#i just watched the whole fucking show in one sitting i may have gone a little crazy!!

[nervestatic]

GO, RAMONA, GO!

[icarusallusion]

One of the main reasons I've been so fond of Otasune since I first knew it was a thing was because I think they're genuinely one of the purest forms of love in Metal Gear.

Throughout the series we see horrible relationships between horrible people trying to get by and then that relationship gets dragged through the awful scenarios they live with, be it war, internal struggles, infidelity etc. Despite this common place struggle with so many other characters, we see Otacon and Snake steadfast loyal and healthy throughout every struggle they go through.

They may not be an official couple, but they will always stay the most communicative relationship even outside of shipping. I see people joke about how Otacon kind of bosses Snake around (especially in MGS4), but I always saw it as refreshing. In the series, there is so many times where x character does something horrendous and y character just sits aside and silently sulks about it.

But this doesn't happen, like at all, with Dave and Hal. There are many times where Snake doesn't think about consequences to his actions as a general rule of soldier, however Hal has never been a soldier. So when these things happen, Otacon tells him off and it's something Snake genuinely needs to hear. It's something human, away from combat. Because Otacon is one of the very few characters that talks to Snake as a person, as a human, not as a soldier or fucked up clone baby.

Snake has gone his whole life scrapping the bottom of the barrel to stop feeling so lonely, he flirts with every woman he sees, he attaches himself very easily onto superiors, etc. Snake is a man who has spent his whole life trying to appeal to people, to get the praise he was never allowed as a child. Otacon gives him the comfort he never got. While any military superior can say Dave is the best of the best. None will look him in the face and tell him he has to live to just live.

Hal also opens a lot of doors to Snake's own discovery about himself. While this next point might sound a little cringy, stick with me. People may joke about the anime interest Snake and Otacon share, but it always came across so genuinely sweet to me. Snake's only interests up until he met Otacon have been, stop feeling lonely and war. I think even part of his musher life and interests within sledding can contribute to part of this. I mean come on, not even a regular musher keeps 50 dogs in their house and dogs are a natural remedy to loneliness. But in all seriousness, David refers to the huskies as his only family and I don't see him connecting with any other mushers he works with, it reads as him wanting to not be alone while also still being so lonely. As well as how mushing is considered a more normal interest than being an otaku, especially in the early 2000s. Mushing is a sport, and being an Otaku was pretty much unheard of or hated. Watching this guy who has been stuffed full of war propaganda scream a dorky "falcon punch" and "ninjutsu" with his best friend is so heartwarming in a way.

As well as Otacon's whole meme turned question of "do you think love can bloom on the battlefield?" Is something that I think Snake needed to be asked. It's probably been something he's been thinking about. It is also one of the most human things Snake asked throughout the game. About finding love in fear. Otacon constantly prods into Snake's heart and brings out the good in him.

Not only does Hal open up a space for Snake to have genuine unashamed interests and show true pure humanity. He also shows off their childhood. Both Hal and David never got proper childhoods. They connect that with each other through cheesy animes, talking about uncertainty in love, finding out what life is all about, navigating feelings, and through that damn cheesy handshake hug. It's all genuinely pure and wholesome love that connects what they didn't get to explore in childhood with one another. When Snake opened that piss covered locker and saved Otacon, he brought his own salvation into his life without knowing it. The very presence of Otacon saved Snake. It's why MGS4 felt so depressing for me especially, the strain between Snake and Otacon left a hole in my little heart and made Snake feel even more hopeless.

I also want to talk about how Snake benefited Otacon.

Otacon begins as cowardly and timid, he's an incredibly insecure character that struggles to connect with others, probably stemming from the issues in his younger life. When he meets Snake, he's faced with someone he could relate to that has an outward appearance that makes him seem so much more confident than he is. Snake is not this, he's as insecure as Otacon. Indirectly, Snake is the whole reason Otacon gets on his feet to take action against terrorism, takes action to become a better person. Snake shows Hal that he doesn't haven't to be strong to do the right thing. Throughout time, Snake helps Otacon come to terms with his own self worth and issues.

In MGS2, it has one of my favorite examples. The infamous bro hug scene.

Before it, this is when Otacon allows himself to open up about his childhood, not even just Infront of Snake, Infront of Raiden too. This showcased such a development in his character because he's proudly talking about it, while even through tears he doesn't hide it anymore.

Did you know that during that scene if you pan the camera to Snake, you can see that he is crying too?

When Hal has a breakdown over his sister's death, Snake is there to comfort him as well as tell him how it is in bluntness with a hand on his back that he needs to save people. It isn't cold or callous, it's letting Otacon know that he has something worth fighting for after a loss like that. Then when they face one another, they embrace each other and Snake tells Hal that he believes in him. Hal spent a lot of time as a scientist, hoping for someone to believe in him, while Snake puts all of his belief into Hal.

I can never forget the iconic "You're the only god I can pray to, Otacon" line. Snake has a deep loyalty, love, and belief in Otacon that Otacon has never been truly given before.

They both, in turn love each other till the end of their lives. Their love was one of the most heart wrenching and beautiful things in Metal Gear Solid and it's no surprise it captivated so many people. Their relationship, whether you ship them or just see them as a bromance. There is no denying the love they feel for one another as friends or lovers is one of the most iconic and sweetest bromances out theres They have impacted so much pop culture and I love them forever, as I'm sure many of you do who read all the way to the bottom.

[creamflix]

various! malewifes x gn/male/female reader; 18+ content (minors dni or follow, you'll be blocked), established relationship, switch!reader, switch men <3, so much whimpering 'n whining and begging, character may be ooc (sorry!), grinding, dry humping featuring: thoma (genshin impact), luka (honkai star rail), choso kamo (jujutsu kaisen), ino takuma (jujutsu kaisen) + your favs ! – masterlist here ☆～（ゝ。∂）

you walk through the door quietly, a little grin spreading on your face as you hear the soft, breathless moans echoing from your bedroom. you don't even need to check your phone to know he’s been sending you more of those "i miss you" texts—each one getting more desperate, needy. but you decided to come home early. and now, stepping into the bedroom, you’re met with the sight of him already in the middle of his own little show.

he’s sprawled out on your shared bed, legs spread wide, eyes shut tight, his hand wrapped around his cock as he strokes himself shamelessly. he's so caught up in the moment, too far gone to even notice you standing there, watching. his voice is barely above a whisper, “oh— p-please… please…”

you should help him, right? that’s what a good partner does. but something about this moment, about how needy and wrecked he looks, just makes you want to watch him squirm a little longer. so you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, biting back a smirk as he continues to fuck his cock, his pace quickening as his breath hitches. he’s so close.

and just when you can tell he’s about to tip over the edge, you speak — soft, teasing. “having fun without me, baby?”

he gasps, freezing, his hand faltering as his eyes snap open to meet yours. his cheeks are flushed, pupils blown wide, a whimper falling from his lips as he realizes you’ve been there the whole time. “i-i didn’t… i didn’t know you were home yet.”

you take a slow step closer, eyes roaming over his trembling form, his body twitching with need. "i can see that. looks like you’ve been keeping yourself busy."

“please…” his voice is so small, so desperate, and he’s biting his lip, his hips still moving just slightly as if he can’t help it. “please… i need you.”

you hum, pretending to think it over, but really, you’re enjoying every second of his begging. “oh? need me for what? you seem to be doing fine on your own.”

“no — i-i can’t — please, i need you to touch me. please, i can’t do it without you.”

you finally give in, moving closer and sitting beside him on the bed. your hand trails down his chest, feeling the way his body trembles under your touch, and when your fingers ghost over his cock, he lets out a broken moan, hips jerking up toward your hand.

“so needy…” you murmur, stroking him slow, agonizing, just the way you know drives him crazy. "couldn’t wait for me, could you?"

he’s practically sobbing now, so desperate for more. “no, no, i couldn’t — please, please more… i’ll be good, i’ll be so good for you, just—"

your teasing fingers trail along his cock, painfully slow, and he’s biting his lip, trying so hard to hold back. his whines are growing louder, more frantic, but still, you keep him teetering right on the edge. “please…” he gasps, hips jerking up toward your hand, but you just smirk, continuing your torturous pace.

“patience, baby,” you hum, enjoying how wrecked he looks under you.

but that patience finally snaps.

you barely have time to react before he’s on you, flipping you over and pinning you down with a strength that catches you off guard. “wait — w-what are you—" your words turn into a squeal as he grinds his cock against you, desperate and frantic, hips moving with an urgency that leaves you breathless.

“i need it… can’t wait…” he gasps, grinding harder, his voice rough and trembling. his need is overwhelming, the heat radiating off him as he rubs himself against your body, practically humping you through your clothes. you can feel the strain of his cock, the fabric of your clothes doing nothing to hide how hard he is, and it’s making your head spin.

“baby, slow down—" you’re trying to catch your breath, squirming beneath him as he grinds into you with reckless abandon. “wait — at least let me — take off my clothes, you’re gonna—" your voice breaks off as he presses harder, the friction intense, and you realize with a flash of panic that he doesn’t care about your work clothes or the mess he’s about to make.

“can’t… can’t slow down…” he’s panting now, his breath hot against your neck as he ruts into you, the fabric between you soaked with his pre-cum. “please, please… i need it. i need to cum.”

your hands scramble to push at his chest, trying to get him to pause, but it’s no use. he’s too far gone, completely consumed by his need. “you’re gonna—oh, god, you’re gonna ruin my clothes!” you squeal, half-laughing, half-panicking, but he doesn’t even hear you. all that matters to him is the release he’s been chasing all day.

his hips jerk, the friction sending shockwaves through his body, and with a choked cry, he cums, shuddering against you as he grinds through the high. you can feel it—his cock pulsing against your pants, the wet mess soaking through the layers he pants, breathless and trembling.

he collapses onto you, still shaking from the intensity of it, burying his face in your neck. you’re left gasping, trying to wrap your head around what just happened. for a moment, there’s just the sound of your heavy breathing and the weight of him resting on top of you.

you reach up, stroking his hair gently, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “you really couldn’t wait, huh?” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple. his face is still buried in your neck, but you can feel the heat of his embarrassment as he mumbles a quiet, “sorry…”

“it’s fine,” you whisper, kissing him again, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. “i love you like this… desperate and all.”

he finally looks up at you, his eyes a little watery, a shy smile forming as he leans into the kiss, his body relaxing against yours. “i love you too…” his voice is soft, sweet, and full of affection. he nuzzles into you, content now that he’s had you, and you can’t help but chuckle at how adorable he looks.

“come on,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. “let’s clean up. we’ll deal with the clothes later.”

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[fictionalmenxyn]

✧𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

His love language?? Definitely quality time and physical love. He will literally show up unannounced at the sorority house. Come into your room and lay in your bed till you get back from class. Or if your doing course work or getting ready to go to class. He’ll lay there watching or chatting. He even goes to your room while you’re in class. Just so he can be in ‘your’ environment. It’s comforting to him, watching your tv while lying on your bed?? Heaven

Definitely a clinger or heavy flirt when drunk “damn baby, you look s’good right now…” “Rafe, I’m in my fucking pyjamas, shut up.” “Nah, baby, swear… you’re even better without them…” “RAFE, SLEEP”

This guy when it comes to you in his clothes. GOD he’s feral!! “Jesus Christ, when did you get that??” “Ok, one I’m not Jesus, and two, last week I stole it before I left.” “Fuck, keep stealing, look so good” “shot take my whole closet.”

He’s so laid back with the sorority girls. He’ll listen to the gossip and even add on to the shit. If you’re heavy on the ‘you gotta get along with my friends for me to even consider getting into a relationship’ he’s getting to know your friends instantly. He wants you, of course he’s gonna do it.

You got class and he doesn’t? He’ll walk you. Until he knows your in your class, he’s not leaving your side. Making sure no one knocks you or barges into you in the hallway. Holding your hand like you’d drift away if you didn’t hold his hand. Either that or an arm around your waist. Gotta show everyone you’re his, of course.

Stealing your notes, idk why, but I feel like he would. “Rafe?… Babe? Have you seen my sport notes?” “Uhhh no? Why they gone missing?” “Yeah… think someone has them in a backpack that’s right by their shoes…” “who me?! Nah baby, wrong person, I didn’t steal shit.” “So if I looked in your bag?” “Ok, I may have-” “you bitch!”

He loves cuddling after a long college day. Walks into your room, not bothering to knock. He lays on your bed. If you’re at your desk and look over to him, his arms are open and his famous words “come lay with me, pretty girl.” And in one swift movement. You’re in his arms while he plays with your hair.

He also oddly loves that you’re passionate about your favourite subject. Like if it’s art for example, he’ll always ask to see it or watch you while you do your art. Or of it’s sports and you need someone to help you with a part of your course. Don’t even ask, he’s already said yes. Such a supportive boyfriend fr.

He LOVES when you either rub his back or play with his hair. Especially when he’s lying on top of you. His head on your chest. His cheek squished against you, eyes shut as you play with his hair and rub his back. His body could just go limp from the sensation you make. He doesn’t understand how it makes him feel so good. Too good. But he will never EVER decline.

He loves that you get along with the guys. Like you’re able to match their energy and throw comebacks right at them. He just finds it so easy that you get along. As past hook ups would usually find the frat house annoying. Whereas you thrive there. It’s practically your second place at the college as your over there so much. Movie nights with the boys every Friday too, then party on Saturdays.

On the topic of being close with all the guys. You tell them all the gossip. You love how they listen to your rants and actually listen. Like while you’re doing your makeup at Rafe desk or picking your outfit for the night. They’ll all sit around Rafe’s room and listen to you rant about girl drama or things in general.

If you play a sport at college. Expect him to be there for every game, along with the frat guys. And he’ll make sure to pick you up after every practice (if you didn’t take your car).

He loves his kisses. Even if they’re quick ones. This guy will crave them 24/7, 365 days. Anywhere on him, he just wants them. He loves when you kiss his forehead, then his cheeks, then his chin, then nose and then his lips. Makes him melt right there and then.

He loves touching you, in both ways. But deep down, he loves just regular affection. Holding your hands, fidgeting with your rings. Playing with your hair, brushing his knuckles on your cheeks. Resting his forehead on yours, resting his cheek against yours. Watching movies and cuddling. Sitting on his lap, arm around your waist. The list can go on forever.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Aeternum

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: your life with Lloyd is a lot of work. Or rather, he is.

This is one of my birthday drabbles. Thanks again for your input :) Enjoy.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A birthday drabble for Carpe Noctem 

You stare at the small screen of the smart device. The smell of cinnamon fills the kitchen as you stand in wait of the baking desserts. You lean in to get a better view of the news segment. Your ears tweak at the reporter’s words. 

‘The sole survivor remains in the ICU with severe burns but healthcare personnel see a full recovery. As for those who passed, the survivor’s parents, they have been interred in the local cemetery and the service brought out hundred.’ 

They show images of the funeral; flowers, solemn faces, the front of a church.  

“Why are you watching that shit?” Lloyd, as always, knows when to barge in. 

“Alexa, stop playing,” you command the device and the screen returns to rest, showing the time and weather. “Just the news.” 

“I told you not to worry about that idiot.” He grunts as you face him. He tries to cross his arms then puts them straight, shaking out his left. He’s slick with sweat and his workout gear clings to his muscles. “I fucked up. Thought I killed him but the damn cockroach managed to drag himself out. What a pussy. Can’t even save his own parents.” 

“Lloyd. You--” 

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, mimi, your soft heart.” He leers at you and winks. “Softer body.” He sticks his tongue out and wince. He bends his elbow and rubs it. 

“What wrong with your arm?” You sigh. 

“Nothing. Old college injury. You know I was varsity, right? Coulda gone national but I made more money... doing something else.” 

“Right,” you sniff and go to the oven. You peer through the lit window at the spiral cookies. 

“What’s the point of me putting in all this work in the gym when you’re just fattening me up?” He scoffs. 

“You don’t have to eat the cookies.” You glance at the time on the small screen above the stove. 

