#edit: it’s morning now who the fuck let me post this at 1 am my eyes were literally closed when I pressed that post button 😭 i

[ghostly-groves]

Happy Halloween!!

@watermelonfrog2

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Table of Contents to all my CoD Men x Reader Fics

My shit was getting disorganized as fuck, so I collected everything I've typed on here and put it into a single post, just to make it easier to find my stuff if you ever choose to. User Accessibility matters!

Note - All of this is 18+ and Mature, but not all of it is Smut

SFW/Fluff // Masterlist

The masterlist to all of the SFW/Fluff One-Shots for Ghost x Reader.

No Good Men Left To Spare // Masterlist

No pair of people hated each other more than you and Ghost. To him, you were just another loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and immature little princess needing to be humbled. To you, he was just a boring, broody asshole hellbent on not liking you. Things between you two couldn't be any worse. After pushing one too many of his buttons tonight, you and Ghost going off to have a quick smoke turns into something else entirely.

Make Me Beg

Ghost had been curious to see if you could be the one to make him beg for a change, in which to both his pleasure and dismay, you oblige.

Greedy

Ghost x Dom!Reader x Soap

Ghost and Soap find themselves crushing on the same woman on their team, a friendly bout between two comrades to see who you'll choose, only your answer's not one they'd expected to hear.

The Lights Stay Off

No Summary :(

NSFW, 18+, Shameless Smut, No Plot, Porn w/out Plot, Sex in the dark, Explicit, Graphic Language, Teasing, Touch-Starved Touching, Embarrassing, First Time Together, Fingering, Sloppy Kisses, Somewhat Rough Sex, slightly Intimate, Ghost is a bit of a dom, Reader's a bit snarky

Ghost Fan Edit

My thirst for this man is endless. I've been thirsty since I was 11 and first laid eyes on him in 2009. He just gets finer each year. I don't think I'd have my mask kink without him.

Now you get to see how rhythmically challenged I am. These are fun to make; once I get better at them I'll be unstoppable (｀∀´)Ψ

I Won't Forget

Short Drabble ~ Your last night with Johnny...

Can You Spot Me?

You decide to reward Soap after finishing a set on the bench press.

NSFW 18+, Explicit, Shameless Smut, Porn w/out Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Gym Sex, Teasing, Fluff, Flirting, Cunnilingus, Blow-Jobs, Cowgirl, P in V, Might be a little tame, but still Graphic Description, no Y/N usage

Greedy (same story as above one in Ghost's section)

Speedracer

Gaz x Reader x Soap

It's not every day Gaz gets to drive fast cars. It's also not every day he gets to race hot strangers on the road either.

SFW, Some swearing, Fluff, Flirting, Banter, Racing, Three-Way flirting, Random, Innocent, Some Car Lingo, Soap and Gaz sharing a single brain cell, Eventual smut in part two, scarcely proofread

Been In Love

After a breakup, Price figures a walk along the beach might make for a good distraction. What he did not expect to find was a strange woman standing off to the shore, who looked as though she were about ready to drown herself at sea.

pt. 0 | pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Bloodstained Honesty

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Sex Tape ~ Kinktober Prompt

No summary (._. )

NSFW (18+), Shameless Smut, Explicit Detail, Groping, Fingering, Nipple-Play, Oral (Female Receiving), AFAB!Reader Long-Distance, Sex Tape, Scarcely Proofread, Kinktober

Some Days

Drabble ~ Price has a tendency to wake up most mornings before you...

SFW, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Innocent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mornings, Wife Reader, Soft Price, Price is a little mopey, scarcely proofread

Let Me Play You A Song

During a get-together, you and the Captain decide to sneak off for a spell. The intentions were mostly pure. At the start...

Captain Price Fan Edit

My first time making a video like this EVER (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩). It came out more like a trailer than an edit, but I had so much fun making this. I really hope you like it! *totally not nervous* (　◜◡‾)

Captain Price Fan Edit 2

Control Masterlist

Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Angst, Romance, Drama

You’ve been with Shadow Company long enough to know working alongside 141 on their search for the stolen American missiles wouldn’t be an ordinary assignment. And most importantly, you knew Graves. Shadow Company keeps its allies close, and its enemies closer. When you’re given a job, it gets done without conflict. Without loose ends.

Your true mission is clear to you -- keep an eye on 141 and keep them comfortable. Anything it takes to alleviate suspicion of Shadow Company’s involvement with the missing missiles. This wasn’t about saving lives, this was a deadly game of control, and you intend to do so flawlessly.

Phillip Graves Character Trailer

Deepthroating ~ Kinktober Prompt

Drabble - You decide to pay your commander a little visit during one of his later nights in the office...

Welp, that's that. Thanks ( .-.)

...

Here are links to some of my gaming clips if interested (shameless plug)

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

[azukisoul]

Translation of GinHiji manga/dj: "Together." by 礼央。(pixiv) [non-h]

This was requested on Twitter, a heartwarming reincarnation story :") I loved translating it.

CLICK HERE FOR MANGA LINK | Out of courtesy to the artist I'm not reposting their art here, please visit the page, refer to the translation as you read along, and show the artist some love!

I do not mind uncredited text reposts but please DO NOT use my translation to scanlate/edit the manga and post the edits. Keep it text only and link to the source.

Downloadable translation on Google Docs

Translation

[page 1] S: Hijikata-san! H: Oh, glasses. G: Um, have you seen Gin-san?

[page 2] H: Oh, so you're alive. G: Huh!? G: Is it a bad thing that I'm alive? G: Wait. G: Hold on, you're on break? H: Well, yeah. G: Are you here to see me? H: I'm just taking a walk. G: Hmph. I know you're here to see me, though. H: Die, idiot. G: What have you been saying!? Am I not allowed to be alive!?

[page 3] H: Earlier, H: I saw glasses. G: Shinpachi? H: Yeah. H: He was looking for you, y'know. G: …. H: You… H: What are you H: thinking of right now? G: What's this all of a sudden? G: Is it because of Shinpachi? S: Gin-san has been acting weird lately. S: This morning, too, he said he's just heading out to buy Jump, but… H: Nah. H: Well… H: Yeah.

[page 4] H: He was worried about you. H: Hurry up and go home. G: Pfft. That's why you were surprised I'm alive? G: Hijikata-kun, are you an idiot? H: Shut up. G: Hey, wanna listen to me? H: Sure.

[page 5] G: You know, I… H: Mm. G: I found myself thinking that I'm happy. H: Mm. G: And then I ended up thinking about whether or not I'm allowed to be this happy. G: And then, somehow G: I suddenly got scared. H: I see. G: If I'm at home, G: there's Kagura, and Sadaharu, G: and during the day there's Shinpachi, too. G: It's fun there even if we're not doing anything. H: Mm.

[page 6] G: I ended up thinking that I don't want to let them go. H: …. G: It's silly, right? G: I've never even thought about what's ahead of me or what my future looks like. G: Someday, they all will go to walk on their own paths and leave my side. G: This won't go on forever. I know that, and I don't have a problem with that. G: I'll tell them that I'm happy they all found something they want to do. G: But then I thought about what I'm going to do by myself when that time comes. G: I closed my eyes G: and tried to picture that now emptier room. G: And then…

[page 7] G: I can only see you there, Hijikata. G: Hey. G: Will you live together with me?

[page 8] H: Those words made my heart clench. H: Ah. H: I want to protect this person. I want to be by his side. H: That's what I felt.

[page 9] H: Things progressed surprisingly quickly after that. H: Kondou-san cried and was happy for us. H: The kids welcomed us. H: And then, we H: someway somehow, became a family.

[page 10] G: Hey. G: Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death.

[page 11] G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. *taps* H: So that in our next life H: I'll keep you from being alone again.

[page 12] H: Hey, hurry up!

[page 13] H: You're so damn slow, you fucking perm! You want us to leave together, right!? G: Wa-wait a minute, okay! I'm coming now, dammit! H: Your slowness is gonna make me end up being late! G: Sorry, sorry. *step step step* G: Man, Mr. Public Servant Police Officer here sure is strict about time. H: You're the one who's too loose about it! Also, hurry up and find a job already! G: No need. Right now, I'm trying to think about what I truly want in life. It's an important time for me. H: You'll probably go to the Employment Service Center today, anyway. G: I can't say anything to that! H: Hey. H: You…

[page 14] G: Okay, then. Be careful. H: What are you thinking about right now? H: Yeah. You too. H: What do you see? G: I'm gonna make dinner and wait for you, darling. H: That's freaking gross. H: Are you not afraid anymore? H: Right now, H: are you happy? *clack*

[page 15] H: Me? H: Yeah. I'm here with you, H: so I'm happy.

[page 16] The following is an additional story for "Together." that I drew for REOLOG (my doujin collection). *Depiction of death *Post-reincarnation

[page 17] G: I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. G: I don't know who it belongs to.

[page 18] G: G to T… G: G is for Gintoki, I guess? G: Then who is T… G: I have absolutely no idea.

[page 19] G: My mom said G: I seem to have picked it up out of nowhere when I was a baby. G: Even when they took it away out of fear of me accidentally swallowing it G: or threw it away because it seemed strange, G: before they knew it, it always returned to the palm of my hands. G: My mom then had the idea of putting that ring around my neck.

[page 20] S: Heey, Gintoki! S: The entrance ceremony is about to start. G: Yeah, I'm coming. G: I have no idea if this ring even has any meaning at all. G: But, G: when I look at it, my heart becomes calmer, yet also excited, yet also painful. It's strange. G: I'm sure there is a meaning. G: I believe that. H: Haha. K: And then, Otae-san was like…

[page 21] G: Hiji… G: …kata.

[page 22] *glare* *ba-dump* G: Huh? H: Who the hell are you? G: Oh, sorry. Did I say something? H: Huh? Say something? Nah. You called my name, right? G: N… Name?

[page 23] O: Hijikata-san! What are you doing? H: Tch. You damn perm. G: His name is G: Hijikata, huh… G: Hijikata? I said his name? I did? G: Why? G: …. G: Hijikata.

[page 24] G: Hijikata. G: Who is that? G: Hijikata. G: Is that someone I know? G: Hijikata. G: Who the hell are you? G: Hey, Hijikata. G: Will you live together with me? G: Who?

[page 25] G: Hey, Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death. G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. H: So that in our next life…

[page 26] H: So that in our next life… H: I'll keep you from being alone again. *rustle*

[page 27] G: Hijikata… G: …Toshirou. G: Yeah. I remember now. G: I remember now. G: G to T. G: This is G: the ring I gave him.

[page 28] G: In our next life… G: We met. G: We met, G: Hijikata.

[page 29] -

[page 30] H: I'll go too, soon. H: Wait for me, okay?

[page 31] H: Yorozuya.

[page 32] -

[page 33] H: I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. H: Who does it belong to? H: What shards are these? H: I have no idea.

[page 34] G: And then, Zura and Sakomoto's like… G: Then, Takasugi fell (lol) G: Hilarious, right? H: …. H: Hey, Sakata. G: What is it, Hijikata-kun? H: Which class are you in? G: H (Ecchi) ♥ H: Don't say it in such a weird way. H: And this class is? G: A Class. H: Then, let me ask you this. H: Why are you always eating lunch here everyday!? We're not even on the same floor. H: Furthermore, here in front of me!

[page 35] G: That's clearly G: because I want to be next to you, right? G: Just kidding. *GROSSED OUT* *fidgets* G: Hey, come on! Don't look so clearly grossed out like that! H: Stop those jokes already. G: Hahah. It was just a joke. Don't mind it so much. H: Geez. I really don't date guys, okay? H: ….

[page 36] H: ? G: I know, I know. G: Hahah. H: Sakata Gintoki… H: The first time I met him was on the day of our high school entrance ceremony. G: Hiji… G: …kata.

[page 37] H: Who the hell are you? G: Oh, sorry. H: A guy with lazy eyes that resemble those of a dead fish. H: Rarely-seen silver hair. G: Did I say something? H: It should've been the first time we met, but it didn't feel like the first. H: You damn perm. H: After that day, H: For some reason, Sakata took a liking to me and popped up in my classroom whenever he had the time. O: Oh, it's Danna. K: Ooh, Gintoki, you're here. G: Don't interrupt us. Get the hell away, Gorilla. H: Kondou-san is not a gorilla!

[page 38] H: The guy is suspicious, H: but I don't think of it as strange and end up hating it. H: In fact, that smile H: perhaps even feels familiar to me. *ba-dump* G: Hm? What's wrong? H: Oh, nothing. H: I never knew you wear that thing.

[page 39] G: Oh, this? G: You're curious about it? H: Nah, not really. G: Don't worry. I don't have a girlfriend or anything. H: L-Like anyone even asked about that! G: Come on, just hear me out. G: This is something I've been keeping safe for as long as I can remember. G: I've been holding on to it without even knowing who it belongs to or why I can't let go of it. H: Without knowing… H: All this time? G: Yeah. G: All this time. H: For as long as you can remember? G: Yeah. G: As long as I can remember.

[page 40] H: I was shocked. H: His story is exactly the same as mine. H: The ring in that bottle… H: And his ring… *thump* H: What is happening? H: There's a strange pain in my chest. *ruffles*

[page 41] G: Take your time. H: …. G: I'll wait.

[page 42] H: T to G. H: Does it mean from Toshirou to Gintoki…?

[page 43] H: That can't be the case. H: The first time I met him was on the day of our entrance ceremony. H: I don't think I've met him before that. H: But… is that true? G: I'll wait. H: Could it be that I've just forgotten? H: I want to remember. H: I feel like I have to remember. H: If there really is something to remember. H: Or do I just want that to be the case? H: I don't know. H: On his ring… H: Are there somebody's initials carved on it?

[page 44] H: Sakata. H: Sakata Gintoki. H: Who are you? H: Sakata Gintoki. H: Really? H: Sakata Gintoki. H: I called his name like that?

[page 45] G: Hey, Hijikata-kun. G: If I die first, G: what'll you do? H: Let's see. H: I'll put my ring on you H: and then I'll put your ring in a small bottle along with some small shards H: and I'll carry it with me until my death. G: So we can meet again up there? H: Nah. H: Not up there. *taps* H: So that in our next life…

[page 46] H: So that in our next life… H: I'll keep you from being alone again. *shock...*

[page 47] H: Right. H: I know him. H: I know Sakata Gintoki. H: Something as important as this… H: How could I forget… *grip* G: Hijikata-kun. H: Tch. H: Damn it…! *runs*

[page 48] H: Haa… H: Haa… *ring* *ring* H: Hey, where the hell are you? H: What? H: Heading back home from work? Where!? H: Whatever, just tell me! H: Huh? H: Near the park? Then right now I'm… G: Hijikata!

[page 49] G: Hey, what's up? H: Sakata… H: Gintoki. G: Hijikata? What's wrong? H: Sorry. G: Hm? H: I said I'll keep you from being alone, but… H: Sorry. G: … H: You've been in front of me all this time, but H: I didn't realize. I'm sorry. H: I've never even called your name properly. H: I'm really sorry,

[page 50] H: Yorozuya.

[page 51] G: Hijikata, you… H: Hey, Yorozuya… H: Can you put it on me, too? G: …

[page 52] H: Hah. H: It fits me perfectly. I've been holding on to it as long as I can remember. I don't know who it belongs to. But…

[page 53] G: We finally meet, Hijikata. G: Don't cry. H: I'm just sorry for making you wait. H: Also, I'm not crying. G: You're totally crying. H: I'm not crying.

[page 54] Those faraway memories, bond, love. The miracle of being able to meet again.

[page 55] I won't let you be alone. I'll be by your side. To make you happy. To become happy. From now on, too, always.

[page 56] Together.

[jamiesfootball]

⭐️ here's a director's cut question for OGYGGI(YHNBGL) (side note: i love this acronym. it may not be convenient to type but i hear it in my mind as the sound of a giant sea monster rising from the deep):

do you have a process for figuring out how to hint at what's going on with jamie and the other characters before roy knows about it? are there any alternate-pov versions of scenes that live in your brain, like with Low Battery?

also, anything you want to talk about with the 5+1 falling asleep fic! i love all the snippets you've posted from it very much

I too love the acronym. Look at it. It's so silly. I love the thought of it as a giant see monster rinsing from the deep - honestly I've looking at it and my dyslexic brain keeps filling in 'Oingo-Boingo.'

do you have a process for figuring out how to hint at what's going on with jamie and the other characters before roy knows about it?

Part of the fun (for me) with keeping everything in Roy's pov is the challenge of balancing how to get across what is happening elsewhere. Which is why I have The Spreadsheet:

(I think I have appropriately blurred this out enough that there shouldn't be spoilers)

(Also this has reminded me I have more notes that need added to it)

So on the left I have my List of Things. On this list are:

-Characters: anyone I regularly check in with and/or who has something going on in the background (Roy, Jamie, Colin, Keeley, etc)

-Character groups: any combination of characters who have plot beats going on as part of their group dynamic (Roy & Jamie, the Diamond Dogs, Roy & his family, etc)

-Specific plots: any recurring plot thread that I need to keep an eye on (Jamie's impending Brazil photoshoot, the Roy & Jamie Book Club)

-Recurring details: anything recurring that changes but doesn't necessarily impact the action (for instance, the renovation and maintenance being done to the Richmond locker room that Roy witnesses over the course of the month)

-The Thesis Statement: this is the BIG ONE for me and it's right at the top. With so many interwoven stories and Roy's journey of big mental health stuff being the big driving focus, I needed some way of making sure I was always moving the story forward for him, even in the chapters where he doesn't have a therapy session. So each chapter has an I-Statement for Roy that is a clear idea of where he's at that point in the chapter. Here's the one for chapter one:

"I am angry and miserable and lonely. I don't know how to show people I care. I don't want to fuck this up. I will change something"

They're not elegant - they're raw and simple and to the point. It helps me keep on task and make sure the chapter is hitting the right notes.

EDIT: realized I forgot to explain- the column headers are chapters.

are there any alternate-pov versions of scenes that live in your brain, like with Low Battery?

YES THERE ARE. The big big BIG one being Jamie's eventual trip to Manchester to visit his dad in rehab - a scene that I have honestly been considering writing just so I have a version of it in my head to reference when he's telling Roy about it. I already have some of it figured out and ooof. OOF I say.

Another one that I've been considering is Jamie and Ted's eventual Talk about what's been going on - both with Jamie and his dad, and with Jamie having finally finished reading The Beautiful & Damned. That one is tricky, because Roy isn't involved or around for that conversation at all, but he does speak to Ted immediately after.

