#not to mention that these topics are also clearly important to him on a personal level

[fawnforevergone]

this !!! here's the thing: i completely agree that music/art is subjective, and you are within your own right to derive whatever meaning you please from a song, but it feels very reductive to ignore when hozier sheds light on topics that others in the industry often turn their backs to.

i believe that, beyond moral obligation, most artists should want to talk about these issues and help - i feel it is human to simply care, yet it is a rarity. hozier is someone who not only speaks about these issues, but also incorporates it in his art. audiences often ignore news in favour for entertainment, and hozier combines the two yet is still ignored. despite he himself saying that he does not believe his work can exist separately to politics, he is still seen as nothing other than love songs and forests.

some of his music is fun and light and those songs can be seen as so! but his most recent album was based on dante's "inferno" - an inherently political work of literature. still, "eat your young" is seen as a 'sex song', "butchered tongue" is bordeline ignored, "damage gets done" is just a 'love song'. even beyond context, his lyricism still speaks for itself! hozier has an incredible talent at articulating politics and humanitarian issues, and it seems a waste to ignore that when it is so sparse in the industry.

it's just a little telling when people only recognise the depth of his work when the topic is palatable to them.

Just a reminder that listening to Hozier and not caring about politics is not something you can do. You can't listen to his music and not care about the world. You can't just ignore the political messages in his music. A big part of Hozier as an artist, and as a person, is bringing awareness to different issues and standing up for human rights. You can make jokes about him being otherworldly and a tree man because yes, a lot of his romance and morbid songs surround the physical earth it self but you cannot take away the years he's spent discussing human rights issues. He didn't spend 10 fucking years creating incredible albums riddled with songs like Take Me To Church, Nina Cried Power, Foreigner's God, Cherry Wine, and Eat Your Young just to have the political context, a.k.a the heart and soul of those songs, to he ignored. His "aesthetic" is not fairies and forests and skinny white girls in pretty dresses, his "aesthetic" is confronting the government and its corruption to shine light on issues that have been ignored for decades. You can't listen to Hozier and claim to love his music while not paying attention to the world around you.

[neroushalvaus]

Okay I am going to use the Somerton situation to talk about something that is very important to me. Following the discussion I have seen former Somerton fans being disappointed in themselves and questioning how they can ever trust another video essayist again. I have also seen some people being smug because to them Somerton was obviously unreliable from the start. As a person who also saw the "red flags" in Somerton, I would like to skip the smugness and talk a bit about what the red flags were to me.

Someone else has probably posted something similar and Hbomberguy's & Todd in the Shadows's videos touched a few of these points, but they didn't focus on them or how to spot these things. I think it is a good thing: I think it would have reinforced the idea that Somerton's fans were to blame for being lied to, and these youtubers didn't want to pin any blame on the fans. Also, some of the things I'm going to talk about were not by any means proof of him being unreliable, they were common tropes I personally associate with people who are bullshitting on internet. Think of it as something like spotting terfs: If you consider following a tumblr user and find out they have at some point posted "males will always be a danger to females no matter what they say", it is very possible that they are not a terf. Maybe they were having a bad day and were just wording their post badly – But you should probably search "trans" from their blog before following them, just to be sure.

So, the tropes in James Somerton's content that I consider red flags:

Lack of sources. This one may seem obvious and Hbomb talked about this in his video, but the lack of sources in his videos was outrageous. Video essays are called essays for a reason, they are not supposed to be just a guy talking about whatever comes to his mind, they should be well researched essays. Obviously video essays should contain one's own thoughts and interpretations and those do not need citations. But James Somerton didn't come out of the womb knowing everything about LGBT history, Disney and film theory, if he actually knew something about all this stuff, he should have learnt it from somewhere. There should be sources he could point to. It is very common that even when a video essayist doesn't tell you where they got all their information, they open their video by saying stuff like "when I prepared for this video I read the book Also sprach Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche and this one thrilling blog post about lesbian cruising in 1960s Sweden". From what I've seen, James does not really do this. From watching his videos you could arrive to the conclusion that James Somerton does not read any books, he just knows everything. There are situations where people don't feel the need to add sources, like when the information is considered common knowledge or when the topic relates heavily to the essayist's actual academic field or profession. This is okay and very understandable, but can sometimes be dangerous, since if the video essayist markets himself as a marketing specialist, people are more likely to take his word for stuff that has to do with marketing, even without sources. It is understandable that in many situations an essayist may think "why should I cite a source? I know this thing!", but doing your research well is partly about checking if the information you are certain of is actually true. Also, as Hbomb pointed out, if you can cite a source, your audience can go learn more about the subject. It's not about anyone doubting you know your stuff, it's about learning. That's why well-respected video essayists usually cite their sources very clearly.

Lack of pictures and screenshots. This is about different kinds of sources again, many things on this list are kind of about sources. An example: When James Somerton made a video about JKR, he mentioned something about Rowling at one time saying that trans students in 30-50Feralhogs (or whatever the wizard school is called) could use magic to present as their gender. If this was any other video essayist, you'd expect a tweet to pop up, or something else confirming Rowling ever said this. Nothing pops up, obviously because Rowling didn't say this, but you can't see anything fishy in that because things rarely pop up in Somerton's videos. He doesn't show you court documents when speaking about a court case, he doesn't show you the comments apparently mad at him for implying the gay anime is gay when he is complaining about people being mad at him. There is a reason people show screenshots and tweets in video essays. When a good video essayist says JK Rowling has tweeted that all people who menstruate should be referred to as women, the video essayist shows the tweet so people know they are not making it up. If there were hoards of annoying bitc-- I mean, angry white women whining about gay sex in HuffPost articles or Somerton's youtube comments, he should have no trouble showing you those. Remember that you should not trust someone just because they show you pictures or screenshots. Pictures can be photoshopped, screenshots can be doctored. Many youtubers are aware that you listen to their videos while cleaning or while walking your dog and don't actually see the screen all the time, and some may take advantage of that by saying something like "and here she threatened to kill me" while showing a text message where someone said "die mad about it". A screenshot alone isn't much but you should demand to see the screenshot.

Passive voice. I am once again bitching about this. Somerton repeatedly says things like "it's been said that" or "it was common knowledge that" or "a legend says that" or "according to most interpretations". He doesn't say who says it, making it very hard to fact check and that seems to be his goal in some cases.

Relying heavily on anecdotes. Writing a dense, analytical video about film theory or history can be exhausting and you may want to pepper in little fun facts. However Somerton seemed to rely on these heavily; he can't just talk about how he has totally bought every lie told by The Pink Swastika, he also needs to tell a cute little anecdote about SS men forcing sexual favours out of men. He can't just tell a story about a court case, he needs to add in ridiculous stuff about the jury booing. This is what I mean by not all the things on this list being necessarily proof of someone being unreliable. Many people use anecdotes and little stories in their storytelling, it makes the videos flow better and it's hard to decide which anecdotes are valid and which are not. A source obviously makes an anecdote a bit more believable, but here are some things that instantly make me fact check an anecdote:

It's a bit too convenient, poetic or ironic. Sometimes real life is weirder than fiction but if an anecdote is "perfect" and has an amazing punchline and you could write twelve poems about it, there is a possibility it was invented by pop science books.

It assumes your political enemies are stupid. Dunking on conservatives, MRAs and transphobes is always fun and after you've seen a lot of this kind of content it's easy to believe anything about these people. You must resist the impulse to believe everything that may make your opponents look stupid.

The person telling the anecdote implies it is an example of a larger, systemic problem. You know what's worse than taking a random happenstance from human history or internet and basing an entire political theory on it? The said random happenstance being made up. You should in general be wary of people telling one story and explaining why it's an example of everything that's wrong in the world. We live in a huge world. You can always find a white woman who loves cute gays but hates the idea of Nick Heartstopper and Charlie Heartstopper getting nasty but that doesn't mean it's an indicator of a larger issue.

Simplifying complex issues. We all know that "only the boring gays survived the AIDS crisis, and that's why gays started to only care about marriage equality and military" is a horrible, insensitive thing to say, but you also have to think about it for like two seconds to realize that it can't be correct. It kind of reminds me of the "roe v wade caused the crime drop of 1990s" claim in Freakonomics. It sounds logical and simple, like a basic math calculation. Societal issues rarely are like that, though. You should never believe anyone who tells you about a huge societal shift and says it happened because of one thing and one thing only.

These were some of the things I noticed in Somerton's content that caused me to distrust him. I hope these were helpful to you and feel free to add your own "red flags" if you feel like it!

[house-of-angst]

Y'all mind if I talk about Present Mic's quirk for a second? Great.

So, my partner and I have been having Erasermic brainrot lately, and while we were binging content with them, I became interested in Hizashi's voice quirk. I began searching stuff about how sound/volume works, and linking it to his canon stuff.

I'll just say, the info I found makes him a pretty scary guy. It's a shame he's so underused in both canon and fanon.

Frequency

First of all, I want to talk about something everyone knows about him: his quirk is potent enough to shatter glass. Now, when it comes to decibels, it's always important to consider the time and distance a certain note is held for, since these can impact the "hit" a certain sound wave can have when influenced by effects such as the air or vibrations.

(Please keep this in mind for the reminder of this post)

When it comes to glass, however, it breaks almost instantly under the pressure of his voice. Our most constant example of this is the man's poor lenses, but there is a scene I'd like to talk about the most, it being he one where he completely shatters Shigaraki's tank.

One might argue that the glass was already weakened from Mirko's kicks, but that's honestly part of something that makes this so impressive to me; Mirko's legs are strong enough to straight-up rip a high-end Nomu's head clean off, yet this tank was tough enough to withstand two attacks from her - including her ultimate move - before starting to leak; and the fact she was heavily injured doesn't fly here, as we very clearly could see she wasn't holding back one bit.

Now, let's get technical.

According to Google, a normal tone of voice would be around 50 decibels, while the required to shatter glass would be a minimum of 105. For comparison, that's roughly the same volume as a jackhammer. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not so bad! Some singers can do that!" and you'd be right, but there's also some other things to consider. Allow me to explain.

Some singers can reach a pitch that can make glass vibrate enough for it to break, but I've personally only heard of this happening if the person has their mouth close to a smaller, empty cup, and even then the volume would be distributed around. Hizashi, on the other hand, was standing several feet away from this reinforced tank and was able to shatter it immediately, using the directional speaker around his neck to aim the volume. This would naturally require for him to hit even higher decibels, specially when you take into consideration that one's frequency must match the glass' for it to vibrate, which drastically increases when it's dampened. (Read next topic for more info on this)

And then there's his glasses which, like I've stated before, are the most common thing he breaks with his voice. Obviously, this is not directed and it's not a total shatter, but there is something to be observed; say, did you know the necessary volume for lenses to crack, when not being directly aimed at, would be that of a nearby shot from a highcaliber gun? That's roughly 140-170 decibels.

Harm factor

Boy, oh boy! I'm betting most of you were looking for this part when you clicked the read more, right? Look no further, I've got you covered, you just better remember what I mentioned before about distance and duration.

Hizashi's parents were unfortunate enough to have a mutant child that was born with his quirk already active, and I'm willing to bet a newborn doesn't have the slightest bit of control over a power as destructive as a sonic-powered voice, which immediately resulted in everyone in the room bleeding from the ears.

Sound-related ear bleeding is most commonly associated with a ruptured eardrum, which can happen at around 150 decibels and is about the same as a jet engine taking off. While a baby most likely unleashed his maximum voice power on the first breath, I believe something like that would, thankfully, only develop fully after puberty, just like with non-powered people like us, since his quirk is a drastic intensification of a common function and not a new ability altogether.

With that being said... The Finals Exam.

In this, Hizashi was standing very far and, even with the directional speakers, there were many obstacles in the way that kept him from landing direct soundwaves on the students. Regardless, Jirou's ears bled in less than 30 minutes being exposed to this.

This could have happened due to the fact that she has a hearing quirk, which would make hers much more sensitive, but let's study this, shall we? We don't have the exacts of what happened there, but the students are visibly uncomfortable upon the first soundwave, which would suggest it was at about 120 decibels upon impact (with 85 already being enough to cause damage to your ears) and being emitted even higher by him, considering distance muffles volume. Still, I think all that would be nothing compared to the scream he let out after those bugs started crawling on him, with how unfiltered that was.

With Jirou, it comes to no surprise this volume at this distance and time almost rendered her deaf, and realistically would take several months of healing time. How much do you want to bet Hizashi got a solid scolding from Shouta? I mean, it was supposed to be a challenge, but homeboy came this close to breaking her quirk.

Another thing I want to point out is that his voice is powerful enough to actually fucking launch people, and this only happens due to an event called acoustic trauma, basically meaning Hizashi can surpass supersonic levels. Although, it's important to note that this effect is caused mostly due to pressure and not so much as sound, so while it's not freakishly loud (about the same as thunder), it can still cause hearing and psychological damage.

! WARNING !

The following part contains graphic mentions of injury, and death. Do not proceed if these are sensitive topics for you.

Now, we look at the disturbing side of Hizashi's quirk. Buckle in, because it's a wild ride.

Remember what I commented earlier, about him having to hit even higher frequencies to be able to shatter Shigaraki's tank? First of all, as the doctor was sent flying, this qualifies as supersonic, but that's not all. To shatter such a protected tank, with liquid inside increasing the density, he'd have to hit over 200 decibels; which is considered extremely dangerous and most definitely fatal, as the threshold of pain is of 115-140 - this can cause damage such as crushed ear bones, ruptured lungs, or embolism. For comparison, this would come close to standing right next to a Saturn V Moon Rocket during launch, and is no longer considered a "sound" due to the vacuum.

With that being said, the man came very close to dying by Hizashi's hands (voice?) twice. Not only was he so close during the lens incident, literally being inches away from his face and in risk of getting his eardrums ruptured already, but if Mic had decided to raise his voice even more during his rage, it'd be possible for the frequency to make the doctor's inner organs malfunction, or straight-up burst from the pressure.

But that's not the worst part.

After establishing that the lethal amount of over 200 decibels would be necessary to shatter the tank given the circumstances, if he exceeded 240 and the doctor happened to be in the way of this, it would be enough to cause his head to explode upon impact. That old man better be grateful that he was standing a feet few away, and that the supersonic blast blew him away a bit more, or it'd be an immediate game over.

With all this being said, how devastating would it be for this guy to scream his rage out?

(Please keep in mind that many of the extreme cases in this are actually impossible to happen in a real-life scenario and are purely speculation!)

[meanbossart]

Hey! I was thinking of trying to write something for you about DU Drow but after a trying to gather stuff about him via your page I’m struggling to get something substantial for his personality- like I get it mostly (I think?) but it’s hard to put into words (which makes it easier for me) so if it’s not too much to ask; how would you explain DU Drows personality and maybe some of his values? - if you don’t mind! I love your art BTW!

Man, this is a tough ask and I MADE the guy. The fic is definitely the best place to see his personality in action, but it is also 20 chapters long so far - and I'm a fairly reasonable man.

Before I get to any descriptions, there's two important things to note: A) Overwhelmingly, his looks do not match his demeanor. and B) DU drow is extremely hedonistic in practice. He might claim to have certain beliefs or standards but hardly ever practices them.

Anyways, I present to you: The guy, more-or-less summarized to the best of my abilities.