“I have a nose and a stomach. I can’t resist.” He shuffles around the kitchen and surprises you as he comes up behind you. “Just like I can’t resist you.” 

“The cookies are for the shelter.” You stiffen as he wraps his arms around you and pulls your ass against him. “I told you several times not to touch.” 

“Mimi, you’re spending all my money.” 

You huff and look around at the spacious kitchen; stacked ovens, a hug marble island, a fridge with a glass door, a whole other fridge for just wine, and every single appliance you might need but have yet to use. You grab his wrists as he squeezes your hips. 

“I think you have more than enough. What else am I supposed to do?” 

“Have some wine, put on a thong, hop on my dick,” he purrs and rocks you with him, locking his hold on you. “You got your choice. The hot tub, the pool, sauna, hell, sit out in the sun and read one of your Austen joints. Want me to dress up like Darcy? Bit of role play?” 

“Stop,” you push on his arms and writhe. 

“What’s a matter, mimi? You weren’t so shy last night. Or yesterday afternoon. Or after lunch. Or in the morning.” 

You sneer and tear his hands away from your hips. You turn to him and poke his shoulder. He groans and rubs it. 

“Ow, you know that’s still healing.” 

“I told you to go to a real doctor,” you snip. 

“Mimi, they don’t touch me like you do.” He furls his fingers and his throat bobs. He runs his thumbs along his shorts and tugs. “Damn, just the thought—how about a cool down? I just chugged a protein shake, I gotta get it out.” 

“No.” 

“No?” He tilts his head. “Mommy, please.” 

“No, especially if you’re going to pull that.”  

You spin as the timer dings and you grab the oven mitts. You shut off the buzzer and take out the cookies. You put the pan on the counter to cool and hang the mitts again. 

“Mimi...” Lloyd drawls out as he closes in. 

You evade him. Keeping a step ahead as you scurry along the island. He pursues and you turn to face him as you round the corner. 

“I said no. I’m not in the mood.” 

“Why? Because that limp dick is in the hospital--” 

“Stop.” You whine and backpedal away from him as his advance continues. “Lloyd, I’m telling you to stop. I have to make a trip downtown to deliver the cookies--” 

“Really? You do? Because you don’t leave without me. Remember? Those are the rules.” He gets closer and closer.  

You peer around as you feel blindly and walk back on your heels. You pass through the doorway into the front room. You barely dodge the sofa and the little round table next to it. 

“Lloyd.” 

“Mimi.” 

“Leave me alone. I’m telling you.” 

“Keep telling me. It's making me hard.” He snickers. 

You veer through the next doorway and stumble as he lunges. He pulls back and laughs again. He’s taunting you. 

“Oh, I like this game, Mimi.” 

“I’m not playing,” you reach to grab the banister as you step towards the stairs. 

He takes a deep breath and stops. “Neither am I.” 

His smirk sends a chill through you. You freeze at the bottom step and gulp. You look up then back at him. In an instant, you’re barreling up, desperate to get to the top. As your feet slap on the stairs, his treads trail you up calmly. 

Shit. This is the last thing you need. No matter what or when, you always manage to provoke him. Every breath, every blink, every word only entices him. It’s tiring. Without a job, without your friends, it feels like your nothing more than toy. Any search for a different purpose just amuses him. 

You race down the hall. You have to make a quick decision. You burst into the bathroom and spin to swing the door shut. It bounces back as Lloyd shoves his sneaker between it and the frame. He shoves in after you with a taunting grin. 

You stagger back and search for any form of defence. You know it’s pointless. There’s no escape, no fight to be had, but you just want him to let you think for two minutes without mentioning his dick. You grab the bottle of hair spray and aim it at him. You push down and he coughs, waving his hand through the cloud of stickiness. 

He swats the aerosol from your hand and grabs your other arm. You whimper as he wrenches you toward him. He turns and pens you in against the floating counter. He tuts down at you as you push on his stomach. 

“Oh, mimi,” his eyes flick above you. “That’s a great fucking idea.” He grips your shoulder and twists you around to face the counter. “I’d love to watch.” 

He keeps you trapped as you slap a hand on the marble and try to shove him away with the other. He stretches the elastic of his shorts and they fall to his feet. You wriggle as he wraps his arm around you and leans you against the counter. 

His other hand snakes under your skirt. One of the many pieces stocked in your closet. None of them fit right. They all flutter a bit too high on your thigh. 

“Lloyd,” you beg. “Later. Not—now.” 

“Too fucking late. My dick hurts.” 

“Stop!” You throw and elbow back into his ribs. He grunts and nuzzles your hair. 

“Don’t mess around.” He warns. 

He kicks your feet apart and peels your panties down your thighs. The strip of lace strains around your legs. He bends you further as he feels around. He brings his tip down to your cunt and prods you, tapping, and rubbing. 

“Mm, I feel you shaking for me, Mommy.” 

“Please--” you gasp. 

“You don’t gotta beg,” he boats. 

“Urgh, get—off!” You bend your arm awkwardly and once more poke at his shoulder. He exclaims but persists.  

He lines up as he bares his teeth, hooking his jaw over your shoulder. The anger pulses in his forehead as he glares at your reflection. He snaps his hips and impales you with a growl. You cry out and brace the counter as your legs buckle. 

“Ow!” You plead with him in the mirror. Eyes misty, eyes pouting. 

His lips curve deeper as he thrusts, jerking your hip bones into the marble. His hand crawls up to your chest and he squeezes your chest with a snarl. He tilts his head and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He ruts as his eyes blaze back at you from the glass. 

His hand snakes down your stomach and delves beneath your skirt. You hide beneath your eyelids as he finds your clit. He flicks over your hood and you spasm. You mewl as he does it again and again. Worse than his strength is his talent at toying with you. Even as you resist, he finds your weak spot and needles away at it. 

“Mmm,” he purrs as he unlatches his teeth and kisses up your neck. 

His mustache tickles as he pounds against your ass, fingers sliding around your slickness, breath fogging around your chest. Your thighs quiver and your feet arch. You bend forward a little more and he hits just the right spot. 

You cum in a ripple of pathetic moans. You’re breathless and weak. You slump onto your elbow and he growls as you open to him completely.  

He frames your hips and pumps into you until his motion turns erratic. He groans and grunts, digging his nails through the fabric as he pulls out. He cums down your thigh as you hang off the counter.

He lets out a gurgle and snaps his knuckles against your ass. He moves rigidly as he turns and leans his bare ass on the marble beside you. He rubs your back as you gulp and catch your breath.

You stand up but he stops you from grabbing a tissue to wipe up. He’s shameless as his shorts still cling around one ankle. 

“Hey, baby cakes, get my shorts for me? Think I pulled something.” 

You scowl at him as he emphatically clutches his side. You sniff and wave him off. You grab a washcloth and wet it under the faucet. You wipe yourself off and toss the balled fabric into the sink. 

“Pull your own shorts up,” you sneer. 

“I mean it, Mimi, my back’s all sorts of locked up. You got me all bound up.” He gives a pathetic whimper. “Please, take care of me like you always do.” 

You shake your head and squat down to grab the shimmering puddle of shorts. This is ridiculous. He lifts his feet to hook it through and as you tug them up his legs, an odd weight hangs in the flimsy fabric. His dick twitches just as you cover it up and let the elastic snap him meanly. 

“You feel that, Mimi,” he catches your hand and pulls it back to him. You try to shake him off but can’t. “Am I happy to see you or is that a ring in my pocket?” He brushes your palm over his dick and to his pocket. The shape you felt is sharper than you expect. You look up at him in confusion. 

“You didn’t even give me a chance to get on one knee.” 

He guides your hand to the top of his pocket and lets go. Your heart thumps as you reach inside and pull out the heart-shaped box. The lid opens like wings from the middle. You reveal the sapphire trimmed diamond inside. Each stone bigger than the next. 

You gape at the sparkling cluster. Lloyd chuckles and strokes your cheek. He cups your chin and raises it. As you look at him, he smirks again. 

“You take care of me, I take care of you,” he traces his thumb along your lip. “Speaking of, I’m fucking serious about my back. Can I get some help?” 

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Could you do one where the whole band is in the studio and reader is so desperate that she rides axl in front of everyone. Preferably the original line up in the current era please I love you❤🌷

A/n: I may have gone a little crazy with this but that's ok because who doesn't love the whole pretty boy band <3

Warnings: Smut, gang bang, riding, fingering(f receiving), hand jobs, breeding kink, if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Guns N’ Roses was finally back from tour and you couldn’t have been happier to get to be with Axl again. You called everyday while he was away, with the calls often ending in phone sex, but it wasn’t enough.

You knew from the get go with him that you wouldn’t be able to be with him as much as you might have liked to be, it was just part of being with someone in a band. Didn’t mean you didn’t miss him, in more ways than one.

You’d spent the first few days together, as per usual, but one morning you woke up to find him getting ready to leave.

“Hey, babe, where’re you going?” You asked as you walked into the bathroom where he was.

“Going to the studio today.” He answered through a mouthful of toothpaste. You glanced at his reflection in the mirror then back to him.

“Why? You guys just got back from tour.” He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth.

“Yeah, where I had a lot of time to think of new songs.” He explained. He planted a kiss on your forehead before heading out of the bathroom and to the walk-in closet. “We’re going to a studio to work on the instrumentals of some of them for our next album.” You watched as he sorted through clothes.

“What about me?” You asked, looking up at him with a small pout.

“What about you?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You expect me to just sit here all day?”

“Don’t you do that a lot anyway?” You glared at him, arms crossed over your chest and he gave you a kiss instead of apologising. “It’s only a few hours and then I’ll be home again.” You scoffed. He started changing in front of you, you watched him shamelessly.

“I’m coming with you.” You stated and started picking out your own outfit.

“No you’re not.” He looked at you with a confused expression. “What would you even do?” You shrugged.

“Nothing.” You said as you found an outfit for yourself. “But I want to be with you, so I’m coming.” He stared at you for a moment before deciding that he’s not going to be able to change your mind.

“Fine, be ready in ten minutes or I’m leaving without you.

You finished getting ready, it took longer than ten minutes but you knew he wouldn’t leave without you, and of course he didn’t. He was still waiting in the kitchen on his phone, completely having lost sense of time.

Upon entering the studio you were met with familiar faces all around. Slash was looking down at his Les Paul, Izzy was watching him and strumming along a rhythm to it. Steven and Duff were talking about dogs. At least you assumed so since they were showing each other pictures of dogs.

They all greeted you and Axl when you came in. Axl guided you to the couch and sat next to you, throwing an arm around you and holding you close to his side.

They were all talking about one thing or another, the tour, home life, stuff like that before actually diving into what they came there for which was the next album.

You were bored out of your mind. No one cared when you went on your phone, you didn’t really have much reason to be there anyway other than them asking your opinion on some things, which lyric fit better, whether or not they should add more solos. You enjoyed helping when you could but you were so fucking bored you were losing your mind.

You started reading about Axl, finding smutty fics about him to pass the time. It did help, to a point. After a few minutes of reading all you wanted was to act it out.

You knew he had his phone in his pocket so you texted him, saying how needy you were. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and looked at it, glancing back at you before responding. He told you to go deal with it in the bathroom. You huffed and stayed seated on the couch.

As they kept talking you decided ‘fuck it’ and started pushing the joint in your thumb against your clit through your thin, summer shorts. It wasn’t much but it was some form of friction, friction you were craving.

You kept your eyes on your phone for the most part but when you heard Slash’s low chuckle you had to look up. His glasses covered his eyes so you couldn’t see exactly where he was looking but you could tell he was looking at you, watching you touch yourself. His hand covered his mouth but he was smiling, you could see it in his cheeks. That much was a motivator to keep going.

You spread your legs and reached your hand into your shorts, continuing to touch yourself but this time with a viewer. Slash kept watching, smiling, chuckling to himself.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Slash?” Axl finally asked. His tone wasn’t angry, even though you couldn’t see his face you could hear the way the corners of his mouth were pulled into a smile.

The guitarist shook his head and gestured to you. You quickly closed your legs and hid what you had been doing so when Axl turned to look at you there was nothing to see. Sure enough he asked Slash what you’d been doing.

“Go deal with your girlfriend.” He mumbled, aiming his gaze to the ground. Axl turned around again and took a closer look at you. Your cheeks were flushed, sweat was starting to collect at your hairline and your breathing was heavy.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He came over to you, getting your pants and panties off. You started squirming and reaching for your clothes, not expecting him to undress you in front of his band. “I told you to stay home but no you just had come along, now look at you.” He gestured to your now half-naked body. You still tried to cover yourself but he wouldn’t let you, holding your legs apart as his bandmates gathered around behind him to gawk at your glistening folds.

Axl slapped your thigh. “Get up.” You did as he asked, though still wanting to cover yourself. Axl got his half-hard dick out of his pants and sat down behind you before pulling you down on him, slipping into you with ease given how hot you made yourself prior.

He got your legs onto the couch so you were straddling him, backwards cowgirl style. He wanted you to do all the work, since this was what you wanted in the first place. He also wanted this position so that his friends could see everything, from your pretty little cunt to the faces you made when you came.

“Go on, give us a show.” Duff said, already palming himself through his jeans. Axl patted the space beside him for Duff to come sit. He did and pulled out his hard member for you to jerk. You let out a soft whine and reached for him, starting to bounce yourself on Axl’s cock while stroking Duff’s.

Steven came over as well, standing to the side of you so as to not abstract Slash and Izzy’s view of you. He dropped his own pants and waited expectantly for you to let him in on the fun. You glanced back to Axl. “Can’t keep him waiting.” He said with a grin. You looked back to Steven and started pumping his shaft as well.

You thought this was a lot but you knew it wasn’t the end of it either. Izzy and Slash were both standing farther back working themselves. It seemed that you watching them acted as confirmation and they came over.

They didn’t make you take them into your mouth like you thought they would, much to your delight. Instead, they started jerking themselves off in your face and all you could do was wait for them to cum on you.

Your body was getting tired, arms wanted to fall to your sides and your legs began to shake under you as you kept bouncing on Axl. Seeing this the ginger started fucking up into you, making it a little easier.

Of course he knew your body better than anyone and knew exactly which spots to hit to make your eyes roll back. You had five men around you, all with their dicks out for you. It made everything feel better, especially when Duff reached over to rub your clit.

He has long, talented fingers that quickened everything you were feeling. “Fuck! ‘M-’m gonna cum, gonna cum!” You whined, hands clenching and unclenching around Duff and Steven’s cocks which seemed to get Steven over the edge, white liquid spurting onto your lap.

You looked down at it with stars in your eyes. It was then that you realised how badly you wanted all of them to cum on you. You kept jerking Steven off, his voice getting higher now. You could feel Axl twitching inside of you so you looked back at him.

“Please cum inside, want it so bad, please.” You whined. Axl had always wanted kids so you learned early on in your relationship that he had a breeding kink and asking him to cum inside your tight cunt was a sure fire way to make him cum.

Sure enough he grabbed your hips and held you down on him while his cum filled you up. That feeling alone almost made you cum but what really did it was Slash toying with your nipple.

You hadn’t been looking at him so his warm hand was already a surprise but the way he fondled you made your eyes roll back into your head. Your body shook and the couch under you, along with Axl’s lap, was now drenched.

You heard Duff groaning beside you and looked over just in time to catch his dick leaking, thick liquid coating your hand. His hand didn’t stop working on your clit, rubbing it, pinching and flicking. Seeing what made you moan the loudest and sweetest.

Izzy turned your head and thick ropes spurted onto your face. You stared up at him, lips parted as his seed slipped into your mouth. You were in such a trance for a moment you almost missed the feeling of Slash cumming on your chest.

More than once you’d caught him staring at your chest, really anyone’s chest. You smiled up at him and moved up and down Axl a few more times so he could watch your tits bounce while he came.

You were all breathing heavy, panting on one another as you came down from your highs.

“Get up.” Axl said with a heavy breath, patting your thigh. You got up and then started questioning what he wanted, your mind still in a haze. Sweat and jizz mixed together on your body and dripped down.

