#i mean come on 'the devil dressed in white' it writes itself

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Rising of the moon and the revenant

Frollo x nuns! readers

warning : obsession, manipulation, drinking blood, murder happened (getting rid of a corpse), Frollo is a creep, no use of Y/n, fluff/comfort (as far as you can call it fluff)

Summary : The evening is over the night is here new prayers and the devil have laid on him. He wasn't punished he was promoted he got something he deserved for a long time. Her chaste heart doesn't know what shadow has fallen on her this night. Something that will become her dreadful nightmare.

info : The second chapter of the Frollo mini series i'm glad you liked the first part (thanks for any support) i had fun writing it and hope you enjoy reading it ;)

masterlist

Part.1, Part.3, Part.4, Part.5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith makes you strong. Faith can mean many things: faith in oneself, in one's family and friends, faith in humanity, in the king and queen of the throne. Or faith goes into the writings of the great philosophers who changed the world with their words, the deeds of heroes who made the world hold its breath.

Or it was the belief in heaven and hell in which both God and the devil ruled and reigned. They were places of infinite redemption and infinite pain.

On the clouds dressed in pure white singing with the angels and being at peace or in hell burning in the stages of hell, bleeding and being torn apart by demons, devils and other creatures that overcame human understanding and knowledge. But faith gives and takes. It can give you strength by simply praying or faith can take everything away if you go against God's plans.

But while God seemed to be everywhere in every life he had created, even the earth itself, the devil was all the darker. In the shadows, in the sins, in the sins of the seventh death, in the bodies of whores and drunken men. In the shadows of the streets pervaded by murder and lust.

The cats, bats, wolves and rats dark creatures who obeyed him who obeyed his demons who obeyed a revenant.

Revenants, the once living humans who could not help it until a certain time when they let sin into their hearts. The bite of evil was enough to poison people's hearts and make them scratch the inside of the coffin after their death.

Scratching and screaming could be heard until the revenants were dug up and set free or, better still, left to rot in the ground. But there was always someone who could escape from their coffin, a creature, a monster, a creature that had to be wiped out, a revenant like the ones in the church books. But it was just such a creature that got free, which Paris chose as his hunting ground for a while.

For a world of decades and centuries he saw the construction, the wars, the royal families rise and fall. Until his time came and he grew tired of it all...but there was one last thing he wanted to do.

He wanted a successor, he wanted a monster, a creature that would carry on his deeds with even greater bloodlust. A bloodlust that he had found in someone who would not be more perfect.

The judge Claude Frollo, a man of power and duty for the entire city. But above all, it was a man who represented the other side of his coin. He was the side of the living and the monster was the side of the dead.

He had been given many names, but when he gave him the kiss of death, his teeth drew blood and the poison of his own blood spilled into his youth, it was done and the dark shadows continued to move across the lands.

But now he had it, Frollo had it all back, he had life, he had strength and he had power. More power than he could ever have.

This bite of his faith that had been his back then when he had taken Quasimodo in because he was in awe of God, of the holy ones and still had something on the word of the Archdeacon. But now, when he had tasted the blood after coming home, something was completely different.

It was more aromatic and more intense than any alcohol or food he had ever tasted. Everything seemed more intense, the creaking of the wooden floorboards of his house all the louder, the sounds of the night ringing in his ears and his own voice strange.

It was unusual, like waking up from a trance after satisfying his bloodlust. ,,What fascinating powers the devil can give," he murmured and wanted to look at himself in the mirror in his room to see if he looked like the creature himself, but instead he backed away.

The mirror, the large gilded mirror, didn't show him...or didn't seem to show an image. Putting his hand to the cool material he saw only what his eyes saw he could look down and see that he was not a mass of bats but perhaps it was time, the record of the revenants was old but he must still have it somewhere.

,,Like years before by the power of blood" he whispered his thoughts to himself as he saw how he didn't look the same as two decades ago but the traces of age seemed to fade slightly as he searched through the books in the private library.

His eyes flew over the pages at a speed that almost made him dizzy everything seemed different and yet pleasantly different. It was the gift of the devil, the demon who had heard his prayers and voices...he had heard his demands for her.

His beloved, his nun, his one and only, whom he had craved and wanted ever since he had laid his eyes on her. It was natural that someone so good as he had been doing his duties and his job as judge of the city for decades was rewarded with things beyond materialistic coins and other objects.

It was his reward from the god of the underworld, the hell that controlled everything dark and negative, who heard him because God was already in his heart. ,,He wants me to bring you to me, to ruin your sins," he wandered on with his thoughts, not realizing how he was almost effortlessly emerging into the shadows of his house without realizing it.

It was a power he had yet to realize, a power he had yet to harness, a power he had yet to use after he had gained it through work and his righteousness. He continued to teleport through the house in the dark until the cold smell hit his nose.

The stable boy. He had killed him just as the Judge saw it as he walked out of his house into the shadows still not quite sure what his power was but when he saw the bath the body parts scattered in the straw and the dark red looking black without the moonlight he wrinkled his nose at the smell of what he had done. Well, I'll take care of that later, he thought, but left Snowbald in the stable and let his hand wander over the animal.

The stallion was warm and full of life he listened to the quiet heartbeat even though Snowbaldd realized that something was wrong and nudged him which made Frollo smile, ,,You felt it, didn't you?" he asked the animal who just snorted and waited to see if an owner would come up. But why go up at night when he could do something much better, when he could do what he could only do during the day...he could finally get to her.

Turning away from his house, he looked around him, his neighborhood was a little further away from the common people anyway, from the rich only a few streets away, he was relatively alone. No one would see him, not even if he walked with the darkness, he knew exactly where he had to go. Where she lived. Where she slept.

Focusing on her location and a blink of an eye later he found her in the darkness neither it seemed like a simple shift but it was longer but before you realize it and the tingle appeared it was over. ,,Fascinating," he murmured and continued through the darkness, running and teleporting further and further, spared even by the light of the moon.

He was the darkness, he was the horror, he was now the evil Paris had to fear and he would use his new power to get it. His figure flitted through the night, sneaking from the streets to the alleys and houses until he arrived at the attic apartment below, where there was a flower store, pretty and colorful by day and dark by night. But he knew that she lived upstairs under the roof with the iron balcony that gave her a view of the cathedral.

Standing below, he concentrated on the balcony, knowing that he was coming up there. Concentrating again on the dark, he dissolved for a moment into the dark shadows and arrived at the top of the balcony. Looking behind him, he had to suppress a grin as he realized how strong he was, how good he would be, how powerful he was.

But his attention went to the room when he heard her heartbeat he was quiet she seemed to be sleeping maybe dreaming but most of all he didn't notice her when he went into her room and emerged from the darkness behind her curtains. ,,So innocent...blood-rich...heartfelt...so desired" Frollo mumbled as he saw her nun's robe folded on the chair but not the rosary that went to her bed a simple but sufficient for her he saw that she was holding something under the covers.

She was lying on her side, her eyes closed and her hair visible, which was usually hidden under the dark fabric. Feeling this newness in him, he wanted her even more than before, this time he wanted her completely from her body to her mind to her blood and her soul. He wanted her completely for himself.

Leaning over her, he placed his deathly cold hand on her cheek for the first time. He touched an angel for the first time, he seemed to feel the holy scripture, what he always wanted.

He had faith in his hand, the heaven he prayed for, he had her. Moving over her cheek he slowly traced the shape of her lips came closer to her his body moved to her bed quietly inaudible.

She slept in her sweet head, probably things were going on that would soon be filled by him. She smelled sweet not surrounded by incense or the scent of wax from the candles, no old beeb sides no she smelled sweet when she was not surrounded by the house of god. It was a sweet smell that radiated from her heart.

It was beguilingly captivating and he wanted it he seemed to want to hold it in his hands felt his fangs forming like when he had attacked the stable boy.

He could have her here and now, he could take her here and now, and yet as he came closer to her neck his hand held her even if she was asleep and didn't notice him, he wouldn't allow a disturbance. It would be easy to take her, to bite her, to drink the sweetness that attracted him next to her.

He came closer to her neck, his teeth scraping the skin, drawing blood slightly, but then he felt a sting. His hand, which had lifted the blanket, revealed her beautiful body adorned with a light white nightgown.

Her body so accessible he would have wanted to know when she was standing how she looked moving slightly back and forth in the moonlight when the wind blew around her.

But as beautiful as she was, the feel in his hand as he gripped her hand was real, it was something like it reminded him of his old life as if he had lived in this new existence forever.

Incredulous, he pulled himself back into the shadowed window and looked down at his hand in disbelief, a burn mark was visible but already healing. The rosary flashed through his mind as he approached her again and saw with a consumed smile that bared his sweet teeth that he was healing away from her.

In her hand was the rose cross, his gift of holiness before he engaged with the devil, it was pure irony. ,,You didn't know, dear?" he asked the sleeping woman and let his hands wander over her body once more, coming closer to her but shaking himself from the rosary, it was uncomfortable, it still seemed to burn slightly but it taught him lessons like a little boy, he had to start to understand it all.

Before he left her with a kiss on her lips, holding back his desire and unable to taste it, he would. He disappeared from her room, the street and the houses and went back to his own house.

He disappeared from the dark into his home again and spent the last hours of the night reading and writing things down in books and writings.

The hours went by and it seemed as if everything was passing all the more quickly, as if all life was passing all the more quickly. He was still lying in his room when the rooster's cry and the people's voices slowly became louder and more present.

,,The people are waking up again without knowing what has happened," he murmured as he looked out, his eyes having to adjust a little to the brightness, but as he held his hand in the light, not knowing whether it would burn or crumble to dust, it was extinguishable.

It was much warmer than usual on a late spring day but he could stand it as he didn't have to go outside that often. But something came to his mind when he saw the town guards patrolling and taking up their positions again, the stable boy.

The light one who happened to be lying brutally murdered with him, ,,It's a tragedy such a young life someone must be held responsible...search the wagons of the traveling people, search the bars and strengthen the guards in the poor parts of the city...I want honesty!" he told the commander of the city guard and saw that the blond felt sorry and uncomfortable as they stood in front of the judge's stable.

Froll had waited a few moments before running to the guard post, out of breath and shaken, he had told them what had happened, fearing for himself and his horse that someone was after him.

It was a simple matter for the guard to take the body and only a few hours later his stable looked like a new stable boy had been found and Phoebus was dealing with the case.

Once again his position of power proved to bring him more than just influence it was his control over the entire city. But he didn't have control over it much to his chagrin because after still having to deal with all the paperwork of his job he got on Snowball and rode to the church knowing she was gone knowing she came to the church from her job at the orphanage to help out where she could.

The church he called into his head on the stairs it was only hours ago was almost unbelievable if he didn't feel the bites himself. As he left Snowball and stepped into the church, a shudder came over him.

It was fear, discomfort and danger that told him he shouldn't be here it was completely different and yet....there she stood by the candles feeling them so that the people could mourn their dead.

He walked over to her, leaning on the benches and pillars every now and then when his body stopped in fear, the gazes of the angels and holy figures seemed to judge him. It was a shock, but she was his angel when he came to her, she revealed herself to him and came over to him.

But as soon as he came to him, he saw her wearing a second layer of fabric around her neck, ,,Good morning my dear, I hope you slept well...if I may, you look a little tired," he said and pointed to the bench to sit down, which she did, folding her hands in her lap.

He saw her pondering as her gaze went over the colors and finally to him, even though she always lowered her gaze, almost not noticing how formal and from she was.

Before she finally admitted, ,,Yes, I had a nightmare, nothing serious it seemed like shadows were plaguing me," she admitted and clasped her rosary that hung around her neck tighter around the expensive materials and prayed in silence.

It was the same tool that healed him from her and perhaps this was good for a moment, ,,I think the food at my place will give you a good night's sleep, can I expect you tonight?" he asked and slowly rose from the bench again, not only did he feel the fear leave him but his desire for his new food was gone and he had to strike again.

He saw the young nun stand up, let go of her rosary and move slightly, answering him with a ,,I'll be there at eight o'clock, Judge Frollo." She set a time that suited him, so he had plenty of time to prepare everything and feast on a new victim, blaming it on another accident or fugitive.

He turned away with a nod and said to her last, ,,Shadows are only shadows my dear they always surround us" before he left her back in the church and hurried out of the sacred building faster than he wanted to and was glad to be back with Snowbald on whom he mounted and took the reins.

The sun is getting too hot, he thought and ran his hand over his forehead as he looked up at the sky and steered his stallion back towards his house.

His new body had advantages, very good advantages, advantages that made him even more of what he was meant to be. The judge of the world a world full of sins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@oceansrose2002 , @aliensthegreat , @siwucha , @sweet-lil-truffla

[exsanguinated-doves]

(contemporary) prose poetry bonaganza

ahh..so was supposed to send this out to a writing zine competition and the submissions went wonky, and we all had to resubmit. however, I did not, so I'll be sharing this with tumblr.

infavourable : a thing about queer love, climate change, and cultural christianity,

love is stupid; in the way it appears in all shapes and forms, — In the way that it reveals itself out of nowhere, in the way we find it in our lives at moments where it shouldn’t — the entire concept of it is absurd, and ridiculous. (Let’s just break it into pieces.)

How it is coveted, a prize, to be won and claimed [claimed; a clamp of a cuff on a wrist / the bite of an engagement ring / it holds steadfast and clings /— to be shaped and formed — to be used with excessive force — ] how freeing it is; but, the terrible agony that it comes with, "this agony of marriage!"

‘we see not only a cage, but a trap in itself, for this, it is looked down upon..? “when it is not a cage nor a trap but something one wills to go into;’ [ in the same way a starved man would hunger and yearn for a bit of bread to pass his lips ] and one which is a divine gift [ when a mommy and daddy love each other very much ...] a blessing from the — (no, don’t even say it)

but, behold, my rules for this act of service, it must only be two lest it be a congregation of sin; one must do it in the spirit of the most High, and the man, and woman, must be bonded by the most scared act of marriage (you and your three divorces?) or else; one is nothing but an unclean sacrifice , and will be gnashing their teeth in the sulfur flames for all eternity [in the depths of the inferno; I cannot say which burns hotter, our passion, our desire, or your hatred for us , or global warming]

as a woman, you are bound by the duty, to be of a dutiful wife (or bring everlasting shame to your family and your descendants and everyone else who you have borne with the Prince of Hell) you must love a man; nothing else, and in return he may give you diamonds (and discard you!) and if you are a man, you must love a woman, (show none of your tears; you must have a girl before nightfall) and therefore, you shall procreate , and spread His holy word (hey guys , He said I can’t love women, yeah, sorry - “would He be fooled if I wear pants and you the skirt?” — you know what, let’s give it a try -)

paragons of virtue, you should be, as little girls like you are white and pure and clean (I am the Antichrist and I was borne with no gender ; because I am the devil’s associate. “we’re going as harley and ivy though, right?” - yes, of course - “should your mother think you have dressed as Salome with your sparkling clothes, just tell her it’s for a play” — I think she would prefer I dance for men than you — “you don’t even dance well-“ I mean ballet. I can do that! — “and the real devil after all were those billionaires” — and capitalism — “and mega corporations” — and amazon — “and those fascists” — and that prime minister of yours; — “ah, this is why I love you ..!” )

and I drink the blood of not Christian boys but of my own when I bite my lip a bit too hard when I see her smile

[ her laugh is silvery as water, for her, how could I not? ]

[existslikepristin]

Salon Erotique

Tags: TheLounge, NSFW… not exactly smut?, Secret Number, Soodam, Futanari reader insert (intentionally this time, too!), cliche fanfic intro, pretty girl, awkward girl, pretty awkward girl, nudity and talk of sex but no actual sex occurs, there is no smut in this SMUT wtf, yall I gave you so many opportunities, I guess it’s a fuckin romcom, Denise and Dita are unhelpful wingmen, does it count as a foot fetish if they’re chicken feet, seriously her lip twitches are the most fucking darling thing, visions in the sauce, 90% of the dirty talk comes from Giselle, how dare you make me write almost-fluff, I’m eventually gonna write the craziest smut in retaliation or just because I intended to all along idk, I uh could have posted this four months ago, oops, happy Secret Number comeback day!, enjoy!

Another day, another photoshoot. It’s not that you’re sick of these. Quite the contrary, they’re a fantastic source of supplementary income and you can appreciate that. It’s just that they’re an overused plot device.

But despite that, you feel that this particular photoshoot is going to be an interesting one.

You heft your camera bag off your shoulder and get your lighting set up. Your client today rented a studio for this. The space itself is super nice. Small, but not so small as to be uncomfortable. Warm, not hot. Private, not isolated. You wonder how much your client spent on it.

Speaking of the devil, she has appeared.

You’re pretty sure, anyway. She’s a beautiful woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, with a calf-length black dress and a classy grey jacket over it. Based on her carefully applied makeup and the fact that her wavy brunette hair looks like it just came from the salon, you’re pretty sure this is your client.

“Soodam?” you ask to verify.

She regards you with a silent look for a moment. “Yes… I made an appointment.”

Well… yeah. That would explain why you’re here.

“Yup. That’s great. So I’ve got the lighting ready to go. What exactly are you looking for, Soodam?”

She removes her jacket and hangs it with care on a hook on the door. The upper half of her dress is as conservative and modest as the length. “A photoshoot.”

Oh, so it’s going to be one of those days.

“Yes, of course. What sort of feel are you going for? Do you maybe have a theme in mind? Or a specific situation you plan on using the photos for?”

Soodam steps into the staging area and looks in every direction but yours.

Is she going to answer?

Options for Part 1:

She just wants something professional-looking to put on her instagram.

(Picked:) She wants some tasteful, artistic nudes.

She wants promotional material for her group.

Soodam does not answer you. At least not verbally. Instead, she pulls her dress up and over her head, taking a bit longer than one would with a shirt, given its length.

You can’t help but stare as she undresses. For one, you weren’t expecting her to. For two, you’re stunned by the absolutely murderous shape of her body. The subtle flare of her hips and her bubble butt, toned legs and tummy, and breasts wrapped in lacy white.

She stands there, nearly naked, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, eyes continuing to wander.

You cough to get her attention, hoping for an explanation. Soodam merely hums, as if agreeing with you, and unhooks her bra, dropping it to the side with her dress.

“Woah!” You have to pull your shirt a bit further down to keep the bulge from being too obvious through your yoga pants. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s going on here?”

Soodam gives you a curious look. “A photoshoot.” There she goes again...

“In the nude?!”

“Yes,” she states matter-of-factly, then, surprisingly, continues after a pause, “I see. Starting with the lingerie on. That will look nice.”

Clearly she doesn’t understand your distress.

You turn around as she bends over to pick up her bra again, avoiding the far too alluring sight of her ass, and fumble your phone out of your purse. You need to figure out if she said something about this that you missed when she hired you. But when you unlock your phone, the map that you hadn’t bothered to close is on screen, and you see a marker on your current position. You hadn’t thought much about the name of the studio before arriving, but now it makes sense.

salon érotique

You don’t need to have studied French to know you’ve gotten yourself into an interesting situation. It’s fine though. You can do this. You’re a goddamn professional.

“Well then, Soodam, thoughts on the lighting? Too warm? Cool?”

“I like it.”

Of course that’s all she has to say. You turn around to discover that she’s much closer to you, mere feet away. You could touch her if you reached out...

“It’s strange for girls to look at each other like that, you know.”

It would seem you were staring again. And this time she caught you.

Options for Part 2:

(Picked:) Brush it off. As previously stated, you’re a goddamn professional. You’re just… tired.

Admit that you just weren’t expecting a nude photoshoot, because you’re a dummo.

Correct her because, um, actually, you’re a futanari, gosh.

“Look at each other like what?” you ask, feigning ignorance. “I’m scanning my subject. Sorry if it’s coming across as something else. I just didn’t get quite enough sleep last night.”

“That’s okay, as long as the pictures turn out nicely.” Soodam sounds quite uninterested in your fake plight.

You steel your nerves and pick up your camera.

The first round of pictures is innocent enough. Soodam drapes herself across the white cloth background, and her lingerie practically blends in. Over time, however, the poses become more and more erotique. She pulls at the straps of the bra and lets them fall.

You think about your memory card. Soon enough, it’s going to be jam packed with sensual photos that you never expected would be inside of it.

Despite your insistence on professionalism, you struggle to keep your erection out of view. This was certainly not the day to have decided against baggier jeans. At least your shirt hangs low enough to conceal your shame.

You find yourself talking like a cheesy photographer anyway. “That’s great, Soodam! Yes! Hand on the hip! Pop that leg!”

Soodam is either into it, or she’s very good at interpreting stupid instructions. Which is the case, you couldn’t say, but her silent obedience is sure to produce high resolution gold.

“Yes! YES! You’re a cat! You’re a sexy cat! Prowl for me, baby! MEOW!”

The words escaping your mouth become increasingly more incoherent. There’s no stopping you and your artistic rampage.

Well actually, your camera stops you quite easily. The usual shutter sound it produces is replaced by a shrill beeping. It’s time to swap the memory.

You grumble as you dig through your bag. The interruption of your flow is extremely unwelcome, but at least it brings you back to reality. It’s a good thing too, because you notice the hard outline of your cock is almost fully visible. Your shirt must have gotten caught in your waistband somehow.

Readjusting, you turn back, only to see Soodam dragging her lacy panties down to her mid-thigh. Her bra is unclasped and barely hanging on by one shoulder.

Options for Part 3:

(Picked:) Keep taking pictures as normal. You don’t want to cause any distress.

Take off your top. It’s only right that you and your model are dressed similarly, right?

Peace the fuck out of there. This is too hot for you to handle.

Of course, you decide, it would be absolutely stupid to do anything other than continuing to do your job like a normal person. This is your livelihood and you have a reputation to uphold! Not that your job hasn’t led you all the way to sex with several idols in the past, but that’s no excuse!

You slap your cheeks and let the adrenaline course through your veins. New memory card installed, you swing the camera around to continue the shoot.

Soodam remains perfectly stoic, as if she’s done full pictorials naked before. And she sure poses like she knows what she’s doing too.

She starts on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She slowly kicks one raised foot back and forth, touching one finger to the corner of her seductive lips. Her other hand is placed coyly over her breast.

Next pose. Soodam sits up, panties casually sliding down until they’re hanging off her toes. She props her chin up, elbow to knee. One arm goes between her legs to obscure her pussy. Her bra is just about gone, looking almost like a purse flung over her shoulder and leaving her tiny, pointed nipples completely out.

Next pose. The underwear is gone. With the technical exception of her modest earrings, Soodam is one hundred percent nude. She drapes herself back, arms over the head, hair fanned out. Her knees are still up, one crossed over the other. You stand halfway over her to get a series of glamorous pictures from above. When she looks up, you swear she’s staring through the camera and into your eyes. You gulp down your nerves and keep up the pace.

Next pose. Soodam gets on her knees, popping her shockingly round booty out toward you. “Hey, I… hope you know I didn’t mean anything by saying that… about girls.”

You pause your camera work. “Oh. That’s oka--”

“I’m just nervous about doing a photoshoot like this. That’s all.”

Options for Part 4:

Tell her she’s doing well. You’d never have guessed she was nervous.

(Picked:) Say it’s fine, if she makes it up to you. Say, by paying for dinner.

Imply, not all that subtly, that she shouldn’t be so damn rude.

“Uh. Oh. No worries, Soodam. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can make it up to you.”

You look her up and down. She’s still looking away from you, so it seems like the perfect opportunity to take in the view… Not that you’re taking hundreds of nude pictures of her or something.

The curve of her back, the way her thighs and calves spread out as they press into each other, her slim shoulders, it’s all making you feel crazy. You think for a moment that you could ask her to suck your dick, or something similarly dirty, but no. That would be way too brazen of you, and she’d never go for that. Would she? You blurt it out.

“How about you take me out for dinner?”

Okay, so you didn’t blurt out anything dirty, but you almost did!

“Tonight? After the shoot?” Soodam asks.

Your thought process hadn’t gotten that far. “Uh, totally. If you’re free.”

“Okay.”

Okay. That settles it somehow, you suppose. You adjust your cock again to not appear through your leggings and get back to taking pictures. Tasteful… hopefully… pictures.

But just like that, the photoshoot ends. Soodam didn’t do anything really wild, as expected. Over the course of several more poses, not unlike some relatively tame pin-ups or boudoir images, nothing out of the relative ordinary happened.

You pack your camera back up, clasping all of the relevant memory cards in a secure case. You certainly don’t want to be losing these ones. Soodam gets dressed once more. It’s almost a shock just how modest her outfit is, but it’s what she wore in. You guess it’s your horny futa mind that made you forget.

“So…” Soodam hovers around as you take down the lighting. “Do you like chicken feet?”

As an amalgamation of people, you don’t really have that strong of a preference, but still you say, “Yup! Is that where you want to go?”

“Yes. And… Is this…” Her words may be slow, but at least they’re efficient. “A date?”

You look up from your shade folding. Again, she’s not looking at you. She’s looking anywhere but, in fact.

Options for Part 5:

A date immediately after taking her naked pictures? No, that’s weird.

(Picked:) Of course it’s a date. A romantic/cutesy one, in fact.

Neither, because it was a trick, and you’re leaving now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose. After you said what you did about girls looking at each oth--”

“I’m sorry.” Soodam interrupts. It seems perhaps that she’s trying to avoid mention of her potential homophobia. “Yes, it’s a date.”

You smile. She may be rude but at least she’s cute and to the point. “So does that mean you’ll be showing me a cute, romantic time tonight?”

The first sign of emotion you’ve seen out of her today appears. A rosy blush spreads across her cheeks. You’re about to let her know that it’s a joke and you’re not trying to extort a romance out of her, but she makes a beeline for the door.

“Yes, I’ll make sure it’s romantic,” she says on her way. She doesn’t look back.

What a weird chick…

Once all of your equipment is packed up and ready to go, you get a single text telling you where to go and when. Looks like you’ve got a few hours to get ready.

* * *

Thankfully, the directions were easy to follow.

Soodam is standing outside the restaurant and, unlike you, she’s changed clothes: A tank top with a cardigan, both white, a short, pink skirt, and white sneakers. She could certainly be described as cute, but the cute look is undercut by her nervous fidgeting. Her entire demeanor is different from the way it was at the studio.

In fact, she barely, sheepishly greets you, “Hi… Follow me.”

You do exactly that. “Well hello Soodam,” you say to her back.

She doesn’t meet your eye when you reach your reserved table either, but gestures for you to sit.

“No, not there!”

You pause, half-crouched. “Oh. Uh, wrong table?”

“No, I mean… Please sit here, on this side.” Her gestures frantically change direction to the opposite side of the table.

Weird might have been too tame a word to describe Soodam. But even so, you swap to the other side of the table and she sits across from you. Wordlessly and with her head down, she holds out a menu to you with both hands.

After a moment of looking it over, entirely in silence, you decide to try and break the ice. “So, Soodam. What was this you were telling me about chicken feet?”

“You… don’t have to order chicken feet. But this place makes the best chicken feet. You should definitely try it, because… You should definitely try it.”

That might be the most you’ve ever heard her speak. Too bad she said it to her feet.

Options for Part 6:

(Picked:) Clearly she wants you to order the chicken feet. Order the chicken feet.

Actually, you’re in the mood for a different kind of spice. Order the teokbokki.

Go in a totally different direction! Order the salmon.

Moments later, a waiter comes by and asks if you’re ready. Hoping to avoid any more awkwardness, you ask for the house special chicken feet. Soodam asks for the same.

And then, nothing really happens. You look around the restaurant. The wood of the seats goes all the way to the ceiling, but with large gaps in between slats. There’s very much an industrial type look throughout. Or their designer was lazy. Behind you there are a couple empty tables and a person with their hoodie obscuring their eyes. To the side, a few more people sitting at individual tables, dressed as if they had just come directly from bed. Seems to be a pretty slow day.

Minutes worth of silence has you bored and anxious. You don’t know what to say to Soodam, or even if you should say anything. You’d be at home editing the day’s photos with a bowl of ramen if you weren’t here now. And Soodam is obviously not much of a talker. You look down at your phone both to check the time and see if anybody’s sent you an urgent enough text that you can get back out of this.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see some movement from Soodam though. You don’t think much of it until she reaches out with lightning speed and snatches your phone-wielding hand.

Her eyes are wide, and her lips are twitching like she’s trying to come up with something to say, but isn’t able to make any noise.

“I, uh, shouldn’t check my phone?” you ask.

“No. I mean… no. I mean we should talk. Right? This is a date, and we should talk.”

Soodam’s words aren’t very convincing, especially since she keeps looking nervously to the side between them.

“Yeah, what do you want to talk about?”

The lip and eye twitching continues. It looks like she’s struggling to smile. “What time… are you from?”

She releases your hand and hangs her head low enough you can just see her nose through her hair. Before you can ask what she means, she speaks again. “I mean do you have any questions for me?”

Options for Part 7:

Questions? Um yes. Is she alright? What happened to the photoshoot confidence?

No, you don’t have any questions. You want to see where she was going with that.

(Picked, you nerds:) A few. What’s her name, her quest, and the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Ask if she wants to see some of the photos you already edited… in public.

A grin splits your face. “Yeah I’ve got a few. What’s your name?”

Soodam looks back up, obviously confused. “Lee Soodam. You knew that.”

You nod. “Okay. What is your quest?”

From somewhere in the restaurant you hear someone snicker. It seems they can hear you and already get the reference. Soodam definitely doesn’t. Her mouth continues to twitch as she desperately searches for whatever words might constitute a real answer.

“To… date… you? I don’t know what y--”

You interrupt for the final question. “What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

Somebody behind you bursts into laughter, followed by a loud "African or European?!" In that same moment, Soodam winces in pain and clutches her ear. You've seen enough romantic comedy movies to know what's going on.

