#it's blue thing hours but it really should not be

[lu-is-not-ok]

two in one theory... i am listening very intently if you ever feel up to share it!!

Alright, so this is gonna be... as close to an Abridged explanation of the theory as I can make, because if I went off on everything about it I would end up writing a whole dissertation or five hour video essay script on this shit.

There are gonna be three main sections to this post - Hong Lu's Daiyuisms, Hong Lu's Themes of Identity and how that connects to the concept of Two in One, and the Daiyu-Baoyu theory itself.

Strap in folks.

Hong Lu's Daiyuisms

If you know anything about my theories in the earlier days of Limbus, you might know that I'm one of the very few people who was convinced Hong Lu is actually Daiyu, due to some evidence I found personally compelling. This has not changed, as we've only gotten just as much extra evidence to this as we have to him being Baoyu. So let me just speedrun through some of these points.

The Fucking Jade Eye

Ok hear me out. This is maybe the least important piece of evidence but I can never stop thinking about it. Hong Lu's jade eye? Not actually fully blue! If you look closely on most of his sprites, you can see that he actually has sectoral heterochromia, meaning his jade eye is both blue and black.

Daiyu's name, quite literally, translates to blue-black jade.

Now, you could claim that this is merely meant to be an easter egg reference to her, but... is that really Project Moon's style? After all, when people speculated on Don Quixote being Sancho or a Bloodfiend partially based on her appearance all the way back since near launch, they turned out to be right.

Hong Lu's Father

As of now, there is only one instance of Hong Lu referencing his Father in Limbus, and it's a voiceline from his Base Identity:

Now, if you know anything about DOTRC, this should already be raising some flags, because if Hong Lu was just Baoyu, he would not fucking talk like that about his Father.

In the book, Baoyu is consistently shown to be afraid of his Father, for a good reason mind you, as he's his main abuser. Baoyu would not be looking forward to introducing his friends to that man.

Even if Hong Lu was trying to downplay the abuse he's recieved, this would still not fit his pattern of behavior. When topics that genuinely bother Hong Lu come up, such as what could make him distort or how rich people would enjoy gifts made of humans, he immediately pivots and tries to avoid the topic at all cost. He would not bring up his main abuser in such a lighthearted manner, he would avoid bringing him up at all cost.

However, there is a character in DOTRC which does in fact have a more positive relationship to her Father, and would likely be the one with an opinion such as that - Daiyu. Daiyu loves her Father, and when he dies she completely disappears from the story for a bit to attend his funeral. If there was anyone who would be excited to introduce their friends to their Father, it'd be Daiyu.

Lasso Hong Lu's Corrosion

I made a whole seperate post about this, but I might as well mention it here as well for the sake of completion. The design choices made for Hong Lu which are missing for Faust are very, very Daiyu-coded.

For one, not only does Hong Lu completely turn into a flower, unlike Faust, his horse also gains a flower in its mouth. For those whose knowledge of DOTRC is zero to none, Daiyu is a reincarnation of a Flower given sentience due to being watered by the Jade. I don't think I have to be the one to connect the dots between those two pieces of info for you.

The second is how the halters become a noose for Hong Lu. This, too, is a very Daiyu thing - Rose Hunter as an Abnormality represents the inability to escape one's fate, and Daiyu's fate is to die - the Jia Family arranging a marriage between Baoyu and Baochai leads to Daiyu falling deathly ill, which in itself could be considered a part of her repaying her Debt of Tears - the debt she swore to repay to the Jade/Baoyu when she was still a Flower.

The hilarity of the fact that this E.G.O came out in the same update as Hong Lu being called Baoyu in-story is not lost on me.

Rose Sign Abnormality Log

The third Log for Rose Sign ends in a very peculiar way.

There's multiple ways one can tie Hong Lu's odd reluctance to talk about flowers and the petals. One is the obvious "he's being reminded of Daiyu because she was a Flower" connection, but there's another one.

One of the most commonly potrayed images of Daiyu relates to a scene in DOTRC where she buries fallen flower petals, weeping for and lamenting the mortality of the flowers and herself. Hong Lu's reaction here to his fellow Sinners being reduced to nothing but petals upon Rose Sign's death feels like a notable parallel to Daiyu's flower burial scene.

Like literally everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu

The title for this is a bit of an exaggeration, but at the same time. I'm serious. Kurokumo Hong Lu is perhaps the most Daiyu Identity out of all the Hong Lu Identities we have, and the way he is designed to stand out among them further makes me go insane.

Kurokumo Hong Lu's most defining trait is his attitude - he often complains about his position and how authority treats him, though he doesn't really act out against them in any major way outside of making snarky or sarcastic remarks.

This is, frankly, an extremely Daiyu thing to do. Daiyu is one of the few characters who audibly complains about her treatment in the household. For example she complains about not being given as many opportunities to show off her poetry skills as her male peers are, and she recognises how, when all the girls in the family are given flowers, she's the last one to recieve them and thus is stripped of the ability to pick, being only given the leftovers.

Then there's the whole. Everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu's visual design. Because once you realize just how Daiyu-like the Identity is, you realize just how weird he is compared to other Hong Lu Identities. I mean just look how he compares to his other Identities.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity with a blue tint to his hair in the combat sprite rather than the usual purple.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity whose hairtie is a ribbon rather than a jade ring (Liu Hong Lu technically has the ribbon in his post-uptie art, but he doesn't have it in his combat sprite so I'm not counting him).

He's the only Hong Lu Identity to not be smiling in his combat sprites.

And he's the only Hong Lu Identity (and one of only four Identities in the game) whose Idle sprite has its body facing away from the opponent rather than facing towards them.

All of those combine to make him stand out like a sore thumb in a Hong Lu Identity lineup in a way that makes it feel intentional, especially since he's also the only Hong Lu Identity with that kind of notable attitude towards authority. Other Hong Lu Identities are either obedient, don't express any opinion, or just straight up are the authority.

The Baoyu reveal is framed in a very weird way

This is, admittedly, less of a Daiyuism and more of a not-Baoyuism, but I thought it'd be important to mention nonetheless.

There are a lot of things about Canto 7's reveal of Hong Lu's name being Baoyu that are very strange, especially compared to how the Canto frames Don Quixote's own reveal of actually being Sancho.

For one, the timing itself - why is such an important piece of info being revealed so early? Again, compare to Donqui - she was revealed to be a Bloodfiend in the Intervallo right before Canto 7, and the Sancho reveal only came in the second half of the Canto.

For two, the framing - Donqui's reveals are treated as what they are, Major Reveals. The Baoyu reveal on the other hand happens in a single off-handed line, with nobody reacting to it in any way. Neither Hong Lu nor the other Sinners seem to hear it after all.

And mind you, it's not like Limbus is opposed to giving us important information in off-handed lines - far from it in fact. Project Moon loves shoving little bits of foreshadowing and reveals you don't realize are reveals until way later in these kinds of off-handed lines. But the way those lines are treated is still very different to how the Baoyu reveal is treated.

Usually, when there's foreshadowing in off-handed lines, it's usually either vague enough to be something a character could say regardless of context (see Yi Sang getting hung up on the Sedatives bit in Canto 2 or Ishmael's comment about Syndicates pretending to be Families foreshadowing her own history with the Middle via Queequeg) or something that is in the middle of a scene that distracts from what is actually being said (like Hong Lu's distortion foreshadowing being in the middle of an important infodump or most of everything in Canto 2 being surrounded by a comedic tone).

None of this is present for the Baoyu reveal. There's nothing to distract you from this information, as the scene is already focused on discussing Hong Lu, meaning you're already likely to be paying attention to what is being said about him. There's also no vagueness about it, there's no way you can brush it off since not only are Wei and Xichun newly introduced characters, but it's a whole ass clearcut namedrop.

The only way I can justify that reveal being there in the form it takes is that it in itself is the distraction. Think about it. Didn't I point it out earlier that this reveal came in the same update as the E.G.O with an extremely Daiyu-coded corrosion design? Wouldn't it make sense for that reveal to be there to lower your guard, make you think you resolved that mystery, only to later on reveal it wasn't the whole story after all?

Hong Lu's Themes of Identity

So this section is a bit more vague than the Daiyuism section, because Hong Lu is the type of guy to just Say Shit all the time. It's basically just. Anything that I find relevant to the idea of Hong Lu's Identity being more complex than him just being a random guy using a pseudonym, with some (but maybe not all) of them directly tying to the idea of Two in One.

"Which one is the real you?"

There are currently two seperate scenes where Hong Lu muses on the idea of someone's identity being in some way vague or obscured.

Is Dante the person or the clock? Is the dreamer the one in the dream or the one who wakes from it? Which you is the real you? Does it even matter if that you will flutter away in the end?

This idea of there being one true self. That even if there are two, there is only one of them that is actually you. Curious, right?

Face-changing dance

During the Canto 2 scene where everyone gives their reasons for whether or not they'd be a good pick for being the one to dance, Hong Lu says this.

Bian lian is a kind of dance literally translated as "face-changing". It involves rapid changes between various masks and make-up to represent different emotions or characters.

Now, it's no secret that Hong Lu is a great actor, as we see in Canto 4, and Canto 7 shows how the comparison to theatre and actors can be used to symbolize one's performance of identity, as it does for Sancho and her Don Quixote persona.

Mind you, this reveal comes in the same scene as Sinclair's dance invoking the image of a bonfire burning all through the night according to the Mariachis, a clear foreshadowing to Canto 3 and the Literal burning down of Sinclair's home.

Hong Lu knowing bian lian could be further foreshadowing to his own skills in deception, and how he too is a sort of actor, not unlike Don Quixote. On the other hand however, it could also be a more literal foreshadowing, that he (Baoyu) Quite Literally changed his face. We won't know until Canto 8, but it is an option you know.

The HamHamPangPang dish(es)

For those who don't know, here is a list of the Sinner-themed dishes that were available at HamHamPangPang.

Now, chances are, not all of them have deep meanings. I don't think there's much of a deep meaning to Heathcliff and Ishmael's dishes, I think PJM just legit don't know much about British/American cuisine so they just picked something recogniseable.

However, not all of them are meaningless picks either. Ryoshu, likely a mother, has a meal literally called "parent-and-child donburi". Don Quixote, a Bloodfiend, has a garlic-based dish. These were clearly done on purpose.

So, what does it say that Hong Lu's dish is actually two different dishes? That he's the only one whose dish is two different dishes? And it's not like the two are in some way inherently connected, since they're of completely different cuisines. Japchae is a Korean dish, not Chinese like the Mandarin rolls.

And just in case you weren't convinced that Hong Lu's choice of dishes is purposeful - another name for Mandarin rolls is flower buns, and one of the special occasions japchae is commonly served for is weddings. If you had read through the Daiyuisms section and somehow have no idea what the significance of that is, I don't know what to tell you.

The Daiyu-Baoyu Theory (finally)

So. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could still be Daiyu despite being revealed as Baoyu. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could be a Two in One deal, or that at the very least there's something more complex going on with his identity. But let's discuss the theory itself, how it would recontextualize certain things, and why I think it's an extremely fitting an thematically resonant direction for Hong Lu's Canto to go in.

The Theory

Here's what I speculate is going on.