“Why..?” You asked out of breath and legs shaking beneath you.

“You wanted to get fucked so bad,” the ginger started, “why not give everyone a turn?” You stared up at him with wide eyes as you felt Slash’s big, warm hands wrap around your waist.

[pyssball]

beaching for life .ᐟ f1 d!lfs

masterlist

a/n: beach trip w the gang bc who’s gonna stop me 😼 also a bit of a time skip btw abt a week or so after the trip with seb. i was going to write a smut cut of this chapter between mark and chloe but i scratched it bc i realised idk how to write smut 😭 also sorry this took so long, my job is kicking my ass 😞

word count: 1.4k

no warnings for this chapter 💌

February 7, 2023

She wasn’t supposed to be at his house until tomorrow but a little surprise never hurt anyone.

She turned off her headlights as she turned onto his road and pulled into his driveway, giggling to herself as she did so. Mark was always the one to show up and surprise her at one of her shows so she just wanted to return the favour.

As she sat in her car she pulled out her phone to call Mark, to which he answered almost immediately with a stern, “What are you doing up this late?”

“Who are you? My dad?” she giggled, ”I just missed your voice.” she spoke softly, that part was true, she really did miss him, which is partially why she chose to come over a bit earlier than planned.

“That’s very sweet, honey, but I think you should get some sleep.” As soon as he finished his sentence he heard a car door shut on the other side of the phone. “Was that a car door?”

“Maybe.” she giggles, “I took a drive.”

“At 11:32 at night?”

“I got bored.” she walked up to the front of the house, “Plus I have someone to see.” and with that she hung up, leaving Mark completely confused. She shoved her phone back into her pocket while she knocked on the door.

It took him a couple seconds to get to the door, but as soon as he opened it he just froze. He looked mortified but she knew that was far from the truth, he was just trying to process the whole ordeal. She smirked at his reaction, “Surprise.” she sang, holding her arms out for a hug.

“Chloe!” Mark immediately picked her up and spun her around, wrapping her in his arms. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” he places her back on her feet, resting his hands on her hips as he awaited a response

“I wanted to surprise you!”

“Well this is certainly a surprise sweetheart.” he pressed a kiss to her forehead before guiding her into the living as he went to retrieve her bags from her car. After he was done he sat down next her her on the couch, putting his arm around her and pulled her closer to his side, she snuggled against him, humming softly as she got comfortable.

The pair ended up falling asleep on the couch while watching a re-run of Grown Ups, legs and arms tangled up together. Chloe’s head resting on his chest and his arms firmly wrapped around her waist, insuring no escape.

February 8, 2023 (10:02 a.m.)

Mark woke up before she did (surprise, surprise) and decided to make her breakfast, he wasn’t much of a cook but he figured it was the thought that counted.

He admits, he may have gone a bit over board but in his mind she deserved every bit of it. He makes his way to the living room to wake her up, something he really didn’t enjoy doing. His hands also slowly ran up and down her back, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade, “Babyyy..” he sang softly.

Her eyes fluttered open as she felt him press another kiss to her skin, this time to her crook of her neck and she hummed in response.

“Time to get up, darling.” he says warmly, “I made you breakfast.”

“Bacon?” she all but mumbles.

He chuckles, “Yes, there’s bacon, hun. Now come on before it gets cold.”

She sits up, wiping her eyes as she yawns obnoxiously loud. Mark helps walk her to the dining room, pulling her chair out for her. “Such a gentleman.” she giggles as she sits.

“Only for you.” he winks before he walks to the kitchen to grab the plates he had made for the two of them, “Hope you’re hungry.” he said as he placed one of the plates in front of her and the other on front of his seat, “You want apple juice, love?”

She nodded quickly in response and she began eating her food. He had made everything she liked, just the way she liked it, eggs fried with no yolk, bacon a bit crispy and toast the perfect golden brown. He placed a cup near her plate as he finally sat down to eat with her, “I have the car all packed and ready, Jenson and Nando are getting there together, Seb said he’d be a bit late but he’ll be there.”

Her brows furrowed, “Seb? Late? Impossible.”

“Apparently he woke up late.” he shrugged, “Knowing him he’ll probably find some way of getting there quicker.”

(11:24 a.m.)

Mark was right.

Sebastian managed to get there before everyone, sitting under a tree as he waited for the others to arrive.

He made his way to Mark’s car to help upload as Chloe searched for the perfect spot. Jenson and Fernando weren’t too far behind, pulling up a couple minutes after Mark set up the umbrella Chloe insisted he bring.

Chloe was in the middle of unpacking all the snacks and laying them out in a nice spread for everyone when Jenson put his hands around her eyes, “Guess who.” he sang.

She’d smile, “Judging by that stupid British accent I assume Jenson.” she’d spin around to be greeted by not only the Brit but also Fernando. She hugged them both before going back to sorting the snacks.

“So what’s the plan?” Jenson asked, sitting on one of the blankets laid out on the sand.

“Well I don’t know about you guys but I’m drawing for a bit.” Chloe spoke, sitting in one of the deck chairs Mark had packed, gathering her sketchbook and art supplies from her backpack.

Fernando chuckled as he sat next to Jenson, “You’re always drawing, cariño.”

She shrugged, “And you guys are always racing so what’s the problem?”

Jenson laughed, “Cheeky little thing today, are we?”

Chloe smiled widely, “Always.”

Mark and Seb had just got done unpacking everything, walking back over to the group, sitting on the other blanket next to the deck chair. “Glad you guys are enjoying yourselves.” Mark grumbled, laying down on the blanket, attempting to stretch his back.

(1:43 p.m.)

The sun hung high in the clear blue sky, casting golden rays on the pale sand below. Waves crashing against the shore, creating soothing sounds for the group’s adventures. Birds flying overhead, cawing at each other.

Jenson was closest to the water’s edge, engrossed in an intense game of beach volleyball with Mark, diving to save the ball, sending it soaring back over the net with triumphant smile as it smacked the sand, causing Mark to yell out a string of curses.

Chloe stayed in the deck chair under the shade of the umbrella, her sketchbook balanced on her knees as she captured the scene before her in swift, confident pencil strokes, the page slowly filling with a lively depiction of their beach day.

Fernando had moved to sit on the blanket closest to Chloe, intently watching the volleyball game, occasionally stealing glances at Chloe’s work.

A little further down the beach was Sebastian, crouched down peering into a pool crowded with tiny crabs and colourful sea anemones. He called out to the others, excitement in his voice as he discovered a vibrant starfish clinging to a rock.

As the day wore on, the friends came together for a break. Mark and Jenson collapsing onto the sand, breathless from their game. Fernando moving up to sit behind Chloe on the deck chair, Chloe putting her sketchbook back into her bag. Seb joined them, cradling his starfish discovery in a small bucket of water.

“Look what I found.” She said, holding the bucket up for everyone to see.

Chloe leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Woahhh, it’s so pretty, Seb. You always find the coolest stuff.”

Jenson grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Anyone up for a swim?”

Mark nodded, already getting up his feet, “You know it!”

Chloe beamed, “Can we play mermaids?”

Mark, Seb and Fernando all yelled ‘yes!’ in sync and the group erupted with laughter.

thank you for reading, darlings ! remember to like and reblog ! i’ll give u a smooch if u do, luv u all !

[astraveritas]

★ my scorpio sun/venus and 8h mars best friend has kevin mcallister like plan for revenge if her fiance ever cheats on her. when she told me this I was not surprised at all. I love my scorpio women but yall insane.

★ fire moons are loud as hell when it comes to showing emotions. when they find something funny best believe the whole neighborhood will know. their laugh can wake up the dead.

— two fire moons having a quiet chat

★ cancer sun people are extremely business savvy, very much like their opposite sign capricorn. they constantly show up on the top of the lists of the wealthiest people. after all cancer is exalted in jupiter, the planet of luck, abundance and risk-taking. basically that gif of woody harrelson drying his tears with money is peak cancer sun energy.

★ famous people from the sagittarius-gemini axis are messy as hell. no one brings more chaos, drama, confusion and madness into the entertainment industry that this pair. they said “let me entertain you” and took it to 11

★ visual representation of scorpio men with libra placements using their libra placements charm to be the perfect nice gentleman to lure you in just to switch up and unleash their scorpio craziness on you unprompted 10 seconds later

★ saggitarius rising people cannot sit still, they always end up in the weirdest places and have the craziest stories to tell, like how the hell did you even get in there? and they're always like “I have a friend, who have a friend, who have a uncle who knows this dude and that’s how I ended up in underground bunker sex rave” and by the time you finish comprehending that information they’re already gone.

★  virgo placements and their scary attention to details. nothing will slip past them, they will notice and they will point it out, no they won’t care if they hurt your feelings, do better.

— virgo placement staring at someone 20ft away and noticing a stain on their shoes.

★ “look what the cat dragged in” but the cat is pisces sun/mars woman who just introduced you to her boyfriend and he is the weirdest creature of a man you ever laid your eyes upon. people who talk about aquarius women and their strange taste in men, never met a pisces woman in their life. aquarius women will be into counterculture type of men whatever the counterculture may mean to her personally. but pisces women? they’re dating mad libs in form of men.

★ have yall noticed taurus placements and their sense of smell? their noses are so sensitive they could probably work as police dogs in airports. very similar to virgos in that area. no one sniffs their food more before they eat it than a taurus placement. you ask out loud “what’s that smell?” and a taurus placement be like “i’m sensing basil with a pinch of black mustard seed” and they end up being right every time. they also love for their home to smell nice, always opening the windows to let the fresh air in and lighting scented candles. 

— taurus placement after buying every scented candle, perfume, aromatic bath salt, lotion and air freshener they found on sale.

★ people with mars-mercury conjunction/trine in fire sign are blunt. they will say what everyone is thinking out loud and drag everything unsaid into the surface and force people to confront it. 

★ watching people with libra sun/mars in a discussion with someone they don’t agree with is hilarious. you can see in their eyes that they do not fuck with this person and their opinions and yet there’s still this polite smile on their face, but something behind their eyes says “murder”.

[hwsing]

more nsfw for england please (i dont really need anything specific i just wanna know ur take on him) 🙏

what the brit’s like in bed

notes: 18+, reader is afab and gender neutral. includes: england (arthur kirkland) as always, reblogs are appreciated!

cw: this is more blabbing than a coherent fic; discussion of arthur present and past. reader is described like they’re mortal for the majority of this. arthur is perverted; both soft and hard sex mentioned, very light bondage, blowjobs and cunninglings, mostly dom!arthur, phone sex, panty stealing, voice kink, roleplay, mention of spanking, daddy kink, body worship, praise. wc: about 1.6k. not proof read

in the modern day, arthur is… old. even if you hc him to still look like a twink, (cant say i agree but moving on,) spiritually and mentally he is old. he’s seen many many things — including quite a bit of sex. he’s by no means a stranger to it; don’t let his prudish attitude these days fool you. he’s gone through quite a few eras of his life where he viewed sex far more carelessly than he does now. although, even know, i dont think he’s quite uptight about it as one would think.. it’s just that he has standards now. he’d probably put it like that. whereas, back in the day, he probably viewed sex as something of a conquest. now, he sees it more as a connection between two (or more — although i do think he’s monogamous) people. that connection doesn’t have to be love — sometimes, it’s just a need for another body. arthur is a romantic deep down, though. likely because there’s been so many eras in his life when he was anything but romantic, he can’t help but crave it nowadays.

that being said, arthur now 100% believes in making love. i’m talking the whole 10 yards; he’ll hold your hands as he rocks his hips into yours, meticulous about fucking you deep and slow, even cooing at you. his heart feels heavier than it ever has before when you look up at him so sweetly; he almost always makes you cum at least once or twice before you even have sex with his fingers and mouth — both to tease you a bit and to prep you to be easier to fuck. as much as arthur often treats you like glass, he can’t help but take advantage of your dependence on him during times like this.

maybe it’s something left over from his olden days. something in him that craves ego and control; but……. how is he supposed to not get a bit of a power treat as he coaxes you onto your knees, having tied your wrists together with his belt, leaving you to sit obediently looking up at him? his face always feels so hot as he gets so much attention, but you’ll hardly see a peak of a blush as you suck him off. he especially likes when he’s still in his office wear clothes. the suits and all that, you know, the sleek shoes… really sets in the mood for him. if he’s feeling particularly mean that day, he’ll even suggest you get yourself off on his shoe as you sit there. watching you shyly try to grind yourself on his shoe, only to start pathetically rutting when you finally get close; he almost forgets his cock is shoved down your throat as he cums, his hards keeping your head there for a moment as you whine, forcing you to swallow his load. i already wrote about how he likes to go down on his partner here, so go read that if you havent yet <3

arthur is a pretty busy guy. he’s more involved in his country’s politics than some of the other nations, which leads to him working a lot… sometimes overseas. or, worse, you guys are already a long distance couple as it is (don’t worry, though. regardless, he’ll want you to move in by year three, and that’s the long guess; when arthur is in love, he’s in love.) basically, there’s bound to be times when you’re away from each other quite a bit. arthur would probably rather die than show himself as clingy — ugh, even thinking about it makes his brow furrow. and so, he may or may not have discreetly taken a pair of used underwear with him… just for when he really needs it! he’s not some perverted demon, okay? he can use his own imagination… it’s just… it’s so much easier with your used panties wrapped around his cock as he pumps… of course he took a sniff first to help him really picture the scene — stop, he’s not weird! the next night, though, he’s likely to call you up. first, it’s a pretty normal call, but he transitions the conversation to what he wants with a surprising amount of smoothness. maybe it’s just his voice that can easily coax you to do as he wants — oh, right. if you have a thing for his voice at all — and i meant at all, he will pick up on it and 100% use it against you.

he’s bigger on dirty talk than he’d like to admit. he just can’t help it — especially over the phone, what else is he supposed to do?!! his usually stable voice is almost breathy as he tells you what to do; he’s guiding you through the entire thing. if you whine at all about how you can’t do it like he can, he’s so quick to encourage you. various petnames like love, darling, and good girl/boy/etc are falling off his tongue as he coos you. it makes his heart flutter and dick twitch when you’re the needy one.

he’s always going to tease you about it a bit, especially if you’re shy about it. he’ll show faux sympathy for the way you blush and look away, grasping your face back to look at him; “what ever could have you so worked up like this, i wonder?” he’ll ask, tilting his head as he looks at you with a knowing, smug smile tugging at his thin lips. when you murmur about how he shouldn’t tease, he’ll claim that he was only asking an honest question. he’ll encourage you, saying that if there’s you want, you’ll have to use your words. when you inevitably say you want him to fuck you, or that you want his cock, he’ll chuckle, the cheekiest blush dusting lightly over his cheeks. “oh, that’s what you’re after, is it?” he muses, unbuckling his belt. “ask for it properly, then.”

as you can imagine, arthur quite like titles. he doesn’t think it’s something he really needs, but when you whimper for daddy or even sir, perhaps master if the situation calls for it, he almost cums every time. arthur tries pretty hard to stay as the one in control, but you make it awfully hard for him to not bend you over the kitchen table and take you when you start to use the term so causally. in private, of course. he’d probably die if you ever called him that in public. he definitely thinks its a very… intimate matter, so it would catch him quite off guard for you to say it outside of the bedroom but still inside the comfort of your own home. he’ll look over at you, jaw clenching as he sees your pretend innocence, smiling at him as if you only called him dear. what a tease — he can’t have that, of course. seems like you’ll need some discipline.

on a lighter note, arthur really does love your body, whatever that may look like. at his age, any sense of a physical type has sort of faded, anyways. he’ll take his time to kiss all over you, groping you ad sweetly as one can as he tells you how beautiful you are. he can find it a bit difficult to express how much he loves you sometimes, but he’s adamant on making sure you can feel how much he cherishes you during such intimate moments. he finds himself quite flustered if you ever do it back; kissing along his neck as you unbutton his shirt, whispering about how much you need him while palming his cock, telling him how good he makes you feel; he thinks about it for weeks after, though. totally worth it.

i almost forgot! arthur is a very creative and imaginative person. while he does always imagine you as you, some of the sexual power dynamics that develop in the relationship can’t help but make him wonder… what if you were his servant? he’ll get you a maid or butler outfit or whatever you want — it’ll be a slightly more skimpy version, of course, but still realistic enough for him to have his fantasy. the scene would probably go something like; you’re his new servant, who’s a bit of a mess but means well. he comes home from a particularly stressful day at work, and after you spill the tea you were going to serve him, he spanks you as punishment. he gets really into it — of course, lots of aftercare, don’t even worry about that. he’ll be a bit apologetic about the marks lingering on the flesh of your ass for the days to come, but he also definitely feels a certain type of way about it. he doesn’t love any obvious marks — not today, anyways. punk arthur and pirate arthur were probably more into hickies littering their partners neck, but modern arthur thinks it’s trashy… so secret marks like this, that no one else but him can see? when you sit down and wince a little, and he’s the only one that knows why? woo!