BEHAVIOR: Purposefully standoffish. He wants to be noticed, but he does not want to be bothered. He's a little bit stiff with his body language and mostly makes use of head/neck gestures to assert his sentences and signal his level of interest. On that note, me makes it extremely obvious for the socially-versed individual to tell what he thinks of them - he hardly ever tries to hide if he's disinterested, annoyed, or having a laugh at your expense. He expresses emotion through his face a normal amount, but his default look is eerily bland, and subtle emotions might go unnoticed because of his eye-color and thin brows.

As it is with most people, the more uncomfortable he is with a situation the more stiff and inexpressive he becomes, and vice versa.

SPEECH: DU drow is very much well spoken, and simultaneously very blunt. He abides by most conversational formalities (definitely more formal than you would assume him to be) and basic etiquette. He will greet you and he will say please and thank you even if clearly not meaning it or feeling like you're unworthy of the gesture. Sometimes, he does it just to be patronizing.

With all of that in mind, he has a tendency to use violent turns of phrase and analogies to express himself, this applies to both negative and positive feelings. That being said he's aware of social norma and knows full well when things are or aren't appropriate, even if sometimes he chooses to ignore that and be weird anyway - usually with the purpose of intimidation.

He is the most earnest and sincere with very close friends (quite literally only Astarion and Shadowheart) and rather curt with everyone else unless you catch him in a particularly good mood. He's a little chummier with dwarves and duergar (he finds them amusing and fun to hang out with) and reserves a slight bit more tenderness and kindness for children and mothers, especially if they're elves. He's also fond of animals. He is dismissive of gnomes, goblins, bugbears, half/full orcs and hobgoblins. He despises githyanki and drow. He treats humans fairly respectfully but thinks they are a far lesser race than pretty much all others.

He has a very dark/offensive sense of humor and a tendency to make well crafted, but cruel jokes or quips about sensitive topics. This goes for everybody, including people he's on good terms with.

VALUES: Here's where things get tricky. DU drow is both a hypocrite and a unreliable narrator of his own story, not to mention deeply unfamiliar with his own inner-workings and feelings. Politically, he would be the guy who doesn't vote, doesn't want to pay taxes and dreams of living off the grid, who thinks everybody should pull themselves up by the bootstraps and that it's a dog-eats-dog world. He hates systems of government, authority figures, hierarchical structures and archaic customs. He believes it would a chaotic but functional world if people governed themselves.

In practice, he doesn't stand for anything and gladly overlooks injustices and things that don't align with his supposed values as long as they favor him, or just don't get in his way, and easily makes exceptions for things on a whim. He's indifferent to slavery; unless it's Astarion's. - He thinks humans are a worthless pet-race, except for his dearest and nearest friend, the half-elf Shadowheart. He thinks Half-orcs are intellectually inferior, but he will gladly be chummy with them if they amuse him and make for good-company during a night-out.

INNER WORLD AND INTIMACY: DU drow is extremely unfamiliar with his own emotions and very often comes up empty when he has to justify or explain anything that is based on feeling, while simultaneously operating on impulse and instinct for the vast majority of the time. He is subject to fear, resentment, and insecurity as much as anyone else, but carries a deep shame in acknowledging his own vulnerability at all. He is very intense when it comes to love, however, and shows no reluctance in expressing it through his words and actions towards the people he cares about. He does care for the levels of comfort of those dearest to him though, and doesn't bombard them with it unless the moment is right, or if overwhelmed into doing so. The same applies to physical affection - he's extremely comfortable with it, but cares deeply for respecting the boundaries of his loved ones. When it comes to strangers, he only touches them outside of combat if there is some kind of power-game at play.

A couple of other things that might be of note:

-He likes creature comforts, but is also fine with going without them and won't ever complain about having to live, sleep, or survive in less-than-ideal circumstances as long as he feels in control of the situation. -He can be enticed by valuables and gold because they make the immediate future easier, but he doesn't seek a life of vast riches. -He is not an alcoholic but probably has a binge-drinking problem. -While he is fond and respectful of animals, he has no issues killing them if the situation calls for it. -He pretty much always believes himself to be the most impressive person in the room. -He is not a vain man, but very much likes the way that he looks and to have it be acknowledged by his partner. -He believes faith, religion, and gods to be a waste of time.

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law: fear of closeness and touch part 2, the extended edition

Writing another post about it, because I have a lot of thoughts I need to organize for myself. This time it will be more like my interpretation about Law and his relationships with people than about the touch itself. And also I forgot one of the most crucial scenes about the topic (because ofc I would forget something so important), so I will start with it:

The last touch he remembers from Flevance is hiding under the pile of corpses, cold dehumanized bodies, treated like trash. No one wanted to touch them, just like no one wanted to be touched by Law. How poetic that Law escaped Flevance with a death sentence while hiding among the dead, because he will be treated like he's dead to the world from now on.

This reminds me of a manga I once read, Shigeshoushi (The Embalmer). It's about a guy whose job is embalming the dead, and he is ostracized, feared and refused by people as a result. Contact with death and dead bodies is taboo in Shinto and folk culture of Japan in general. If you think it's a thing of the past, I reccommend to watch Okuribito (Departures), it's really good and this topic is at the heart of the movie.

Anyway, back to the manga, warning for spoilers. Situation escalates to the point when the only human touch the guy can get is that of him handling the corpses for his job and that really messes up with his mental health. His despair leads him to engage himself in risky situations just to get by, casual sexual encounters with strangers become the only form of intimacy he can get and he soon gets addicted to it, but it still lacks the emotional warmth and love he desperately craves, so it's never enough for him. Of course to even get those encounters he has to lie about his job and whenever his lie gets exposed and he is confronted about it, forced to listen to all those women blaming him, feeling disgusted by what he forced on them (it was never forced, but suddenly it's unwanted after they learn he embalms dead bodies every day), and it just triggers and deepens his trauma.

I wonder if you can tell where I'm going with this comparison. Law is definitely as starved for touch and love as the main protagonist is. Still, I don't believe Law would become hypersexual (tho that's just my personal impression, especially after he so blatantly refused Monett), but most importantly unlike the main character Law would definitely not desperately beg for the touch. It's just not how Law is, he doesn't like to impose himself on others if he absolutely doesn't have to. Not to mention he can't bear asking openly for help or for anything really, not after the Vergo incident. It was the last time he ever begged for something.

Law seems to be the type to neglect his own needs to the point that he makes stupid and reckless decisions based on his fear of losing people (callback to Wano and imprisoned Hearts). When people dear to him are in danger, his first instinct is to rush and help them unless he's completely immobilized. That's the level of "prioritizing other people's safety and needs" he believes in, he would do it every time, but he hates when people do it for him. Mostly because he deeply believes Corazon got hurt because of him, and Corazon gave him all that love Law was starving for. And Law believes Cora-san finally died for it.

Add his trauma of expecting people to not want to be touched by him into the equation. That's why he has problems expressing his own need for love (and touch) from that point onward. He acts so tough, doesn't allow himself to show weakness and will definitely never ask for love, he learned his lesson on that.

But what about Heart Pirates? They love him! He clearly protects and deeply cares for them, but in each scene he is with them, not counting Bepo, he keeps them at a distance. I do believe Law treats his crew more or less on equal terms, he favours freedom after all, but their relationship is restricted by his fear and makes it significantly more asymmetrical than the one Luffy has with his crew. I do think Penguin and Shachi are more important to Law than the rest of his crew, they're best friends, they've formed the Heart Pirates together, but he doesn't allow them to be on touchy feely basis with him. That's reserved for Bepo. Bepo is basically the last safe haven Law allowed himself to have up until Strawhats happened.

Law at Sabaody creates three new bonds with people: with two supernovas and Jean Bart. The latter he takes into his crew and I believe it's because Jean Bart has no other place to go, especially with Marines and Pacifistas running around the island. It's possible Law does it all the time and his crew (beyond the original four) got expanded because of that.

Law's bond with Kid started on a wrong foot, not only Kid judges Law based on prejudice and "bad rep" flying around about him, he also accussed him of lack of manners (triggering a flashback to Vergo), all in Law's hearing range. It's not really surprising later on Law doesn't want to owe Kid a favour by letting Kid take care of the Marines. Law clearly doesn't want to be indebted to someone who feels disgust towards him (I don't think Kid is disgusted by him, but that's what Law thinks at this point). And even after Wano it seems Law made sure that they're even, none is indebted to the other. For Law it was just a temporary alliance, he kept his distance, they didn't end up becoming friends.

Last new bond Law created was with Luffy. It started indirectly at first, Luffy was defending his fishman friend. Things said about Hatchan triggered a trauma response in Law ("Don't come closer! Disgusting! He will spread diseases!"), in my headcanon freezing him in the spot. But Luffy defended his friend and indirectly also Law by punching the Celestial Dragon, in similar fashion to Corazon defending Law by punching the doctors spouting similar prejudice about amber lead syndrome.

Law thanked Luffy for that and he felt safe doing so, after all what Luffy did was never directed at Law himself, but the gratitude must have confused Luffy to no end (Why is that guy thanking me? I didn't do anything for him!). Law didn't mind this bond at this moment exactly because it was so indirect, as a result he allowed himself to interact with Luffy and even took the first step, probably thinking it will lead to nothing. But he would never do it if not for Luffy's indirect impact on Law. If that's the expected level for casual bonds Law has set up, I doubt many occassions appeared for that before. It just shows he avoids people as a general rule, period.

But things changed after they left the auction house. Law is displeased with Kid, only telling him not to order him around and refusing to even talk with him, but his dynamic with Luffy is completely different, he doesn't feel bad about it despite being treated like accomplice in the whole Celestial Dragon incident.

He even allows himself to tease him a bit. There's no bad air between them. It almost feels like Law feels more emotionally available despite them being strangers, or rather exactly because they're strangers here and Law thinks they will also leave as strangers, which gives him the freedom to be more open.

They fought together, mostly by accident, but for Luffy that's enough to already feel a bit attached to Kid and Law. He declares he's after One Piece, implying from now on they will be rivals.

That doesn't earn him any response from Law. In fact, he just smirks and retreats without a word.

There are multiple possible reasons for his reaction here, but one of them is important right now: if Law said anything, he would acknowledge that bond, that of being a rival to Luffy. He didn't want it, in fact he wanted them to remain strangers, with no lingering attachments. That's why, when he got offered Luffy's friendship (disguised as rivalship, mind you), he turns back and retreats.

That's his answer. Later in Amazon Lily he also ends up retreating without even waiting for Luffy to say his thanks.

And how ironic that the next time they see each other it's Law who ends up extending his hand, not once, but twice: first by saving Luffy's life by risking his own, and second time by proposing alliance. I can only imagine Luffy's surprise: he got rejected before, but now it's Law himself proposing it! And what a funny guy he is, he doesn't need to offer friendship, because for Luffy they're already friends, after all didn't Law save his life? Law though just needed help, but wouldn't ask for it directly, because we know he never does that anymore, so instead he offered a bait. Frankly he didn't need to, Luffy would do anything he wanted him to anyway. Luffy ofc thought the alliance is a fun idea, but in the end he accepted it because it's Law who needed it to be an alliance, he wouldn't accept help otherwise. Also alliance felt impersonal and safe, without the need to be emotionally open.

There's so many seperate frames of Law just staring and thinking upon their reunion. He's conflicted. Also at this point their relationship changed, whether Law wanted it or not. He was there when Luffy lost Ace, saw him breaking down, definitely thought they now share something in common: they both lost people who were the dearest to them. I'm also sure he could see through Luffy's smile, he knew there's no way he would be already "okay" after just two years.

Unusual whimsical frame of Luffy. He closed his eyes, not listening to the words spoken, but instead listening to his own heart. He knows he needs to kidnap Caesar, that's what Law asked him to do, but Luffy doesn't just want to do what he's told, he wants to make sure the person he is doing it for is happy. It's a callback to Luffy's deepest regret: leaving Sabo with his family, assuming things would be better this way, without making sure first if that's something that would make Sabo actually happy.

Ever since Luffy does this double-check-for-no-regrets for all of his friends and crewmates. He follows Nami to Arlong Park and waits patiently in case she actually needs help. She questions Kyros' choice and goes to all the way to Rebecca to the castle just to ask her if she's really fine with staying seperated from her dad. And he does it here as well. Would kidnapping Caesar make Law actually happy, Luffy wonders. And probably thinks back to their previous encounter, in Sabaody, and Law's mysterious line after Luffy punched the Celestial Dragon: "Thanks Strawhat, you showed me something interesting". And Luffy found his answer and it's this:

Punching Caesar. Apparently Luffy did something right in Sabaody and he thinks it was about the punching, so he does it again now as well. Ofc he wants to punch Caesar anyway, but he does pause before doing that, he actually doesn't jump for it straightaway, it's AFTER he thinks about it. Luffy decided this is what would make Law actually happy, despite going against the plan. Luffy didn't believe following Law's plan will actually make Law happy, but punching his enemies will.

And yet Law doesn't look happy, but let's look more closely to his body languague. He turns around, doesn't declare his unhappiness directly to Luffy's face, he's making an emotional retreat again despite shouting. He's giving mixed signals. So was Luffy wrong?

Law is trying to hide his smile. Making sure no one notices. He's trying to maintain the distance and remain cold, but seems it's working less and less efficiently.

I will let you decide it for yourselves whether Luffy was right or wrong in the end.

There is more nuance about this I didn't even touch yet, for example the drastic gap between Marines fearing Law and calling him a monster, and Stawhats (minus Luffy), at first fearful and suspicious of Law, but it took them like 5 minutes to change their mind and trust him just like Luffy did.

In Dressrosa Law declares that, deep in his heart, he actually also wants to kick Doflamingo's butt. Luffy doesn't even act surprised upon hearing that. Of course, he knew already, Law didn't even have to say it.

While in Dressrosa Law attempts to break the alliance, send off half the Strawhats to safety and despite barely being able to move himself he takes care of Luffy in the final countdown. Almost like he already treats them like his own crew, keeping them safe. If you ask me, someone got attached. And the pinnacle of it is when Law shares with us that he aims to either live or die with Luffy (not die for him, unlike Luffy's own crew declaring in this arc). That's the best he could offer and he knows how much it's painful when someone dies *for you*, he wouldn't inflict that pain on Luffy again, not when he knows Luffy thinks of him as a friend.

And finally in Wano Law finally opens up more and lashes out at Strawhats, just like he did at Corazon. He no longer feels the need to emotionally distance himself all the time, or keeping it all bottled up behind a stoic cold facade and impersonal "alliance". That's how he shows his worry and affection, he considers them his responsibility in Wano.

He also admits for the very first time his fear of losing people. "The plan isn't worth anyone dying" (in this case - Zoro dying). He allows himself to trust and to be vulnerable.

If you think Law is torn about his growing connection with Strawhats, then you're thinking the same as me. He allowed himself to get attached and he didn't want to initially.

Is it really alright if I touch you too…? (ready to retreat his hand at any moment he senses it's unwanted after all)

His words are often rough and cold, but his actions speak for themselves. He trusts the Strawhats by this point, they're his second crew, and he would do the same for them he would do for his Hearts.

And now he has a problem, he gained more people he is afraid of losing. New friends.