Daiyu, just like in DOTRC, is someone who was taken in into the Jia Household rather than born in it, and who strongly connected with Baoyu upon meeting him. The two would end up forming a bond strong enough that they would be willing to die for one another (or, if they're in particularly argumentative moods, to kill themselves just to force the other to have to live a long life grieving over them - this is an actual argument they have in DOTRC and I pray to god this is adapted into Limbus because it's too fucking funny).

At some point, Baoyu either dies or is brought to near death, likely through the same circumstances as in DOTRC - being beaten by his Father. To save him, his memories and consciousness would be transferred to his eye, a process not dissimilar to the one Xichun brings up in Canto 7, and implanted into Daiyu's body, causing them to become a vessel for Baoyu. This would be how Hong Lu as he is now is created.

All of the above is the main basis for this theory. Everything else that I might speculate about, such as the exact nature of the two's relationship, Daiyu's more exact background and personality, how their pre-reincarnation lives could be adapted - all of those are things that are purely speculative and ones that I don't really expect to be actually fulfilled. The only bits that I am sure are likely to be true is what I laid out above.

So... what does it all mean for the future? I'm glad you asked!

The Recontextualization

Here's a collection of just a couple of things that Hong Lu has said or is depicted as that would be heavily recontextualized if this theory ends up being true.

Hong Lu surviving despite claiming he didn't fight back when his siblings first tried to kill him: With the context that he used to be two seperate people, the answer to how he survived is made very simple. Baoyu is the one who wasn't fighting back. Daiyu, however, could have still protected him in turn.

The red ribbon on Hong Lu's weapon: There is only one other Sinner who has a similar decoration on their weapon - Ryoshu, who also has a red ribbon on her sword, which could be easily connected to Yuzuki and her death. With the context of Hong Lu being Baoyu occupying Daiyu's body and thus effectively rendering their self non-existent, the red ribbon could be a parallel symbol - a symbol of Daiyu and their 'death'.

How Hong Lu treats his weapon in his base E.G.O: The way Hong Lu holds his weapon in the illustration is more like he's cradling another person. This could be a representation of how he feels about Daiyu's situation. Likewise, in the attack animation, he's not really attacking with the weapon itself, is he? He's simply using it to direct a ribbon (which in itself is missing in the illustration), the part that is actually the attack. If the weapon in the base E.G.O represents Daiyu, this could be a parallel to how Baoyu feels like he's merely directing Daiyu's body to attack, rather than being the one actually attacking.

The duality of Hong Lu IDs: There is a notable pattern among Hong Lu IDs, and that is the focus on his attitude to violence. When he's in a situation where he's obedient towards his Family, he's either uninterested in violence, bored of it, or otherwise given no other choice but to use it as a reprieve from boredom. However, when he's in a situation where he's disconnected from his Family or otherwise questioning the status quo, he's shown to not only be much more aggressive and violent, but to outright enjoy it. With the context of Hong Lu being composed of two people, this duality could represent each of his components - the obedient and violence-averse being more Baoyu-like, while the questioning and violence-favoring being more Daiyu-like.

So, there's a bunch of stuff that would be given new meaning under the premise of this theory being true. But now, what about the future? What would this theory mean for the themes and ending of Canto 8?

The Resolution

I believe this is how the Daiyu-Baoyu theory will affect Canto 8.

At some point, whether before or during the Canto, it will be revealed that Hong Lu is both Daiyu and Baoyu. There will be an attempt to seperate the two, perhaps to implant Baoyu into a more fitting, more Jia Family-approved Vessel. Perhaps because the 'arranged marriage' from DOTRC could be adapted into something more... let's say Fear and Hunger kind of marriage rather than traditional marriage.

This will leave Hong Lu to be returned to their state as Daiyu, who will be revealed to be a very different person to what the Sinners knew Hong Lu as. There is a non-zero chance that Daiyu will be unable to hear Dante or be revived by them due to the one who signed the contract being Baoyu, and so they could end up acting as an uncontrollable ally unit not unlike Xichun in Canto 7.

The climax would then be Daiyu and Baoyu reuniting and being unwilling to part with each other again, even for the sake of returning to being the fake persona that is Hong Lu, leading to a potential duo boss fight/distortion boss fight/duo distortion boss fight.

The ending would be the two of them deciding to embrace their new identity as Hong Lu and truly becoming one, discarding their pasts and the selves that had been forced on them by the Jia Family. This ending would have a twofold meaning regarding how it connects to the DOTRC adaptation.

One - it would be a direct parallel to the ending of DOTRC where Baoyu leaves to become a monk. By becoming Hong Lu and discaring his previous identities, he'd be leaving behind the earthly attachments inherent to being Baoyu and Daiyu and become spiritually whole.

Two - it would be a reflection of the major theme of DOTRC, that being "Truth becomes fiction when the fiction's true. Real becomes not-real when the unreal's real." Hong Lu, as a person, is a 'fake' persona used by the 'real' Baoyu and Daiyu. However, by discarding those two identities and deciding to just be Hong Lu, the fiction of his existence becomes the truth, while his former real selves become not real.

Conclusion?

I could honestly just keep going with this post, but I think I'm going to stop myself here before I'm forced to find out what tumblr's character limit on posts is. Believe me, I was trying to be brief, and still this post is. This fucking long.

I hope this explains why this theory has been the subject of my brainrot for the past however long, and why I feel like it's surprisingly plausible despite being as deranged as it is.

Godspeed and godbless, I have classes tomorrow and I'm spending my time on this.

[persephone411]

Under the skin (JT x Reader)

Summary: you get your first tattoo from a very attractive tattoo artist

You took a deep breath before you opened the door to Teller Morrow. This was it. You we’re actually going to get your first tattoo. An exited giggle escaped you. During the whole time between the making of the appointment till today you had expected of you to drop out and cancel. But now you were here. With slightly shaking legs you enter the tattoo studio. It was kept in the industrial style with a dark wood floor and exposed brick walls. Dozens of sketches and pictures of finished tattoos cover the walls. A black leather couch was to your left.

“Hey. I’m Gemma. how can I help you?” A brown haired woman behind counter asked you with a polite smile.

“Uhm hi. I am here for my appointment. It’s at half past one” you nearly stammer. The woman nods and checks her computer.

“Yeah, you send your design in a mail, your first tattoo right ?”

“Yes, how do you know?” You asked surprised but Gemma only laughed

“Sweetheart, only first time clients are so nervous, plus you also wrote it in the mail”

“Oh yeah right” you say while laughing akwardly.

“Hey, everything is fine. What will happen now is that I’ll print out the design you send a few times in a few sizes and you can see which one you like the best ok?”

“Yes, thank you. I guess I’m just excited ” you smile while the printer works.

“And that’s totally normal. A tattoo is a big thing, but I assure you after you get your first, you will get more. It’s always like that”

Gemma says while cutting out the design.

“Alright, I printed out three different sizes. You can always say If I should print out more. The placement was the hip ?”

“Yes” you answer and carefully take the smallest of the pieces. Quickly you noticed that the moment you held it in your hand, you fell even more in love with the design and the idea of having it as a tattoo. After a bit you chose the middle size. Not too big, not too small.

“Alright perfect. It’s a really beautiful design. I’m sure it will look amazing on you sweetheart” Gemma says with a motherly smile.

You smiled and she nodded at the leather couch

“How about you take a seat. I’ll bring you some water, hydration is important. My son should be done in a few minutes”

“Your son?” You ask interested and Gemma nods

“Yes, it’s a family business. Here”

She gave you a glass of water, then sat down next to you.

The next minutes you spend taking. You told her the story behind your tattoo idea and she shared her tattoo stories plus the history of the studio. Just as you were about to compliment one of her tattoos on her arm, someone new stepped into the room.

“Alright, We are done”

You turned your head towards the new voice and your eyes widened.

Fuck he was gorgeous

Long blond hair, blue eyes and a blonde beard. He wore white trainers, baggy jeans and a white oversize T shirt. Tattoos were covering his arms. You were so struck that you didn’t even notice the other man, probably his previous client standing next to him

“Ah, perfect, your next customer is already here”

Gemma stood up and you followed.

“This is my son, he will be doing your tattoo” she introduced him and he shook your hand

“Hey, I’m Jax” he said with a mischievous wink.

You introduced yourself and Jax smirked

“Alright, then follow me, you got your design?”

“Yes” you showed him the piece of paper.

Shortly before Jax guided you into the separate room, Gemma called him back

“Be gentle with her, it’s her first time”

Jax nods understandingly

“I’m always gentle at the first time” he said and you blushed at the innuendo.

Then he walks to you into the tattoo room.

“Alright darling, first time eh?” While he spoke he started to stretch himself.

“Excuse me. I’ve worked on that one piece for hours now you can probably imagine what my back feels like after being in one position for so long“

He groaned and a hot shiver rand down your spine.

“No I get it. Don’t worry” you assure him quickly.

He nods but then gets serious.

“Alright princess, where should the tattoo go?” While he spoke his gaze slowly wandered over your body and another shudder went through you. Why did he have to be so attractive?

“I thought about the left hip bone” you tell him and he nods.

“It’s a good spot. Sexy”

You smiled and Jax walked over to his desk to prepare the stencil.

“So, how long have you been doing this?” You ask him

“Now around 14 years i think. I started by doing my first stick and poke on my own leg. I was just a rebellious teen. You know the drill. Then I started to design my own stuff out of boredom. I grew up with this whole tattoo culture. I mean you’ve seen my mom’s tattoos and everything. So when I was 20 I leaned it professionally and we opened up the shop”

While he talked you listened attentively. You loved the way he talked. While staring at his back you notice a few darker spots under the white of the shirt.

“Do you have a back tattoo?” You asked curiously and he nodded.

“Yeah, got it when I was done with the training. It took multiple sessions, still remember the pain. I’ll show it to you once I am done with your stencil”.

He worked for a minute or so in comfortable silence, then he got up.

“This is the stencil, and this is my back piece”

Your eyes widened as he started to strip out of his shirt.

“Wow, that is impressive” you said as you saw the huge sons of anarchy tattoo on his back.

“Yeah, it also hurt as hell go get it. The spine was the worst. You can touch it if you want to. No need to be shy”

He said.

Hesitantly you reached out to touch the ink on his back, tracing the letters.

“That’s insane” you murmur and quickly pull back as a shudder goes through Jax

“It’s fine. Just a bit sensitive on the back”

He explained while turning around to face you. Again your eyes widened. This time because of his naked torso. It was perfection. Although you’ve never seen an actual naked Greek god, you were sure that they looked like Jax Teller.

“You like what you see?“

Jax chuckled as you blushed and started to stammer while avoiding his gaze.

,,It’s fine. I’m just teasing” He said with a playful wink. You nodded and watched as he grabbed his shirt. Quickly he pulled it over his head, then he grabbed the stencil for your tattoo.

“So, where should it go?” He asked and you pulled your shirt up and your pants down slightly to show him the spot you chose. Just on the hipbone. Perfectly hidden from everyone except for the people who you wanted to see it. Jax nods, then without a warning gets down on his knees in front of you. Carefully he presses the stencil against your skin, holding it for a bit and then peeling it off.