[junedenim]

a vision trip

part 1 part 3

one day with a familiar face in a foreign country

word count: 10.4k

It's May in Paris. The breeze is light and the air is sweet. Alex sits in a cafe, picking at his nails, waiting. He nurses a coffee, but it's too bitter, and he's too nervous to ask for sugar or cream. He debates ordering food but decides to wait for his counterpart. He's tired. Too many shows and an overwhelming amount of traveling. There isn't much keeping him awake other than the people bustling around him and the person he's awaiting.

She was supposed to be here at 12 and it's 12:10 now. He won't complain. He isn't one for punctuality either. He can't think about the show tonight. It's draining but he'll soak up every minute of it. He just doesn't want to wait. He wants to take a nap. He'll wait 10 more minutes and then leave. It's fair enough.

He's tapped out. People-watching in Paris is quite a thrill. People sitting outside are smoking and he wishes he picked a seat out there so he could at least have a cigarette keeping him awake. There's a couple across the street either arguing or just passionately talking. It's hard to tell the difference.

Then, the chair across from him screeches across the floor loudly, drawing his eyes up. All the color drains from his face, his ghostly appearance recognizing the phantom that stands before him. His heart has fallen out of him. It's lying on the floor somewhere, the blood spurting out of it. Alex is certain he has fallen and hit his head and this is the dream sequence that plays in the movie. He's lost in a circle of time. It could be minutes or seconds, he sits there with his mouth begging to catch flies.

She smiles. That same fucking smile. Bright, pearly, the kind she'd give that made him want to lean in and kiss her. She looks the exact same. Even has a bandana on, although, now it's tied around the back of her head, holding that blonde hair back. It's longer now. She's dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white pinstriped button-up. It's almost like they are matching. Could be, if they wanted to with his trousers and white button-up.

He blinks like twenty times trying to clear his vision, make sure of this sight. Confirm this is real. It stays the same. "Holy fucking shit," he finally utters.

Her smile grows wider. "Wow," she sighs, "your French has gotten much worse. You're supposed to say bonjour."

Alex finally allows a smile to crack his face, despite his certainty that this can not be real. "What—what are you doing here?" His brows furrow, still unable to take in her whole image.

She takes off the saddle bag. It's leather this time. Not her old cloth one with the pins. She sits fully down in the chair across from him. A wide smirk displays across her face as she rests her head on her left hand. "Interviewing you."

As if this interaction couldn't get crazier and his jaw could possibly hang open wider. "Seriously?"

She gives him a pleased nod. "I don't usually do music but someone atmy work mentioned the Arctic Monkeys concert coming to town and the opportunity for an interview and I begged my boss."

He tries to quail his quickened heartbeat but she isn't making it simple. None of this is simple and he's gone dazed and crazed. He must have. "I can't believe you're here. You're in front of me. I feel like you're so calm and I've completely lost it."

"Well, I knew I would be seeing you again for about a month and I tried to regain my cool in front of the bathroom mirror for about 45 minutes. Do you want to go do that?" She points behind her to the toilets with a dream-inducing grin. She's proud of that joke.

"I might have to. Go in there and se branler." He motions jerking off loosely with his hand and it gets that precious fucking laughter out of her.

"You remember any French other than that?"

He gives a quick shake of his head. "No, not really." Prompting more laughter from her. He stares at her, giving her a thorough examination. "I can't fucking believe it. It's been 11 years, you know, how fucking crazy is that?"

"Don't tell me that." She rests her forehead in the palm of her hand. "I'm still trying to deal with turning 30 and that was 2 years ago."

He's amused by her. It's 11 years ago and yesterday for him. He feels they've snapped right back into place. No time has shifted and they are 21 again and this is what life would have been like if they had July in Paris. "So, you finally figured out your life," he recalls her ramblings. Revels in them.

She shrugs. "For the most part. It took a while but we're here. It was kind of, well, our day in Brussels helped point me in that direction. You probably don't remember"—he remembers everything, seriously—"but you made this compliment about how I had all these good questions or something and I thought, after you, well, told me about the whole band thing, and I figured out how big you actually were that I could do that for a living. Interview people. I don't usually do rockstars though not since you."

A thumping rings in his red-hot ears. He tries to take a deep breath and has to try several times. "What do you usually do?"

"Mainly the art section. I go to at least a dozen gallery openings every week but I love it."

"It sounds perfect for you. You helped me understand Magritte."

She smiles with pride. "You always had a keen eye. I only pointed you in the right direction."

He lets out a puff of air loudly and shakes his head. He doesn't look down at his hands but already knows they're shaking. "I'm sorry. I just can't fucking believe you're in front of me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

She giggles. "I didn't really either."

He becomes a tad solemn as he leans on his hand, closer to her. "Can I ask you something?" She nods. "Why didn't you come to the Paris show?"

She leans back in her chair and her demeanor shifts. She's remorseful-looking and toying with her hands. He supposes that habit has stayed the same. "I wanted to. I tried to be but I had got into this journalism program in Boston. I saw you there but I didn't think you'd want to see me after ditching you in Paris. I didn't really know how to get backstage or anything either. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. Why did you think I wouldn't want to see you?"

She tries to hide her face. "I swear I wasn't searching you up every night and stalking you but I saw you and your girlfriend back then, uh, Alexa. Didn't want to impose on anything because that was back when I didn't have the belief of women and men being friends."

"Like Harry Burns? I'd want to see you no matter what." He doesn't want to admit to her how hurt he was by her not showing up in Paris. How her name had been on every backstage list for the Favourite Worst Nightmare tour. Let alone that embarrassed trolling around Paris he had done. His start with Alexa, however serious that relationship ended up becoming, was rooted in getting over Lottie. He still hadn't fully dealt with that last part. Not until she sat in front of him and he realized.

"I had a different mind at 21," she explains. "I changed therapists."

He throws his head back in laughter. "What was the final straw?"

"Well." Her eyes drift away from his, looking down at her locked hands. "Moving to America was the main reason. I couldn't deal with any more defense of porn-addict boyfriend."

Alex takes a sip of his coffee, forgetting its bitterness, but enduring it to indulge in her sweetness. "She never let up on that one?"

"Not really."

Lottie orders a cappuccino and Alex, unsure of what to do, says, "You know, I have a concert later tonight."

"I know. I'm gonna go if that's alright. For the article and everything." She says it like she's informing him, rather than asking for permission.

"Well, I don't have to be at the venue for another couple of hours and I've never really gotten the chance to explore Paris." The smile that spreads across her face tells him she knows what he is thinking.

She snickers, "I should get a flat day rate for being your tour guide."

He leans forward on the little cafe table between them. "Come on, I'll give an exclusive. Complete unabridged day with a rockstar."

She giggles. "My boss would be very mad if I didn't take that."

"Perfect." He means every bit of that. His 21-year-old self's fantasies are finally coming true. Imagining life as it truly should have been. He thinks how much he has changed since then. How much he has stayed the same. She's stayed the same in his mind. A ghostly presence in his mind. An angel that came and visited for a day. She looks much of the same, especially compared to his differing appearance. Longer hair, less scrawny, light stubble regrowing post-goatie. He's grown into himself more, no longer an awkward boy under a hoodie. He's getting hot under his suit jacket. "So, what have you been up to the past 11 years?"

George points a finger at him. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you questions?"

He smirks and leans back in his chair. "No, see that's part of the deal. You tell me what you've been doing for the past decade and answer all my questions and I might tell you exclusive material. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain."

She raises an eyebrow but smiles and nods. "Let's see the last 11 years. I mean, I lived in Boston for 5 years. About 5 years too many."

"Why? Did you hate it?"

She tilts her head back and forth in an indifferent gesture. "It's a nice city but I don't think I belong in America. I fell into a fantasy there. By the time I had been there 5 years, I felt I had been living a lie the whole time. You know, I didn't like my apartment or my friends or even my job and I was 26 and it was either change my shit now or live like this for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, yeah. I feel that now. I've been out in LA for about 5 years now but had never really settled until this past year. I loved it my first year. It was so different than anywhere I've ever lived but last year was the first time I had been there a full year and I think I hate it."

"America's a mess now anyway. I couldn't imagine living in LA. It doesn't seem fun."

Alex shrugs. "I like it but I think I've fallen away from it. And everywhere is a mess now anyway. Brexit's happened and England's a mess and I haven't even lived there fully since 2008 but part of me thinks I'd like it."

"When I moved back to Paris after Boston, I felt my whole body realigned and I'm not one for that energy crap but I think there has to be something to these places because I immediately felt a relief I had never felt in Boston." His head is filled with thoughts of telling her, I know exactly what you mean, I feel it right now looking at you.

"Maybe after this next tour but I don't know if me girlfriend would do it. She already moved out to LA for me. I'd feel shitty making her move to a whole other country."

"Is she American?"

He nods, even though he has a feeling she already knew that but she's trying not to seem like she already has all the answers to him already from her research. "You seeing anyone?"

Her face crosses. "Kind of." Her resolve breaks with a laugh. "God, how embarrassing is it that I'm 32 and kind of in a relationship?"

"I think you're fine. 32 is still young. You don't have to worry about that for another decade."

She leans forward with intensity, the same level she had at 21. "Except, I'm getting down to the wire here as far as having children." He throws his head back in laughter. It's nice to know that she hasn't changed a bit in 11 years. "I'm serious. And, I know, I know, science is so advanced these days and there are millions of children to adopt and blah blah blah but I don't want to be a 50-year-old pregnant woman or a single mother. I mean, I'm not opposed to it but I don't think there's anything wrong with having the fantasy of the nuclear family. Except I don't know if I really want that or that's just societal pressure I'm feeling."

It's deja vu for him of the romantic nostalgia variety that if he could package it into a pill and take it as a prescription forever, he would. "You said the same thing in Brussels."

She groans in frustration. "Great, so I'm a broken loop. I'm a woman moaning about men and babies. I put shame on all the feminist icons."

He waves his hand at her. "I think you're fine and it's nice to know how you feel about these things, even if it's the same. I feel that way right now."

"With children?"

"Yeah, I mean, most of me friends have settled. Everyone in the band has kids and I don't know if I want that. Me girlfriend wants that, I think, but I can't imagine touring and having kids at home. I still feel too young to have kids or to get married."

She groans, "Yuck. Don't even get me started on marriage."

"Don't believe in it?"

"I don't want to. I think if I was with someone who really wanted it then maybe but when I was engaged it felt like such a doomful thing."

She nonchalantly says it but he needs to know. "You were in engaged?"

Lottie gives a small head nod and sips her cappuccino. The subject is still an odd one for her. "For about 6 months in 2012. It was a disaster, to say the least, mostly on my part. He was a good guy but I was too immature to settle and he was the last thing keeping me in Boston. Once that ended, I came back to Paris."

"You were engaged to an American?" He leans forward with intrigue. It shocks him for some reason. 

She furrows her brows. "Aren't you dating an American?"

"Yeah, but it's different," Alex excuses.

"How?"

There isn't actually a difference other than bubbling jealousy but he can't admit that. So, he shrugs. "I'm a lowly Brit and you're a sophisticated French girl dating an American, let alone one from Boston."

She tilts her head in slight agreement. "He was awfully rowdy."

"Was he a big Red Sox fan?" Alex jokingly asks.

She sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. "Yuck, don't talk to me about baseball. Sports is the primary reason I left. His family had season passes and it was like the Salem Witch Trails if you didn't go to every game."

"See this is why I can't picture you engaged to an American."

"Fair point," she says. "What about your girlfriend?"

"Oh." He doesn't know why he's taken aback by the question. It makes him stir with guilt. It's not that he doesn't love his girlfriend, he has a fucking tattoo with her name, but suddenly Lottie sits down in a cafe in Paris across from him and he is thrown. 

"She's great." He stops there but then Lottie stares at him and he realizes he's being short. He stares down at his cup. "She's—she's funny, beautiful, and very lovely." The description doesn't exactly help his case.

She doesn't push him any further. In fact, she smiles, and says, "She sounds nice. I'm sure you don't deserve her."

Alex chuckles initially at the comment but it grows painful inside of him. He struggles to digest it and the words weigh heavy as it turns from a joke into the truth. He shakes it off as best he can. "Who is this 'kind of' relationship?"

She sighs loudly. "We met at this weird work function. He works as a freelance photojournalist and travels to these warzones for months at a time and then he'll be here for a month or 2 before heading off again."

"Wow," Alex utters. How can I compete with a warzone photojournalist who is kind of her boyfriend? He shakes it. You don't need to compete because you have a fucking girlfriend, you idiot. "That's cool." Idiot.

"Yeah." She displays a similar demeanor as him: outmatched with no chance of catching up. "It's—he's a good guy. He does this incredible work but I can't help but constantly feel undercut by him. It's not his intention but—no offense to you—I'm telling him about some avant-garde art show I just reviewed and he's like 'That's great, I'm photographing Syrian refugee camps.' You feel like a complete loser next to him."

"You're helping keep art alive and maybe I'm stroking me ego too much but isn't that what we need during all these shitstorms? It feels like the only thing keeping me sane at times."

She leans forward onto her hand and smiles and, fuck, he feels his heart skip a beat. He can't shake her off of his skin, off his mind, off his heart. If he was a smart guy—a good guy—he'd do the interview, and leave. Play the show and leave France. Go home to his girlfriend and leave Lottie as a fantasy in his mind for the rest of his life. But then he thinks about his 21-year-old self who swore he wouldn't let her become that to him. Someone he would lie awake at night and imagine what life would be like if he got her. She's danced in and out of his mind through the years, but he'd be lying if he didn't think about what would have happened if she showed up in Paris. She got on that London-bound train. If they exchanged fucking phone numbers. He can't lie awake and think what would have happened if he didn't shun her. "Do you want to walk around now maybe?"

"Sure." She eagerly stands up.

She opens her bag and takes out her wallet. He holds his hand out. "You have to let me pay for your coffee, at least. I never paid you back for the hotel." The thought of the hotel room sends shivers down his spine. 

Alex tosses a few bills to cover the check and then some. She giggles, "You finally have Euros."

He shrugs with a hidden smirk too shy to show him how pleased he is that she remembers. Even if it's his dorky mistake. "A little more prepared this time."

They exit the cafe into the Latin Quarter with Lottie leading the way to their next location. Their pace is the same as it was in Brussels. In step with one another through talks of one another's lives. 

"What has the last 11 years been like for you?" She returns his question to him. "I mean," she admits, "I know some of it."

Alex narrows his eyes at her. "You've been keeping tabs on me, Lottie?"

She breaks eye contact away from him and shrugs but the smile that breaks through tells him everything he needs to know. He gets too much of a kick of that. "Well, you're not the easiest to avoid. I also did get really into your music after, you know, Brussels and all."

It pleases him until a realization drops his heart into his gut. He looks for a display of any reaction on her face but she keeps steady and walks ahead. He won't say it if she doesn't. Maybe she doesn't even know. Maybe only he paid attention to that kind of thing. Maybe only he paid attention to their hotel room number.