You look back and make eye contact with the laughing girl. She has frizzy, faded orange hair and a hoodie which, you realize, was previously concealing her face. She stops laughing, whispers something down her shirt, and runs out of the restaurant.

Soodam looks absolutely mortified when you face her again.

"So who was that?" you ask, trying not to sound confrontational.

There's a long pause before she answers. "Denise."

At least she's not a liar.

"Can I see your ear?"

Trembling like a leaf, Soodam turns her head. You hadn’t noticed thanks to some very clever makeup, but there's a cord partially disguised as part of her earring.

"Were you hoping to get like, walked through the date or something?"

Soodam nods and hangs her head.

“You know,” you say, putting a hand on the table as if you’re going to stand up, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, we can go…”

“No!” She grabs your hand and yanks the cord away from her ear. There’s a patch of bare skin left over by some stage tape. “I’ve never been with a girl before and I don’t actually girls I mean go on dates in the first place and I’m very cute I mean you’re cute and I’m very nervous is what I meant to say please don’t leave we can do anything you want you’re actually very cute.”

Well now you know why she normally speaks so slowly.

Options for Part 8:

(Picked:) Get her to tell you more about herself. That’s the kind of thing a date is for, isn’t it?

Dates with you tend to include sexy times too… Where’s the bathroom in this place?

You smile. “That’s... Well that’s good to hear, Soodam.”

You take your hand off the table and settle back in. Soodam’s mouth just twitches some more for about half a minute.

“You, uh, blew your whole load on that outburst, didn’t you?”

She droops into her seat, slowly pulling her hand away from yours. “Yes. I’m… Sorry.”

Not entirely content with the idea of dipping into another extremely awkward few minutes, you snatch her hand before she can get too far away, just like she did with you. “Hey! Don’t be sorry! I didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously. How about I lead the conversation a bit more and see if that helps you out?”

Soodam nods and trains her eyes on yours. “That… yes, please.”

“Well let’s start with something simple. I promise this one’s not a joke. What’s your favorite color?”

Leading the conversation turns out to be a challenge in and of itself. Soodam seems content (that is, as content as someone with the nerves of a meerkat can be) to answer your questions simply and efficiently, and doesn’t give you much to latch onto. Topics that don’t exactly spark anything in her up until your food arrives include family, school, and vacation destinations.

But the food itself makes her eyes glitter.

“You a big fan of chicken feet?” you ask. It’s rhetorical since you can see drool starting at the corners of her mouth.

Her sudden enthusiasm shocks you awake. “Yes! I love it! See, this is how you eat it, first...”

Soodam’s hands are a blur, grabbing utensils, disposable gloves, and bowls, all while describing the step-by-step process of optimizing the flavor of chicken feet. Before you know it, she’s holding a large, steaming spoon in your face, loaded with rice, sauce, and jiggling chicken cartilage. She stares into your eyes expectantly. It’s a slightly creepy look when it’s not accompanied by a smile, but you’ve already come to expect the awkwardness.

You open your mouth wide and she gently places the food in your mouth. The salt hits you first, then the herbs. You chew carefully since it’s still hot and experience that ever so slightly chewy texture. Then comes the burn. You feel your sinuses clear out and your eyes are watering within seconds. This shit is way hotter than you expected.

“Do you like it?” Soodam asks before you even have time to process all of the sensations.

Options for Part 9:

Of course you like it! This restaurant was a good choice.

Nah, you’re not really that big on chicken feet, but you hope she likes it!

(Picked:) You’ll have to answer that after you ICE YOUR TONGUE WHERE’S THE SODA

You cough once. That’s all it takes for the spice to coat every nook and cranny of your throat. It’s not like you don’t have your fair share of experience with spice, but something in this blend was clearly harvested from one of the rings of hell, because you can already feel your butt clenching in anticipation of the next few days of pain.

Your vision is foggy from the pain and glassy from the tears simultaneously, vaguely like a mirage. You’d call the combination a brilliant grey if you didn’t feel the severe need to pay a surprise visit to Starship Medical and get the blood ties behind your eyes checked out.

“Are you okay?” Soodam asks. Her voice sounds a little distant, like you’re recovering from the sound of a couple of gunshots being fired off on either side of your head.

“Y-hhh I’m fine,” you hiss. The way you’re fanning your eyes probably doesn’t project the same message.  “All good vibes here!”

Soodam’s lips are quivering again, you’re pretty sure. “I… let me get you some water!”

It’s not a bad plan. You haven’t had to worry about this for a while, so you’re left trying to remember if water is supposed to help in this situation or make it worse. Or is that milk? Whatever, you already gambled on eating this cherry bomb of a chicken foot. What’s another roll of the dice on something ice cold? Fuck, even some mint chocolate ice cream would be paradise right about now.

At what feels like a caterpillar’s pace to you, Soodam gets a glass in your hand. You’re unsure of your coordination at the moment, but you yank it toward your face and find sweet relief in the refreshing, crisp taste of Coke Zero. Zero calories, zero sugar, great Coke taste! Together tastes better!

It seems the corporate sponsorship is staving off the pain for now. Things were getting a little meta there. You can still feel the spice at the back of your throat. It’s all but guaranteed to come back with a vengeance soon, but for Soodam, everything is worth it… you think. “Thanks,” you gasp.

“You’re… welcome. Sorry.”

“No, you’re fine Soodam. I needed this anyway. My pores were feeling clogged.”

“Really? I can… feed you more.”

You sigh.

Options for Part 10:

Yes, that was definitely not sarcasm. Please, she should feed you more.

(Picked:) You know, it’s funny, it turns out you’re not super hungry. She should eat the rest.

Okay, now she owes you one for attempted futaslaughter. Time for her to eat your ass.

“You know,” you say, still fanning your tongue between words, “It’s funny. It turns out that I’m not super hungry after all. You should eat the rest.”

Soodam’s eyes go wide. You’re sure you’ve said yet another thing to make her scared, nervous, or generally trepidatious, until she whispers, “All of it?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah? I mean if you want it all.”

Her gaze shifts from you to the bounty of food on the table and you think you see the twinkle of a forming tear. “A double order of chicken feet... The whole thing.”

“Um. Yes.”

Soodam sits back down, sparkling eyes fixed on the bounteous feast laid out before her. She lifts her various eating implements. Drool forms at the corners of her mouth. She glances up at you, still breathing briskly through pursed lips, and sets her utensils back down.

“I’m… being selfish. I’m sorry.”

“What? No really, I’m not hungry.”

“Thank you, but I mean all day today. I didn’t treat you like a real person at the salon. And now that we’re here I’m making it all about me.”

You’re a bit taken aback by the apparently very sudden self realization. You can only hope this is the last personality shift you see from Soodam. “Didn’t treat me like a person? I don’t know what you mean.”

Soodam sighs. Her eyebrows scrunch up in some inscrutable combination of frustration and sadness. “No, I… was nervous about the shoot, so I decided to treat you like you weren’t real. When you said you wanted a date… I panicked. I wanted my members to help me and I wanted to do everything like I was here alone… I didn’t take what you wanted into account.”

“Well, Soodam, that’s a little more explanation than I think you necessarily needed to provide, but I—members?”

“Yes. Of Secret Number. We… got rookie of the year a while ago.”

It’s no wonder. You’re always getting tied up in idols’ affairs. “And members? More than one?”

Soodam looks to the side. You follow her gaze. One of the people, a somewhat tan girl in an exercise outfit, sitting at a table near your booth looks back at you like a deer caught in the headlights. After a very awkward moment, she hops off her chair. “I’m going to—Oh hi by the way, I’m Dita. I’m gonna go. I know this is weird…”

“Hi Dita. Nice to meet you,” you say. No sense not being courteous.

“Nice to meet you too. Ummm, bye.” Dita slowly walks away as she gives Soodam the most hesitant half-smile, double-thumbs-up combo you’ve seen in a while.

You turn on Soodam once again. “Any more members? Or anyone else?”

She avoids your gaze. “No. Jinny and Lea... weren’t at the dorm.”

Options for Part 11:

(Picked:) It’s not the first time she’s said she’s nervous. Ask why. Surely the mood swings aren’t just because you’re cute.

You don’t need to know why she’s nervous. You can remedy that with a heavy, maybe naked make out session!

Wait. She wasn’t treating you like a human? Now that you know she’s an idol, that seems real high and mighty! Get out of there!

She probably just needs to air out her true feelings. Confess your love for her and suggest she do the same.

"So to be clear," you say, "You've never dated a girl before."

Soodam nods.

"But you said it's strange for girls to stare at each other."

Soodam nods.

"But you think I'm cute."

Soodam nods again.

"What am I missing that's making you so nervous then? Did the author miss a plot hole?"

Soodam starts nodding, but stops. Her eyebrows stitch together. “What?”

“Forget it. It’s just something I say sometimes. What’s got you so nervous?”

Without a hint of emotion in her voice, but plenty on her face, Soodam softly says, “I’m… an idol.”

“Yeah,” you say at a regular volume, “I gathered that in the last minute. What’s your point though?”

“There’s a dating ban.” Soodam tilts her head to the side as she explains. “And even worse, if it were to get out that I dated a girl… there would be trouble. Especially if people suspect that we...”

She stops speaking altogether. You’re fairly sure she would have said something about sex if she wasn’t Soodam. You lean back and think. It’s not that her point is wrong, exactly.

“Have you been to The Lounge, Soodam?”

Obviously confused, she slowly points at the entrance to the restaurant.

“No, and I think that’s a lobby. The Lounge is a cafe. I’ll take that as a no.”

Soodam shakes her head.

“Okay, so I think we should probably go there sometime so I can prove this point. Um. Yeah, you won’t get caught dating. Or doing anything for that matter.” The words come out of your mouth so fluidly it’s as if you’ve rehearsed this script.

“I don’t…”

“Well I guess if you try to get caught, you could do it.”

Now it’s Soodam’s turn to lean back, staring at you like you’re the crazy one. She still doesn’t have anything to say, so you do what you can to assure her.

“See, I’ve been working with idols for a while now. At least a few years. I’m telling you, idols regularly get up to the craziest stuff, and nobody ever gets caught.”

“That’s… absurd,” Soodam whispers. She’s not actually wrong, come to think of it. It’s not clear exactly how you and all of the idols you know get away with everything you’ve done and seen. But your confidence is unwavering.

You pull your phone out of your bag. “I understand the hesitation. Would you like to ask one yourself? I’ve got a hell of a contacts list. We can make it a video call.”

Soodam’s head tilt gets dangerously close to snapping her neck, but she looks down at your phone and back up, as if prompting you to go through with it.

Well alright. Who’s it going to be?

Options for Part 12:

(Picked:) Call Giselle and pray that SM doesn’t have her too busy to take the call.

Call Chuu and keep your fingers crossed that she doesn’t sound high.

Call Hani and try to count on her even remembering who you are.

Call Ryujin and hope she doesn’t seduce Soodam into leaving the date.

Call Minnie and presume that she won’t try to extort you for her help.

An SM idol seems like your best bet to convince someone that you have connections. And wouldn't you know it? Giselle is pretty close to the top of your contacts list.

Black Mamba plays quietly as you call. Soodam's eyes grow wide.

And there's no answer. Eventually the phone just shuts off. It doesn’t give you a chance to leave a voice message.

Now it's your turn to look nervous at Soodam. "Guess she must be bus—"

Your phone rings. Thank fuck, Giselle is calling back.

“Hey, what’s up? Sorry. I couldn’t reach my phone in time.”

Giselle’s face lights up your phone, only partially superimposed in the corner by the blank void where your selfie camera points back at your face. She’s wearing some strange, high fashion get up: An open jacket with pointy shoulders, half a pair of sunglasses (sun… monocle? sunmonocle), and a very very small fedora-like hat. She’s surrounded by dozens of staff in what looks to be yet another Givenchy promo shoot.

“Sup Jizzy? I’ve got a friend here who, it turns out, is an idol like you!" You turn the phone around. Soodam freezes like a deer in the headlights.

"Oooh! Girl, obviously I know Soodam."

Soodam slaps her hands over her mouth. You respond for her. "Really? How's that?"

"Secret Number is a big deal. You should know that. Besides, gotta keep an eye on those Japanese idols. If you don—" The phone cuts out for a moment. "—ut Lea's super chill from what I hear."

You laugh, partially to widen the break in Giselle’s speech. She can go on forever sometimes. "So here's the thing Jizzy. We're on a date, but Soodam is worried about getting caught."

"What? Why?"

You nod at Soodam, who hasn't so much as twitched. "You wanna tell her?"

She doesn't lower her hands, and barely whispers, "Dating ban…"

That's all Giselle needs, it seems, as she jumps back into it. "Oh don't worry about that. It's literally impossible to get caught. Check this out. Hey manager! Yeah! Hey! I just got a call from a chick with a gorgeous cock! You cool if I take a break to go meet up with her so she can eat me out?"

There's a moment of silence. Giselle seems to be waiting for a response. Soodam looks terrified, but that's nothing new. You're slightly shocked at having been randomly outed and at Giselle’s brazenness.

"Aw, he says no. But that's no surprise. I'm actually working right now. But look at that! A whole room of people heard me say that and their only concern is that I might take a break. Hey you! You heard me just now right? Why did I want a break again? Oh you don't remember? Shame. I wanted to go get fucked. By a futa gir—"

You quickly turn the phone back around.

Options for Part 13:

Interrupt Giselle. She shouldn't be pushing her luck with this weirdness! Shut up!

(Picked:) Ask Giselle when the next time is that you'll meet up to fuck. Kill two birds with one video call.

Hang up! You didn’t mean to reveal that to Soodam and now you need to do damage control.

"Hey! Hey! Jizzy! Shush! Don't push your luck," you hiss. Though, maybe like Giselle, you don't actually have to contain your voice. "But no, really. Not right now. I gotta go because I'm on a date, but when are we going to meet up next?"

"Like the next time you destroy my holes, you mean? You busy on Sunday?"

"Nope, let's do it! Text me a time."

"Ha, yeah girl! I'll see you then. Keep your cock warm in the new girl for m—Oh, good to meet you Soodam! Get my number from her and we can meet in person! Byyye!"

You smile, wave, and tap the button to hang up. What a fun girl, that Giselle…

Oh shit, that was a huge change in tone from the rest of the date.

You look up to see Soodam staring at you like a deer in the headlights. Or, you know, like Soodam.

You gingerly set the phone down next to you on the seat. "Sorry. Bad manners to talk to other people on a date."

She doesn't move. Actually, after spending a certain amount of time with Soodam, you think "deer in the headlights" might not be a strong enough idiom. She's like a… Buddha... mannequin.

"And sorry for not telling you a few other important factors about dati—"

"You're… poly?" Oh damn, Soodam can still speak.

"I guess that's one way to put it. It's hard to define, but that's a pretty efficient way to put it. I probably should have brought it up before the date, but I didn't want to sound too presumptu—"

"CanIjoin?" This girl is really getting into the habit of interrupting you. Wait.

"Sorry, what?"

"Can… I join?" Soodam speaks between inward breaths. She's going to explode soon if she doesn't exhale.

"Just like that? I mean this our first date, and…" Your tongue goes a little numb. You can't remember the last time you turned someone down. Is that even what you're doing?

"Yes. Can I." Intake. "Be one of." Intake. "Your girlfriends?" Her face is getting red, but you can't tell if it's because she's holding her breath or if it's your run of the mill blush. Probably both.

That was forward of her. You think.

Options for Part 14:

Yeah, you're turning her down. This date has been extremely… unconventional. Not interested.

Of course she can be one of your girlfriends. You've been trying to tap that this whole time.

(Picked:) Girlfriends? Poly? Hold up. You don't define your relationships. This requires a much longer discussion.

“I… um.” You stutter. But for the sake of Soodam’s presumably precious lungs, you should probably make up your mind.

“Sorry, Soodam. I really don’t want to reject you, and I’m not, but I don’t like putting labels on my relationships. It wouldn’t be fair to… some other people if I just said yes.”

Soodam’s lips quiver and her eyes start waterin—oh no, you made her cry! Fuck! That’s now how this is supposed to work! “No, Soodam! I’m sorr—“

“Ohthankgod,” she says through a quickly released breath. She leans over the table, clutching at her chest.

“Thank?”

“I don’t know what came over me… why I asked that. I’m not ready to date. I’m… Oh god, Giselle knew my name, and…”

You stare at the top of her heaving head. She didn’t mean it when she asked to be your girlfriend? Well, now you’re a little hurt. She sort of technically said you were cute earlier… “I mean, I’m not ready to date either. But, you know, like, I was really considering it. I would just need, like, some convincing.”

Soodam falls back against her seat, fanning her face, still working on regulating her breathing. “No, that’s okay… I really can’t date… Too weird.”

“Too weird? Is it about me being a futa? Because, like, that’s not always the ca—”

She interrupts, again, a little more in control of herself. “That’s not what I mean. It’s relationships. I can’t… take that much attention.”

You stare at each other for a few moments. “Like this?” you ask, realizing you’re being very attentive suddenly.

Soodam rips her eyes away from yours and nods rapidly. “I like the idea… of being with someone pretty like you.” You can feel your self esteem re-enter your body. “I just don’t think I can… love?”

Oooh, heavy.

“You still want to spend time together without being romantic?” you ask.

She looks back into your eyes just long enough to convey that she’s being genuine when she nods. You smile back and hold out your hand, a little off to the side to avoid dipping your elbow in hell’s favorite chicken feet sauce. “May I make a suggestion then? Like a real one.”

Soodam shifts under her cardigan into a slightly more relaxed pose. Her face still seems to be expressing some amount of consternation, but you’re starting to catch on to the concept that it might just be her permanent state of being, like it’s her personal twist on resting bitch face. But even so, the corners of her mouth twitch upward.

Options for Part 15:

You can just be good friends! With the single stipulation that you occasionally hold hands in public, no matter how lewd that is.

(Picked:) Come on. Say it with yourself now. Friends. With. Benefits. Ain’t nothing wrong with some emotionally aloof butt-fucking!

You know, you still have to pick and edit the stuff from her photoshoot, and you could use help. Ask if she wants to be your coworker!

"If you like the idea of, you know, being together," You pause to watch Soodam slowly nod. "But you don't want to do a relationship, which I also don't, to reiterate," You pause again. Same reaction. "But you are totally cool with maybe perhaps staying friends, which I love the idea of," She doesn't nod this time. Instead, one side of her mouth wiggles up. It may look a little hesitant, but it sure seems like the most genuine… or only smile you've seen from her today.

"We could maybe, if it's cool, try a situation like, say,"

"Gal pals?!" Soodam's outburst makes you jump a little, and gets some dirty looks from the surrounding restaurant patrons.

You take a second to process. "Wait, gal pals?"

Soodam nods, very enthusiastically now.

"I thought you didn't want the romance."

"What?"

"Gal pal is a romantically coded term."

"It just means… girls who are friends but has a secret connotation that they have sex sometimes."

"Who told you that?"

Soodam's smile fades. It was nice while it lasted. "I… looked it up."

"It's about… okay, you're technically correct, but the general implications is that the titular 'gals' who are being 'pals' are actually in a committed relationship with each other."

She snatches your hand, which you suddenly remember has been floating over the table for a while now. "No! That's not what… what do you call lesbian friends with benefits then?"

You smirk. At least you were going in the same direction. "Um, 'friends with benefits?' But there's space to make adjustments to the terminology."

"Are you sure it's not 'gal pals?' Why does it have to be romantic?" Soodam gives you an unexpectedly angry glare, catching you off guard. Her grip on your hand gets a little tight.

"I just—"

"Who told you that's the case?"

You suddenly don't recall. Maybe it's best to relent. "I… good point. Let's be gal pals then?"

The smile isn't so hesitant and lopsided this time. Her eyes make way for a single dimple. "Okay."

The rest of the date feels like more of a… well, a date. Soodam opens up and actually engages in conversation, even if she's still awkward and very to the point about most subjects. She annihilates the chicken feet throughout, not even noticing that you steal the occasional spoonful of rice (there's no way you'll be incinerating your soft palate just because you're a bit hungry).

A few times, she makes a little flirtatious move on you: a brush of the foot on your leg, a stroke of the finger on the back of your hand, a bite of the lip when you make eye contact. It's somewhere between juvenile and impossibly arousing. The sun has gone down outside by the time you even think to tear your eyes from her to look at the time. A skinny young man in an apron walks by and subtly reminds the two of you that the restaurant is trying to close, and you're the only ones left.

Outside, you catch a glimpse of the coffee shop across the street, Denise and Dita in the window. They're clearly still trying to evade detection, but being the only people with a reason to use binoculars at night in a public space gives them away.

Soodam catches your hand. "I guess this is bye for now."

"I guess so. I'm glad we met up, Soodam."

"Me too… pal." She grins far too widely at her single entendre. She turns you to fully face her and goes in for a hug, face pressed against your shoulder. You return the gesture, trying not to laugh at your own speculative mental image of her members' reaction on the other side of the street.

"Can we meet again soon?" she asks, muffled.

"Of course…" You remember a very good reason to meet again soon. "I have to get your pictures to you."

There's a long pause. Maybe mentioning several gigabytes of lewd and nude photos of your date isn't the best way to end the night. But then, the hint of mischievousness in her voice tells you it wasn't all that bad.

"Actually, can I… help you pick them?"

You pull away from the hug enough to see Soodam's lip-biting grin.

"Oh dear, Soodam. How suggestive."

The hug itself gets a little more suggestive when her fingers trail down and squeeze your ass. "I'm not suggesting anything… Are you?"

"Of course not. It will be a perfectly normal, friendly day of looking at your naked pictures."

"Day?"

"Or night. You pick."

"Hm. A day sounds good. That will give you more time to figure it out."

"Figure it out? Figure what out?"

Soodam's grip on your buttcheeks becomes extra brazen, curling inward and kneading. "That I won't be wearing panties, like today."

You feel like you should say something about how you no longer have to figure that out since she told you, but your curiosity and latent horniness overwhelm you. You start to reach for her butt to get your hands on it the same way her hands are on yours, or maybe you can go under her skirt. That perfect, bubble-round butt that you've tried so hard not to think about since arriving at the restaurant is so close! So ready for your touch!

But Soodam backs off. Your fingertips merely brushed her hips, and your own ass suddenly felt very lonely and unsqueezed. "Text me your address if you want me… to come over."

Even in your mild daze, you catch on. That particular pause was much more intentional than most. You shudder. This girl might be more seductive than she's been letting on.

"Friday. Yep, Friday is good. I'll send you my address tonight."

Before you can react, Soodam is millimeters away from your face. She gives you a chaste peck on the corner of your mouth and drops back. "Don't look at the pictures until then, okay?"

Soodam is walking away by the time you regain enough of your senses to speak again. The sway of her frustratingly opaque and barely too long skirt don't help."H-hey! What was the photoshoot for, anyway?"

You can barely make out the blush on her cheeks in the dim street light as she turns back to you. "I'll… tell you on Friday."

The anticlimactic answer pains you as much as the sight of her slowly shrinking silhouette. When she turns a corner, you finally get the unfortunate relief of not watching her.

Another day, a little more than just another photoshoot. It really was an interesting one.

Thank fuck for that overused plot device.

THE END

Heylo, thank you for bearing with joining me for another one of these! Sorry for the, uh, drawn out time frame. But like... it happens.

Anyway, on to the stuff!

Storyline unlocks:

[Soodam - PromiScoodam]

[Giselle - Ally]

Unpicked option facts:

Part 1: No lie, the studio was going to be called salon érotique regardless of the option picked. This is a SMUT.

Part 3: Damn, nobody wanted smut in this SMUT apparently. No votes for anything except the fluffy option. Obviously this would have been a very different story overall if not for this.

Part 4: If the vote had been to call her out for rudeness, I was going to write her as a more dominant personality moving forward.

Part 7: The Monty Python reference was not in my original outline. I hadn't thought of an option that would reveal Denise and Dita up to that point, so I tossed it in as half a joke. The no questions option was meant to make it more rom-com as she'd have stumbled around over two different explanations in her ear.

Part 10: While not a fun fact about the options, this part was fun to write because I accidentally incorporated a couple references to other writers' stories that I enjoyed, and eventually decided to go back and fill it with more of that.

Part 12: Calling Chuu and Hani were the "bad" options, resulting in Soodam not believing you. It wouldn't have ended the story, but would have made her very suspicious of you. Ryujin was a sex option because Soodam was going to get hot and bothered and basically jump you. And Minnie would have turned out much the same as Giselle, but I would have swapped Minnie out of Sorry for Shuhua (not for any good reason, but just to not repeat idols so quickly).

Part 13: Y'all caught me off guard with this vote. I thought you were trying to keep the story pure, but nooo. I had already started writing Part 14 as if one of the other two options had been picked, but then the overwhelming majority was like "Kk, sex talk time." Not that I especially mind, but it was a funny switch up.

[wicked-mind]

The Angel and Devil on your Shoulder

Summary: One day you wake up with an angel and devil on your shoulder. And for some reason, they like to air all your feelings out to the one person you’re trying not to like. Bucky.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: (+18 only. This contains sexual themes. Minors DNI and exit now.) Sexual themes. Pining. Implied sex. Swearing. I think that's it.

All Writings Masterlist

Note: This is a little different and out there but it was so much fun to write. Lucy is basically just all my dirty thoughts lol (: not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

Any and all likes, comments, and/or reblogs are deeply appreciated (: I love that shit.

Bold for Lucy (Represents Lucifer)

Italics for Mickey (Represents Michael)

*Gifs not mine

You weren’t sure exactly when it happened. It surprised you as much as anybody. You just woke up one day to see two pocket sized creatures staring back at you on the pillow. You shrieked and threw yourself from the bed, grabbing the nearest gun you had hidden in your room and pointed at them, “What in the fuck are you?” You stammered out, breathing hard. One was what looked like a small woman dressed in a devil costume, tail and pitchfork included. The other was a small woman dressed in white with a small halo around her head. They honestly looked like cartoon characters of the sort.

“We didn’t mean to scare you.” The one in white said with a small smile, suddenly floating up in the air to float in front of you.

“Yes we did.” The devil looking one said, folding her arms with a wicked smile on her lips as she stayed laying on your pillow.

“Shut up, Lucy!”

“Make me, Mickey.”

You lowered the gun a little, wide eyes flickering between the two, “What the hell is going on?” You breathed out, wondering if you’d lost your mind.

“My apologies. I’m Mickey.” She said with a small curtsy and a smile, “That’s my sister, Lucy. We are your deities.”

“My what?” You ask confused, your brain trying to catch up with the fact that there were two tiny fairy-like people just floating in your room.

“Deities. You know, divine status.” The one named Lucy suddenly floated over and perched itself on your shoulder, “Usually humans don’t get any deities. We are pretty much reserved for gods and such.”

You looked at the small person on your shoulder before reaching a hand and flicking her off, sending her flying before she stopped midair floating and huffed at you, “Then why are you here?”

“We don’t know. We’re just your deities.”

“Well can you not be my deities?” You ask, looking back to the angelic one, “I’m not a god or a divine person so you two can just go back where you came from.”

“No can do, boss lady. You’re stuck with us.”

That is how you were introduced to your two deities. Lucy, the devil on your shoulder and Mickey, the angel on the other. You first had to make sure you weren’t going insane, calling Wanda incessantly until she came into your room with a concerned look on her face to see you pacing around. You had made Lucy and Mickey hide somewhere in the room before Wanda arrived. You paused when Wanda asked you what was wrong and looked at her, “Okay, first you can’t send me to the looney bin because I’m not crazy.” You pause, “Well maybe I am but I don’t want to go to the looney bin.”

Wanda tilts her head at you still with a confused look on her face, “No looney bin, gotcha.” She said slowly, “Now what’s going on?”

You let out a deep breathe before muttering a “come on out.” to the two deities in hiding. They slowly floated up from under the bed and floated towards Wanda who was staring at them with wide, yet confused eyes, “What are those things?”

“I don’t know, Wanda!” You say, “They just were staring at me when I woke up. They say they’re my deities.”

“I’m Mickey!” The one in white beamed, moving closer to Wanda and taking a seat on her right shoulder.

“And I’m Lucy.” The red one huffed out, floating over to Wanda’s right shoulder and kicking Mickey off Wanda’s shoulder.

Wanda stood in silence for a moment just staring at the two deities before smiling slightly, “They’re so cute!” She said before looking back to you, “Can we keep them?”

You groaned. Of course Wanda thought this was cute and not at all weird, “As much as I want to say no, I don’t have a choice. They say they’re stuck with me.” You inform, watching them float back over to you and sit themselves on either of your shoulders.

You figured out that Mickey was the parts of you that wanted to do good, be good. The part that cared and gave helpful advice while Lucy was the complete opposite. She harbored all your temptations and dirty, dark thoughts. The rest of the team figured out your secret eventually. Steve and Sam found you talking to yourself on the couch before seeing them sitting beside you asking all the questions about TV. They thought it was funny and Sam had many jokes about the angel and devil on your shoulders.The worst one was Bucky when he found out. He was a player, always having different girls up in his room almost every day of the week as well as make flirty remarks to you anytime he was in the room and that was before you had the deities. He loved the little devil on your shoulder. It got all worked up when Bucky walked in a room trying to make suggestions towards you about running your fingers through his hair or jumping his bones until your face was hot and you stormed out of the room. Luckily, you eventually figured out that you could give them orders. You once told them to leave you alone and they disappeared into thin air giving you about three hours of peace before they returned.

Now the whole team was out on a mission. Leaving you around with the person you didn’t want to be left alone with. Bucky. You were trying your best to stay away from him, especially when your deities were around. He got you so worked up which only made Lucy get worked up as well. As much as you were trying to stay away from him, there were moments where he managed to track you down. Like this morning when you were walking out of your room to head down to the training room. Bucky was walking down the hall with nothing but a towel on which made you freeze in your tracks as Lucy started fanning herself on your shoulder in a swoon, “Why are you walking on my floor with nothing but a towel on? Your room is upstairs and has it’s own shower, Barnes.” You scowled, folding your arms.