A much smaller one that's recently crept into the running is Jamie's reaction to finally hearing from his dad for the first time, which is.....it's going to be very soon.

also, anything you want to talk about with the 5+1 falling asleep fic!

The big one there is that I SWEAR IT'S STILL IN PROGRESS. For a while there, I had time reconnecting with it, and I realized (this morning actually) that part of my issue was that I was struggling to reach that raw place that wrote most of it. Now that I've let it set a bit, I've recharged, and it's back on the writing block come new years!

From this ask game but specific questions only please!

[thatbanditqueen]

Against the Wall Chapter 3

Knock Me Down

A brief note: I need to go back and edit the previous chapters' posts, because this fic has taken on a life of its own. I envisioned it as this epic three-chapter story I would write over the winter holidays as a sort of sweet Christmas anti rom-com about Austin and an OC in the late 1980s/early 1990s. Then it took me twenty days to finish the third chapter. And it's pretty clear to me that I have more to write. At least one more chapter and an epilogue..... so whatever.....

I don't usually take requests, but I do appreciate input and feedback and suggestions, although I cannot guarantee how the writing process will work itself out, I will say that your feedback has kept me going and I included a few little scenes especially for @slowsweetlove although I probably didn't do him justice and completely defied his persona, I changed Keanu to suit my narrative needs and I hope it isn't too horrible to bear....

Catch up here:

Chapter 1: Bruised Bananas

Chapter 2: Red-Headed Woman

Summary: Picking up where we left off in chapter two, Hannah and Austin cope with the fallout from her arrest, and try to make the best of it, but fate gets in the way and they break up again, Austin begins to give in to some bad habits of his own while Hannah tries to forge a clean start but has some hard decisions to make on the way....

Rating: Explicit

Warning: smut, so 18+ only please, vaginal, oral, threesomes, sex with prostitutes, toxic, dark consensual sex, drugs, alcohol, pregnancy

Words: 15.4 K

IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG AND/OR LEAVE ME SOME FEEDBACK LETTING ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT.

so many typos sorry

Hannah's Rehab Playlist (basically grungey alt from late 80s/early 90s)

Hannah & Austin's Romantic Mixtape (get it on music from 70s - early 90s they would've liked... i don't know, it was part of my creative process...)

May 12, 1991, 7 am

Culver City Police Department

The wall greeted Hannah’s head with a thud, and she knocked her self back into it harder, wanting to absorb  the cold concrete, it was awelcome relief to  her warm, throbbing, anxious neck as she blocked the fluorescent glow of the overhead light with her hand. She sighed, head pounding, longing to sleep, but the adrenaline coursing through her blood made sleep impossible. That, and the general grey, dour, imprisoned atmosphere of the Los Angeles County holding cell where she found her self confined. That also made sleep impossible. So instead, she lay there, mentally flaying herself for being so stupid, so unlucky, and so utterly fucked. The severe, angry figure of Austin’s publicist Min greeted her at the discharge desk. Tall, slender, Black, with high cheekbones and an elegant, refined style, Hannah shuddered at Min’s terse smile as it led her to a white Mercedes.

“Thanks… for getting me … you didn’t have to….” Hannah looked down.

“I got a call from Austin’s agent, Brett, at 4:30 this morning informing me one of Hollywood’s hottest, highest paid actors is trying to leave an active, overseas production, one already running behind, and costing the studio hundreds of thousands of dollars a day, to rescue his girlfriend, so, um, yeah, I did have to….its going to take all my effort and connections to keep the damage to a minimum…”

Sighing as she looked out the window, Hannah  realized they were going over the 101 to the valley, a direction that was decidedly not towards her apartment. About an hour later, after a shower and some coffee, Hannah sat on a bar stool in Min’s pristine kitchen trying her best to respond to a series of questions and rules.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. My job is to minimize the amount of people who know you were arrested last night. This is best for both your career and Austin’s.” Hannah nodded to Min, but reminded herself that Min gets 10% of Austin’s salary, and his career was her priority, not hers.

“Alright,  Hannah. Have you ever been arrested before?” Hannah shook her head. “Good, that’s good… OK… now, be honest, has Austin been doing cocaine and heroin as much as you or Downey, or any of the other reprobates you have been running around with?”

“Um… Austin likes to party but uh …  he doesn’t need to, you know? I… uh… he stopped partying when he’s working on a project … he, uh, never tried H. He doesn’t even know I’ve done it…” 

“Well, he knows now. Right, ok, and how long have you had a drug problem ?”

Hannah looked down, her breathe caught in her throat before she murmured. “I don’t know if I would say I have a problem… 

“Hannah,  you were arrested for DRUGS, illegal ones, bad ones, coke and heroin ——”

“I’ve only done H a handful of times —”

“I wish you could hear yourself. Most people never utter those words…. If this gets connected to Austin, it can make him an insurance liability. Which is BAD. And, honestly the publicity is a career killer for you too,  no director wants to hire a drug addict. So we need to contain this. And you need to sound contrite, apologetic, like you understand that all drugs are bad. Got it?” Hannah nodded again, accepting her role in this conversation: silent acquiescence. 

“Right, last question - you’re on a film right now?”

“Yeah, uh … we finished the Point Break final mix Friday, that’s why I was out last night… the delivery party is next Friday …” 

“You are one lucky girl.” Min put her coffee down, pointing at Hannah as she spoke. “You may actually get out of this with your reputation intact… if you do EXACTLY as I say. Rule one, no more dressing up like you’re auditioning for a Guns n’ Roses video. Think sleek, think simple, think modest. I want you to look like a PTA mom who is also an accountant. Got it?” 

Hannah mumbled how she hated Guns n’ Roses, but her chin bobbed up and down with assent. 

“Good. Ok, rule two, and hopefully this is obvious, but no more partying. I don’t care if you’re at the wrap party and Patrick Swayze offers you shots off his tight, perfect ass. You are now the paragon of sober, chaste behavior. I’m setting you up with an attorney, good one, Sheila, she specializes in these… sorts of…things… You need to prepare yourself. Sheila is going to tell you to start going to twelve step meetings, it will look good. She’ll ask for rehab in exchange for no jail time and a dismissal of charges.”

Hannah’s head fell into her hands, and her voice was shaking. “But I —“

“Possession of heroin, cocaine, unregistered guns, those are felonies here in California. Trust me babe, you don’t wanna fuck with prison. Rehab is the sensible choice, the choice that keeps this off your record, and then boom, clean slate…. ok, last rule: no more carbs.”

“Wait, why shouldn’t I eat carbs?”

“People always gain weight when they go to rehab, darling, and it would just make my life so much easier if you started saying no to carbs. And maybe yes to cigarettes? Now there’s a drug addiction I can get behind, keeps the appetite down, looks cool, might even help you get through all this.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Min, you make me feel horrible about myself.”

“Good, channel that when you think you want a doughnut. And smoke instead.”

Chewing sweet, glazed doughnuts in the passenger seat of her friend Robin’s car, Hannah let the gooey carbohydrates do their work comforting her as she prepared to call Austin. It was nighttime in London, and the cool, self control in his voice threw her off. Hannah could almost feel his abs tensing as he tightened up inward and put up a calm front. His timbre was steady, confident, unflappable. There was a slight British twinge to his voice, she could hear the Jagger in it, and he sounded like a bizarre version of himself. Hannah tried to lighten the mood, teasing him about his accent, but it was hard to combat every variation of his vague “the main thing is that you are ok, right Banana?”  It betrayed how worried he was. Guilty for making him worry, guilty for ruining their travel plans, Hannah explained how she wouldn’t be flying over in two weeks and didn’t know when they would see each other.

“I totally get it if you want to take a break…” Hannah offered.

“What, from us?” 

“Yeah,” she added, wiping her eyes, letting the word salad tossing around her mind tumble out. “I just… I … I’m a mess and its already been so long since we had sex and being with me is putting your career at risk, and I would never fuck with your money…. or your art … you are so talented …  and I fucked up and I just… I would understand —if you need a break from the drama… ”

Austin paused, her comment about his talent was unnerving, raw praise was not something Hannah did, it usually was hidden in back handed mockery or laced with sarcasm. Watching Hannah struggle to admit he was good at anything made it so charming when she did, that, in those moments, he actually felt like he deserved her approval. She was perpetually the same to him since they met: brutally honesty and never obsequious, no matter his success. Or hers, for that matter. Hannah’s authenticity drove his need to have her in his life. That, and the way her feisty stubbornness provoked a subconscious desire to conquer her, she was a challenge he would surmount, and he secretly longed to marry her, fill her with children and make her his forever. But Austin never really entertained those inclinations. He couldn’t explain how he felt that, and then was also turned on by how ambitious and smart and talented Hannah was. He loved mentally sparring with her, exchanging witty barbs with each other was like foreplay. Then also, he loved catching her at work at the end of the day, still editing a scene. Her eyes lit up, biting her lip in concentration as if she was solving a complex puzzle. Then there was the way she never expected or demanded anything, never took it for granted that he would pay for dinner, concert tickets or trips, had refused to move in with him. Her plucky, unassuming self-reliance made him want to take care of her even more and give her the life she’d never had. There were moments when Hannah let down her walls and became vulnerable, moments when she let herself be raw,  ask for help, or reach out to be touched, Austin lived for those moments. His favorite view of her was from between her legs, when she was completely naked, and his mouth was in her cunt, licking her, pleasing her, devouring her in ways she had always been wya too self conscious to let another man touch her. Austin lived to watch her face twist in tortured ecstasy as she writhed beneath him, moans begging him to continue, while her eyes betrayed her fear of the unbridled feelings she couldn’t control. It was sticking his tongue into a live current of lightening in the middle of velvet hurricane.

Austin had been in London  for a month and he ached for Hannah’s companionship. Work was a useful distraction, his days started on the set at 6 am, and then he was often not back to the hotel, often, before 8 or 9 pm, sometimes grabbing a bite with the other cast members or crew. He told himself he was glad not to have Hannah there, it wouldn’t have been fair to leave her all day six days a week, and then giving her the worst version of himself in the evenings, exhausted and just wanting to recover and recharge. Acting demanded so much intense work, that being alone on an overseas shoot made it easier to stay in character. Which was the part of his job he loved, the magic of subsuming himself in a character that wasn’t plain, boring Austin from Anaheim. 

Sundays were his only day off, and today, on this Sunday, listening to Hannah blabber on insecure and nice and completely vulnerable sparked something primal in Austin. He wanted to throw his phone down and run to Heathrow and fly too her immediately. He banged his hand on the table, frustrated at how stuck he was, and made a mental note to tell Min that money was no object for a lawyer or rehab or whatever else was needed to  to take care of Hannah right now. Ashley, he needed to call his sister Ashley and ask if she could drive to LA and help out as well. Making this mental list, Austin roused himself from his reverie and returned to their conversation.

“HAN - NAH,” Austin’s voice growled in a low, husky rumble through the phone receiver slowly and surely. “Stop…. sshhhhh…  baby…. you’re tired, you’re scared, it’s ok baby…. I get it… but….I. Love. You. Do you hear me Red? … I FUCKING BLOODY WELL LOVE YOU. I am not some sex crazed teen age boy. I’m a grown man. I’m not going to break up with you the day you get arrested for heroin because I need to fuck something… I would be there with you if I could, baby. It kills me that I can’t be there to take care of you -”

“But you shouldn’t have to take care of me, you should be with someone easier —”

“Banana! You were extremely easy …. that’s partly why I love you - you didn’t play hard to get, you opened up those legs the second I met you and then fucked me in an alley before you even knew my name —”

“That’s not what I meant. Plus, I knew your first name…  and I could tell you were an ok guy, I saw your soul in the bathroom that night … But that’s not the kind of easy I’m talking about… I meant uncomplicated… simple… easy to live with…”

“Nothing worth having is easy, Red … look… you’re the only one I want… I don’t want anyone else. I love you. I love your messy, big beautiful…. brain… those two heaving sides of your cerebellum, working up new insults to hurl at me… I honestly don’t know how you do it… I love your big, beautiful tits…” his voice was low, husky now, slowly as he relished the mental image of Hannah the last time they’d been naked in bed together. “I love your big, beautiful Banana butt, and I really really love your sweet, little, tight —”

“Austin stop! I’m at Robin’s house, she is sitting ten feet from me —”

 “MOUTH… what did you think I was gonna say? S’ides, she can’t hear what I am saying—“

“But she can see my reaction, even though she is on the couch, politely pretending to read a magazine and being very very cool about everything…”

“Wait, are you blushing? OH baby, you’re so fucKing cute when you blush…. Especially when your lips are around my—

“Austin!”

“Ok, ok. Look. I can’t help it, your voice is so sexy its distracting me… Look, I’m fine. I’m so busy with work, its probably good you aren’t flying to London, because we’re doing twelve hour shoots.  I’ll just come home after we wrap, I need a break, you do too, so its good we aren’t gonna travel around Europe all summer. I need to recover….  I’ll be home in August, and until then, it’ll be just like any other long distance thing, and we’ll be fine. We’re already pretty banging at phone sex…  and you can use all that free time in rehab to write me dirty love letters —”

A loud guffaw escaped from Hannah’s rough, cried-out throat.

“Oh baby, I love it when you snort. Loudly.”

“Shut up, Austin, you really are a dirty, little pervert. I swear, I can hear your hard on…. I can just tell from your goofy voice… how can snorting turn you on?”

“The world works in mystical ways, never question a hard on… just say thank you….”

Hannah chuckled, “I can’t decide if I want to punch you or make out…?’

“I wish we could do both, preferably, in that order… oh Banana, everything is gonna be ok. Maybe this is a good thing.”

Hannah paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sighing, Austin looked up and let his eyes wander, unfocus, following the rectangles of light bouncing off the crystal chandelier in his hotel room. He wondered if Hannah would be in this trouble if he had just been man enough to confront her before he left LA last month. If he really wallowed in self pity, his guilt spiraled back to their first break up, when he cheated on her. Because after getting back together, the biggest change he observed was Hannah’s new daily coke habit. It was a drug she used to hate it, and now she did it first thing in the morning. One evening before he left for England, SJP had cornered Austin at the Viper Room and confided that she was pretty sure Bob and Hannah were doing heroin with Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder and River Phoenix in the club’s back office. That Hannah had started experimenting with smack in Venice with Bob, behind her back. Austin had told her she was being paranoid, they were doing blow, like everyone else. Sure, Hannah enjoyed blow, maybe too much, but then again, coke was everywhere, e was everywhere, and everyone was doing it, including them. But heroin? No. Hannah was no junkie, she had no track marks, wasn’t passing out, or missing work, or stealing things. She was just going through a party girl phase, needed to let off steam now that she was getting better jobs, and needed to get it out of her system and find her rhythm.  Now, after the arrest, he wasn’t so sure, and the prospect of Hannah being locked away in a rehab, getting rest, forced off drugs, was actually a salve comforting the overwhelming sense of powerlessness and fear running through him because he was so far away. 

“Banana... I’m just saying maybe some rest and relaxation will be good….”

May 17, 1991

Hannah tried to be good while her lawyer, Sheila, sorted out her case. She wore boring clothes. She clenched her fist and powered through the week totally clean until the Point Break wrap party, when she looked down to find herself sipping on a beer and couldn’t even remember picking it up. Fuck it, its just one, you deserve it with the week you’ve had. Three beers and two shots of tequila later Hannah was smoking a joint out back with a mix of actors and crew, including Keanu Reeves, Lori Petty and others. The night went on, the atmosphere was giddy with the thrill of completing such a large-scale action movie and Hannah chased her warm buzz into a drunken fuck-it cyclone. Staggering toward her car, wondering if she should drive, she was rescued from indecision by a bounding Keanu running into her, long hair flapping behind him as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a group heading to Sunset in a limo. Hannah couldn’t see straight leaving the The Standard at 2:30 a.m., and found herself sharing a cab alone with Keanu, and his hands, one of which found its way to her knee, a glint sparkling in his eyes, his brows arched in a question.  In that moment, the sheer flattery of his proposition sent a of flock butterflies fluttering through Hannah’s belly, and she looked up at Keanu’s rugged jawline through blurry eyes, focusing her eyes on the rough stubble calling out for her fingers, imagining how sweet it would be to look up at him as he fucked her softly, slowly, tenderly. No one would know. She felt like she was dancing above a ravine, daring herself to tumble in to her own demise. Hearing his velvety, warm voice, Hannah almost propelled herself forward.

“You know, Rosenfeld, you’re the cutest editor I’ve ever met…”

Hannah let out a sardonic, “ha,” taking a deep breath. It took all her will power to remove Keanu’s hand from her knee. 

“Not sure if that’s a compliment… most editors are gross, nerdy, old white dudes… kinda low bar there, K-Rock… but, thanks anyway… it’s just … I have a boyfriend…”

“Still with Austin?”

She nodded, leaving with a hug before wobbling out of the cab and into Robin’s house. The base of her head was still throbbing Monday morning when Austin’s sister, Ashley, showed up to take her to lunch and help her get ready for rehab.

August 17, 1991

Golden Key Treatment Center, Half Moon Bay, CA

Hannah stood in front of the mirror, tee shirt lifted up, moving her hand over her belly and hips, stopping at the top of her grey sweatpants and snapping the elastic in frustration.

“Ughhh, I think I’ve gained 10 pounds since I got here… what the fuck can I possibly wear tomorrow?” She whined to her roommate Sonal, who looked up as she flipped through Cosmo. 

“Shut up Hannah, you look healthy, I would kill for your tits…..”

Hannah shifted from side to side. “And I would kill to be 18 again, like you, with your stupid metabolism and great genes … you could be a model… I would hate you if you weren’t the only other sane person here… but you need to tell your mom tomorrow, no more bringing tubs of Indian food for us to eat at family visitation …  Ok, from now on, every time I want to eat, I’m gonna smoke… coming? ” Hannah slipped on her birks and grabbed her pack of Parliament methols. Sonal followed her downstairs and outside to the ring of metal chairs and benches in the designated smoking area. Golden Key was like a jail mixed with a posh psych ward housed in a Mediterranean style villa overlooking the Pacific Ocean above levels of manicured gardens punctuated with fountains, a pool and tennis courts. The most comfortable smoking section was a deck off to one side of the lobby at the entrance, hidden from the drive by a line of tall evergreen shrubbery, but convenient for those stressful moments Sundays during family time visiting with guests in the main building. 

Today, Hannah and Sonal were alone on their walk through the grounds. Saturdays were the only day patients could get a day pass to leave campus with a buddy or approved guest. It was also one of two days they got to sleep in, and Hannah and Sonal had conspired to stay in, eat cookie dough and veg out watching television, for once not having to compromise with others on what they watched in the common room. Hannah had regressed back to habits from her freshman year at UCLA, spending the day in pajamas without make up, smoking menthols and watching TV.