"I mean," he exhales loudly. "Everything you know is probably the extent."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, in the last 11 years all you've done is music. That's not true."

And, sure, it's not, but it kind of is. He doesn't want to tell her about his ex-girlfriends and he doesn't need to indulge her in whatever stupid stories he has of LA. "I think it is. It sounds pretty depressing, doesn't it?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. You're living a pretty cool life. Unless you don't see it that way."

"No, it's just..."

"What?"

"I feel like I've been in the same place since I was 21. I'm stuck in some cycle that I can't stop. I know I've changed and I've had experiences. I mean, I lived in New York for a little and I've been in LA for a while but when you're touring for more than a year at a time for pretty much a decade, it's hard to feel significant changes."

"I feel the same way since moving back to Paris."

"Really?" It's hard to feel like anyone knows how he feels. Everyone around him has had big life changes and he feels...the same.

"Boston was a whirlwind but it was my 20s. Now, I get up and go to work every day and I go home and repeat it. I have friends and we go out for dinners but I'm not getting married, I'm not having children, and I'm not visiting Antarctica. I'm still. For years, I liked that feeling but now..."

He finishes, "You feel stuck."

"Yeah. I swear I'm not depressed. I'm not going to throw myself in the Seine or anything."

He chuckles. "No, no. I know what you mean. It's just growing pains."

"Pft," she says, "at 32 I thought that would be over with."

"I don't think it ever goes away."

"At least I'm not getting zits anymore."

"Small victories."

She points her finger out. "There's this park, the Luxembourg Gardens, down the road. It's beautiful if you'd like to go."

And just like before, where she leads, he will follow.

"My father died last year," she tells him.

He isn't sure what to say. For the first time, he touches her, places his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and shrugs. "No need. I never really knew him."

"Oh," he says, "I didn't know that." He suddenly realizes that the perception he had of Lottie for the last decade has been shaped by one day, not even a full 24 hours. A time they spent together where he didn't even know that she never knew her father. 

"Yeah, I never—I don't talk about it very much. I feel like I've finally started to work through some of the childhood trauma shit that I swept under the rug for so many years. My parents' relationship was complicated."

"In what way? I don't mean to be nosy—"

She interrupts to reassure, "Never. You never are." She smiles over at him like a sunray. "I like telling you these things. It feels like a vessel I can put it in and send out to sea. I know you'll never tell another soul, right?"

He motions locking his lips and tossing the key. It makes her giggle and he forgot the thrill he got from doing that.

"My father was married when my maman had my brother and me. Never divorced his wife. I have a half-sister I've never met. She's like 20 years older than me."

Alex doesn't mean to have a visible reaction but he can't help but utter, "Wow."

"Yeah." She slips her hands into her jeans' pockets. "I don't know. I've been trying to work my way through all of it. I think I feel grief over it but I'm not sure if I'm mourning his death or the potential relationship we could have had."

"I don't know. I've never been in that type of situation with death. You know, the finality of everything. But with people that I've drifted away from, I imagine all these what-ifs." It's hard to ignore the person he's talking about is right next to him. "What I could have done differently to make them stay or like me or whatever but I've realized that no matter what you do it doesn't change the way the other person is. With your dad, I can't imagine not wanting to know you. Something must have been wrong with him."

"Probably," she agrees before laughing. The thickness of the conversation is split in two as they both laugh lightness into the air.

"So, you just grew up with your brother and mother?" Alex asks.

Lottie pulls a face, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips. "I wish. My mom had her series of boyfriends. Some better, some worse. Nothing bad and she never married any of them but it was a weird revolving door. The longest one was the British diplomat. That's why my English is so good. Well, if I do say so myself."

"I still can't speak a lick of French so you're 1000 times better than me."

"I can't help it if I'm so fabulous," she jokes as she skips into the gardens. He's left watching her cheer from six paces behind. Mirth floods him and he feels a snap inside him like a glowstick coming to life. She's lit him up all over again. Prescribed him exactly what he needs. If he was smart, he'd leave now. He got his fix and he should go to the concert venue and leave it at that. He walks into the Luxembourg Gardens.

Alex follows her as she walks through the green parterre of gravel and lawn. The area is decently populated but the wide expansion of the park prevents any crowding. He can't stop staring at the back of her. It's not in some sexual desire way. He's not staring at her ass. He's not really focused on one area. He watches the way her trainers plant their way into the ground. The way her bandana flutters from the wind. The way her hair moves slightly side-to-side with each movement. He wonders if she takes him in this way. Noticed the way his loafers tap into one another every once in a while when he's walking. The way his hands are in his jacket to prevent the wind from blowing it around. The way he has had to keep pushing his hair behind his ears.

Then, she stops and sits in one of the metal chairs they have, Alex sits across from her, and she says, "Your hair is longer."

Witch! She must be psychic. He pushes his hair behind his ear again as if on instinct. "Yeah, that's different. It's changed a lot through the years."

"Yeah, I know. The quiff was a funny one."

"Are you mocking me?" He leans closer and teases. 

She giggles. "No, never."

"You don't look too different to me."

She scrunches her face up and scoffs, "Yeah, how plain am I."

Alex shakes his head slowly. "Not plain. You don't need to change anything about you. You were beautiful then and you're beautiful now." He's trending in territory he shouldn't but it makes her smile, like really smile. She turns her head away from him and covers her mouth with her hand.

"Whereas you still look ugly," she mocks with a smug smile.

His jaw opens dramatically. "You are mean, Lottie."

"I'm kidding," she reassures. "You've always been a charming-looking man."

"You make it sound like I'm some dandy."

Her face twists up again. "What's that?"

"A dandy?" She nods. "For once, I know something you don't."

"You know many things I don't."

"Yeah, right."

"I can't carry a tune to save my life. In fact, I should win an award for not attempting to ever play music."

"I don't know. I think if you applied yourself to it you could be good."

"Are you trying to recruit me to your music school, Mr. Turner?" It's the first time she's said his last name ever and he realizes he doesn't know hers.

"You could be a good triangle player." She punches his arm when he says that. He asks, "What's your last name?"

She smirks. "Guess."

"I don't know. Something really French."

"No. Guess."

"I don't know," he says again. "Something like Bonaparte or whatever."

"No. Guess."

"We're going to be here all day if you don't at least help me narrow it down."

She grabs hold of his face, hands on his cheeks, which are growing embarrassingly rosy. "My last name is Guess."

His face drops. "Wait. Your last name is Guess. Charlotte Guess."

"Yes and ew. Don't call me Charlotte."

He sighs loudly, "I don't know, Charlotte. You put me through a lot of trouble there."

She relinquishes her hold on his face and leans back in her chair. He's unnerved by how the cold rushes to his body as soon as she isn't close. "You'll manage."

She oozes cool, always has. She props a leg up on the chair and leans back with such freeness that wasn't there 11 years ago. She's not twisted up inside, she looks relaxed. He wants to ask her how to get there. Lately, he's felt like knots of stress. Any effort to dissipate has been met unsuccessfully because he can't put a finger on what's causing all of it.

"You know," she says, "I do have to interview you at some point."

He waves her off. "I know, I know, but I'm still adjusting to the fact that I'm seeing you right now. I want to know more about you."

That hint of a smile comes back to her cheeks. "Like what?" The tip of her shoe knocks on his shoe and he isn't sure what to make of it. Looks down and wishes he could take a photo of it.

"Do you still paint?"

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head in disbelief. "You remember that I paint?"

Alex doesn't see it as a big deal. Why wouldn't he remember all those little things? "Yeah, and you're a decent cook, right?"

"Jesus," she lets out under her breath. A quickened heart rate and a brush of pink to her cheeks. "I don't even think my mother remembers I paint. I still do it from time to time. I was never very good at it."

He shakes his head. "I doubt that."

"You never seen anything I've painted."

"I don't need to see it to believe it. If you think it's bad it's probably better than what most people, including myself—especially myself—can do."

"Well, maybe if you're lucky I show you something."

"I'd like that." He hates how much he'd like that. "What do you paint?"

She shrugs. "This. That. Abstract kind of things. I like painting faces but I'm not very good at that. I get the proportions all mixed up."

"Like Magritte or something?" He chuckles.

She shakes her head. "Not quite. More like that botched restoration of that Jesus painting."

Alex can't help but think of the two of them standing before A Stroke of Luck and the cigar, but not a cigar painting (so, screw him, he can't remember the name of it). His mind can't help but reminisce on them in the park sitting in the grass afterward. Lottie, delicate and cherubic, picking flowers to place behind his ear, and then, kissing her. If he reaches out into the memory, he can practically still feel his hands on her skin. 

"Do you want to go to another art museum?"

"What like the Louvre?"

"Sure."

She laughs. "I am not going to the Louvre."

But Alex is already standing and reaching his hand out to her. "Come on, I've never been."

She sighs and places her hand in his. It's soft like a baby's freshly washed skin. His hand feels rough against the smooth surface, callouses old and new can be felt. Alex pulls her up out of her chair and they begin to walk to the park's exit. "How have you never been to the Louvre?"

"I've never had time," he explains. "Generally when I've visited Paris it's been for a limited number of days."

"But didn't you record the album in La Frette? Couldn't come in on a day off for the Louvre?" She's still holding his hand. He's not being responsible, he knows. 

In fact, he's passed irresponsible when he leans in close to her ear and says, "I missed when you didn't know anything about me."

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm the one taking you to the Louvre at 1 in the afternoon with no tickets. I think you can manage the sacrifice."

"You must go all the time considering your job," Alex says.

Lottie says, "Oh, I haven't been to the Louvre in over a decade," before bursting out into laughter.

"And you're shaming me for having never gone?"

She lets go of his hand and wags her finger at him. "Hey, I have at least gone. Multiple times! And the Louvre isn't exactly a place getting new and upcoming art all the time." She drops her hand back down to her side. Their hands never re-intertwined. "The last time I went I was 17 and I made out in the staircase with Alain Millardet the whole time."

"So, you really saw all the sights." He follows her directions as they cross the street.

Lottie gags from the memory alone. "He was a horrible kisser and we ended up getting caught by an employee. They told our school—our Catholic school, by the way—and it was the only time I ever got in trouble. The only thing that lessened the blow was that my maman was away with her boyfriend and never found out."

"You were a goody-two-shoes in school," Alex teases.

Lottie squishes up her face. "What does that mean?"

He grins at the way her little button nose is scrunched up, her eyes slightly squinted, the wrinkle formed between her brows. "Just means you're a rule follower."

"Oh." She giggles. "I just didn't get caught." Every inch of her intrigues him. The secrets she has buried deep within that he has an eagerness to uncover. The flip of her hair as she walks her way down the streets. Her hands clutch the brown leather strap of her bag. Those blue eyes glancing over at him as ripples of laughter echo through her.

They begin to cross over the Seine when she tells him, "This is the Pont des Arts. It used to be covered in locks, you know, the thing where couples put a lock on the bridge and throw away the key, but they had to remove it after the bridge nearly collapsed, which thank god because I had one with my ex-boyfriend on it and I couldn't bear the thought that we would be locked here together eternally."

Alex chuckles and puts his hands in his pockets. "Me first girlfriend did that with the lock she used for her locker. At the end of the school year, she wrote our names on the back and locked it to a fence. About a month after we broke up, I walked by the fence she'd put it on and it was gone. She had gone back and removed it."

"Aw," she coos, "poor girl. You probably broke her heart."

"Thanks for your lack of pity for me, Lot." She grins at the nickname. "How do you know she didn't break my heart?"

"Because only a heartbroken girl would go back and remove the lock."

"Yeah."

Alex gazes up and spots the glass pyramid, realizing they've already made their way to the Louvre. The courtyard is populated with people taking pictures of and with the structure. Someone is playing violin, likely busking, in the distance. 

As they approach the building, Lottie gasps and then begins to laugh. "What?" Alex asks with a hint of his own reactive laughter.

She gives him a funny frown. "It's Tuesday, isn't it?"

Alex confusedly responds with a dragged-out "Yeah."

She snickers. "The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays."

They both just take to laughing in the middle of all the tourists. Lottie clutches his forearm, which he reciprocates, making their arms plank over each other. Then, Lottie suddenly stops, stands up straight, and looks him in the eye, saying, "Time for me to interview you."

 Alex chuckles, "Nice try." He takes to guiding them out of the courtyard, walking ahead of her. "Where to next?"

She's right behind him. Alex can feel the edge of her bag touch his butt. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

The pleasure he gets out of taunting her should probably be illegal. "You'll get your interview," he promises. "I've already given you so much unknown information. I've never been to the Louvre, still to this day, my French is horrible, and I'm desperate to see some art so why don't you show me some of yours."

They pause at a crossing. "Are you trying to invite yourself to my apartment?" She has a habit of making him flustered easily. Her fluttering lashes flapped away at him. He swears they blow an ocean breeze his way.

He plays a tricky game. "Well, if we go to your apartment, maybe you'll finally get your interview." The light flashes green and he walks ahead.

She trails behind fighting a crooked grin. "I highly doubt that."

Alex hums.

Either way, they headed off in the direction of her place. Down the stairs to the metro where they wait for the 4 train. The platform is sparsely crowded, predictable for a Tuesday afternoon just before rush hour. 

"I have to say something." Her demeanor is coy. She's holding her hand in a fist up against her mouth. Her eyes peer up at him demurely. "I've been debating whether to say it or not but I figure out with it. No secrets, you know."

Alex nods curiously. "Okay."

"The song."

The two words make a chill go through him. Spins around his spine and hits each vertebrae. She does know. He can't help but physically react, muttering, "Oh, god," and placing his hand on his forehead in exasperation.

She giggles at his reaction. He is only calmed by the fact that she doesn't sound pissed. Still, he feels embarrassed. "It's one of your most popular songs."

Alex doesn't care. He lived up off the hope that she had somehow missed that one. Or she only ever listened to the most recent album for her work assignment. When he wrote it, it was felt under the impression he would see her again. Not under the impression that in 11 years he would be standing on a metro platform with her about to be interviewed by her. 

He re-establishes himself. He gets his footing, drops his hand from his face, and looks over at her. She's still looking amused by his reaction. The train pulls up to the station. "Which one?"

He is able to get a chuckle in when her jaw drops slightly. Feeling he has the upper hand, he hops on the train, having her dash behind him. Alex finds two empty seats and takes a seat next to the window. Lottie sits down next to him.

She seems to have composed herself. Tight jaw and curious lips. "Now, I meant 505, what are you on about?"

Alex shrugs. "Pft, who said 505 was about you?" He is staring straight ahead, calm, cool, and collected.

Her eyes are glued to him, watching his every move. "I'm not an idiot, Alex, I can read. Our hotel room was 505."

"Oh, what a weird coincidence." He is almost chuckling with pride in his humorous fibbing abilities. 

"Come on. I doubt many girls were lying on their side with their hands between their thighs for you, Alex." That memory strikes him hard. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can still trace the outline of her body in his mind, memorizing every crevice.

He chuckles with a wide grin. "It was a nice memory."

She crosses her arms in a pleased manner. "I knew it was about me."

"Yeah, well, I had a lovely time with you." His eyes are intently on hers. A knowing smile is splashed across his face. 

She returns the favour. They are in a duel with their eyes, fighting grins in their smiles. "Me too."

"Good."

She leans in closer. "Now, what's this other song about me?"

Alex looks away from her, gazing at the station they are approaching. "I think this is our stop."

He tries to stand up and she grabs his arm and yanks him back down. "Shush. You have no clue where we are even getting off."

Her hand stays gripping his forearm, keeping them steady. His gaze is resistant if ever pleasurable. His eyes trained on the doors and unsure of what to say, tossing between giving it up or burying it away. He plays with his hands, bringing them together, and then apart, and then back together. "I wrote this song, you know, in the, uh, hypothetical sense."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, whatever that means. Out with it. You know, people are usually flattered by the thought someone would think of them enough to write a song about them. Let alone two."

"Alright," he calms. "The song isn't really all about you. I guess, you sparked the original idea."

She gestures for him to continue. "And?"

"Cornerstone."