“Ah, c’mon, Y/N! Maybe if you’re nice he’ll accidentally let the towel slip.” Lucy’s words earned a smack from Mickey before she returned her arms crossed as well, mimicking your scowl.

Bucky put that signature panty-dropping grin on and came closer to you, staring down into your eyes as he towered above you, “You know, sweetheart,” He began, making Lucy giggle on your shoulder, “Maybe you should listen to your devil sometime. She’s got all the good ideas.” He finished before walking around you and to the elevator, disappearing through the doors.

“You should’ve kicked him in the shin.”

You and Mickey both look over at Lucy as she floated off your shoulder and in front of you, “What?” You ask.

“He could’ve dropped his towel if you kicked him in the shin. Then we could see the rest of him.”

You scowled at Lucy, “Shut up.” You told her before continuing on your way to the training room. You started with some weight lifting before moving onto punching the bag while Lucy and Mickey sat behind you on the ropes of the boxing ring bickering as they usually did. They both fell oddly silent and when you turned around to check on them, there was Bucky again towering over you inches away, making you jump, “Holy shit!” You gasped out, “You need a fucking bell, Barnes.” You hissed out at him for scaring you.

Bucky clicks his tongue at you, taking a step forward until you backed up against the boxing bag, a smirk growing on his lips as he had you cornered in, “Now, now Y/N. I’m not sure how your angel would feel about that kind of language.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Mhmm…”

You leaned over to look around him, glaring at your deities before straightening back up and looking back up at him, “What do you want? I thought you were done with training this morning.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, “Keeping track of my schedule, doll?” He asks, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair that was stuck to your lip away and tucks it behind your ear.

You scowled at him, crossing your arms across your chest, “As if. Did you forget about the towel thing already?” You sneer out. You couldn’t deny it though, his light touch to your cheek made you blush and a shiver run up your spine. Bucky was hot but to you he was also a walking cesspool from all the women he had flaunting over him. At first you had the biggest crush on him but that quickly turned to slight disgust mixed with your crush. But when he was standing over you like this, lightly sweeping away a strand of hair, your knees felt weak and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Oh I couldn’t forget the face you made when you saw me nearly naked. It was the most beautiful look I’ve ever seen.” Bucky grins down at you, taking another step closer so your bodies were almost touching and he reaches up his arms over your head to rest his hands on top of hanging punching bag, practically cornering you in, “Came to see if you needed any help.”

You stare up into those stupid, pretty blue eyes of his, biting your bottom lip at how close he is. You eventually advert your gaze from his eyes and look around him, anywhere but that hypnotizing stare, “No thanks. I’m just about done.”

“Oh booooo! You two should wrestle. That’d be hot.”

“Lucy!” Mickey began then paused, “Yeah you have a point.”

“So you’re on my side now about tall, dark, and handsome?”

“He may talk like a devil but he looks like an angel.”

Bucky grins, his eyes never leaving yours as he listened to your deities’s conversation, “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your little deities think I’m the best of both worlds.” He leans his face down, closer to yours. He was so close that he could capture your lips in a moment if he wanted to and you wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him, “You just gotta give me a chance.”

You stared back into his eyes before moving your gaze down to his lips, watching his tongue flicker out and sweep across the bottom one lightly which cause you to let out a jagged breath. You quickly remembered who Bucky was and ducked down under his arms and away from him, “No thanks, Barnes. I’m not going to be just another girl that sneaks out of your room when you’re done.” You say, going over to the bench and picking up your water bottle and making your way out of the training area.

“Who said you’d be just another girl?” Bucky tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he watches you go, waving to your deities as they passed him to follow you out, “And who said anything about sneaking out, darlin’? I’d let you stay all night and every night after!” He called out before you slammed the door behind you. What he said was true though, Bucky would give up all the one night stands and flirting with other women if you would just give him a chance. He honestly liked you, almost to the point where the crush had grown into being in love with you. And now that you had a little devil on your shoulder that spoke all your dirty thoughts, he knew you felt some sort of the same way. He hadn’t brought another woman home since Lucy started making remarks and he noticed you would blush and quickly exit a room. He never thought he had a chance with you, thought you disliked him. But now he had a chance.

You made your way to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you and let out a deep breath before touching your cheek where Bucky had swiped some of your hair away. It was like you could still feel his touch and it sent another shiver down your spine.

“Is she okay?” Mickey asks, tilting her head at you as she and Lucy sat on your pillow.

“I think she’s getting all warm and fuzzy.” Lucy snickered.

“Warm and Fuzzy?…. Oh!”

“Shut up.” You groan, tossing your water bottle on the bed before making your way to your bathroom and shutting the door behind you to have some alone time from your deities. You pulled off your sweaty clothes from your body before turning on the shower and stepping into the warm water. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back into the warmth, your mind immediately floating to how good you felt with Bucky so close to you. The way his words rolled off his tongue like velvet. And oh god, the way his tongue danced across his bottom lip as he stared right into your eyes. You quickly shook the thoughts from your head and scrubbed yourself clean of sweat and his touch before turning off the shower and pulling a towel around your body. You brushed out your hair in the bathroom before walking out into your bedroom, freezing when you saw Bucky sprawled across your bed talking to your deities. You gripped the towel tighter around you, your eyes wide, “What are you doing?!”

Bucky looked over to you, tilting his head as he ran his eyes up and down your body that was only covered by a towel, “You saw me in only a towel, figured it’s only fair if I saw you.” He teased, placing his arms behind the back of his head on your pillow with a grin set on his lips, “Better than I could’ve imagined, sweetheart.”

You frown a little at him, picking up a book from your desk and throwing it at him which he caught with ease. Damn super soldier reflexes. You watched Mickey and Lucy slowly float from over on the bed by Bucky to sit on your shoulders, “Well can you please go so I can get dressed?”

Bucky set the book down on your bedside table before sitting up on your bed, keeping eye contact with you with every movement he made, “I’ll go on one condition.” He smirked over at you, licking his lips again.

“I hope that one condition is to join him in the bed. Yum.”

You tilted your head to glare at Lucy who quickly made a motion to zip her lips shut before returning your gaze back to Bucky who was standing from your bed and making his way over to you. You back up until your thighs hit the edge of your desk and he’s towering over you once again, “What do you want?”

“Oh he’s close-close.”

Bucky kept walking towards you until he was almost flush against your body but left a little space between. His blue eyes pierced down into yours, the smirk never wavering from his lips, “Have dinner with me tonight, doll.” He says, reaching up a hand to brush his vibranium knuckles across your cheek, making goosebumps crawl up your skin and your knees almost buckle, “Just you and me.”

“She’s getting warm and fuzzy again.”

“Warm and fuzzy over dinner?”

“She’s probably thinking about dessert.”

You shut your eyes tightly at the words of your deities, why did they have to always speak up on what you were feeling at the most inopportune times. You opened your eyes again when you heard Bucky chuckle at their words, meeting his gaze that had been unmoving from your face, “Fine. Dinner. Just dinner.” You mumble out to him, “Now can you please go so I can get dressed?”

Bucky beams at your response, “A deals a deal.” He replied, but didn’t move away from you. He tilts his head as he gave you another look over, biting his bottom lip and scrunching his nose slightly at the sight before meeting your gaze again, “I’ll be cooking. Meet me in the kitchen at six.” He said before learning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before turning and leaving your room, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as he left your room, you walked on shaky legs over to your bed and sat on the edge with a groan. Bucky doesn’t do dinner, let alone cook dinner for the women he brings back. He’s usually on one mission when it came to women and that was to get them in and out of his room as quick as possible.

“Is she okay?”

“Shit, I’m not. Did you see him bite his lip? I almost fainted.”

“Yeah that even had me swooning a little bit.”

“I’m surprised her underwear just didn’t fall off right on the spot.”

“She isn’t wearing underwear.”

“Good point.”

“Okay! Time out!” You yell at them, glaring as your eyes flickered between the two deities. They both looked at you before disappearing into thin air, giving you some peace and quiet to process the deal you just made with Bucky. You took a deep breath, “It’s just dinner.” You tell yourself, throwing your towel into the hamper and changing into some jean shorts and your AC/DC tank. You decided it would be best to just avoid Bucky the rest of the day until dinner then you could go back to avoiding him. You tried to read to waste the time but your mind couldn’t stop drifting to the way Bucky kissed your cheek. It was soft, gentle and hesitant as if he was trying to be some sort of gentleman.

“You’ve read the same page six times.”

“I know.” You mutter out. Your deities had returned after an hour of peace and silence, but luckily they were behaving for the most part. You had another hour before you were supposed to meet Bucky in the kitchen.

“She’s thinking about Bucky.”

“Ooohhhh…. Good thinking?”

“Sexy thinking?”

“Is there a difference?”

You groaned and brought the book up to your face, hiding in the pages, “I don’t know what he’s doing. I feel like the mouse in a game of cat and mouse.”

“I’ll be his mouse any day.”

“Well, maybe he actually likes you?”

“I don’t know if he’s capable of liking anybody in that way.”

“He hasn’t brought anybody back to his bedroom since we showed up and I started airing out your dirty laundry.”

You look over at Lucy, “How do you know that?”

“He’s nice to look at. Sometimes I go stare at him.”

“He invited you to dinner. He hasn’t done that with anybody else before.”

“And he’s cooking. Hopefully naked cooking. Or nothing but an apron on, that’ll work.”

“Yeah, I know. Bucky doesn’t do dinner for his flings, let alone cook for them.” You pause for a moment, “Oh my god, is this a date?”

“Seems like a date.”

“You should put on a skimpy dress.”

You frown at Lucy, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing is wrong with what you’re wearing.” Mickey glared over at Lucy, “You wear whatever you’re comfortable in.”

“Thanks, Mickey.” You mumble out, putting the book down on your bedside table.

“I’m just trying to get you laid. Skimpy dresses work.”

You sigh, standing up and looking at yourself in the mirror, “Maybe I should put pants on instead of shorts so he isn’t eye fucking me.”

“Just more layers for him to strip off of you later.”

“I don’t think covering your legs will work. You were wearing leggings and a hoodie in the training room and he was still trying to undress you with his eyes.”

You bite onto your bottom lip as you look at yourself in the mirror. What was it about you that Bucky liked so much to where he was going to make you dinner? Ask you out on a date? Sure, he’s always made flirty comments with you but you thought that was the normal. He’s never made any towards Natasha which you thought was because she’d kill him in a moments notice but then he’s never flirted with Wanda either. You were the only one in the facility he bothered to flirt with and get all worked up. Maybe he did actually like you? And Lucy just confirmed it so now he was headstrong on asking you out?

Eventually the time came and you slowly walked out of your room and made your way to the kitchen, stopping when you see the table had been set with a nice white cloth, some candles, two wine glasses with a bottle of wine, and some bread.

“Definitely a date.” Mickey whispers in your ear.

Bucky turned from the stove to see you, a grin forming across his lips. He was wearing black jeans with a dark blue henley that seemed about two sizes too small on him, “Hey, sweetheart. Dinner’s just about ready.” He said, walking over to the table and pouring some wine into the glasses before walking over to you with one and stretching it out to you, “We are having steak, potatoes, and some salad. I hope that’s okay. You look beautiful by the way.”

You took the wine glass and nod, “That’s fine.” You say back to him before biting your lip. Beautiful in simple jean shorts and a band t-shirt? You couldn’t sense any lying in his voice and he was looking at you with soft, sincere eyes and a smile, “Thanks. You look good too.”

“Oh, steak. And wine. And candles. You know what they say about steak.”

“What?”

“When a guy buys a girl the most expensive thing on the menu, usually they expect at least a blowjob.”

“Oh. That makes no sense. Why does steak equal blowjob?”

“Oh my god.” You say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, “You two. Gone. Now.” You hiss out at your deities. Once it was silent for a moment, you opened your eyes to see they had disappeared and Bucky standing there with an amused grin on his lips.

“Just so you know, doll, I don’t expect anything.” Bucky said with a grin down at you, stepping closer and gently placing a hand on your hip, “Just wanted to treat you to a nice evening.”

You bit your lip again, the same shiver running up your back as he touched your hip and you wondered if you knew what he was doing to you. You watched him for a moment before speaking, “James, is this a date?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at your question, “You don’t have to consider it one. But I sure do.” He told you, “I’ve always wanted to ask you out, Y/N.” He said with a sincere smile before turning away and going back to the table to grab the plates and head to the stove to dish everything up.

The whole time during dinner, Bucky was nothing but a gentleman to you. He didn’t make any snide, seductive remarks. Instead he spent his time telling you about himself, answering any question you asked honestly. He asked you questions about your hobbies, which he already knew mostly everything about. He asked what books you were currently reading. You had never seen this side of Bucky and for a moment you forgot everything about him being an annoying flirt. It wasn’t until dessert that he turned on flirt back on. Bucky pulled out a slice of chocolate cake he must’ve picked up from a bakery and sat beside you, cutting a pice off with his fork before holding the it in front of your face, “Open up, sweetheart.” He told you, that grin returning to his lips.

You give him a look but opened your mouth and took the bite of chocolate cake, smiling a little, “That is so good.” You say after swallowing the bite. You bit your lip for a moment before taking the fork from him, slicing off a piece and holding it in front of him like he did for you, “Open up.” You say with a teasing smile.

Bucky grins but parts his lip, his teeth scraping slightly against the fork as you pulled it from his lips. He chewed a little before swallowing the piece and leaning a little closer to you, “Mmm. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He purrs out to you.

You blush slightly at his velvety voice, “Yeah, it’s really sweet. Really good.” You reply slightly stumbling over your words, watching him lean in a little closer to you.

“I could think of something sweeter I’d like to try.” Bucky breathed out to you, his face inches from yours now. He took the fork from your hand and set it down on the table without breaking eye contact before lifting his hand to cup your cheek gently. He didn’t move closer to you though, instead scanning your face as if to ask for you permission.

You bit your bottom lip, able to smell the chocolate on his breath as well as the wine. You stared into his eyes, not moving away from his touch or away from him being so close to you. You swore you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, “Then try it.” You whisper out to him.

Within a second after your words, Bucky’s lips were on yours. It was gentle but bruising. His other hand quickly came to rest on your thigh, sneaking up until he reached your hip. He didn’t stop at one kiss, instead he kept laying sweet kisses on your lips, deepening each one until his tongue traced your bottom lip begging for entrance which you happily parted your lips for. He groaned when his tongue danced with yours, pulling you off your chair in one swift movement and onto his lap to have you straddle his waist.

You pulled away for air, not knowing when your fingers got tangled in his dark hair. You look down at him from where you sat on his lap, taking deep breathes as his eyes met yours. His hands were gripping onto your waist and he was licking his bottom lip as if to taste any remnants of your lips.

“Been thinkin’ about doin’ that forever, doll.” Bucky groaned up to you, “First time I saw you… I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about making you my girl.”

“Me too. That was hot.” Lucy said, sitting on the top of the counter with Mickey at her side.

You blushed and hid your face into Bucky’s shoulder at your deities’s words.

“Don’t stop on our account. We are just here for the show.”

“What show?”

“The show of them having hot sex on the table.”

“I don’t think we should watch that show.”

You lift your head to look over at your deities with a glare, “Go away. There will be no hot sex on the table.” You hissed out at them before watching them disappear again. You look back to Bucky who was staring up at you with an amused grin, “I meant that.”

“No sex on the table?” Bucky chuckles out, pulling your hips against his making a small gasp escape your lips, “That’s fine, darlin’. We can start in the bedroom and work our way out here.”

_____________________________________________________________

Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday @stcrryslibrary @redhairedfeistynerd @princessnnylzays

[sweetestlamb]

Clarity

Summary: Master Lee makes his intentions clear to a certain maidservant.

Author's note: This couple is so pure and unexpected but I'm fully on board and hopeful that they will be endgame. Maidservant Kim is so selfless and amazing she literally raised the child that she believes is the son of the man she loved and another woman. And she raised him so well and for that she deserves the world and not whatever BS Park Jin is serving. Enter the green flag himself: Master Chaste Tea ain't working Lee.

Also mini rant but I'll probably be taking a mental break from Tumblr because of the amount of shady posts on here. I feel like every other post is someone writing a think piece of why someone's else's opinion is wrong and why their opinion is the only valid one. It's so exhausting when I come here to chill and look at pretty gifs.

More flowers arrive although she has barely any space left to store them. Simple white buds wrapped with a single blush ribbon and instinctively she knows who they are from. They were hand picked and clearly hand wrapped as well not professionally sent like the rest.

Eventually the flowers from Park Jin wither away despite her frequent changing of the water, it's the flow of nature but the next day another modest bundle of flowers arrive and she can't control the thump in her chest and the smile on her lips.

She doesn't anticipate more because she's never been courted and it would be ridiculous for her to be this late in her life, she has Uk and those that she considers dear friends and that is enough.

Or so she convinced herself a long time ago when the man she loved gave his heart happily to another. There is no resentment or true jealousy because without that painful relation, her precious boy would have never been brought into this world. But she gave up on finding someone to love like that a long time ago, Uk was so young and she was all he had in this cold world.

"Ma'am, you have a guest."

She shakes her head, clearing her mind of unnecessary thoughts. Master Lee is being kind that was all, it was foolish to attach deeper meanings to his innocent actions.

"Let them in."

"Yes, ma'am."

She stands up smoothing her dress although there isn't a wrinkle in sight, a nervous habit that she isn't quite sure why it's presenting itself now.

She swallows the gasp she almost releases as the guest enters the room.

Speak of the devil.

Master Lee enters with all the grace and poise of a man of his standing, the bright fuchsia of the scarf she gifted him peeking from beneath his robes. She never expected him to take such a liking to it as to wear it habitually but it does warm her heart each time she sees him.

She bows modestly greeting him.

His smooth voice fills her ears immediately.

"Maidservant Kim, you look lovely. I apologize for not bringing any flowers today but your beauty would have far surpassed them so it was for the best it seems."'

She keeps her head lowered mostly due to her embarrassment, no one besides her Uk has ever commented on her looks in a complimentary fashion. She's more used to jokes about her looks and feigning indifference to the offhand comments that are made in pure jest but still scar her deeply.

"You're too kind.There's no need to flatter me."

There is pressure on her chin and then her head is lifted up and they are eye to eye.

She can almost feel the sincerity pouring off him as easily as the power he emits.

"I am not one for flattery. I wish I did not think such things in your presence it goes against my teaching and everything I know but I find myself powerless when you are near me."

She is without words. These words are for her and her alone, it doesn't feel real that a man would be brought to such emotion because of her.

"You shouldn't say such things, I might misunderstand your intentions." She offers him a final opportunity to undo what has been done.

"What is there to misunderstand? My actions have been clear, have they not? Is this not how men court women they are interested in still?"

Courting.

The very word she was avoiding because she did not want to misinterpret and make a spectacle of herself but now he has spoken it aloud and removed any stigma or obscurity.

"Courting?" She whispers in shock, blinking slowly before stepping back with a quick turn, hiding her face once more.

"Yes, if you would allow me I would be honored to court you."

Why? Why did he want to do such a thing? She was a mere maidservant and plain to look at, nothing in comparison to the awe inspiring beauty of the woman who had stolen her first's love heart and still had a hold on Park Jin's even deep from her grave.

"Here. This is for you."

The fragrance fills the room before she even turns around, jasmine and lavender swirling in harmonious waves.

"I gathered these for you as I was procuring the ingredients for my tea. I thought you might like to use them to make tea of your own."

Her heart aches from his thoughtful act, she has never requested anything from him but yet he continues to give her more than she deserves.

"I---thank you."

She responds with her back still turned to him despite knowing that she's being rude. She's too overwhelmed to face him, afraid that she'll become emotional in his presence.

"Maidservant Kim, I apologize if I've offended you. But I could not keep these feelings to myself, I've never yearned for another in my years of training not once, until I met you. If there is even a fraction of you that could come to accept me that would be enough for me."

She gulps at his words that sound so much like a confession, yet another thing she did not have to beg or demand from him it was freely given.

She wishes she were not conflicted and that her heart did not imagine another saying these very words. She had taken solace in her bond with Park Jin and when it grew into something worth she had desperately wished that he would court her, as he had Lady Dow-ha all those years ago but that had never came. He had made it abundantly clear that his role as leader of Songrim would always supercede any affection he held towards her. She had grown to believe that this was all she needed, it was better than nothing and more than she had been offered before.

But was it possible for her to have more? Or was she merely fooling herself?

"I am sorry. I cannot give you an answer now. I need time to think..... would that be acceptable?"

She hears a sigh of relief behind her and then a warm chuckle.

"I thought I would be outright rejected so this is far better than I had hoped."

"You believed I would reject you? Yet you still confessed and brought me gifts?"

There's a small pause before she gets a reply.

"Preservation seemed insignificant beside possibility."

Her heart flutters like a bird that has only just learned to take flight, careful and fragile indeed.

"I shall take my leave. I will await your response, if I do not hear from you within a week your silence shall speak for itself."

A week. To inspect her own feelings and make a great decision.

"Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me. I will take my leave."

She hears shuffling behind her and then the snap of the door closing.

Only then does she turn around and see the bundle of herbs he brought her, but something else catches her eye. She steps closer, reaching out one hand to pick it up.

A hairpin.

She had only mentioned to him in passing that she had seen a hairpin in the market that she had considered purchasing but decided against it, finding it unnecessary for a woman of her age who was far past courtship.

It's just as beautiful as it was that day with intricate weaving and a single jade stone offsetting the shimmering gold leaves.

With shaky hands she brings it to the hair and gently pushes in desperate to find a mirror and see her appearance.

"Ah. Now, I can leave."

She jolts at the voice stepping back at the sudden intrusion, she did not hear the door sliding open or his footsteps.

It was the plight of living with and around mages.

She has to stifle the urge to reprimand him for sneaking up on her.

It's only the look on his face that stops her, eyes filled with wonder and fascination as if he's looking at priceless treasures. She blushes under his watchful eye, butterflies running amok in her stomach.

Then as suddenly as he reappeared he leaves once more.

She lifts the bundle of fragrant herbs and brings them close to her chest, sniffing them to clear her racing mind and jumbled emotions.

She does not visit Park Jin that night feigning fatigue nervous that he will uncover her secret, she sips her jasmine tea alone in the still of the night.

She falls asleep with thoughts of another on her mind.

[january31st]

I show up to the party just to leave (Venable x reader)

Summary: After a long time of not seeing each other, your brother invites you to his birthday party.

A/N: Title from Amoeba by Clairo. Her new album is like salt on an open wound, but in the softest way possible, and I love it :'). This has been in the drafts for a month and it was supposed to be a quick one to get me out of a slump :/ oops i guess (also i have no idea what this is or how we got here)

The reader doesn’t know about the whole selling their souls to the devil thing

Warnings: Drug addiction, overdose and hospital mentions. 

Masterlist

~1800 words

The brightness inside Kineros was somehow even worse than outside in the California heat. Its whiteness and clean, modern look took you by surprise, given that your brother’s room back home used to be a mountain of unwashed dishes and dirty clothes, his PC setup the only thing you could look at without getting a headache. 

“This.... is insane Jeff” you said as you took your sunglasses off, squinting very hard.

“I told you! I don’t know what’s so hard to believe about it. The whole multi-million company thing wasn’t convincing enough to make you believe this place is nice?” He said as he led you around to his office.

“Well, I’m just saying that coming from you I expected more of a nerd bunker than a sci-fi spaceship”

“Are your standards really that low Y/N?” he said with his hand on his chest, pretending to be deeply offended.

“Yeah, in the beginning you bragged for months about your Van”

“Oh but you can’t say that a company on the move isn’t cool”

“Sure” you said, shifting your attention to the woman in purple sitting behind the desk.

“Hi, you must be Ms.Venable! I’m Y/N, Jeff’s sister.” You said with your hand stretched out in front of you.

She looked from you to Jeff, and then at your hand, considering whether she should take it or not. Slowly, with the help of her cane, she stood up and shook it.

“And I hear you would be joining us to prepare for tomorrow, although I’ve told Mr. Pfister I have it handled.” She said, shooting your brother a menacing look, but you were too distracted by the feeling of her gloved hand still in yours. Had someone turned off the AC?

“I know Ms. Venable, I just had to show her the place before the party so she would believe it is nice. And by having her help get things ready she would know we didn’t mess things around to make it look better than it is” He said, and when you managed to shift your gaze away from her you noticed how Jeff looked. Someone finally taught him respect?

“If I had met Ms.Venable before, maybe I wouldn’t doubt how nice it is.”

“If you hadn’t left home for so long, maybe you would know more about the company”

“If you didn’t have so much blow up your nose all the time back then, maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to run away!” 

“Awww family reunions are so cute” You turned to the circle door on the left side of the room to see your brother’s work partner leaning against it and looking at you two with a pout.

“Oh… hey Mutt” 

“How is my favourite Pfister doing? I can’t believe how long it has been since I’ve seen you bro!” He said giving you a hug you did not expect.

“Hey! What the hell? Your favourite Pfister? Really? Stop flirting with my sister, asshole” said Jeff.

“I’m not! But it’s true, your sister is the best. Back then before we even dreamt of Kineros, the three of us would have so much fun!” Mutt answered, his arm still around your shoulders.

“Yeah I guess, before you two started your bullshit in between the lines” you said, scratching at your nose.

“Oh, speaking of flirting, how is that girlfriend of yours doing?” Jeff asked.

“Girlfriend? What… Ah. Yeah, well- she..” You laughed “ I swear I can’t make this shit up. Has it been that long since we spoke really?” The topic was making you even more uncomfortable, and you noticed that Ms. Venable was looking at you with an almost curious look? Was it? She was hard to read.

“Well, would you believe it, she fell in love with your dear coke instead.” Jeff looked at you as if he had just broken your favourite toy.

“Yea she just dumped me a while back and hit the streets. I tried to look for her, but she was just gone. I have no clue if she’s even alive.”

“Shit Y/N I’m sorry” Jeff said.

“Are you? Or are you still sniffing lines like a mad man?” 

“Technically not lines no.” He said, smiling at Mutt knowingly.

You took his arm from your shoulders. “So you’re telling me that if I punch your ass right now it wouldn’t be snowing in here?”

When he didn’t answer with anything other than laughter you went on “It’s not funny! None of this is funny Jeff! Not now, and not that time I had to take your ODing ass to the ER! And not on all those times you were in withdrawal!”

He only laughed more, and said “It would be hell if that happened again!”

“Jeff! Have you-”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but the last of the decorations for tomorrow are just arriving.” said Ms. Venable. And despite her low voice, all three of you went silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You worry too much”

“What?” You asked through the pen you were chewing at, with your back still turned to her from the top of the chair, as you exchanged the regular lightbulb with a colorful one from the box you were holding.

She didn’t repeat herself for a while, as if she regretted saying anything in the first place. The past hour or so you had barely exchanged more than a couple words, her impassive looks making you assume she just didn’t like you.

“You worry too much about him.” She said, her voice loud and clear this time.

You stepped down from the chair placing the white bulb on the box she was holding with one hand. Thinking about your brother now made something clench on your stomach. To hide how hard it was to find an answer for her, you went to write a check on the lighting part of your to-do list.

“How could I not?” You asked.

“I must admit his lifestyle is… interesting. But it seems to have worked to bring this company to where it is today.” She said.

“I know he’s your boss, but you don’t have to doll-up how things are around here. And don’t give him more credit than he deserves, he is cocky enough about it.” after a pause you added “I know that if it were up to him, he would still be assembling robots amidst his dirty socks. It doesn’t take much to realise who’s behind everything that isn’t necessarily robots here.”

You reached for the box she was holding to go put it away, and noticed she was standing as still as a statue. Grabbing it from her with the ghost of a friendly smile on your face you went on, since she didn’t seem to know how to answer you this time.

“He used to say it helped him think and work better. And maybe it does but as his sister I can’t just ignore it and pretend I’m okay with it. He never takes things that matter seriously.”

“Before we got here I- for some stupid reason- actually thought he stopped it. He isn’t like he was before. Something has changed about him.”

“It has.” She said. “I think his dedication to the job put him in his tracks somewhat. Whatever his tracks are” She added with a smirk.

Giggling at that, you said, holding the checklist for her to see “Now that we´re done, how about we go get a snack and talk about something that doesn’t involve dumb and dumber or their tragic hairstyles?”

Fighting back a smile, she guided you somewhere you could eat, and said “I’m glad you don’t have a bowl cut too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first hour or so Jeff introduced you to random people at the party, none of them getting much of your attention at all. Fancy and famous people, and though it was hard to believe seeing your brother around them- their nice suits next to his striped shirt, jeans and hoodie- you didn’t feel astonished at all. You felt crushed by everyone around you and took every opportunity to avoid dull conversation.

Some of them were surprised to meet you, to see how his casualty wasn’t a trait you shared, and given that you knew this would be a somewhat big party you did, in fact, dress up to the occasion. You decided to wear a nice blazer over a silk lingerie type shirt, straight legged pants and heels, hair slicked back and makeup dark and bold. Anywhere else you would look out of place, but here you managed to melt into the rest of the well dressed crowd. Thankfully that worked to your advantage so you could be away from the center of attention.

On the quick calls you did have, your brother never failed to gloat about his life and how great things were, and a part of you hoped blindlessly that it would mean he left his bad habits behind. Though now as you stood under the coloured lights it was more than obvious that he wouldn’t change, and all the bad memories from his addiction came back to you at once. Overwhelmed by your thoughts and the ambient itself, you made your way to the outside of the building unaware of the tic-toc of a cane following you.

“Where are you going?” her voice pulled you back to reality.