“Is this ok? There is a mirror. If it is too high, too low or anything, just tell me. I can do it again”

You nod and walk over to the huge mirror. Eying the blue mark on your left hip. Behind you Jax was still on his knees, watching you.

“Maybe a bit higher” you said and he nods, getting up to get some wet wipes.

Carefully he wiped the blue ink off the stencil off your skin.

Goosebumps form on your body as you feel his breath on your naked skin, tickling you slightly. Jax places the stencil again, this time slightly higher. You watch as he bit his lip in concentration.

“How about now?” He asked and you walk back to the mirror.

“Can you do it a bit more right?” You asked hesitantly.

“Sure” again he wiped off the old stencil and placed it a bit more right. You checked it out again and nod with a happy smile.

“Perfect”

“That’s what I want to hear. You can then lay down on the table and I’ll prepare everything” Jax instructed you.

You did as he told you and watched as he prepared the ink and the tattoo machine. Then he grabbed a black hair tie and pulled his hair into a small bun.

Fuck he was even more attractive now.

With his stool he rolled over to you and watched as you exposed your hip area again.

“I’ll start now and if anything feels wrong, You tell me. We can pause it anytime ok?”

He told you, his voice serious.

You nod and laid down comfortably, focusing on your breath.

Again you couldn’t really belive it, you were actually getting a tattoo !

You felt his gloved Hand on your hip, then he started. It was less painful than you thought it would be. Mostly just a bit of a tickle with a slight burn from time to time.

“How are you doing?”

He asked after a bit, his hand absentmindedly caressing your skin

“Good so far, it’s not as bad as I thought It would be” you murmur while staring at the ceiling.

“Good. If anything happens, tell me”

You nod and he started again.

It was a nearly relaxing process. The buzzing sound of the machine, the tickling on your hip and the quiet rock music in the background. But your favorite feeling by far was his hand on your skin. Although he wore a glove you could feel his warmth, and sometimes his cool breath.

“You mentioned that your first tattoo was a stick and poke on your leg?” You asked after a bit and he hummed.

“Yes, I was 16 and my best friend and me thought it was a cool idea. I tried to do the Harley Davidson logo. But it looked rather bad. Couldn’t get one line straight”

He chuckled and shook his head. You watched him silently. A strand of blonde hair had fallen out his bun ad he bit his lower lip in concentration. As he reached a new spot you nearly flinched. It was much more painful than the rest.

“Shh. It’s alright. We’re over the hip bone now. The skin is thinner” Jax explained and stopped for a bit

“And here I was, nearly falling asleep” you joked. He chuckled and pushed the strand out of his face

“Tell me when I can start again. Did you eat or drink before coming here?”

“Yeah, I had breakfast” you answered. As you two talked you couldn’t help but love how calm and relaxed everything was. Jax really made sure that you were feeling comfortable and for a bit you wondered how it would be to be friends with him, or maybe even to be more. Just as you dreamt about snuggling in his arms on a couch in front of a TV, Jax spoke again.

“Is everything alright ? You seem a bit lost in your head” his blue eyes watched you attentively.

“Yeah, you can start again” you nod towards the tattoo machine in his hand.

He nodded and continued to tattoo you.

“We’re now halfway done” he informed you after a bit.

“What are some of the craziest tattoos you’ve ever done?” You asked.

He thought for a moment then answered: ”I think I have a few specials. Sentimental, funny or plain stupid. But no bad tattoos. I don’t do bad tattoos”

You giggled at his cocky tone.

“Someone’s confident”

He laughed and you nearly melted. It was nearly criminal for someone to be that attractive.

“So? What tattoos did you do?”

“Hmm let’s see. I did my first real one on my best friend, that was quite special. Once time I tattooed a couple which was married for nearly 70 years. That was probably the one time where couple tattoos aren’t stupid. I have lots of sentimental tattoos, like pets who died or the names of children. In regard to funny tattoos… A girl once wanted me to tattoo her vagina. She made sure to ask for me specifically“

“And ? Did you do it?” You asked curiously but Jax only smirked

“What do you think?”

Your eyes widened and he chuckled.

The next minutes was a comfortable silence between you two. Although you had so many questions for him (like what is the favourite tattoo you ever did? Are you single? Can we get married ?) you didn’t say anything. After a bit he broke the silence.

“I’m nearly done sweetheart”

You bit your lip in disappointment. You didn’t want him to be done. To be honest, you would love to fall asleep right here, with his big warm hands on your skin and the quiet buzzing of the machine.

“Do you have a website or a portfolio?” You ask Jax, curious about his work. His own work.

“Yeah. I have a folder and also a instagram page If you are interested. Oh and you can also DM me anytime if you think about getting a touch up or other tattoo related stuff”

“Yeah, that would be great” you smiled, already excited to stalk his social media.

The tattoo machine stopped and you sat up slowly.

“Careful, you could feel a bit dizzy from lying down for so long“ Jax gently grabbed your arm and you blinked a few times.

“I think I’m good. Thank you” you smiled and slid off the tattoo table. Jax was still holding you as you walked over to the big mirror to inspect your tattoo. It looked even more perfect than you expected it to be. The shading was perfect.

“Wow” you say quietly.

“You like it?” Jax was towering behind you, a smile on his face.

“Yeah, it’s absolutely amazing. I love it. Thank you so much”

“I’m glad to hear it” you shivered at the slight purr in his voice.

The next minutes Jax put the second skin onto your fresh tattoo and explained the aftercare to you. Like mesmerised you listened to his voice, barely acknowledging what he said.

“Good. I think we’re done. It was an honor to be your first time and I hope I’ll get to tattoo you again”

Jax smiled and loosely wrapped an arm around you while he led you out of the room.

“And? How did it went?” Gemma asked as soon as you entered the main room of the studio.

“It went well and the tattoo truly looks amazing” you said while beaming. Jax chuckled, visibly proud of himself. You showed Gemma the tattoo and she nodded.

“Good work there son. I hope you treated her like a lady”

“I did. Don’t worry”

The payment process was quick and simple and you thanked Jax again.

“No problem sweetheart. It was a pleasure and hey, maybe we’ll see each again”

You smiled and waved him and Gemma Goodbye.

On your way to the car you opened instagram and found the sons of Anarchy account as well as Jax personal account. The moment you saw the first of his own tattoo designs (and a shirtless picture) you knew you would come back.

[xxepherr]

.ೃ࿐ELECTION DAY | HP

summary — in which austin accidentally lets it slip that hasan’s faceless (yet public) girlfriend is the woman they’re currently watching analyse the maps on CNN. 

pairings — hasan piker x politicalcorrespondent!girlfriend!reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 

note — i personally would have “6’4 jacked boyfriend” as his contact name so that whenever weird men try to hit on me they see that but thats just me (and this reader insert ofc) (also this is nothing special just me rambling tbh — what’s to say this political!reader doesn’t become a mini series)

THE DAY WAS HERE. election day. not only was it the day your boyfriend had spent hours upon hours preparing for for weeks, but you, too. you were a political journalist and correspondent currently working the map for CNN during the weeks in the lead up to the election. 

it was a big day for you. four years ago you were streaming your own map coverage to fifteen thousand people on twitch, accessing your sources across multiple states to provide statements on what was going on nationwide. being asked a couple months ago to run the maps in front of millions was certainly a step up, but it gave you control to speak objectively without bias unlike most of the other news anchors and correspondents that were pushing right-wing sentiment over any other coverage. 

you hadn’t seen hasan in a few weeks now unless you counted facetimes and tuning into his streams. you’d get texts while he was streaming and the occasional kaya video ( because apparently she’d been whining with your leave ). it wasn’t the same, but you were both incredibly career-driven people, so being hours apart by plane wasn’t as daunting as it probably should’ve been.

“you’re gonna be late to stream,” you laughed softly, fiddling with the cap of the bottle of water someone had gotten you. endless tabs were open on your laptop in front of you, following aspects of every state because there was still hours to go before the polls closed, so you were only needed in short segments for now to go over 2020 and 2016 county votes in particular states at a time. 

“you’re right,” hasan’s voice was slightly staticky through the phone. “i might have to focus on kornacki or fox news so that i don’t spend too long staring at you.”

“aw,” you let go of your phone, holding it between your ear and shoulder to screw the cap back on the bottle. one of the directors caught your attention across the room, holding up his hand to say that she had five minutes before they were back on air again. “i’m back on in a few . . . i’ll have your stream open on my laptop, though!”

“good luck today,” hasan said softly as he started his stream, leaving it on his opening scene while his mic was muted. people were already flooding in by the thousands. “i’ll talk to you in, what, twelve hours? i love you.”

“twelve hours,” you hummed in agreement, “i love you more,” you sighed softly, noticing that the twitch tab was reloading to take her to his ‘starting soon’ overlay. “good luck.” you ended the phone call first, quickly putting it back on do not disturb and placing it over on the table that was full of analytical notes. the board that now had the map of the united states of america was lit up again, an empty canvas waiting for you to load up the old votes to load up projected blue and red areas.

TOO MANY HOURS TO count and three hundred thousand viewers into the election, hasan was still going strong. despite the pull to watching CNN more than he probably should, he managed to force himself to switch between fox news to laugh at republican propaganda and msnbc. though, he would one hundred percent lying if he said he didn’t have CNN up on his second monitor. 

things were steadily climbing, and josh ( ettingermentum ) was back after mike from PA left the call. josh, who had been raging on ( no seriously, no one had really heard him be that loud all day ) about how the democrats fucked up was finally broken up when austin joined the call, the atmosphere shifting.

christmas sign in full view and a cold slab of a slice of pizza being shoved into his mouth, austin’s discussion on if he was being sent to prison if the republicans dominated was dwindled until josh left the call to analyse the polls for twitter. 

“ugh, can we watch something else?” austin asked, barely swallowing his mouthful of pizza first. “all i’ve done is watch fox today.”

“yeah,” hasan chucked humourlessly, clicking around mindlessly between tabs as he tried to find msnbc’s coverage. because the tabs were so small thanks to the fifty million twitter tabs he had open, he almost groaned in frustration when he accidentally clicked on the CNN tab.

 the tab where you were conveniently fiddling with the data of state of pennsylvania. it was already a dangerous game having you on screen when the chat knew what the silhouettes of you looked like — photos from behind of you walking with hasan, photos of your eyes after he tried to do your makeup, mirror fit checks with your face covered by the phone . . . chat only needed to be railroaded enough to work it out. 

just as he was about to switch tabs again, austin opened his mouth. “oh, man, i miss her,” there was a shift in his tone, more than just him speaking without thinking. familiarity shone through. from the way he casually uttered your nickname to the sigh, it was probably worse than railroading. it was the train forgetting to slam the brakes on worthy. 

hasan wisely kept his mouth shut as he switched to fox news — anything was better than CNN currently — and his eyes slowly zeroed in on the chat. question marks upon question marks until it eventually morphed into ‘holy shit she looks familiar’ and ‘girlfriend reveal????’ to ‘omg face reveal’ and his breathing faltered. 

someone switched the chat to emote only mode in the few moments he was silent for, austin thankfully following suit. glancing at his second monitor, you were still doing your thing, this time discussing the iowa flip from blue to red, completely oblivious. 