She leans back against the train's wall. A small smirk plays on her face. "Really? You were seeing me all around town?"

He can't help but smile, although, forced to shield it behind his hands covering the surface area of his face. "Don't make me sound like a creep."

"No, no. It all feels like flattery." She looks like she wants to say something else but keeps it to herself. He's tempted to ask but she's pointing slowly to the train station and softly saying, "This is our stop."

They get up as the train stops. The doors stay closed though. "Flip the handle up," Lottie says.

He grabs hold of the door handle and follows her instructions. The door opens at a quick speed. So quick that Alex, still with his hand on the handle, nearly gets his arm yanked off. Lottie erupts in laughter behind him. He sucks in a breath and steps off the train. She places her hands on his shoulder as she follows behind him, too blind with laughter to properly guide herself. 

"You're really making a fool out of me today." Alex turns around as they ride the escalator up.

She's still emitting giggles when she says, "I'm sorry. It was too tempting though."

Her apartment is just outside the metro station. The building, Haussmann in style, is cold and dark in the stairwell. Lottie tells him to watch his step as they head to the second floor before she flips on a switch outside her door. Before she unlocks it, she turns and tells him, "I'm a messy person and you have rudely barged in on me so you can not judge."

Alex agrees and she unlocks the door. She has, of course, exaggerated the mess of the place. It's a loft of a decent size. Her bed is in the far corner, unmade with a plum-coloured mandala-printed blanket thrown over it. Clothes from this morning are strewn about the floor. Her kitchen is small and her plate from breakfast is still in the sink. In the back corner, across from her bed is a collection of canvases. They are all turned inward making him unable to look at any of them.

Lottie stands awkwardly in the kitchen, hands behind her back, bobbing on her feet. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water? Alcohol?"

He chuckles at her delivery, struck by her grace. "I'll take a tea."

"Okay." She busies herself with that as he examines the room closely. A shelf of books piled to the brim. There's a vase of flowers on a lower shelf. On the bottom: a record collection. He smiles to himself. "Can I put on a record?"

"Sure," she absentmindedly says. She's showing Alex her tea packets: black, green, mint, ginger. Black, he picks. 

She stills at the opening strings. Her heart patters at the clacking of the castanets. I found my love in Portofino...

She dips the tea bags into the hot water and turns around. She leans against the counter, staring at him at the place he has taken on her small loveseat. "You know, I got a record player because of this album."

His arms are crossed and he looks pleased with himself. "Inspiring a new generation to buy records. You know, AM is one of the best-selling vinyls of the 2010s."

She squints playfully. "Are you usually this boastful about yourself?"

"Stop, you're making me feel like a self-absorbed asshole."

Lottie crosses her arms, playing his game back to him. "What's the saying? If the shoe fits."

"Hush now. Sit." He pats the seat beside him. The air is thick and she cuts through it by walking over to him with two cups of tea. 

She prompts hopefully, "Interview time?"

Alex ignores her. "You know, I went and bought my own copy of this."

"The record?"

He nods. "God, I'm such a dweeb."

She shakes her head. "No. It's a good record."

He gazes over at her knowingly. His chin is tilted down and his eyes are blazing at her. "I didn't buy it because it was a good record."

Suddenly, she breaks. "You can't do that."

Alex gets the message, turns away, and focuses on the warm mug in his hand. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No," she reassures, calm and clear, "it's fine. I just can't sit next to you in my apartment with you saying things like that and not..."

"Not?" He tries to get more out of her.

She gazes over at him knowingly. Her chin is tilted down and her eyes are blazing at him. "You know."

He nods.

"I still have that photo of you. The one I took on that hill. It's buried deep in a drawer somewhere." She's tempting him and she knows it. She's not abandoning the topic of their romantic evening. She's not insisting on conducting an interview. She's flirting.

Alex smiles back pleased. "I probably look like a dork."

"Yeah," she dryly agrees making him laugh. "But a cute dork."

"Whenever I came to Paris, I would walk around, duck into all these cafes, and I had these visions of seeing you there. That's where Cornerstone came from," Alex confesses.

"I changed therapists because of you," Lottie confesses.

"What?"

She leans on her arm against the back of the couch. "It wasn't because I moved away. I came back from Brussels and told her about you and she said that you were a fantasy but not a realistic man. I shouldn't get my hopes up on delusions and should invest myself in some reliable man. That I was falling for a rockstar who probably did that thing all the time. The whole time she's saying this to me, I'm thinking, 'She has no fucking clue what she's talking about. Reliablity? Who has reliability at 21? My porn-addict boyfriend.'"

Alex laughs. "I still really love this porn-addict boyfriend of yours."

"Well, you and my therapist." The room goes quiet. She sinks into a corner of the couch and sighs. "So, you were the final straw."

"I've done that cafe shit every time I've been to Paris."

"What?" She sits up straighter.

"I just—I've always wanted to talk to you again. It felt weird when you didn't show up in July. I figured, or maybe hoped, something big happened for you not to be there."

She's stiff and awkward and looks down at her legs, awkwardly stiff. "I tried to be there. I wanted to. You have to know, if it weren't for the program, I would've. I mean, I still go to your shows, and listen to your records, and, for crying out loud, I harrassed my boss into letting me interview you. He probably thinks I'm some obsessive fan."

"Harrassed?" He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Lottie looks up sheepishly with a shy smile. "Yeah, well, at this rate, I'm not even gonna have an interview."

"You'll have an interview. I'll give you the best fucking interview." There's something in the way he looks at her. The tone of his voice makes her believe he is a lion and she's the gazelle he's waiting to maul. But those eyes, soft and dreamy. Eyes she could fall asleep next to every night.

"And then you look at me like that and you think you're the soppy one. I'm falling to bits over here. I've felt crazy for 11 years but then you look at me like that."

"Why'd you feel crazy?"

"I thought I made the whole thing up in my head. Like I was some psycho who imagined a whole night with you just because I liked your song. I mean, I ruined every relationship because I was hung up on you."

"What?"

"And now I'm ruining any possible relationship with you by blabbing on about this. I can't help it, you've infected me, you've ruined me, and I sound crazy." She's messing with her hair to really emphasize this fact. "But I'm stuck on the Boston T, riding the slowest train ever, sitting next to this guy I'm about to marry, and we have nothing to talk about, and all I'm thinking is 4 years ago I got on the wrong train." 

Her breathing is heavy. Rattling and refusing to calm her heart down. She can't distinguish what his eyes mean.

Alex is quiet when he speaks. "Fucking hell, Lot."

Any move he thinks about making is interrupted when she quickly stands from the couch and separates herself from him by pacing in the kitchen. She clutches her hands around her face, cheeks trying red. She takes a deep breath and says, "I think you should leave. I'm sorry for that whole display. I'm so lost in myself and I'm crazy and I'm sorry."

Alex stands and takes a step toward her. She takes one back like they are the same side of a magnet repelling one another. "Lottie."

"I'm sorry."

He takes a moment for himself too. Runs his hands through his hair, heart pounding he puts his hand over to still it and takes a deep breath. "No," he insists. "First, you're not crazy. Second, I haven't seen you in 11 years and I have thought about you for too long to let you go—go on that other train again." Something chokes him inside. Maybe it's the guilt, the thought of his girlfriend back home. Maybe it's Lottie, who looks two steps away from crying, and all he can think about is being left on that train platform again. "Third, we have to do the interview."

"Oh, god, that stupid interview." And then he laughs. So, she laughs.

Alex attempts to step toward her again, cautiously like she's a cat he is afraid he is going to scare off. She stays in her place. He leans down and hugs her. She's hesitant but then she hugs back. Tight like they are each a moment away from slipping out of one another's grasp. 

Alex pulls away, but keeps an arm around her back, pushing them toward her front door. "So, let's go eat some lunch and do an interview."

She sniffles and then smiles over at him in a remorseful manner. "Okay."

They head to the cafe on the street corner. The conversation grew lighter and Alex joked that he still didn't get to see her paintings. She countered that she still hadn't interviewed him.

On opposite sides of the table, each holds a cigarette and chats over an ashtray. Lottie asks him questions regarding the album and Alex answers formally, which is almost too proper and comes off more jokey than serious. Nonetheless, she quotes him on it. 

He grows hot and takes his jacket off, halfway through, around the time their dishes arrive. The interview, more-or-less, ends there as they each inhale their meals and split the stack of bread. "I'll be here tomorrow too, you know."

She nods. Of course, she knows.

"We could do the Louvre then."

She smiles with amusement at him. "You're really obsessed with the Louvre."

"I'm determined to go and now to get you to go. Maybe we'll makeout in the stairway and get caught by one of the nuns." The comment is cheeky and they both laugh at it, even if it should hold more guilty weight than it does.

A woman then approaches them. She's old, enough to be someone's great-grandmother. She speaks in French to Lottie, who has grown a furrowed brow, as she repeatably says no to the woman, who holds up a necklace at her. 

"What's she saying?" Alex inquires.

Lottie sighs and says warningly, "Alex."

The woman smiles big and looks over at Alex. She speaks very broken English, but tells him, "Her neck, nothing." She gestures over to Lottie's bare neck, the way her top pulls down (notes of cleavage, but he's got to get his mind out of the gutter), accentuating the bareness of it. Alex has shameful thoughts in remembrance of kissing it. Fuck, he's screwed, if the pull of his pants says anything. The woman holds the necklace high in her hand. "For beauty. Beautiful woman needs beauty."

Lottie begins to speak in French to the woman as Alex wordlessly reaches into his wallet and pulls out a bill. The woman lights up in delight and accepts the €20 as Lottie shakes her head. "Her ears, nothing," the woman tries to push more.

Alex cheerfully says, "No, no, just the necklace. Merci beaucoup." The woman attempts again but Alex ignores her and her English is too poor to keep trying for another sale.

Lottie is staring at him. He can't decipher if it's a look of pleasure or unease. "You shouldn't have done that."

"The necklace is nice and I gave the poor woman some money. Now put it on."

She stays still for a moment but gives in and sits up to accept the necklace. It's simple. A chain with a small blue pendant on the bottom. It matches her eyes. She mutters a thank you, if for the gesture alone. After a few careful tries, she clasps the necklace. "I'll probably get some sort of infection from it."

He chuckles. "Probably."

They sit in silence with one another. They are stuck in the middle of a staring contest where fireworks spark between them. Alex breaks it and looks down at his empty plate, a flush of shyness overcoming him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Are you interviewing me now?" She giggles, pleased with her joke.

"Hey! I let you get all your questions in. It's my turn," he insists.

She relaxes back in her chair and crosses her legs. "Okay."

"What do you think would have happened if you got on the train with me? Or if you showed up to the concert?" 

It draws a rough breath out of her. "We wouldn't have worked out."

His heart stills. It's not the answer he expected. All that wishful thinking that had swirled in his mind for the last 11 years. The feeling that if he had been able to convince her or was able to find her, they'd be living happily ever after. "Really?

She shakes her head. "Are you kidding? I was a mess. I had no idea of a future for myself. I would have been in Paris or Boston and you would have been on the road all the time. I would've definitely been one of those girls who thought you were cheating on her the whole time. I probably would have convinced myself of it and not believed you when you told me the truth. I was born the product of an affair. It is my blueprint to assume every guy I'm with is getting it somewhere else."

Alex feels hungover with guilt at the thought that what he is doing right now might as well be an affair, if only emotionally. He sighs, "Yeah, I mean, I was a mess for like...forever." They both laugh. "Every time I feel like I've gotten my shit together. Something comes along to pull the rug out from under me."

"What's it this time?" She's staring at him, doe-eyed and smiling. 

He can't think of an excuse. So, he's honest. "You."

She's not offended by it. She smiles, though she does try and suppress it. "We should probably go to the venue. Right?"

Alex nods like hiding himself from the Parisian streets will get him out of this mess. Lottie insists on paying the bill, mainly because she isn't paying the bill, her work is. They could take a car over to the venue but Alex is overly enthusiastic about riding the metro over. "I have to redeem my shame. You know, in London we just have the button, so I can't be blamed for not knowing how to open the train door."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

At the venue, Alex gives Lottie a quick introduction to his bandmates. He says nothing more than, "This is Lottie, the journalist," but they all respond with knowing looks. Alex gives her a tour, mostly through her insistence that it would be cool for the article if she could set the scene for the reader. Alex says, "You're a painter with your words." She rolls her eyes and he gives her the tour.

"And a soundcheck, what's that like?" She asks before, you guessed it, soundcheck.

Alex shrugs. He tends to be short with answers for most interviews, but with Lottie it's different. Not once has it felt like he is being interviewed. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. "It's...good. You know, making sure everything works. Good, fun."

She's cheery with her questions like the kid who constantly raises their hand in class but she's endearingly earnest and the way she scribbles notes in her little notepad makes it feel so much more authentic than when someone sits a tape recorder in on their conversation.

She watches soundcheck in the same way. She'll write a little note at the end of each song but then she'll rest in her chair and observe the full play out.

Backstage, Alex separates himself and Lottie from the rest of the group, which is notable. He wishes they were walking around still, escaping all their responsibilities just like they were doing in Brussels. He supposes that's growing up.

Lottie says, "It's good. Last time I was a bumbling clueless girl with no idea of her future. Now, I'm a bumbling clueless woman with no idea of her future."

"Oh, come on, you have a great job. You're interviewing me and that might be one of the hardest tasks ever and you're doing amazing," Alex reassures.

She nods. "I know. I love my job but that's all I have. It's crazy when we were in Brussels, all I wanted was to figure out what I wanted to be. I finally did that and I feel just as lost."

"In what way?"

She thinks for a moment, deciding how she wants to form her words. "I wish I was like my old self more. You know, I used to be so hopeful, so romantic about the world. About myself. About the future. Now, I just think I'm going to be alone forever." She is quick to correct herself. "And—and I don't mean I have nobody. I have a great set of friends. I love my life but when I look toward the future, I see nothing. For so long, I didn't know what I wanted but there were always possibilities. Now, I don't know." 

"I feel the same way," Alex confesses.

Lottie lifts her head in surprise. "Really?"

He nods. "It's what used to be so exciting about my life. Being in a new city every day and being able to set your own path. I still like most of that stuff but I feel behind everyone else in a way. You know, like how all the guys have kids and I don't think I'm ready for kids but should I be ready for kids? Do I want that? To be married? To have a family?"

"I don't think you're ever ready for that kind of thing. You are just ready for the feeling. You'll never be prepared enough for children that's what everyone says but I had a thought a while ago when, well, I had this pregnancy scare, which really was terrifying because the guy I was with is not a guy you want to have children with. My first thought for so long would have been 'I don't want children. I will not be birthing anything in my lifetime.' But when I had this scare, I think I liked the idea. Then, the test was negative and I breathed a huge sigh of relief." Alex chuckles at her dramatics as she talks with her hands. "But for those couple of minutes, I thought that being a mother wouldn't be so bad."

Alex smiles at her. "You'd be a great mother."

She looks up at him, all hopeful and disbelieving. "Do you really think so?" 

Alex nods. "A few anti-depressants and you'll be fine."

Lottie rolls her eyes and raises her hands and starts moving her fingers. "Say stop."

"Stop."

She stops, extending her middle fingers only, flipping him off. 

"That's good. Can I steal that?"

Lottie shrugs. "I don't have copyright on it."

A stagehand comes over and they realize how much time has escaped from them. Alex shuffles fixing his jacket as he stands, going into rockstar mode. "How'd I look?" He imitates a deep voice, gruffly and surly.

She giggles. "Like an asshole."

"You're so kind to me, Lottie."

"Maybe lose the jacket," she advises. Total professional opinion and not because he has three buttons loose on that white button-up that make her crave his skin. She's going too far, she knows, but she's a single woman. It's fine for her to observe.

Alex shakes his head and tightens his hands around the lapels. "I'm going to keep it on just to spite you." (He takes it off 4 songs in).

She walks him up the stairs to the stage but then says teasingly, "I'm going to watch from my assigned seat if that's alright with you."

He chuckles. "I'll look for you in the crowd."