“I don’t know. Just away from this” you said, hand waving in the air. Then you took a second to look at her, as formally dressed as the day before, lilac suit and all, only her expression had changed. Though you knew she would never admit it, her face was contorted in a plea, almost begging for you to stay.

“I thought he changed. I really did. Like a foolish fucking child.”You blurted out.

“You don’t have to leave like this.” She stated, sounding disinterested despite herself.

“I do. I really do.”

“I never come to these events… I hate these people just as much as you do.” You narrowed your eyes at her, waiting for the rest of it, and when it didn’t come you asked “What made you come this time?”

After a long pause she said “I was surprised to meet you. I would never believe your brother had someone as… prudent and sensible in his life.” Another pause. “I’m trying to say don’t leave m-” She stopped herself.

“Then take me somewhere” You said without thinking, looking straight into those brown eyes as they seemed to soften. And for the first time her face twisted into what was definitely, unmistakably, a smile, and all you could do was smile right back.

“Come along then”

[lucky-dreamfisher]

Queer Subtext in The Illusion of Living - Part 5/5

It’s time to address the elephant in the room: Henry.

Joey tries very, very hard to ‘no homo’ his relationship with the man:

“His presence was helpful, I can happily admit, but his absence was even more so. Not having him at the studio ended up being one of the best things that could have happened to it. Of course, the funny thing is, I couldn't have not had him without having him in the first place. Just like you can't appreciate the light if you haven't spent time in the dark, so too does a person's absence become clear only if he has been around.” TIOL, page 154

“A letter from Henry. You might not think I'd keep such a thing, but I do. I have no ill will toward the man as you know. Him leaving, as I said, was the best thing that could have happened to the studio. His letter reminds me of that.” TIOL, page 218

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

The only hint we get regarding Joey’s true feelings for Henry is the following note by Nathan:

“NateA: Joey has always been a professional person, far more so in many ways than me. That is why this section of the book is so forgiving of the man who abandoned the studio he helped create. Joey can't help but see the good in people. That being said, as a good friend of Joey's, I know that Henry's departure was a great upheaval for him and a great personal betrayal. Joey never truly forgave Henry, and I don't think he should have felt obligated to. The fact that Joey is so gracious in this part of the book is a reflection of his incredible generosity in allowing Henry Stein to be stainless in the eyes of history. I think, had he lived longer, Joey might have in later years called it his greatest illusion.” TIOL, page 155

I’m very surprised by the harshness in Nathan’s tone here. Especially since Henry appears to believe that he and Joey have parted on good terms, and Joey admits that they have continued to exchange letters for a while after Henry’s departure. We’ve also seen Henry’s note to Joey in the game, and it comes across as warm and supportive:

It really doesn’t sound like anything ugly happened between him and Joey. So then why are both Joey and Nathan convinced that Henry is a monster?

While I can believe that Joey is pathetic enough to consider anyone who slights him his worst enemy, Nathan comes across as a more level-headed person. So for him to voice his approval for Joey’s petty grudge must mean that he knows something that we don’t. But what could it be?

Honestly, nothing else comes to mind except for romantic heartbreak. It’s the only thing that could justify a man holding such a deep grudge for so many years. This isn’t Joey’s first friendship that grew apart over the years - his army friends have moved on with their life as well. It’s a normal part of life and there’s nothing in TIOL that would suggest Joey is unable to cope with that. We also know that the studio did fine for quite some time after Henry’s departure, so it’s not like Henry left Joey deep in debt. Henry wasn’t even the only animator at the studio:

“When the studio opened I surrounded him with artists of all skill levels, and the Writing Department had its own de facto leader in Mr. Hemmings, and so the whole of Creative was well managed for that first year of the company before I had to part ways with Henry.“ TIOL, page 155

And so we’re left with only one rational explanation: that Joey isn’t so much hurt by Henry leaving his job, as by the fact that Henry left specifically for the sake of his marriage.

Try as I might, I found no reference to Linda in TIOL. Even though Joey claims to have been friends with Henry for many years, he makes zero mention of ever having met Linda. While there are some hints that Henry wasn’t yet married to her at the time when he and Joey opened the studio together (such as the fact that he claims he hasn’t seen her in “days” even though he presumably slept at home, implying that he and Linda weren’t living together at the time. A shopping list among his notes in the Handbook also suggests that he cooked his own meals, which would be unusual for a married man with a demanding job), the two were already a couple by then, and must have known each other for a while already. Surely, as Henry’s friend, Joey would have met her?

Even when talking about Henry leaving, Joey uses a cryptic language:

“Henry left for his own reasons, and the correspondence between us became less and less. To be honest, it was almost like a weight off when he left. He had grown more sensitive as the studio became more successful and giving him pep talks had become exhausting for me. All the good qualities he brought, the hard work and diligence, were being undermined by a restless need for something different. Something that wasn't Bendy. I will never understand that drive. Bendy was and is perfection.“ TIOL, page 177

In DCTL Norman claims that Henry left to spend time with his wife. Why doesn’t Joey say that? It doesn’t make him look bad to admit that an employee left to enjoy a quiet family life. It’s almost like he refuses to acknowledge Linda’s existence at all. Like it’s too painful for him to speak of her.

Perhaps the “personal betrayal” that Nathan is referring to is related to Henry choosing a real family, over the “studio family”, and the possibility of having a real child, as opposed to a fictional one?

The symbolic image of Bendy as a child shows up multiple times in the game: for example the drawing from Henry appears to depict Bendy, Alice and Boris as a happy family, with Bendy holding onto their hands like a child would:

There’s also Alice using a womb imagery to describe the ink machine:

And of course, the final monologue is centered on Henry’s choice to pursue a family:

That monologue is very interesting if we assume Joey to be gay. Because a gay man would never have been able to follow Henry’s road. Gay!Joey could never choose to have a real family with a man he loved, because that option was denied to him by the homophobic society he was living in. The studio is the closest thing to a family that gay!Joey could ever hope to have. 

And evidently, that was not enough for Henry.

If Joey’s indeed gay, that must have felt incredibly unfair to him - knowing that he had no chance of happiness in marital bliss from the start, through no fault of his own. This would explain his desire to create a real, living, breathing Bendy, no matter the cost, just to prove to Henry that Joey’s “child” can be just as real as the one Linda could give him.

“Bendy was Joey's child, and he felt just as strongly about Bendy as I feel about my flesh-and-blood son.“ TIOL, page 2

This idea of an illusory choice very much resembles the choice between the Angel Path and the Devil Path in Chapter 3. It’s the only choice that Henry ever gets to make in the game, yet no matter which way he chooses, he still ends up in the same corridor. Some of the golden messages highlight his helplessness:

The symbolic meaning of the choice between the Angel and the Devil also shows up TIOL. There’s a scene in the book, where Joey writes a play about an Angel and a Devil fighting over the soul of a human man. Eventually, the Devil confesses that he doesn’t want the human to make his choice, because then one of them would have to leave. The play was supposed to end with the man making his choice, but according to Joey they lacked a third actor, so the ending was never played out.

I believe that the play is symbolic of the relationship between Henry and Joey, specifically with regards to Henry choosing a relationship with Linda over his friendship with Joey.

There are several reasons that lead me to believe this:

The human in the play making a choice between the Angel and the Devil is reminiscent of Henry choosing between Devil Path and Angel path in BATIM.

The play highlights that the Devil is on the left side of the human, while the Angel is on his right side:

“ANGEL: Spending my time with a devil has been an enlightening experience. Working with you over these years with you sitting on that left shoulder, so far and yet so near, all our debates, they were invigorating for the spirit. 

DEVIL: I won't miss you! Fighting all the time, trying to trick you into agreeing with me, trying to push you off that right shoulder of yours. The violence and the anger. I won't miss it at all!”, TIOL page 89

Much like the Devil Path is on the left side in the game, while the Angel path is on the right side:

The Devil is obviously a stand-in for Bendy. Joey even dances on the stage at one point, and one of Bendy’s nicknames is “The Dancing Demon”. Joey also claims that the Devil from the play was an inspiration for Bendy:

“Let's start with the basic idea of a cartoon.You need a main character. Someone who has adventures and who the audience relates to." I did. I needed that. I needed a character who didn't just reflect the general population back to itself, but a more exciting version. I had no interest in moralizing, besides I didn't think moralizing was particularly realistic. People don't see the world as one populated by do-gooders. I thought of the angel in my play. She could never be a lead character. The devil on the other hand…” TIOL, 165

The fact that Joey claims the ending was never played out is strongly reminiscent of the missing ending of the Tombstone Picnic

It’s possible that Joey is lying about the ending not having been played out, to hide Henry’s role in the success of the play, much like he removed his part in Tombstone Picnic. After all, what would be the point of writing a play for 3 actors, when you only have 2? Why not ask someone to play the 3rd?

Although the play itself is centered more on the relationship between the Devil and the Angel, rather than their relationship with the human, there is still a strong queer symbolism in the play:

“Abby shifted nervously next to me the whole evening. She was in a dress for the first time in a long time, white and soft. I was pleased she'd come in character. For my part the only red thing I owned was a garish bow tie, so that was all I was able to contribute visually.” TIOL, page 82

The angel is played by a woman, who usually wears men’s clothing, but of course, the Angel being a symbol of Christian values couldn’t possibly be portrayed breaking the gender norms. She had to wear a dress, though Abby is clearly uncomfortable in it. She’s essentially performing heteronormative feminity. Next to her we have Joey as the Devil, dressed in a red bow tie, which as I’ve mentioned in the first part of this analysis, used to be a symbol of homosexuality. 

This contrast between the uncomfortably heteronormative Angel and flamboyantly queer Devil is striking. It’s also very much in line with the views of the society in the 1920s. For something to be the symbol of purity and goodness, it has to be heterosexual, and the Devil is queer, because he’s also the symbol of sin.

That symbolism could be indicative of Joey’s own internalized homophobia. Back in his army days, his friends used to bully him for breaking gender norms. Joey likes to present himself as the hero, who was easily able to outsmart the bullies, but many of his later remarks in the book and in DCTL show that some of that attitude has left a deep mark on him.

The symbolism could also be intentional. Joey boasts about having personal ties to Noel Coward, a real life gay playwright, who was known for his many affairs with men, and for putting an ungodly amount of queer symbolism in his works:

“The old woman took a liking to me, and she was nice enough. Besides, her connections were incredible. She knew everyone, she even had the playwright Noel Coward come to stay with her whenever he was in town.” TIOL, page 144

There’s a lot of evidence pointing to the play being symbolic of Henry’s choice between his relationship with Linda and with Joey. But it’s also symbolic of Henry’s choice between Bendy, and a real child. The studio family, and a traditional family. Heteronormative relationship vs a queer relationship. 

Although there’s no indication in canon that Henry might be bisexual, he doesn’t need to be. The game has beaten into our heads that the “choice” is an illusion. Henry was never going to choose the Devil, or at least that’s what Joey believes. Although we’re never told what choice the human in the play was going to make, we’re told that he was supposed to be dressed in white, which suggests that he chose the Angel. 

“(The door stage right opens. A man all in white enters calmly and chooses a seat, brushes it off carefully and sits. He takes his hat off and holds it gingerly in his lap.) (Quiet.) (Curtain.) THE END” TIOL, page 91

That might be why the Devil in the play confesses that he doesn’t want the human to make his choice, fearing that one of them will have to leave once such a choice is made:

“DEVIL: You think he has made a choice? 

ANGEL: It is possible. 

DEVIL: Do you think he might be all bad? 

ANGEL: I hope he is all good. 

DEVIL: If he is all bad, my job here is done. If he is all good, you can go home. 

DEVIL: Strange. If we win we also lose. You would think that would be something I would find delightful. 

ANGEL: You would think I would love to make such a personal sacrifice.” TIOL, page 89

The line about a “personal sacrifice” is very interesting in this context. The Angel and the Devil clearly care for each other and for the human, and don’t want their relationship to come to an end. Though the Devil in the play seems to make gestures that the audience interprets as romantic in nature, Joey insists that it isn’t the case:

“I leaned in and placed a hand on Abby's knee. There was a gasp from someone in the audience, but I knew Abby wouldn't be flustered by it. That wasn't the nature of our relationship.” TIOL, page 89 

It makes me wonder if perhaps Linda and Joey used to be friends at some point, and both competed over Henry’s attention.

There’s a much overused trope in fiction where two men compete over a woman, which ends up ruining their friendship. It would be really interesting and subversive to see a man and a woman competing over a man instead.

EDIT: I can’t believe I forgot to add this part:

"Joey, thanks for coming," said Henry, approaching from behind us. I turned to look at him He had dressed up for the event but every item of clothing looked slightly wrong. The sleeves of his shirt a bit short, his vest a bit long, his tie askew. He smiled, though, with such confidence that I couldn't help admire him. I still do.” TIOL, page 160

Joey fell for Henry’s smile, how romantic!

“We watched in silence as he worked. Despite his lack of genius, to this day, I will always say that watching Henry work was a real pleasure.“ TIOL, page 173

“It's fascinating. Henry was never the showman like I was. He didn't tend to be easily remembered by those who met him when we did business. I was invariably the face of the company, the one introduced first at a gala, the one to whom people slipped their business cards.Yet in the end he ended up setting up camp in this small corner of my memory. I can't deny that he is tied to the creation of Bendy, to the creation of the studio itself. That at one time, in one small apartment, one too warm evening, we had shaken hands. That once upon a time we had been partners. He'll always be there, in the dark recesses of my mind. Always linked to me that way. Funny how the forgettable man is now forever in my mind” TIOL, page 177

[iamtheblondestblonde]

The Clark Kent Effect

Part One

AN: So this is meant to be the beginning of a (semi short) series, depending on how well it’s received. Feedback is therefore more than appreciated and always remember I love reading tags. Feel free to message me or send me anons as well, every interaction makes my day :) 

To all my American followers: please go vote tomorrow, I don’t even live there but I still know how important it is.

Word Count: 2.9k (short boi)

Warnings: alcohol and one swear word maybe? 

Part Two

My other writing can be found here

While your costume had seemed like a great idea two days ago you now thought differently.

Technically it was a great costume, but only because you hadn’t exactly planned on needing to step out of the club to make an angry phone call. Alas here you were, legs shaking and teeth clattering because of your stupidly short dress, this situation the last nail in the coffin that would finally pronounce your disaster with Colin dead for good. You weren’t sad about it in the least, only cold. If only you’d thought of grabbing your jacket on your way outside this wouldn’t be as bad, it was the end of October and you were in New York after all, but you’d been so angry to see his caller ID on your screen that you’d stormed out without thinking, which you now deeply regretted.

Stepping back inside was like heaven and running into a wall at the same time, if said wall was made out of hot air and the smell of sweat, hairspray and alcohol. You really shouldn’t be happy about stuffy air, but at least you weren’t shivering anymore so you were going to mark it down as a success in your books. Since the restrooms were close to your right you made a quick detour, checking if everything was still where it was supposed to be.

At least your boobs hadn’t fallen out yet and you dismissed the judgy stares in the restroom as you readjusted your cleavage and reapplied your bold red lipstick. Normally you’d stare as well, not judging but usually intrigued by women who portrayed such confidence but tonight you were one of these women and you wouldn’t let anyone else ruin it. You’d earned a good night out after finally escaping Colin’s manipulative fuckboy ways and telling him to get lost for good.

So with your chin up and your shoulders straight you stepped out of the restroom, determined to find your group of friends again so you could get drunk and finally have a good time. It took a bit longer than you’d like to admit, your heels only barely giving your tiny frame a height advantage but then you finally spotted the fluffy halo of your best friend. After making sure that it was really her – there were enough angels in this room to make any priest happy after all – you quickly made your way over to her.

Or at least you tried.

You’d only gotten a few steps in when your heel got caught in the costume of a guy dressed up as mummy – which really only consisted of his regular clothes and what you estimated to be about three rolls of toilet paper – and you stumbled. You could already see yourself in the emergency room of the closest hospital with a broken nose from crashing to the ground, blood running down your face and staining your already red dress. Perhaps you could play it off as a part of your costume but it’d still hurt and your night would definitely be over.

But none of that happened because you were saved by a very handsome Superman. He’d stood with his back to you, you’d definitely spotted his broad shoulders underneath the stretched blue fabric earlier, but he’d turned in your direction right before gravity had decided to take its toll on you. Apparently his costume was justified though, because he caught you with cat-like reflexes, wrapping his hands around your arms and pulling you back towards an upright position before anything damaging could happen.

He was a lot taller than you so the first thing you really noticed of him was his throat and perhaps you really should’ve dressed up as a vampire because you noticed that he had a very sexy throat, if that was even a thing. Your weird thoughts were interrupted by him chuckling though and your gaze quickly snapped up to meet his and you really weren’t sure if you should congratulate or scold yourself for how you’d managed to end up in his arms.

The handsome stranger was wearing glasses in true Clark Kent fashion and his hair was better than any DC artist could have dreamed of, perfectly tousled in the way that showed that he liked to run his hands through it and you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t tempted to do the same. In the dim lighting of the club you couldn’t make out the color of his eyes behind his glasses but they could honestly be yellow and he’d still be hot as fuck.

Sometime during your almost-fall your hands had ended up on his chest and you really should be embarrassed about the fact that you were practically feeling him up but somehow you couldn’t find yourself to care enough to let go. You relaxed your hands from the tight grasp they had on his shirt and instead carefully splayed them out on his chest as if you were going to push yourself off of him but not really doing so. With how you were pressed against him you could feel the heat radiating through his shirt and how firm his body was, his muscular built more and more evident with every passing second. His hands had started to wander as well, moving up from the side of your arms towards the top of your shoulders, the size of them burning itself into your mind as you just stared at each other.

If one were to ask you what day it was right this moment, you honestly wouldn’t be able to answer them despite everyone in this club dressed in Halloween costumes. Mozart himself could have returned from the dead to perform “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” with a string quartett in the middle of this dancefloor and you probably wouldn’t have noticed right now, too caught up in the eyes of this handsome stranger.

When he reached up with one of his hands to adjust the little devil’s horns on top of your head you blinked in surprise, finally snapping out of your daze.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, I totally didn’t mean to crash into you but my heel got caught and-“, you began to ramble, your sense of common decency finally kicking in but he only laughed and since neither of you had taken a step backwards yet you could feel it rumbling through his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind having beautiful girls quite literally falling for me”, he joked and if he were any other guy you probably would’ve scoffed at his choice of words but somehow the boyish charm worked well for him and you found yourself grinning as you came up with a response.

“Mmm let’s hope this isn’t a normal occurrence for you because I’m not a fan of getting caught in traffic.” You finally found the strength to take a, very reluctant, step back, untangling yourself from his grasp and dropping your hands but still smiling up at him. He definitely had the potential to be your catch for the night. You could really use the distraction after all.

Your blissful thoughts were interrupted by someone tugging at your arm though, a look over your shoulder revealing a pouting angel dressed in white and with a bouncing halo. It seemed like Emily had found you instead after you’d gotten distracted by your hero.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over the place for you”, she whined and you could tell by her slurred words that she’d gotten quite the head start while you were outside on your phone as she was well on her way to get plastered. Otherwise she never would’ve interrupted a conversation with a hot guy either, it was an unspoken wingwoman rule after all.      

“Come on, Dana just brought a new round of shots and you need to catch up!” And with that she tightened her grip on your wrist and pulled you away. You barely managed to tell the handsome stranger to come find you later before he disappeared between the writhing bodies and was out of your sight.

Way too many shots later you found yourself on the dance floor, intoxicated and having a great time.

Your thoughts hadn’t wandered to Superman in quite a while, too consumed by alcohol and the thumping beat of the music, until you spotted him leaning against the banister of the top floor, drink in one hand and definitely watching you. Again, this would be creepy if he were anyone else but in this case it only made you appreciate the current sensual song even more, your eyes never leaving his as you moved your body to the beat. You were planning on going home with him later either way, you could tease him a little more before then, show him what he could have if he played his cards right.

He was still watching you a couple of songs later when your throat had gotten dry and your heels were starting to grow uncomfortable. In need of a break you pointed towards the bar, hoping that he’d understand and when he nodded you smiled brightly, excusing yourself from your group of friends so you could grab some water. You were done drinking for tonight, much more exciting things laying ahead of you and you wanted to be sober for them.

Water was apparently a welcome change from the regular orders the bartenders got because you were served immediately, a cool bottle set in front of you seconds later. You checked over your shoulder before taking a sip, spotting your Superman as he made his way towards you with a smile, one you returned before turning back around to climb on the stool that had just freed up so you could give your feet a well-deserved break.

When you felt a tap on your shoulder you fully expected it to be the hot guy, your most dazzling smile instantly on your lips as you turned around but it quickly fell off your face as you realized who it really was.

When you were younger you’d often imagined yourself in this moment, thought of what you’d say when you’d finally see him again after all this time apart. A small part of you had pined after him for years and fantasies of how your eyes would meet from across the room and how everything else would stop mattering had filled your daydreams once upon a time. But as you looked at him now there were no butterflies, no fireworks and you could still hear some remix of “Monster Mash” blaring over the speakers, the world was definitely still turning.

Perhaps you’d built up what had been between the two of you in your mind in the years of his absence, put him on a pedestal – he deserved to be one though because through everything he had been nothing short of a great guy – but as you looked at him you realized that all that was in the past. There was just a warm afterglow of what once was. As you looked at him now, there was absolutely no doubt that you didn’t love Anthony Beauvillier anymore.

“I wasn’t sure if it was really you, but wow Y/N you look great”, his familiar voice met your ears and it took you a second to realize that he’d slipped into French, the way the two of you had done countless times as teenagers.

You probably resembled a fish with the way you were opening and closing your mouth without saying anything but you couldn’t help yourself. Seeing Tito in this club had hit you like a fright train and you hadn’t expected it at all, which only made it worse.

Almost 20 Million people lived in New York State and over 8.3 Million in New York City alone. Brooklyn housed well over 500.000 people as well and yet you still managed to run into your ex in this club, despite the both of you growing up in Québec. If you were any good at math you would calculate the probability of this happening but you’d always sucked at it and it really wouldn’t help your situation either. You reminded yourself that you both worked here now but that was absolutely beside the point.

Before you managed to embarrass yourself even further you shook your head to clear your thoughts, smiling at the guy who had once held your heart before making the break into the NHL. He was dressed as a boy scout, with medals pinned to his shirt, the scarf thingy and everything and the costume was so incredibly him that you immediately felt catapulted back into your teenage years. It was easy to fall back into your old routine then.

“Oh yeah, do you think your Mom would still speak so highly of me if she saw me dressed as a slutty devil?”, you joked and he threw his head back in laughter, taking you even more by surprise when he threw his arms around you in a hug. It was a bit awkward with you sitting on the bar stool and all and it made you realize that he himself didn’t even feel the same anymore, his career of being a professional athlete shaping his body into a much more bulkier version of the one you were used to.

As you looked over his shoulder you caught the gaze of your Superman and your thoughts immediately returned to him. What must he be thinking of you hugging another stranger at the bar after telling him to come see you? The confusion was evident of his face, a crease between his eyebrows giving his thoughts away and you noticed how he scrunched up his nose in a very cute way so you immediately pulled back from Tito, reaching up to adjust your horns as a disguise for your sudden movement.

“So, did you finally manage to make your dreams of living and working in New York City come true?”, he asked as he took a step closer to let someone else pass by and you nodded, amazed that he still remembered after all these years. He really was one of the good guys.

“Yep, I finally made it, although it’s not as glamorous as I thought it would be. But maybe that’s only us working class people, I’m sure it’s a lot different in your line of work.” Thankfully he picked up on your teasing and wasn’t insulted, only laughing even more as he finally had the space to move next to you so he could look at the crowd as well.

“Speaking of work..”, he trailed off as he switched back to English and to your utter disbelief he waved your Superman over. Superman was reluctant to move at first, that much you could tell by looking at him, and since you watched him extra closely you were probably the only one to catch him flinching a little as Tito threw his arm around his shoulders but his confused expression was obvious as he looked between the two of you.

“Y/N, this is my teammate and best friend Mat, I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Mat, this is my ex Y/N. You’ve also heard of her.”

Of course you’d heard of Mathew Barzal, last year’s Calder winner and rising star among the NHL’s elite players but it seemed like you were a victim of the Clark Kent Effect because you hadn’t recognized him at all with the glasses on.

Now your Superman had a name but the only thing you could focus on were the words “best friend”. No matter how hot Mat was and how much you’d wanted him before, very much imagining him helping you out of your tight dress, you couldn’t do that to Tito.

Mat seemed to come to the same realization as you because he plastered what could only be described as a business smile on his face, extending his hand for you to shake. You took it, relishing in the way his warm palm felt against yours and allowing yourself to enjoy his touch one last time before letting go and smiling at him with sad eyes as you introduced yourself.

Tito stayed to order a drink, pulling Mat and you into a conversation and therefore preventing your escape and while that was already bad enough in itself, he unknowingly took your breath away when he asked Mat:

“Hey, did you ever find that hot klutz you told me about? The one that fell into your arms earlier?”

Tito had his back towards the both of you so he didn’t see the way Mat looked down at you with sad eyes as well before pulling himself together and responding:

“Yeah, but turns out she’s not available after all.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur, you’d returned to alcohol after saying goodbye to Tito and Mat and promising Tito to stay in touch, so you barely remembered climbing into an uber hours later and only really came to your senses when you chugged a water bottle in your kitchen.

“Wait, weren’t you planning on going home with that hot Superman you mentioned earlier? What happened to him?”, Emily asked from her spot on the couch, her usual spot after a night out since your apartment was closer.

“I guess he left”, you answered, not really willing to go into any details right now.

“Aw, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

And wasn’t that the truth.

[takaraphoenix]

Cruella: Review

There’s a lot to unpack here. Spoilers below the cut. Duh.

The unspoilered short version: Man, this movie was bad. But man, this movie was good.

This movie is if Ocean’s 11 met The Devil Wears Prada and the Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss meme, but Produced By DisneyTM.

Confused? Good.

Let’s start at the beginning.

The first ten minutes or so might be the cringiest bullshit I’ve seen in quite a while. Ooof, that was hard to get through, three times I nearly quit on the spot.

The first, I’d say half of it maybe, were...

If you take this as an actual Disney movie with Disney money put into the writing and thinking of it, man that’s a whole load of cringey dumb nonsense.

If this weren’t a Disney movie, this would be bloody brilliant, because the whole thing comes off like a Disney parody. From the “lol she has her split hair but it’s natural for literally no apparent reason at all” to the “also dalmatians Killed Her Mother” and “because Disney girl, she’s an orphan now” and of course the disturbingly intelligent Disney Animal SidekickTM that seemed so incredibly displaced in a not animated movie and one where the POV are the humans while the animals don’t speak.

This had all the markings of a delightfully silly Disney parody.

Which makes it an incredibly bad Disney movie. Because it doesn’t have the Enchanted charm of intentional self-awareness and poking fun at yourself. It comes off as clumsy and unintentional.

The cast’s brilliant.

The Emmas are absolutely carrying this movie and I think with a different cast, this would not have worked at all. And it’s more than just the Emmas, the whole cast just works, they’re amazing. They play it with the right balance of seriousness and complete camp that makes it come off as a parody.

Part of what makes it seem like a parody is just how they are truly pretending there was a twist there. With the “I am your mother” thing. Anyone who’s ever watched a movie must have known going in that the Baroness is going to turn out to be Cruella’s birth mom, I mean, come on, they projected it so hard. They didn’t even try to make it a twist.

(I can’t get over the “dalmatians killed her mom” bit, I’m sorry. Pause for me to laugh hysterically to myself.)

Let’s talk about the hair.

Why.

Just.

Why.

Even Once Upon a Time had the presence of mind to make that not a natural occurence. And they... didn’t even make it pay off? At all? I kept expecting her to pull off the Baroness’ wig and reveal the trademark black and white hair. A family trait. Solid unshakable proof she is her daughter.

Particularly with the way the Baroness kept her hair covered with some variety of headdress or overly ridiculous wig-hairdo-things. I was so sure there was a reason for that. But then the flashbacks of the pregnancy and birth, nothing, and the movie ends, still nothing.

So, why was that silly, unrealistic detail necessary, exactly? It could have been her persona as Cruella, she starts making a fuss as the fashion designer Cruella and creates this look for herself. To make it her natural hair... there was no point to it, aside from making things weirder and more unrealistic.

I also do have to mention Disney’s once again first ever gay rep. This one’s even worse than the last, I think five, of their first ever queers. Because he isn’t even queer in the movie. At. All. I thought, until the end, that him and Horace might kiss. But... we are really just supposed to assume him as default gay for being the Flamboyant Fashionable Gay Stereotype. That’s a new low when it comes to gay rep, even for Disney. And those are the guys who brought us “unnamed extra nr 5 speaks of having a date with a man at the beginning of Endgame” and “two unnamed women kiss for 0.2 seconds in a Star Wars movie”. At least there was actual confirmation of queerness. And not just “he dresses and behaves like the gay archetype so like that totes counts as rep”. Yikes. Even for you, Disney. Yikes.

Totally loved the found family feel of it all though and the fact that they didn’t force a romance between Estella and Jasper.

And I adored the ending. Faking her own death and blaming it on the Baroness was poetic, brilliant and really refreshing because I was so sure she was gonna have the dogs maul the Baroness to death in revenge. Nice one.

The best part though, not gonna lie, was the entire middle part. The The Devil Wears Prada section of it, if you will. Cruella upstaging the Baroness was amazing and so much fun to watch.