Sonal exhaled her cigarette, “How long did you say it’s been since you saw your boyfriend?”

“Early April… it’s been over four months ago… he’s probably boarding his flight right now … today’s actually his birthday, but he couldn’t get over until tomorrow…  I’ve been trying to think where we can sneak off during visitation tomorrow … though he probably won’t want to fuck me when he sees how fat and boring I’ve become here… ”

“Hannah… if its been four months, he won’t care what you look like. Why was he in London again?” 

Hannah bit her lip, “Yeah,  he, uh … his company transferred him, but he’s—”

Standing, Sonal looked through the shrubs out toward the circular driveway. “Shhh, Hannah, a black convertible just pulled up front, it looks expensive… ”

Hannah bounced up, moving to peep around the shrubs. “That’s a Lamborghini….” she murmured, watching a tall white guy with shoulder length blonde hair covering his face grab a bouquet of roses and step out of the car. A shot of electricity went through her stomach as she realized who it was, and, stabbing out her cigarette butt she became a woman possessed. She scurried around the deck’s stone balustrade columns and ran down the steps towards the car, the flop of her sandals falling off didn’t phase her. The force of her body knocked Austin back onto the hood of the car as she jumped onto him, legs around his waist, a high pitched squeal escaping her mouth before it smashed against his lips.

“Hey Red…happy to see me?” Austin looked up, through a sly grin in-between kisses, blue eyes bright and twinkling at Hannah. She slide off him, panting and giggling, then realizing she was barefoot in sweatpants, she punched Austin in the shoulder. 

“Asshole - I did not want to look like like this the first time you saw me…..I fucking hate you!”

Austin smirked as he rubbed his mouth, raw from Hannah’s assault on it, his hands were now on her waist as he pulled her back into his embrace. “Shut up, you look fucking hot… I might have to ravish you right here on my new car…”

“NOPE…. I know how much you like public sex… ugh, actors… consistently looking for an audience… well, the joke’s on you, babe… now you have to wait for me to shower and get some clothes on.”

“What’s the point when I’m going spend the rest of the night tryin to get them off…?”

“Hmm, we’ll see if you have a chance with that British accent… where’s the man I said goodbye to in March? Did you leave my boyfriend back in London?”

“Yeah… I … uh…” Austin ran his hand through his long hair, pushing it behind his ear, embarrassed. “I’m working on that… I’ve been speaking like Mick Jagger for almost six months… longer if you count the dialogue coach I started with last fall… at this point…  I don’t even know what my real voice sounds like, I mean, this feels like my real voice… certain things trigger it and other times as well it’s, I don’t know… I can’t help it, its like a part of the fiber of my being… fuck, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Hannah caressed the side of his mouth, noticing how tired he looked. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid… that’s the nature of being an empty vessel… a beautiful, tall, sexy empty vessel… sometimes it takes a while for the contents to drain out, right?” She pulled Austin’s neck forward, and stood on her toes to kiss his check. “I love you Austin Jagler…” 

A kiss to his other cheek, and Austin’s face melted into a lusty haze, beaming down on her with a broad, affectionate grin. Her witty barbs and insults were an aphrodisiac. Hannah could have asked him to drive his brand new Lamborghini into the ocean and he would have. Just watching Hannah’s boobs bounce up and down (had they gotten bigger since April?) as she ran toward him without a bra on, her hair bobbing out of a messy bun, shoes falling off as she pummeled him on to his new car, tits first, smooshing him down under a mountain of soft, billowy breasts, and he was transfixed. Knocked down, figuratively and literally, He could have stayed there, on the Lamborghini’s hood, fully clothed, watching her hover above him, the outline of her nipples visible through her shirt, and he would have been content for hours. Although now that she had steadied herself, and was once again demeaning, insecure, doting and violent all at once as she slapped him, called him an empty vessel and told him she loved him, he was even more bewitched then ever. 

“Austin?” Hannah snapped her fingers in his face. “You must really be jet lagged… I said, you have to fill out some forms inside while I change, I’ll be real quick.”

An hour later, Austin’s left hand was pushing up the hem of Hannah’s knee length yellow and green flowered dress, finding its way to rest on her knee, slowing moving up higher, his left hand steering them out of the Golden Key’s gates and down the hill towards the coast. She leaned on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her hair, lifting his arm to pull her in closer.

“You are such a bastard, showing up a day early … you’re lucky you’re so pretty… and that it’s your birthday…. and that I missed you …” she said, her voice becoming breathy, low, and Austin gasped at the way her hand moved to caress the top of his inner thigh. She chuckled as his cock twitched and he reached down to remove her hand.

“Mmmhmmm… you’re gonna make me crash, baby… I only just landed in San Francisco this morning, and this is a new car, and I’m not used to this windy road … so, where are we going?”

“You bought this car this morning on your way here?”

“No, Alex picked it up for me and drove it to meet me at the plane.”

“Fucking movie stars … don’t even buy your own cars… making your assistant drive nine hours from LA with a shiny new toy instead of just renting a car like a normal person… pathetic… “ Austin grinned, eyes remaining forward on the road, it made him feel powerful to hear Hannah recount his extravagance through mockery, the way her eyes widened told him she was secretly impressed.

“Ugh, Half Moon Bay is really a one horse town… there’s a fisherman’s wharf touristy area, some beaches, a square with a few shops… I just have to be back by 9, and, um, we’re not supposed to leave the town…”

“Right, but how would they know?”

“I would know… I um… I’m really trying to do this … I want to graduate sooner rather than later…”

“Graduate?”

“Yeah, remember? I wrote about it, in one of my very long, dumb rambly letters … it’s stupid, but the program length is variable here, three months to a year, based on how long it takes to complete their ‘three phases’ and ‘graduate’ from the program…”

“What phase are you on?”

“Two… I have a sponsor in NA and I’m plugging along … rah rah rah…”

“That’s good, though, I mean… right?”

Hannah squinted, looking ahead of her, and then looked down, fidgeting with her dress. “Yes.” Her voice was low, sincere. “Yes. I’m glad I’m here. I wasn’t at first….. but now I’ve been here for two months and… I … I have been able to admit that ….. the drugs were a problem for me… and… I don’t want to do them anymore … I want to be free… is that the lamest thing ever? Don’t worry, they haven’t totally brainwashed me … I’m still a devout atheist… I still like sex and rock ’n roll …but, I um… look…. we should talk tonight I guess, because if you need a girlfriend who you can get fucked up with and share that party lifestyle with I totally get it…but being clean, for me, means no booze… no recreational e and dancing at parties in the desert…”

Austin’s face grew pensive, and he drew Hannah in tighter, planting a long kiss again on the top of her head. “Shut up with that… First, we did that once because YOU wanted to… raves are not exactly my scene… and Second, You’re my girl, ok? I’m gonna take care of you. I want to….And, uh…I’m like, really proud of you, Hannah Banana, I really am… so let’s figure out more pressing issues… like,it’s 1:30, I gotta get you back by 9… that doesn’t give us much time, we should probably go straight to my hotel…”

Hannah guffawed, “Not even gonna buy me dinner first, huh?” 

Austin’s heart swelled and he felt himself harden more, Hannah’s teasing lilt made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he rubbed her knee. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to feed you,” he tried to play it straight, looking ahead, but unable to stop his deep chuckles as Hannah playfully slapped him. “I meant to talk…” he laughed,  “like we should just go to my hotel, so we have somewhere private to talk… we have a lot to talk about… we don’t even have to have sex today… or even go to the super deluxe suite I got with a big, comfy king bed … we can just hang out on the hotel grounds, the lobby is nice, there’s like a path along some cliffs and an outdoor fire place, there’s a golf course somewhere…”

Hannah hummed, her hand sliding around his waist, “Ok, yeah, you know how much I love golf …” 

“What the fuck, Austin…  the Ritz? I didn’t even know this was here, leave it to you to find the most overpriced poncy, rich asshole place to stay.” Hannah exclaimed, as Austin led her through the lobby of the Half Moon Bay Ritz Carlton. He shrugged, walking towards the outdoor bar where a fire was indeed roaring from a large, stone pit, and you could see the Pacific Ocean churning beyond green cliffs. Hannah shook her head, and pulled him to her, standing on her toes to whisper into his ear, “I need to use the bathroom, can we go to room?” Her teeth grazing the bottom of Austin’s earlobe, and she grinned as his eye brows lifted and he nodded his chin, tapping his hand over his thigh during the elevator ride up. 

Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Hannah’s confidence faded a bit, she pulled on the waddle that had expanded under her chin, and pushed it back to up, looking at herself with both hands pulling back the excess skin around her face. Stupid fucking cow, you were almost a size 8… now you can barely get into your size 12 clothes… But Hannah’s confidence surged back when she came out to find the eager, almost innocent look of awe in Austin’s eyes glued to her from the couch where he was untying his oxfords,  camel hair jacket already off. He jumped up and sauntered over, pushing his long hair to the side. She shivered at his hands closing in around her waist, savoring how the back of his index finger lightly feathered up and down her sides. His blue eyes were dark and half lidded with lust above a dopey smile. 

“Hey…” his voice was husky, slow, and Hannah’s pulse quickened, quivering at his touch, the fire building in her core swelled and her chin jolted down, embarrassed of how intense her desire felt. Her breath was uneven, nervous, and Austin’s right hand moved to her soothe her cheek, cupping it and turning it towards him.

“Hey… is this ok? You ok?” Hannah nodded, her fingers moving to play and tug at the belt loops on his hips, pushing into him. Now both of Austin’s hands were cupping her face, thumbs gliding over the tops of her cheeks, his lips soft on hers, then pausing to swallow anxiously. Her eyes widened, as she nuzzled the tip of his nose, and his head bent down, the warmth from his forehead meeting hers, eyes squeezed shut, shuddering as he mumbled, “Oh god baby, sweet baby, I missed you so much… so… so much….” 

A warm tingling pricked at the sides of Hannah’s eyes, she thought she might cry, but she kept it at bay, nodded, her hands tightening around him as his nose grazed her cheek and his lips were on her earlobe, then kissing the nape of her neck softly.  He drew her closer to him, taking her left hand in his right palm to sway  around the room, half speaking/half singing the lyrics to the song “Lady in Red” softly in her ear. Austin’s slow, gravelly, semi-British inflection pulled her in and she followed his lead, moving in harmony, their bodies softening and relaxing as they remembered how they fit together. 

I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you do tonight…

I've never seen you shine so bright

You’re amazing

I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side

And when you turned to me and smiled

It took my breath away

And I have never had such a feeling

Such a feeling of complete and utter love

As I do tonight

The lady in red is dancing with me

Cheek to cheek

There's nobody here

It's just you and me

It's where I want to be

Well, I hardly know this beauty by my side

I'll never forget the way you look tonight

Austin’s voice cracked, and Hannah heard it and felt it, with her head was resting on his chest. It sent a wave of electricity up her belly. Austin paused by the window, smoothing her hair, his fingers trailing down her back.

“I love you, Red, forever and always..,”

“I love you too, Austin, always and forever.” He gripped her closer as he felt her voice reverberating through his chest. 

Austin pulled back to look into Hannah’s big brown eyes, wide and vulnerable, her pupils blown with longing, and he answered it with a kiss, stroked her back with his thumb. The kisses became deeper, his mouth enclosing her upper lip, softly, then pulling on it, before their tongues collided, each beckoning the other to consume them completely. Hannah fingers worked their way down the buttons of his black, flower patterned dress shirt, slowly, biting her lip as it finally fell to the floor and her hands moved, shakily, over his smooth, firm skin.  Austin grabbed her right hand, kissing the back of her palm. Her other hand brushed a lock of his long hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

“I like the long hair, by the way… you look like a handsome, rock star surfer.” Hannah whispered, grasping a handful and pushing it behind his right ear. 

“Thanks…” Austin muttered distractedly as he pulled at her dress, exhaling with awe as he slowly raised it up over her head, shaking his head and popping his lips at the sight of Hannah’s heaving pale breasts. He bent down in reverence to kiss the line of freckles above them, grinning like a school boy at the sound of his fingers successfully pulling off the last hook of her bra clasp. Now his hands were moving slowly down her back, playing with the elastic of her panties as his lips forged a trail from her décolletage to her mouth. Feeling her tense, he looked down to see Hannah sucking in her stomach, using her arms to cover the slope of her belly and hips, and he stepped back, as if reading her mind, he pulled her hands away so her could admire her whole figure.

“You’re gorgeous, Red… really… I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Stop…”

“No, really…” Austin lowered himself on his quads to grab Hannah by her ass cheeks, lifting her up and carrying her under her knees and back over to the bed, then laying her down gently. Hovering over her, Austin’s eyes smoldered. “I need to tell you something baby…. you look better, you look healthy, you look like you did when we met… this is how your body is supposed to look…” his hand stroked the roundness of her hips, grabbing and rolling her soft, supple flesh, as he leaned in to kiss Hannah’s shoulder, smirking as she whimpered in response to the soft touch of his fingers tracing a line up her belly to her breasts to flick her nipple. A bolt of lightening ran down Hannah’s spine and sparked at her core, a fire building as Austin mumbled on, the arousal in his voice shuddering through. “These curves just kill me… I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times now, and every time it’s still …. a fucking revelation, I just want to sink in, explore every contour, feel every bounce, taste every inch of you…” as he said this, Austin pushed himself lower, until he was on his knees at the base of the bed, looking into Hannah’s eyes as he slowly slide her panties off, eyebrow arched in a question, then hastening to rip them off once Hannah nodded her chin in assent. Austin dragged her legs towards him until they were over his shoulder and Hannah’s rosy pink pussy met his face with a wet slap at the edge of the bed. He held her still when she twitched, responding to the intense flick of his tongue over the center her clit. Austin spoke into Hannah’s sex, his hands soothing the top of her thighs.

“Shhhh… s’ok… don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you baby…”

“Mhmmmm I know, I’m ok,” Hannah’s eyes met Austin’s, looking up at her between her legs. “ I just… I don’t think I’ve ever done this sober, not really, not like this where I’ve been clean for months…”

Austin leaned forward to lav at Hannah’s core, maintaining eye contact, and then pausing to rub her clit with his thumb, savoring the pitter patter of his finger against her slick flesh. 

“I’m into it, I want to see you, the real you, I can’t wait to watch you come undone, unfiltered, knowing that I am making you feel pleasure, and not some chemicals…” 

Throwing her head back, Hannah cried out when Austin returned his tongue to her nub, her fingers seizing the duvet cover to steady her through the intense waves of pleasure washing over her as the tip of his tongue rolled on her, up and down in a syncopated trance, then shifting to circle around her core, bringing his thumb to messaged her entrance and gently open it up, his tongue back home on her clit, fingers gliding inside her, calling out to her center as his rhythm intensified, responding to the thrust of Hannah’s hips now fucking into his mouth was she chased the sensation building in her belly until she screamed out a refrain of “oh gods,” her face contorting in agony through her release, hips bucking slowly as the waves crashed outward and the heat of her orgasm rippled out across her body. The sparks flew up through her nose and tingled down to the skin at the base of her feet.

“Oh god Austin… I FUCKING love you…” she cried out, her head flinging back as she panted. Austin grinned up at her, his thumb riding her through her climax over her clit, before she pulled him off by his wrist, unable to take the over stimulation. Hannah perched up on her elbows and caught her breathe, her fingers aimlessly twirliing Austin’s long hair. He smirked a self-satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth on the duvet, then lifting himself up effortlessly from his shins.

Hannah admired his bare abs, rising in a V shape to broad, muscular hard shoulders, he spoke while looking down to unbuckle his pants. “I honestly don’t know how long I’ll last today baby…. It’s been a while… unless you count jerking off to the sound of your voice…” Still panting, Hannah’s mouth turned into a bright gleam, and she sat up, making him trip over the edge of the bed as she pulled him down toward her, kicking off the last leg of his trousers and jostling to land over her with a burst of laughter. Pushing the blonde hair out of his face, Hannah looked up into his eyes with an affectionate grin, the reverence she found there made her gasp.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you’re really here with me, that it’s really you,” she whispered, pinching his arm. “I’m afraid any moment I’m going to wake up in my bed at GK and this will all be some sort of wet dream.”

Austin leaned in, meeting his lips with hers, his tip grazing her entrance as he met her eyes. 

“If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up, I just wanna be here with you.” He started to push into her, slowly, grunting low as a he watched Hannah’s eyes widen and her breath hitch in her throat with a gasp, exhaling through the snug fit of her cunt and the way she involuntary clenched around him.

“Hey, you ok?” His eyes darted up to search hers.

“Mhmmmmm…uh huh…” she answered, moaning out, “I just… may be out of practice…”

“S’ok…” Austin slowly thrust out, and then, rocking back into her, he grabbed her hips and swiveled onto his back so that Hannah was now on top. “Take the wheel, baby, let’s go at your pace.” 

Pausing to reposition her knees on either side of his hips, Hannah pushed her hands onto his chest to steady herself, her breath sharp as she lifted off of him and then slid back down, a glint in her eyes. 

“I like ... uhhhh… how I tell you… I’m …ummff….. out of practice and… ahhhhh…. out of shape and that I don’t know what I’m doing…. And …o f fuck…..you put me in charge…” She grunted, her voice was playful as she began to bob up and down on Austin’s cock, biting her lips as she found the angle that made a spark jolting up through her core with each forward movement.

“Oh god, fuck I missed you so much….” Austin groaned, his hands digging into her hips as she rode him deeper and he rose to meet each thrust, his hands tightening to slow her down. “Whoo, wait, hold on…” Hannah paused, as Austin pushed himself up, his legs folding under her as he pulled her knees up on either side of him.  Hannah felt his cock push deeper, as she met his body, straddling him at eye level as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and she lowered her legs on either side of his, her arms now hooked around his shoulders. Their bodies were twisted together upright in an embrace as Hannah began to grind against Austin slowly in lotus position, feeling his length glide up and down within her, the muscles in his arms tensing as they moved with her hips to support each push up and down. Face-to-face in the middle of the bed, their mouths hovered across from each other as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Austin’s breath synced with Hannah’s and she grasped the back of his neck, twirling his hair into a rope away from his face as she kissed him deeply, passionately, heaving back and forth as her pussy opened up further for him with each thrust. 

“I missed you too…” Hannah murmured between low gasps, her hips dipping up and down deliberately, a loud moan escaping her mouth.