She turns to leave and it's almost like she's fading from him all over again. Sure, they could get drinks after this and there's that rough plan for the Louvre tomorrow, but the image of her back to him walking away strikes something in him. "Hey, Lottie!" He calls out.

Alex catches her before she walks down the stairs. She turns around, curious eyes, curious smile. He's 21 and he's on a train to Brussels. He's 32 and he's in a cafe in Paris. No more what could have been. He knows.

"I think it would have worked out." 

Lottie looks at him from across the wing. He toys with his fingers, hopeful eyes, hopeful smile. She's 21 and she's on a train platform in Brussels. She's 32 and she's backstage at a concert in Paris. No more doubts. She knows.

"I think so too." 

*

a/n: part 3? i don't know. maybe...

[impel-clown]

I have this HC where Crocodile and Mihawk realize that Buggy's wormed his way into both of their hearts when he actually makes them both laugh and they start looking forward to setting eyes on him all the time. What clinches it is when Shanks stops by and Crocodile and Mihawk both get protective and jealous because of the history Shanks shared with Buggy. Buggy just thinks his two "partners" are plotting to murder him.

Mihawk realized it first, that the clown had gone from an annoying, albeit useful, asset to someone he actually wants to spend time with. Crocodile of course, mocks him for this. Here he had thought the greatest swordsman had some taste, he is with Crocodile after all, but liking the clown? Really?? The guy making dicks out of balloons, that's a person Mihawk wants to be with? What a waste of time. But hey, it's the swordsman's life he can do what he wants with it.

And then it's two weeks later and Crocodile is storming into Mihawk's greenhouse, practically his own sandstorm because now he too has feelings for the clown! Oh sure if it was just sex he wanted, that would be one thing! Crocodile wouldn't even flinch if his feelings were just contained to wanting to fuck the "emperor" til he was begging, crying mess. But no! Here he is, a former warlord, wanting to get Buggy things so he can see the other man wear them, wants to hear the clown's stories and jokes because fuck if it doesn't spark something in him. Here he had thought his own tastes were above this! Being with the greatest swordsman in the world? Great! But add an honest to God Clown to that? No, just no! Meanwhile, Mihawk continues to water his tomatoes throughout the rant, only occasionally interrupting to remind Crocodile that if he harms his orchids, he'll have far bigger problems than a crush on a clown, Mihawk will make sure of it.

And for a while, that's that. They don't immediately make a move on Buggy, not ones to make some big grand gesture of feelings. Instead, they'll ease into. After all, they have time. So slowly, their bullying moves onto teasing (and still some bullying, but it's with care). Mihawk sometimes gifts him with fresh produce from his garden. Crocodile offers to train together. Hell, they even go and watch one of the shows he puts on with his crew! They couldn't be any more obvious about their affections.

(Buggy has no idea his feelings are reciprocated and just assumes these are all attempts on his life.)

And then Shanks comes strolling up to the island and Buggy makes the offhand comment that hey, he may loathe the red haired bastard, but at least he appreciates Buggy's company! It takes about thirty seconds of Crocodile and Mihawk sitting in silence after Buggy leaves to realize, that in fact, no they do not have all the time in the world, and that yes, they could have been more obvious with their affections.

The following few days are spent as Buggy's shadow, glaring daggers at Shanks and reminding him that Buggy is a Key component of the Cross Guild, and he can't just come waltzing in here demanding Buggy's attention, thank you very much.

Shanks, having immediately clocked this whole situation, just laughs.

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist / 18+

pairings: modern!boyfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie are very excited to spend 4/20 together. aka just two idiots getting baked and having fun

important note: this is a silly little unserious one-off of my High Tolerance series, dedicated to the best day of the year (other than Halloween)! This could be read as a stand alone but I think my series as a whole is pretty cool and it makes me squeal and kick my feet

warnings: W E E D, just as much fluff as you'd expect, actual smutty behavior, and YES in this one they're a COUPLE now !!!!

wc: 2k

It began the moment you woke up.

At the first indication of your eyelids opening, Eddie was putting an unlit joint in your mouth and carefully sitting a party hat on your head.

“Happy 4-20, Weirdo,” he whispered before presenting you with a cup of coffee. The mug was one of those ridiculous ones from Spencer’s, with a bowl carved in for the sole purpose of smoking while drinking coffee. 

And he packed the bowl. Packed. It.

Taking the joint from your mouth, you said, “Good morning.” It was all groggy and soft, resulting in a quick yawn and your hand lazily reaching for the lighter left on the bedside table. 

“We have a full day ahead of us,” Eddie said as you smoked. “Just you and me engaged in a state of bliss.”

“That’s what she said,” you murmured, smoke escaping your nostrils.

“God, I love you,” he said with a chuckle before taking the mug from your hands. As you got out of bed, he added, “Have I said that?”

“Not today.” 

“Well, I love you,” he said again, following you as you padded through the hallway and into your living room. 

But you stopped in your tracks when you saw a shitty banner strung up on the wall. Just a string holding green balloons with blaze it written out. Oh, and one with a shitty drawing of a weed leaf.

“Okay, I can explain that,” Eddie said, stepping in front of it.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, so there were literally no banners at Walmart, so I made this myself.” He lifted his hands and gestures towards it as if he was presenting it at an art gallery. “Look at that impeccable handwriting.”

“I know, I can actually tell that’s an e,” you agreed, nodding.

Eddie grinned. “You flatter me.” 

“Also, I think I love you more,” you finally said. “Just saying.”

“Uh, that’s false,” he argued, quietly skipping into the kitchen to grab a bag. “Not when you see your present.”

“You got me a present? When?” you asked. The two of you had a rare moment of having both days off together. You’d spent that time in bed watching TV and fucking. A normal day for you now, to be quite honest.

Eddie ran back over. “Jailbait Hemp had an early morning Wake N’ Bake sale,” he explained, presenting you with the bag. “Ballsy move to get me out of bed by eight, but I did it.”

“The bravest soldier,” you said with fake sincerity, putting a hand over your heart and bowing. “I owe you my life, my lord.”

“If you keep talking like that, we may have to play maiden in a tower again.” Eddie took a step forward, one hand on your waist as he put his other over yours. Cleared his throat before dramatically tossing his hair over his shoulder. “It is I, good maiden, that has come to rescue you. To guide you to freedom.”

Matching his straightened posture, you let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, dear prince, you have gone to war for me. How can I show you my appreciation and gratitude?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” he murmured with a smirk, leaning in to kiss you gently. You couldn’t help but return the smile, your palm grazing his stubble as you caressed his cheek. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the plate of cookies you’d left on the counter the night before mostly eaten. A glass sat next to it, the milk gone but a white film left behind.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you nearly moved away. But Eddie wouldn’t let you go that easily.

“Where’d the cookies and milk go, Eddie?” you asked.

“Oh, that?” he said, guilt written all over his face. “Babe, I told you Snoop Dogg would come and eat them.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Saw him with my own eyes,” he continued. “He told me to thank you for making them. He even left you two.”

“Two. Out of the ten that were left over.”

His cheeks tinged with pink as he tried not to laugh. “Snoop Dogg got up to pee, right? And then he saw all those cookies you left out and was like ‘Oh, wow, those look really good for a four-a-m snack. Thanks, bro.’”

But Eddie clearly knew he wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “And he was like, ‘Damn, your girlfriend is just so hot. Sooo sexy. Give her a kiss for me.’”

“Snoop Dogg said that?” you questioned, fighting a smile as you went to wrap your hands around his waist. 

“Mhm.”

You nodded, pulling him closer. “Every word of that, right?”

“Totally. And I told him to back off ‘cause I spent three years trying to date you.”

“Yeah, it ruined my five-year plan, actually,” you said with a smirk, lifting your hands to trace his collarbone. Eddie laughed, but he shivered at your touch. “Could you imagine still being just friends still? Today of all days?”

Eddie shook his head. “Considering I got painfully hard whenever I was around you—still do, obviously.” His eyes flickered down to the growing bulge in his pajama pants. “But I would not have been able to keep my hands off you. You, my dear, are the most outrageously beautiful being to walk this land.”

“Smooth,” you complimented, trying to slow your racing heart. “I may just forgive you for eating my cookies.”

“Remember when we decided to stop smoking?’ You nodded. “And we had an argument in the kitchen?” You nodded again. “I don’t know why, but I wanted to bend you over the counter so bad it was killing me.”

You couldn’t help your goofy grin despite the aching wetness pooling in your underwear. “That’s funny, ‘cause I was thinking the same thing.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“We were eye-fucking each other,” you whispered, letting your hand move up to caress his face again, placing your thumb against his bottom lip. Watched as he opened his mouth willingly for you. 

Eddie’s breathing became staggered, slithering his hands down to cup your ass. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t hot, though.”

“Edging each other for, what, two of those years?”

Pressing you back against the wall dividing the living room and the kitchen, Eddie slotted his thigh between your legs. Lifted one of your thighs to sit at his hip, grinding himself against you. 

Being teased was so much more intense within the haze of your high. Every movement was another wave of pleasure, tipping you further into insanity. And you could tell Eddie felt the same from the way he swallowed, clearly trying to keep his composure.

“I do have you all to myself now, you know.”

He ground against you again, pulling a louder moan out of you. You couldn’t help but push your thumb past his lips, watching his eyes roll back as he sucked on it. Swirled his tongue around the digit..

You two were a dangerous pair.

“Eddie, if you don’t bend me over right now, I think I’ll fucking die.”

You didn’t have to tell Eddie twice.

It was almost impossible how quickly he had you pressed against the wall with his cock out and your underwear shoved down your thighs. You let out a sound of impatience, turning your head to watch him pull a condom from his pocket and roll it on.

Your eyebrows pulled tight in confusion when he pulled out another small packet, this time being lube. He messily pumped it along his length. And, before you could ask any questions, he was lining himself up at your entrance and pushing in. 

And, as he bottomed out, you gasped. 

“Oh fuck,” you whined, head falling back, feeling his wild hair against your face. “Did you have a condom and lube in your pocket the entire time?”

Eddie finally thrusted into you, a high-pitched sound leaving his mouth. “Jesus, sweetheart.” He sighed. “Considering we fuck like rabbits? Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Happy 4-20,” you teased, pushing back on his cock and reveling in the squelching sound and the way his cock buried even deeper inside you.

He gasped, tightening his grip on your hips. “Happy 4-20, baby.”

It took you and Eddie about two more hours to come down from desire, the intimacy too alluring in this state. It had only been six months since you started dating, having nothing but time to make up for. And you’d tried to stop after the first round…and the second. Popped some pizza rolls in the oven and tried to put a movie on. Ended up riding him until the timer was up.

And you would never admit to immediately forgetting they were still in the oven. Though, that was Eddie’s fault for not letting you go until you finished. Always a gentleman, that one.

You ended up in a tank top and a new pair of underwear while he threw on some boxers and one of your cropped t-shirts. Cracked open your windows to air out the joint he bought this morning. Let him crank up the music on his phone as you shimmied your way around the apartment, passing the joint back and forth. It was easy to forget to pace yourselves when he was pulling you close and putting it between your lips.

And it was an easy kind of love, the kind you’d always shared. Everything felt just the same as it had, only needing to remove the tension to fully embrace it. Eddie was always touching you now, no matter where you were. Always doting on you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Steve and Robin always complained that you were lovesick idiots—and they were right, of course. Eddie was always blabbering about your shared future, all the plans that were practically set in stone now. There was no room for doubt or questions. 

“I’m gonna marry you, you know,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, one hand on your exposed hip as you swayed. “Just you fucking wait.”

“Mm,” you hummed, your content smile widening. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

You laughed. “Eddie, you’ve told me that, like, a million times since we became official. You already know I wanna marry you, too.”

“Well, I won’t stop,” he promised. “And we’ll have joints at the reception and everyone will dance and we’ll do karaoke and do that cake shoving thing and I’ll have the sickest vows and it’ll be ridiculously cheesy.”

“You’re gonna cry more than me,” you teased. “A big ole baby.”

He giggled. Eddie fucking giggled. It was the cutest goddamn sound you’d ever heard, knowing that he was as elated by your love as you were. Two goddamn smitten idiots. 

“It’s gonna be fucking amazing,” he said, putting the last of the joint up to your lips. Watched as you took a puff. “And we’re gonna slow dance to the Lord of the Rings theme song.”

That made you laugh which then made you cough, stepping away from him and clutching your stomach. 

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, obviously trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, rushing over to chug the last of your glass of water. Just so you could exclaim, “We are not slow dancing to that.”

“Why not?” he asked, scoffing as he put his unoccupied hand on his hip. “It matches our theme.”

“Our theme?”

“Yeah, like, you’re gonna dress up like Arwen and I’ll be decked out in Aragorn’s sick outfit. It's perfect. What about that don’t you get?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, and let me guess. You think we’re gonna get replicas of that fucking ring.”

Eddie couldn’t help his goofy laughter, tossing the burnt filter onto the counter before taking your hands in his. “Was that not already established?”

“You’re the absolute worst boyfriend to exist,” you teased, moving to brush his nose with yours. Breathing him in, all hazy and at ease.

“Yeah, but I’m a great husband,” he whispered before kissing you once more.

another thanks to the lovely @strangergraphics for helping me with the dividers and the editing. you're the best I love you mwuah

[moonspirit]

ok this has nothing to do with vbeow I swear🤣🤣

so like what if armin and annie get into a huge fight right (whatever it may be) but it’s big enough for them to start giving each other the silent treatment, facing away from eachother in bed etc.

See while armin is taking time to cool down in the coming days, Annie does not bc that woman is a grudge holder! She will hold grudges to the grave if she could!!! (Ex see when she’s probing armin about how he captured her and instigating in the middle of battle bahaha )

she’s even so mad…. that she’s not even horni (GASP)!!!

but you know who is… 😏😏😏 Mr Arlert ,himself !

it’s not intentional in the way of like “oh let’s have sex so we can makeup”, it started gradually as the days passed and her silent treatment hadn’t let up at all like his had. With Annie being even more frigid than usual, all he can do is watch her and THATS precisely what started horni.

Because while she sits combing her hair for the night, he can’t help how his eyes all but follow the fallen strap of her nightgown that slides off her shoulder bit by bit. Just resting on her tricep as the fabric almost teases him of showing him the holy land but never fully slipping off. Or when she’s serving him coffee (begrudgingly) in his office and he catches a whiff of her perfume that he hasn’t had the pleasure of smelling in days. Or when she’s brushed up beside him, her warm chest pressed against his arm bc there’s not enough room for all the ambassadors to go down the elevator comfortably . Or when she reaches for a pen after a meeting when everyone’s gone and it’s just the two of them, she’s stretching out to the other side of the table, arching her back to just reach it because she’s lazy to walk to the other side and he’s just losing it !!!! Etc etc!!

She’s not even aware she’s doing any of this btw she’s just mad af the whole time 😭

so like one day they just come home and he just “I’m sorry I was wrong, please sit on my face!” Lmao

......... I think.... we underestimate the potential of Horny!Armin in this fandom xD

Honestly tho, Aruani are each other's Vitamins C and D and going too long without either is DANGEROUS to their health. Neither of them functions normally beyond a certain point! Each just becomes sadder and angrier and moodier and desperaterererer until drastic measures have to be taken to ensure their survival of these two rare species 🥲

That said... I wonder exactly what Armin did to make her so mad she doesn't even get horni. BOY, just HOW BAD DID YOU FUCK UP?????!!!!

I think post-canon Armin gets quite used to the frequency of Annie's touch (because of how horni she is ofc) that... being actively deprived of it would actually do quite some serious damage to him XD Suddenly she's being a tease with the way she pulls on her clothes without even intending to!!! Her neck is too clean - there's been no hickeys on them for a week!!! She isn't doing his ties! She isn't combing through his hair! He hasn't pulled down the zipper of her skirt in three days??!!!

MALNUTRITION!

Though Annie is also just effortlessly sexy like that and he cannot find the patience or decency to be a gentleman for too long.