The last gripe I have with it was the mental illness angle. Aside from the whole “psycho” thing concerning the Baroness and the vocally expressed implication that Cruella inherited that from the Baroness and that’s why she is Cruella, there’s also the whole... Estella-Cruella thing. It felt much like Hollywood’s stereotypical portrayal of split-personality, even if it was not labeled as such in the movie. Either way, the movie heavily leaned on the “crazy makes villain! Villain is crazy!!!” angle and... it’s 2021, come the fuck on, especially with something where the source material itself didn’t demonize mental illness in that way, like you’re not even adapting something where that’s ingrained into the story. Why did you have to go there.

I feel like Anita and Roger have to be mentioned, briefly. Much like in the movie. Such a throwaway strange thing to do, quite honestly. Anita went from being her only and best friend in childhood to her... kind of helper reporter lady. But that’s supposed to be the Anita who will work for her and whose dogs Cruella is going to try and murder and in the set up of this movie, that just makes no sense at all, quite frankly.

So, yeah, this movie is a hell of a mixed bag. It was incredibly cringey, but also incredibly enjoyable, the designs and acting were amazing, the writing was less than sub-par, if it weren’t a Disney movie it’d be a brilliant parody but as a Disney movie it feels much like the “how do you do, fellow kids?” meme, as though Disney is trying something but doesn’t quite know how to grasp it because they’re out of touch, and, as always, the representation is just... sad, but what else is new.

[childrenofthesunny]

Seek Him Who My Soul Loveth (1/2)

For my spin on @gayforgoodomens‘ Priest AU, for when she wondered off-hand how Crowley and Aziraphale might go about having sex for the first time, whilst simultaneously still pining/pretending they’re not breaking their vows. So, naturally, off I went to write what’s looking like will be a 6-7,000 word fic about it.

Listen, the only thing stopping me from turning this AU into a full-blown multichapter fic is (a) my knowledge of the workings of Catholicism being limited to some brief skimming of Wikipedia and what little of church I remember from when I was 7 and (b) I already have a multichapter WIP being posted, and I know I don't have the attention span to maintain two major WIPs simultaneously.

But I want to

(That being said, this is in two parts; part two should be done in a few days.)

If you prefer, you can also read this on Ao3 @ childrenofthesun.

-----------------------------------

"Ah, Father Crowley, there you are! So, this is where you've been hiding all evening."

 "Hardly a shock to find me out here, is it?" Crowley asked with a grin, squinting up at the cherubic middle-aged man now standing beside him. Like Crowley, he was wearing pants and a short-sleeved button-up with a clerical tab, in deference to the balmy summer weather. Unlike Crowley, he was very clean and neat, and not wearing a dirt-streaked garden apron. "I've been spending all of my free time this week working on the gardens, now that Shadwell's retired and can't go berating me for trying to do the job he wasn't even doing himself. Beyond me how he even got the job in the first place."

 The other man looked around fretfully, as if expecting the former groundskeeper to leap out from behind a poorly maintained bush and start yelling at him. "Oh, I know, but you mustn't be too hard on the poor fellow. The job was more to make him feel useful than anything. But Gabriel said we couldn't justify the expense anymore."

 "You were too soft on him, anyway, Aziraphale," Crowley admonished, smirking at the little huff Aziraphale let out when Crowley didn't address him by his title, as he was supposed to. "Letting him set up all that nonsense meant to ward off witches. It’s certainly never stopped Anathema from coming here to borrow one of your books."

 "At least it kept him busy," Aziraphale replied, sounding slightly aggrieved. His hands fluttered briefly by his wrists, as if he wanted to fiddle with the sleeves of the cassock that was his preferred style of dress. "Although it would have been nice if he had directed some of that energy towards the upkeep of the gardens. I did try to explain to him that the grounds are consecrated, and that surely would ward off evil, but in his eyes that wasn't sufficient protection."

 "I know, I tried to explain it that way, too," Crowley told him cheerfully. "Apparently, the fact that I wear sunglasses all the time means I must be in league with the Devil, so he didn't think my input was particularly useful."

"Is he not aware of your eye condition?"

 "I tried to tell him what photosensitivity is, but seems he's of the school of thought that science and witchcraft are basically the same thing. The tattoos probably didn't help me make my case either."

 Aziraphale made a face. "Ah."

 "Yup," Crowley confirmed, and Aziraphale shook himself suddenly.

 "You've distracted me, you wily old thing!" he chided.

 "Younger than you," Crowley pointed out, grinning impishly and making Aziraphale glower at him with impatience.

 "I was about to get cross with you," Aziraphale insisted. Crowley arched an eyebrow at him.

 "Oh? Whatever for?"  

Aziraphale gestured at the gardening tools in Crowley's hands. "That! It's far too late for you to be working out here, still."

 "Still light out," Crowley muttered, poking rebelliously at the soil with his trowel.

 Aziraphale rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in exasperation. "It's summer, of course it's still light out! That doesn't change the fact that it's almost nine thirty." He shifted his weight, arms now folded. The slowly dwindling rays of sunset caught in the white-gold curls crowning Aziraphale's head, making them glow as if from within.

 Lord, but did he look like an angel.

 Crowley hissed in displeasure as he begrudgingly got to his feet, the taut muscles of his back creaking in protest. Aziraphale gave him a reproving look.

 "'S not like it's going to weed itself," Crowley grumbled in a half-hearted final objection, wincing again. Now that he was standing, the ache in his back was really starting to settle in. He tried to straighten to his full height, which would give him a few inches over Aziraphale, but found that his spine would only comfortably let him stand with their eyes level.

 All right, maybe he had been overdoing it a bit over the past few days.

 Aziraphale pursed his lips. "Be that as it may, you mustn't work like this to the detriment of your own wellbeing. It will still be here in the morning. This is your home, Crowley, it isn't as if you'll be forced to leave if you don't turn the church grounds into Kew Gardens overnight."

 "S'pose I would've been kicked out ages ago, if that were the case," Crowley acquiesced, rubbing some of the dirt on his hands onto his gardening apron. "Y'know, when I first came here, I was really excited to see the gardens," he admitted. "I'd heard how lovely they were, especially for such a small church. Was a bit of shock when I saw the state they were in."

 What he didn't add was that, given Shadwell's constant undermining of any covert attempt he made to coax the gardens back to life, Crowley would have long ago gone and grovelled to the diocese to grant him a new assignment elsewhere. That is, had he not had a compelling reason to want to stay in Tadfield.

 A middle-aged, cherubic man-shaped reason, to be specific.

 "Well, you'll have plenty of time to restore them to their former glory, now," Aziraphale said kindly. "There's no need for you to rush anything."

 Crowley hummed in agreement, and went to bend down to pick up his tools, unable to stifle a groan as he did so. Aziraphale was quick to forestall the movement with a hand to Crowley's chest, his usual hesitance to so much as brush shoulders with Crowley vanishing under his concern. Allow me, he probably said, but Crowley couldn't hear him over the sudden rush of blood to his ears, pounding through his rapidly beating heart in a way that Aziraphale would surely be able to feel beneath his fingers.

 Aziraphale said something else that Crowley's brain refused to parse, too focused on trying to keep the other priest from realising the effect the simple touch was having on him. He managed to nod, not sure what he was agreeing to, but was rather proud of himself for managing not to whimper when Aziraphale's hand pulled away.

 "We'll just put these away first," Aziraphale told him, Crowley's brain function apparently restored now that they were no longer touching. Crowley dutifully trailed after him to the shed, putting his tools back in their rightful place. He grunted slightly when he reached to the small of his back to undo the ties of his garden apron, the motion tugging at the aching muscles of his shoulders. The sound alerted Aziraphale, who immediately fussed over him again, lifting the strap holding the apron around his neck for Crowley despite his protests. Crowley scowled as Aziraphale smiled serenely at him and hung the apron on its hook by the door. Secretly, however, he was glad that the dim, fading light meant that Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see that the tips of Crowley's ears had gone a hot, flaming red.

 Aziraphale took the lead again as they both headed for the rectory they shared, both toeing off their shoes and leaving them in the rack by the door once they'd crossed the threshold.

 "I imagine you'd want to shower before we begin," Aziraphale said as they headed into the living room. He picked up a book he'd left beside the sofa and took a seat, already thumbing it open. "Take your time, I'll be waiting here for you when you're done."

 Crowley glanced down at the dirt packed under his nails, felt the sweaty stick of his shirt against his back, and couldn't help but agree. Whatever Aziraphale had had him agree to, it probably would be best if he cleaned himself up first. Not to mention it would give him a little bit of time to collect his thoughts, to slow the still traitorously fast gallop of his heart.

 He headed upstairs, grabbed a change of clothes from his room, and did his best not to run to the bathroom, knowing Aziraphale would be able to hear the creak of the floorboards overhead if he did.

 Once enshrined in the privacy of the bathroom, shower turned on and old pipes groaning laboriously as they slowly heated, Crowley sagged against the door and let out a long, shaky breath.

 "Get a grip," he muttered to himself, flicking on the ancient exhaust fan. It rattled slowly to life, letting out the occasional whining protest, as the unbalanced blades scraped against the inside of the casing. "You're acting like… like he's about to lay down rose petals for you and take you to bed, when you know he couldn't find his way out of the closet if you gave him a torch and a map. And even if he could… he wouldn't do anything about it. You've both got your vows." He tore off his clothes and left them in a sullen pile on the floor, opening the shower door. Steam billowed out and he stepped inside quickly before too much could escape. He stood directly under the scalding spray, heedless of how his pale skin went instantly pink. His face was likely beyond sun-kissed, too, given the time he'd spent in the garden.

 There wasn't much he could do about that, but at the very least he could wash the sweat from his skin, furiously scrub the dirt out from under his nails. Whatever the evening had in store for him, at least he'd be clean.

 He fruitlessly tried again to piece together what Aziraphale had asked him, out in the garden. Now, though, naked and surrounded on all sides by steam, his mind only seemed to want to offer him lewd suggestions, each one more highly improbable than the last. Unbidden, he imagined Aziraphale walking into the bathroom to find out what was taking Crowley so long, then disrobing and entering the shower with Crowley, hot water cascading over them both as Aziraphale pressed him up against the tiles–

 With a burst of self-disgust, Crowley realised that certain areas of his body were getting very excited indeed by such thoughts, and were responding in a way that was meant to encourage him to keep thinking those exact thoughts as he took himself in hand. He'd done it a few times in the past, now, even though it invariably left him riddled with guilt and shame. Somehow, it seemed even more egregious than usual to have a self-loathing-fuelled wank over the man he worked with, when said man was patiently awaiting his return downstairs, none the wiser.

 With a sigh, he turned off the heat, standing under the cold spray for several seconds to try and keep his body from getting any funny ideas, before cutting off the water completely. Skin still pink in places, but at the very least clean, he towelled himself off, squeezing as much water out of his hair as he could. A glance in the mirror told him that he'd definitely been out in the sun too long. If he was very lucky, the skin wouldn't start peeling off over the next few days, but, given how his pale skin had historically reacted to overexposure to the sun, he wasn't exactly holding out hope. He applied some moisturiser to his face to at least draw out some of the heat, and resolved to stop being so forgetful about putting on sunscreen when he needed to.

 He put on his clothes quickly, only realising once he was done that he'd gone on complete autopilot, and dressed himself as if preparing for his clerical duties, collar and all. He felt a little stupid, but knew he'd feel even stupider if he went and changed again, so he decided to leave everything as it was, and headed back downstairs. Hopefully, wearing something symbolic of the Church would help remind his unruly body, mind, and heart how they were all supposed to be behaving.

 "Ready, then?" Aziraphale asked when he came back into the living room, glancing quickly at the page number before closing the book and setting it aside.

 "Yep," Crowley answered, still having no idea what he'd agreed to.

 "We can use my bed," Aziraphale decided. "Now that I've had a moment to think about it, the couch really is far too narrow to give us enough space to work with comfortably."

 "What?" Crowley squeaked.

 Aziraphale gave him an odd look. "I suppose we could do this here, with you laid out on the floor, if you'd prefer. I know that some people like a more solid surface beneath them for this sort of thing," he said, apparently unaware that he was giving Crowley a heart attack.

 "You… you want me on the floor?" he managed.

 Aziraphale shrugged. "Personally, I would have thought the bed would be more comfortable, but the choice is yours. This is to your benefit, after all."

 "…My benefit?" Crowley asked faintly, apparently unable to do much more than echo Aziraphale's words back at him.

 "Honestly, Crowley," Aziraphale replied huffily. Crowley managed to find space amidst his confusion to feel the little thrill he always did whenever Aziraphale dropped the honorific when referring to him by name. "The massage? That we discussed not twenty minutes ago, were you even listening?"

 "Massage?" Crowley couldn't help but parrot. Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose.

 "Yes. Massage. For your back. That I offered to you. Because you've been overworking yourself in the garden all week and can barely stand upright."

 "Oh. Right," Crowley managed, nodding like a dashboard bobblehead on an unpaved country road. "That massage. 'Course."

 "Honestly," Aziraphale huffed again, but far fonder in tone this time. "So. Out here, or on the bed?" "Bed," Crowley said before he could stop himself.

 Aziraphale nodded, standing. "Shall we, then?"

 Crowley nodded mutely, and when Aziraphale began to lead them both upstairs, he followed.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Take My Hand ~ Lucifer x Reader

For so many, even those who know him, Lucifer is an enigmatic riddle that will never be solved. A question with no answer. A blank, white puzzle.  He keeps his stoic facade at all times, overworks himself on anything Diavolo gives him, and if he runs out of work, he finds more, from somewhere that nobody, even the young Prince, has no idea.

He’s always so strict and proper, dresses royal and there is seemingly no imperfection to him. Hell, even Asmo, the most narcissistic brother, is not-so-secretly jealous of his beauty and dominant and mysterious aura that engulfs him, that makes him even more enticing than one could think.

So what is the mysterious of this overly strict Fallen, the one that God loved the most, the one that led the Rebellion of the Celestial War aeons ago, actually hiding? What emotions is he so desperately trying to hide behind those sharp, ruby eyes of him that read into you like infrared?

What kind of fragility is trying to hide being that frozen block that became his heart that aches and burns harder than the Sun itself?

Perhaps that is something that only someone with a fresh perspective shall witness, someone who walks around like a ghost, unnoticeable, yet her eyes are wide and attentive, that can peer right into the depths of anyone’s soul.

They are complete opposites, and yet, they are more alike than anyone could even begin to realise - That is, if they are so adamant to be ignorant, as they’ve always been.

Apart from Solomon, not one, but two other humans were brought into Devildom, and that is because fate made it so that Lucifer chose a girl that had a sister.

A twin sister.

So of course, you cannot separate twins, so Diavolo was okay with bringing both of them, thinking it would be reminiscent of the 6th and 7th brothers, especially for their personalities are like light and day, like the Sun and the Moon, both of them beautiful, yet completely different.

And that was quickly made obvious once they arrived, for the brothers quickly swamped all over the younger sister, since she was a lovable, social butterfly, an extroverted free soul who loves to fool around and bend the rules to breaking point.

The older sister, however, was an introvert of few words, yet all of them were meaningful. She was incredibly diligent and hard-working, studying since the first day in RAD, she was much too busy to even bother going out of her way to break the rules, and had to do everything in her power to get her sister out of trouble, including doing her homework, to avoid detention.

The eldest brother, the most attentive, was quick to realise that all the brothers were attracted to the sunshine like moths to the fire that they didn’t even bother approaching the zircon wrapped in a velvet handkerchief.

He was, however, completely drawn to her...Or maybe it was the mystery surrounding her that he was interested in? He read once, in a human book, that the most intriguing is the journey, not the destination, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was similar to going to one’s soul.

Y/N’s soul was pure, it was bright, it was beautiful and tempting, which went in complete anti-thesis with the facade she pulled for everyone - And just like twins are, like Yin and Yang, she was truly the complete opposite of her bright sister that held a dark soul.

But days began to rapidly pass by, and with each day, countless of problematic events happened, that made Lucifer, and not only him, pissed off beyond belief, at the younger sister, and the older one was forced to bare the consequences and solve the problem..

These continuous occurrences started eroding her soul, bit by bit, darkening it, overshadowing her light, and it was beginning to concern the raven haired man, for, in the end, it was still his job to make sure the humans are okay and comfortable in Diavolo’s Kingdom.

Exams were coming along, and Lucifer could see Y/N was beginning to become much paler and less talkative. He didn’t see her as often outside of the classroom, and even to meals that they would always share together...And he began to worry.

He knows very well that humans are very frail, weak and sensitive creatures, that constantly needed to be taken care of, and he knew very well that she wouldn’t have much until she’d collapse.

“Does anyone have a pen, please? All of mine have been completely used up, and I need to urgently finish an assignment.” 

Speak of the devil, Lucifer thought, as his D.D.D.’s notification sound popped on his study desk, where he, himself, was also working on his own assignments, and he chuckled at the coincidence, and pondered over if he should tease her a bit, to provoke her, or not.

Something that Lucifer always loved was to push someone’s boundaries...Not some pushover like Mammon, clearly, but strong, dominating people, much like Satan, much like himself. He wanted to see how far can he push someone until they get angry, until they lose their composure, until they show their true face, until their facade crumbles, and they are no longer the self they show to everyone.

It’s satisfying seeing others step on their pride...

Since he would never do that, clearly. He isn’t the Avatar of Pride for nothing.

Asmo: Nope! I only have my personalised, engraved pen, and I can’t give it to everyone! Beel: Sorry, I accidentally ate all my pens while trying to write my homework. Belphie is sleeping. Levi: I don’t have pens, I write everything on my laptop. Satan: I always misplace mine. I only have the one I keep in my notebook. Mammon: Lol, you’re doing homework? Hah, what a dork! Sorry, I ain’t using Goldie to buy pens! Why not ask your sister? Anyka: You bought 10 pens barely 2 weeks ago, how the hell did you even finish them? Y/N: I have a lot to do. Do you have any spare pens? Anyka: Lol nope x Ask Lucifer or idk Barbatos??

The opportunity is shining, so...Should he start provoking her? Or would that break her even more? This should certainly be interesting... And if anything happens, he always knows when to put a stop to this charade. “I have a spare fountain pen, if it would do.” he sent her a DM, waiting for an answer. “Perfect. Are you in your study, or your bedroom?” she sent an immediate answer, which made him smirk. “Study. If you beg me nicely, I can also give you the ink for it.” he was playing with fire, and damn, was it exhilarating. “You...Want me to...Beg? For a pen and ink? To do my assignments? I don’t think Diavolo would be pleased to hear that.” she typed after an obvious few moments of hesitation. “Sometimes compromises must be made in order to achieve your goal. You are aware, I am sure, that if you do not finish your homework for tomorrow, you will receive detention.” this was getting very interesting, and he couldn’t wait to see what her next step would be. “Fine. I will ask Barbatos then. Thanks for the offer. Have a pleasant night.” she cut him off with clear acid in her words, which made Lucifer chuckle in satisfaction.

She was though, and entertaining. What an adorable little lamb.

And it was true, she asked Barbatos, who told her that he couldn’t go over to the House of Lamentation, for he has to take care of Diavolo, and he refused to allow her to leave the dorms without someone by her side to make sure no stray demon attacks her.

That was a true bummer.

So...She had to step on her pride to get a stupid pen to finish her assignments.  It wasn’t even homework, but she still had hours of work she had to do. It was barely midnight, she couldn’t even attempt to go sleep now.

Going to sleep means obvious overthinking, which means lack of sleep, so better be productive and work, then destroy yourself more than you already are, doing nothing, while staring and cursing the ceiling.

Y/N sighed, breaking the pen in two out of anger, and wobbly got out of her study chair, making a bee line to Lucifer’s study and knocking on the door, waiting to hear the approval word to enter the room. She barely opened the door, walking in front of the seated form of Lucifer, who held his spare fountain pen almost mockingly in front of her.

He was watching her like a hawk, every movement analysed as if under a microscope, almost as if he was carefully searching for any flaw or mistake she would make. However, he could see she wasn’t well. She was sleep deprived, her complexion was much paler than normal, she had dark bags under her eyes...And her posture was slouched, almost sloppy. Lucifer knew she has always been a diligent person, so the homework couldn’t possibly be long overdue. She would have done it in the day it was given. So...What was the urgency? Could it be that...She was...Just like him?

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to beg for a pen, but, Lucifer, may I please borrow your pen? I promise to return it to you tomorrow, buy a new ink, to your preference, as soon as classes are over and I can go to proper shopping.” her voice was tired, just like her mind and body. She held no emotions in her words. It was almost as if she was intentionally damaging herself to make up for-

Oh.

Perhaps she wasn’t as different from him as he thought she was, and now, at least, he can better understand why she was deteriorating as fast as she was.

“You can keep it, I don’t mind. However, as the head of the student council, and the one who has to overlook this exchange program, I would have to advise you to take better care of yourself and rest, instead of overworking yourself.” Lucifer told her, with a less condescending voice, only to receive a sarcastic scoff, which confused him. “Tell me that when you’re going to follow your own advice.” and she left.

A chuckle escaped his mouth as soon as the door was closed, and for the first time in ages, he actually went to bed early...For his standards. He had to be very attentive of this one, however...She was much more interesting than he believed.

And the first thing he saw in the morning, as he stepped in the classroom, he saw Y/N handing a file to her sister - A file with all the homework for the whole week, that is - And now he could understand why she was overworked. She was going about life in all the wrong ways...Not that he should be one to talk. He knows his own faults, but admitting them to another is a complete different matter.

But things were going to take a horrid turn for the worst, beginning with Diavolo calling everyone for the Student Council meeting, only to announce that the exchange students were going to have a lowered pass/fail line anymore, but will have to work and achieve the demons’ standards and rise to the challenge given.

“If you’re going to control a demon’s powers, you need to have a proper understanding of them and how they should be used.” Diavolo said, which made him realise that the twins, somehow, managed to make pacts with all of the brothers...All of them, sans one. That one being himself, of course. “Hey, whoa, that’s a bit sudden, don’t you think? Exams are just around the corner!” Anyka protested, obviously shocked. “RAD exams are surprisingly tough.” Belphie nodded in agreement. “I’m sure both of you are going to do great, especially if you’ve studied a little bit throughout the semester.” Diavolo smiled, as usual, and the older twin mimicked no emotion on her face. “But...! But I haven’t! I had fun with the brothers all this time...What am I gonna do?! Y/N, say something!” the younger twin shook her sister, waking her up from her trance. “Hmm...? What should I say? He’s right.” she shrugged, not bothering to look at anyone. “I’ve already considered that, and I have a plan. Satan, you are going to be tutoring Y/N and Anyka up until the day of exams.” Lucifer dumped the responsibility on the blond brother, who was barely able to say anything from the shock of being put on the spot. “Oh, that’s perfect! Thank you soooo much, Satan! You’re the best!” Anyka jumped on the 4th born, who chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks, but I can do this by myself. If this was all, then I’m going to see you during the exams. Bye.” she gave a brief peace sign, before leaving to her room, no doubt continuing her studying.

Obviously, Lucifer knew she had it in the bag if she focused. She’s a smart girl, she won’t have any problem...If she stays healthy, that is.  There was something about her that made him want to approach her, to hold her face, to look her in the eyes and tell her to stop doing this to herself. There was something about her innocence and heart that made him want to protect her at all cost, even if that meant protecting her from herself. He pondered offering to tutor her, but what could he even tutor her about, when she clearly knows everything there needs to be learnt about the exams?

He wanted to kiss her hands and reassure her that everything will be okay, and he wanted to hold her tight and help her fall asleep without having running thoughts through her head all the time.

But he can’t do that, can he? If he were to approach her, she’d run away, like a scared little baby fawn trying to find her mama, while being chased off by a hunter. He had to be gentle with her, delicate, to lure her into a sense of security and safety...A warm haven by his side...

But can he really manage to do that, when he’s supposed to be the Big Bad Scary Wolf who punishes everyone and doesn’t allow happiness in the dorms, as per so gracefully described by his lovely brothers?

The first day of the exams came much faster than Y/N realised - She had no idea how time flew by so fast, it felt like she just blinked and bam, exam days - So here she was, drinking her 3rd coffee for the morning while writing her answers for the exam.

Caladrius Blood was the third ingredient for that famous ancient elixir that required Powdered unicorn hood and bittergrass root, for the Magical Potions exam from that morning...

A forest, what covered the surface of Devildom shortly after it came into existence, the answer for the History exam from the afternoon...And a three-legged crow being the relief sculpture at the entrance to the Devildom royal tomb...

Yes, these were all incredibly easy questions, she had no problem, clearly. And that was the same for the 2nd day, with the hexes and curses... And then came the practical exam...Seductive Speechcraft test.

She looked around the classroom with a frown, knowing she had to pair up with someone, but all the brothers were crowding around her sister, and she could only sigh, looking down with her arms crossed, not knowing what to do.

“Would you like to pair up with me, Y/N?” Lucifer’s voice rang soothingly in her ear, making her turn around, her eyebrow raised in confusion. “You...Want to pair up...With me?” she asked in a slow, unsure voice, which made him smile and nod. “Yes, is something wrong with that?” he bent down slightly, getting closer to her face. “No, of course not. I was just...Surprised that anyone wanted to pair up with me. Anyway, we should get started.” she nodded, looking away from him and guiding him to a more secluded part of the classroom. “You have to be the one doing the seducing. I am really curious how you are going to proceed. Could you, perhaps, be...Scared?” with his infamous smirk, he looked smugly at how her otherwise unfaltering facade began to break slightly. “No...It’s just...If I knew I was going to be the one doing the seducing, I would have put on some make up this morning, so I wouldn’t look like I just woke up from death after being buried for 100 years...No, make that 1000 years.” she corrected herself after taking a quick look at her reflection on her D.D.D. “I can assure you, your appearance, for us, demons, won’t change a thing. It’s the words and gestures that matter.” he let out a soft chuckle, watching her nod in acknowledgement. “Okay, if you say so, then I will have to believe you. Can you promise me that you won’t attempt to kill me...Again...No matter what I say or do? Trust me, I want top grades, and I’m going to do anything in my power to snatch them.” her voice now was much firmer, and it sounded clearer, more confident. It was clear that her pride and ambition were on the line, and he wanted to see how she was going to seduce him. He could feel electricity running through his veins from the excitement. “Yes, of course. I won’t do anything to you. In fact, I will be the human, and you will be the demon. You have all the power now. Amaze me, Y/N.” he watched her turn to the side slightly, as if preparing her A-Game face - He was expecting her to try out an impersonation of a succubus, since they were plenty in Devildom, but what she did...Was beyond Lucifer’s power of comprehension.

Her eyes held a glimmer of innocence and pity, her soul somehow seemed to glow with purity and light, just like it was when she first arrived. Her demeanour wasn’t assertive, confident and mysterious, but held a tint of submissiveness and glowing affection, as if she wanted to touch him, but she was too afraid to approach a deity.

He thought that, as he gazed with interest at the girl in front of him, only to be shocked completely by how sweetly alluring her voice could sound, and he almost felt the need to have her cup his face so he could melt into her warm, soothing caress.

“Lucifer...Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Have you noticed how your health is starting to decline? I know you are a demon, and a few hours cut off your usual sleeping schedule won’t mean much for you, but you are exhausted, Lucifer. I hate seeing you like that...Overworking yourself...Finding more work to get piled under, even if you’ve already finished your assignments. I worry about you, and your health...But more...I worry about the reasons for your overworking. I know you’re trying so hard to keep away all the intrusive thoughts that keep plaguing your mind...You think that working to exhaustion is going to keep your mind busy, so you’ll sleep without having to overthink.” hearing those words, Lucifer truly wondered if she had veela or succubus genes in her family, or if her tongue was laced with the sweetest poison there is. She slowly approach him, gingerly holding both of his hands, looking down, imitating a timid kitten, and guiding him to the nearest chair behind him, so she could be at his height...Just a little above, creating the perfect angle to change from a submissive expression, to a more dominating, seductive gaze.

“You’re always so concerned about your brothers, wanting to make sure everything goes perfectly, to the plans that you create, because if things go out of control, you are afraid they will have to suffer...Just like it happened when you led the Rebellion. You still feel guilty for what happened. You are afraid that they regret following you...And so, you are purposely hurting yourself...And this self-inflicted pain became your own sense of comfort and defense. You are afraid that, if somehow, you indulge in your pleasure and the pain disappears, things are going to go out of control completely. You are afraid of the unknown and what it could bring...But trust me, Lucifer...I promise you...They love you. They love you, just as much as you love them. They don’t regret following you. You are a family, and they are happy and content staying together, all 7 of you, together. You deserve to be happy too, Lucifer. You deserve to allow yourself a day off from all this mess, and indulge in your pleasures.” she was so close to him, whispering in his ear, then crouching down, holding his hands, keeping them together and kissing them softly, sending shivers down his spine...But more, he froze completely on the spot. He was shocked...His mind was almost completely blank...Because...How could she possibly know all of this? How can she speak like that? She’s just a human...So...How...? Surely, his brothers had no idea, so how could she, a mere human who came by less than an year ago, understand and know him so well? His heart was beating fast, and it was in pain. It was expecting...It was conflicting everything he ever stood for. A day off? A day for himself? A day of self-care? A day...With her...?

“Won’t you allow me to take away the pain, just for the night? Allow yourself to feel something else other than pain and misery. Allow yourself to be happy. To feel emotional pleasure. Allow yourself to be yourself again, only for a night, because Lucifer, you are not a robot, or a machine, you are not programmed, wired, or running or petrol or gasoline. You have a beautiful heart that feels so much, but you are afraid of the myriad of unknown emotions that are desperately trying to burst out and scream at you to let loose...Because you can. You showed me that you are capable of letting loose, when we were stuck in Levi’s game. Do you remember, Lucifer? We were up on the roof, you had your hair in my lap, and I stroked it gently...You were smiling so beautifully...So carefree...Because you had no worries on your mind or heart. You were yourself. And you were happy.” she put her forehead to his, speaking softly, barely above a whisper, but despite her tone, her words spoke loudly, strongly, into his heart, making it pump faster and faster, energy shooting through his every nerve, vein, artery and capillary...His mind was completely captivated, and his heart was captured. Without even realising, his lips were parted and his eyes were wide from the shock, imagining himself in this utopic paradise that she created merely with her words.