“austin,” hasan finally said, tone flat. there was no use making a big fuss out of denying it — that would just make it more obvious. 

austin chuckled nervously, awkwardly. “uh . . . sorry, hasan. i didn’t think about it . . . awkward.”

“clearly,” he grumbled, digging his fingers into his hair for a moment as he thought. the election was put on hold in his mind for a moment as he switched the screen to the full facecam. he wasn’t going to directly deny or confirm anything, so instead he said, “take what you will from what austin said. in saying that, don’t go harass her, clearly she was faceless for a reason. anyway,” hasan cleared his throat, “moving on, back to the election . . .” and he swiftly moved on like nothing ever happened ( while the mods were timing out anyone who asked about it for an entire week ).

“PENNSYLVANIA AND NEVADA ARE expected to be the closest as of currently,” you gestured to the map that demonstrated the slight wave from the blue shift. “we’re looking at about half a percent, but election night is full of surprises so . . . we’ll continue to keep an eye on that for now.” the directors in the back signalled that the camera was no longer live, and you nodded and took a deep breath. the polls weren’t looking as good as everyone had expected it would look for the democrats.

finally off the air for a much needed break, you wandered back over to your little table off to the side. notes were piling up, but upon noticing the spam of notifications flashing across your phone. weird, you thought, your notifications usually not showing up unless it came from verified accounts across all social media platforms . . . until you noticed that it was coming from your private instagram and twitter account. super weird. 

and then the text from hasan. 

6’4 SUPER JACKED BOYFRIEND: uhhh so austin accidentally told 300k people we’re dating 

6’4 SUPER JACKED BOYFRIEND: call me when ur done? so sorry

oh. on one hand the first part was exciting. three hundred thousand? it was a new viewership record for him. on the other? that means a shit ton of people knew the secret you guys had spent almost two years safeguarding. you’d wanted to keep your face out of everything because you had your own career and didn’t want his to intertwine with it. a healthy work-life balance was keeping that shit separate, but it was only really time until people found out anyway. it wasn’t the best kept secret, anyway. 

still, you weren’t mad. you sent off a quick text saying ‘it’s alr’ with a smiley face emoji and shut your phone off completely, shoving it off to the side and turning your laptop back on. you’d be back in california tomorrow, anyway, it could be dealt with then.

THE AIRPORT WASN’T AS secretive anymore. tired after only getting a couple hours of sleep because you got back to your hotel at some god awful hour this morning, it was an instant relief to see hasan waiting for you, dresses comfortably to not draw too much attention to himself — which was difficult because he was fucking huge.

either way, you had no energy to do anything but collapse into his waiting arms, letting him engulf you until you were suffocating. “this is nice,” you mumbled. “sorry i didn’t call, was so tired.”

“you’re fine,” he promised, pulling you back slightly to look at him. “i missed you,” he slipped his hand into yours, and he took your suitcase with his other hand. it was nice to be able to publicly be in his presence without worrying, so much so that you leant into his arm, tiredness dragging your feet.

“missed you more,” you said honestly, but there was more on your mind than just small talk. “where’s austin? motherfucker’s been blowing up my phone.”

hasan chuckled, “if i hear him apologise one more time i’m gonna commit a hate crime.” he then shook his head, “he wanted to stay at the house but i told him to come ‘round tomorrow . . . want you to myself first.”

you knew what that was code for, so you shook your head with a silent laugh. “let me sleep first, god.”

and sleep you did. the house was silent thankfully so you were content tucked up in hasan’s arms, stealing him from clocking in with his twitch chat for ten hours in a fit of selfishness that you were entitled too.

“austin might’ve saved our relationship,” you teased, trailing your fingers up his arm that was tightly wrapped around you, both on the verge of falling into dreamland. “now we can go out on proper dates again.”

“you can tell him yourself,” hasan’s arms tightened around her a little bit more, so full of warmth that the blanket was starting to render useless. “when he knocks our door down tomorrow morning.”

“aw, come on,” you tapped his arm a little harder, fighting the urge to gnaw on his forearm. “you love him.”

“i love you, he’s just my side piece,” he kissed the side of your neck tenderly, “night, baby.”

“g’night,” you mumbled back with a soft smile, the world drifting away for just that little bit longer until tomorrow rolled around. you could deal with your very public relationship then.

[tellyouily]

you can hear it in the silence

dnf - tooth-rotting fluff - 886 words

aka. the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed :)

• • •

Lately, they’ve taken to sleeping in George’s room.

Which makes no sense, really, considering Dream’s bed is bigger, softer and the room itself closer to the main part of the house. Not to mention that his AC actually works like it’s supposed to and his curtains actually close all the way.

All of this, and they have still ended up under George’s covers every night for the last couple of weeks.

Like with most things these days, they can blame it on work.

George’s office is where most of the coding happens, because he is the one doing most of the coding, and it is conveniently located right next to his bedroom. So when Dream comes in at night, so tired he could fall asleep standing up, to pull George with him to bed, then well, it’s whatever bed is closest.

Not that Dream minds. He likes George’s room, even if it’s bare and boring. He also likes George, and sleeping next to him, and maybe those two facts outweigh everything else. Just maybe.

George who is all soft limbs and no sharp edges, and smells like home and is somehow always warmer than Dream is.

The truth is that he is the only person Dream can share a bed with and actually sleep better because of it. Whose breathing and tossing and turning lulls him to sleep rather than annoy him.

So yeah, Dream is fine with anywhere, any bed, so long as it’s the two of them in it together.

It is an early morning in the third week that the room thing becomes an issue.

The sound of birds chirping is usually pleasant… except when it’s the sound that wakes you up. Before sunrise. Slowly, Dream gets pulled from the comfortable depths of sleep, his face buried halfway in George’s hair.

Some quick deduction tells him that the birds are most likely sitting in the tree right outside of the window, and that there is nothing he can do to fix it. Great.

George stirs in his arms. “Can they shut up?” He mumbles.

A smile makes its way onto Dream’s lips, despite his weariness.

“No,” he answers helpfully.

Somehow, each little tweet seems to be getting louder, more incessant, and Dream knows they need to move to a different room. They have slept a handful of hours at most.

“My room?” He offers, pressing a kiss to George’s shoulder. “Should be more quiet.”

George groans, rolling over and burrowing his face in the crook of Dream’s neck. It makes his skin buzz gently when George says, “Too far.”

It’s really not far at all but he decides not to go down that road now. They can talk technicalities about  the distances in this house when the day starts for real, not when the need for sleep is weighing so heavily on them both. On George especially, apparently.

Dream noses at his hair. “My office then. It’s closer.”

No response, but he feels George’s hand slide up his chest over his t-shirt.

“Come on, baby,” Dream coaxes, taking the hand and lifting it off of him as he starts to sit up.

George groans, but starts to do the same. At about half the pace. Dream smiles at him fondly.

You would think he was being forced to do the most laborious task on planet earth with how much effort it seems to take him to move from lying down in the comfy bed to standing upright on the floor. Dream can’t really blame him, though; it felt a little bit like being ripped from a nice dream for him, too.

“Alright, I love you, let’s go,” he says, heading for the door and pulling George along behind him by the hand. He looks tousled in the best way, all sleepy and annoyed.

The hallway and the stairs are mostly dark, still. The light is that weird shade of grayish blue, and he wonders fleetingly if George sees it the same way.

Downstairs, George lets out a small scoff. “Why’d you say I love you?” He asks, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. “So dumb.”

Dream smiles, pushing at his office door. “‘Cause I love you.”

George scoffs again, but he doesn’t say anything else, which says enough in itself. Inside, it’s pitch black, and quiet. Completely quiet.

He lets go of George’s hand and puts a hand on his back instead, guiding him onto the bed before climbing in after him. He has never been more grateful that he keeps this bed fully made.

They settle down in the exact same position from before, with Dream closest to the wall and George in his arms, pressed as close as he can get. For a few moments it’s just their breathing and their heartbeats slowing in the silence.

“Better?” Dream asks, his voice a murmur.

George hums in agreement. Then, just a softly, “Love you.”

Dream smiles into the darkness, closing his eyes. He listens to George’s breaths evening out, the soft sounds of skin against fabric every time they shift in the sheets they’re sharing. Holding him close like this, just existing in the boyish and familiar smell of his shampoo and day-old aftershave, Dream feels like he is already dreaming.

Sleep washes over him like a ray of sunlight.

[legomonkiefics]

Hello! I have had this idea/request in my lil monkie brain for a fic

I have seen LOTS of your other Fics and you're really good at writing!

So, I thought ''why not give this idea to a professional?''

AHEM, the idea:

Sun Wukong x fem reader

The reader finally convinced Wukong to go roller skating with her

*coughs* like a roller-skating date *coughs*

I imagine that Wukong can't skate so Y/N / the reader, tries to teach him and they have a wholesome moment or sum 

btw I hope you're having a wonderful day/night! <3

🧡👑Skates and Mis-skates — Sun Wukong x Fem Reader Drabble👑🧡

Genres: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨👑୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

When you had offered up the chance to hang out, of course the sunny monkey king took up your offer. Even if he was retired, getting pulled into MK's hero work did tire him out a bit. He brushed aside any comments you'd made about how much he sleeps all day when he mentioned as such and agreed to meet as soon as possible. The sun was setting a bit, but the rolling rink still had a good few hours before closing. Wukong took in a breath, hood sitting fully on his head to cover himself as he walked in.

It was waaayy darker inside than he was expecting. The lights were very dim compared to the sunny day, and the Sage found himself blinking a few times just to have his sight adjust. Right as he got his vision back, you were already beaming next to him. "Jeez!" Wukong began, jolting a little "Nice job, peach. Sure you aren't taking stealth lessons?" he joked. You chuckled as you gently linked your arm with his "You stay in your dojo all day watching Monkey Cop films, you should be used to this". "Hey, that special director's cut edition was worth it" Wukong playfully argued. He was exaggerating just a hint. He could recognize your scent anywhere, and his body was naturally attuned to pick up any energy nearby. But he loved seeing the small self-satisfied smile on your face when you thought you'd taken him off guard, so he let you have this one.

You lead him over to the desk, sliding up money for the tired clerk to accept. Soon enough you were guiding Wukong to take a seat at a nearby table, handing him a pair of orange and blue skates with yellow star patterns. Wukong looked over them, absentmindedly spinning one of the red wheels with his finger. "You sure this is safe? I mean these things have like maybe four wheels holding them together" he asked aloud. "Is the great sun warrior scared of a roller skate?" You asked, the teasing lilt in your tone not escaping him. He gave a little scoff as he slid on his pair. "I'm just trying to look out for you! Can't have my star companion breaking their tailbone" he replied. You stood, shuffling across the faded-patterned carpet to stand in front of him "Well thank you, but I think I can handle a roller rink" you said playfully. Wukong stood up, flailing his arms a little as he tried to gain his footing. Once he was certain he wasn't gonna fall over, he gave you a thumbs up with a confident smile. You huffed a little laugh, beginning to walk to the rink.