[amberjazmyn]

decade 💔🥹

pairing : f1 grid x driver!reader

summary :  aston martin driver elouisa holland is great at keeping her composure in front of the judgemental and ruthless eyes of the formula 1 media circus. that is until she gets asked about why she only has her mum and siblings at her races but not her dad even though everytime she did speak about her dad, it was positive. those who knew why her dad wasn't present at races were worried for how elouisa would respond until the room fell silent when she explained since they clearly couldn't understand or recognise the tense in which she spoke about him. 

warnings : mention of parental death, dark humour, f1 grid press conference, driver x female!reader, platonic x f1 grid, driver reader x max verstappen

a/n :  i have to admit, this was slightly self-indulgent because, fyi, my own father died a decade ago this year and this is exactly what i feel like i'd respond with if someone asked me where my dad was if i talked about him in such a positive light and them not recognising the tense in which i spoke about him. and, also, yes, i have elouisa as an aston martin driver because, no hate but, i'm not the biggest fan of lance stroll so he's just not part of the grid and elouisa is instead but all the other drivers are still in the grid though with a special guest appearance of sebastian vettel. 

it wasn't a shock to find out that the media circus involved with formula one was invasive and sometimes brutal. asking questions that people would think would be off-limits from asking however, within f1, no question was off-limits since there were no secrets within the sport. not even questions about personal matters like their families or their love lives since majority of the drivers had relationships that whilst weren't technically secret but on the private side and other personal matters in their life were safe from media scrutiny. things that didn't even relate to being a formula one driver would be asked instead of the more important questions like how they felt about their car or how the race itself went. and of course, because of these nosy reporters who always wanted clicks and the best and juciest headlines, all the drivers on the f1 grid was put through some form of pr media training so they'd always have the perfect response that would also still give them some privacy as well as preparing them for the harshest of harsh questions without lashing out and gracefully rerouting the conversation back to the original topic of racing. so, if they were responding to a question that was quite invasive and teetered on the line of a privacy violation, they didn't give too much away and they weren't giving the reporter the exact response that they so desperately wanted. and, most of the times, it worked perfectly and the drivers hadn't had their whole lives being plastered over the internet. however, for the first time, elouisa holland's pr training did not come and save her because no matter how hard she tried giving the intrusive reporter her pr media trained responses, he still wasn't satisfied and kept on pressing her for a better answer then the one he had been given. 

so, because of that, she decided to tell the truth and it was a hard truth that would also make many people uncomfortable but, elouisa had been pushed too hard and too far and unfortunately, it was with the entire f1 grid around her alongside the nosy reporters. who most of them already knew the unfortunate reason why her dad wasn't seen around the paddock during grand prixs and why whilst she always spoke lovingly of her dad, she always spoke about him in the past tense. and that was because elouisa's dad died when she was only eleven years old when she was still karting alongside some of those who she now shares the f1 grid with. 

however, that's not how the press conference started. it had actually started as an amazing group interview with all of the drivers, all twenty of them, all bunched up together on the teeny tiny couch. all of them giggling and making jokes with one another and the interviewers and the moderator. elouisa was sat in the middle of red bull's max verstappen and ferrari's carlos sainz jr, verstappen on her right and sainz jr to her left. the three of them were giggling amongst each other and it was during that moment of the three of them giggling that the invasive interviewer, a man who was like at least a couple decades older than elouisa, asked her the one question she had always managed to skirt around giving a proper answer and avoid. 

however, the moment her head looked away from max and carlos and over at the interviewer, it was as though she already knew what question he would be asking. and that was before she had even lifted her head up and before he had even opened his mouth to say anything. 

"you always speak about your dad in such a positive light but we never see him around the paddock or at any of the grand prixs. if he's so great and so loved by you, then why doesn't he make any effort in supporting his daughter in a sport that for so many years, was male dominated and still is considered to be. as the only female driver on the grid, it has to upset you that majority of the drivers have their entire family with them to support them but you don't. especially with the consideration that you are actually quite a talented driver and really getting up there in the status of a legend. but, this is something you always avoid and never answer properly so why are you always talking so happily about your dad but when you get asked why he's never here to watch you drive, you always avoid and deflect, why is that?" elouisa should have prepared herself better but, she genuinely thought reporters were getting bored of asking this question because of the fact she always avoided it

however, this crusty old man was persistent and it seemed as though by his stance and the look on his face, that he wasn't going to back down until he got the answer he desired. but, of course, elouisa wasn't going to back down either so, she started to respond with the same old, media trained answers that she had always used every single time. 

"my dad and the reason why he doesn't turn up to races has no connection to where i am now as a formula one driver. this isn't a question you would ask to someone like max or to charles so why am i the only one being questioned on this topic other than the obvious that i'm a female and they're men? if you have a better question that is actually in relation to this weekend's grand prix, i will happily answer it but, any other non-related grand prix questions, will be ignored, thank you..." elouisa trailed off, placing the microphone in her hand back into her lap as she smiled over at max who gave her a worried look

elouisa knew that the guy was going to keep on trying, it was obvious. however, she didn't want anyone to notice just how bothered she got when people constantly asked about her father and why he was always mentioned but never seen. 

like mentioned before, she was eleven when her father died. and for the longest time, after the death of her father, it was as though her life went by ever so slowly. she wasn't sure how she was still alive because she never really remembered much from ages eleven to eighteen since those years just culminated together all into one. of course, she liked to say that she was the happiest she had ever been from her formula 2 days in 2020 and onwards but, everyone knew she was still struggling deep down. since the loss of her father, she developed an anxiety disorder that was then rediagnosed as ptsd since panic attacks would always strike the australian girl at the worst and most inconvient of times. however, they never bothered her when she was racing or in interviews which she always thought was suspicious considering just how much more dangerous formula one racing was then anything else that she had going on in her life. at eighteen, she made her formula one debut with torro rosso even though it was only just for that debuting performance. after debuting with torro rosso, she moved to renault and then alfa romeo within the same year since the two teams fought over her, spending one half of the year with renault and then the other with alfa romeo. then, aston martin contacted her for a multi-year contract which she couldn't turn down as they had been renamed and brought back after changing their name from racing point to aston martin. and because they knew alfa romeo were never going to keep her for longer than the second half of her rookie season. and in late 2021, elouisa would be the number one driver of aston martin alongside fernando alonso. 

even though elouisa seemed to smile a lot in regards to talking about her dad, it always killed her a little inside because she always spoke about him in the past tense, reminding her of that solemn fact that, her dad was truly never going to come back. no matter how many times she wanted to forget or pretend that his death was just a mean prank that went too far. of course she did. how else would she talk about her dad who was no longer walking the earth anymore? besides, it had accidentally become a habit that she never wanted to get into in the first place. of course she wished her dad was still alive. it was the same for her best friend, charles leclerc, who drove for ferrari. his dad had also passed away but charles was a lot older, he was nineteen and a year away from getting his formula one contract. so he knew the very pain that elouisa went through every single day when she would look and see the other drivers have both of their parents be present for them at every race. it was something she had always longed for and even sometimes loathed her mum for. she had always wanted her mum to fall in love again and when she didn't, it made her slightly hate her mum for not wanting to try to love someone new again just because she was afraid of the same thing happening again. it hurt elouisa to see her mum just blantly ignore her children when they begged and cried out for more than just their mum. only their youngest brother a mummy's boy. the rest of the siblings obsessed with their dad which caused four of the five siblings way more grief from the loss. 

it brought a painful ache into elouisa's heart every single time she remembered the words she said moments after the death of her dad had been announced. the first thing that fell out of little eleven year old elouisa's mouth was 'when am i getting a new dad?'. and even though she was now twenty-one, it was still something that haunted her every waking hour knowing that those were the first words that came out of her mouth. she was eleven, not a baby, yet she was still so clueless about death being final. that death meant the person wasn't going to come back. and now that she was older, she understood why little eleven year old elouisa said what she said. she said those words because she never wanted to be living a life without a father in her life. whether that was her biological father or a father that stepped up and fell in love with her mum and her five children. 

however, that never happened. elouisa's mum never fell in love and it was still something that elouisa would pick fights with her mum about. calling her mum selfish because she's too scared to fall in love again. reminding her that she can't stay miserable forever and that it's not a crime to try again and give her family the stability that they've been missing for the last decade. 

blinking back the cruel truth of elouisa's life, she was pulled back into the press conference as the intrusive interviewer asked her the question again, "i'll ask you again, why are you always avoiding questions that involve your father's obnoxious absences from the races? if a father loved his daughter so much, he wouldn't be avoiding all of her races so where is your father and why are you avoiding answering questions about his whereabouts?" the interviewer asked sharply, waiting for the moment elouisa would crack under the pressure he put her under 

everyone just watching in wait. the drivers beside her all holding their breath as they never truly knew how elouisa would respond or react when asked about her dad. whether she'd laugh hysterically and insert dark humour jokes, in a bid to cover up her uncomfortability. whether she'd cry because it was a day in which she really missed her dad. or if she'd just be nonchalant and continue to ignore the interviewer. however, this time, it was clear that elouisa was equipped with the perfect answer. the answer that no one was ready for because of how brutally honest and uncomfortable it was. 

giggling under her breath, it seemed to excite elouisa that she could finally throw away all of her pr media training and just make this absolute asshole of an interviewer uncomfortable, "sir, i have a question for you, do you have a dad?" elouisa starts as the interviewer is shocked at getting questioned himself but he quickly recovers and nods his head 

"yes, i do, elouisa, why?" the interviewer questioned as elouisa smirked, her plan was working as the drivers looked at her slightly worried - max holding her hand moreso for his own comfort than hers 

"well, when you talk about your dad, which tense do you talk about him in? present or past?" elouisa questions as the interviewer was still confused but not those around him as they all went into a solemn silence 

"present? i don't know, why are you asking?" he huffed, his arms crossed over like a child as elouisa giggled once again as she shook her head 

"okay, good to know your dad is still alive and kicking, sir. i say that because, if any of you interviewers really did your job and did it well enough, you would have picked up on the tense in which i use to speak about my dad..." elouisa trailed off, her head turned to the side as the other interviewers bit their lips in a bid to not make any noises of shock as they finally realised the way in which she spoke about her dad when she did talk about him 

however, this stupid man didn't. he didn't make the connection because it was always this one interviewer that always asked and asked and prodded but never actually paid attention to what was being said and how it was being said. he only cared about his intrusivity being listened to and responded to so he could get the content and reactions he needed for his big stories. 

"...okay, and? what's the tense in which you speak about your father got to do with this question that you always avoid?" the interviewer questioned in slight stupidity as elouisa sighed, her eyes rolling as she reaised she really would have to spell it out for him 

"fuck me...sir, if you were slightly smarter and actually paid attention to the things i post on social media on days like birthdays and annviersaries and why i never respond to your abhorrent questions, as well as paid attention to anything that is seen on my racing helmets, you would know that my dad has been dead for an entire decade...that's why no one in this interview pen has seen my dad except for the other current and former drivers on the grid because when i was eleven, i was still in karting. at eleven, i hadn't even realised that i wanted to reach formula 1 let alone any of the others. if you paid enough attention instead of focusing on the disgusting and intrusive questions to write your big story about, you would be knowledgeable in the news that my dad's dead, mate. like, he's dead dead. like he's so dead that i don't even think i can remember what he sounds like anymore..." elouisa trailed off as the entire press conference fell silent except for some of elouisa's giggles and the clicks of cameras and the one filming the press conference live 

after finally getting the response that the interviewer so desperately needed, he gulped back in embarrassment. his entire face went red and his mouth fell into a straight line as though someone had zipped it shut. he didn't know how to respond and elouisa found it hilarious. she loved when she shut down the ignorant and intrusive reporters because they always reacted the same exact way that this interviewer was reacting. but, it didn't take long before the interviewer then started to try and save his arse. 

"...i...i'm so sorry. i...i didn't know that your dad..." he stammered as elouisa held her hand up, making him stop talking and he did, however it was max's voice that spoke up next, not elouisa's

"...cut the crap, mate. it's obvious you're not truly sorry because if you were, you would have stopped intruding the first time elouisa avoiding responding to your inflammatory questions! if you were that good of an interviewer as you boast to be, you would know that constant nagging isn't going to get you the answer you long for, it's going to end in the same way this press conference has ended. with a driver being pushed to their limit and giving the truth that you so wish for in the most uncomfortable and confronting way possible because you just couldn't stop prodding and poking for a response. but, well done anyway i guess, cause you got what you wished for, right? you now know why elouisa's dad isn't seen around the paddock even though elouisa still talks about him," max was not playing around, he was furious as were the rest of the drivers on the grid but, no one could see the steam that was billowing from the ears of newly retired f1 racer, sebastian vettel 

sebastian had retired but he was still as ever present around the paddock when he was able to be. and at this grand prix, he just happened to be watching the press conference from the very back with nico rosberg, former f1 driver now journalist and they, nico and sebastian, were pissed. the both of them had seen elouisa holland grow up and see how she went through her life without her father present and how it devastated her. how the grief was always ever present around her when she did everything. if these pesty journalists actually did their jobs and paid more attention to things, they would have seen the very clear memorial that the aussie girl has in honour of her father on her helmet in the same way carlos has maria di villota's red star on the back of every one of his helmets or the way charles always pays tribute to his father and godfather, jules bianchi. if they had just noticed these things, they wouldn't have needed to ask these questions but, they probably still would have because they loved to prod and try to break down the only female on the grid to test just how mentally strong she was up against the male drivers. they always did it on purpose because they wanted to prove that girls shouldn't be allowed in formula one and elouisa was their scapegoat every single time. however, this time, elouisa knew what they tried to do and she wasn't going to allow them this time. 

and that made both sebastian and nico proud of their girl. it made the entire grid proud of their girl. they knew from the beginning that elouisa was not the person to mess with but, people still tried yet, as the saying goes, you fuck around and you find out. and this time, this particular journalist did just that. he fucked around and he found out and he wished he never fucked around. and since max let the interviewer have it, it seemed as though he, elouisa and the rest of the drivers were no longer interested in finishing the press conference so they all stood up and, in solidarity for their fellow driver, they all walked out of the press conference. leaving the poor moderator, who was the sweetest guy in the world, all on his own in a room filled with reporters, having no clue what to do since this was being filmed live with no way of editing or cutting anything out. unless the camerman just decided to cut the cameras entirely before moving onto the rest of the grand prix weekend. which, is what the camerman decided to do anyway. the press conference had begun to drag a little too long and it was no longer the light, fun and easy-going press conference that it had started out as. 

as the drivers left the press conference, a breath of air just seemed to evaporate around them. what were they meant to do now? they couldn't remember what was next on the agenda. then, out of nowhere, elouisa bursts into incontrollable giggles. and, this of course, confused the others because how on earth was what just happened that funny? but, they knew not to question her so they also started giggling and the awkwardness just went away. 

finally, elouisa calmed down as she rested against max, "...mate, the look on that old dude's face when i told him that my dad was dead dead was hilarious!" elouisa sighed with the biggest smile on her face - the purest of trauma responses as the other drivers looked at her 

"it for sure stumped him from saying anything else, that's for sure!" lewis chuckled softly as he shook his head as elouisa nodded her head 

"it was supposed to! i said it for that exact reason! i wasn't going to sugarcoat it since it wasn't the first time old mate was begging for my response and he finally got it!" elouisa shrugged her shoulders as max sighed and pulled her closer to him 

"and that's why i love you, elouisa!" max hums with content as elouisa doesn't fight against max's embrace but embraces it and moves closer to him 

"why thank you, maxie! at least someone's not afraid to say it!" elouisa giggles before she stops as she feels the way the looks of the others change from the momentary joy back to sympathy 

elouisa wasn't normally one to get upset over her dad. because, right from the get go, she would always talk about him and she would be able to do that without crying. it was something that actually confused many people because they couldn't believe just how poised she was when she'd talk about her beloved dad so quickly after his devastating loss. how could she not? her dad was her hero, the reason why she even got into motorsport and why she was now a formula one driver even though he would never live long enough to see it. he still had the belief in his daughter that she could make it. that was why she had made it clear that her entire racing career with formula one would be dedicated to her father. but, when it did get quiet within her head and she did get upset about her dad, she knew she could go to any of the other guys in the grid and they'd be there for her to hold her as she fell. 

that was when the very distinct memory of driving on the anniversary of her dad's death and winning popped into her head. 