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Lucifer. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” she was perfect. She didn’t break her act for not even a split second. The sparkle in her eyes was there from the beginning to the end, and he could feel her fast-beating heart - It was regular for her, as she had the heart rate of a rabbit - It almost seemed natural for her to persuade and sweet-talk anyone like that. Without even realising it himself, he took her hand, looking at her eyes with an expression of wonder, awe and complete fascination...Until she gave him a devilish smirk, and her eyes started glinting with mischief, which made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I won.” was the last thing she said to him before pulling away from him completely, retorting to her bland and pained, exhausted demeanour. “If I made even Lucifer look at me with glazed eyes and made him take my hand, to take him to some dreamland oasis, then I’m sure I deserve the highest mark in the class.” she chuckled with a deadpan expression on her face, not looking at him. “How...Did you do that?” he asked in a low voice, almost not believing what just happend. “Oh, that was possibly the easiest thing I’ve ever done in a long while. You see...I hold great pride in being incredibly intuitive, perceptive, detail-oriented and being able to properly read people...And their hearts. If I had Asmo, I would have told him that he has an amazing personality, and he’s not just all-looks. If it was Mammon, I’d have showered him with praises. If it was Beel, I would have played the family, Lilith and guilt card...And the list goes on. If you, however, are asking how I managed to say all the right words to you...Well...It’s a bit different...And personal.” she spoke, looking at the teacher with a half-smirk as she was given the highest mark, and rightfully so. “What could be so personal that you managed to speak to me as if you are some ancient demon who has been luring people for aeons with her sweet words laced with acid?” he stood up, looking down at her with a stern expression, yet his mind and heart were fighting a war of conflict. “...I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.” the raven haired man could see sadness clouding her face, before leaving to her room.

That was a true experience for Lucifer, he couldn’t deny that to himself, and more, for the whole day, no matter how much he tried to work - Her words kept haunting him, and as soon as he picked up the pen, he immediately thought back at the exam and threw it back on the desk.

He tried taking a hot bath, tried listening to that TSL soundtrack, but she was the one to give it to her, after she spent a fortune on Akuzon for his birthday present, but of course, he thought back at her, and he had to stop the music altogether.

Everything he did, he was reminded of those words that held the flavour of the Poison Apples he eats so often, and it was driving him insane. He could feel his brain overheating, and the pressure on his chest was so great that he wanted to dig his nails into his chest and rip apart the flesh, take out the heart and stomp on his heart, because he couldn’t take it anymore.  He was a demon, and he was a heavy sinner - He NEEDED to grab her hand and escape the horror of reality. He needed to feel that he wasn’t bound by space, nor time, a body or a brain - He needed to be just one soul, bound to another, to feel no more pain, no more reality - Only euphoria, content, happiness, pleasure.

He couldn’t believe he was so willing to give in to his desires, and it was only because of her. It was HER fault. And yet, her last words before her departure from the classroom kept echoing constantly - 

“I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.”

He was right all along.

She truly was like him. She was the only one who could properly understand him, and likewise, he was the only one who could take her pain away.  Maybe it was his guardian-complex, having to constantly look after someone, needing to be useful to someone... He needed her, as much as she needed him... Because, unlike him, she could easily waste away, as she is nothing more than a human resembling the first Snowdrop in Spring. He could resist until the end of this world, just as he has done until now, but she couldn’t.

The endless train of thoughts was interrupted by yet another knock on his door, that proved to be the same person that plagued his mind - The little lamb walked into the wolf’s den, almost as if summoned, out of her own accord.

To bring him back his fountain pen, along with the promised high-quality ink...It made him chuckle at how adorable and thoughtful she was being, without realising.

“...You are troubled by something. Do you...Want to talk about it...Or should I leave you alone? I did say some pretty heavy words today, I understand if you wouldn’t want to stay in the same room as me for a while.” she gingerly put the items on his study, not looking up at him. “How come you never looked me in the eyes until then?” he asked, looking at her from the office chair. “I...Was never able to look anyone in the eyes, in my life. Now even my sister or my mother. It makes me start panicking...I get intimidated and scared...So I look away. I forced myself to behave the way I was supposed to, but it was the last thing from comfortable. Don’t take it personal.” she chuckled awkwardly, stepping back. “I was surprised that your words had such an impact that I was ready to follow you...But would you follow me? Would you be able to do the very thing that you told me just today? Would you be willing to strip away that facade of yours, take care of yourself, and allow your heart to feel again?” he asked, stepping slowly in front of her, almost resembling a predator prowling to its prey. “...I don’t want to break down and cry, because if I do...Things will only go downhill, very fast and very hard. I’m...Usually on a downward spiral, but when the wave hits...It takes a long time to swim back to the surface...And I’m sure for how many more times will I have the strength to move and breathe.” she muttered, shuffling on her feet, and Lucifer could understand very well. He could see how frail she has become, and it was all because her brain was working against her so heavily, for whatever reason that was eroding her so badly. “If you promise to stay by my side, I will be here to hold your hand and pull you out of the stormy tides. I will walk next to you for your whole journey, until you get tired of me. You just have to take my hand and let yourself be...Let yourself feel. Let out all the pent up emotions, then smile at me, because you have a beautiful smile, and I haven’t seen it in ages. I know you are afraid...It is frightening walking alone, in the dark, with so many monsters around you, ready to gnaw and maul at you...By I will be there, waiting for you, guiding you with a flashlight, ready to hold and protect you...So...What will you do, Y/N? Do you seek salvation and happiness, or are you ready to give up on yourself and want to succumb to the bottomless pit of the abyssal ocean you were thrown into.” he mimicked the way she talked, the way she moved, the way she articulated her words, as he took his gloves off, touching her face and softly caressing it, bending slightly to peer into her eyes.

He could see that she was afraid - She was beginning to tremble, her eyes were glossy, brimming with tears, her bottom lip was quivering and the conflict of good and evil was obvious inside of her - Her hands were in the air, ready, but not entirely, to grab his hands...

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Y/N. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” he mimicked her own words, wanting to see if it would be enough of a push for her 

Choosing was truly a mortifying experience, but she was strong, he knew that - And that was made obvious when her shoulders finally started shaking, her breath becoming ragged....

And she threw her arms around his torso, letting rivers and rivers of tears fall down her already exhausted face. Her body was so small compared to his, so small...And so cold, in his warm arms...He couldn’t help but hold her tighter, stroking her hair soothingly, putting a kiss on the top of her head.

“Please take care of me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I-I don’t want to leech off of you...I’ve always been everyone’s therapist...And I know how much it sucks...B-But you’re the only one who ever bothered to show me any kindness and understanding. Please, Lucifer, don’t let me drown...I’m so tired of swimming...I can’t go on.” her sobs were so pitiful and broken that it shattered his heart and resolve, and all he could do was guide her to the bed, knowing she was too weak to sit up for too long, and started rocking her gently, as he would do with his brothers long ago, in the Celestial Realm, whenever they were upset or had a nightmare.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m here, and I’m not going away until you tell me to. You won’t drown...You grabbed the lifeline the second you took my hand, and I’m going to make sure you keep floating above the sheen of the water and have no problem breathing.” he reassured her, knowing very well how hopeless it feels being in that situation...But now they could at least cling onto each other for help, support, love brightness.

“How...? How did you know everything...?” she asked, clutching on his shirt, almost as if the harder she pulled, the better the chances of survival. “Because the very words you told me are what you needed to hear the most.”

[wonderlustlucas]

jack pot ; part 3 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 6.4k ⇢ genre fluff & angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way) ⇢ warnings (18+) drug use, a suggestive make out & the mention of a boner twice maybe ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n AAAAAAAA omg im so excited to post this, this by far is my fav part of jack pot & i cant wait to hear what u all think!!! sorry its a bit shorter than the other parts, & technically this is the *last* part, but there will be an epilogue where you will see how everything comes to be!!!! have fun reading!!! <3

⇠ part 2

five.

“Oh, fuck, he’s good,” Yeji gasps, shoving her phone into Maddie’s hands before faceplanting into the table.

“Are you H-T-T-P because I’m colon-slash-slash without you,” Maddie reads with a chuckle, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard. “Quick, YN, look up some pick-up lines.”

Closing the tab on the article you should be reading but has been long forgotten, you promptly do as you are told and open the first link from your search, Minho and Jisung leaning in to help. “There,” Jisung stops you, pointing to one, “’Are you a parking ticket? Because you have fine written all over you.’”

The table can’t help but burst into laughter at such a sentence. It’s stupid, but ever since Yeji and Kim Sunwoo began texting, their conversations have been full of tacky puns and emoji-filled compliments.

“Damn,” Maddie whistles, setting the phone back into Yeji’s limp hand, “he’s already typing back.”

“Gross,” Ryujin teases, busy typing away on her laptop. How she manages to multitask so well is a skill you certainly lack. “Why don’t you just like, I don’t know, ask him out?” Jisung asks and when you glance up, he’s looking at you. “Because that’s the guy’s job,” Maddie quickly saves the day, winking to you when you send her a grateful smile.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin scoffs. Everyone, even Ryujin, stops to look at him.

Did he just curse?

“I mean, like,” he stammers, cheeks turning rosy at all the attention, “it’s 2020. Guys have insecurities, too.”

“I agree,” Minho hums, looking to Maddie with hearts in his eyes, “that kind of confidence is enough to make any boy fall in love.”

“Yeah, but—”

Lia rebuts, but your attention quickly falls elsewhere when a text message first appears on your laptop, then your phone.

hwang hyunjin🦔🕺🏻💞🧻 [now] Where r u rn?

Unable to fight your smile, you quickly type back.

[3:39 PM] YN: outside hollin st café [3:39 PM] YN: why? :)

“Have you seen their new house, YN?” Minho asks, prompting you to click your phone off and set it back on the table. “Whose house?”

“Changbin’s parents.”

“Oh,” shaking your head, you distantly curse Chan for keeping your friend busy today. Unlike Jisung, Changbin likes to write lyrics and do whatever other music stuff during the day at a normal time instead of the middle of the fucking night while stoned and trying to finish his computer science assignments at the same time. “No, he forgot to send me pictures.”

“Dude,” Jisung sighs dreamily, “it’s huge. So nice. I think the front door alone could cover tuition.”

“Is it really that nice?” Maddie asks in awe.

“He started to show me pics the other day but couldn’t finish but the kitchen… unnecessary,” Ryujin quips, pausing her work to check her phone. “Yeah, it’s insane. The whole place is unnecessary but the kitchen is like, a house in itself,” Jeongin hums, head shaking in disbelief.

“Damn, now I really want to see it,” you sigh, making a mental note to hunt Changbin down so he can show you. “It’s like Hyunjin and his rings,” Minho snickers, “he has so many. Whenever we’re out, if he sees a ring, boom. It’s his.”

Well, he’s not wrong but… You bite your tongue no matter how badly you wish to defend Hyunjin and his affinity for rings and jewelry in general. The boy has taste, what can you say? You certainly are not complaining about Hyunjin’s long fingers and the way he chooses to decorate them.

“I never thought I’d hear Changbin’s parent’s kitchen be analogous to Hyunjin’s jewelry collection, yet here we are,” Maddie chuckles, leaning over Yeji to peek at her conversation with Sunwoo.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” Jisung pipes up of course as soon as you have reopened the tab to your assignment. Changbin or Hyunjin, you don’t know, head whipping up to find out and a peculiar mix of relief and panic settling over you once you spot the latter. “Uh oh, YN’s gonna go into cardiac arrest.”

As subtly as you can, you elbow Jisung in the stomach and smile at Hyunjin as he nears. “Hey,” keeping his eyes on you, Hyunjin approaches your table and stops behind Maddie opposite from you, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were busy.” His cheeks, already flushed, burn pinker once he looks away to smile weakly at everyone else.

“I’m not busy!” You squeak, scrambling to close your laptop and shove it in your bag. “Are you sure? I can come back later?” He offers, tilting his head and this is when you realize he is holding a bubble tea in each hand. And from the looks of it, one seems to be your usual order. “No, she’s not,” Jeongin answers for you, recognizing your stupefied expression.

“I was just – yeah. No,” rushing to stand and swing your legs out around the bench, you nearly fall flat on your face, “I wasn’t doing anything, actually.” Steadying yourself with a hand on Minho’s shoulder, you heave a labored breath before carefully walking to meet Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he beams, either oblivious to how flustered you are or simply choosing to ignore it. Turning to wave to your friends, he hands you one of the cups and you realize it is, in fact, your favorite boba. Oh boy. “See ya later,” you wave to them as well, nose wrinkling when both Jisung and Maddie wink in return.

Following after Hyunjin, you finally allow yourself to take notice of his attire and can’t help but feel confused. He looks good. And not in the good attractive way—he always looks good. But good as in formal. It’s four o’clock on a Tuesday in October and he’s out here looking as if he just got out of a business meeting. White button-down tucked into fitted black slacks, dress shoes, black tie, and he even has a black suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair is styled, too; ever since he dyed it back to black, he’s been growing it out long enough for his bangs to cover his eyes. Now, however, it’s parted down the middle and seems as if he’s ever so slightly curled it away from his face.

Suddenly, you feel ridiculous walking beside him in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt from high school.

“Thanks for the boba,” you mumble around your straw, brain still preoccupied trying to get over how utterly handsome he is. “Why do you look so fancy?”

The side of his mouth twitches up at your words, but his eyes stay glued to the sidewalk as you continue to your unknown destination. “I had an audition,” Hyunjin admits, voice devoid of emotion as if it’s not important at all. “An audition?” You echo. “Why do you sound so not super mega excited? How did it go? What was it for?”

“Well—”

“Wait!” You interrupt, stopping your walk once you realize he had an audition and you didn’t know. “You had an audition? What – why didn’t you tell me?”

Hyunjin frowns, avoiding your gaze and dragging his bottom teeth over his top lip. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he finally says before reaching for your hand and tugging you away from the walkway and into your campus’ main courtyard. “Why? Is it some sort of secret or something, Hyunjin?” You scoff, sounding way more annoyed than you intended. But you are annoyed; why didn’t he want to tell anyone?

“No,” he sighs, finding an empty area in the grass and lowering himself to sit, “I just… didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, visibly softening for him and settling down next to him, crisscrossing your legs, “it is a big deal. I don’t know what it’s for, but if it’s important enough for you to audition, then it’s important to us, too. You don’t need to be humble twenty-four-seven, you know. I’m sure you could have used our support.”

“I didn’t get it, though,” Hyunjin whispers, “they just – I didn’t get in. I wasn’t good enough.” Sensing the sadness in his voice, you find a lump forming in your throat when you notice the way his bottom lip trembles. “Hey,” panicking, you set your boba down and sit up on your knees to wrap your arms around him, cradling his head into your chest once tears start falling, “no. Don’t ever say you’re not good enough, Hyunjin.”

“But if I did better, practiced more, than I would—"

“Stop,” you hush, combing your fingers through his hair and brushing strands away from his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who works as hard as you do. You can’t beat yourself up over this. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t know what could have happened if you got in. You could have hurt yourself eventually, or maybe met someone who’s a real asshole.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, quiet and muffled when he turns to press his forehead into your sternum, body still trembling as he lets out all his tears. You stay like that for a while, holding him against you and soothing a hand up and down his back until his sniffling falls quiet. “Listen,” you finally sigh, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back. Your heart sinks once you take in the wet trails down his cheeks and the puffiness of his eyes. “Forget about it. Was it something for dance?”

When he nods subtly, you cup his face in your hands and swipe his cheeks with your thumbs. “You are an amazing dancer, Hyunjin. You can’t let this get to your head. And I don’t want you working your ass off more than you do already. Practice makes perfect, sure, but you need to rest. What about the idea Changbin came up with?”

“The YouTube thing?”

“Yes! Filming dance tutorials or just posting your routines is a really good idea,” you remind him, wiping your hands on your jeans once he falls back onto the grass with a gentle thud, hair flaying around him like a halo. Your limbs twitch with the urge to lie beside him, maybe throw an arm around him and rest your cheek on his chest, fingers tracing the soft features of his face, stroking through his hair and reminding him just how innately perfect he is, inside and out. You, of course, resist such a temptation, flopping down beside him and staring up at the clouds with a heavy heart.

“I could do that. Maybe,” Hyunjin huffs. Tilting your head to look at him, you find yourself knee-deep in that familiar longing feeling, pausing simply to appreciate how pretty he is in the evening sun, cheeks rosy from crying and hair begging to be touched. Shaking your head to rid such daydreams, you remind yourself how fragile his emotions are right now. Now is no time to get caught up on a fantasy. Reaching for your tea, you lean up on an elbow and redirect your gaze to the trees, the promise of winter having turned what was green burnt sienna and butterscotch, leaving trees barren and branches swaying gently in the crisp breeze that leaves you curling into yourself. “You should,” you hum, distant, mind clawing to come up with the words you want to say.

“Come here,” Hyunjin says now, voice stronger than before and when his hand wraps gently around your wrist, you can’t find it in yourself to resist. Allowing him to pull you back down beside him, you curl into his side, resting your head a safe distance away from his own and onto the curve of his arm. “Thank you for being so good to me,” he expresses. You squeeze your eyes shut when the arm you lie on wraps around your shoulders and pulls you substantially closer. “I need to tell you something.”

A long stretch of silence falls upon you and for a moment, you are unsure the words even left your mouth. What are you thinking?

“Wait! I have something first,” Hyunjin sighs, missing the way your breath hitches. “Okay,” you whisper, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt and focusing all your attention there.

“I just – I think… I owe you an apology,” he finally says, “I need to apologize for something that I did a while ago that I know probably hurt.” Your chest tightens. There’s a lot that has hurt you when it comes to Hyunjin, but none that he’s done purposely. None that are his fault. None that he should be apologizing for.

“I feel like we came to some mutual understanding to not mention what happened when we were freshmen, but it kills me to know that – that something happened, and we never talked about it,” Hyunjin starts, grip tightening on your shoulder and suddenly, you think you are dreaming. This cannot possibly be real. “I know it was awkward but, I also know me and Yiren dating was… ah. I don’t know.”

When he falls silent, you are unsure of what to say or do. You have no idea what the end goal of this conversation is. Hardly a minute ago, your heart and your brain decided it was time to tell him. Now, you’re not so sure you can do that until he finishes, and you are not about to give him your two cents if his reasoning for bringing it up is not the same as yours.

“I just want to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to you about it. I know I was confused, but I’m sure it was worse for you when they told you about her,” Hyunjin continues, sensing your rendered silence, “and it’s been so long since that happened, and now, you’re one of my closest friends.” Ouch.

“But I’ve been thinking,” when he picks up again, your eyes fly open in a panic. He’s been thinking. Hyunjinhas been thinking. You think you are going to pass out. “And I just feel like we… me and you, I mean—"

The standard iPhone alarm blares from beside you, promptly cutting him off and you think it is the biggest cockblock known to man. “Shit,” he hisses, leaning up to tug his phone from his pocket and in the process nudging you from your comfortable position. Sitting back up, nerves aflame and heart racing, your brows shoot up in confusion when all he does is stare at the number calling him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the studio I was just at,” he scoffs in disbelief, barely glancing at you before looking back to his phone. You have never wanted to shrivel up and die as much as you want to right now. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”

Hyunjin makes a noise of acknowledgement before tapping the green icon and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Sitting quietly beside him, you watch with a forced smile as his hummed responses and subtle nods morph into enthusiastic laughs and wide, beaming smiles. Hyunjin notices your confusion when you tilt your head, mouthing a ‘What?’ to him.

“They made a mistake,” he whispers, covering the speaker of his phone, “read off the wrong Hwang. I’m in.” When he grins excitedly at you, your response isn’t as cheerful as it could be. As it should be. “Yay!” You whisper, clapping gently but quickly turning to your boba when the other line begins speaking again. Looking away, you take a hefty sip, nearly choke on a tapioca ball, and build the walls around your heart up all over again in a matter of seconds.

“I’ve gotta go,” whispering, you manage one more pained smile before getting to your feet and wiping your butt of any possible grass stains, “good luck!” When he shines you one more breathtaking smile and waves excitedly, you hastily head in the other direction, wrapping your arms around yourself and swallowing past the lump that threatens to form the farther you walk.

It must be nice, you think, frantically wiping at your waterline. Must be nice to put yourself out there and have things work out the way you want them to. Must be nice being told you’re ‘in,’ you’re wanted, you’re desired.

It must be nice.

six.

Pick up food, you said. Ask Jisung, you said.

Your conscience is a big fat oompa loompa ass bitch. You would have never called Jisung to ask him if he wanted anything from Taco Bell if you knew he was with Changbin. And not just Changbin, you realized four minutes into your call; Seungmin and Hyunjin, too. Apparently he went over their place to record, or something, and didn’t care to let you know. Not that you’re his mom and he has too—but it would have been nice, and would have saved you from spending almost fifty dollars at Taco Bell.

“I tried calling Jisung but he didn’t answer,” you snap once Seungmin answers your call with a muffled hello. “Can one of you please come out and help me carry this in?” You glance at the five large sodas and two bags full of food in your passenger seat with a grimace. “Sure,” he agrees and you make a mental note for the umpteenth time just how much you love Seungmin, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

True to his word, you spot him making his way out of their apartment and across the small courtyard to meet you by your car not even a minute later, hauling each bag under his arms. “Thank you,” left only with the cupholder, you hurriedly lock your car and follow after him. “No problem. Thanks for being our Uber Eats,” then, pursing his lips, “how much was this?”

“Forty-seven something,” you grumble unhappily, knowing this was a big hit to your debit. “We’ll pay you back, don’t worry,” Seungmin smiles, leading you up the final flight of stairs and kicking open the ajar door.

Immediately, you’re hit with the smell.

“Dear, fucking hell,” making a face, you rub your nose to keep from sneezing, “it reeks in here. How have you guys not been kicked out yet?”

The stench of weed generally does not bother you anymore, but still—they could light a candle, or something. Seungmin shrugs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “Luck, I guess.”

“IS THAT YN?” From another room, you hear Changbin shout, followed by an excited shriek from Jisung. “They’re high. Very high. You’ve been warned,” Seungmin whispers just as tweedle dee and tweedle dum themselves come flying around the corner. “YN!” Jisung grins, engulfing you in a dramatic hug. “Watch,” you hiss, regarding the blunt held between his fingers that comes dangerously close to your hair.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then, without warning, sticks the thing right between your lips. “I didn’t even offer.” Well, when life gives you lemons…

You hesitantly take the hit and blow the smoke away from him. You weren’t planning on getting high today, but here you are. “Thanks,” shaking your head as if that will clear it, you turn to Changbin and snugly wrap your arms around him. Every day you thank the heavens that he is a chill, calm high, unlike your maniac of a roommate.

“Thanks for the food,” fishing into his pockets and pulling out a crumpled ten-dollar bill, he slaps it into your palm. You only hum in reply, shoving it into your own pocket and praying you don’t lose it before you remember to put it in your wallet. “Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask, no longer caring about being slick.

“In his room,” Seungmin answers, rummaging through the bags to find what he ordered. Then, “HYUNJIN!” You jump, reaching for your soda and standing away from the other three until they have claimed whatever belongs to them. No sooner than Seungmin calls for him, you hear a door being cracked open and out comes Hyunjin.

He looks extremely disheveled. Like, just woke up from a two-month hibernation, disheveled. In the blink of an eye, however, he rakes a hand through long blonde hair and promptly sets a baseball cap backwards to keep the strands away and suddenly, he doesn’t look so disheveled anymore. You force yourself to look away, cursing the way your gut twists.

“Gimme my crunchwrap,” you say around your straw, snatching the blunt from Jisung’s fingers and moving around him to fetch your dinner. He doesn’t even protest.

He knows you need it more than he does.

“That’s a lot of food,” Hyunjin says once he has finally entered the kitchen, voice groggy and eyes puffy from sleep. Or from being high, you can’t tell. Pressing his chest to your back, he wraps one arm around you to keep you against him while the other reaches into a bag to take what’s his. Swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, you manage a thick inhale from the blunt before tilting your head to look at him and mentally thanking the other three for taking it as their cue to head out.

“Not my fault you guys eat like animals,” you chuckle shakily, trying to ignore the firmness of his body against yours, veins prominent on the arm that holds you against him and the ripple of muscle along his abdomen noticeable even through his shirt and yours. Dear god, it is too early for this. Not even seven o’clock and you are already drooling in more places than one.

Hyunjin pouts as if it is not true. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, finally moving away to grab his drink and you can’t help your disappointment, quickly finishing the blunt before tapping it out into one of the many ashtrays. “Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, digging through their drawers for a paper plate.

“YN,” Hyunjin deadpans, regarding you with a raised brow once you come up and begin unwrapping your food. You refuse to look him in the eye. “What do I owe you?” He repeats, firmer this time and it sends a chill down your spine when it most certainly should not. Sighing, you retrieve the receipt from your pocket and count everything he got. “Thirteen.”

Humming in content, Hyunjin reaches for his wallet on the counter and pulls a ten and five out. “There,” he beams, tucking the bills into your pocket himself. Rolling your eyes, you pray he does not notice how you flush and hurry out of the kitchen to join Seungmin on the sofa.

“House Hunters?” You ask with a laugh, looking at the TV once you have settled next to him. “I told you HGTV is the best.”

Seungmin hums in agreement. “I thought it was stupid at first, but Hyunjin was watching Fixer Upper and I got addicted,” he says, nodding to the older boy doing a little dance in the kitchen as he eats one of his tacos. Your heart does somersaults at the sight. “They’re all so good,” you agree after taking a few bites of your own food, eyes trained on the television, “House Hunters is a classic, though.”

“I like the international one,” Hyunjin adds on his way over, crashing unceremoniously next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Seungmin wrinkle his nose when Hyunjin sets his free hand casually on your thigh. “Shh,” he grumbles, vaguely gesturing to the screen and chewing a mouthful of food, “I wanna hear what the house has.”

One episode turns to two, which turns to three, which turns to four, and suddenly you have been watching House Hunters with Seungmin and Hyunjin for almost three hours. It definitely is the weed, always making time perpetually slower, and it did not help when Jisung and Changbin reappeared sometime during your binge with one of Felix’s bongs. Not necessarily how you intended to spend your precious Friday night, but there is no sense in complaining when you are with your buddies and Hyunjin, of course.

Taco Bell long gone, you watch with blurry eyes when Hyunjin gets up from his slumped position against you to head into the kitchen and open the freezer. This, as well as the realization that House Hunters has ended and gone to some other, not-as-cool show, brings both you and Seungmin somewhat back to reality.

“It’s almost ten,” Seungmin announces, staring dazedly at the time on his phone. You hum in acknowledgment, certainly sober enough to reply but simply too lazy to. “I think I’m going to bed. Or play something. Don’t wreck the place,” he sighs, dragging a hand down his face before standing up. “G’night, Minnie,” you smile, watching with a furrowed brow as he continues down the hall and into his room. It isn’t until you hear his door click shut does the weight of being alone with Hyunjin settle on your chest.

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone with Hyunjin before. In fact, that usually is the way it’s been in the past three years; whether the two of you decided to do your own thing or the rest of your friends eventually left or went to bed, you are used to this feeling. Used to ignoring the butterflies in your gut when he does something particularly cute and used to tampering down the mental images you conjure up knowing it’s just you and him.

But that doesn’t make things any easier. No matter how hard you try, you simply can’t help but feel this way around Hyunjin, especially when you’re alone. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” Hyunjin asks around one last spoonful of ice cream before setting the pint back into the freezer. “Uhh…” You drone, blinking heavily at the TV and back to him as he makes his way back over. “I dunno, I’m sure you’ve been watching some drama. You can put that on.”

“You sure?” He asks with a raised brow, collapsing next to you and slumping dramatically halfway down the cushions. “Yes,” laughing, you find yourself reaching out to tuck messy strands of hair back behind his ear without hesitation, “also, why are you wearing a hat inside?”

Hyunjin pauses, straining to look up as if he will be able to see the back of his cap against his forehead. “I’m wearing a hat?”

“Yes, you idiot,” in comes the endless weed giggles and you find yourself unable to stop laughing, watching with teary eyes as he sits up and takes his hat off. “I don’t remember putting this on,” he chuckles airily, flipping the cap back and forth in his hands before tossing it onto the coffee table. “Should I cut it?”

“No!” You shout a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Shrinking against the arm of the couch, you ignore his amused smile and look to his long hair, freshly bleached strands falling down to his neck and shorter pieces brushing against his cheeks. Fuck, it should be illegal to look this good. “I like it long. It really suits you.”

“It’s annoying,” Hyunjin grins despite his complaint, lifting his legs onto the couch and flopping onto his side, head now resting on your lap. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Now that he’s offered playing with his hair on a silver platter, you don’t hesitate combing your fingers through it, tugging out pieces stuck under his head and brushing it out completely. “You could pull the sides back,” you hum distantly, separating a section of hair near his temple to pull back, “or make a bun with what you can. You just have to play around with it.”

Humming in agreement, Hyunjin resituates himself after reaching for the remote and switching to Netflix. When you go back to simply raking your fingers from root to tip in irregular directions, you don’t miss the way his eyelids flutter at the motion and make sure to pay extra attention to his scalp. When this turned into a head massage, you’re not entirely sure.

The drama Hyunjin puts on is unbearable. You stopped paying attention a while ago, focusing more on him and how he seems to enjoy it, fingers busy braiding random sections of hair, taking them out, and then braiding them again. With two finally done the way you want them to, you are midway through the third when your fingers begin to cramp up.