Austin’s fingers drew her in closer. “Let’s just live here in this bed and… never… uhhhh … leave… ok?”  Amused, Hannah nodded, as Austin pulled her in for another kiss, his lips wet, tongue furtive, bodies pressed tightly together, Austin savored the swell of Hannah’s breasts against his heart as they fucked into each other in a slow, soulful rhythm. Austin’s hands began to move Hannah’s hips more energetically.

“I love you… Hannah Banana”

“I love you too pretty boy…” her fingers slide down to his chest and began to tweak his nipples, and Hannah bit her lip as his blue eyes met hers with an intense heat, plunging down onto him, hips rippling as he worked them with her and she felt a tension building in her core. “Fuck Austin, I think I’m gonna cum again…”

He bit his lip, nodding his forehead against hers. “Hey, that’s my girl… just relax… don’t fight it…. Uhhhh god….you feel so soft when you cum…  ride me through it… FUCK I fucking love you….”

Letting loose Hannah cried out, trembling as she continued to rock back and forth over Austin until he jerked harder up into her, his abdomen tightening, her name on his lips as he convulsed and exploded deep inside her. 

“Oh god...” Austin muttered, his brow bending into hers as he stilled her hips and Hannah pushed down, squeezing her arms around him until they fell sideways. She landed on his chest as they exhaled, a heaving pile of spent limbs. 

The sun set over the ocean, and Hannah and Austin spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, crawling to the phone to order room service, sitting on the bed lazily drinking Pellegrino and feeding each other French fries, finding new ways for their bodies to fit together when splayed across each other. Austin murmured in her ear how he wanted Hannah to move in with him when she graduated, and she nodded, all the pride and snark and insecure stubbornness fucked out of her. 

“Ok. If you mean it.”

“Let me take care of you Hannah.”

“We can take care of each other, ok? I’m not some helpless patient… I’m just… trying to get better… but… I am so, so SO grateful, lucky? For your support… it makes it so much easier to be here now that I an escape with you….” She answered, and he kissed her forehead.

“You’re right… we take care of each other… and I’ll be back next weekend, cuz I need you…. Being here with you, it’s like you fill up this empty, Hannah shaped hole in my life….”

She giggled, and slapped his shoulder. “I feel like you fill up an empty Austin-shaped hole deep inside me…”

Austin rolled his eyes. “I meant figuratively… like a part of my soul is incomplete without you.”

Hannah turned to look at him, as he spooned her from behind, their eyes met and Hannah waggled her eyebrows, leaning up to kiss Austin’s lips and then moving around so that they were once again tangled in an embrace, kissing deeply as their bodies softly heaved into one another, and before he knew it, Austin was above Hannah again, hard, looking for her nod as he spread her legs and guided himself into her once more.

“Oh gawd, baby, when I’m inside you I just feel like I’m home….” 

Hannah’s big brown eyes, widened, a deep laugh burst out of her throat, followed by the sharp gasp she exhaled as Austin’s cock lunged into her. 

“Austin, that is so corny, that’s like the Hallmark card for vaginas… CUM home Austin…”

“Shhh, Hannah…ughhhh” he smiled down at her, hovering above as he continued to thrust into her. “Don’t ruin the romantic mood——”

“Ok..baby… you’re right…. It’s so… ughhhh.. romantic when you tell me how my pussy is like …ahhh” their conversation was punctuated by groans of pleasure. “House….”

“Like home, like it is so comforting to be inside a familiar pussy, a homey pussy…ughhhh”

She laughed and shook her head, and then gripped his sides as Austin began to pump into her harder, and Hannah could no longer form full sentences, her whole body buzzed from the electricity generated by each pound against her g spot. Within a few more minutes, she was coming unraveled, and Austen soon followed.

Dozing off in a post coital nap, it was 8:15 when Hannah eventually rose and began to dress, looking over her shoulder with a heavy heart. Austin followed, hand through his hair, retrieving his own clothes and dropping her back at her rehab with the promise that he would be at family visitation the next day. Before she got out of the car, Hannah handed him a small jewelry box with a bow wrapped around it.

“Happy birthday, pretty boy…”

He opened the box, finding a cassette tape labeled with Hannah’s handwriting, Songs that Make Me Think of You. 

“ I was planning to give it to you tomorrow… there are no cool shops in Half Moon Bay… and you have so much money and stupid things anyway…. so I thought I’d make you something… there some Cure, REM, Pixies, Elvis Costello…. some love songs… ugh, it’s stupid… I mean, you just bought yourself a Lamborghini…”

Austin grinned, shaking his head, as he cupped her face and drew her to him. “Shut up. This is perfect because you made it for me… I can’t wait to listen to it…”

Mid August though Mid September, 1991

The next few weekends would follow much the same, as Austin drove up from LA to visit and September came to call, bringing with it a cooler bite to the coastal California sea air. The mood at rehab changed perceptibly, and Hannah waltzed through her days on a pink cloud, scribbling daily journal entries, speaking openly and positively in groups, meetings, sessions with her counselor and her NA sponsor. As she started to make plans to move home, phrase three was in her sights, all she had to do was connect with a temporary NA sponsor in LA and set up a meeting, and she could start planning to graduate the first week of October. 

It was a balmy, early Tuesday morning when Hannah bounded down the staircase from her dorms to the foyer, whistling REM’s “Shiny Happy People,” when a note stuck in her throat at the sight of Min waiting for her on a bench. Austin had been up to visit the previous weekend, and had said nothing about his publicist visiting her before he departed Sunday. She started to open her mouth, and Min motioned for her to follow as she led Hannah back to what was usually her counselor’s office.

“James, is it? Said I could use his office.” Hannah nodded, and watched with horror as Min unfurled several tabloids in front of Hannah with the previous days’ date on them. There, on the front, were photos of her and Austin: kissing, walking, holding hands, at the hotel and then saying goodbye at the front of the Golden Key’s main building. The headline read “Butler’s Romance with Downey’s Junkie Jailbird.”

“Fuckkkk… what the fuck Min?”

“Someone tipped off the paparazzi. Either someone who saw you at the hotel, or walking around this charming institution. Doesn’t matter who, at this point, it’s out there. And they have the whole story, your name, the details of the arrest, everything.”

Hannah gulped, flipping through the pages and gasping in horror as she found the double-page spread with photos someone had taken driving by the arrest with her and Downey, next to her mug shot and a photo of her and Austin walking down the red carpet at US premiere of his last film, David Lynch’s Crazy at Heart. Min straightened her glasses, her deep Black skin somehow radiant even first thing in the morning, when Hannah imagined she must have woken up very early in order to drive or fly up from LA.

“Austin doesn’t know I’m here. And I think we both know that boy is like a Labrador retriever. He will not do the smart thing, he will be loyal, he will not break up with you. But he must. You are a liability to his career. I cannot stress that enough. I’m sorry, I have to say it as it is. Bob is not getting any offers, and he was nominated for an Oscar, because he can not get insurance coverage until he finishes treatment and stays out of trouble for at least a year, I not more. His career may very well be over…  I begged Austin, BEGGED him, not to have you walk down the carpet last year, to keep his private life private, but did he listen? No. And I, foolishly, didn’t put my foot down, because it didn’t really matter, did it? Who cares if an actor dates a random normal person, it’s not as fun to read about as two celebrities dating, so the gossip mongers have pretty much left you two alone. No one ever saw this photo from then red carpet before, it was all they cared about were pictures of him with Laura Dern or Lynch. Even with the arrest, all eyes were on Downey. You were literally cut out of the photos so the papers could get a better close up framing Downer with the cops. And with your plea deal, we managed to keep you under the radar. But now, the only way to make this go away is to stop providing them fodder and distract them with something new.”

Hannah met Min’s eyes, confused, as she sat down, and Min followed suit, perching on the edge of the chair across from Hannah.

“Just tell me what to do. Like a statement that we aren’t involved.”

“What? Actually comment on this? God no. No. It just needs to stop. You need to break it off, and then I will  set him up with some very public dates. Maybe with some of his costars from Jagger, like Halle Berry, Rosie Perez, Christie Brinkley, they played his main love interests….” Hannah nodded, and then Min reached over and put her hand over Hannah’s and squeezed it. “You know, Hannah, if you want to be truly happy, though, you should just pull off the band aid and really break up with him today. While you’re in here, safe from temptation, and cared for, where you can heal. Actors should date other famous people, who know what this lifestyle is. This thing, its never going to work long term. Look at you, dear, are you better or worse off after doing this tango with Austin on and off for four years? Dating someone famous, its extremely difficult….  its like a swan dating a rat, he should be with another swan…”

Hannah pulled her hand back, brow furrowed.

“So I’m a rat now?”

Min breathed deeply.

“I was trying to emphasize difference. He’s above-the-line talent, you’re below-the-line crew. He grew up with money, you didn’t and you are always going to worry whether you are enough, no matter what he says, or how much you trust him. You and Austin different species, that’s all I’m saying. If you are honest with yourself, you already know in your heart I’m right.” Min patted her own heart. “Look, you can do whatever you want. But dear, no one was interested in a story about a young woman going to rehab after getting arrested, not until they saw Austin up here, then someone told the paps and they started poking around. You need to look out for yourself. What is going to happen to you? And your career? If you stay together, I guarantee this is not the last time you’ll be in the tabloids. It’s the first. Of many. Either way, you need to convince him to stop coming up here to visit. To have public dates with a few famous women. The paps will loose interest and it will all blow over….. Unless you keep adding fuel to the fire. If this stops, you may still be able to salvage your reputation, there will be people who didn’t read this tabloid. But if the coverage continues, week after week as he visits, or when you come back, or if you relapse… at some point, things that normal people get to keep private will come out, and it’s possible Variety or the LA Times will do a story on you guys.”

Hannah nodded, starting at her fingers in concentration. She knew what she had to do.

October 15, 1991

The drive back down to Los Angeles was long, and Avi was silent, giving his daughter the room she needed to be with her thoughts as she mentally prepared for her new life, her clean life, life after rehab. Hannah sighed. Ugh, its worse than being 18…. I’m a single, unemployed 28 year old loser. She pulled in one of Austin’s hoodies she had kept after a visit, wallowing in the melancholy that washed over her. 

Austin had become irate when she broke up with him over the phone in her counselor’s office the day Min visited her three weeks ago…

“Are you fucking serious? Because of some tabloid bull shit? You know I don’t care. Fame doesn’t fucking interest me, I just want to be with you, work with great people and make art. ”

“But, Austin, being famous gives you the profile do that  —“

“Sure, but so you take the good with the bad. You know that, you grew up in this business.”

“And look at how fucked up I am. Plus, its not like the paparazzi chase after editors, Austin, that is definitely a bonus from dating you …”

“You think I like them? Those people are parasites… they are the SCUM of the earth, I cannot believe you are letting them control your life—”

“Austin, I am not LETTING them do anything, I am just trying to live life on life’s terms, one day at a day—“

“Don’t you dare start throwing those AA cliches at ME, Hannah. At least be real. We love each other. Nothing else matters. You’re just hurt and scared and you’re reacting like a baby…”

“NA cliches, please, if you are gonna insult me at least be accurate… look it doesn’t matter….  You re not being fair… I AM trying to be real. You know what’s real? I don’t have a job lined up. In this business, you are only as good as your next job, and this type of stuff might make it impossible—”

“So what? You don’t need a job, Just come live with me. I’ll take care of you …”

“Do you know how demoralizing it is for you to talk to me like that? As if I haven’t been working like a dog for the last seven years to get where I am? Let alone how bad just sitting around your house waiting for you to come home and fuck me would be for my recovery? The tabloids, the paparazzi, they aren’t the problem. They’re a symptom of the real problem, which is how incompatible we are. You’re a swan, and I am a rat, we are defying the laws of nature—”

Austin growled. “Are you high right now? They should give you a drug test. You sound ridiculous. I literally don’t even know what that means with the swan and the rat. Ugh! You are being so stupid. You always do this, you get stuck on how I’m a ‘movie star,’ and then you blow it out of proportion because you are insecure and stubborn. Most woman would be overjoyed to have someone offer to support them while they figure out their shit. And work through this together.” 

“Austin, you don’t get it, and I can’t do this, we’re talking in circles… look, my sponsor told me not to date anyone for my first year sober, and I completely ignored her. But clearly I was wrong, because this whole thing is a trigger for me, you are a trigger. We have too much baggage, from before, from now. I love you, I love you so much…” tears started to well up in Hannah’s eyes, and her voice wavered. “But love isn’t enough and I have to put myself first.”

The sound of her sobs made Austin even angrier. “No. The answer is NO. I’m not letting you do this. We are not breaking up, you are being hysterical.” Her sobs got louder, and Austin sighed, running his hand through his hair and tried to calm down. He could almost see Hannah’s pale face becoming blotchy and red and wet as she cried. It was beautiful and ugly and he couldn’t bear it. “Oh Banana, look, you’re upset. We can’t have this conversation over the phone. I’m gonna get in my car and drive up right now.”

“NO! No, Austin, no, don’t come up here - they took those photos of you coming here, it might even be another resident here. Please, please, don’t come up.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes, breathing deeply to steady her voice. “Look, this isn’t up to you. You don’t get to let me do anything. It’s over. Do not come up here, do not call, do not try to see me. I’m taking you off the guest list. Can’t you understand? I need to do this for…. my recovery. I just need to be single and focus on staying clean.”

 “I canNOT fucking believe you are doing this, after everything. I have done nothing but support you getting sober. You can’t take me off the guest list, I PAID for that fucking rehab, did you know that? And now what do I get in return? Gratitude? NO. You’re fucking punishing me for staying with you. For getting ‘caught’ on camera being the good guy. Ugh!!!!” Austin had slammed down the phone and then paced the living room, punching the wall.  

Hannah collapsed on the desk sobbing, and when she calmed down and tried to look up, she would see the corny twelve step slogans framed on the wall and start crying again. Because part of her knew he was right, that it was unfair to use recovery as an excuse. But she was also convinced this was the best thing for both of them. Definitely for him. The fact that he had ended up paying for her rehab only solidified how wrong she was for him, how he deserved better. She’d had no idea, her lawyer Sheila had told her that her health insurance had covered it, but she had left all the details to Sheila. Who Austin had probably subsidized as well, once she started to think about it, realizing how little the legal invoice had been. She hadn’t even questioned that at the time. You’re a fucking idiot. And so is he, I wish he had kept his fucking money to himself and let me go to whatever shit hole the Motion Picture Health & Welfare insurance would have covered. 

Sitting n her father’s Honda, Hannah pulled the collar of Austin’s hoody tight, letting the faint smell of his cologne comfort her. The break up conversation felt so fresh it could have been yesterday instead of three weeks ago, probably because she replayed it over and over again in her head. The intervening days had gone by in a blur, going through the motions of putting on a brave face, finishing her phrase three preparations, doing whatever she had to do and saying whatever she had to say so she could leave. She’d have to be careful, she knew now that because Austin had paid for her stay, he probably knew he was out, and his house was only 15 minutes down the coast from her father’s mobile home community. That is the first thing, figure out a new place to live.

Avi gave her a soft, sweet look as he unloaded her luggage. “You look like you could use a cup of tea, Noodle. And perhaps a meeting.” Hannah smiled weakly, her heart breaking as she considered how much it probably hurt her father to see her like this, how worried he probably had been after the arrest. 

“Yeah pop.” She jumped out of the car, and took the other suitcases out of the trunk, following Avi into the trailer.

October 31, 1991

Playboy Mansion Halloween Party

The sound of the waterfall broke up the cocktail chatter as Austin felt the ice cube in his glass hit his teeth, the smooth whiskey warming his throat as he gulped it down. He pulled on his white silk tie, straightening it over his pink dress shirt. He ran his fingers through his long blonde hair, and looked over at Emilio chatting with a Latinx bunny in a cute Kelly green corset with matching bunny ears. He rolled his eyes as Emilio asked her flirty questions, using is had to wave  her over to him and pointing in his empty glass.

“Alma, is it? Keep ‘em coming, okay sweetheart?”

Emilio shook his head in mock disgust. They’d met on the set of Austin’s first movie in 1988,  he’d played a the main villain, a frat boy that Estevez’s character was investigating for murder. The Playboy Mansion wasn’t really Austin’s scene, but Emilio and Rick, a producer they both knew, had invited him and he pushed himself to get out of his house and come mingle. It was hard to distinguish the bunnies from the starlets and aspiring actresses dressed up for the Playboy Halloween Party in some sort of costume that involved a corset with heels. There was corset Wonder Woman, corset black cat, corset witches, was that a corset cow girl?

An hour or so later, he was mindlessly nodding in conversation with his friend Rick, Rosie Perez, who had  played the role of Jagger’s first wife, and a few bunnies whose names he didn’t really catch when he felt a strong hand slap his back, and turned to see Keanu Reeves behind him. 

“Butler,” he said, softly, and Austin turned to shake his hand as Keanu’s arm lingered around his shoulder. His smile was open, vulnerable, but there was a mystery in his stoic eyes. “So, still knee deep in the editing bay?” Keanu grinned, then stepped aside to grab a glass of champagne from a waiter walking by.

“What?” Austin sipped his own drink, watching as Keanu lit a cigarette.

“You’re girl, I met her on Point Break, she here with you?”

“Oh right,” Austin emptied his glass and slammed it down, looking around for a waiter or bunny, suddenly very very thirsty. He had only met Keanu in passing at aa few events, and had been so preoccupied with his own film project he hadn’t really paid much thought to Hannah’s work over the last year.  “Yeah, we actually just split last month…” 

Keanu blew cigarette smoke up into the air, shaking his head. “There was something about her, man, those tits, am I right?” 

Austin frowned, then pushed Keanu lightly in the chest. “Hey man.”

Keanu’s eyes narrowed, and a dry smirk formed across his lips. “Yeah, no I get it. Must have been some good snatch if you’re still hung up on her. Tell me, did the curtains match the drapes?” Waggling his eyebrows, his voice was dry, sincere and earnest, Keanu’s grin widened as Austin pulled back his fist and jabbed him in the face, his dark hair flopping as he staggered back, laughing, as he lunged forward and landed an uppercut in Austin’s chest. Seconds later Austin was pulling him down on the ground, and they rolled on top of each other needing, kicking each other until Austin landed over him, and was about to pummel him again when the strong arms of security guards pulled him off and escorted them both out of the party. 

Standing at the front of the mansion’s gothic Tudor front building, Austin rubbed his chest as he waited for the valet to bring his car around, he looked to his side as Keanu stood there, wiping the blood from his cracked lip.  Keanu laughed, and went toward a black Porsche that was being brought around.

“Hey Austin, I’m sorry man, I was just fucking with you. I’m in a weird head space tonight, c’mon, let me make it up to you. I know just what you need.”