... But most importantly... he is one hell of a SAD gentleman 🥲

So the moment he gets the chance, he's kneeling before her like she's god and going:

“I’m sorry I was wrong, please sit on my face!”

[adamnablelittledevil]

The overall colorblidness, microagressive, tone deaf, racially insensitive or however you want to call it behavior of this fandom was already awful enough, but PEOPLE GOING TO A FUCKING PLANTATION, taking pictures with toys (a funko pop of white slave owner Louis btw) as if they're at Disney World and posting it so casually (further info here, here and here)? I don't even think you can go lower than that. That's one of the biggest offenses I've seen on fandom ANYWHERE, of any show/movie/book. I'm appalled.

And I'm glad this escalated enough to the point even British media outlets are writing about this, because WE SHOULD ACKNOWLEDGE IT and people should deal with the consequences of their actions, though I feel for Jacob, Delainey, black fans in general and SPECIALLY NOLA natives will probably see or have already seen this shit. Specially the latter that have to deal with it on a daily basis, because even to this day the generational traumas of their ancestors and themselves are still exploited. The fact they may have WITNESSED IT IN PERSON themselves is disgusting and infuriating.

You wanna learn about racism and slavery in the U.S.? Turn to books and documentaries, if you can't afford them or find any in our country, if you can't ship international products to where you live because access to these things can be complicated sometimes, then read a blog or watch YouTube videos for free (just please check their credentials to know they're reliable and a professional, like an actual historian and check ACTUAL black sources and not white people who may undermine such topics).

You genuinely wanna honor and pay your respects to those people? Then, go to the places YOU'RE ACTUALLY ALLOWED to go, don't focus on taking pictures for social media, just sit down, reflect on where you're standing, pray for those souls, find a local charity that you can donate money to and/or work as a volunteer for a little bit IF YOU REALLY WANT TO HELP, because local communities don't need spoiled individuals who will just be lazy and fillers or cause mess and give them more work to do.

ALSO, shame on people who did see this and said nothing, specially if they spend countless time shitposting, sharing memes or talking about white characters and ships. This happened in late OCTOBER and it's been almost a whole MONTH. And somehow this is only being spread NOW because a British newspaper made an article about it. It should never have happened in the first place, but we should've acknowledged it by ourselves and not just because it went public? If you search the tag, you will LITERALLY ONLY FIND F O U R POSTS ABOUT IT, tops. AND IT'S BEEN ALMOST A FUCKING MONTH. Does this fandom need the Daily Mail or whatever source that was to act with some decency? Are you doing it to look good or out of genuine indignation, respect and empathy for black people, specially NOLA fans? I know some people genuinely didn't know because they avoid certain blogs, tags, block, blacklist and try to curate their dashboards in the best possible way to avoid the mess, follow thousands of blogs and/or a new to the fandom, which is completely understandable, but this WOULD HAVE totally blown up way SOONER if as a collective this fandom cared more. We're talking about some pretty popular accounts, some with 16,000+ followers FOR FUCK'S SAKE. I REFUSE to believe this wouldn't have gone viral sooner if thr fanbase actually wanted to combat racism in the IWTV/TVCverse. Anyway, MAY THIS FINALLY BE THE WAKE UP CALL THIS FANDOM DESPERATELY NEEDS, shamefully way too late, yes, but at least better late than never.

P.S. Sorry if this isn't articulate enough, has mistakes, typos etc, I'm on my phone, English is not my first language and I'm way too pissed to think straight.

[devildomditzy]

Hey 🥰🥰 congrats on the milestone sweetie!! 💕

May I request Mammon + 💐🤗 + “Do you remember when we first met?”

I thought ab making it sfw, something romantic. I think you'll enjoy it. Everything for our hubby hah 💕💕 he's so wholesome! Tbh can't wait to see what you'll come up with! Have a nice day! ❤️

aaaahh hi! thank you 🥺 you’re such a good artist everytime i see you in my feed i’m like, what are you doing here? im just a little guy.

like a little rat chef, i will cook something up for you!

(This got way too long I’m sorry LMAO, I have feelings for him)

Also, this one is a liiillll suggestive

——————————————————————————-

He’s been really antsy since you fell ass first onto Satan.

He’s been really fidgety since the whole hellfire newt syrup incident.

He’s been really shy since Solomon brought you back to the Devildom for undisclosed reasons.

He’s been really docile since your return.

And for the LIFE of you, you can’t figure out why.

You tried interrogating the others, hoping to gather any information as to why Mammon was being… well… less of a dick to you in general.

You always had this playful back and forth with the second born that you had come to love. But, with his usual bite gone, you began to worry something was just wrong.

“Hun, you always make him all fidgety. And sweaty. It’s really gross”, Asmo says, scrunching up his face in disgust.

You huff, rolling over on his bed to face him. “I’m aware. But this is worse than usual. It’s like he’s scared of me all of a sudden. Like he’s avoiding me.”

“We’ll, Id say he’d be an idiot to ignore the likes of you, but he’s also, quite frankly, always an idiot.”

“Azzy”, you deadpan, sending him a pointed look. He throws his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, okay! I get it. You see something in my poor, stupid older brother. And while I can’t fathom what that is, I know he sees something in you too. We all do, but he definitely wants to fuck you.”

“Asmo! Not helping!”

The avatar of lust continues staring at his nails, fussing with a bottle of polish as he fills in any visible gaps.

“Hmm… have you tried being direct? Sometimes you have to be direct with these men. Ya know, take what you want?”, he glances in your direction, licking his lips.

“I’m just trying to figure out why he’s ignoring me! I’m not trying to get into his pants.”

“A shame, really.”

“Asmo!”

“Here’s an idea! Let’s spy on him!”, he sings, eyes blowing wide with excitement.

“What? No! No, I can’t do that. That’s like, an invasion of privacy!”

“Oh, and you think he hasn’t done the same to you?”

Your face falls a bit as you question him, “…has he?”

Asmo lays a tentative hand on top of your. “Sweetie, we all have.”

“Huh. Like together or?”

“Not important!”, he smiles, “What is important is that we get this show on the road so we can get intel.”

The sickening grin on his face does nothing to settle your nerves.

That’s how you find yourself here, comically shoved up against Asmo as you shared a bench in town square, peering out at the subject of your affection from behind a copy of the latest edition of the RAD newspaper.

“There is absolutely no way he won’t spot us”, you grumble to the strawberry blonde.

“He will if you don’t be quiet! Now watch!”

“What is he doing?”

“It looks like he’s buying something from that stand. ~Oh, could it be?”

You don’t like the glint in Asmo’s voice.

“Could what be?”

“It looks like he did listen to my advice”, he smooths. You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“What advice? Asmo what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me!”, you try to sound urgent, but you have a feeling he won’t tell you either way.

“No need to worry love”, he chirps, “Looks like my dear older brother will be back in your good graces soon enough”. He grabs your wrist, dragging you back towards the house with a force you know you cannot break free from.

“H-Hey!”

“Just trust me on this one hun!”

As night begins to fall, you sit alone in your dorm room nervously biting your thumbnail. You and Asmo’s rendezvous did nothing to quell you worry, and on top of that the fifth eldest was being cryptic as hell since you got back to the house.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. “Asmo, I already told you if you’re not going to tell me what he’s doing, leave me alo-”

The words die in your throat as you rip open the door to be met with the piercing eyes of the second born.

“M-Mammon…hey uh, what are you doing-”

Once more you go quiet, eyes flitting down to where he held a large bouquet of yellow roses.

As you return your gaze to his face, you find him beet red, and almost…shaking?

“I uh- I-I, I got these flowers and I just thought you’d want them. N-No reason! I-In fact, they weren’t for you! They were for u-uhhh…little d no. 2! Yeah! But since I can’t find him, you can have ‘em.”

You lean against the door frame, crossing your arms across your chest, smiling up at him.

“Uh huh, little d no. 2, huh? What made you want to buy him a dozen roses?”

“What? Can’t a proud papa bring his son some flowers?”

“Oh, so now you admit he’s your son?”

“I-I didn’t. I mean- Ugh! Here! Just take ‘em!”, he exclaims shoving them into your hands, pushing past you into your room. You swear you hear him mumble “pain in my ass”, to himself. You can’t stop the grin that spreads on your face.

You shut the door, making sure to lock it. Something tells you this isn’t going to be a normal conversation, and the last thing you need is Levi bursting in asking you if you want to watch the latest episode of “Help! My Mystical Girlfriend Turned Into A Cat and Now I Want to Be One Too!”

He sits on the edge of your bed, hands nervously gripping his knees for dear life. His gaze is fixed on a spot on your floor, and you can’t help but tease him.

“My floor that interesting, huh?”

He snaps out of his stupor, turning to look at you. You swear you see him gulp.

“So, what’s up with you? Ever since I came back, I feel like you’ve been distant. I missed you Mams, and now I’m here and you’re avoiding me?”

It takes him a beat, but he squeaks out a small “sorry.”

You hum, a small noise of recognition before scooting a little closer to him on the bed. He visibly tenses.

“Mamm-”

“DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE FIRST MET?”, he nervously lets out, cutting you off. He still won’t make eye contact.

“Of course I do. How could I forget!”, you giggle. “It’s the first time someone threatened to eat me if I didn’t give them all my ‘mortal possessions’”.

He seems to loosen up a bit at the joke, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I was kinda a dick back then.”

“Oh? Only back then?”

“Watch it!”

You suppress your laughter as he continues.

“At first, I only saw ya as a pain in my ass. AND ya still are. B-But then I got to know ya and we started doin’ everythin’ together and… I dunno”, he trails off.

“You don’t know…what?”, you question.

He runs a hand over the half of his face not cover by his glasses. His eyes close as he takes a deep breath.

He turns his position to better face you, eyes now looking directly into yours.

“I guess…I dunno when you became so important to me.”

“Oh.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“Asmo told me I should tell ya, but I’m no good at this stuff,” he gives a small forced chuckle. “And I probably wouldn’t have realized, but yer leavin’ back to the human realm…I think you took a part of me with ya.”

“Oh.”

“An essentially I guess I’m tryin to say…dammit..I’m tryin to say… GIVE IT BACK, OKAY?!”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his sudden raise in voice. “And how do I go about doing that, Mammon?”

He seems to pick up a bit of his usually bravado, finally getting out with it. “Well, obviously if ya take something from the Avatar of Greed, ya gotta pay it back, with interest.”

You smirk, leaning into his personal space, bringing your face closer to his, eyes glancing down to his lips.

“Oh yeah? Can I sign up for your payment plan?”, you mumble, trying to express your need with your movements.

He almost shoots backwards before catching himself, composing his nerves and moving his eyes to your own lips. “I dunno, ya could be payin’ it back yer whole life. Might still not be off the hook after that.”

“Mmm, I better get started then”, you whisper, leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

He tastes sweeter than you ever imagined, lips slowly molding to your own as you feel goosebumps beginning to form. One of his hands wraps around you, tentatively holding you closer to him, not letting you go, never letting you go.

You lean back after a beat to get some much needed air in your lungs. He shakily breathes out, eyes closed like he still can’t believe what just happened.

You smirk at him as you reach a hand up to his cheek, thumb running gently back and forth.

“Will this destroy my credit, golden boy?”

He opens his eyes, gaze much more intense now as he looks toward you, something unreadable in his eyes.

“No. But… we might just destroy this bed frame”, he grins wolfishly as he pulls you down.

Huh. What do you know? Asmo was right about something.

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Twice now I have tried to make a reblog reply about Walter and twice now Tumblr has eaten it. So let's try it this way @chaos-bringer-13

Allow me to take you back to the ✨QUARANTINE DAYS✨ and tell you the tale of a pumpkin that may or may not have housed a god

So back in good old 2020/21 we are in the thrall of the COVID-19 pandemic. My state in particular had super heavy quarantine restrictions, and as someone with lung issues, my mom and myself were not taking any chances. I haven't left my house in maybe 5 months. Nor have I seen any of my friends outside of video calls. Senior year of High School so far has sucked.

I'm talking to my friend, we'll call her Marie, and I mention off hand "Yeah I'm starting to feel a bit lonely." Now Marie has known me for a solid 8 years at this point. She knows my type of humor and attachment to what we would now and days call "skrungly" objects. She decides "hmm. I can fix this!"

Marie's mom (who was... certainly a human being) for some god forsaken reason decided to buy a white pumpkin and give it to Marie with the idea that she would harvest the seeds from it and plant them in the garden (why she did this instead of just buying pumpkin seeds I will never know). Instead of doing this, Marie takes this pumpkin and draws a realistic face on it that can only be described as similar to the handsome squidward meme. She drives to my house, sets the pumpkin on my doorstep with a note, and then FUCKING BOOKS IT.

I open the door to see this pumpkin with a note that reads "Hello Momther, I am Walter."

(Not the best photo but this is in fact Walter sitting in the dark in my front yard while Marie (not pictured) stands on my driveway holding a single candle and chanting).

Anyway immediately I take him inside completely smitten and unknowing as to what this pumpkin will create.

At this point of quarantine, we have gone back to classes but they are completely online. I decide that the best thing I could possibly do with Walter is set him on a stack of notebooks behind me so that when I turn my camera on he would be there... watching. Notably, one guy who never unmuted himself did so just long enough to ask "Void... what the fuck is that."

Needless to say I got endless entertainment from the reactions, but all good things have to come to an end. Unfortunately, I live in a desert and pumpkins simply don't survive. They typically would rot within a few days where I was living at the time, so my Mom told me to move it outside at least. I decide to put him by the front door. This front door has a little half wall that leads up to it. I put him on top of it facing the walkway so whenever a package is delivered the mailman would be faced with Walter and have to make eye contact before leaving the mail. I figure I'll probably get a couple more days out of him before he rots.

This is where it starts to get weird

Another week passes. Two. Unlike every single pumpkin I've ever had for Halloween, Walter shows no signs of rotting despite being exposed to the elements. The pumpkin is at this point about a month and a half old and still perfectly fine. Marie, our friends, and I all kind of laugh it off as a random one time thing and expect it to rot within another week.

IT. FUCKING. DOESN'T.

4 months into having Walter and he is still as good as new. Around this time the vaccines for covid started rolling out, so my friends and I get to see each other again. They are just as baffled as me about Walter. Of course, us being us, we have been referring to Walter like an actual person this whole time because that's just our humor. We give him little head pats and forehead rubs as we enter or leave my house and say hello/goodbye to him.

Also around this time, my mom and myself are beginning to prep for moving to another state. We have also started doing some in person classes again. I had been cleaning out my room one morning, and just so happened to leave a piece of sea glass in front of Walter as I left for school. I had a strangely good day. Managed to get an A on a test if I remember right. I come home, see the glass in front of the pumpkin, and start thinking. The next day I leave him something else. Another good luck day! I try this again and every single time I leave him an offering something good happens! I tell my friends about it and they start doing it too and experiencing the same results. We decide that he must be some god of luck inhabiting this pumpkin vessel and rewinding time on it to keep it from rotting.

At some point someone gave him an orange and I swear to god the pumpkin started getting orange marks on its forehead. He still wasn't rotting though! We decided that he obviously has been absorbing the power from the offerings.

Around this time I realise the I have somehow created a partially serious cult and decide I might as well lean into it. I actually enlisted the help of the neighbor kids to take this photo.

Time passes. Walter is about 10 months old now and still going strong. We have graduated highschool and I'm going to be moving in a week. I can't take Walter with me, so Marie decides she will take him. But first, she is going to help us move. It's a 6 hour drive. We put Walter in the passenger seat window so that all the cars passing us can see him.

After she helps us, Marie and Walter continue on to yet another state where Marie will be attending university. Walter is almost if not a year old when he finally starts to rot. Marie, in her dorm room mind you, makes a plaster cast of his head and redraws his face on it. To this day Walter hangs in his new, more durable vessel, guarding her spice cabinet.

By the end of Walter's reign, he had reached his 1st birthday, scared who knows how many mailmen, met 3 of my teachers in person, visited 3 USA states, and briefly had an instagram account.