“Why’d you stop?” Hyunjin asks seconds after you drop the braid and stretch your fingers out. “Fingers are cramping,” chuckling at the disappointed pout of his lips, you crack what knuckles you can before going back and undoing the unfinished braid. “Oh,” he mutters, cheek still pressed against your leg, “feels good.”

Humming in response, you ignore the way his words make your heart swell and begin gathering all his hair into a ponytail, pressing the braids to lay flat and finally tying it with a hair tie once you have combed up all that you can. Immediately, his bangs and hairs closer to the nape of his neck fall out, leaving the ponytail spikey and messy. At least the braids look good. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Hyunjin asks, pausing his show and leaning up. “What’d you do?”

“Go see for yourself,” pointing to the bathroom, you comb out a looped piece of hair before he stands to do just that. His ponytail bobs the entire walk there.

When he reaches the door and flips the light on, you watch from your position as he checks himself out, brushing away his bangs and flicking the pony. You frown when he accidentally yanks at a braid.

“Come here,” you say, sitting up, “you messed up the braid.”

“Honestly,” Hyunjin considers his reflection one last time before skipping his way over, “it doesn’t look half bad.” Expecting him to sit back next to you, your pulse quickens when he anchors a hand to the armrest and leans in front you, only inches away from your face. “No, definitely,” you say once you have gotten over the shock of him being so close so suddenly, “I like it in the ponytail. You’d really impress the girls if you braided your hair yourself.” Reaching up to tuck hair back into the braid and press it down flat once more, you don’t miss the way his brows draw together and lips twitch down. “What?”

Time ceases to exist as Hyunjin begins to come closer. In reality, you know it simply is a matter of seconds, but all of space and time seems to still once he leans forward. It feels as if an eternity goes by, allowing you to count each individual eyelash, memorize the details of his skin, take note of the smoothed lines on his plump lips. The way time slows is cruel; it allows panic to set in, the realization that he most certainly is looming over you with his eyes on your lips sending a spark of excitement and anxiety through your veins.

And then, just as this realization and this panic has set your nerves aflame, a gentle hand comes to cradle your jaw before Hyunjin’s lips press against yours.

It is so easy to surrender to the taste and touch of him. Instantly, an eruption of emotions and thoughts spiraling out of control fills you, yet your brain focuses only on Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. This is not the first time you have kissed him, nor the first time simply having him so close, but the feeling that radiates from your heart outward is unlike anything you have felt before. This is uncalled for. This is not like two years ago. You were not expecting this.

Hyunjin sighs into the kiss when you lean up to loop your arms around his neck. No sooner have you done this, he breaks away to sit beside you once more, hands reaching for your waist and guiding you to sit over his lap.

You could kiss him all day, you think, palms lying flat by his collarbones before fisting the material of his shirt when his tongue prods at the seam of your lips. Blood seemingly coming to a boil and nerves sparking dangerously, you find yourself quickly sobering up as the minutes tick by, completely and utterly addicted to him and this feeling, this feeling you have craved but never crossed the line for. And now, it’s yours to keep.

Forgetting the braids, you seize the opportunity to rake your fingers through his hair. Different, than how you did earlier. Desperate. Combing it away from his face once, twice, swallowing his groans when you tug at the roots, you realize with a whine that his hands have left your face in favor of dragging down your sides, circling back to squeeze at your breasts, rubbing at your thighs and finally sliding back to your ass, situating you more comfortably on his thighs.

When Hyunjin finally breaks the kiss to journey elsewhere, littering chaste kisses across your jaw, below your ear, down your neck, the weight of your actions finally hits you. It is overwhelming, the way you come spiraling back to reality, and you are not sure if the quiet moan that leaves you is due to the press of something else against your thigh or simply the realization that you are making out with Hyunjin.

You have to stop before you get hurt again.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, shuddering when his soft lips brush against your jaw, “wait. We need to talk.”

He pauses at this, fingers digging into your sides and you feel his frown against your neck. “What’s there to talk about?” He murmurs, arms sliding around you and tugging you closer, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him close and pretend like his boner isn’t digging into you.

It’s your turn to frown. “About us,” whispering, you lift one hand to stroke through his hair, “we need to talk about us.”

“I thought my feelings were very clear,” Hyunjin scoffs, all tenderness in his voice gone. Instinctively, you lean back, blinking at him in surprise. “Unless this is just another one of your games? Does this not mean anything to you, YN? I don’t think I could stomach you running off to Changbin or fucking Chan again.”

His words pierce your heart before you have even fully processed them, hurt flashing across your features and your body goes numb. “What?” Is all you can manage, scrambling to get away from him, chest heaving and eyes suddenly burning with the brine of tears. “What are you talking about, Hyunjin?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” He shouts. You flinch, not from the way he raises his voice, but from the genuine sadness in his eyes. “The past three years have been a constant battle with you. We’re best friends, for fucks sake, I figured out a long time ago that you have feelings for me. Feelings more than best friends. Yet every fucking time we started moving in the right direction, you turned your back on me.”

You can do nothing but stand there and let the tears fall. All the words and bottled emotions you wish to say are right there on the tip of your tongue, but you simply cannot bring yourself to voice them. Not when he’s right. Not when you have turned your back on him time and time again.

And then, he hisses more to himself than you, “Is this just sloppy seconds? You never once thought about my feelings in all of this?”

The anger brewing within you suddenly bursts from the dam and hisses through your body like deadly poison. “Sloppy seconds?” You snarl, fists clenching. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Your feelings? You just said you know how I feel about you, so why didn’t you ever do anything about it? How was I supposed to know you felt the same?”

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious,” Hyunjin spits back, gaze narrowing, “didn’t think I had to spell out the fact that I like you, YN. You’re a smart girl.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” clenching your jaw, you have to look away for a moment, pacing one, two, three steps, hands raking through your hair and wiping away the stream of tears from your cheeks. You have never been filled with such rage. Having finally reached its boiling point, it now consumes you whole, sweeping off in waves and destroying all boundaries. “Confessing is not an easy thing, as you apparentlyknow, so don’t make me seem like the only idiot here. But maybe I was wrong about you if you think of me as just sloppy seconds.”

“I never said that!” Hyunjin barks, standing up to grasp your wrist when you turn away to grab your keys. “Don’t put words in my mouth! I would never, never think of you that way. I just don’t understand why you never spoke up after all this time. I’ve been dying, YN, you have no clue how badly I have been—”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” you snap, yanking your arm away from him, “I told you, Hyunjin. Telling someone you love them isn’t as easy as learning to ride a bike. You’re right, I have turned my back on you. But not intentionally. I’ve been scared, I’m a pussy, whatever.” Biting your top lip as if it will stop the tears that continue to fall freely, you avoid looking at him and glance back to find not only Seungmin, but Jisung and Changbin, too, peeking out from their doors with eyes blown wide with shock. Once you have noticed them, however, they panic and scramble to get out of sight.

Sighing shakily, you look back to Hyunjin and cannot ignore the way your heart sinks at the sight of him. Even upset, he is beautiful. You wonder how much you will see him after this.

“You don’t have to tell me you like me back to make me feel better, Hyunjin,” bouncing on your heels, you suddenly feel exhausted, body and soul heavy with the words you not only spoke, but heard, too. “We can figure this out another day, but for now, I need to go home. I’ll see you.”

Turning away once more, you do not make it very close to the front door before he stops you once more. “Wait, YN,” Hyunjin huffs, smiling softly when he reaches for your hand and you do not pull away. Running his tongue over his lip, he seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Did you mean it when you said you love me?”

⇢ epilogue

[keyboard-cowgirl]

Host, Interrupted - beta request

hey so, I'd like to a find a beta reader for my westworld, dolores/reader, wlw fic. It's been a million years since I've had a beta, but I really want one for this massive project. Let's see... you definitely need to be familiar with all three seasons of the show and comfortable reading heavyTM shit. I don't need much (if any) help with the plot. I need error fixes. I'm real chill to work with and I will happily assist you with any project of yours in return. My story is FINISHED. It's 170k words and the first work in a two-part series. Just to give you an idea of what my writing level is and what the story is about, here's the summary. The first chapter and trigger warnings for the entire story are under the cut. (Yes, my fic title is a play on the movie Girl, Interrupted. Yes, that is very much on purpose)

Non-con, suicide, death, murder, violence, gore, holy shit gore, depression, PTSD, self-harm, eating disorder, alcohol abuse, the works, it’s dark guys but *points at source material* *points at self*

Part I: The Devil is in the Details

 “Do you wake up as I do, having forgotten what it is that hurts or where, until you move? There is a second of consciousness that is clean again. A second that is you, without memory or experience, the animal warm and waking into a brand new world.” ― Jeanette Winterson

 Chapter 1:

 You have the whole train car to yourself. The magnet rail moves at amazing speeds with the kind of grace that feels like you aren’t going anywhere at all, but you are. You’re going to Westworld, the crowning achievement of the tech colossus: Delos Incorporated. The park put them on the map, quite literally after they bought an island in the South China Sea. Some 500 square miles of it is reserved for Westworld alone, the rest is divided between the other parks. You forget how big they are, but none of them are as large as Westworld. No matter how large it is and easy to get lost in, you aren’t going to up and forget why you’re here. You can’t. If you could, you’d have no reason to be on this monorail at all, relaxed into the pristine white seats, sighing at the darkened window.

Minutes pass, and your consciousness has gone somewhere you don’t have to think. A place where there’s no boredom and no worry. You snap to attention when the window lights up to show the interior of the train station. A melody of notes plays from the speaker above your chair. The voice is soft, feminine.

“Welcome to Westworld. Live without limits.”

When the doors slide open, you curl your toes and try to wake them from their fuzzy sleep. Your first steps are tired, unbalanced, and you cover your mouth to hide a yawn. As you walk off the monorail, you glance around the station. It’s just as bright as the train, and you pity the janitors for all the black scuffmarks they have to buff off the tile before you remember that the most tedious labor goes to the hosts.

The hosts – there are a dozen of them, evenly spaced out and waiting to help the guests. But there’s no one else coming off the train, just you. Dressed up and impossibly still, the hosts don’t even acknowledge you. It’s like they’re sleeping with their eyes open. They’re not here for you, but it’s weird that they’re here at all. You scour the area for a safe space when you find your welcoming committee near an escalator.

The two men stay put, but the woman gives you an excited wave.

“Harper!” Your name echoes through the station and you wish she hadn’t said it so loud. Still, you force a smile because this is a friend, and you are happy to see her. You’re happy. You’re happy…

“Hey, Elsie. How are you?” you ask as she crosses the floor to meet you. You barely have time to react before she wraps her arms around you. You can’t get your arms to hug her back, and you tell yourself it’s because she’s squeezing you too tight.

“I’m good, I’m good! How are you? I feel like it’s been so long- but it hasn’t. You lose track of time down here.”

Elsie is rambling, and you find it odd. Elsie isn’t the wordy type. She’s crass, direct, and extremely insightful, but this Elsie is stumbling over herself to make small talk. In a rare display of assuredness, you pat her on the shoulder.

“I’m alright,” you lie. “I didn’t think I’d see you today, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Elsie smiles bashfully, then turns as the others arrive. You recognize the pair she’s with – Bernard Lowe and Robert Ford. One is Elsie’s boss, the other is family.

Bernard adjusts where his glasses sit on his nose before he welcomes you. “Hello, Harper. I hope the ride wasn’t unpleasant.” You shrug. It was nice to be alone after your parents insisted on dropping you off. You can understand their concerns, but you’re not a child. Haven’t been one of those in a long time.

“I wish I could stay,” Robert suddenly interjects. Until this point, you’ve avoided looking at him. He’s an old man now, soon to face the trials of time that a mortal body can’t win. You wonder why he hasn’t died yet. A heart attack could do him in at any moment. Lucky bastard. “But there’s a project that requires my attention.” Go figure he’d leave at the first opportunity. He shouldn’t have come at all, but you let him speak. “I merely want to impart upon you how wonderful it is that you’re here, Harper. Don’t think of this place as a park or a game. It doesn’t have to be that. Westworld,” he raises his arms, displaying the pearly gates to the kingdom behind him, “can be whatever you need it to be. Here, you are awake in a dream.”

You manage a nod, and then his back is turned. His brown leather shoes clop across the floor as he disappears into a service exit between escalators. Seriously, why did he come at all if he was going to leave thirty seconds after seeing you? Maybe some things can’t be mended despite what your mom said.

You, Elsie, and Bernard stew in the silence left by one of the original founders of the park. Dr. Ford is an enigmatic man at the best of times. At the worst, he’s driven by a singular focus to achieve ever loftier goals. His ambition cost him his family once. Really, it’s a miracle you’re here at all, but other, more important people in your life have forgiven him.

“Come on,” Elsie finally says. “Let’s get you ready for your stay.”

As you weave between the sentinel hosts, the three of you leave the train station behind. Bernard takes the time to remind you the rules of the park. He doesn’t have to, you remember them.

“Now, the hosts can’t hurt you. In fact, they’ll do everything they can to keep you from true physical harm.” It isn’t the physical harm that concerns you about your stay here. “The guns are coded to differentiate between human and host. It’s going to hurt if you get shot-”

You clear your throat. “I remember, Mr. Lowe. The internship didn’t end that long ago.”

“Right, right,” he confirms. He plucks his glasses from his face and cleans his lenses as you guys walk into a large closet. Closet isn’t the right word. The place is more like a small storefront. Racks of clothes line the walls and accessories lay in display cases spread throughout. Everything is tailored to be exactly your size, but the collection isn’t fine-tuned to your taste. If it was, the vibrant, lowcut saloon style dresses wouldn’t be here. As you browse, aware Elsie is watching you choose, your mind travels back to the last time you were a part of Delos Destinations.

The internship…

The internship was a means to an end. Just this year, you worked with Behavior, you learned about host coding, and you met Elsie – who mentored you. For three months, you lived underground with the rest of the onsite staff. Everyday was a chore, but at the end of it your grandfather agreed to pay for your master’s degree. Now, you’re back three months later. You aren’t here to work, and you can’t leave until your stay is over.

You select a pair of grey breeches and find a muddy red, button up shirt to go with it. For shoes, you pick the comfiest looking boots you see. Most of your internship was spent in the workshops, but for the next few weeks you’ll be above ground, kicking around in the dust of the “Old West” as imagined by Delos. To hell with looks, you want to be comfortable. You imagine yourself not to care about your appearance, but you still pick out a belt with a holster that matches, and a leather jacket.

When you come upon a case full of guns, you hesitate. The selection of pistols is immaculate, like everything else you’ve seen so far. Everything is so damn clean, and it irks you. The more Delos tries to sell itself as perfect, the more you want to make a mess of everything. You lift the glass cover and grab a silver revolver. It’s heavier than you thought it would be, but it fits in your hand so well. That’s the thing about guns that’s always bothered you. You shouldn’t want to hurt people, and you don’t – for the most part – but every gun you’ve ever held feels like it was made for you.

Elsie and Bernard step out so you can change. When they return, Bernard is back on his tangent of explaining how this trip works. “Now, you’ll start in the center of the park. Sweetwater. Things are tamer there, but there will be plenty to see and do.”

The behavior tech raises her hand to cut Bernard off. “I got it from here, Bernard. I’ll make sure she’s good to go.” Bernard nods and wishes you well before he leaves. With that, Elsie takes a deep breath and adjusts your collar a little bit. “Finally, we’re alone.” You face warms, remembering your past with her. “I know how much you hate this place,” she states. “But I really hope you find some peace here, Harper. You’re gonna have the whole park basically to yourself, take advantage of it.”

You huff and take a step away from your friend. “The perks of being Ford’s granddaughter,” you muse.

Elsie folds her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and if our places were reversed, I’d be taking that old man for everything he’s got.”

You let that statement hang, untouched. “How is it I have the whole park to myself anyway?”

“Brass is going through their yearly audit, and they oh-so-graciously decided to give everyone a three-week vacation this time,” she mocks. “We’re running on a skeleton crew right now, but then the rest of us get to take our vacation whenever we want. I’m thinking Christmas or something else equally inconvenient for management. Maybe every Tuesday for the next 15 weeks. What do you think?”

“Hm, one week for Christmas and ten weeks of Tuesdays.”

Elsie laughs. “Oh, that’s devious, Harper. Love the way you think.”

She’s always been a bit of a flirt with you, but under all her jokes and bravado, you know there’s a brilliant but lonely woman beneath. Unfortunately for her, all you can be is a friend, and probably not even a good one at that. Like right now, how you’re not responding to her. What kind of friend just stands here in awkward silence like this? Where the hell is your mind today?

“I don’t know what all you’re going through,” Elsie muses a moment later, “but you’re not alone, okay? I made Bernard give me this assignment. He and Dr. Ford picked out a lot of the narratives and hosts you’ll come across, but they’re going to be too busy to watch you. I’ll be checking on you from time to time.”

Her sympathy doesn’t feel fake, and that almost hurts. This is the time to push a smile, but you can’t do it. “What hosts? What narratives?”

“I shouldn’t be telling you, but it’s gonna start with a bounty hunter. He’ll take you out to hunt down some bandits. From there, you’ll get the choice to side with the bandits and- and are you sure you want to know this? I feel like I’m spoiling the biggest Hollywood blockbuster of the century.”

You huff out a laugh. You don’t care about spoilers. “Stay away from the bounty hunters and bandits,” you list. “Got it. I’m just not interested in my grandfather’s games.”

Elsie straightens her blazer. “Yeah, but still try to enjoy some of it. Okay,” she tries to psyche you up. “You ready?”

“I hope you’re getting a bonus for this.”

Her hand rests on your back as she guides you forward. “The bonus is knowing I’m helping a friend.”

Your stomach drops. This definitely hurts.

--

You’re on another train. This time, the steel cage rocks beneath your feet and it’s not empty. Hosts are spread throughout the car, planted in their seats, or taking a drink at the bar. You don’t talk to them; you don’t even look at them. You know how real they seem, and despite what your grandfather has planned for you – you’re not interested in what Westworld can offer you. You’ve already got plans, big plans. You’re going to hole up in the nearest tavern and self-medicate until your three weeks are up. You don’t need Westworld to cure you of your ailments. Not that you aren’t sick, you just don’t think it can. Since a young age, the doctors said you had depression. Now that you’re older, 23, they’re not satisfied with the easiest explanation. Now you have another disease.

In a world surrounded by screens and pixels, the experts needed a new term for the bleak existence suffered by the modern man. They call it ‘Tech Fatigue’ but you’re pretty sure it was invented by the Delos marketing team. Medical professionals like to slap that diagnosis on anyone with a designer smart watch and dark rings under their eyes. Rich people – circling their second divorce and an equal number of midlife crises – seek out therapy inside one of the parks. Delos gives the doctors a fat kickback, and bam, the cycle is born. Tech companies like Delos make the problem, the solution, and profit off both. You don’t know that’s what’s happening, but it wouldn’t surprise you.

It’s ironic, really. In order to get away from a world of tech, internet, and social media, you’re taking the first train to the most manufactured place on the planet. In the mile of dirt below you, there’s a whole structure full of tablet-carrying technicians making sure the machines around you work flawlessly. Just because you can’t see the wires, doesn’t mean they don’t exist.

You wish you didn’t exist.

Suddenly, the train whistle screams. You’ve pulled up to the station in Sweetwater. As the locomotive comes to a halt, you get to your feet and grab your leather messenger bag. Nothing in that sack is yours. Except for the odd prescription, guests aren’t allowed to bring personal items into the park. You don’t have any medications because you quit all of those a while ago. Still, you need more than the clothes on your back.

You walk off the train between a flurry of host bodies. For the most part, none of them pay attention to you. They go about their loops, avoid you when you step into their path – all except for a man in a grey tweed frock. He tips his hat as he approaches you.

“Miss Harper? I’m Teddy Flood. Your grandfather paid me to keep an eye on you.”

So it begins. You look him up and down more carefully. He looks like he was plucked right off the cover of an old-timey, cringe-laden romance novel set in the Wild West with his chiseled features. But his eyes are kind, and you’re not sure how to ditch him yet so you play along as best you can.

“That’s me.”

“Can I take you somewhere? A hotel to find a room? I’ve got horses saddled for us if you-”

You hold up a hand. “Okay, I thought I could do this, but I can’t. Just… go away. Or whatever it is you do when you’re not with a guest.”

He tilts his head. “I’m afraid I can’t abide by that request, ma’am. I was paid to keep you safe, and I’m a man of my word.”

“Of course you are.” Your shoulders sag, weighed down by more than your luggage. “Fine, but we’re not doing any of your… narratives.” You should’ve asked Elsie for more details on what your grandfather and Bernard have planned for you so you could avoid it. During your internship, you worked in a different park. Park seven, the newest addition to six others. You don’t know the storylines of Westworld past what you know about old American history. Admittedly, it’s not much.

With a sigh, you press forward and walk right into another cowboy. The stranger grunts and turns, hand hovering over the pistol on his hip. Teddy steps between you two. When the guy sees that his assailant is a woman with someone to defend her, his hostility fades.

“Pardon me, ma’am.”

Though everyone so far has a very natural Southern drawl, the ‘ma’am’ thing is weird. You try to smile in acceptance of his apology, but you know your lips aren’t upturned. You used to be so much better at controlling your expression, your emotions, too. What happened to you?

Confrontation avoided, you continue into town. You almost ask Teddy where the hotel is, but as you become more aware of your surroundings, your question fades. The buildings on either of the dusty road aren’t chic. They aren’t glass and concrete monoliths reaching for the sky. In fact, most of them aren’t even two-stories tall despite the false facade that rises up from the roof like an ornate parapet. Here, everything is made of wood and clay. It’s painted in muted, earthy tones by hand, and it’s like stepping back in time. Horses of every color are hitched on posts outside, and now you kind of wonder where Teddy was going to take you on horseback. You’ve never ridden a horse before.

They’re not real horses, you remind yourself. Teddy isn’t a real man. And nothing in Sweetwater is natural, except maybe for the flies buzzing around a pile of horse dung. Surely, your grandfather isn’t crazy enough to have manufactured insects. Then again, the robotic horses are producing waste that truly, and disgustingly, smells like shit… so anything is possible.

You tell yourself that this whole experience is too much, and you’re going to find the nearest place you can have a drink before you have a panic attack. That place is the Mariposa Saloon. You push through the batwing doors, and Teddy catches them when they spring backwards as he follows you. You told yourself to be ready for the sensory overload you’d face inside, but you’re still slightly overwhelmed. Cigarette smoke wafts under your nose, people are muttering about their card game, glasses are clinking on the bar, and a piano is chiming away in the corner of the room without anyone sitting at the keys. It’s a lot. You can understand how some people would feel alive in a place like this, but it’s not for you.

Still, you push yourself to the bar. Bottles of tawny brown, gold, and clear liquor are calling you forward. You set your hands on the black counter, but the man with the twisted handlebar moustache is serving someone else first. You don’t know why you’re waiting. You’re the only person here who thinks for themselves. You can be as rude as you want to be, and no one would remember it once they were reset. You wait anyway, and one of the brothel girls see it as an opening to take a chance.

The woman’s dress is a deep ocean blue, cut so high you can see the tops of her thighs and the intricate stockings she wears to cover the rest of her legs. You hope she’s going for Teddy, but she stops beside you and grins.

“You’re new.” She reaches up and slowly caresses your face. Between the lace of her fingerless gloves and the warmth of her hand, you’re surprised at how real it feels. “Not much of a rind on you. I’ll give you a discount.”

Turning away from her hand, you clear your throat. “Thanks, but I’m just here for a drink.”

The young woman doesn’t seem too upset by your refusal. “What do you want to drink, darling?” She snaps her finger at the bartender. Throwing a towel over his shoulder, the man finally notices you.

You order a whiskey. When he asks you what kind, you fumble. Did they have different kinds of whiskey in the past? How are you supposed to know?

Teddy chuckles under his breath and answers for you. “Rye. None of that corn homebrew you try to pass off as liquor.”

The saloon girl looks past you and at your tall, handsome company. “Wise choice, Mr. Flood.”

He tips his hat, before glancing at you again. “Nothing but the best for my friend.”

You scowl. “Teddy, we aren’t friends. You don’t even know me.” This is too strange. The bartender sets out two small glasses and fills both halfway. You can’t pretend like this is normal when your normal is leaps and bounds different from the here and now. A drink at home meant serving yourself, and you poured your chilled, name brand whiskey to the top of your glass, then you drank it alone.

Teddy throws his shot back and swallows it all in one go. “I know you better than you think, and I’d like to get to you know more than that.”

You shudder. Oh god, did your grandfather put him for you to… For you two to… You can’t finish the thought. The idea of your grandfather interfering with your sex life is way more than you can handle. Before you even take your first sip, you smack your finger down on the counter – showing the bartender where he can put the whiskey when you demand it.

“Leave the bottle.”

The young woman beside you places a hand on your shoulder and you tense up as she whispers in your ear. “I’m here if you change your mind, beautiful. If I’m not your type, and neither is he, look around. Find something that strikes your fancy.”

You grab the neck of the bottle and pour another shot. Westworld is not for you, you’ve decided. It’s only three weeks you remind yourself. The hat you picked out is making your forehead itch, so you take it off and set it on the bar. Then you hear a loud pop. An older cowboy pushes through the batwing doors, a wash of red blooms across his vest as he stumbles into the saloon.

“They’re here,” he coughs out. “Hector… Escaton and his posse.”

More gunshots sound, and it’s like some miscreant lit firecrackers in the street. The saloon explodes with activity. Working girls scramble to hide behind tables. The bartender grabs a sawed-off shotgun. Teddy puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk before he tells you to get somewhere safe or be prepared to use your weapon.

It’s only three weeks.

[dongiovannaswife]

No one like you | GioLena

Second part to Giorno’s birthday fic, this time nsfw!! Mdni. Please read the warnings and read responsibly.

CW: dry humping, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, stand play, overstimulation and edging, creampie, soft but rough (?) S*x, dirty talk, little tiny bit )( of manhandling and language warning (I mean,,,, lmao). In short: horny dons. Bonus; after care with soft moments and a bit of humor unu (little bit of jealously, but nothing exaggerated —includes food mentions.)

Tittle ref; no one like you by scorpions ;)

Set the night after gettting there —i didn’t had the energy to write all that, sorry ;w; 

Part 1.     Part 2.

When the sun rises high in the sky at noon, the couple arrives at the apartment once again after a short trip around the surroundings. Tourism, he had said to her in a cheeky tone —and even if they hadn’t bought anything at the moment, there were some souvenirs they had thought to get their family and friends, but nothing sure yet. Australia was a paradise, and Giorno couldn’t get enough of its beauty.

But right now, none of it was more important than the question lingering on his mind, tied explicitly to another kind of need.

Exploring the apartment, Giorno found himself wondering when his wife would lead him to the bedroom —he was more than eager to get there.

And soon enough, she looks up at him over her shoulder, hips swaying in a teasing manner as she opens the door, stepping inside in silence with him trailing behind. “And this, birthday boy, is the bedroom —as you can see this apartment is more of a small house.” She winks to finish her sentence, hands on her hips as she turns to look at him and stop before him. “Hope you like it, baby.”

Closing the door at his back, the Don’s green eyes quickly scan the room. White and beige walls surround them with the queen sized bed resting in the middle of it. The bedroom is connected to a bathroom through a burgundy door. It doesn’t have decorations yet, but he can think of them later.

Giorno almost purrs when his wife presses her chest against him, distracting him from everything; the sudden contact makes him shiver, feeling the size difference more than ever. The way she looks up at him through battling eyelashes and a fake innocent smile making him twitch instantly, starting to get hard.

“So,” he murmurs, finally getting back to that question, wrapping an arm around her hips, “You said you are my gift, didn’t you?” his hand drops lower, gripping at her ass. “Tell me, baby, do I get to fuck my pretty little wife already?” she whines, eyes closing with raw need as her fingers sink into his biceps. He chuckles, darkly even, as he leans over to kiss her forehead.

“Don’t get so shy now, you’ve been teasing me all day. Isn’t this what you meant?”

She hums, reaching up to cup his face and bring him down for a peck that becomes two, three, four until he growls onto her mouth, biting at her lip so she moans back, and taking advantage of it, his tongue quickly finds its way inside her mouth, exploring and tearing moans and gasps from her before he pulls away —a string of saliva connecting them as he pants, eyes closed and cheeks flushed.

“Gio,” she calls, breathless. “I wanna make this all about you.” She runs a sharp black nail over his jaw, smirking when he opens his eyes and his pupils almost hide the green pools she loves so much.

Giorno’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, devil like but still soft, “Baby, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You sure?”

She smirks, standing on her tiptoes while he bends over so she can reach his face. Tilting her face, she goes for his ear, where she whispers. “You know I am, Giovanna.”

He smirks, hands traveling downwards until he cups the back of her thighs, at first gripping at the flesh until the gentle feeling of her arms around his neck gives him the green light to lift her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist as he stands to his full height, walking blindly to the edge of the bed.

“Giobaby.” She murmurs in a singsong tone, leaning in for a kiss that doesn’t fail to make him stop and focus on it, grunting when she cups his face and presses her chest against him, making his mind race with all the thoughts he had been repressing.

“For fucks sake, Helena.” He murmurs when he breaks the kiss, panting against her lips as her lips curl up in a smirk. “You always do this.”

“What?” she murmurs as he finally makes it to the bed, turning and sitting at the end of it with her straddling his hips.

“Drive me crazy.” He hooks his fingers over the straps of her sundress, sliding them down until her shoulders, cleavages and a part of her chest are exposed —he leans down then, smirking and sighing once his lips land on the skin of her neck, leaving a few openmouthed kisses there as she sighs, arching her back onto his touch. “See?” he whispers, lips grazing her skin as he spreads his palms over her hips, trailing down until he brings the dress up to her hips and, with his hands settling there, his grip tightens as he pushes her to his clothed erection, pressing down enough to tear a delighted whimper from her. “That’s what you do, doll —make me so fucking hard.”