“What about my car?”

“Leave it, it’ll be here in the morning. “

Still buzzed, even though the fight had sobered him up, Austin shrugged and thought to himself, why the fuck not, as he leaned to sit passenger seat next to Keanu and they roared off down the hills toward Sunset.

Keanu lit another cigarette, and tapped a speed dial on his car phone.

“Hey, Polly? Hey it’s Josey Wells,” he winked at Austin, and whispered, “code name,” grinning at Austin’s confusion. “Yeah, hey, yeah, I’m wondering if its too late to put in an order for the night? Yeah. Something red, and thick. Mhmmm. Yeah, that’s the one. Send it to my house.”

Austin sat back, and rolled down the window, watching as they winded down Sunset toward the ocean.

Walking towards Keanu’s front door, Austin took in the collection of motorcycles in his garage. They were in a canyon in Malibu, up above the Pacific Coast with a view of the ocean.

“You know I live just down the road, I shoulda followed you…. So, you gonna keep me in suspense or what?”

Turning on lights, Keanu walked to his bar and poured them both drinks. 

“You know, I’ve been in love. I know what it is to have your heart broken. Bad. Like where it hurts just to think about her. I can see it in your eyes, amigo.”

Austin drained his glass, tilting his head back he closed his eyes as he breathed deeply, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, loosening his tie. He took his white sport’s jacket off and draped it over a chair. Turning to Keanu, he pursed his lips, jaw tensing. “OK, so?”

“Well, the best way to get over someone is to —”

“Start seeing someone else. Yeah, I’ve heard from all my friends. Problem is, I don’t want to date anyone else.”

Keanu walked to his fridge, and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, which he placed over his face as after he lay down on his couch. Austin followed, listening to Keanu’s dry voice emanate through the peas.

“Exactly. Which is why the best way, the actual best way to get over someone, is to find a hooker who looks just like ‘em, work out all your issues through sex. It’s very cathartic, trust me.”

Austin’s sullen face transformed to a bright beaming grin, his cheeks squeezing up as he exploded in laughter.

“You cannot be serious.” Austin’s bottom lip hung down in disbelief.

Keanu looked up from the bag of peas at Austin, who was now sitting in a leather chair across from him

“Hmmm… just wait, she’ll be here any minute. Trust me, Polly Fleissman is the best madam in this town. First one’s on me.”

Austin stroked his chin with his right thumb and forefinger. “How much is it?”

Keanu grinned like a giddy school boy, “S’ $1500 a night… and worth every penny.”

It was midnight when Keanu ushered in a white, red headed woman with curly hair, about the same height as Hannah, plump and voluptuous. It distinctly was not Hannah, but he would have done a double take passing her on the street. The tell was how clean cut she looked in a simple, expensive beige drape halter dress, and her sexy, confident voice, greeting them, introducing herself as “Jacqueline, but you can call me whatever you like.” Welcomed her in, offered her a drink, and the pulled out a small bag of white pills from his pocket, and held it up, jiggling the pills.

“I got some mitsubishis, what do you guys say, wanna party?”

Jacqui smiled, and stuck out her tongue. 30 minutes later, they were rolling, Austin’s skin was tingling, sweat lined his brow, and he kept swallowing. Keanu had put some low house music on, and Jacqui came to perch on Austin’s lap, her hands caressing his face, wiping the sweat from his brow, as his hands moved down her body and under her skirt, just the touch of her skin made the blood rush to his cock, he pulled on her red curls with his other hand, telling her how she was the most beautiful girl in the world, how he loved her, as she giggled, and kissed his neck, her hand moving to his pants and finding the outline of his erection. Stroking it, she whispered, “Does that feel good baby?” Austin nodded, looking into her eyes, then looking up as Keanu joined them, his own hands settling over Jacqui’s neck. He winked at Austin.

“I think we’d be more comfortable in the bed room, eh?”

Jacqui stood up, taking Austin by the hand, they followed Keanu together into a dimly lit master bedroom, the walls were a light grey, and the bed was a dark metal, very modern, with black sheets, pillows, blankets. Shirt off, Keanu stalked to Austin, and put his bar arm around Austin’s shoulder, messaging his neck was they watched Jacqui undress. Keanu’s hands stroked the back of Austin’s neck, and he leaned into, groaning, he felt like Keanu fingers were drawing out all the negative energy in his body, in his brain, replacing it with golden light that was making his skin glow. Looking over at Keanu, it looked like his pale, white body was gleaming with an otherworldly iridescence.

“Keanu, fuck, I love you man, I think you’re my best friend.”

Keanu’s hands moved from Austin’s neck and snaked around his chest as his chin pushed into the top of Austin’s shoulder, a low chuckle on Austin’s ear as he pulled into him. 

“I think the e has kicked in… so, AB, ever been to a Hawaiian pig roast?” 

Austin turned to Keanu’s cheek, shaking his head.

“No? Well I’m gonna show you how to skewer a live one from both sides.” Keanu winked, and kissed Austin roughly on the cheek, thens stepping back towards the bed. Jacqui giggled as Keanu beckoned her to him, his long nose dipped down to nuzzle her bare heaving breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just beige lacy panties, and her alabaster skin shone in the dim light. Completely uninhibited, Austin couldn’t get his clothes off soon enough. He watched with an open mouth was Keanu dipped down, slowly removing Jacqui’s underwear, then looking over at him as he unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants to reveal his thick, stiff manhood, then jumping on the bed, scooting back towards the headboard and beckoning Jacqui to follow with his finger. She turned to look at Austin, smiling, her breasts bouncing as she climbed on the bed with Keanu. 

“Coming?” She giggled.

Austin’s long, blonde hair swayed as he nodded, watching as Jacqui’s ass lifted up in the air while she leaned down to suck Keanu’s cock. In that moment, Austin eagerly followed, watching as Keanu’s raven hair hit the bed frame when the actor leaned back, eyes squeezed shut, uncontrollably biting his lower lip as Jacqui’s head bobbed up and down on his length. Austin rested his hands over the roundness of Jacqui’s bottom, kissing her right cheek as his left hand took hold of the other.

“You sure this is ok with you?” His voice wavered, his blue eyes met Keanu’s as he grinned, pulling on the mess of curls above Jacqui’s head for her to pause.

“It ok with you if my friend there roasts you from the other end?”

Jacqui grinned, and turned her head over her shoulder. 

“Such a gentleman… hmmmhmmm… I think I can take it, big boy. Let me make you feel good.” Austin laughed, it was cliche, but high, every word was a sweet sensation and he went for it. Her skin was electric, and he bent his lips down below her cheeks to find her entrance, kissing at her lips, which he noted were waxed, bare, silky smooth, unlike Hannah’s wild mane, and his tongue sought out her clit easily between the soft, manicured folds, moving up and down as her body rocked with the rhythm of her mouth gliding up and down Keanu’s dick. The breathy sound of a feminine groan joined Keanu’s murmurs of “fuck” and “take it” and “oh my god this feels amazing….”  Austin moved one finger, and then another inside of Jacqui, messaging her open and searching for her pleasure point as his tongue flicked over her nub, smiling into her and pulling her ass up as he felt her twitch under him. It was not long before Jacqui cried out, and Austin was pulling his lips off her, and straddling her from behind, thrusting in and out of her pussy, slowly at first, the sensation heightened by the ecstasy, the excitement of the threesome, and the way her body and the bouncing mess of red hair conjured up his intense longing to be with Hannah again. 

Keanu looked at him over Jacqui’s writhing body between them, Austin’s lips puckered in an growl as he rolled in and out of her.

“Who ever whips his cream first has to pay for the pizza,” Keanu grinned, his eyes narrowing, and Austin chuckled, happy for the distraction because he was just on the edge, and Keanu’s conversation jarred his attention. He slowed down his pacing, and looked at Keanu, shaking his head.

“Man, you are crazy.” That night Keanu paid for the hooker, Austin paid for the pizza. But Polly Fleissman, the Hollywood Madam, would soon begin to get a steady stream of revenue for her services from Austin.

The next time Austin fucked Jacqui they were alone in a suite at the Chateau Marmont during what would become regular Thursday night consensual role playing sessions. Calling her Red, he would take out his frustrations with Hannah as he pummeled into the prostitute from behind, talking in a low, gravelly voice as he thrust into her, slapping her ass, pulling her shoulders, holding her head down into the pillow.

“Do you feel that? You fucking bitch. That’s how much I fucking love you… how could you do this to me. To us.” Austin groaned. The release as he came inside Jacqui was immediate. Addictive. And never fulfilling as it was with Hannah. Austin missed her brown eyes, innocently looking up at him, her voice teasing but her body and movements untrained, completely charming in how awkward or stilted she was. He missed that moment, with Hannah, when he could see her expression change, from being guarded to the moment she gave up her pretenses and opened up for him, her eyes filled with pure adoration. Austin couldn’t bare to look Jacqui in her eyes, at least not while her fucked her, especially with the degrading way he usually spoke to her.  Jacqui was not shy, and she never blushed when she undressed, making sounds of approval whether Austin railed her aggressively until the sound of him slapping into her cracked through the suite, or whether he licked her soft and tenderly.

He paid double to have her visit him on Thanksgiving, having her suck his dick, and then, for a change, Austin motioned for her to get on top. Was their rocking motion increased, he put his hands around her neck, lightly choking her, calling her a selfish bitch, and then ordering Jacqui to punch him and tell him what a bastard he was. 

“Tell me.” His right squeezed tighter around her neck, and his left hand pulling on her red curls and then tracing down her back to slap her ass, his biceps flexing as he grasped her up and down faster towards his chisled abdomen. “Tell me, tell me I am a spoiled, mediocre yuppie, a hack, a fraud, an empty vessel with no. creative. talent. TELL ME. Tell me you hate me!”

Jacqui’s face darkened, and then she repeated the list back to him in a condescending lilt, her performance somewhat contrived, a watered down rendition of a melodramatic scene from Dallas or Dynasty. Then she punched him, soundly smashing her right fist into his left eye socket and Austin came shortly after, groaning out like a man possessed being exorcized from his demons. As soon as he was sated, he was pushing her off him, looking ahead as he stalked off to the bathroom and dismissing Jacqui with a “You can go now,” without looking back. Sitting on the toilet, head in his hands, he wept and swore he was done with this. No more. But then the next Thursday, he would find himself back in his regular suite, fucking Jacqui into the wall from behind while he whispered all of Hannah’s character defects in her ear. 

Austin spent November and December distracting himself from his the gnawing need to find Hannah, throw her over his shoulder and head for a secluded cabin somewhere remote where he could have the space and quiet and solitude to make her understand that they could be happy and good and healthy together. They needed to be together He knew it would be different if he could just talk with her in person, but he felt guilty for the way he had acted when they broke up. The way he belittled her recovery. Her career. The way he threw his payment for her rehab in her face. The only person he trusted to talk about this stuff with was his sister, Ashley, and she convinced him to leave Hannah alone for a few months, give her some space to get back on her feet, and possibly forget the way he had  hurt her over the phone to retaliate for the way her decision had pierced him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and to Austin, making no sense.

So, inside of kidnapping his ex girlfriend, Austin fucked a high-end prostitute that looked like Hannah and focused on work. He met with his agent Brett to look over scripts for his next project, finished up final voice over for Jagger and mapped out his promotion schedule for the film with his assistant, Alex.  Humoring Min, Austin went out to several parties and events with dates she arranged for him, taking Halle Berry to the premiere of Cape Fear, Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford’s wedding, and planning to take her to the premiere of their film the week before it was released nationwide on Christmas.

Alex was also under a strict Hannah assignment to update Austin on her whereabouts, to the extent that he was able to. Sometimes, late at night, relaxed driving home from a meeting at the Chateau, Austin would drive by the trailer park at Point Dume, circle around the nearby grocery stores and coffee shops on the off chance that he might catch a glimpse of Hannah from afar, but he never did. So, he bided his time, checking in with Alex daily for any news.

December 26, 1991

Westwood Beach, Malibu, CA

Tide was out, and the slow rhythm of the small waves lapped up Hannah’s shins, leaving her legs cool and wet and sinking into the sand below them. She sat at the shore, hands under her thighs, looking out at the infinite expanse of the sea. The waves grew in size, and she sat there, waiting for one large enough to knock her down so her head was under the water, the salt water enveloping her. She willed the waves to wash her away into the night, staying under water until she couldn’t take it anymore, before finally jumping up and screaming at the moon. As a teenager, she would sneak down here at night to smoke pot, fantasizing that the golden reflection of the moon on the silvery waves was a faery path that would take her up into the sky, away from the dismal mortal life she inhabited on earth. Back then, the worst thing in her life was AP Bio and her unrequited crush on Rick Schlessinger, the object of much angst-ridden poetry written while sitting on the beach, smoking cloves and summoning all the pain her sixteen year old self could muster. That seemed like a cake walk compared to today. 

She had quit smoking when she got home, Avi hated it. Her father was a quiet man, when he wasn’t working as a sound editor in town, she would find him on the sofa in their small trailer overlooking the bluffs, reading science fiction next to a pot of tea and a stack of chocolate dipped biscuits. However, he did turn to her two days after she moved in and explain that he would rather see her doing heroin again than smoking cigarettes. Hurt, indignant, but also humbled by the very real need to save her money and live back at home, Hannah kept her mouth shut and quit smoking. Avi’s quiet British sarcasm was all it took. Apart from that, they got along, and her father reverted to his den mothering ways, cooking dinner most nights and queuing up classic movies on the VCR for them to watch and analyze as they ate. Their love language was film criticism, it was the main vehicle for most of their meaningful conversations. 

Hannah spent her days pounding the pavement, and looking for work. She visited some of her friends from college, reached out to a few directors she had worked with, saw her uncle Abe, the executive at Paramount, and the reoccurring feedback she got was  to lay low for a few months, let the tabloid story recede, and then she would get some traction. In the meantime, she found a job in Vancouver, a Canadian friend from college had started a company editing for the new booming television industry up there that took advantage of those sweet sweet Canuck media tax breaks. She was set to leave for Vancouver in three days.

Hannah had flown up to Vancouver in early November, got the job, and started making her arrangements to leave. Then, a week later, she noticed that her breasts were more sensitive than usual, and gasped when she realized she hadn’t had her period in a while. Like, a while a while. Hannah was not one for tracking her cycle, she didn’t keep a calendar, she was on the pill so she didn’t worry too much. But the minute the thought crossed her mind she knew, she knew before she drove to the drug store and bought the test. She knew before she handed the test to Robin a waited for her friend to read her the result. She knew because she hadn’t bought tampons since she got home from rehab. According to her gynecologist, she was eight weeks pregnant when she found out in mid-November. Since then, Hannah had been in a holding pattern, avoiding dealing with this new reality in any meaningful way. Her sponsor had lectured her to tell Austin, no matter what her decision was, she was supposed to be living a new, honest life, and she shouldn’t try to manage his emotions or reality by keeping it from him. But she couldn’t bare to call him. The OB went over her choices with her, it was 1991, not 1961, but cautioning her that she really needed to make her decision before the end of her third trimester. Just like she had known she was pregnant, Hannah had already known what her decision was. 

“So,” Robin asked, at brunch with Hannah and their other friend, Sarah the Sunday before Thanksgiving. “ I thought you were pro-choice… we just signed up to campaign for Bill Clinton….”

Theoretically, Hannah had always thought that if she got pregnant before she was ready, or not in a committed relationship, she would just have an abortion. But theory didn’t take into account how she actually felt when it actually happened in actual real life. What Hannah really wanted was a time machine to go back and not get pregnant at all. She knew she couldn’t go through with an abortion, and but she was terrified of having a baby. 

“I am pro-choice. Emphasis on choice, Robin. Fuck…. You know I promised Avi when I was 15…”

Robin gasped.

“What do you mean you promised your dad when you were 15? That you would never have an abortion?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, it was the only sex talk we ever had. Driving a long PCH one day, he turned to me and told me if I ever got pregnant, he would raise the baby. I guess Georgie had two secret abortions when she was a teenager. The women in my family ….we are pretty fertile, I guess… I managed to somehow get knocked up on birth control…”

Robin shivered.

“Anyway,” Hannah continued. “My mom didn’t tell him until years later. She always regretted it. He always regretted it. Also, apparently a psychic once told my father she saw more children in his future…”

Sarah chimed in, “Well of course we’ll support—”

“Wait, you feel like because some psychic told your father —” Sarah slapped Robin. “I mean, yes, of course we will support you. And if you want to keep working, well, Austin just gonna have to shell out some of that movie star money for a nanny…”

Hannah sighed, picking apart the paper straw wrapper on the table. “I don’t know if that is exactly the approach I want to take when I tell him… I don’t want him to think I’m using this to get something from him… I need to be able to support myself, no matter what. I mean, obviously I need to tell him…”

But she hadn’t, and now she was at 14 weeks, and moving to Canada for work. In three days. But it was only for four months on a new TV series based on the Highlander movie. So, in theory, she could go work this job, come back at seven months pregnant and then have the baby here in LA. Maybe even pick up another job before the baby came. How hard could it be, she was already sitting down all day anyway? And what about after that? Where is your theory then? Fuck fuck fuck a duck.

“Stop being a pussy and just bite the bullet.” She said out loud. “Just call Austin.” 

Wet and shivering in the cold (for California) January air, Hannah felt the nervousness in her chest tingle and move to the top of her shoulders. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Walking back up the hill from the beach to Avi’s mobile home, Hannah looked down at her waist, her swimsuit under an oversized Les Mis shirt Austin bought her in London. She didn’t really look pregnant yet, the bottom of her belly hadn’t started to bend upward and expand. Her ankles looked thicker, but if you didn’t look at them every day, you probably wouldn’t know.

The longer Hannah put off calling Austin, the more awkward the prospect came, and she found herself flying off to Vancouver without calling him.

taglist @powerofelvis ​ @woundmetender ​ @slowsweetlove ​ @xstrengthxinxtragedyx ​ @cryingabtab ​ @whositmcwhatsit @artlover8992 @crash-and-cure @daffieapple @eliseinmemphis

[wordsandrobots]

It seems to have been a while since I posted an update on how the writing for the next part of Wishing on Space Hardware has been going (well, I complained three weeks ago that it wasn't, but that barely counts).

So, let's refer to the Super Accurate and 100% Serious Plan (TM). Bold represents chapters that currently have complete drafts.

Prologue: Hi, it's me, I am coming for your emotions.

Chapter 1: “Fuck my life, why am I the sensible one?”

Chapter 2: Discovering through adversity that you are in fact a spiteful arsehole.