ʚ✩ɞ

"...elouisa, i don't want to freak you out considering today's already been an emotional day but, with ten laps left, you are in the lead. max is a whole lap behind you with carlos. fernando is near the back with valtteri and logan. so, you just keep on pushing, okay baby? you keep on going and you get that win, alright?" elouisa's radio engineer's voice crackles as elouisa's breath gets shaky 

"thank you! i'm pushing now!" elouisa breathes out before a quick "over" is heard and it's once again quiet between elouisa and her radio engineer 

it was the italian grand prix. not only the home race of ferrari but also the home race of elouisa holland who is an australian-italian f1 driver for aston martin, born and raised in australia to italian parents which meant that she could claim both the australian grand prix and all the italian grand prixs as home races. and, that's what she did. however, this time, this italian grand prix in monza was the most important home race for elouisa. it was the first time that she was in the clear running for a podium finish. but, not just any podium finish but a win. so, that's what elouisa and her team at aston martin were vying for at this italian grand prix. and right now, without even realising it, since she had been swamped by grief and agony of the memory of it being the tragic passing of her father, elouisa was inching closer and closer to getting her first ever italian grand prix win at monza.

elouisa doesn't really realise what's going on because she's so dazed and taken out of the joyus moment but, she knows somewhere deep down inside of her that she's finally snagged a win at one of her home races. celebrating with her radio engineer was supposed to be joyful but it was as though she wasn't even in her body. it was as though she was having an outer body experience and watching it happen. she hadn't even realised that she had driven her car into the parc ferme and in front of the p1 placard. so, it took max, who grasped second place and carlos in third place to help her out of the car and take her helmet off that she started to come to again.

"...elouisa! you did it, you won!" max smiled, his helmet also off as his hands squeeze the girl's cheeks as she looks at him with bulging wide eyes in shock 

"what? no...no i didn't!" elouisa stammered, she was sure max at some point had overtaken her but when she turned to look at carlos, he shook his head, also smiling wide as he joined max 

"yes, you did, hermana sister!" carlos rubbed elouisa's back as tears welled in her eyes, she couldn't understand why or how she had even won a race on a day as agonising and grevious as the annviersary of the death of her beloved dad

"then why don't i feel happy or excited?" elouisa's voice cracked as max and carlos remembered, their eyes sullen 

they hadn't forgotten what this day was or the feelings it brought up for their best friend. how could they forget? they grew up with elouisa and her family. of course, they were on the older side of the grid but, they still grew up with elouisa in the same way they grew up in similar circles to the rest of the drivers on the grid. so, they knew and remembered the exact time on this specific day that they got the news that elouisa's dad had died. it was devastating for all of those in the karting and motorsport world because elouisa's dad was well-known and very well loved. and because he was so involved with it, it had come as a huge shock that the news had come out during a karting championship that elouisa was actually participating in alongside george russell, alex albon and oscar piastri. and, exactly like today, on the anniversary of her dad's death, on the day that it was announced her dad had died, she had also won that karting championship, having no knowledge that at home, her mum was grieving over the loss of her husband and the father of her five children who were all at the karting championship for elouisa. 

maybe that was why whenever elouisa won on days like anniversaries and the birthday of her dad, it never felt happy or exciting. it always had a tinge of sadness because it was another win that he would never get to witness and be apart of. nor was it a trophy that he would be able to  see. so, getting this win at monza was equally amazing for elouisa and aston martin but it was also agonising that it was yet another win that would never be seen and celebrated by and with her dad. maybe that was why her mum had slowly started to stop from coming to races. she couldn't bear to see her little girl on that podium, winning races, without seeing both of her parents there watching. max and carlos could see that the grieving girl was ever so slightly starting to breakdown and they hated it so, they didn't hesitate. pulling her in for a hug, they pulled her closely and held her tightly. the formula one commentators mentioning just how sweet it was that even though they were rivals on track, as soon as they got out of their cars, they were best friends and were there to take care of one another. they also hadn't forgotten what day it was that the italian grand prix managed to fall on this year so, they couldn't do anything else but pay their respects and send their love to elouisa and the rest of the holland family.

  ʚ✩ɞ

"...hey, you okay, schat darling? you went off somewhere, you back with us now?" max giggles softly as elouisa blinks, looking max in the eyes and nodded her head 

"yeah...yeah, i'm fine, sorry. yeah, i was in fairyland for a little bit. i'm sorry, what were we taking about?" elouisa mumbled as she leaned further into max's protective hold as max smiled 

"don't apologise. and whatever we were talking about before doesn't matter anymore, what was going on inside your head? where did you travel off too?" max's voice softened as he got the two of them to sit down on the couch, the other drivers following suite as elouisa scoffed softly 

"my first win at monza...on dad's anniversary..." elouisa trailed off as max nodded his head, the other drivers smiling softly, understanding how agonising that was for her 

"...why's that schat?" max wondered, he remembers that day like it was yesterday and it haunted him at how elouisa was so hollow and as though it wasn't her controlling her body that entire day

"it's a cruel reminder that it's now been a decade since he's died and i still forget that he's never coming back even when i win races..." elouisa whispered, tears that hadn't been shed since that podium, rose in her eyes as her lip trembled 

"...you can cry, lieverd sweetheart." max whispered and that was all that elouisa needed to hear before the tears tumbled down her face as max hugged her close to his chest, her hand covering her face, the other one wrapping around max's middle

the rest of the drivers weren't sure what to do. so they just stood awkwardly, feeling bad for their teammate that her breakdown was most definitely caused by the extremely persistent and abhorrent interviewer from the press conference. that was until lewis led the rest of them out by loudly announcing that they probably had better things to be doing than awkwardly watching max and elouisa. and, max and elouisa both would thank lewis for that later on in the day. not because the other drivers were being ignorant or rude, but it was uncomfortable to see their best friend and teammate cry and not know what to do other than just stand there awkwardly. they for sure could have gone in for a group hug and hopefully used that as a way to maybe make elouisa let out a croaky giggle but, they didn't want to push it or make her feel worse. so, with lewis in the lead, they all left the paddock and allowed max and elouisa to be left on their own. knowing and trusting that max would do everything in his power to get elouisa back to the elouisa they all knew and loved again. 

and it wouldn't take too much longer before max was able to dry elouisa's tears and get that smile back on her face. followed by a shrill giggle not too long after he got her smile back. sure, it was a painful reminder that her dad was gone but, he was never forgotten. no matter how many decades went past since the loss of her father, elouisa would always dedicate the rest of her life as a formula one driver to him. because he was the one that truly believed that his little girl had it in him to have what it took to become a formula one driver. 

fin

ok this ending was shitty and awful but, whilst i was rewriting an old one-shot that is once again max focused, i had this idea so i decided to write it before i forgot it. and this is what i had come up with. and yes, some of what is written in here is what i've through with the passing of my own dad. the truth starting with that, this year, october 2024, it will be an entire decade since my dad died. meaning that exactly like elouisa, i was also eleven when my dad died as i am now twenty-one. which means, it's getting to the point where i've been remembering him for longer than i've known him and that honestly kind of shatters my heart in a way that, by next year, 2025, he would have been dead for the exact same time as he was in my life and that just doesn't sit right with me for some reason. however, because it hasn't even gotten to ten years yet, i shouldn't be thinking about that just yet! and, another thing that is true that i've included in this story is that, not that long after it had been confirmed by the paramedics that my dad was dead and had stopped responding to cpr and defibrilation, i had said to my mum "when am i getting a new dad?" and, i cannot say that i am proud of that statement. it is truly something that haunts me everytime i remember that i said those words. i was just so confused and had no clue what was happening because everything had happened so quickly that those were the words that just tumbled out of little eleven year old amber's mouth.  i was also originally diagnosed with anxiety but then earlier this year, it was rediagnosed as ptsd because of how severe the anxiety within the ptsd was. so, yes, like i said in the author's note at the start, this was a very self-indulgent fic. i hope i didn't make anyone depressed but if i did, i promise i'll help pay for your therapy

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 13

[I struggled writing this. Again! I feel like all this science stuff I'm doing again is draining my creativity 🥲]

It had only been one day since Eve’s banishment from Eden, and yet the angels were all already discussing the future of humanity, the garden and Adam himself. Adam was sat beside Michael in the circle of stressed angels, all too engaged in their debate. Adam wasn’t even initially supposed to present in this meeting, but apparently Michael, ever so thoughtful, suggested that the first man be involved in the discussion regarding his possible future. And Adam would appreciate the gesture if only he didn’t have to bear witness and suffer through Heaven’s bureaucracy. It was one of the few things he actually hated when he used to be an angel. The meeting began early in the morning and the afternoon was fast approaching, and yet they still haven’t broached the topic about Adam. 

Damn angels and their obsession with order. Adam could feel his eyes drooping, his head nodding off, the discussion a soothing background noise; boredom and exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Beside him, Michael noticed Adam’s quickly slipping attention. Humans after all, didn’t have the same stamina and durability that angels had.

“Pardon me, I’m sure these are all very important, but can we get to the topic about Adam? It’s why he’s here to begin with,” Michael gestured towards the sleepy human. “We can continue the discussion about the others after this.”

Seeing Adam’s drained figure, the angels all agreed to pause their current discussion for later and put away their current notes, switching them for ones related to the new topic. As usual, Sera was the one to start the dialogue. With a clap of her hands, the attention focused back on her as she began to talk.

“Alright. Following Eve’s banishment from the garden of Eden, we were faced with a problem regarding their propagation. Eve’s new companion, who will be created using a part of her, will be made in the following days.” Sera placed both of her hands on the table as she looked at Adam. “Adam, you are now without a companion. We planned on creating a new companion for you but…” She glanced at Michael. “Michael had suggested we consult you first. He mentioned something about your possibly…troubled state.”

A new partner for him in Eden? Someone untainted by the fruit of knowledge? While the idea of being with someone, who was also safe and away from both Lucifer and Lilith, didn’t seem so bad, it was also someone new. Someone Adam would know nothing about, meaning another unpredictable factor. Who knows, maybe this new person would be similar to Eve or they could also turn out to be like Lilith. Either way, they would be an unknown factor. And after finally securing Eden for himself, he didn’t want to add more potential risks, especially not when he was already in uncharted territory. That and, well, the idea of opening up to someone like that again hadn’t crossed his mind for over many millennia now, and he sure wasn’t going to start again.

Adam adjusted himself on his seat, carefully thinking about the words he would say and the emotions he should express in front of the angels. With downcast eyes he answered, “I…after Eve…I don’t think I could ever be ready to be with someone new again.” Adam let a few tears slide down his cheeks, a little sniffle here and there, maybe some subtle trembling. Really, anything to gain the angels’ sympathy and pity. 

The sight of Adam seemingly in anguish over Eve’s betrayal and absence crushed many of the angels’ hearts. How pitiful. For such a delicate creature to experience such a horrible tragedy. They couldn’t imagine the scars that such events had placed on his little heart. God’s most perfect creation, traumatised under the clutches of Lucifer and Lilith. Sera placed a hand over her own heart, clearly affected by Adam’s act. “Adam, are you certain you don’t wish for a new partner?”

Adam meekly shook his head. “I think I’ve had enough.”

—-

The late afternoon sun’s gradually cooling rays shone over the serenity of the garden, coating everything in its soft orange hue. Adam leaned back against a tree as he watched the other inhabitants of the garden prepare for the incoming darkness. It was a bit odd. To have all of the garden to himself in peaceful silence. He had gotten used to a high pitched voice that used to always eagerly drag him along the garden in search of new things to try out. It was about this time of the day when he would join Eve, along with Amora, to gather tonight’s dinner. Adam felt a heavy nudge on his shoulder, and was greeted with large yellow eyes when he turned. 

“Guess it’s just you and me now, huh?,” muttered Adam as he allowed the big cat to lay its head on his lap. “What? Are you trying to comfort me?,” he chuckled. His fingers lazily petted the jaguar’s soft fur, the warmth a welcome presence in Eden’s gradually cooling air. 

Now what? Adam had achieved what he wanted, and of course he was happy that could stay in Eden away from both Lilith and Lucifer, he was also happy not to have to suffer a harsh life outside the garden. But he also couldn’t help but be a little anxious about the future. This was where things would start to really change, and while he was confident in himself, he could still only hope that this future he had carved for himself would be better than the one he had previously.

A familiar flapping of three pairs of wings interrupted Adam’s musings. He knew the owner of those wings. Only he would visit the first man in the garden at such a time. Adam turned to face the angel; a knowing look and a silent nod for a greeting. It seemed suitable enough for the late afternoon’s current undertone. 

Michael found himself a spot beside the first man, close but not too close. The two sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the sinking sun as it tinted everything in orange, before the angel uttered a word. “About your decision earlier… Are you certain with what you’ve decided?”

Adam kept his gaze on the horizon, his figure drowning in the sinking rays as it painted him all over like melting gold in a hot furnace. “I’m certain,” he uttered. 

It was one of the few things he was certain of in his newly carved future. He had lived for 10,000 years, and not once did he ever need it. There were some similar things, like his relationship with his exorcists. Each and every one of his girls were dear to him, even that traitorous Vaggie used to have a spot in his heart. Then there was Lute, who he had doted on the most. And while all of those ties were real in their own right, none of them were ever introduced to the cavernous depths of his soul. After living for so long, he realised he didn’t need it, or maybe it simply just wasn’t meant for him. That was fine for him, it was less messy that way, and he intended to keep things neat in this life too.

“But won’t you feel lonely?,” Michael asked. “Being the only one… of your kind I mean.”

Though the words were directed at Adam, Michael’s wistful gaze divulged another story. Even ever since his body was formed from stardust and golden ichor first flowed throughout his body, Michael always hadn’t been the most sociable angel. He got along fine with the rest, but there was always a disconnect. Lucifer’s fall seemed to have resulted in only widening that gap, with others seemingly keeping their distance on purpose after knowing what he was capable of. He supposed that was to be expected, he was, after all, the only angel in Heaven who had the blood of his own kin in his hands. True, he had no choice in the matter, it couldn’t be helped, but the others also couldn’t help what they felt.

Adam mulled over Michael’s words. He wasn’t sure if he would call it loneliness, but being the only person in the garden did make him feel isolated at times. Though he supposed it wasn’t really that bad. He looked back down at Amora who was snuggling on his lap, a content look on her furry face. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the warmth from her large body that she happily shared with him. Adam may be very different from the rest of Eden’s inhabitants, but he felt very welcomed and at home all the same. 