Wukong placed down a confident step, only to almost immediately fall flat on his tail. He gripped the nearest wall, claws digging in as he tried to right himself. His feet kept slipping underneath him, and no matter how much he turned, he couldn't seem to land. He turned over his shoulder, seeing how you had already zoomed past him. Seeing you glide so effortlessly was... captivating, in its own way. You seemed so in control, so free and fluid among the sea of attendees. He watched as you slid in between groups, weaving and spinning like a soaring bird. His eyes glistened in the oscillating lights with awe and admiration as you did a little spin.

Wukong shook his head a little, breaking himself out of his trance. He looked back to his own skates, making a small noise of frustration. With his confidence doubled, he firmly tried to get his stance back once more. After a particularly harsh twist, he managed to accidentally push himself off of the wall. He went flying back, scrambling in air the whole time as skaters quickly dove out of the way of the hurtling hooded guy. It was all at once when something stopped him, the abrupt end of momentum disorienting Wukong for a moment. Once his head was no longer spinning, he was positioned back upright by helpful hands. He looked down, noticing the palms resting on his shoulders, looking up to see you very desperately holding back laughter.

Wukong's face shifted into a pout, and he gently swatted your hands off of him. "Are you sure you're okay?" You asked through your barely concealed snickers. Wukong huffed as he stood on shaky legs. "Uh, yeah! I was just doing one of those tricks you guys are always doing online" he lied. "Mhm. And which one was that?" You asked knowingly. Wukong stammered for a bit "It's- uh- pssh, obviously- ....the flying monkey?". You couldn't hold back that time, a snort and a laugh leaving you at his attempt to cover his blunder "Right, I'm sure everyone is dying to do that". "Give me a break, it's my first time" Wukong mumbled, arms crossed over his chest. Your laughter calmed to a soft chuckle, wrapping an arm around his waist "You could've just said so. Here, I'll guide you through it".

Wukong's sour expression faded, replaced with mild surprise "Alright, alright, fine. But don't get too upset if I end up a total master" he said, unable to hide his grin. "Right, and invent another move" You teased. Before Wukong could make a retort, you began gently and slowly leading him to a more empty part of the rink. He kept a tight hold on your sleeve, arm around your hip to stay as close as possible. "You got it, you're doing great" You reassured, leading him into a small turn. Wukong glanced up at your face, seeing your eyes watching his with amused care. Wukong gave a slightly crooked smile back, watching as you slowly moved him in front of you, your hands still intertwined.

"Not so bad, huh?" You asked, and Wukong nodded "Not the worst. I'm just glad I'm in the hands of a pro". You smiled a little wider, gently turning with him to guide him into a spin. He followed your movements with ease, but not without tripping a little at the end of the last rotation. He quickly clung tightly to you as he got his bearings. You wrapped your arms around him, patting his back. "There, there, your highness. How about a break? I can buy us some snacks". Wukong pulled back from you a bit "Human food? Hell yeah! Make sure you get the big drinks, all this learning is making me parched". You nodded, guiding him to a wall for safety, giving a reassuring pat to his shoulder. "I'll call you over when it gets here" You said, turning and skating effortlessly out of the rink.

Wukong kept watch, seeing you gently put aside your skates and put back on your normal shoes for a second to go and talk to the vendor. He leaned against the rink wall, sighing a little as he felt his cheeks tinge with warmth. Having you so close, supporting him like that, always made his heart feel so warm. He couldn't help but keep a soft smile on his face as he saw you waiting around for the food. He'd trip a thousand times if it meant you'd catch him after every single one.

[wonsdoll]

A STONER’S GUIDE TO GET THE GIRL › LHS

TIP 8: totally ditch the boys for her

you walk up to the table heeseung was sitting at, he was accompanied by beomgyu and sunghoon. your cheeks flashed shades of pink from embarrassment, hoping you didn’t ruin their day. quickly, the boys eyes gazed on your body, not looking away once. their eyes quickly met with yours.

“hey y/n what’re you doing out here on this nice day?” beomgyu asks, taking a bite of his chocolate chip cookie.

“oh umm.. me and yunjin were about to go shopping, we just wanted some coffee..” you looked at them, hoping to end the conversation quick.

yunjin leans in close to whisper. “i know you want some alone time, i got you.” she pulls back, you turn around and mouth “no”, but you know your best friend can’t take no for an answer.

“hey hoon and gyu.. can you come help me with my car? i need help.” yunjin asks, hoping the two boys would quickly catch up on her signal. the two boys got up from the table “be back hee.” they said, walking behind yunjin ask they leave the cafe.

heeseung leaned back against the chair, glancing at you as you sit in sunghoon’s chair. “you know.. it’s weird how different i feel nowadays.” he looks at you, a soft vulnerable look in his eyes. “ever since i quit, things have been very different.”

you felt your heart melt, remembering the way he confessed the reason as to why he was quitting in the first place. “that’s really great, heeseung.” you smiled, your smile fading out a little. “it’s not an easy thing.. making that choice.”

heeseung smiled shyly, his fingers tracing around the rim of his hot latte cup. “yeah it’s definitely not easy..but uh..” he hesitated for a moment, debating whether he should continue. “i guess i just kept thinking about you.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his words. “well, for the record, i think you’re doing amazing so far.” you reach for his hand, gently squeezing it.

you spent hours talking to heeseung, his eyes never left yours. his gaze of love only grew stronger every time you laughed, everytime your arms touched or the space between you only minimized. soon enough, heeseung was close to you, almost as close as that one night back at his place.

“i missed this.. being with you, and being so close to you.” you confessed, a streak of pink hitting your cheeks as you realized what you had said.

“i miss you too, princess.” heeseung quickly responded, not realizing what he had just said. “i mean..y/n.”

silence quickly grew between you and heeseung, leaving you both staring at each other as the clock ticked slower than it originally was. it was starting to get dark out, soon night took over the once bright blue sky.

“do you wanna go back to my place?” heeseung asks, zero hesitation in his voice.

“yes.” you quickly responded, without even thinking. you heart raced as you had no clue what may happen tonight.

mlist prev next

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[fandomfluffandfuck]

S...... you asked for this. Literally.

But also I am asking you for this - please pretty please can you Evanstan-ify Chris saying a lot of good thing happened to him at age 24 for us??? 🙏🏻🙏🏻 Really intrigued by this and I'd love to find out what thoughts your brilliant mind is thinking about this scenario... Sending lots of love and hugs to you! 💗💗

Literally, I did ask for it, and I asked because...

gif by @/forassgard

Look at this fucking guy

His pretty, pretty princess lashes, his lips, and that wistful look on his face...

How could I not spend hours thinking about him? 😮‍💨😮‍💨

I'm thinking about how when Chris was 24, it would've been 2005, and so he hadn't met Seb yet by that point, but all roads lead to Sebastian, so, when he does meet Sebastian and they've been together for a while, somehow this interview clip comes up.

I don't have a set idea of how it surfaces--maybe someone (probably Mackie, lmao, trolling him because it's fun and because he knows first hand how competitive Sebastian can be when you push his buttons) sends him the clip saying he should if 24 is still his favorite age or not, maybe Sebastian stumbles across it on his own on YouTube and gets curious, or maybe he's missing Chris and rewatching old clips of him when they're in different cities for different projects which Chris finds out about, asking him how he's doing and receiving nothing but a blush, and then Seb gives him lip back for how he looked in those days, handsome yes, but the fashion, Chris, the fashion is... something. Whatever the reason, yes, that clip.

That clip needs a modern explanation.

And Chris, for all his dark eyes, confident smirks, and cocksure manhandling of Sebastian when he's feeling frisky, when something is suddenly sprung on him, he can get quite shy. It's adorable for such a muscle-bound, virile guy if you ask Sebastian. It's too innocent, almost. The way just the right, perfectly-timed out-of-the-blue innuendo, abrupt wink, or slap on the ass, and he's blushing.

The soft embarrassment almost doesn't fit on his large, broad frame, yet it's there. It's there and it's fucking vivid--spread like hot, liquid butter melted into golden toast from one cheek over the bridge of his handsome nose to the other, shaded by his glasses and thick beard. He can't hide behind any of it, though, not his beard, his glasses, or the sweeping wings of his grown-out hair shading his forehead, curling around his ears.

God, Sebastian wants to plaster himself to Chris, tip to tail, he could swoon and press into him so hard right now.

Chris blushing and stuttering--stumbling over his words and his own limbs in the suddenness of Sebastian's filthiness--is almost always accompanied by a narrowing of his eyes and a tilt of his head.

Sebastian is nothing if not the sweetest menace.

So.

Before I get more distracted by more gifs of Seb looking so bratty, Sebastian brings the clip up to Chris, asking a seemingly innocent question that he knows has some undertone to it. He can see the dazed, satisfied look beneath Chris' put-on cool. He knows there's a story there, one he wouldn't tell, couldn't tell, and he intends to find out what, even if he has to pull it out of his man sputtered, pink-cheeked word by sputtered, pink-cheeked word.

Chris tumbles through his answer with his voice stuck in that low, rough register that Seb has become so fucking intimately familiar with, reacting to it like a dog hearing the word "dinner." He could drool. And speaking of drooling and mouths and appetites... Chris' plush lips just get redder and wetter until they're glistening and swollen from all the biting and licking he does as he retells the story. Sebastian doesn't think he knows he's doing it. If he does know, then he's a bastard, a fucking cocktease, but--

That look on his face?

Nah.

He's not teasing.

Really, he's caught up in a heated, sticky whirlwind in his mind, sweeping him off his feet and carrying him into the thick of the tempest deep inside his body. A core of pure want.

As he's thrown roughly about by the winds, feeling the pull of old eroticisms, sparks reignited, he doesn't spare a detail. It might take gentle, urging encouragement from Seb at first, verifying sincerely that he does want to know, and it's not making him jealous to know, quite the opposite--as he listens intently, hanging off the edge of every detail with his fingernails dug in, Seb finds that he has to involuntarily shift in his seat, half-shivering, letting his knees fall wide open as his blood starts to heat and thicken, redirecting to his knotted gut.

Seb thickly swallows the excess spit pooling in his mouth. Inhale, exhale; he has to remember how to breathe. He can't help but imagine every fucking word he manages to pull out from his lover's oh-so alluring mouth.

In the same way that Chris fidgets by sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and licking it lavishly, his eyes move and change; they flit back and forth like a flame pushed by a howling wind. He's staring between Sebastian's eyes--their gazes meeting and all but crackling with the intensity--and some middle distance that Seb can't see but knows holds all of Chris' visceral memories. Memories that wash over him in sticky, hot waves, lapping at his skin in phantom flames, pushing up against him as hot, humid summer breezes.

Chris' skin, normally pale, tints more and more pink the deeper he dives into his tale.

He usually talks with his hands, but as he goes on and on and on... he doesn't.

Rather than making gestures to add emphasis intentionally, he's obscenely absently rubbing his big, heavy palms up and down, up and down, up and down, the length of his muscular thighs. It almost looks like he's soothing himself against the onslaught of intensity; it almost looks like he's groping himself against the onslaught of the intensity. Either way, he can't help but touch.

Touch himself.

Every now and again, though, Chris suddenly realizes what he's doing, his hands creeping inappropriately high on his own body, and he shoves his hands back under his thighs, sitting on them. But. They just keep coming out to play the deeper into his story he gets. He can't help it.

Every new detail is more alluring than the last.