Chapter 3: When you're well-adjusted and people won't shut up about their issues.

Chapter 4: How to turn grief and aimlessness into an international incident.

Interlude 1: More manga propaganda.

Chapter 5: Relatively normal person discovers sympathy for absolute lunatics.

Chapter 6: Manipulative bastard has meltdown; nukes career and/or starts war.

Chapter 7: Who wouldn't want to be head of state in the middle of all this?

Chapter 8: The world's most violent identity crisis.

Interlude 2: Accidentally featuring no canon characters whatsoever.

Chapter 9: When even your subconscious thinks you're a loser.

Chapter 10: Anger is not a stage, it is a permanent address.

Chapter 11: “Nobody is dying on my watch!” [Actionable threat]

Chapter 12: "Terrorism *is* a valid expression of my trauma, actually."

Interlude 3: Oh look – plot threads.

Chapter 13: Waking up to discover you work for the bad guys and deciding to fix that.

Chapter 14: Keeping going through the hardship, chaos, and narrative contrivance.

Chapter 15: Waking up to discover you work for the bad guys and failing to fix that.

Chapter 16: Ancillary character makes good, still doesn't get the boy.

Interlude 4: No, seriously, I mean it about putting literally everyone in this thing.

Chapter 17: Normal housewife deals well with additional lunatics.

Chapter 18: I swear I only invented this OC for exposition, now she's a key player.

Chapter 19: While valid, terrorism might not make everything better.

Chapter 20: Actual sensible one solves plot with quiet chat.

Epilogue 1: Pain and other assorted feelings.

Epilogue 2: The author reminds you he is, at heart, a total sap.

Epilogue 3: Hey, look, if you hit characters hard enough, they actually develop.

Epilogue 4: Take your victories where you can get them, folks.

Epilogue 5: What *do* you call the literary equivalent of a panning shot?

I just this morning finished Chapter 15 and I thought this was worth noting because it means the fic has officially passed the 100,000 word mark. In case you were wondering why it is taking me so long to complete, that's why. Chapters on this one are averaging 6000 words because SOMEONE made the daft decision to try and make each one a summation of a particular character and their role in the story so far.

We're probably looking at the whole thing coming in around 150,000 words total (bear in mind the interludes and epilogues will all be about half the chapter length). So while I am still hopeful I can finish it by the end of the year, I am increasingly unsure if I will start posting before then on account of editing and such.

My current plan is to spend the rest of this week polishing off Interlude 2 while I let the images for Chapter 16 percolate into an actual scene breakdown. After that chapter's done, I'll be in the home stretch as far as the main plot is concerned.

I must admit to not being especially happy to have slipped so far past my initial deadlines, despite knowing they were only loosely self-imposed to begin with. I really was trying to avoid leaving things on a cliffhanger for so many months. But such is life.

Anyhoo, that's where we are at the moment and hopefully things will continue to progress at the current fairly acceptable rate!

[mirrorvinephotography]

I got scammed for the first time and this was what happened: 😭

On a random weekend as I enjoy scrolling twitter around December 2022, I came across of someone shared this post of beautiful delicate floral rings which are limited edition. And this someone said it was back in stock, so I take a full glance right after I clicked their website. The website, images of products and reviews seems pretty normal, I even read their reviews as well. Seems normal to me....so without thinking further, I just looked for the floral rings instead. (I love the design because it was really beautiful.) If you looked at the photos shown above, it shows real stuff. Yes, like fucking real. 

On the website, they had 4 full sets of rings to choose; Morning Blossom, Diamond Dust, Dainty Daisies and Wildberries. Each sets has 4 rings with different unique peculiar designs. My favourite is the one with snowflake under Diamond Dust Full Set. Because it represents my nickname in my childhood so I choose that one. But here's the thing...I do like other limited editions as well so I was thinking to buy all of it, so I can wear it on any occasions that can match well with my attire. Hence, my first vision is to wear on up-coming CNY 2023 and then Raya 2023 soon...However...Shit just happened:

Still in December 2022...I waited nearly 2 weeks for their updates after I paid my purchases and realise they are no progressions on their side after I viewed my order in the website. Immediately I dropped 2 emails to follow-up my orders and looked forward for their feedback as soon as possible, to ensure that this was probably just late due to international customs process or something. In January 2023, I realised that they yet to reply me a feedback or updates on what's going on on their side.

I looked back at my email and clicked their view orders website to see if everything is ok and seems like it's ok, just that there's no update to post out my orders. WEIRD. I WONDER WHY. No idea if they are still processing their orders. I decided to keep myself busy with errands and work like a normal human being.

In early February 2023, I decided to checked again and until now still no reply. So I started to feel fishy with this online shop. I then without hesitate just give one fucking last chance to see if they will really update. (I was super patience, calm and well-prepared if I am going to be played by this shop. You probably think I'm dumb here...)

And now on 7th February 2023, I was just resting after a badminton game for 1 hour plus, sitting at the corner of my bed on the floor while scrolling through my email to checked on them again. And here it goes.... 😱

And BAM!

I GOT SCAMMED. 

HOLY COW. THIS IS WHAT YOU DID TO ME HUH? VLOR DESIGNS!!!     

No longer able to view my order. 😭😭😭 

And that's how it ended here. Ok...I know if you guys read this you're probably gonna think I'm dumb or something. But yes, we actually had no idea how we are scammed or not aware at all. Scammers are everywhere and they do whatever it takes to get your funds. To be honest, this is my lesson learnt of February 2023 story and it was from an online jewelry shop. After the incident,  I decided to let it go.

Since I lost RM308.00 from this

 SCAMMER VLOR DESIGN (This fake link)

I'm gonna dedicate this post to you, SCAMMER.

 😏YES. LET THE WHOLE WORLD KNOW WHO VLOR DESIGN IS. 

That's all. 

[cryptidfuckery]

Do you plan/write a story in chronological order or just put it down as it comes to you? Trying to figure out how far afield the latter puts me, even if there’s not a “right” way to do it.

hi heres some completely unrequested writing tips sorry for the long post :) i misread the ask before i started writing so. yeah. in short i don't write chronologically, except when I'm writing the beginning?

the first scene i wrote for this is literally the rising climax of the story. i had no idea what I wanted to do with it from there but it just kept evolving until now I'm writing a whole year spanned over 20 chapter fic.

When I started this one (mind you i havent written in like 7 years) I just wrote what came to me, what ideas made me excited. Basically whatever was bringing me joy to write, whatever was fun to expand it into. Purely self indulgent for myself to reread over and over and over, no real plan to post it.

Then I got the brainworm about it and couldn't stop thinking about it and I knocked out over 20k in a month which was. Also due to me being massively depressed and distracting myself.

But in this time I got a sketch book and started planning out a bigger story, something to compliment the original idea and inspiration while also giving a satisfying story between the characters (also figuring out overarching plot, drew out a plot mountain at one point to see where I was lacking, jotting down ideas just to get them down so I could let them simmer in the back of my mind, jotting down phrases or ideas for dialouge, etc) basically just. playing in the space and seeing what ended up feeling most satisfying as a whole story

WOOF OKAY THERES MORE im so sorry you caught me at 1am and im high

Once I got the overall idea of what I wanted to do, I started mapping out chapters, but mostly getting a rough idea of where i wanted things to go in the story. I am being VERY diligent to remember that this is all mutable and nothing is set in stone and its MORE FUN that way

At this point I'm still just writing whats enjoyable and coming to me naturally. Once I started solidifying more of the plot and ideas I started working on some of the parts that just needed to be done re: the very beginning. And i fucking hate the very very beginning right now i cant wait to rewrite it but i am NOT LETTING MYSELF DO THAT.

DO NOT GO BACK AND EDIT SIGNIFIGANTLY. If you catch yourself rereading it and adjusting a few things, fine. But if you find any major inconsistencies either make a mental note or leave a comment or something and then just leave it. It'll be there to fix later. It doesn't matter. Leave a fuckin [insert name of kitchen utensil here] if you don't remember. Who cares. It's your first draft.

OKAY now onto how I've been writing the scenes that don't come as naturally to me

I let the scene simmer for a while in my brain. I entertain different ideas and approaches and jot down anything that feels right. Usually for me I'll get a clear line of dialogue or interaction that feels like a good creative starting point

2. I listen to music when I write bc I have adhd, but im curious to know if this would work for other people too! I have a playlist I curated for the fic that I have listened to. A lot. A lot. Like a Lot. Like most mornings on my way to work. this 1) helps me play in my head with the blorbos and 2) gives me a good emotional basis to bounce ideas off of if I'm stumped on a scene.

I literally just gave my friend @docninj this advice. Pick a song that represents the emotion you're trying to convey in the scene youre trying to write. Could be overall emotion, emotion of the narrator, main character's emotions, whatever. Then play that song on repeat until you don't really hear it anymore. Then try writing. I'll also switch songs if the mood of the scene changes. For me it helps me bounce the emotions I'm trying to write off of something that represents it? god dude idk.

god that was a lot idk why i wrote all of it but hey if it helps someone what the hell.

[vertigoambrosia]

looking at some jujutsu kaisen again

nanami is hilarious; my man fucking hates work just like everyone else

i know spoilers about him but for now we stan one (1) guy who wishes he didn't have to have a job

it's really hard to skip the intro/ending themes on free crunchyroll (at least on the roku app) before the ads come in so i'm lucky the ending theme is really catchy

(i know i could just stream on my computer where i have adblock, but i like being able to watch shit on the tv)

i know about the hidden inventory arc so it's intereting seeing geto here

poor ichiji he's just a little normal guy

noooo leave junpei's mom alone!

that finger had extra crust on it

btw i can't believe in that ending bit gojo basically sent nanamin dickbutt

someone has to have made that edit, right?

what the fuck man! i was not expecting that to happen to junpei

poor guy

...why am i watching curses play popup pirate

nanamiiiiiii

oh no we're getting nanami flashbacks he's done for :(

oh no he's even prettier with the glasses off

i can see why people go feral for him on twitter

YUJIIIIIII

he said FUCK YOUR DOMAIN

uhhh thanks for the meatball recipe i guess?

oh it's tournament time now?

oh jogo has his body again

man i hate mahito so much

those stictches on geto's head are freaking me out; makes me think of lobotomy :(

oh new opening???

i love that nanami and gojo hang out

a robot??????????

man this show's tone is really all over the place

feels weird to have wacky tournament time right after that mahito fight

gojo is loveable but it must be a nightmare actually having to deal with him

new ending is quite skippable i miss the old one

ok now it's tournament time

maybe

ohhh todo is gonna get wrecked, isn't he? (like he deserves)

or wait he thinks he's found his soulmate or something because they both like the same type of girl

seriously what is this

LMAO at the inoki quote

ok for real though why is there a robot

i don't remember the third first year's name and i feel bad about it

tbh i don't remember a lot of student's names rn but it's different since she's a main character (or at least on the same level of character as megumi)

i'm tired of todo honestly

man todo really thinks he and itadori are a Fated Battle i guess

...what's a pepper-kun?

oh what the fuck is this creepy ass mechamaru shit?

omggg baby panda!!!

damn mechamaru probably isn't even that poor guy's real name

i hope...

'humans are creepy' that's such a funny way to put it

eat shit witch girl

oh that nail technique is siiiick

fuck yeah nobara!!

ok but if mai and maki are both rejected by the clan why is mai such a jerk about it?

like obviously mai's life in the clan sucks too, but i'm just not gaining the sympathy for her i feel like i'm suppossed to

ok i didnt' see her not even wanting to be a sorceror coming

maybe i'm being too harsh

another recipe?

ok can the chuunin exams finish already?

i love that this is supposed to be a curse felling contest but everyone's just doing pvp

man the eyes always closed character design really annoys the shit out of me so i'm glad at least kumo has a reason for it

ooo voice guy!

i love miwa and hate the kyoto principal

damn these clans aren't just dysfunctional, they're antiquated sexism dysfunctional

oh mahito's here to end the chuunin exams early

lmaooo wtf the old man's weapon is rock?

these post-episode skits are so weird

i should be asleep but i'm not :)

noo nue :(

and inumaki i guess :(

main boy is back!

hah i guess i'm getting invested enough to not have a lot to say

todo wtf

'imma let u die if you don't hit that move, bestie' (but also give you important advice)

finally after a lot of talking and exposition todo actually starts helping

man i really want to see what his technique is but it is also almost five in the morning and i've watched like six episodes in a row so i guess i'll stop here for now

[mycptsdstory]

Vent post.

I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything right now, extreme dissociation, where I feel out of my body. Been like this all day and I feel extremely scared.

What keeps going around my head is "please don't take away my bf. I love him dearly, please don't take away the one that I love. Please don't take away everything away from me. I'm gonna be homeless, my cats will be taken from me. Please don't take away my bf" over and over and over again.

It's 4:39 am as I'm writing this. I have a therapy session at 11am and I might need more therapy sessions because I'm not doing okay. I'm really not doing okay.

Tbh, ever since I found out my bfs best friend (who lives in Sweden but born in England 🇬🇧) used my bf for content, so she can have her YouTube channel up and running (and yes, he took over so he edited for her and all she needed to do was uploading videos. That's it.), saying horrible shit about me and lying to my face. Her saying "no we are friends" only to find out that we are not... Yeahh, really pissed about that.

You know, it's funny; when people LOVE to cause drama, yet they hate conflict. Funny that, isn't it 🥴

I'm gonna be real, I've always had this deep feeling that she hates me. She told me that we're good friends, but for some odd reason, my gut is telling me otherwise. I found out after 2 years, yup, I was right. She never liked me. Never knew why... I'm guessing because she couldn't have my bf... Yet she's married and hiding her husband. Go figure. Fucking cunt. Oh she has kids, that she said many times on stream "let [username] sort it out". She doesn't even say 'husband' she just uses his username. Like I get it that he doesn't want to be on camera, fucking fine. But like, don't pretend your hiding your fucking husband... She acts like that's her roommate... Wtf. She's so toxic and that in itself is toxic af. Oh and she cheated on her husband for some other guy and I swear, the way she acts 'SiNgEL" wouldn't surprise me that she's openly cheating on him again. Oh and she lets her 4 year old kids go to bed at 1 or 2am in the morning and wonders why her kids act up 🥴 anything happens... Oh [username] has to sort it out. Oh [username] has to deal with it. Like, wtf. Your their fucking mum!! I swear she plays games all day and lets her husband sort out the kids. Wtf. Oh, her husbands family HATES her and thinks she's an unfit mother. She even had the police and social services at her house because her neighbours thought she was an unfit mother. My bf was so oblivious, he didn't see it. Now fair, we are NOT parents... But my intuition was telling me otherwise. She's 38 years old mind you...

My bf is the most caring guy you would ever meet but my god, he's oblivious sometimes. Like she was sending him cute photos, even sfw sexy photos and he's like "that's the photo you should send to your bf" like babe!!! She's attracted to you... Come on!! But he never saw it that way. Like ever, he loves me that much, he never saw it that way. Tbh, I don't even know why. And yes, he's neurodivergent with ADHD so IF it's NOT plain as day, he won't get it. Someone has to tell him straight, like bluntly for him to get the picture and understand the situation. It wouldn't surprise me that's he's undiagnosed autistic. Tbh, it wouldn't explain so fucking much.

I just hope she stays out of our lives. Using my bf, he fucking wasted money on that cunt. All to support her. Ha!! She uses people for her own gain and she's been doing YouTube for about 10 years now and still has 14k subscribers, she wasn't going anywhere, so she went on twitch and gaining popularity because she's pretty. Yet she hides her husband, she acts like she's single, uses my bf for content so he can edit for her. Only to find out, she only uploaded 10 videos out of 70!! She kept promising him money, never received it. He feels hurt because she hurt him.

Like the more I write it down, the more how toxic she really is. She made a new friend that bullied me and I tried to be friends with them both... I even acted all childish like them and then I thought... Nah, fuck this! I'm gonna be myself and her community loved me, but she HATED THAT. tbh, I think it could be jealously too. Remember, jealousy isn't cute. After one night when her community and me played games, they wanted to play games with me. Which I thought was sooo cool! I guess she didn't like it because she hated me after that. Like, wtf. Mate, your jealous. Get the fuck over yourself.

When I thought "she doesn't hate me, it's all in my head" my neck was hot, my body was trembling and I felt like I was having a panic attack. I couldn't eat I felt so sick and during the roughest times of my life, especially with my mother trying to get back into my life. Fucking cunt. I opened up to her about my abuse and she fucking ignored me. Fucking cunt. Like, I thought we were good friends, she told me that we were good friends and she straight up lied to my face. Lied to her community, other than her friend that bullied me. Like, wtf. I'm so done with this shit.

I have zero tolerance for any bitchyness, any gossip and you do it once, I'm done. Bye.

I think this girl has a lot of problems and she's hiding a lot of secrets. I'm gonna ask the only family member i talk too and ask him what does he think about her. He will tell me straight and he's also a witch like me, so no one can fool him. He see's someone's eyes and he can read you.

Btw, since I am a witch. I put a curse on that fucking bitch and I put a protection spell on my bf so he won't get hurt. Her views will tank and all the secrets and lies will be revealed.

I don't normally curse people... But the way she treats her kids, her husband, lying to people and especially hurting my bf... I can't forgive her for it.

[inheroes--wetrust]

ok this is based on first read only so it might get crazy but there is no fucking way that kiriona is gideon. evidence below anyone please feel free to discuss i am FERAL over here

(EDIT: no fucking way that kiriona is *full gideon. i am now fully in camp "kiriona is gideon with some very very key pieces missing like oh i dont know her love and humanity")

1) during the broadcast and in the book, it's made very clear that gideon's body is dead. she's described as waxy like naberius (who we all know is dead as a doornail). if it's gideon's body and gideon's soul, they should snap back together no issues. palamedes seems to think that just bringing nona close to gideon's body would draw her soul out and gideon would be whole again, and palamedes is the smartest necromancer of his generation (love you bb). there's a soul piloting a body here. they aren't cohesive.

2) tamsyn said in a recent interview (https://books.tumblr.com/post/693388542787846144/writer-spotlight-tamsyn-muir-tamsyn-muir-probably) there is a pecking order to POV characters. paraphrasing here, but she said that if possible, gideon is first and foremost the POV character. we obviously see this in HtN - gideon is narrating the mithraeum chapters of the book, and as soon as she comes to the surface, she is the POV character. when they first came into contact with gideon's walking and talking corpse, i half expected POV to switch to gideon, but we never got that.