“It’s not so bad,” Adam answered, a faint smile on his lips as he brushed Amora’s fur. “I’ve got the animals with me. They never let me feel lonely. And then there’s also you.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“I’m just happy to have a home.” Adam would want for more. He had always yearned for more, to learn and experience more new things. It was why he invented so many things. From useless decorative items to important life saving techniques. In fact, one of the reasons he proposed the exterminations, besides wanting to fuck with Lucifer and Lilith, was to escape the monotony of Heaven. The exterminations allowed him to experience new things; sinners with their grotesque forms, hellish food that could kill you in a variety of ways, a chaotic society that easily shifted day by day. It was fun, plain and simple, but it was also a wandering kind of fun. If fun new things meant he would lose paradise, his home, then he would rather not take it. Dying and waking back up in Eden made him realise how he lived like a wanderer in his previous life. Moving from place to place in search of something different, but never truly having a permanent place for himself. He would have to learn to hold back some of his inclinations and unnecessary wants this time, now that he got a hold of his home back. Having a place to belong far outweighed ‘the fun stuff’. Besides, Eden was fun in its own right. It had all kinds of animals that would happily play with him despite being deadly if they were outside the garden, the garden itself was big enough to contain various landscapes from rainforests to open deserts, and most importantly, it didn’t have other people who would ruin his day, at least not anymore anyway.

There was this inexplicable look in Adam’s eyes when he answered Michael’s question. Like a wistful longing; something akin to nostalgia, like he was holding something dear that he had only found again. Just at this moment, with the sinking sun reflecting on his already golden eyes, Michael saw in Adam, just an inkling, what seemed to be an eternity of life and experience. It was surreal, it was as if there was a whole other world within the human unbeknownst to anyone but the man himself, though he knew it couldn’t be possible. So instead, he turned his gaze back to the slowly fading sun. 

What was home?

The archangel, of course, had Heaven, the place he first woke up in, the place he had spent the most time in, and the place he always returned to. Though with the recent events, that place had become a little less comforting, a little more alienating. It was still the same but also different. It was like Lucifer had never fallen, but the void of his absence permeated the atmosphere. Heaven had become uncomfortable. But Eden remained a simple comfort. Michael wrapped his wings around himself. The garden was still here and so were the animals. Then there was also Adam. Maybe that was also enough for him.

Part 12

Part 14

[locketsvault]

「 AYATO WITH INVESTIGATOR S/O 」

pairing: ayato kirishima x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, first person, no pronouns/afab gender used, fluff

warnings: canon angst, discrimination mentioned, fluff, sfw “nudity”, back massage with no shirt on, kissing, strictly sfw I promise

request: Hii, can i request some fluff with Ayato (tokyo ghoul) with (an investigator) gn reader? (original request found here.)

word count: 835

a/n: this was honestly quite a hard topic to write about, trying to balance a character who’s angsty, usually mows down investigators happily, with an investigator partner and make it fluffy. I hope it’s to your liking, I did my best to make it fluffy!

You two are a match made in… I can’t say Heaven, that’s a stretch. But you’re definitely a match. How it came to be? That’s a little secret. Some rumors say that you rescued him from being executed, while others say he saved you from being eaten by another ghoul. No matter how though, it was hard to deny you two were a wonderful match.

It was like looking at the black cat and golden retriever trope. It didn’t matter if you were a black cat too, being an investigator made you seem much more lively than a certain emo.

Sadly you two had to keep your relationship a secret from everyone around you, of course with the treat of death on both sides. But after the events of :re you were able to see each other without that threat lingering over your head. And it only made you two closer. You were finally able to move in together, just the two of you in your small apartment near his sisters coffee shop. It was home.

“You’re late.” Ayato stated the second you walked through a door, a false look of annoyance gracing his features.

“Paperwork,” you whined as you took off your coat and shoes. “He’s the worse boss ever, I swear. He makes me write the dumbest reports up, and he always tells me to do it right before I come home.”

“Then quit.” His tone was dead serious, you knew it, and you shot him a light hearted glare for it.

You knew you couldn’t though, you worked so hard to get where you were. He knew how important your job was to you. And he appreciated an open minded investigator among all the well… close minded humans. But he still sometimes wished you quit, for your safety. He also feared having to fight you or accidentally killing you without realizing it was you. That wasn’t fair though, he knew your scent by heart.

You dragged your body to the couch and collapsed onto him with a soft groan. His fake annoyance disappeared, instead replaced with a look of amusement. He can feel your body tense against his, and one touch down your back answered to him exactly why.

“… you were dualing again weren’t you.”

“Yes, but, I didn’t expect to today so I didn’t properly stretch.” You answered as you gave him a guilty smile.

This time he actually gave you a look of annoyance. “Sit up.” He commanded, quiet but affirmative.

“Noooo, I just laid down.” You whined, burying your face into his neck.

All you needed right now was him, to be in his arms, and all the pain would go away. However, that did not work. He huffed and made you both sit up before turning you so your back was facing him. A few sputter and whines later, your shirt was removed and thrown haphazardly on the ground.

“I can practically feel how tense your body is as if it’s my own. No fighting me on this.” The words “let me take care of you” left unspoken but was clearly there.

And how could you say no? So with a faux pout you stayed still as he grabbed some muscle relaxer and started to work it into your soft skin. You couldn’t help but release a hard sigh at the feeling. Your job could be so physical demanding and it wasn’t always easy to take care of your body. Your eyes closed as you took in his touch and warmth. You always cherished soft moments like this with him. He had changed so much since you first met, he had changed for you. You needed this, and you needed some unwinding with him.

“Thank you…” you whispered, breaking the soft silence between you.

You could feel his touch hesitate a bit, still not used to hearing such words in a genuine way. You could hear the almost silent huff and could practically feel the smile he was trying to keep in.

“All done, feel better?” He asked, wiping off his hands before getting up.

You rolled your shoulders and moved around a little. You couldn’t deny, you were feeling much better now. He came back and handed you one of his own shirts, much to your pleasure. You happily put it on and wiggled out of your work pants.

“Thank you my love.” You reached out, pulling him down for a soft kiss.

“You already said that,” he mumbled against your lips before picking you up, “come on, time for bed.”

“Man, my night was just getting started.” You grumbled, rolling your head back.

He rolled his eyes and laid you down, turning off the lights before laying down with you. He pulled you close and caressed your cheek, before kissing you again. It was gentle, more gentle than you were used to from him. He must been feeling extra domestic. You weren’t going to point it out though, it was cute and you loved it.

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

[silvyysthings]

So many little things to pick up from Armie's interview.

It's pretty clear that he won't outright callout anyone, and I am glad that he is doing this with a lot of dignity. He still managed to talk about how each of those women lied. He also mentioned that Liz knew everything beforehand.

He mentions that giving the person he is with an orgasm was something he wanted to do because he did not have that. That shows how bad his sex life with Liz was. And other things he mentions clearly indicate how bad things with Liz were.

He also clarified that effie was his first affair, and it happened after 2016. In the first few minutes of the interview he mentions that everything fell apart and that's when the infidelity happened. He went through a lottt in 2016-2017 huh? What exactly happened in 2016 for everything to have fallen apart. Something to think about.

He also uses the word 'person/people' he was with, instead of using 'women'. Piers keeps saying 'women' but he says 'people'. Something to think about.

He also says 'sexuality' rather than bdsm/kink etc. He keeps using the words 'my sexuality'. Again something to think about.

I do wish he would have mentioned how young he was when he met Liz and got married. He had two kids before 30. It's all very early, wish he would have mentioned that so people get a better perspective.

I am so glad he is bringing so many important topics to the public. He is so brave. I hope he gets his career back. I feel sooo heartbroken for him. He really wants to act and he is damn good at it. I just hope he gets his career back. I hope he keeps doing more interviews and he can spill more tea about Liz and Effie gradually.

Thank you anon

[damianbugs]

dc might not like to address how they've unofficially retconned a lot of jasons original robin run to end up being absolutely classist, but i most certainly will bring it up whenever i can. while this is definitely narrative criticism, it is more of a study, as i am not expecting anyone, readers or dc, to really change how they view the todds.

jason goes from being a rather reserved, kind and genuinely friendly child to an angry and cruel boy who was contemplating murder at some point (batman: urban legends). not to mention willis going from an absent but well meaning man who turned to crime to support his family to now being an abusive father and husband. catherine todd was originally stated to have died from overdose, but was later confirmed in death in the family to pass away from cancer, so while the 'poor addict mother' stereotype still applies, it is more complicated in her case.

it is no surprise that in modern tellings, all three of them represent very realistic forms of poverty. willis the abusive criminal, catherine the addict (her battle with cancer is always noticeably left out) and jason the violent child left to repeat the cycle.

dc simply couldn't allow the todd family to remain poor but an all in all good family (though i am careful to say they were perfect, past or present, since depending how you read him, willis can still be seen as a bad father and horrible husband), and instead had to dramatise negative stereotypes of poor people in order to really perpetuate the existence of jason being the "angry" robin. this mostly comes down to dc perhaps wanting to bury older comics featuring the original characterisation (since the only way to read them is through piracy), and there is no better way to do that than make his current characterisation nothing like his old one, at all.

after all, how else can we ensure readers are aware of how angry, evil and emotionally unstable jason todd is, if not making his life the pinnacle of why poor people are terrible and should not have kids? dc is not trying to hide it at all, it's almost laughable.

while the blatant classism is very clearly the biggest issue, from a storytelling perspective it is also really disappointing. deconstructing catherine and willis todd to their morally reprehensible, abusive and neglectful 2d personalities in modern telling leaves a massive gap is what made jason so personable as robin. personally, i also think it takes away how homelessness and his own poverty seperate from his family might have affected jason's morals and opinions on certain topics — another aspect of his character that is very important but often undeveloped.

especially with jason; making him having always been this quick to rage and violent child/robin takes away the true devastation of his death and subsequent revival. he died an innocent, damaged and complicated but caring boy, and came back vengeful and spiteful. he is a boy who has suffered a lot in life, with a sick mother he had to provide for due to his absent father, who also died due to a life of crime — and yet jason broke free from the cycle and became something more.

he loved to learn, to go to school, to play sports and to help people. he loved being a hero, even when it got tough, and though sometimes it was hard to remember, he always tried to stay on the bright side of things.

it's one of the main reasons bruce is so unable to process and accept his son's return, because to him, the person who came back is not the son he lost. though, that is another conversation entirely.

on the one hand however, i can see why jason's current life story might be more appealing to certain readers (and depending on the work, fanon or canon, it can makes more sense). since now that he's broken out of the cycle of abuse, he can use his strength to protect other vulnerable people. the true 'people's hero' in a way batman and other adjacent vigilantes can not be.

it is just a little regrettable that to fulfill this, he and his family must adhere to classist stereotypes to make it more believable. after all, jason was very much the 'people's robin' even without all the retcons to his character. he has always stood up for people who couldn't do it themselves.

[m1ndbrand]

"all it took was..." — The new President

WARNINGS: Coriolanus Snow is it's own warning(Snow after the 10thGames, 2 years after to be precise); Mentions of death and corpse(small description, nothing big).

SUMMARY: The 12th Hunger Games winner unfortunately fortunately gets the attention of President Snow.

WORDS: 1.384

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the franchise The Hunger Games characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I do claim what I wrote and only that.

A/N: If you know the tragedy of Coriolanus by William Shakespeare some names will be recognizable...Also I'm sorry but this chapter won't be the continuation of their little...encounter— but I promise, it's going to happen!

TAG-LIST: @sorry-mrs-jacobs; @phoward89;

MASTERLIST

He was never someone who believed in the stars and whatever they might mean to some people.

It seemed completely idiotic and beneath someone from the level of education, you would get from the Capitol to have this belief that in his humble opinion, of course — was archaic and beneath him.

Fate and stories written on the stars were all but a way of fairy tales being made, a topic on some and even a very important one at that "merging" some characters together like the universe itself deemed them a pair, one in two.

Star-crossed lovers.

How he hated that idea, he couldn't believe he even fed it to—

Let's not dwell on that topic, he had better things to do, like arrange a new Games Maker for the 12th Hunger Games.

Doctor Volumnia Gaul is no more, some freak accident with one or more than one mutt; it wasn't clear, the body was far too mutilated to be recognised by anyone at all if not for the DNA tests and well...the place of the accident, a place only a few people were able to enter and of course Doctor Gaul was one of those people, him included in the small pool.

It was slightly weird however how the mulls were able to break free, the reporters debated it for the first days the case broke daylight, but the theory was quickly suppressed.

After all, mulls were still in being tested and we're highly volatile, their behaviour unstable and unpredictable. And of course, accidents happen.

But the world continues to go around and so shall the Capitol, he needed to find someone and fast. 

He should have looked more into it, the selection that is. But he had more important things in his place, strength the security in the several points of entry on all distractions, the training of the peacekeepers and the change of the uniform like he so petitioned for just to name a few.

The new and young president had more important things to worry about than some person who would probably be soon replaced if so needed.

The theme he chose ,he didn't even try to remember the man's name, was an advanced-looking arena; a sign of the year the Capitol got a new President. Coriolanus liked the idea. It painted his future reign as one that would lead them into the future, lead them into a better time.

It painted him as a good leader.

The reaping ceremony passed without a problem. Some students clearly didn't like something— their tribute lack of attributes to make them win or the idea of having to participate in such 'twisted games' as the rebel-like-youth liked to name his games. He honestly couldn't care less, blue-ice-like eyes looking straight at the screens with a fake polite smile when the camera twists at him, showing his all too polished self composed with a deep red suit and thick coat that made his figure even more imposing than it normally is.

He would soon return to his manor and actually work, the two hours of the opening ceremony put his work ethic behind schedule more than he liked to admit.

There was much to be done to make the Capitol and the Districts into the way he saw fit and Coriolanus shouldn't waste more time than he already has.

Not even a day later he would have the files of everyone who chose to review. For some reason the late president did this— the threat of the Rebels was still very much a problem and he was of course scared shitless by them so all 'useful' information was of course turned into two paper pages that it was his duty to read through.

Coriolanus was just about to skim through them all but the very first file caught his attention, District One female tribute.

Not the girl's image he didn't even look at it properly, he already saw every tribute face on the reaping ceremony... all looked underfed and clearly not fit for an entertaining games in terms of pure brutal strength, the mentors would need to sell them well to the Capitol. No it was her name. Her last name rang a bell.

A big warning bell was inside his head and it made his eyebrows furrow, hand picked up the two-page long file and flipped through the description of her family. Something was amiss, he could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. 

Coriolanus could almost feel the hunger tearing at his stomach, his small sweaty hand tightly gripping his equally moist cousin's hand as they received the news of his father's death.

His other small hand gripping the files of several names of supposed rebels that could be the reason behind his father's death. Blond hair falls against his sweaty forehead as at that time he didn't understand why he had to read the names of random men.

Brutus.

His hand grips the file on his hand, veins popping up as his eyes skim through the contents of the file, once and then twice. He didn't even sit down, reading in silence for 10 minutes over and over again to look out for another word, sentence, or anything more.

Only two people are still alive from her family— grandmother and little brother, Valeria Brutus and Menenius Brutus, then they got the last name from her grandfather. His hand moves the paper right and left, trying to see if her grandfather's first name was there. But it wasn't. It probably wasn't deemed to be useful information since he is dead. Putting the papers down he turns with a sigh to his window, chin rising as he looks to see all the perfectly arranged garden of pure white roses in the front of his mansion.