Lena’s breath is hitched and her voice is barely above a whisper as she mutters, cheeks flushed as she keeps pressing down onto him, “It’s so strange to hear you curse, baby.”

His chuckle sends a shiver down her spine. “Does it bother you?”

She hums in a negative answer, cupping his face and pressing down as she pushes her chest onto his, biting his lip so he opens his mouth and, this time, it’s her the one exploring his mouth as he gives up control, letting her grind and touch him as she pleases. Although he could push her down and take over, the feeling of her smaller form on top of his, dominating and tearing such deep and raspy moans from his mouth has his head spinning, lost in the moment.

“Tesoro,” she calls between pecks. He grunts, hands clasping around her waist as he coaxes her into moving on top of him, simulating her movements as if she was riding him. “Mhm,” a moan cuts her off, but she keeps on through pants and the smallest of voices. “Do you trust me?”

Giorno’s hands stop their movement, letting her sit on his clothed cock as he gives her a soft, half lidded gaze. “With my life,” he confesses. “Why?”

His answer comes when the smell of lemon tea fills his senses as she reaches over, unwrapping his left hand from around her waist and places her open palm against his, intertwining her fingers in a silent confirmation that she truly trusts him —all while her eyes never leave his, serious despite the need behind the sweet light brown of these. The language of her orbs asks for his consent, for a way to keep going.

His fingers intertwine with hers, slowly but firm enough to make her smile at the feeling of his warm hand clasping hers. The rustle of a chain emerging from her ribcage makes him look down as it circles all her arm from the elbow until it reaches his hand, where it wraps around his hand and travels down to his wrist, where it forges a connection between them, represented when the chain closes it around itself, the red from the fire subsiding until it turns into black.

A warm feeling spreads through his wrist and down his arm, reaching his shoulder and quickly spreading through his chest as Wire starts to act upon him. If he had to put it into a metaphor, then he’d compare it to the feeling of someone digging into his soul, looking for the place his stand resided. Some could claim the soul overtook the shape of the body, but he was sure the soul existed apart from the body.

Wire can extract a part of the soul —and despite how scary that is, technically, he doesn’t feel anything but admiration as his wife leans closer, kissing his lips as her stand looks through him in search of that special part of his stand that she needs.

The chain comes back to life, shining red for a moment before her eyes turn golden when she breaks the kiss —and he takes this as a sign that she found it, and is burrowing it.

She smiles, letting the chain disappear. It is not necessary to keep it out while she uses the ability.

“Ready, baby?” she asks, hands massaging his shoulders while she expects an answer.

“Always, amor.”

She grins, letting Gold Experience’s power flow through her.

And then, the cool air from the room hits Giorno’s skin. Looking down with a raised eyebrow, he’s met with the sight of every piece of cloth of his turned into sunflowers, pooling around them. Chuckling in amusement, he looks back at her, noticing her dress still on. “Aren’t you overdressed, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head, standing from his lap and, parting his legs with her hands on his thighs, she kneels between them —a mischievous smirk present on her face as she replies, “Patience, Giogio: we’re just getting started. This is your gift, remember? After this, you can do whatever you want.” The warm feeling from before comes back as the soft scent of lemon tea fills his senses: that part of his stand is back.

He groans, “You know I get selfish when you say things like th— fuck.” He tenses his jaw, mouth falling closed as he stares at the image before him: her hands are so small she has to use both to circle his cock, black nails contrasting with her pale skin and making the vein on the side of his length stand out as she slowly pumps him, using one of her thumbs to spread the precum through the head, and down as she keeps lowering her caresses. She stares back at him through battling eyelashes, as she leans in, slowly and teasing. Her tongue darts out, licking her lips first before she kisses the tip, circling her tongue around it and sucking it in inside as far as she can go without hurting herself.

“Baby,” he mutters through gritted teeth, hands reaching out to tangle themselves through her curls, gathering them into a messy bun; even with the thought of snapping his hips up and burying his fingers onto her scalp, he stays still, fingers carefully trading through her hair so he doesn’t mess up with it. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He murmurs lasts, thinking back to that time she opened her mouth far beyond her limit, cutting off the side of her mouth. Despite his desperation, the last thing he could think of was harming her.

She hums around him, sending him a kind look before she closes her eyes, bobbing her head up and down as her hands work around the rest of him. Giorno’s eyes close as he throws his head back, mouth falling open as he allows himself to let loose. Being his voice the only thing he still has control over, he allows himself to whine, moan and groan as she keeps on.

A sudden moan from her sends a shiver down his spine, making him throb. His eyes open immediately as he looks down, watching as she rubs her thighs together, hands and mouth still around him. A smirk crosses his features as he grunts, slipping a hand into her jaw to make him look up at him.

She pulls away enough to look up at him. Drool and precum stain her lips and chin, and the sight almost makes him burst right there.

“As much as I love your mouth, I want you in all fours, hm?”

She hums, letting go off him —he lets go of her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders and waist in waves. Some curls long undone, instead hanging in messy wavy strands. Giorno extends a hand out, supporting her as she stands up and, without letting go of her hand, he stands from the bed too, following her lead as she circles him, “Wait,” he whispers, seeing her stop with her back against him. Stepping closer he presses himself against her, leaning down to speak directly into her ear. “I’d like to tear this dress off you, but I would love to fuck you on it later.” He chuckles as she shivers against him. His hands reach forward, lifting the dress above her head and, throwing it somewhere around the room, his eyes scan her immediately, freezing on a certain piece of cloth still reminding.

Lace panties. Intricate designs that wrap around her hips, teasing and elegant all in one.

Giorno chuckles, running his palm over her hip, pressing himself into her backside, “Anything else you’d like to surprise me with?”

“Perhaps,” she mutters back, twisting her head still in her position and, kissing his cheek, she kneels in the bed, not before whispering something else before she gets into position. “Look closely, baby.”

She bends over, elbows propped into the bed as she arches her back, pushing her hips back in the act.

His breath hitches as he notices, feeling himself get harder —lust growing even more, he almost chokes on his own saliva as he comes to realization that these lace panties are nothing more but crotchless lace panties.

Another chuckle rumbles through his chest, deeper. “I see why you decided not to turn around, wish my birthday was every day.”

She laughs, looking back at him over her shoulder, “It doesn’t have to be, or am I doing something wrong?”

“Don’t misinterpret me, bunny.” He grips at her hips as he stands between her legs, at the edge of the bed. “I said it earlier,” he grips at himself, rubbing her clit with the tip. “You drive me crazy every day, always. Forever. Whatever,” he growls as his mind starts to wander, lost in the feeling of her folds as he rubs his cock over them, teasingly. “You get me.”

She hums, forgetting the conversation as she sighs, letting her face touch the bed as whimpers fall from her lips, murmurs of his name in between as she wiggles her hips, desperate for him.

And he chuckles once again, running a finger up and down her entrance, gathering the fluid in it and smearing it over himself. “Look at this, all this just from sucking me off?” He pushes in, confident that she won’t be hurt after checking in. “So?” he murmurs, awaiting an answer as he keeps pushing in, letting her adjust to his size.

“Mhm,” she murmurs in affirmation, gripping at the sheets as she pants. “Just for you…” she bites her lip as he finally bottoms out, palms spread over her hips. “You’re so big — ‘m full.” Lena’s words become slurred by the end, cursing under her breath.

“I know, baby.” His fingers trace circles over her hip as he pulls out, slamming back again slowly. Enough to help her adjust and get comfortable. “But look how well you take me.” He thrusts again, fingers tightening around her hips in a bruising grip as he thrusts again, short and hard.

The moan that falls from her lips makes him smirk, thrusting once more as he stops, going as deep as he can go and reaching his hands out to her sides he pulls her against him.

Calloused fingers trace up as he sucks a hickey into her shoulder, feeling her tremble and grip at him at the same time. He’s dying to touch more. “Lena,” his hands cup her breasts carefully, almost like he’s scared to hurt her. “Does this feel good?” it had been a while since he had gotten to touch her chest, aware of her sensitiveness left from breastfeeding the boys —but lately, he had noticed her starting to get comfortable enough to press her chest onto him. It was like a silent signal.

And now, with her pleased hum and the way her head rolls into him, nothing else could confirm his suspicions. Rolling her nipples between his fingers, he starts moving again. Sharp, hard thrusts that have her reaching out to grip at his hair and moaning his name.

The wet sounds of skin meeting skin mixed with her moans make him groan and moan, cursing every time she grips particularly hard. Wrapping an arm around her middle, he supports her like that, flush against him as he keeps going, his other hand busy playing with her chest as his lips bruise the skin of her neck and shoulder, moans distorting his words every time he talks; pure filth leaves his lips as he does, voice deeper and filled with cockiness.

“Do you remember, doll?” he stops to accentuate his words with a hard thrust, waiting a moment to pull out and slam back in. She shudders, fingernails sinking into the arm around her waist as a moan leaves her lips and she leans her head back. Eyes blown out and cheeks red, she seems to plead for him as her lips part but nothing comes out, only pants. Giorno’s eyes quickly find the contrast between the hickeys and bite-marks all over her shoulders and neck, finding the image too much to bear. Closing his eyes and giving another thrust, he slows down so he can focus and speak, eyes boring into hers. “The last time I had you like this, well,” he smirks, snapping his hips into hers slowly now as he leans right before her ear, “You know what happened. Who happened.”

She mumbles something incoherent, nodding her head a couple of times as a moan tears through and her hips meet his for the first time —and Giorno’s heart skips a beat when he feels her gush around him, walls closing around him like a vice. His laugh rumbles through his chest, warm and teasing as he goes back to his bruising pace, hand leaving her chest and traveling down until the pads of two fingers find her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves slowly; and pressing down when her hips starts to imitate the movement. All while she keeps gushing around him, panting and moaning his name.

“Gonna cum, baby.” She murmurs, broken and needy. He’s sure her nails are leaving marks, but he doesn’t care.

His hips stop immediately. The sudden loss of friction makes her whine, looking back at him through her shoulder as he pulls his hands away, lips curled in a devilish smirk as he coos at her to wait. Leaning down to steal a kiss, his tongue darts out as he licks her lips, humming when he tastes himself on her lips. She hums back, trying to reach for him.

But he’s faster, arms reaching out and laying her down into the bed —then, as he kneels in the bed, he pulls her up so she ends up laying completely in the middle of the bed. Parting her thighs with his hands, he kneels between her legs, massaging the trembling thighs as he looks down at her through half lidded eyes full of lust.

His eyes don’t fail to take her in every detail: cheeks red, lips parted and brow furrowed while she tries to process what just happened. Sensitive upon the loss of her orgasm. Hands at each side of her head, palms exposed and chest heaving with her elaborated breathing. Her hair, with some curls doubling the size as they become loose strands of wavy hair, frame her head as the sudden movement made them end up spread through the pillow under her head.

“Sorry angel,” he murmurs. “But I wanna cum inside of you —wanna fill you up nice and deep.” He smiles softly despite the intensity of his confession, leaning down to kiss her forehead and humming once her hands place themselves on his back, warm palms spread open. His hands reach forward, tearing open the panties —she doesn’t even care, lost on him. Not even when he throws both pieces of cloth that used to be her panties away, almost like that didn’t happen.

Her chuckle against his lips rises goosebumps on his skin as he pulls away just enough for her to talk. “Eager to make more so soon, love?”

He smirks, stealing one more kiss before he straightens his back. “You know we can’t because of your IUD,” he reaches down at his cock, guiding the tip in and pressing it in, watching with a bigger smirk as her mouth hangs open and her eyes close. “But as soon as we decide it’s time to give the boys a brother or sister,” he leans in, kissing her nose and leaning back while he takes both of her thighs, pulling her legs up his shoulders. Twisting his head to kiss her calves, he shoots her a wink as he ends up his small speech. “You’ll remember my words.” Reaching a hand out, he rubs her clit while pushing in, keeping track of her gestures so he doesn’t hurt her —when there’s no sign of discomfort and he’s bottomed out, Giorno’s eyes shot up to hers, holding her gaze for a moment. Softening, he leans in with her calves still on his shoulders. Only when she puts her hand on his chest in a signal that it’s too much pressure and stimulation he stops, mumbling. “I love you,” before he starts moving slowly. He can feel himself reaching deeper, feel her breathing against his face every time she moans and whispers.

“I love you too,” she whimpers out, “Happy birthday, baby.” She trails off, eyes closing as he hits that spot. Her nails sink into his chest, leaving red marks as she trails them down, unaware of her actions as she keeps moaning, mumbling how good it feels, asking him to keep going —and, low but audible for him, asking for his cum.

He groans, eyes closing tightly as his thrusts become erratic, desperate and, as he gets closer, sloppier and messier with each passing second.

Just when her palms leave his chest and circle his back, nails back at the skin of his back he opens his eyes, watching her melt as she comes around him, a high-pitched moan escaping and, right after, raging breaths stop her from breathing normally as her eyes lazily open to look at him. The sting from her nails leaving more red angry marks bring him to the edge as he licks his lip, biting on it before his mouth hangs open. Hot spurts shoot inside of her, tearing a few whimpers from her as Giorno shudders, burying his forehead into her chest as he goes for the last thrusts.

Only when he’s almost through his orgasm he buries himself as deep as he can go, putting his hands at each side of her head, taking a deep breath so he kneels in the bed, putting her legs down, at each side of his hips.

Lena’s hands reach out for him, cupping the back of his head and, with a small tug, Giorno quickly moves so she can get access to his face and neck, not without cursing under his breath as he watches her move under him —even when she whimpers with the sudden stimulation, she still leans in, sucking a hickey into his jaw, letting go as soon as she’s sure her mark is there: her head falls into the pillow and she keeps trying to come down.

“You okay, Lena?” he asks through pants, looking down at the place they’re still connected, noticing the way some of the mixed fluids trail down into the sheets even when he’s still inside. Feeling the marks sting deliciously.

“Hmh,” she hums, finger tracing the red marks on his arm. “You?”

He laughs, genuinely. “Of course —and I’m going to feel even better after this.”

She hums inquisitively.

Pulling out, he watches her mouth hang open for a moment, oversensitive from her orgasm and, of course, feeling it dripping out.

And he stays there, kneeling between her legs, watching his cum drip out slowly, staining the sheets as she whines. Cheeks flushed in a mix of pleasure and embarrassment.

“It’s okay, baby.” He whispers, noticing the last, “That’s…” he cleans his throat when he drifts out, mesmerized with the image. “—So fucking hot.”

She laughs, hands covering her face. “What a way to break in an apartment.”

Giorno laughs too, standing from the bed to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom. From there, he decides against it —asking instead, “Wanna take a shower, tesoro? Doubt you want to sleep like that after… That.”

Turning on her side, she frowns when the pain from his grip around her hips shoots through the zone and down her legs. “Yeah,” she shouts back, laughing quietly afterwards. “You just fucked my brains out —and I’m gonna walk like Bambi.”

Giorno’s snort is not missed as he starts to get the shower ready. Taking both their shampoos close and a soft, enjoyable body wash close, he puts two sets of towels within his reach. Walking back into the room, he allows Gold Experience out.

“Ready?” he asks, looking for one of his shirts for her to wear. “Goldie will take care of the sheets and the clothes.”

With the stand nuzzling her cheek as he hugs her from behind, Lena hums, mumbling her answer. “Uh-uh. But you’ll have to carry me, my legs are like jelly.”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he stands with a white t-shirt and her panties. “As expected, sweetheart.” He put the clothes in the bathroom, coming back to retrieve a pair of black boxers for him. Repeating the action, he struts back in the room with a small smile as he gets to feel the faint touch of her hands around his waist. The image before him confirms his suspicions; laying her head on Gold Experience’s chest, she nuzzles against him, sighing contently.

“Everything’s ready, Lena.” He comes to stop before the bed, sitting down at the edge. Reaching out, he puts his palm all over her thigh, noticing her frown upon the pain in the zone. “Sorry, angel. I’ll make up.”

“It’s okay,” she sits up, struggling for a moment. Even then, her lips curl up in the sweetest of smiles. “I loved it.” She winks last, making him blush as he shakes his head, standing back again.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll let you go around all sore, though.” Passing an arm under her legs and the other behind her back, he lifts her up bridal style, walking into the bathroom.

“Alright,” she laughs quietly, kissing his chest, right where the owl tattoo starts. “But please know I loved it when you kept cursing.”

“Oh?” finally inside the bathroom, Giorno stands and kicks the door close with Lena still on his arms, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk. “Is that so? Horny baby.”

She laughs, wholeheartedly —red lights her cheeks up as he puts her down, circling her waist with an arm. His smile doesn’t fade as he helps her get under the shower, holding her up while her hands circle his waist.

“Hot or cold water?” he asks in a whisper, mumbled into her hair.

“Cold?”

The water starts running down. At first, she shivers under its touch, moving closer to him as he keeps holding her up. As they stand underneath the cold water, Giorno’s lips land on every hickey and bite mark, hands roaming through the spots he bruised to try and soothe the bruises. All his touch and the water leave on their path are goosebumps as Lena hums, leaning further onto him.

Lifting her head from his chest, Lena reaches out to turn off the water, grabbing Giorno’s shampoo from the side. Pouring some of it into the palm of her hand, she shoots him a brief look before he’s leaning into her —arms around her waist as he keeps holding her up, and face pressed into her shoulder so she can reach his hair. Massaging his scalp, the mint scent soon fills her senses and she smiles without even knowing. Humming a low tune, she keeps spreading the bubbles through his mane, making sure it doesn’t get into his eyes.

Water runs down Giorno’s hair and back —with his eyes closed and lips pressed in a tight line as she holds his breath in, Lena works quickly, getting some of his soap into her hands and washing his face in light touches. Washing it all off, she reaches for the towel to dry his eyes first. Green eyes open slowly, finding her grinning down at him, soft and in love.

“Your turn.” He murmurs, reaching out to her shampoo. The honey scent from it makes him sigh dreamily as he holds her closer, repeating the routine with her. He takes his time, hands trailing as he washes her off carefully, pressing kisses to every little bruise he finds. Any spot that could be sore in a few hours, he makes sure to kiss it and soothe it. He makes her lift a leg, holding it in his hand so he can clean her intimate areas, taking special care with how he does it so no soap gets inside —her hold around his neck is tight as her other leg shakes a bit. As soon as he’s done, she intends to do the same for him, but Giorno’s whispers makes her stop, reasoning with her that it’s too much for her. That, instead, she should just hold onto him while he makes sure to get the rest done. Even when she protests at first, he soon finds a way to convince her.

Forged in Fire in the background, the couple lays on the couch, watching the show with deep interest. As the introduction to the Scottish claymore starts, Giorno growls lowly, mumbling under his breath.

Lena frowns, ignoring David Baker’s brief appearance much to her dismay —Giorno would find amusing her admiration for him; he’s talented and his outfits are always on point, she’d say before rambling about the times he had forged in camera, — turning around to face her husband, she puts a gentle arm around his waist, settling her palm on his back. Giorno’s hand finds its place on her butt, spread open as he holds her shirt in place; even then, his finger still makes contact with the soft fabric of her underwear, and he takes note of it.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks in a whisper, eyes looking up at his through curly eyelashes.

“I’m hungry.” He mumbles with a frown of his own, uncomfortable with his sudden need.

Her smile lights up the room. “Not a problem. Should we get food delivered?”

He thinks about it for a second, “Fine, but I’ll open the door.”

Lena raises an eyebrow, looking at him incredulously. “You’re literally the one wearing boxers.” She looks down at him, blushing at the sight of his v line, but quickly looking up to find him smirking.

“Yeah,” he hooks a finger on the hem of her shirt —which is, in fact, his given the way the fabric pools around her thighs and the sleeves reach her forearms. She’s literally swimming in that shirt. “But you’re wearing nothing but panties and my shirt: and the latter, baby, is white. As soon as you step out,” he almost rolls his eyes at the thought, playful but holding a dose of reality. “Let’s say I don’t want to break someone’s nose.”

Lena laughs, flustered. She still nods, counterattacking. “Fine, I’ll take it. But,” one of Wire’s chains reaches out, retrieving her phone from the coffee table. “I’ll do it because one; I can’t walk and two; I don’t wanna step out like this.”

“Why?” he asks, genuinely concerned, would it be possible for her to feel insecure? Or…?

“It’s my day off and I don’t feel like explaining to the police or the locals why my husband punched a delivery man and I shouldn’t have to attend to a broken nose like this.”

He nods, containing his laughter —that joke got to him and he can’t deny it. “Alright, alright.” He hums, extending his hand out in silent question for her phone: when she places the device on his hand and he looks at the bakeries around the zone, a question emerges and even if he already knows the answer he still asks, already tapping the option to request said treat, “Any cravings, doll?”

“Carrot cake, of course! Wait,” she looks on, squinting with a funny crack on her nose. “I should ask that. It’s your birthday.”

He laughs, shaking his head. With a playful undertone, he says: “Okay, ask then.”

Batting her eyelashes like nothing happened, she shifts until her arms rest on his chest and she’s propping herself on the couch with her elbows, half laying on top of him. “Is there something you wish, Giobaby?”

Giorno’s breath hitches as he stares at her —she’s pretty. No, he thinks, perfect like this. Dressed on his shirt and so natural with no make-up; hair lightly out of place with beautiful wild curls framing her features. Kind brown eyes that bore into his soul with the sweetest of looks. And he knows that he’s so down and, at the same time, that doesn’t even worry him like it used to do when he met her, when his feelings started. Oh, no; right there, all he can do is reach out, cupping her face with a warm, large hand. Voice in a whisper, deep and soft as he murmurs, “Carrot cake.”

[sol1056]

wuxia/xianxia: a loose and somewhat second-hand introduction to the genre, pt1

Sorry for the unconventional q, but i keep seeing Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation everywhere and I kinda want to get into it but a) don't know where to start (web series? live action adaptation?? wait how many are there!) and b) i don't really "get" wuxia / xianxia, that sorta stuff, i find it really hard to cross that cultural barrier and chinese mentality seems very alien. (it's not that i have no experience w different mentalities but chinese in particular is v hard to grasp w/o sources).

So if you have the time and patience, I'd love to hear a summary of it (like, a coherent summary bc all i get on the wikis is a shower of names and concepts that don't make sense to me) and perhaps some "intro for dummies" abt the relevant parts of chinese history and mentality tied to it? not just the cultivation / buddhist part but also re: familial relationships, philosophy and all that. (v brief and low effort of course) Thank you and sorry for bothering you!

("brief and low effort" referring to what I'm asking from you, not to what I need for me - as in i asked for it so i'm more than ready for a complicated essay, but you can write with as much detail as you like, I don't want to ask for some sort of comprehensive tome)

Okay first, you do realize that if you want “brief and low” for anything, you’re asking the wrong person? I was a philosophy major. brief got drilled out of me a long time ago. 

Second... well, explaining what makes The Untamed / Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (mdzs for short, from the chinese title, Mo Dao Zu Shi) such a standout story does require understanding some of the wuxia conventions it subverts -- as well as some that it plays straight (so to speak) very, very well. 

I figure the best approach (again, sadly not brief) is to first get a handle on the genre of wuxia. Gonna break this post into two, so you’re not reading in a single three-hour stretch or something. I’ll do a follow-up about mdzs, to hopefully make it a bit more accessible for you. 

before I do that, let me first say: I didn’t grow up with this genre, so there’s going to be parts that I may miscast unintentionally. for an insider’s view, my go-to voices are @guzhuangheaven, @atthewaterside, @dramatic-gwynne, @the50-person and @drunkensword. if any of them are reading this and can point to more/other/better voices, please do.

I have three analogies -- like cultural doorways --  and like all analogies, they break down when you get into the finer details. In the broad strokes, though, they mostly work, and if nothing else, hopefully they’ll demonstrate that wuxia may be a chinese-specific version, but part of a storytelling tradition that’s nearly universal.

The three doorways are: the american wild west, the samurai era, and the british arthurian romances. And, in a tangential way, the regency period in the romance genre. 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- 

The term ‘wuxia’ can be translated several ways, but I prefer ‘martial chivalry’. Most wuxia takes place in the jianghu, a harder term to unpack. Generally, though, ‘the jianghu’ has connotations not all that different from what americans mean when they reference the wild west. 

More of a concept than a physical place, the jianghu (like the ‘wild’ west) exists beyond the reach of the law and/or civilization. It’s occupied by a diverse cast of farmers, merchants, beggars, and so on, but also by outlaws, gangs, hermits, pretty much all those who don’t like the suffocating nature of the civilized world, for whatever reason. It’s not a lawless place (except to outsiders); it does have laws, but those are only unto itself. 

So, jianghu is a world to itself, for the most part -- which also makes it kind of timeless. Tang dynasty, Song dynasty, Ming dynasty, it could be any of them and all of them and none of them. Just as the heyday of the cowboys and the cattle drives was barely a decade long, a culture’s romanticized history stretches into lifetimes that exist separate from any date you could pin down on a calendar. 

The average wuxia protagonist would fit in reasonably well as knight errants in an arthurian romance, with one important detail in difference: they’re rarely aristocrats. Wuxia protagonists are just as likely (if not more so) to be lower-born, whether the child of farmers, or servants, some common caste. 

This is where wuxia diverges from the british and japanese traditions, which have a bit more noblesse oblige going on (knights and samurai both being upper-class types). Even ‘aristocratic’ characters tend to be so only within the jianghu -- sort of like the way a territory’s elected leader in the wild west would’ve had no pull in Washington, given they weren’t from a fully-recognized state. 

Wuxia does often have politics, between competing sects (think schools of learning), but that political infighting is independent of the capital’s rules or wishes. A lot of stories -- in the rare cases the topic even comes up -- tends to speak of ‘the capital’ in disparaging terms. 

That’s not to say wuxia is all about the flat social systems (it’s definitely not), but most commonly a rank implies some level of competence/study. The title of sect leader isn’t granted, it's earned. Children inherit, but it’s also a common storyline to have an heir with no skills (who then goes through all the trials and tribulations to finally level up and earn that position in turn).

What makes wuxia hard to grasp is its vernacular: the conventions that form the backbone that make something recognizably ‘wuxia’ and not just ‘historical drama set on a frontier in a loosely-defined time period’. 

Frex: in a Wild West story, convention is two gunfighters at opposite ends of the street, and at least one of them is wearing a holster tied to his leg with string in a way that no real gunfighter wore, ever, but Hollywood came up with the idea and now it’s a permanent part of our imagination. In the arthurian romances,  convention is carrying the token of one’s lady love (a distant, untouchable figure who rarely appears on-page), or meeting the unnamed knight in black on the jousting field. Convention are the samurai who’ll die for their lord’s honor, always touchy and prickly at the first sign of disrespect. 

These are things granted the most remarkable gravity, that to an outsider might seem ridiculous. (Why is there always tumbleweed?) 

Now, wuxia is the latest evolution in a long-lived literary tradition (and by ‘long’ I mean like 2000+ years) -- but like any living tradition, each subsequent generation reinvents it for their time. Part of that reinvention comes from particularly influential writers, who put their own spin on things, and their interpretation becomes the next generation’s standard for the genre -- “of course wuxia must have X” or “a protagonist never does Y”. (Like how Tolkien almost single-handedly changed western concepts of elves, in fiction.)

And here’s where I explain what regency romance has to do with it. Another short-lived period, in real history, but along came Georgette Heyer, who took bits and pieces of actual research, blended them with her reactionary politics, exaggerating some things and ignoring other things completely. The result is a time-that-never-was, but she cast (and still casts) a shadow so vast that I’ve seen multiple romance writers complain that readers will see a footnoted-and-researched version as wrong, if it contradicts one of Heyer’s made-up conventions. 

Modern wuxia has its own Heyer-sized influencers -- like Jin Yong (the Condor trilogy, Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils), Wen Rui'an (The Four), Gu Long (The Legend of Flying Daggers, The Proud Twins), to name a few of the biggest. If you have a chance or are inclined, the big names get remade on a pretty regular basis, and catching one will at least let you see some ur-tropes in action. 

But it also means that you can’t really extrapolate, in the sense of saying, “in wuxia, people do X, ergo, X is also a factor in Chinese culture.” It’s like... take any western made in the 50s, and the vernacular is simple. The bad guys wear black hats, the good guys wear white hats, the prostitutes wear bright-colored dresses with frills and the good women wear subdued colors buttoned up to their neck. It told an audience exactly what character filled what role, but that’d tell you zero about real people you might meet in Nebraska or Utah, let alone New York City. 

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Almost forgot: xianxia is basically wuxia but with ‘immortal heroes’ -- so there’s gods, divine influences, non-human beings as characters (main or NPC), etc. (Btw, by ‘immortal’ I mean exactly that, like this character is six hundred years old, that one’s a thousand years old, etc.) You can think of xianxia as wuxia, but amped way up on the mystical scale. 

Xianxia will sometimes take place on earth (jianghu) but sometimes in the celestial realm (heaven). Or a mix of both, like stories where a character falls (or is banished, or defects) from heaven and has to go through various trials and tribulations as a mortal human in order to regain a power, rise in rank, fall in love, or whatever their goal is. 

A number of wuxia stories are driven by some sort of mcguffin, but in xianxia, the mcguffin is more likely to be a powerful spiritual weapon. But I can also think of a number of wuxia in which the mcguffin would fit right in, in xianxia (some near-mystical thing with significant positive, or negative, power independent of the wielder, which often amplifies or boosts the wielder to an inhuman degree, etc). 

Thing is, the mcguffin being divine/infernal supernatural isn’t enough alone to make the story xianxia. I’m pretty sure you need non-human or super-human immortals and/or creatures to be considered in the xianxia genre. 

part two