3) a fucking FRIENDSHIP BRACELET? with IANTHE???? hell fucking no. what in the world. why would they even put that there? it makes absolutely zero sense, there's no point to it other than for nona to point out they're working together. chekhov's friendship bracelet. maybe ianthe is controlling gideon's corpse somehow? i have no idea it's four in the morning.

4) the way she interacts with everyone but especially the sixth house. you expect me to believe that gideon nav sees a dying cam for the first time since her sacrifice and is just like oh hey cam looks like you're dying soon? absolutely not. the sex pal thing was also aggressive. very "hey palamedes remember that thing we did together who else would know i called you sex pal once". iirc, she never actually called him that - she was just pointing out a fun gideon fact.

5) she doesn't care about harrow. gideon cares EXCLUSIVELY about harrow. gideon "it was not my thumb to let them bite off" sees alecto piloting harrow's body and just says sure i'm going to let that happen? not in ten thousand years.

this obviously leaves a million questions starting with 1) who is kiriona and 2) WHERE IS GIDEON but these are 100% two different souls. tamsyn i need alecto now please and thank you.

EDIT: More evidence on the second reread.

6) when cam and nona-as-harrow go to see ianthe, ianthe says, "How are you surviving, Harrowhark the First? How can you stand beneath the light of Number Seven? Unless I am addressing..." and then nona screams, there's a general panic, and ianthe is like FINE OKAY FUCKING RELAX and tells nona she's coming back to the emperor with her. lyctors can survive an RB when their cavs are at the forefront. harrow's cav is gideon. and pre-NtN, harrow had a lobotomy that caused her to have a breakdown at the sound of gideon's name. what else would she have been saying other than "Unless I am addressing Gideon Nav", which should make no sense considering ianthe knows full well that kiriona exists. unless of course kiriona is not gideon or at least not gideon all the way.

7) https://www.tor.com/2022/09/13/tamsyn-muir-on-lyctorhood-as-genderfuckery-and-greasy-bible-study-in-nona-the-ninth/ new interview by tamsyn for the nona release. the last question strongly hints that gideon's body and gideon's soul - or at least not all of it - are not in the same place, and at least some of it is still with harrow.

8) pyrrha says john shouldn't have been able to pull gideon's soul all the way back to put her back in her body. she explicitly says that harrow still has a piece of gideon and john could not have gotten it back, AND that john should have been able to do better. he resurrects. that's LITERALLY his thing. he should have been able to bring gideon back perfectly, but he didn't. why?

9) get in line, thou big slut. on first glance, this is gideon nav to a t. i love her so much. however. i find it SUPER interesting that slut, which has (to my knowledge) never been used in the previous two books, is used twice in NtN both by ianthe - once about the original lyctors, once about corona. idk what it was about it, but the use of it three times in the book, when previous insults have been along the lines of "you mutant, you mistake, you great big calf-eyed fuck-up" just struck me a little. iffy. this one is definitely more out there but the use of slut in the book just stood out to me for some reason (a sentence you can only type when talking about the locked tomb).

upon further review i have decided that kiriona and gideon are definitely not 100% the same soul, but kiriona could have a piece of gideon's soul, because a lot of the ninth house stuff is very gideon, especially with crux. i still want alecto now.

[junghelioseok]

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you’re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

[music-as-a-haunting]

ok i KNOW the ask game said specify a character but i think all ur pronoun/sexuality takes on all the mash guys would be very cool :3

M*x im fucking love you thank you for the precious gift youve given me…

ALRIGHT M*A*S*H BOYS NIGHT PRIDE EDITION

Hawkeye- is malewife a gender nah but weirdly enough i think Hawk is a he/him but in a “Harry Styles wearing a skirt and nail polish in 2018 while everyone on the internet collectively lost their shit” way. He is, as if I even had to say it, a disaster bisexual.

Trapper- all around red blooded american man, he/him, not exactly disaster bisexual but bisexual with a sunglasses emoji infusion 😎. he WOULD find it funny/endearing if you used she/her pronouns like yes I am that bitch hello how may I help you.

B.J. HUNNICUT IS THE WHOLE FRUIT SALAD. Idk this is just my hc but I feel like he is definitely in a lavender marriage with Peg like they definitely are best friends and they do love eachother but holy fuck Bea Jay Hunnicut is a funny little mlm he/they I want to see him in pain

Frank Burns- he fucking sucks i dislike talking about him but I really wish they fleshed out the “secret repressed homosexual that hates himself” idea so yeah he/him passably straight on the outside little fruit tart on the inside

Charles Emerson Winchester III- Secret Repressed Homosexual that Hates Himself Prime. I am a gay Charles purist and I can and absolutely will die on this hill. who the fuck is Donna He/Him and sometimes the royal “we” just cause hes my special little guy and he can.

Henry Blake- his pronouns are they/them! actually though? I feel like Henry could pretty solidly slot into the non-binary identity. Is this based on fact? No! Its based entirely on vibes (which is arguably more accurate) unrelated but they would also wear the “Women want me fish fear me” hat without a trace of irony

Sherman Potter- now THERE is a trans man who wouldve fuckin thrown down at stonewall. he/him StraightGuy tm who just loves his wife and his horses Very Much. arent there a lot of stories of AFAB ppl dressing as men to join the army? also i hc all of his buds in Old Soldiers to be trans guys too.

Radar- whats that post that goes like “I think Radar is autistic with massive amounts of t boy swag” its really funny but I would like to tweak the narrative n this one. I think Radars mom has the type of rural homegrown wisdom where she thinks the severity of her morning sickness would determine the babies gender so she assumed Radar would be a girl so everyone got her little dresses and painted the Radars room pink but after Radar was born she just. raised her as a girl anyway? you cant exactly scrap a 1-10 year female wardrobe and buy new in Ottumwa so out of convenience he was raised as a girl but recognized as a boy. so i feel by the time he gets drafted in korea and has spent plenty of time performing as both genders he really doesnt care anymore and only prefers mens clothing because he personally finds it more comfortable. i think he would accept he/she/they pronouns and be demisexual.

Klinger- said you were a lesbian girl me too I really dont know how to explain is but Klinger is both a straight man and a lesbian at the same time. definitely he/they/she and demisexual like Radar… i feel like Klinger is your dads older sibling and Radar is your moms younger sibling. same vibes for sure but different auras.

Father Mulchahy- ive been waiting for this one (and another thank you to M*x for letting me on my soapbox) FATHER! MULCHAHY! IS! NOT! ASEXUAL! HE! TOOK! A VOW! OF! CHASTITY! TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS! Please dont feel like im coming for your neck specifically if this is your hc its totally valid to want ace representation and it would only feel natural to assign it to the character who doesnt have any relationships as a part of their backstory or characterization but I feel like only assigning Mulchahy with this role is not only some pretty upsetting ace tokenism but harmful to the sanctity of his faith and vows he took on as a priest. That being said! I think Mulchahy is bisexual (and would probably think Jesus was too) and I think you could address him with he/they pronouns but has a slight preference towards he.

Sidney Freedman- It seems like almost everyone in my post has come down with a case of the bisexual he/theys 🤒 but yeah besides Hawkeye I think Sidney would be the vocal about his identity? He could run circles around homophobes and transphobes who try to claim gay/transness to be a disease and I think his wife probably knows and supports his identity although they remain monogamous (Sidney is NOT a cheater >:( )

Thanks so much for the ask!! I hope I answered thouroughly enough and if I forgot anyone please let me know so I can hit myself really hard with a cast iron pan

[shirophantomvox]

Analyzing Killua Zoldyck's Character

Illumi Analysis| Hisoka Analysis| Chrollo Anaysis|

What’s up y’all?! I’ve had at least 2 cups of coffee this morning and I am ready to write my butt off! This post will be about Killua Zoldyck, my second favorite character and you will know why by the end. If you’d like me to write about your favorite character, Be sure to send me a message and I will get on it ASAP.

Here we go!

I saw Killua for the first time on Tumblr. Someone created various icons for several anime characters and edited them. They were all aesthetically pleasing but for some reason, his picture stood out. Now that I look harder, it is because he was holding a Pepsi can instead of the off-brand one they drew for him in the cartoon. I noticed everyone on TikTok and Twitter had the very same icon as their profile picture (usually those that like to troll and say racist things to others). Once I started watching Hunter x Hunter, I realized the character immediately. Thank you for your edits!

Killua Zoldyck is the youngest child in the family and is the only child that developed a mind for his own.

Instead of taking the pleasure of killing, he runs/avoids and achieves this by becoming friends with Gon. It’s interesting to think that no one in the Zoldyck family wants to kill for fun except for Illumi.

I remember Zeno telling Chrollo: “Do you think I enjoy killing?”.

This makes me think that the family’s job is to destroy enemies that are a threat to society. Are the Zoldyck’s taking on the role of cops or an extension of such? If that statement is true why does Illumi take pleasure in abusing his power when his own grandfather only does it when criminals are involved? Granted, Silva and Zeno’s reasoning for brutally fighting criminals isn’t legal, and (to me) are considered to be vigilantes, at least they don’t go around doing the horrible things like how Illumi and Hisoka do.

This very reason why Killua ran away from home. He decided to rebel against his mother and implied: “Fuck you. I’m going to do what I want.” Killua and his siblings are victims of child abuse and show that they deal with that abuse in different ways. Killua masks his abilities in public and tries to keep them under control, Kalluto seems to be very quiet and obedient, Milluki is just as abusive as Illumi, and we already know about Illumi. Milluki is physically abusive; this can be seen when he is whipping Killua for running away and threatens to destroy Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio while Illumi plays mind games on Killua and uses his Nen to do the trick.

Killua’s character is very special and in a way takes the lead as the main character instead of Gon. I don’t know if that was intentional or not. Killua is a 12-year-old boy who leaves home to escape his abusive home and see the world for his own. During phase 1 of Hunter’s Exam, he instantly clicks with Gon; probably because he’s the only 12-year-old there. They constantly challenge each other to see who will win and who will buy dinner or some other reward. Because of his abusive home, Killua often masks his feelings. This is noticeable every time Gon talks about him being his best friend and he always reacts as if he’s embarrassed by it.

Gon is his shield from going bat-shit crazy like his family. They both have faced opponents (like Hisoka and others) where Killua could have unleashed his assassin abilities but didn’t. Yes, some of the opponents are stronger than him, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Killua is the best friend Gon could ever have. Since he knows about aura and any supernatural abilities, this is why he stops Gon and even insults him for pushing himself too far. Killua stopped Gon from using too much aura in the past especially once Kite’s arm was cut off by Pitou. Because Killua wasn’t there to stop him when fighting Pitou, this resulted in Gon’s downfall. Did Killua believe it was his fault that Gon almost died? He isn’t responsible for Gon’s actions but he focused so much on running away from his “demons” and masking his temper by maintaining his friendship that he wasn’t paying attention to Gon’s noticeable and developing temper.

Killua Zoldyck is a child that suffered from abuse and to escape that reality, he runs away, takes Hunter’s Exam only to match with his brother, chooses defeat, and then kills an opponent, not of his own free will.

But wait, there’s more.

After being rescued from his prison of a home, he goes to Heaven’s Arena, met Zushi and his teacher, develop Nen, follows the Phantom Troupe around and somehow managed to survive that, meet Bisky, join a game to get closer to Ging, witnesses Gon disappearing, trying to form a relationship with Alluka, and then tries to heal Gon with a quickness.

Whew, chile!

At the beginning of the show, it appeared as if Killua was taking on too much and only did so to keep his mind off what he escaped from.

One thing to point out is Killua’s motivation to heal Gon no matter what. It is implied that he doesn’t care what will happen to him or anyone else as long as Gon can live again.

Wait.

Isn’t that along the lines of what Gon said about getting revenge for Kite? He didn’t care about what happened to him? Hmmmm. I guess they’re very similar after all!

Killua and Gon are BFFs and will do anything for each other. Friendships in real life should be this way; let’s follow his fictional example.

Face

Killua’s face is the typical shape for someone his age. His eyes are wide, as blue as the morning sky, and honestly, I wish he’d smile more. Even though he is 12 years old, he still has a babyface.

Hair

Killua’s hair color is very similar to Princess Allura’s and Lotor’s. According to verywellmind.com, the color white represents innocence and purity. Ironically, Lotor and Killua are the opposite of that while Allura has maintained her innocence. Killua’s unique hair color and hairstyle are amazing! I love how it stays in shape while he is fighting or running.

Clothes

Regarding clothes, he is JUST like his brother. Again, Illumi irks me, but they both have a great taste in fashion. Through the show, Killua changes his clothes more than Gon, which is funny. I guess if Gon changed his clothes too much it would take away from his character. Killua’s default style contains a sleeveless white shirt with a purple one underneath, basketball shorts, and gym shoes. Just look at these outfit changes! This is why Killua is my 2nd favorite character in this show.

Behavior

As stated before, Killua cares more about others. This is ironic because the Zoldyck family only cares about themselves or their family while Killua feels the complete opposite. It’s almost as if he trusts strangers more than his own family. A common phrase: “She/He turned to the streets” that I’ve heard in my hometown can be applied here. Killua probably hates his family and turned to strangers to find love and comfort since they neglected that. He is also the only one that tries to develop a relationship with Alluka. At first, I thought “Wow he’s only developing a relationship with her to heal Gon” but then I realized it was bigger than that. Alluka has been separated from her family because of her dangerous abilities. She will demand something and if that person doesn’t fulfill her demands, they will suffer horribly. Killua learns that Alluka has a healing ability and while Illumi complains that Killua was hiding rules from him, he never took the chance to talk to him about it and continued to threaten Alluka. The family “banished” her to a confined room for who knows how long because, apparently, she had been possessed by a demon from the Dark Continent and they do not know when it happened. Despite knowing that Killua could parish with the rest, he still develops a relationship with her. He is the true example of excepting someone for who they are. As far as I’m concerned, running away was the best decision he made. It saved his life and in return, he’s going to save another. I do find it ironic that something considered to be so dark has the power to bring something back to life when usually it’s something bright like a light...interesting. You all know what I’m saying. Most television shows only portray angles to heal others while demons only seek to destroy. The Zoldyck family is wrong for pushing Alluka away. How could you do that to your own kid? Shit, you should be blaming yourself for not watching her and allowing the demon to posses her.

In conclusion, Killua is my second favorite character. He is bold, loves his friends, and isn’t afraid (anymore) to step up to people he may not win against. His character has blossomed from a young boy afraid to step up to his brother to a boy who isn’t afraid to do so. He has learned about Nen and has gone through many trials and tribulations just to say he is much stronger than before. What characters would you like to hear about next? Send me a DM!

Fin.

[tonystarksfavoritedaughter]

Crazy Rich Avengers

Chapter 1:

Summary: You and Peter have been dating for a little over 6 months and have not yet met the Avengers. You were getting curious as to when you would meet them, until you get an invitation from Tony Stark himself, inviting you and Peter to Wanda and Vision’s wedding in Hawaii over Spring Break. You thought that it would be nice to go and finally meet everyone, but what will you think after you’ve been tested by the team?

*Based on the movie Crazy Rich Asians, each chapter will be a different scene from the movie. There will be 15 chapters. Also includes a GIF from the movie scene at the beginning of each chapter.

A/N: I’ve had this series planned for a little while now, and I just got this chapter done and edited and I feel really good about it. I didn’t know if anyone would want to read this until I posted about it yesterday and got some really good feedback, so thank you all who liked it and asked to be on the taglist so much! This chapter is the first scene of the movie, just some things are switched up to fit Peter and the Avengers. Just note that this one is kind of short and nothing much really happens in this chapter since it is just the beginning, but hopefully the next one is a bit juicer. 

Warnings: swearing and fluff 

Word count: 2166

Chapter 1

“Okay class, make sure to email me those presentations by Monday. I don’t want to keep reminding you guys over Spring Break because I’ve still got a life outside being a professor.” The whole class laughs at your professor’s bluntness. It kind of reminds you of your friend from high school, who would always spoke her truth, even when no one asked for it. You packed your things and waited for a clear space to exit your row. Who knew so many kids would be in a business class? Not you apparently. You were a culinary student at the Institute of Culinary Education or ICE for short. Your dream was to become a baker and own your bakery, hence the business class. This was your last class of the day, and you couldn’t wait to see your boyfriend. You two had been dating for a little over six months and it was the best six months you could ever ask for.

You exited out of the classroom, finally, and made your way towards the elevator. On the way down, you looked through your messages and saw that you had five new texts from Peter.

Peter: Hey babe! I’m out of my photography class now. (1:15)

Peter: Waiting by the couches (1:15)

Peter: I miss you (1:17)

Peter: I’m hungry. Let’s go to that pizza place for lunch. I really want some of their cannoli’s (1:20)

Peter: Y/NNN!!! WHERE ARE YOU??? (1:23)

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you walked over to Peter, who sprang out of his seat and practically ran over to you. He hugged with the force of what you assumed felt like ten tons just based on how tight he held you. You laughed at his clinginess and pushed him off of you.

“Dude my class ran like ten minutes late. What’s the matter with you?” you laugh.

He held your hand in his own and smiles at you. “Just missed you is all. Did you see my text about the cannoli’s?”

“Yeah I saw it.”

“And?” he asks hopefully.

“Aaaaaand what?” you played dumb just to see his cute pouty face.

“Can we get cannoli’s?”

“Yes, we can get a cannoli.”

“Ah! You’re the best! Cannoli’s!” he yells at an insane volume for someone who’s just walking down the street. This earns you both a weird look from the people on the sidewalk. You were about to kiss his cheek until he just took off down the street with your hand still in his. You guessed you never knew he liked cannoli’s so much. Maybe you should try out a recipe and make him some one day.

You get into the pizza restaurant and sit down across from each other and waited for the waiter to take your order. You order your drinks; Peter gets Diet Pepsi and you get a Sprite. Both of you talk about how your classes went and held each other’s hand while you talked.

“So, I’ve got to do this project for my class,” Peter began, “And my camera is at the Compound, so tomorrow I’ll be a little late getting home.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Oh! Speaking of which,” you slam your palms on the table, which makes Peter jump a little. “When am I going to meet them? I mean we’ve been dating for going on seven months now, and I still haven’t met them. And I know they know about me because I got a message from Nat telling me happy birthday two weeks ago.” You raise an eyebrow at him waiting for his answer.

“Speaking of said topic, that reminds me. We got invited to Wanda and Vision’s wedding. And it is next Friday in Hawaii, which is perfect because a) we don’t have classes because it’s Spring Break, and b) I know Hawaii is one of your bucket list places.”

Your jawed dropped for several reasons. One, it’s Wanda and Vision’s fucking wedding! You never met them, but from the way Peter talked about them, you could tell they were meant to be. You always thought that they were like what you and Peter had times one hundred.