No this shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, not now. He got what he wanted he won, the victor. He was still standing with or without his father.

The nostalgic feeling of feeling hungry regrows once again and it makes him nauseous, sharp eyes turning to the face of the girl on the page. She looked like every other girl he reminds himself as he starts a little too long at her face. Eighteen, one more year and she should have been safe from the reaping.

A smile creeps on his lips. Amusement dancing in his eyes like he had just read a good enough joke.

He couldn't sleep.

Coriolanus hated to be in need of something even if it was just a simple pill to go to sleep. He was better than that, he could sleep alone thank you very much.

Couldn't he just get the information he wanted? He could, he had the resources, and he had the needs to if he so pleases, so why not?

No.

No, he wouldn't lose to this...whatever this is, curiosity, need— want to know. Closure.

Maybe that was it. Know the person or people that did this to him. To his family. The people that made him starve and struggle. Envy and step on people that he knew were living better than him, growing to bring them down so he could feel himself high above them all. Know the people that in a way, made him the way he is now.

Rising he presses the inside of his palms to his eyes.

For fucks sake— Shut the fuck up! 

His mouth was open. Eyes shot open and hands grabbing tightly the silk covers, knuckles turning white. Did he shout those words? Wasn't it all in his head? His hands were shaking, face was slightly flushed red from anger.

It's one of those episodes.

Rising he curses under his breath, feet carrying him to one of the small tables with some pills on them. Deep eyes thin as he tried to look into the colours of the various drugs that looked like they were thrown there and he picked a deep purple one in the midst of the rainbow and quickly gulped it down without water.

His attention is caught by the silver-like glow of the moonlight slipping through his windows, blue tired-looking eyes looking up at the sky, they find the stars instead of the moon that sings for attention. Wishing to catch a stray star amidst the ones that stay. Maybe he could catch it as it falls.

With those thoughts, sleep would soon catch him.

Previous

[flavoredfaeman]

Okay making my own long post so that I can get out all my thoughts clearly

So to start off 1. I think that queer baiting is a completely useless term, in part because all it is used for is arguing whether or not something is queer enough (in part because queerbaiting is an incredibly rare phenomenon in western media), 2. I think that the way male queerness is treated in Deadpool is unfortunate, and 3. Gay people are allowed to find joy in goofy movies and it isn't that serious.

**this is all my opinion, a lot of these topics are up to personal interpretation just like with any other movies or media discussion (I am trying to also cover multiple perspectives here, but I am only one person)

Let's get one thing clear right off the bat, no one who is familiar with marvel and disney actually thought that Deadpool and Wolverine were going to kiss/fuck nasty/become an item. (Those were jokes guys.) Those of us who were hoping for queerness were hoping for some subtext at most or the Deadpool-typical type jokes where he smacks a guy's ass, makes a quippy comment and moves on. And within that context of expectation, we were given way more than we expected.

Now, I will say that it is absolutely sad that we can have these movies with gay jokes, but that actually portraying queer characters seems to be too much for them. As is typical (to my knowledge) of bigger movies, they were allowed to make a side lesbian couple (this is a much larger topic, but for the purposes of this conversation, let me add on: cishet men think lesbians are hot + women are not considered to be able to have "real" relationships without men. So they can get greenlit a bit easier.), but Deadpool is not allowed to have meaningful connections to other men.

Deadpool's jokes about gayness can be interpreted in different ways. To some people, they feel hurtful and deriding. To others, they are the jokes made by a man who is comfortable in his identity, and who makes jokes to take power away from people who may want to use his queerness against him. It's really hard to argue this one way or the other, since Deadpool isn't a real person who we can ask to clarify. As such, how one feels about these jokes usually sits within the context of how they view Deadpool and the movies in general. Personally, I think that these jokes are meant to shock audiences, but I don't think they are actually intended to be hurtful. Especially when the funny part of most of the jokes is when he is making them, not that it's gay. Like, straight or gay, it's funny to talk about sex in a really emotional/tense moment, or in the middle of a fight. Particularly when you see how he treats the other queer people around him, not to mention, you know, the fact that he's canonically pansexual. (Frankly I find it kinda weird to go "aah there's a queer man making jokes about being a queer man!! How terrible!!" but that's my prerogative)

From movie 2 to 3 there does seem to be a change in how queerness is being treated. A positive change, in my opinion. Because Deadpool isn't making all that many jokes in this one, he's got a few for sure (Wolverine has one or two as well!!) but a lot of what he's doing is becoming genuinely close to Wolverine. This shifts the dynamic, now it's not just Deadpool making gay jokes or advances to people who don't really reciprocate (to my memory, though I feel like Colossus may have flirted back at like the end of Deadpool 2?), instead the jokes are being reciprocated/responded to and the characters are being put on even ground. Wolverine is a realized character, just like Deadpool, so they are able to grow closer over the course of the movie, and form an actual connection and bond. (Also a lot of the gay jokes become "wow isn't wolverine so hot?" jokes)

Important to also add that yes, they do start the movie with a very fraught and tense relationship, they are both very violent characters, Wolverine has crazy anger issues, and Deadpool makes everything a joke. All of these things are important to their characters and story! If you took some of those early interactions out of context you could argue that Wolverine isn't reciprocating or something of the like, but that would require ignoring the majority of the film. They are kinda crazy and impervious characters who have opposite personalities in a high stakes setting, of course they are going to fight and try to harm one another.

As much as it's already been talked to death, it is genuinely important to discuss the metaphors in this movie. Because as funny as the Honda jokes are, that scene is heavily implied to be a sex scene. This is the art of film, what you cannot show the viewer, you must convey some other way. The fight happens to You're The One That I Want, they repeatedly stab intimate places (stabbing as metaphor for penetration), the way they position themselves in the car and through themselves at each other, and the camera panning towards the bumper as the car shakes (a classic fade to black sex move). This is all movie language, and it is vital to understanding what a movie is portraying.

The climax is also very important in this regard, because as camp as it is, they were willing to die for each other and in that willingness they were able to save each other. Like A Prayer is playing, they are holding hands, when Wolverine's shirt explodes Deadpool takes a moment to oggle him despite the fact that they're both getting absolutely electrocuted or whatever.

Now, despite all of this absolutely beautiful subtext, Deadpool and Wolverine do not get together. That is absolutely an important part of this conversation, their relationship is ultimately left ambiguous. But a queer man being in a homoerotic ambiguous relationship with another man, does not a queer bait make.

Vanessa is an important part of this discussion of course - though to preface this, I find their relationship really boring so I don't really remember a lot of what happened between them in the first movie. Deadpool is canonically pansexual, so his relationship with any woman does not make him any less queer. Though, it could be argued that she's been kept around as a character to make sure he's always in or longing for a straight relationship.

Some people have been arguing that the movie ends with Deadpool getting back together with her, which blatantly does not happen. They were in a weird stage of exes being friends at the start of the movie, where she was in a new relationship, and he was still pining. All he does at the end of the movie is go over to her to let her know he cares about her, which could be romantic or platonic - but IS NOT them getting together. And again - even if he still is in love with her by the end of the movie, he is still queer.

In addition, I don't think that Deadpool is monogamous. He's constantly flirting and showing interest in many different people. Now I don't remember if he ever has a conversation with Vanessa about monogamy, so I could be missing an important part of their dynamic. But as it stands to my knowledge, Deadpool being in love with Vanessa doesn't mean he's not in love with Wolverine.

Both of these potential relationships end in the air. And of the two (if we assume monogamy is important) Vanessa said she had a boyfriend, and Wolverine just moved into Deadpool's apartment. So Wolverine is in a much better position to end up with Deadpool than Vanessa is.

It's also good to note that everything we got in this movie was fought tooth and nail for by Ryan Reynolds and the movie's team. There is every chance that Deadpool and Wolverine's relationship would not be implied but rather outright in a world where studio opinions don't matter.

Everything that I've just described is not queerbaiting. A movie with queer people in it canonically, is not queerbaiting. Queerbaiting is when media sells a character/relationship as queer in order to get an audience and then tells that audience that they are not actually queer (usually done incredibly insultingly, think Sherlock). Marvel and Disney do not need to market towards queer people to get an audience, in fact marketing towards queer people is more likely to lose fans, and gain hate. It's also important to note that the marketing hasn't been marketing these two as queer, they aren't almost kissing in material, the cover is a friendship charm, the most they do is address the fact that Wolverine/Hugh Jackman is hot af. So it literally isn't queerbaiting.

Now, whether or not someone is disappointed in the level of queerness is completely up to the individual! Everyone is welcome to their opinions and feelings about the movie, disappointed or delighted. But a movie is not queerbaiting just because you are disappointed.

[triforce-of-mischief]

legend is a peacekeeper, not a bully. in this essay i will-

heck yeah i'm doing this for real, let's go.

x

let's take a closer look at his initial list of traits:

"chooses not to be a leader type." so, this is a guy who has the experience and maturity that he could take charge, but has consciously decided to leave it to the elder links. taking responsibility for eight men and boys is a lot, and legend simply doesn't have the energy and/or personality to keep it up at all times.

"the most reliable, you want him on your team." legend is a good person to be around! the others genuinely appreciate his company! i love how this is worded; out of a lineup, legend would be chosen.

x

instead of calling out to wild or trying to physically stop him (both pretty dangerous moves around somebody with a nocked bow and arrow), legend simply shoots wild's arrow out of the sky with his own. which is a pretty sick move itself. sure, now wild will have to replace that arrow, but it's hyrule. you can't go two feet without finding a vendor. anyway, we don't get to see wild's reaction but it must not have been extreme because legend is calm around wind moments later. even when they're still getting to know each other, legend makes the right move.

x

legend just gives away an entire freaking fire rod. that's pretty significant if you ask me. he doesn't trust the others with his secrets, but he's willing to provide tools for the job.

x

this is a playful quip during a lighthearted moment. wild probably knows about the impression that he gives off, and he doesn't seem upset about legend pointing it out.

x

then, legend's mood immediately shifts to serious as wild reveals the full extent of his scarring. he settles into a mediator role between wild's casualness and time's concern.

x

as stated before, legend is worried about people breaking his stuff. wild isn't bothered by the veteran's attitude, as he clearly just wants to get in, grab his stuff, and get out.

twilight: "i don't know what his problem is, but you shouldn't let him push you around like that." sky: "oh it's fine. it's harmless. he just doesn't give a second thought about his attitude is all. trust me, people like him aren't bullies." twilight: "hmm. that's very true."

x

THIS. COMIC. any time legend is stereotyped as a bully, i just point to this comic. sky says it himself: people like him aren't bullies. i could stop there, but why would i? sky mentions legend's attitude; i think that legend genuinely isn't always aware of the tone of his words. he says what he wants to say, and it can sound blunt but he never means harm by it. also, note legend's body language in the panel i chose. his hand is behind his head, likely touching his neck. that's a self-soothing gesture and a telltale sign of nervousness. whatever legend's saying, he's not as confident as twilight thinks he is. sky sees legend as he truly is, and that's what's important.

x

the prior subject being everybody else fruitlessly guessing at the monsters' motives. it's late at night, the heroes are probably tired, and the conversation is clearly going nowhere. therefore, legend takes it upon himself to lighten the mood. heavy topics can wait for tomorrow; now, the mystery of wild's arrows will make for a sufficient distraction.

x

legend may be used to being a loner, but he pays just as much attention to the others. he frequently joins small conversations and, at the very least, will observe from close by.

x

this is arguably the only time that legend's teasing continues at the expense of somebody else. it's not an isolated attack, though. all of the eldest heroes are in on the bit, except for time who lets it happen with a resigned look on his face.

x

apologies for the lack of legible conversation, but i really wanted to demonstrate the range of emotions that these two go through. legend and warriors bicker like true brothers; tempers flare for a split second before legend realizes that warriors is purposefully making a mountain out of a molehill. they take turns balancing snark and sincerity, and no harm is done from their initial disagreement.

x

once again: THIS. COMIC. legend is a bit disappointed by the thwarted attempt to tease, but wild makes it obvious that this is not the right time or place so legend acts accordingly. legend tries to make amends by asking a question as he returns the diary, and all hints of prior teasing are gone when he offers not one, but two apologies. legend and wild might be different in many ways, but legend knows all too well how it feels to lose a loved one.

x

legend is aware that he's not the best with words. this is both a subtle jab at himself, and at time- since the elder has taken the leader role, he needs to act like it. legend is reminding time that he needs to be better about praising his group after a hard-won battle.

x

by bringing up the topic of magic swords, legend is the one who caused a moment of tension in the first place. when four quickly tries to ease the mood, legend easily agrees.

x

legend loses another few points here: he's too fast to assume the worst, then snaps at wind as tempers run high after a rough battle. thankfully, things seem to be fine again by the time they make camp.

x

all right, old man, angst time is over. legend isn't thrilled to have to be the one to speak up, but at least time is done being cryptic and creepy.

x

it's not the most ideal subject change, but thinking about ganon is certainly easier than being helpless to wild's plight.

x

can we just... appreciate how legend didn't hesitate before stepping through the portal first, alone? if that's not selfless, i don't know what is.

x

once again, it's time who doesn't realize that his words are hurtful. legend diffuses the situation, leaving twilight to console sky about the master sword.

x

this argument has clearly been repeated for however long legend and wild have been traveling together. even though legend is likely older than wild, he doesn't attempt to force the champion to go with his plan. even one on one, legend chooses not to take the leader role, simply trying to get wild to listen to reason. when four shows up, wild reignites the bickering before legend sighs and admits defeat. as long as they're actually going somewhere, legend knows that there's no point in arguing anymore.

x

legend is pretty set on making twilight admit that he's the wolf- until they're attacked, and legend's thoughts go right back to the group. he then touches the crystal which causes another distraction, but it's important to note that, yet again, legend quits teasing when there's something more important to focus on.

x

twilight points out that legend's teasing isn't supposed to be hurtful. self-defensive, yes, but legend chooses to be this way- even if it's not ideal, he thinks it'll stop him from getting hurt again. so why would he use his quips to bully the others, if that's exactly what he's avoiding himself?

x

legend isn't used to asking for help, but what's the first thing he does? he says thank you! then sky picks up on his awkwardness and it's the skyloftian's turn to introduce a distraction.

x

while the others heroes look nervous or just solemn, legend is embarrassed. twilight and sky were egging four on just as much, but legend still sees it as a personal failing that he didn't act more maturely.

x

legend coming in clutch with another small quip that he hopes will cut the tension. time's interrogating the kid, who clearly doesn't want to give away the elder's story. legend lets them carry on with their important conversation, but kudos to him for trying to lighten the mood prematurely.

x

twilight is out for the count with time, sky, and warriors going to help. so, legend acts as the temporary leader even though he's not accustomed to it. nobody listens to him unless he physically drags them away from a fight, but he still tries to keep the team safe.

x

legend so badly wants to check on twilight, but he knows that four is right. his restless energy then returns and he wastes a few minutes arguing with the smaller heroes before storming out of the inn to look for help.

x

and finally, we have the rare instance of legend wanting to be the peacekeeper, but not knowing what to say. he hasn't left twilight's side since he recovered, but that doesn't mean that he knows how to react to wild's poking at midna. thankfully, wild backs off and legend is able to remind twilight to save his worries until he has his full strength back.

x

so, there you have it! hopefully that was more than enough proof to convince you that legend is a pretty great guy, not the bully that people are so set on making him out to be.