Sebastian hoards every piece of them, stowing them away like something gleaming and precious. They are. The way he's describing it, god, it is precious in the most perverse way--trusting her completely, feeling so vulnerable and exposed to her, all but on his knees at her mercy while certainly not literally, physically being on his knees, just emotionally, gutting, so gutting, his eyes rolling for it, his mouth gasping uncontrollably, no, moaning uncontrollably while the rest of his body shook, boneless and limp at the same time that he wanted to writhe, maybe he was writhing, squirming, fisting the sheets, arching his back to get more without stopping to think of if he should or not, fuck, whether or not he was squirming for it, he definitely was crying during it, his first time crying from the intensity of the physical sensations, he's cried during sex before for emotional, connecting reasons, he had never been so fucking turned on like that before that he couldn't help it, the tears just came out, falling, spilling over, running down his cheeks, smeared into the pillows, so fucking insane, so good it was shocking, nails digging crescents into his lean hips, embarrassing, but not, impossible almost, the way it felt, stretched, raw, full, too much, and, just, too much--swearing after the fact that he couldn't fuckin' have that all the time of he'd go crazy.

Too good.

Chris got pegged.

Chris Evans got fucking pegged in 2005 and it was too good.

Having all that spilled out in front of him in a beautiful, messy masterpiece, Sebastian honestly fucking wants to shove his hand into his pants right here and now. Fuck getting into his own pants, though, he could just sliiiide his hand down over the front of his pants and cum in his pants like an overexcited teenager, panting, whining, picturing his biggest crush on the backs of his eyelids in varying positions, all these possibilities, not really knowing, but wanting to know so fucking bad it hurts. He is so fucking turned on. He's a goddamn glowing neon sign, lit with bright, obvious red arousal.

Jesus Christ.

But, Chris keeps going and the hot-shower thick, foggy air dulls slightly. His voice takes on something gentler and softer. As good as that was, it just happened a few times, maybe not even a few? Kinda hard to exactly remember. Maybe just twice? Three times? Four... nah, not actually four. Less. It had to be less. There's no way it was that much. They broke up eventually--obviously, for him to get to Sebastian. He'd much, much rather be with Seb, of course, he fucking loves him and they work great and it's so. good.

However, continuing down the path, investigating more and digging deeper, hoping to hit that deep, raspy register again like you hope to hit water when digging a well, Sebastian pushes him a little more, a spark of hope (or something else, something more inappropriate) within him--did he seek it out more, then? It couldn't've just been that one woman, right!? Just with her? And not even a decent number with her. Just a rarity? If it really was all that, wouldn't've it have been more!? Sebastian just fucking can't get that image out of his head: Chris, big, muscular, masculine, so gutting-ly masculine, and, ugh, just manly, yet bent over some plush bed, ripping through the pile of pillows crowding his red-hot face, the sheets and bedding all fucked up around his thrumming body, sweating so badly he glistens temptingly, moaning so loudly as he takes some brightly colored strap up the ass for the first time, and uncomprehending of how good it feels to be fucked. Unable to deal with it. He'd be totally consumed in the pleasure the lucky lady is giving him--fucking him. And if he's not grasping at the sheets then he'd be touching himself, gripping his own body bruisingly, trying to ground himself, trying to deal with the exquisite pleasure and failing, failing so hard with, shit, maybe some lipstick or makeup from earlier making out smeared over his gaped mouth, smeared into his bearded jaw, and smudged down his thick throat--

But, no.

Chris explains that at first, he was too tender to think of it for a while--no matter how mindblowing it was--then when he was recovered enough to wonder about it... he trails off. He doesn't know. He doesn't know why, really.

Out loud, Chris wonders if maybe he just doesn't attract those kinds of women? Girls that would be into that, though--he laughs--he can't imagine there are many women totally fucking put off by the thought. But, he's aware of how he looks, and with a casual, all-too-smooth, stretch-and-rest, he sprawls an arm out to cover Sebastian's shoulders, his hand scruffing the back of his neck meaningful look, he knows what Seb's preference with him is. It's fine. He likes that, too. A lot! He likes it a lot--getting rough and throwing him around, giving him orders, folding him up into a ball, and fucking him until he cries. Yet, at Sebastian's prompting, he finishes with how it just never came up. So he didn't do it again. Just that time.

A few times.

Seb needs a m i n u t e to catch up.

He needs to get a handle on himself.

He's not sure if he'll be able to deal with the knowledge of 24-year-old, in 2005, Chris letting a woman put something up his ass. That was not cool then. And Seb'd, just, kind of assumed based on their fucking around that Chris hadn't done anything like that (Sebastian thought he was the kinky, experienced one between the two of them but maybe that needs to be teased out of Chris, too (that is SO a pet project for another day)) and, honestly, Seb doesn't know if he should be jealous of her for being his first or if he should demand to be given her phone number so he can call her up and thank her, maybe he'll send her fucking flowers, for Christ's sake. That mental image is delicious.

Thank you.

Of course, though, he's sensitive to Chris' big heart. He can understand that waiting while still heartsore completely. And, yes, he shivers continually from Chris' hand, still heavy and big on the back of his neck, making everything around him shine just a little brighter, feeling a little dreamier. But, he is nothing if not constantly on edge because of Chris, anyone would be, he's a walking wet dream, at any given time, Sebastian's mind is half-full of dirty fantasies, so he can't really be blamed for it when he just blurts that shit out--

"I could fuck you, you know."

Chris' mouth opens and shuts. Multiple times. He's gaping like a fish out of water, no oxygen to be found. But he can't seem to help it. Some wordless sound that is supposed to be communication but isn't comes out of his open-shut-open mouth.

"Chris, babe," Seb jokingly pleads with him, leaning in, hand on his thigh, "did I break your brain? Are you okay?"

His mouth moves more as if trying to say that his brain isn't, no, it's--it's fine, he's fine, he... Chris apparently gives up as quickly as he starts to defend himself, stumbling through, "you know, I, uh, um," he shifts in his seat, "don't laugh, okay?"

"Okay," Seb agrees immediately.

"I-I didn't think of that," Chris mumbles in his general direction.

Seb slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle what is, certainly, a laugh despite what he just said.

Chris glares, "Seeeeeeb," he drags out, whining in that Boston-boy way he has sometimes. Nothing but a big, jovial kid at heart.

"I think I should feel insulted," Seb recovers, choking back one last humourous bark, but before Chris can protest to his words, he continues, "I don't." He clarifies. "I don't feel insulted. And don't look at me like that, I'm pretty sure I know what you mean, anyway, you don't have to say it. Y'know? Yeah, like, yeah," he agrees with himself, "we started hooking up but you didn't have experience while I just wanted it bad," he bites his lip, shooting Chris a hopefully killer, dark glance before carrying on, "so there was one way that was easy. Big deal," he shrugs, "we got into the habit of doing it one way," again, he shrugs, this time with one shoulder instead of two, "I should've asked. I just assumed."

"I should've asked," Chris emphasizes, then under his breath, he adds, "I should've thought about it."

"Well," Sebastian's hand lands back on his knee, dragging itself, fingertips teasing and light, up the length of his thigh towards his crotch, "you're thinking about it now, right?" He's looking up at Chris through his lashes, knowing (because Chris has confessed as much to him) that he looks deceptively sweet and coltish for someone who damn well knows how to get into trouble--especially with that mouth of his.

When he expectantly sucks on his bottom lip, waiting for an answer, Chris' eyes fall there.

Predictable.

He gets lost. It's easy to see--to hear, even with the catch of his breath.

So, to help him out, because he's nice like that, Seb tilts his head to the side and clears his throat at the same time. He could just giggle with the apologetic look that graces Chris face, acting like a good, respectful man caught staring at someone's boobs on accident. As if he hasn't done worse to Seb. As if Seb doesn't want him to do worse.

"Yeah..." Chris finds his voice. Eventually. First, his eyes get that same foggy glaze as they have in the video, right fucking in front of him this time, better than any camera could ever capture. He's thinking about it. Fuck, he's probably overlaying that past pleasure with his ex and every wicked, filthy thing Sebastian's already done to him and new possibilities. New delights and overwhelming pleasures that Seb could show him, threatened with a good time. More than good. Seb is gonna ensure that it's better than good. Chris' impossible eyelashes flutter, "yeah, I am. I'm thinking about it."

"Good," Seb whispers back, a smirk sharp on his lips. He folds himself into Chris' lap, following the line of his arm back towards its owner, taking it and curling it around his waist.

Instinctively, those lovely fucking hands find their way beneath Sebastian's shirt. Skin to skin. His heart races.

"I could fuck you," Seb breathes, repeating himself nonsensically.

"Yeah," Chris agrees, blinking up at him from where he's perched in his lap.

A bolt of arousal stabs through Sebastian's chest suddenly, all but making his bones fucking rattle, god, he cards his hands through Chris' hair, sliding through his grown-out locks like silk, and manages to catch at the end, tilting his head back so he's really fucking looking up at him, "tell me you want it," he hushes, their lips just barely brushing.

Chris' paws harder at his waist, squeezing him, "I want it," he groans. Arching his neck, he fights to connect their lips for real, he just wants a kiss, but Seb deftly evades him. He lets his hands fall from his luscious hair and instead holds his head, his jaw, in his hands, feeling that thick fucking beard and reveling in it. He's gonna have this fucking beard between his legs again. Soon. He has to. He will. Yes. "I want it," Chris repeats.

"What?" Seb asks, letting his thumb rest on the pillow of Chris' bottom lip.

"I want you to fuck me," he shuts his eyes against the sheer tidal wave of lust carried in his proclamation, the words punched out of his chest in a breathy moan, gently biting at his thumb, kissing the tip.

Fuck.

Sebastian rips his thumb out of that lush mouth with a distinct 'pop' and smashes their lips together instead. Immediately it's fucking hot and heavy and a little wet and--

God.

Sebastian wants to fucking eat him.

He doesn't give a shit about Chris' glasses pressing against his face a little too sharply. He isn't thinking about how normally he wants to be the one torn apart and swallowed. He can't give any more fucks than the one he's gonna fucking give this man. He's gonna fuck him hard. He's, he's--

He's thinking about nothing but the exotic, erotic way Chris is opening his mouth to him and letting him have. Seb is ravenous to devour and Chris has tilted his neck back beneath the weight, letting Seb lick into his mouth. Seb makes something of a purr that he can't really help, it just happens. Kissing. They're kissing so much, lips locking, and it's as fucking toe-curling-ly good as it always is just a little different. Different, novel, but they still fit together like they were meant to be. It's hot. Intense. Flush against each other. Chest to chest. In lap. Rocking, grinding. Kissing.

Making-the-fuck-out.

Usually, Chris is the one running his mouth with dirty talk between filthy hot kisses while Seb humidifies the scant inch (if that) of atmosphere between their bodies with moans, whimpers, and other wordless, involuntary cries of pleasure that he can't hold in. But, in this moment, thrillingly perilous, Seb can't keep up with the words spilling out of him. There's nothing that can dam the flood. Lust all-expansive inside him, no more room. He's gonna fuck Chris. He's gonna fuck him good. He's gonna fucking fuck the shit out of him until he cums his brains out.