“Are you serious? They’re having their wedding in Hawaii?”

“Yeah. They thought that since Mr. Stark – “

“What can I get you two today?” the waiter asked breathless. You didn’t even realize how busy they were.

You looked up at him, “I’ll have a slice of the cheese pizza please?”

“And I’ll have two slices of the meat lovers. And can I get three of your best cannoli’s please?” Peter smiled at the waiter as he wrote down your order.

“Alright that’ll be right out.” He walked away almost jogging to get your order in. Goodness they were slammed.

“As I was saying,” Peter continued. “Mr. Stark has one of those beach houses in Maui and so, they thought that it would be the perfect place for them to tie the knot.”

“Wow, so, we’re invited? Like we’re going to Maui and attending the wedding? And meeting everyone?” you asked now slightly worried.

“Yeah,” he drags out confused. “That’s what kind of what ‘You’re Invited’ means.”

“I know, it’s just…this will be the first time I’m meeting them and I always imagined it would be at a like Sunday dinner type of thing. Not a fucking Avengers wedding!”

“It’s okay, I know they’re gonna love you no matter what.”

You take a sip of your drink, “This is also works out for another reason because MJ has been asking us to come see her ever since she moved to Kahului.”

“All the more reason to go.”

You both get your food and Peter immediately starts on the cannoli’s that he’s been longing to eat and practically moans at the taste of them. You get the check and pay and tipped extra for your waiter, because they need to be paid way more than minimum wage. The two of you walk out and head home so you can spend the rest of the night together.

“So, when do we leave for Maui?” you ask, swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you.

“Umm, I believe on Saturday.”

Today was Thursday so that means that you only had tonight and tomorrow to pack for a whole entire week. “Shit! I have almost no clothes washed, are you kidding me?” you yell. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I just found out this morning!” he yelled back.

“Okay, well it’s a good thing tomorrow I don’t have classes because now I have to do laundry all damn day.” You reach your shared apartment and go to change clothes and you go straight to the laundry room, faster than Peter could imagine. All of your good, cute clothes had to be air dried and so that’s what you did first. After half hour of folding, and drying, and hanging up clothes non-stop, Peter came in wrapped his arms around you.

“Baby, you’ve been here for forever, come sit down with me,” he pleaded.

“I will once I have all the clothes done, but until then,” you pat his cheek. “I can’t.”

He sighs an ‘okay’ and plants a kiss on your cheek and walks away. About twenty minutes later you had gotten all the laundry done and went to join Peter on the couch. He was watching reruns of Brooklyn 99 which was one of your favorite shows. He put his arms out and made grabby hands and you leaned into his touch. You laid your head on his chest with the rest of your body sprawled out on the couch. He put his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. You looked up and kissed his lips and sat up just a bit straighter. One of his hands went to the back of your neck and the other rubbed your thigh, and you relaxed even more into him. Your right hand carded through his hair and the other sat splayed on his peck, slightly gripping his shirt. You two stayed like this for what felt like hours, just basking in each other’s comfort. You pulled back to breathe and gave him one last kiss before going back to your original position, laying on him.

“What do you wanna watch?” He yawned.

“Well since your yawning and –“ you yawned this time. “And so am I, let’s just take a nap.”

He hummed in agreement and led you to your shared bedroom and he changed into just a pair of sweatpants. You laid down and he did shortly after. You turned, facing him as your chests were touching. You stared at him for quite a long time before you even realized that you were. His face scrunched up that was so cute you wanted to take a picture.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look cute,” you said back.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Nope. I do,” he challenged.

“That’s impossible because I love you to Jupiter and back,” you kissed his nose, ultimately shutting it down because you were tired. School had kicked your ass this week and you hadn’t really had anytime to just lay with Peter. You scooted down a bit so, you could lay your head on his chest, your legs intertwined, as he held you against him so tight that nothing could slip in between you two.

The next morning you had woken up extra early to make some French toast for you and Peter. You got out the bread and butter and the rest of the ingredients and started cooking. Since you were the one who was in the culinary department, the silent agreement between you and Peter was that you would cook, and he would clean your mess. You tried to not make too much of a mess, because you weren’t that mean. After a couple more minutes you got breakfast done and at that exact moment you put the toast on the plate, Peter comes waddling out with his hair a mess. It was almost like it was scripted like a scene in a movie.

“I smelled French Toast,” he smiled.

“Mhm, I thought that I would be nice and cook breakfast for you this time.” You pecked his cheek and gave him the syrup.

“Eat up and get ready for a long day of packing suitcases, babe,” you winked at him.

“Oh boy.” You didn’t hear his sarcasm often, but when you did it always made you chuckle.

He went over to the couch and you followed setting up the coffee table and turning on Spongebob to watch as you ate. You turned towards him and smiled and received a kiss on the nose. Today was going to be a good day, you thought.

It was now four thirty in the evening and you and Peter were packing up all your belongings into your suitcases. “Okay so you need your swim trunks, flip flops, sunglasses, and what else?” You ask.

“Is that just for swimming?” You nodded. “Then yeah I think that’s it.” You went over to his drawer grabbing his trunks out along with your swimsuit. You had all your clothes spread out into separate piles consisting of swimwear, pajamas, nice shirts, casual shirts, and wedding attire. Peter grabbed all of his clothes and stuffed them into his suitcase and you did the same. After that you went to the bathroom to grab all extra stuff that consisted of teeth and hair products, and everything in that category. Peter went into the kitchen to the medicine and started to pack anything that might be needed for allergy’s and whatnot. You figured you would pack your purse of carry on items before you left tomorrow morning.

After two hours of packing and double checking, and once the bed was cleared, you flopped down face first and groaned. “I’m so exhausted,” you huffed.

“Aww, is my baby tired?” He asked this as he pressed feather-light kisses to your neck that always made you shudder.

“Yes,” you say as you awaited a kiss on the lips. He happily kisses you, slow and lovingly, and you feel like you could stay there for eternity. He pulls away for minute to catch his breath. “We should probably figure out what we want to do for dinner.”

“How ‘bout leftovers? There’s still some enchiladas or lemon pepper chicken in the fridge.”

“Ooooh, let’s do chicken.”

You get up from the bed to heat the chicken up in the oven. “Imma make some garlic cheesy rice too!” You shout from the kitchen.

“Sounds good, baby.”

You two make your dinner and eat in a comfortable silence, watching TV. You both decided to watch one more episode of Parks and Rec before calling it a night, and Peter figured it would be smart to go to bed early since you would both have a long day of checking flights and meeting the Avengers tomorrow; and that was tiring by itself.

Tag-List: @randomstufflol29​ @spideyspeaches​ @binnotjin​

[write-ur-wrongs]

Of Monsters and Men (pt. 1)

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier travel to a small seaside village after being hired to take care of a monster that has been terrorizing the villagers for months. However when they arrive, Geralt finds that the monster in question isn’t so easy to kill. 

A/N: This was getting to be quite lengthy, so I decided to split it into parts. This is the story I wanted to write when I first started watching the Witcher on Netflix and I am nervous and excited to finally be sharing it here!! Like with all my fics, I try to keep my Y/N has physically non-descript as possible, she/her and vibe are the only descriptors. I’ve also not proof-read but will edit errors as I see them post post lol. I hope y’all enjoy this!! Your feedback is always welcome :’)

this is approx. 2200 words and is largely setting the scene. I expect this to story to be told in no more than 3 parts. 

                              _________________________

When Geralt and Jaskier rode up to the quiet coastal village, they were struck by how calm and peaceful it was. The sound of waves lapping against the rocky shoreline, the rhythmic bumping of boats against the docks, and the soft clatter of driftwood windchimes melted together to create an atmosphere that soothed Jaskier to his core. He found himself gaping at the sights that surrounded him in wonder; truly taken by the way setting sun cast a golden glow on everything and painted the cloud-laced sky in rich hues of pink and orange.

“This place…” he sighed theatrically, waving his arms around, “is wonderful! Geralt are you not moved by the sight of it all? Does your soul not sing out! Oh, Geralt! Wow!”  

The witcher only rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. Jaskier was always so blown away by the simplest things and it both amused and annoyed Geralt. Yes, the sky and the sea were beautiful sights, but more importantly, they were merciless vehicles of danger, death, and destruction; and Geralt knew better than to romanticize things that were, at their core, dangerous.

Sensing the bard’s eyes on him, Geralt gave him a hum of acknowledgement hoping it would be enough to satisfy Jaskier’s need for collective appreciation. It was, as he dreaded, insufficient.

“Come now, Geralt!” he enthused, “take that stick out your arse for a moment and appreciate the sights and sounds of this charming inlet! Listen to the sea! The chimes, Geralt! Listen to how the wind tickles the –”

“For fucks sake, Jaskier! It’s a fucking port city just like any other. This place is one bad storm away from being wiped out by that scenic sea of yours!”

“Yeesh,” Jaskier said letting out a low whistle. “Was it the stick in the arse bit? Too far?”

“Jask-”

“- because look, you are very stoic but – and I mean this as a compliment Geralt, so don’t get your leather in a –”

“Jaskier!” Geralt interrupted gruffly as he dismounted Roach with a huff. “Will you please shut up! Let’s just find the stables and the inn and get this over with.” Without waiting for Jaskier to catch up to him, he led his mare deeper into town.

Jaskier, refusing to let Geralt’s gruff exterior get him down, dismounted gracefully and lightly jogged to meet up with him, his lute clacking loudly against his back as he ran.

“Remind me again what dreadful little creature brings us out to this enchanting harbor?” he asked, still jogging a little to keep up with the witcher’s long strides.

“Don’t know yet.”

“Oh, ho-ho! A mystery? Always makes for a good song. What do we know so far?”

Geralt stopped and turned slightly towards the bard before speaking.

“Apparently a creature has been killing and dismembering men in town. They are being killed at all hours, bodies found in town, at sea, or out in the surrounding forests. Seems nowhere is safe.” Geralt let his cat-like eyes linger on the bard’s horrified expression for a moment before turning back and keeping on the path into town, shaking his head at Jaskier’s queasiness.

“Yeesh – Geralt! You’re not serious! Why would you bring me with you!?” Jaskier picked up the pace, suddenly wanting to be closer to his friend.

“You invited yourself,” Geralt said, trying to contain his smile, “as always.”

“Of course, I invited myself! You’re far to proud to admit you’d miss me.” Jaskier retorted. “Let’s get these horses to the stables, get rooms, and find food so that you can sort this out as quickly as inhumanly possible,” he said, speaking quickly and with a light waver, trying to pretend the quaint seaside village around him didn’t now leave him chilled to the bone.

“Hmm,” Geralt chuckled, happy to have managed to scare the bard into silence, at least for the time being.

The local pub was busier than Jaskier had expected when they rode into town. Seems the reason the village was so peaceful upon arrival was because everyone had already made their way to the bar. Fortunately, he’d managed to nab them a table by the stone fireplace; after a day of riding alongside the sea, Jaskier was desperate for a cold ale and a warm fire.

“Alrighty then, Geralt,” Jaskier said, holding his hands up to the hearth, “what have we got so far?”

“Not much,” he replied, tearing apart the loaf of bread a barmaid had brought over moments prior, “a couple people stopped me at the inn to ask me if I was here to kill the beast, but they didn’t have any information to offer besides the fact that it was a constant threat.”

“Well, maybe you’ll have more luck here – I mean look around, you’d think the whole town’s come to drink!”

“Port cities, Jask,” Geralt said, letting his gaze scan the room slowly, “the people here either spend their days at the mercy of the sea or waiting for their loved ones to come home. You drink for sorrow and for hope of a bright tomorrow.”

“That was poetic as fuck, Geralt! My influence?” he teased, shooting the witcher a cheeky grin, who merely grunted distractedly in reply.

Now ignoring his still-talking friend, Geralt’s eyes had landed on the two women working behind the bar. One was talking excitedly and kept casting quick glances toward the bard, blushing brightly when she caught his eye, while the other was watching Geralt with inquisitive eyes.

“… I tell you Geralt the more you allow yourself to – oh! Speaking of which, here come a few now!” Jaskier flourished, winking enthusiastically at the blushing barmaid who was making her way towards them sheepishly.

Geralt sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes, already tired of the flirting he was about to witness. To his surprise and great pleasure, Jaskier got up and met her halfway, leaving him in peace with his thoughts.

Having brought his attention back down to the bread before him, Geralt didn’t notice that he had company until she was right in front of him. Sensing her presence, he shot his gaze up quickly, and found her staring at his wolf medallion with a quirked brow.

“Forgive me,” she started, her deep, velvet-like voice washing over Geralt like morning sun after a cold night, “but you’re… a witcher?”

“I am,” he replied, giving her a crooked smile, his own voice, low and gravely and smooth, not going unnoticed by the woman before him. “Geralt, of Rivia.”

“Oh fuck,” she said, with a breathy sort of laugh, “so you’re not a witcher, you’re the Witcher then, aren’t you?”

Geralt let out a low and modest grunt, shaking his head at the comment. He thought himself immune to the scrutiny and awe that came with being the White Wolf, having carried the title for so long, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that left him shy.

“I’m,” he faltered needing to stop to clear his throat, having made the mistake to look her in the eyes, “just a witcher. Really.”

“Well, they don’t send you out for just anything, do they? For you to be out here in our little hamlet…” she squinted at him with a small tilt of her head, “we must be under some kind of threat. Should I be worried?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me, –” he stopped, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Y/N,” she replied quickly, offering Geralt a warm smile despite the fact that she’d just crossed her arms, “and I mean we do get the odd ruffian coming through town. They always make a mess of things, don’t they? Beyond that, well, I suppose alcohol does breed violence in some,” she gave a light, one shouldered shrug, “but that’s not the kind of crime that would reach your ears.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully, taking his time to consider Y/N’s words. She seemed almost too friendly, and there was something about her that both drew him in and had him putting up his guard.

“A monster has been picking the men of the village off one by one.” Leaning back into his chair to put some distance between them. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t be aware, considering,” he nodded towards the bar, “your job here.”

“Meaning what?” she retorted, wearing a playful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Only that you must hear a lot,” he gestured vaguely to the crowd surrounding them, “and see a lot, doing what you do. I would have expected that the disappearance and dismemberment of men in town would be something of note.”

“Well,” Y’N tsked, “I’m sorry to say that you’ve been brought out here on something of a fool’s errand. There’s no monster here; the tale of disappearing men has been told here for months. It started with a woman, too embarrassed to admit that the man who impregnated her left her overnight, telling everyone that a creature from the forest killed him. From there the story grew wilder with every retelling.”

“Hm,” Geralt hummed, watching Y/N carefully with narrow eyes, “I was told dismembered body parts were turning up, consistently, after each disappearance, and that they were being identified as belonging to the latest victim. Besides, I was hired to come here. Why would someone pay me coin to rid a town of ghost?”

“People struck by tragedy will claim to see many things, Sir Geralt,” she replied softly, “not all of them will be true. A dead fish floating at sea, a creature mauled by wolves by the roads, rotten meats abandoned by vendors…” she shrugged, “the mind will twist the truth in order to bring comfort. Who hired you?” 

She added that last question quickly, and Geralt could tell it was calculated. Sensing this, he only replied with a quirked brow and a tilt of his head. 

Y/N betrayed no sense of frustration when she realized the Witcher wasn’t going to elaborate. Instead, her eyes softened, and she smiled at Geralt with what he perceived as pity. 

“Look, the truth is that there is no monster here. Isn’t that right Thalia?”

“Sorry, what?” Thalia, who had just walked back over the Geralt’s table with a tray of ales in her hands, was breathlessly giggling at something Jaskier had whispered in her ear. As she and Jaskier placed four ales on the table, Y/N took a seat across from the Witcher and quickly explained got the two up to speed.

“Oh goodness, that! I can not believe our town’s little lore made it to your ears, Sir Geralt!” She said with wide eyes as she snuggled up next to Jaskier, clinking her tankard with his before taking a generous sip.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaskier coughed on his ale, “you’re telling me there’s no monster here? That we might actually be able to enjoy a little rest and relaxation here without any horrible monster-killing business? Geralt this is good news!” he exclaimed, smacking his free hand on the table for emphasis.

Geralt only growled out a hum in response, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

“I’ll admit,” Thalia continued, seemingly unaware of the tension between the Witcher and her friend, “it’s scary to think about – you know, murder – but when you actually think about who disappears, it’s not difficult to see the truth.”

At this, Geralt turned his fierce gaze away from Y/N. “What do you mean, ‘who disappears’?”

“O-only that the men who leave aren’t really the type that anyone would miss.” She replied, stuttering a little against her best efforts to not recoil at Geralt’s inhuman eye-contact. “They were mean, violent types. The kind of man that would get crueler the more he drank. Just, awful, evil men, right Y/N?”

Y/N nodded quickly in agreement, taking a slow sip of her ale. “Good riddance.”

“Exactly!” Thalia agreed, clinking her glass to Y/N’s.

“Hell, I’ll drink to that,” Jaskier laughed, before picking his lute up off the floor. “What do you say ladies, a song?”

Thalia cheered loudly and encouraged the rest of the patrons to listen to the bard, letting them all know that he was in fact, the one who traveled with the great White Wolf. Jaskier was positively floating from the adoration as he danced around the pub, pulling cheers and applause after every song.

All the while, Geralt never took his eyes off of Y/N, who had retreated back to the bar after finishing her drink.

Geralt wasn’t sure what to believe. He had a strange feeling about this place from the moment he and the bard arrived, and it frustrated him to no end that even after hours in town, he was no closer to understanding the source of his discomfort. One thing was for certain, something about the story he heard here tonight did not add up, and he definitely didn’t trust its source.

Y/N was standing behind the bar washing glasses, but she wasn’t focused on the task at hand. Instead, her eyes were trained on the crowd before her. Geralt watched her as she scanned the pub with calm, slow-moving eyes that jumped from patron to patron.

The witcher was distracted for a moment when Jaskier sauntered into his sightline, singing a loud chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. Despite himself, Geralt couldn’t help but smile at the bard, whose face was flushed from the ales and the exertion.

However, as Geralt watched Jaskier twirl across the crowded pub, something in his peripheral vision made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Y/N had turned he head and was staring right at him with a pair of pitch-black eyes.  

Like a shot, Geralt turned his gaze to the woman behind the bar – his heart beating loudly in his ears – only to find her smiling warmly at him, her eyes their normal shade.

Instinctively, Geralt brought his hand up to his wolf-head medallion, hoping it would signal the presence of some supernatural evil. But he felt nothing.

He didn’t know what she was, but she was not human.