[matryosika]

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Wordcount: 12,944 words.

Includes: Fem!Reader, babysitter!Changbin, MILF!Reader. Age gap between characters (male character is said to be 24, whilst reader's age is not explicited but there's an 11 years gap between the two). It's kind of an important topic throughout the plot, but it's not the main topic. Alcohol consumption. Smut warnings under the cut.

Author's Note: Finally, I finished this Changbin fic I've been work for an embarrassing amount of time. I had fun writing this, but right in the middle I kind of started questioning my existence and I started feeling conflicted about how I was portraying everything. I'm not sure if I'm satisfied, but I had a good time so I guess that's what counts. I know for a fact that there are a couple of grammar mistakes and misspelled words. I promise I'll fix them all soon. In the mean time, enjoy! Also, as usual, please remember that english is not my first language.

If you wish to support my work further, you can leave a reblog/ask/ comment. I also have a ko-fi, in case you want to (and are able to) leave me a tip. As a broke, college student I will highly appreciate it (the job hunting it's definitely not going anywhere, anytime soon. I'm doing my best though!). As I'm based in México, even a dollar helps me tons.

Smut warnings: Perv!Changbin, panty sniffing, jerking off to the smell of used underwear. Non-consensual recording in the beginning (but not really, you'll find out why). Dirty talk, mentions of masturbation (f. and m.), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), mentions of spit/drool, brief pussy slapping, overstimulation, impregnation fantasies (but it's not explicit between the characters), very mild humiliation/fantasies regarding humiliation, consensual recording of sexual activities, unprotected sex, creampie. Changbin talks lot about reader's ex-husband during the smut part so bear with him, it's his ego talking.

“You saw what?!”

Myeong’s high-pitched voice attracts a couple of stares from other people at the café, and you sulk into your spot at the sofa. If there's one person you trust in this world, whole-heartedly, it's her —your friend is good at keeping secrets, but she is not that great at being discreet.

Even so, she is the only one you can talk to about this. You didn't even tell your therapist yet, afraid you might get confronted in a not-so-friendly manner.

“Keep your voice down,” you insist, kicking her leg with your feet underneath the table. The short haired hisses and curses under her breath, but she doesn’t complain. Part of her feels like she earned it by being so loud. “And don’t make me repeat it again”.

“He did not,” Myeong’s eyes embody true shock as she stares right into you, her lips slightly parted while there's a blank expression all over her face. It starts regaining its true colors once her eyebrows quirk, and the corners of her lips turn into a hysterical smirk. “He did not!”

“Yes, he did,” you sigh, brushing a couple of strands away from your face before guiding the white, coffee mug to your lips, “And it’s all video-”.

“Shut up,” Myeong’s hand flies to her mouth and she covers it, repressing any urges to scream or laugh out loud. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I’m not,” you shrug your shoulders, “and it wasn’t just one video I found”.

 Myeong smacks her palm against her thigh, offering you a warm but teasingly smirk, “this might be the greatest day, ever”.

“This is not okay, Myeong,” there’s a lump in your throat that doesn’t go away, not even with all the sips you’ve taken from your coffee as of right now. The words are caught up in your throat, and you're afraid you might spill them if your friend spins the conversation to the wrong direction.

“How is this not okay?” The amusement in her eyes tells you that she is definitely watching the issue from another perspective. A perspective you know well, but that you no longer share, “he is clearly into you, I bet if you ask him to sleep with you he would do it right away, without thinking it twice”.

“He is a college student,” you emphasize, “and he is barely 24”. 

“So?” Myeong cocks an eyebrow. “It’s not illegal, is it?”

You roll your eyes.

“No, it is not illegal,” your friend smiles proudly when you prove her right, but her smile fades away as you start talking, “but it feels wrong”.

“You’re so boring sometimes, you know,” your friend snorts, taking a sip from her green tea. “When was the last time you got laid?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, actually it does,” the conversation is slowly spinning towards you, and you don’t like it. At the same time, you can’t help but answer every question Myeong has, hoping to get some clarity out of the dilemmas she is putting you through. “If you can look into my eyes and promise that your sexual life is satisfactory enough right now, I will let this go”.

Had you been a hell of a liar, you would've done just that —stare into her eyes and blatantly lie. But is it more embarrassing to lie about having a great sexual life and get caught, or admitting it has been practically non-existent ever since your divorce?

Your silence and crestfallen gaze speaks for themselves, and that sparks curiosity in Myeong.

“Because you do… have an active sexual life, right?” A group of older women passes by your table and stares judgingly, which prompts you to shush your friend. Her blank expressions turns into amusement again, and she pokes her tongue through her cheek. “Oh, my God!”

“Look, I don’t need it, okay?” You're not a good liar, but the frustration and the rising heat on your cheeks prompts you to talk without thinking. “I don’t fuck these days and I totally don’t care”.

“What a day!” Myeong scoffs with mirth, “and it is barely nine in the morning”. 

You pick at the hems of your blazer and don’t dare to look at her, at least not until she regains her composure.

“Oh my God,” she sighs again, taking a sip from her tea. “No, I see it, you definitely look like you haven't had sex in ages”.

“My sexual life is not up for discussion today,” you cut her short, rising your hand to catch the attention of a waiter not that far from your table, wanting to get another coffee refill. “But I really need to figure out what to do with the other thing I just told you about”.

“You’re such a prude,” your friend chuckles softly, “you can’t even say his name or address the situation as it happened —you caught him jerking off with your underw-”

“Don’t,” you stop her, glaring at the waiter that's just approaching you. He gets to your table and offers you both a bright smile, before asking if you need anything else. You hand him your coffee mug and ask for another refill, to which he nods compliantly.

You wish you could have elongated the time of his presence near you, to save you from Myeong's accusatory interventions, but there was little you could do when another table called him. After, the mischevious smile in your friend’s lips appeared again.

“So you caught Changbin jerking him in your bedroom, rubbing himself with a pair of your used panties,” you nod quietly, biting the insides of your cheek. There's something crude about the way she puts it, but that's exactly what happened. “What are you going to do about it? Fire him?”

“Yeah,” you agree, and furrow your eyebrows when Myeong shakes her head in disapproval. “Isn’t that the obvious thing to do in this situation?”

“You said he was great, though”.

“He is great at babysitting,” you let out a frustrated sigh, brushing your hair away from your face, “he is so accessible, and Jihun adores him”.

“And you’re still going to fire him?” Myeong asks with a look of disbelief.

“Isn’t that what I am supposed to do?”  The sudden raise of your voice attracts a couple of stares, to which Myeong responds with a friendly smile. You quickly mutter a quick sorry to your table neighbors and other passerbys, and lower the volume of your voice. “The idea of not firing him just doesn't make any sense”.

“Alright, let’s say you fire him,” Myeong takes a deep sigh and leans back against his seat, “do you already have someone in mind for the job?”

You chew on your bottom lip as you shake your head.

“If you’re going to fire him, you better start there,” your friend rightfully points out. “Once you have a new babysitter, then you can fire him. If not, you’re at risk of being left empty-handed”.

“Yeah, but-” you hesitate. The idea of having to look for someone else to take care of Jihun it’s incredibly overwhelming. What if you can’t find someone like Changbin all over again? What if you end up stuck with a shitty, irresponsible babysitter that Jihun might not even get along with? “God, I just don’t want to fire him”.

“Then don’t!”

“But-”

“Jesus, you’re so complicated,” Myeong huffed, taking one last sip of her tea cup before putting it to the side. “What is so wrong about him jerking off in your room? That he did it with your dirty underwear?”.

You keep quiet for a second, which your friend takes advantage of to continue ranting.

“I mean, that’s a little bit nasty, but is it weird of me to say that it’s kind of hot too?”

“It’s a perverted behavior,” you murmur under your breath, but Myeong picks it on very clearly.

“It turned you on and you know it,” she scoffs. “We have going at this for over an hour, and not once I’ve sense any kind of disgust from you when you talk about it. You’re scared, and awkward, and probably confused, but disgusted? I just don’t see it, no matter how hard you try to portray just that”.

Damned be Myeong, who knows you a bit too well for your own liking.

“What were you thinking when you saw those videos?” the short-haired asks you, stretching her arms and placing both palms on top of the table. “Or better yet, what did you feel?”.

She doesn’t know, you tell yourself, but the heat rising up to your cheeks and the sudden throb between your legs betrays you. Myeong might not know what you thought or felt, but you do —no matter how much you try to repress or deny it, the ghost of your hand trailing from your tummy to your aching core is still there.

“Nothing,” you reply, not daring to share the truth.

“Nothing?” Myeong challenges you, “you mean to tell me that it didn’t spark anything inside you?”

It sparked everything inside you, but you couldn’t get yourself to admit it. The whole situation makes you feel silly, and you can't understand why.

“Alright,” she exhales, scratching her head. “I’m going to be pretty straight forward with you”.

Myeong isn't known for her tact, so you're preparing in advance for whatever it is that she has to say. Whether you want her blunt honesty or not, it is perhaps what you need to get yourself out of this dilemma, “shoot”.

“We’ve been friends for what? 18 years?” you simply nod, unsure where this is going to take her. “We went to college together, we finished our majors and graduated on time. I was there on your wedding day, and the day Jihun was born. I was also there the day you decided to get a divorce”.

“Thank you for the quick trip to memory lane,” you joke.

“What I’m saying is that we have known each other for years, I obviously can tell when you’re lying,” she cocks her eyebrows and gives you an accusatory look, but continues on with her speech. “I also can tell how much you’ve changed since that useless marriage of you, and I hate it. You’re far from being the confident woman I once knew”.

“What does that has any to do with the Changbin situation?” A nervous smile peeks through the corners of your lips.

“Please,” she spits, “it has everything to do with it”.

She keeps quiet for a second and stares at you long enough before continuing, almost as if she's trying to get answers from you telepathically. Not that she needs them.

“What are you so scared of?” Myeong queries. Whether she asked it as a rhetorical question or not, you do have an answer of your own. A bunch, actually. “Why did you stop being a woman, and got stuck with the role of a divorced, single mother?”

You know it wasn't her intention, but the stinging feeling of your tears pricking in the corner of your eyes tells you that she has hit a weak spot. Something you weren't expecting to talk about on a Thursday morning during breakfast at a fucking café downtown.

“I know you like him, Changbin,” the way she stitched those words together makes you feel eerie, but the statement is not far from the truth —you don't picture a long life together, and you don't necessarily want anything serious, but you still like him. You're attracted to him, and you've known that for a while now. “It’s really obvious”.

“How come?” The question is stupid, but you really ought to know why.

“I’m your best friend,” she smiles triumphantly, “I just know”.

Your cup of coffee it’s getting empty, and there’s only a couple of minutes before 10. You invited Myeong to grab some breakfast in hopes of finding a solution to your conflict, yet a ton of more questions were awakened.

You can’t tell if that is a good thing or a bad one.

“It’s obvious he feels attracted to you too,” Myeong tells you, getting you out of your own thoughts. “Perhaps it wasn't the best way to find out, but you can clearly tell he has a thing for you”.

“So?”

“So,” she exhales, grabbing her purse from the side of the table. “Do with that information as you please. Jesus, woman, I can’t solve every single one of your mind riddles for you!”

“You’re saying I should tell him?” you rush to ask before she stands up. “You know, about the videos”.

“I’m saying: do whatever the fuck you want for once,” Myeong smiles. “If you want to get fucked by him, go ahead. If you don’t, then you don’t and that’s it”.

“You’re not helping me,” you huff, crossing your arms against your chest while leaning back.

“No one will be able to help you if you don’t let them,” with a tilt of her head, and her lips pressed together in a straight line, Myeong chooses her next words carefully. “What happened with Kyungho doesn't have to keep on taking tolls in your life, especially in your womanhood”.

She extends her arm on the table and looks out for your hand, holding it carefully while giving you a reassurance gaze.

“It’s difficult,” you exhale, fixing your eyes in the way she rubs your hand with her thumb.

“I know,” the short-haired nods. “But you too deserve to have fun, to meet people and feel desired. It is not wrong, you know?”

After your divorce, picturing you with someone became impossible. At first, and for obvious reasons, you didn't feel like putting yourself out there. You had way too much on your plate at the time to even consider dating, and the idea never really crossed your mind. Your work and Jihun occupied most of the space in your mind and concerns, and there was very little room for you and your needs.

As you got a hang of everything, you started to realize the pitch feeling of dissatisfaction inside your chest —there was something you were missing, and you couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was.

Love, with Jihun and your loved ones you had plenty. Money, just enough to live a pretty decent life.

But sex? There was nothing there to tell.

“I’ve got to get going,” Myeong murmurs, squeezing your hand one last time before sliding her chair backwards, “don’t get into your head too much, alright?”

“I can’t promise you that,” you tell her, standing up from the sofa while grabbing your purse while giving her an unapologetic smile. 

The rest of the day you’re spending it thinking about your conversation with Myeong earlier, and the videotapes you found the night before. Most of the things she said are lingering in your head, presenting itself one after the other, like a hook of an essay meant to capture your attention and lure you into all that reading the rest.

She gives you a soft pat on your head and returns the smile, her warmth giving you some sense of comfort, “just try”.

You don’t want to read the rest of your own thoughts. You don't want to acknowledge them, nor deal with them, but Myeong’s voice is still ringing loud and clear in your ears.

What were you thinking? What did you feel? Had you been brave enough, you would have told her everything, from the very start and without gaps. You would have told her about the way your heart started to race as you realized what was hapenning in the tapes, how you stood awake all night watching them, examining them, touching yourself to them.

Now that you think about it, you're not any better than him.

Paperwork is accumulating at the edge of your desk, but you can't begin to care. Time is passing, but you’re still stuck in last night without being able to move forward or backward. Your mind is latched to the sight of him throwing his head back while he wraps your underwear around his cock, the way he starts increasing the movement of his wrist once he is close. Your mind is latched to everything you saw, and all the tiny details you might have missed.

The dates of each footage spin in your head, trying to find a pattern but, at the same time, making no sense. There is, however, a common denominator every single time —Changbin only visits your room when the apartment was empty. It doesn’t happens too often, though, but it has happened a couple of times in the past months. For instance, that April morning you took Jihun to his doctor’s appointment and forgot to inform Changbin, who showed up to your apartment right on time, but found it empty.

It had been a rabbit's hole, the stupid CCTV you haven't gotten rid of despite not being useful anymore. Before yesterday, you didn't even remember you had it —it had been Kyungho’s idea, to install a closed-circuit television system after a spate of burglaries at the apartment complex. At the time, you didn't protest because you thought it was convenient. But, eventually, the burglaries stopped.

After that, the system never came in handy until Wednesday, when you thought you had lost a usb with important work documents. You looked for it everywhere —the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, and even Jihun's playroom.

“You know, kids love small, shiny things,” Myeong had told you over the phone, trying to ease your frustration, “maybe he took it and it’s hidden somewhere in between his toys, I don’t know”.

After a relentless search, and an agonizing feeling of having screwed up, you remembered the CCTV. Although its purpose was to surveill and not precisely find missing things you took a leap of faith —you were too desperate to find it, that the idea didn’t seem too crazy.

So you sat down and searched for the date in which you last remember ever using the USB. Tuesday, this week. You thought doing some home office was a good idea, so you took your stuff home and, after pouring a glass of red wine, you laid down in your bed and started reviewing some documents you have to deliver on Friday.