He wants to see Chris broken in the best way--broken open with his fists curled so tight that his blunt nails dig into his strong palms. He's gonna dick him until he's dumb, mouth wide open, hanging open, making garbled, needy sounds with red, red, red lips, but blushing redder. Hotter.

Good.

Seb wants to fuck him good, he wants to slide inside him, tight, tight, tighter than anything as he clenches down on his dick. He wants Chris' eyes to roll back as he feels what it's like to have a blood-hot, throbbing cock in his ass. He wants him to choke, feeling it in his throat. He wants to reduce his confident, cocky man into a pile of mush. He wants to hear him swear like a sailor, speared on his cock, as Seb laughs weakly, shaky, in over his head with how it feels to fuck him, pressed up against him, chest to back, balls deep in that fucking ass (oh my god, don't even get him started on that shapely ass), lost in it just as much as he is.

Christ.

They're gonna be a hot mess.

Chris has ruined Sebastian for everyone else. He's that good. The best he's ever had. So, it's time to return the favor again. He already has, he knows he has, but there's always room for improvement, yeah? He wants to make it good for him, he will make it good for him, and he'll be good for him--gonna blow his mind with his dick. Fuck yes.

I could go on forever with this, really, I could. If only I had the time. I would fucking love to write Chris' shock and dirty thrill at being opened up, feeling the tip of Sebastian's cock pushing into him for the first time, audibly letting go of every half-coherent thought he has, biting off, "Seb! Seb! Ah! God! Seb, Sebb, Seb, it, fuck, it feels s'good, you're so thick, oh my god, ohmygod, it's so hot, s'thick, fuck, how do you take it, how--how do you take me, mmngh, its so much, ah!"

Bonus:

I keep thinking about this Chris, too, like 🥴🥴

gif by @/b-n-a-o

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain, God 2

(Prev) (Next)

Your name is Hotguy...

... Well, not really, that's pretty new all things considered...

Your name is actually Scar Vex Goodtimes but if you want to be honest to yourself way more people care about Hotguy then they do Scar so it might as well just be Hotguy... (You aren't going to think about how this might influence your self-esteem though, after all if you don't aknowledge it then it isn't a problem.)

You are the hero of Hermitopia! Number one on the charts and famous all across the world! With thousands of adoring fans and thousands of criminal behind bars many call you the greatest hero of the century!

With unmatched agility you fly in the sky of the city, jumping between skyscrapers, and enact justice with just your trusty bow and arrow!

Most importantly though: you are the only hero in history to possess two powers! Everyone is in awe because of your combo of perfect accuracy and super speed (hence your Hotguy symbol being half orange and half blue) and you totally do not live in fear of being forgotten the moment someone else also has two powers 'cause that would never happen and even if it did It's not like your sense of self worth is entirely based on your hero career or anything.

"Cub! I'm back" You sing song.

"You are, you were supposed to be back an hour ago"

"Oh c'mon! It's that the reallybway to welcome me back after such a long day? I'm offended."

"Scar, you know your body cannot handle too much stress... You should be more careful."

"..."

"I promised to help you with it but I can't do that if you don't listen to my instructions!"

...You do know that, unfortunately even a superhero as hot and powerful as you has his flaws... Yours is just particularly annoying and limiting.

"Oh c'mon Cub, there was a cat in a tree! You know I could never leave a poor kitty in such a dangerous situation!"

He doesn't answer at first, he then stares down at you with his arms crossed...you have a feeling he might have caught your lie...oops.

"You have super speed Scar, you are telling me it took one hour to get a cat out of a tree?" So he definitely knows what actually happens, has he been watching you again? You thought he stopped! "Well... There were some other things happening around that time... I just didn't think of mentioning them!"

"Huh uh...sure"

Cub turns and for a few seconds the room becomes akwardly silent, so silent that when he begins talking again you jump a little at the suddenness of it.

"There are reports of a new vigilante in town"

Oh? "A new vigilante? It's been a while!"

"Don't sound that excited about crime mr.hero... but yes... This one seems to be heavily inspired by... poultry"

... What? Why poultry of all things? Who would theme their vigilante identity around chicken?? That's like... really lame.

"Calls himself poultryman, modus operandi seems to be...*sigh* trowing magical eggs at people and then knocking them out"

"Magical eggs?"

"Yes, instead of just yolk in some rare cases the egg hatches into a baby chick... I don't know how it works either, it doesn't make sense and I hate it"

Uh... Touchy, got it. Wait, that brings the question, why bring it up right now?

"So... Why are you telling me? Why now?"

"Despite it being necessary for your job to know these things?" Oh... right, it makes sense but you know he's not done. "The hero association wants you to bring this Poultryman into custody"

"Oh! Of course! Consider it done!"

That poultry guy won't know what hit him! ... Hopefully.

[cumikering]

John Price x reader

2.5k | tw implied sui ideation, angst, comfort Thank you for being here today

John smiled to himself as he watched from the end of the bar. A few feet away, a group of three women chatted. The pub was packed, but it didn’t escape his notice that one in particular laughed so bright. The life of the party.

It was the same woman who ordered for the group, round after round. In fact, for other groups too. She’d sent rounds to random tables the past hour.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but what caught his eye was how his battery was at 4%. A stupid idea to be out on such little juice, but the outing wasn’t planned – it was no more than an escape.

His thoughts were interrupted when the barman placed a pint next to the bourbon he’d been nursing. He opened his mouth to clarify-

“Courtesy of the lady,” he gestured to the very same woman.

John nodded at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled. She raised her own pint in acknowledgment. He finished the last of his bourbon and made his way over with the gift.

“Noticed you’ve been buying people drinks. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Saturday night. No one should be drinking alone.” She sipped her beer.

The corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “But aren’t we all fundamentally alone?”

“Correct, but not here-“ She shrugged, teasing. “If you can help it.”

“Honest, is it your birthday?”

“Nah. Just happy.”

“Wanna be like you when I grow up.”

Her laughter was crisp yet warm. It caressed his ears despite the rumble of the establishment.

“Cheers, love.” He clinked his glass against hers and took a swig.

“Enjoy.” She followed suit before turning back to her friends.

He lingered, leaning against the bar as his gaze wandered across the room. Framed photos of vintage rugby and football stills crammed the wooden walls as they glinted under the deep yellow glow. The pub had seen better days, but from the size and chatter of the crowd, it didn’t seem like anyone cared.

He didn’t either. He didn’t pick pubs for its looks.

Behind his glass, he smiled again at the way the woman laughed so easily. She reminded him of a certain someone, a blue-eyed Scot who never stopped soaring despite his clipped wings. The one with the sun roaring in his boundless heart.

The one to do things because he was happy.

She downed her beer, and gave each of her girls a tight hug. She was leaving, but not for a short time it seemed. She turned to the barman to tap her phone on the receiver before handing him a thick wad of bills. The grin cracked his face in half as he thanked her profusely.

John took a step towards her. “Leaving already?” he asked, a little louder this time due to the swelling noise.

“It’s almost 12.”

“Are you Cinderella?”

She laughed. “Wish I was.”

“You can be. I’ll just have to make sure to find you again.”

“No, don’t think so. It’s my last night here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m moving away.”

That explained the lengthy hugs. “Oh, where to?”

“Middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t know.”

John knew a thing or two about faraway places. He spent the entirety of that day in one.

“You’re really Cinderella,” he concluded and downed the rest of his pint. “Have you got a pumpkin chariot waiting outside?”

“It’s nothing that interesting.” She grinned. “Want to enjoy my walk before it’s terribly late.”

“I can walk with you, if you’d let me. You did say no one should be alone Saturday night.“

He was nosy, clingy – not himself. But after managing to crawl out of the hellhole he called his mind, this was his first conversation of the day and he wasn’t ready to wallow in his flat again just yet.

She shrugged. “Alright, why not.”

Once more, she hugged her friends, rubbing their backs. They were teary eyed, but she wasn’t - her smile as lively as ever. He tucked a few notes under his glass before following her out.

On the pavement, she took a lungful of fresh air in, chin tipped up towards the sky. He supposed the weather was decent. At least it wasn’t raining.

His boots thudded as he walked next to her. With her hands tucked in the pockets of her light jacket, she strolled with a little bounce to her step as she looked up at the stars. They were easy to miss, but they were present, and it was enough to bring a curve to her lips.

“I’m sorry, I just have to ask,” he said in amusement. “Why are you so happy?”

“Don’t have a reason not to be.”

Could you really be happy for no reason?

He chuckled. “You make me want to dance, and I don’t even dance.”

She glanced at him teasingly. “You should. Dancing is fun.”

“You know how to?”

“No, but you don’t need to know how.”

“Want to show me?”

She turned to him with a laugh. “What, now?”

He shrugged. Her joy was contagious.

“Well, first of all, you need music.”

“Lucky you, I got the whole world in my pocket.” He pulled out his phone and clicked the power button. Once, twice. It wouldn’t light up. “I take that back,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “Your phone then.”

“If we find a busker.”

He barked out a laugh. “What are the chances at this hour!”

“Slim to none, but you’re probably luckier than me.”

John thought of the close calls he’d had: the gunshots to the shoulders or the bullets ricocheting off his helmet that sent his ears ringing, or the desperate jumps he’d executed from cold-blooded heights. But despite everything, the gift of life was still his. Still beating and fluttering in his rough hand, stained with blood that hadn’t washed off.

He hummed. “I like to think I’m pretty lucky.”

With wonder in her bright eyes, she continued to admire the sky.

Was the secret etched onto its darkness, behind the fading clouds and dying stars? Perhaps he could find out if he squinted, even that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to look at.

Midnight London was nothing close to the desert skies he’d witnessed; the marbled ones with a handful of diamond shards splattered and swirled across them, the ones that made him feel like he was nothing but a speck of stardust waiting for its inevitable dissolve.

But perhaps the answer wasn’t in the beauty, but rather in what you made of what you had.

John glanced at her again because, well, a smile was a smile. If the unassuming sky could inflict something so beautiful, maybe it would work on him too. Even if just a tiny bit. If he’d just give it a chance.

As they entered her neighbourhood, she pointed out the establishments. This flower shop, the owner stopped her one day to give her a stalk of red orchid. That one cafe around the corner had amazing coffee and croissant, but she couldn’t bear waiting over an hour for them ever again. The chippy across it used to be her favourite kebab shop.

She chuckled. “I came in every week for years. It’s been three years and I still miss them.”

“You reckon they know how much their kebabs are loved?”

“Probably not. People never love enough until it’s gone.”

He considered.

“What does it matter anyway? The world runs on the width and height of love, not its depth.”

He shrugged. “True.”

He’d never taken the time to sightsee. It wasn’t really his thing, but a little tour of the city - the city she was leaving - made him feel nostalgic, like he too was leaving. Was he?

It didn’t feel like it took any time at all before she stopped at a building.

She turned to him with a wince. “Sorry, I’m not inviting you in.”

“I know. That’s fine.” John smiled, like the weight had been lifted off his chest, even if temporarily. “Today wasn’t the best for me, but you’ve made it better. So I wanted to thank you.”

She let her gaze drop, and for a second she looked… distraught, before recovering. “Well, you can come in for a bit.”

“Oh, don’t- I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” he quickly said, but she’d headed towards the stairs. He didn’t stop her.

She pushed open the door to a studio apartment, tiny even when it was nearly empty.

“Tea?” she offered, making her way to the kitchen.

Her bed was in the far corner, a small table with two chairs by its foot. Across it, stood a dresser with a guitar leaning against it. The walls and surfaces were bare. There was no clutter apart from an empty carboard box on the floor.

“Sure.”

He didn’t judge. He too barely had enough to fill out a box, but that was his room on base, not his flat.

“You’ve got everything packed, it looks like.”

She hummed, filling the kettle up.

“Can I use your charger for a bit so I can order a ride later?”

“Of course. It’s on the nightstand.”

John made his way over, but the charger wasn’t there, nor on the floor. Nor was it in the ajar drawer. It was empty, safe for one thing. He whipped to her, chills running down his spine.

“Actually, why don’t you keep it. I don’t need it anymore,” she said lightly, flicking the kettle on.

“S’not there,” he muttered.

She scanned the room. “Oh, sorry. Then it must be by the table,” she pointed.

Wordlessly, he strode over and plugged his phone in with shaky hands. He swallowed, his throat going dry as his heart drained. He stared at the back of her head as she opened the overhead cabinet, only to chuckle to herself.

“I’ve only got a mug left. A bowl would have to do.” She set them on the counter and opened two tea bags.

He was going to be sick. He blinked rapidly, searching for something to distract himself with. His eyes fell to her guitar. He swallowed once more before he croaked, “T- That’s a gorgeous one.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled fondly at what he was pointing at. “It is. But one of the pegs broke and I never picked it back up.”

“Can I play?”

She frowned. “You can’t. It’s broken.”

“I’ll make do.”

“But it’s useless. I was going to give it away, but no one even wants it.”

“It’s still a guitar. And it’s not broken forever. Nothing is ever broken beyond repair.”

She paused before turning back to the counter. “Feel free then,” she said quietly.

He sat crossed legged on the floor, back against her bed. He strummed and tuned the dusty instrument as best he could. As expected, it didn’t sound right because of the jammed string.

His heart continued to beat out of his chest as she poured the hot water into the mug and bowl. She set them on the table before settling next to him.

The lump in his throat only swelled, but he turned towards her. His fingers trembled as he picked the strings. The first chord. A beat. A bar and two.

He let out a long, steady exhale. On any other day, he couldn’t have endured the disharmony, but today the ringing in his ears were far louder as he inhaled.

“Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind. I’ll follow you into the dark.”

John’s blue eyes stayed on hers as a smile blossomed on her lips. The sight pained him. His gaze cut to the fretboard.

“No blinding lights or tunnels to gates of white. Just our hands clasped so tight waiting for the hint of a spark.”

The metal strings buried themselves further in his fingertips. He drew a sharp breath, eyes shut, wishing the tears wouldn’t spill. Not now.

“If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied. Illuminate the ‘no’s on their vacancy signs. If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks,” he heaved, trying his best to calm his voice, but a tear finally slipped. “I’ll follow you into the dark,” he rasped.

When he looked up at her, she had turned away, wiping at her tears.

He set the guitar aside and inched closer to her. “I saw…” he started, even when he wasn’t sure what to say. “In the drawer.”

But he couldn’t help himself when he wrapped his arms around her. She clung onto him, face pressing against his shoulder.

“It hurts,” she choked between sobs, her tears seeping into his shirt. “I keep telling myself to hold on for another day… But it’s been too long, and it hasn’t stopped hurting.”

“I know. Thank you for choosing to be here, no matter how hard. Thank you for trying. Thank you for giving it a chance, every day. Thank you for letting the world love you, because it will never be the same without you.”

“I don’t know how much longer,” she mumbled into his shirt, shaking in his arms.

He rubbed her back as he let out a breath. Another tear ran down his cheek. “It might not be now. Might not be tomorrow or next week or next month, but I swear it will be okay in the end. Always. Even if the worst has happened.”

John didn’t know how long, but in the silence, he held her until her tears and its tremors dissipated. Her grip on him loosened.

“If you… Tonight…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Would you?”

She nodded. It was tiny, but it was all he needed.

He wiped his own tears with a shaky sigh. “Come on then. It’s your birthday. We can do whatever we want.”

“What?” She pulled away with a chuckle, her voice still hoarse.

“Let’s go out.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. Are you hungry? There’s waffles. Or chippy, pizza or kebab. The birthday girl can have everything.”

“What about the tea? It’s not even hot anymore.”

“Lucky me. Never been a fan of hot tea.”

She laughed through her drying tears as he chugged it down.

John Price considered himself pretty lucky, but he wasn’t lucky enough to find a busker in 2 a.m. London.

But he was lucky enough to spend hours on his tired legs walking across the city with her. They bought food - whatever that still looked appealing enough at the hour, until they decided to rest at a park. At the top of the stairs as they looked upon the rousing city, they basked in the remainder of its slumber.

At the break of dawn, in the distance, the blush of gold crept over the horizon.

She turned to him. It might not have been as wide or bright, but that smile carried something else. An empty field with the faintest sprout, stained with a tinge of hope.

“I’ll get my guitar fixed.”

It looked good on her.

Thank you for being here today. I’m so happy to have you here. Please stay safe and take care

Masterlist Ex bf Price Formula One Price

[soupandsorcery]

Beaux wakes abruptly, mouth dry, heart in their throat. For a moment, they don't remember where they are, and it's...disorienting. Like being in a mental free fall that has their stomach swooping unpleasantly. The light is odd, which doesn't help. Shifting, rippling, blue-green and eerie. There's something there on the edges of their memory, like a half remembered dream. It wasn't a nightmare, they don't think. There's no gripping fear at the very least.

But there's something...

"Smells like apples and heat. Warm. Wet."

The rasping voice cuts through the bleary half consciousness, and it all comes back to Beaux in a rush. They're in their room at the Lighthouse in a rare moment of down time. And Lucanis—no, that voice is Spite's, isn't it—is standing over their bed.

"Shit," Beaux swears, rolling into a sitting position. Their instinct is to defend themselves, even though they're trying to keep an open mind where Spite is concerned. For Lucanis' sake, if nothing else. Leading by example, so the rest of the team will do the same. They don't reach for a weapon, so that can be compromise enough. "What are you doing in here?"

"Watching." Spite's eyes glow stronger in the dim light, casting their own shadows.

Right. Of course.

"Watching me sleep? That's a new level of creepy, even for you." They rub a hand over their face. "You have to let Lucanis sleep, Spite. And the rest of us too."

"He sleeps. And not interested in the rest," Spite says, leaning closer. "Only you."

Beaux frowns, and really, they're too tired for this conversation. "You're not making any sense right now. Can we do this in the morning?"

"No," Spite says sharply. "He won't let me talk to you in the morning. He's protective." He says it like it's a bad word. "Warns me to keep my distance. He's keeping distance for us both!"

"Can you blame him? Generally chatting with demons isn't the best idea."

"Wouldn't hurt you." Spite makes a face, offended. "Not you."

"I've seen you hurt Lucanis, and you're sharing his body. What makes me so special?"

In a flash, he's even closer, one knee up on the cushion, pressing right up into Beaux's personal space. There's really nowhere for Beaux to go, unless they want to jump over the back of the couch and end up on the floor, and they feel caught. Pinned. Staring into those glowing purple eyes, set into a face Beaux is coming to know pretty well these days.

But this isn't Lucanis. Lucanis never gets this close.

Sometimes...sometimes Beaux thinks he wants to. Thinks they can see him holding himself back with effort. But it's always on the fringes of their vision, and by the time they turn to look properly, Lucanis is back to his usual restrained self.

It's Lucanis' hand reaching up to touch Beaux's hair now, though. His fingers sifting through, rubbing the silvery strands like they're precious.

"Soft. Warm. Trembling," Spite purrs, and it's a low, deep sound that thrills something deep in Beaux's gut.

"I am not," Beaux breathes. Their heart is pounding in their chest, and they should be pushing Spite away. Should be waking Lucanis up so he can put an end to this.

Only...

Only.

Spite inhales deeply and closes more of the distance. "Want to keep you. Want to taste you."

"Oh. I—"

An annoyed look crosses Spite's face—Lucanis' face—and he pulls away suddenly, leaving Beaux struggling to remember how to breathe.

"He's trying to wake up. Bothersome. Cowardly."

"Be nice to him," Beaux whispers.

Spite says nothing, just turns and leaves as silently as he came, presumably so Lucanis will wake up somewhere else other than Beaux's room.

And Beaux lies awake for hours afterwards, absently touching their hair where Spite touched it, wondering at their lack of disgust for this whole thing.

[deepersea]

no thoughts, brain horny.

[thegreatyin]

proposal: the mirror in canterlot castle now leads to the scoundrel's spire.

first ever recorded instance of the scoundrel and the scientist not only sharing a magical heartwarming adventure, but agreeing that it's a magical heartwarming adventure

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I genuinely love how much you're researching this <3 It's very fun to learn so much from you in your tags

good! im glad! we're learning Together! i have the insatiable need to know the As-Specific-As-Possible answer to pretty much every question that pops into my braincase!

[arctic-hands]

I have joined the society of bluetooth earphones

[floral-hex]

“you should get all your patches from local bands and live shows!” Honey, I’m poor and I live in arkansas, how am I supposed to do that?

[kakusu-shipping]

Platonic f/o asks my beloved,,

Anyway, dogwood, cottonwood, and palm for Team Rocket!!

Thankyou very much the Squad!!!!! We love the (no so) Evil Crew!!

Dogwood - You've been quiet for a week or so- do they reach out to ask what's wrong, or do they let you have your space?

I can't imagine a situation where we're not physically right next to eachother that long, but if it did happen they'd reach out. They're a very clingy, prone to think the worst kind of crew.

Jessie's the least likely to reach out as she's pretty use to people just vanishing from her life, so she wouldn't be that worried. But Wobbeffet and Meowth worrying would eventually get her to cave and call me.

Cottonwood - If you took a vacation together, where would you go? What would you do?

Back to Alola! We'd visit Beware and Stufful, chill and play on the beach, plan to stay in a nice hotel just to have Beware INSIST we come home with her and rest in the cave... and honestly that is much better than any fancy hotel could be.

I'd also probably visit my brother Molayne while we're there, maybe finally introduce them to him.. but also probably not skdjkfsk They're shy and anxious around Gym Leader types.

Palm - If they did something you didn't agree with, would you call them out on it or let it slide? Would they call you out on something?

Jessie does whatever she wants and calling her out on it is a risk I'm not willing to take. Meowth maybe it depends on what he did, he's pretty reasonable. Wobbuffet has never done anything wrong in his life he is perfect.

Oh but they'd call me out for sure, especially Jessie. She eats Meowth's special dessert he was saving in the fridge? She did nothing wrong. I ate Meowth's special dessert he was saving in the fridge? I owe the entire hideout dessert now for such a heinous crime. Heaven forbid I actually do something to her she doesn't like...

I feel like following a crew of thieves around watching them attempt to steal some kid's Pikachu for years kind of lowers your standard for what's worth picking a fight over, but that's just me.