A glass of red wine became two, and soon you found yourself feeling sleepy. You could clearly see in the CCTV footage how you packed your things, placed your laptop inside your bag, took the glass and bottle of wine to the kitchen and returned to keep on getting your stuff ready for the following morning. Then, some frames of you walking towards one of your drawers, opening and closing them right away.

Perhaps you had been too sleepy, and the alcohol ingested did its thing, but you found the USB right there, where the footage showed it —inside one of the drawers. You smiled triumphantly as you packed the device where it should have been, inside your bag, and returned your attention to the television screen in front of you. What a useless purchase, you thought as you saw the amount of videos stored, but felt glad nonetheless about it becoming in handy.

You could have stop right there. And really, you should have.

But one thumbnail in particular captured your attention. It dated from Wednesday, last week, and it showed you an image of a man walking inside your room, the same 3 frames repeating themselves over and over again.

Wednesday, last week, had been the parent-teaching meeting at Jihun’s preschool. It took longer than expected, so Changbin had to wait at your place for around 20 minutes before you came home. The timestamp in the bottom right corner of the thumbnail confirmed so —it had been recorded at 12:06 p.m., when he was by himself.

Said footage lead you to look for another.

And another.

And another.

[18:01 p.m., You: Do you think I can have a word after your shift today?]

And at one point, you didn’t know who had sunk lower —Changbin, for what he did, or you, for liking it.

[19:23 p.m., Babysitter: Sure. Is everything alright?]

[19:41 p.m., You: Yeah, there’s just something I want to discuss with you]

Myeong's words still resonate inside your mind and, as you park your car outside the apartment complex, you realize you don't have a plan. You had been brave enough to let Changbin know there's something you want to talk about, but you didn't think anything further from it. You just don’t know how to bring the topic up, because there is a lot to explain from your side.

“Yeah, I have cameras all over the apartment and I saw you getting off to my used underwear,” you rehearse, but even the choice of words sounds extremely creepy. You're glad the windows of your car are rolled up, because if any passerby hears you they would’ve give you a perturbated look.

You take a deep breath, grip the steering wheel of your car and go at it again. “Listen, Changbin, I found some videos- fuck!”.

You feel conflicted, and guilty. And a part of you makes you want to believe it is because of the whole CCTV issue, that you should've told him beforehand when he started working with you. But, prior to this week, you didn't even remember it. You didn't avoid telling him out of mischief, but because it was so irrelevant it never cross your mind.

However, the other part of you knows it is because of what you did watching those tapes. You know about the pooling wetness in your underwear as you remember the images of Changbin stroking himself, wrapping your used underwear around his cock and fucking himself with it. You know about the countless times you made yourself come last night while thinking about him, about how good he smells and how much of a gentleman he is.

You know about your attraction towards him, and that is something you can deny to everyone but yourself.

After not being able to find the correct words to use tonight, you leave your car and walk towards your apartment with frustration penting up inside of you. Because, really, what was the worst thing that could happen? Him, quitting his job? At some point, you voted for that solution to this situation. So the more you think about it, the more you expose yourself —the worst thing that can happen is nothing at all.

You take one last deep breath before typing the password in the keypad of your door, and the first thing you're welcomed with is a delicious smell you're not used to.

“I’m home,” you announce, hanging your bag and blazer on the coat rack. These days you're not greeted by Jihun as you usually were. Now that he started his second year at kindergarten, he wakes up earlier than usual and, therefore, goes to bed early too. His absence doesn’t surprise you tonight, but the fact that Changbin isn’t sitting at your living room as he usually does, do. “Changbin?”

“Right here, Miss,” a voice from the kitchen speaks.

You find him standing in front of the kitchen stove, not facing you, wearing some thight jeans, a light blue shirt and your white apron. In the dinner table there's a plate and a glass, along with a bottle of wine you can't quite recognize. Did he bring it himself?

“What is this?” you ask. There's not irritation or annoyance in your voice, but rather confusion and curiosity.

The corner of his lips rise in a soft, proud smirk. One that you can’t capture due to the position he is in. “Dinner,” he tells you, maneuvering a couple of kitchen utensils on his pan. “I figure you might be hungry, and so I decided to cook some dinner for you”.

Static, you stare at his back for endless seconds until his voice brings you back to reality yet again.

“I cooked us some bibimbap, Jihun was craving some,” Changbin explains. “There were a couple of leftover ingredients”.

“Oh,” you murmur, walking cautiously towards the dining table, “you shouldn’t have”.

“It’s no big deal,” Changbin reassures you, getting your dish ready.

You watch him as he moves around the kitchen, and that conversation with Myeong comes back to your mind —he is a college student, 11 years younger than you are. But the more you look at him, the more he doesn't look like one.

His facial features, the way he walks and carries himself. The way he talks and expresses his thoughts, his voice, his gaze... Everything is so appealing to you. He is even more of a man than half men your age, you often think.

“Almost done, Miss,” he tells you, and the title which he uses to address you suddenly weighs heavy on your mind.

“How was Jihun today?” you ask, clearing your throat and preventing any other thoughts from resurfacing.

“He was good,” Changbin walks towards the table and offers you the dish, not without pouring a bit of wine on your glass. “I helped him with his homework, and he asked me if he could watch television afterwards. We spent almost all day at his playroom”.

“Thanks,” you mutter under your breath as he sets the table ready for you. “Is he already in bed?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I hope the dinner is good by the way”.

You give him a quick smile, and thank him again. The dish looks great, and it smells just as good, but you can’t get yourself to take one bite from it. Or at least not when you’re this nervous.

So you decide to start now.

“Changbin,” you sigh, feeling even more conflicted about such gesture. His name it's all that's needed for you to capture his attention, which you do almost immediately. “Please, sit down”.  

He follows compliantly, taking a seat right in front of yours. You're not quite sure how to begin, but you go for it anyways.

“What’s going on?” he asks you, with an innocent smile that gets a little under your nerves. “What was the thing you wanted to discuss?”

You clear your throat and eye the glass of wine in front of you. Silly move, a part of you thinks once you chug it down in one sit. You look nervous, and he can tell. Ironically enough, you're not the one who should be in such a state. You weren't caught doing something wrong, and your job wasn't at risk. So why do you feel cornered, just like he is supposed to feel?

“How do I even say this,” you mumble to yourself, exhaling the sweet taste of wine. It tastes nothing like the ones you usually consume, but it is nice. You know it isn't yours, but you don't dare to ask him the reason behind this odd, unexpected gift. “Jesus”.

He looks at you with empty eyes, that seem to be trying hard to figure out what's going on inside your mind.

“Look, I’m just going to say it like it happened,” Changbin is sitting right in front of you, but it seems as if you’re engaging on a conversation alone with yourself. You hardly recognize his presence there, only fixing your eyes to the now empty glass of wine. “And I know I should’ve told you this when I first met you and hired you as Jihun’s babysitter, but I didn’t because I completely forgot about them and I honestly didn’t think much of it”.

There's a short silence between the two of you, one you use to organize your thoughts, and then continue.

“There’s a CCTV system in the apartment,” you say, without beating around the bush. Saying it out loud, for you, sounds like a shocker, but Changbin doesn't seem fazed at all. “There’s cameras on every room, and they have been there for a while now, longer than you have been working for me”.

After you tell him that, he leans back against his seat and his body relaxes, almost as if he was expecting something else. Something worse.

As if what you’re just about to say isn’t wrong enough.

“I saw some stuff,” you confess, still not daring to look at him.

You hate how this whole interaction is being. You hate how small you feel, even though you're the one calling him out, the one supposed to be in control. You hate how he looks at you, with that heavy gaze of his that secretly whispers an I know what you did. You hate how the eleven-year gap does not cross your mind because in front of him you feel so defenseless.

You hate how you can't even scold him for what he did because you didn't dislike any second of it.

Changbin smiles after a couple of seconds in silence, finding amusement in the way you get flustered as you try to keep your speech going.

“I know about the cameras,” he tells you, and your nervous countenance suddenly drifts into one of confusion. “I’ve known for a while. They’re not hard to spot”.

There's rage within you, probably because of how much time you invested being nervous just for him to shrug it off so lightly.

“Oh,” you blink a couple of times, still in awe.

It takes you a while, but the realization hits you. If he was aware of the CCTV system the whole time, that means…

“Then you know what I saw,” it’s not a question, it’s an affirmation. Hostility lingers in your voice, but that is not enough to alarm Changbin, who licks his lips and tiltes his head at you with a serious deadpan.

“Miss,” he tells you. “What did you see?”

You gulp loudly and finally get the courage to look at him, with an incredulous expression that calls out his cynism. “Do you really want me to say it out loud?”

Another silence dawns up on you, and you're not quite sure how to follow the conversation without his participation, as he isn't really saying anything. So, to save you time and awkwardness, you just let the words freely fall from your mouth.

“I saw footages of you, inside my room,” you spit, seeing if that is enough to get a reaction from him, but realizing you failed again. Not that it surprises you, so you just keep going. “I saw everything, every video there was. I don’t- I’m not sure why I did it, but I did”.

You're reminded of Myeong, again, and how she asked you to do whatever the fuck you wanted for once.

“So, why?” you ask, staring deep into him. You’re not angry, nor disappointed, you also don’t seem grossed out, so Changbin smiles triumphantly. He has gotten away with it. “If you knew there was cameras, why risk doing that knowing I could easily find out?”

“Because I wanted you to find out,” he simply replies, as if the answer wasn’t completely obvious to both parties.

“Yeah, but why?”

“I wanted to end up right here,” Changbin explains, leaning against the table while placing both of his elbows on it. “With you, confronting me about it”.

You look at him in disbelief, trying to give his answers some sense but failing miserably.

“You’re not thinking about firing me,” he continues, looking for your gaze underneath your shock. “It would’ve been the first thing to say”. 

It seems as if the roles have been reversed, and you're now the one who isn't speaking, despite you being the one who initially brought the topic up.Right now you want to listen to him and try to understand what he is meaning with all of this, so you stay quiet.

“So if you’re not firing me, what is it that truly you wanted to discuss?”

The soft smirk he offers you makes you feel dizzy, and you find yourself holding your breath. As if a deep exhale it's going to betray you, to sell you out and reveal your deepest fantasies.

And quickly, you realize can’t fulfill Myeong’s promise, because you’re already too far gone inside your head.

“It was- not okay,” you sigh. “You’re just- way too young for me. I have an exhusband, and a child. I’m a fucking mother, Changbin”.

“So?” he asks you with one of his brows slightly raised. Defiantly, intimidating, ready to prove you wrong. “Does that mean I can't find you attractive?”

The sudden confession makes your heart feel as if you were on top of the roller coaster, despite Myeong bringing the possibility to the table earlier today.

“You shouldn’t,” you cut him short. “There’s nothing I can offer you. You should seek women your age”.

“But I want you,” he makes it very clear, with no hesitation in his voice. There’s a table between you two, but it is not enough of a barrier to prevent you from feeling him close. “It’s you who I think about when I jerk off, not them”.

There’s another silence that accompanies the realization sinking. Changbin is attracted to you, and he does jerks off thinking about you. You shouldn’t feel flattered, but you do, and it’s dangerous.

It has been a while since someone lusted after you like this.

“Changbin,” you swallow thickly, but not even that small amount of saliva does anything to ease the dry feeling in your throat. “You’re too young”.

He gives a smile that hides cockiness behind it, almost as if he wanted you to bring that up.

“I can treat you better than men your age, in every way,” the tip of his tongue grazes against his cheek in an arrogant manner that don’t really hate. The attitude looks good on him. “Even better than your exhusband”.

The heat is rising up to your cheeks, and it feels awkward. Your thighs are squeezing together, too, and you pray for him to not notice any crevice of all that you are trying so hard to hide.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep talking about this,” you mumble, standing up from your seat while he does the same. “Go home, and I’ll see you on Monday”. 

“So you’re really not going to fire me,” Changbin murmurs, dangerously approaching you. “Hm?”

You’re too close to spit it out. To give in, tell him that he can do with you whatever he wants. You’re too close to break in front of him, just like he is to pressing his body against yours.

“No,” you inhale, anticipating the contact of his hand against your hips.

“Is there a good reason behind such a decision?”

You swallow thickly, and think about how long it has been since the last time you felt someone’s body against yours —it has been ages, to say the least.

“I-” you can’t think straight. The mere touch of his hand against your clothes, and his deep gaze staring right through you is enough to overwhelm you. “Jihun likes you too much, I can’t- I don’t want to hire anybody else”.

“And you?” Changbin asks you, tilting his head. “Do you like me?”

What is the point of resisting? Now that his lips are too close to yours, and you're aching to feel his hips pressed against your body, you no longer care about anything you did a couple minutes ago. You like Changbin. You like his body, his gentleness, his sympathy. You like how attractive and confident he is, how he stares at you, how he desires you.

You like him. Isn’t that enough to give in?

“Just admit it,” he whispers, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek, “and I’ll take care of the rest”.

“What’s going to happen if I do?” you ask him, nibbling at the skin of your lower lip.

“You know what is going to happen,” Changbin scoffs, so softly it sounds like a melody rather than a teasing laugh. “Didn't the videos gave you enough hints about how desperate I am for you?”

You're not used to him being this straight-forward. Maybe you are a prude, because the way he is talking to you right now is making it difficult to hold the eye contact, and it's making your skin warmer.

Changbin is quick to pick up on that, on the way you can hardly look at him while he speaks, and the way you swallow thickly with each words that leaves his lips —he makes a mental note to remember it later.

“Tomorrow,” you tell him and, for the first time tonight, you feel the air actually getting to your lungs. “Jihun is spending the weekend with his father”.

He smiles cockily against your lips, leaning in further to place a quick peck on them. A quick peck that leaves you craving for more, that makes your chest feel heavy and your limbs numb.

“See you tomorrow, then”.

You can’t stop eyeing your phone screen, thinking that staring at the clock for too long will prevent it from letting time pass.

You've given in. And there's no turning back.

It’s 18:41. And it has been 18:41 for the past hour or so. The seconds are passing excruciatingly slow, and that does nothing to ease your anguish.

You tried to catch up on all the paperwork you left undone yesterday, went and lunch somewhere else rather than the company’s cafeteria to kill some time, and even texted Myeong asking her if she was busy because you wanted to talk to her. Myeong hasn’t texted you back yet, but the two other activities weren’t enough to distract you from the inevitable.

18:41, still. Anticipation is killing you, what have you gotten yourself into?

You can't shake off the feeling of his lips against yours, no matter how minimal and quick the contact was. It wasn’t a kiss in all the sense of the word, it was just a peck. Yet that is enough for your mind to keep on repeating the moment on loop, making you feel the pressure on your lips, despite him not being anywhere around you right now.

You glance at your phone screen again.

18:42. You swallow thickly.

The sudden buzz of your phone inside your hand makes your heart skips a beat, and you hold it right against your chest. Please let it be Myeong, you pray, feeling a pit in your stomach and the sudden sensation of having to visit the restroom. Please let it be Myeong.

[18:42, Myeong: Just got out of a meeting. What’s up?]

[18:42, You: I’m meeting Changbin after work]

Not even two seconds after pressing the sent button, your phone is buzzing repeatedly and Myeong's image is being shown right at the center of the screen.

“What?!” Her squealing is what welcomes you after you pick up the call. She screams so loud you have to move your phone away from your ear, allowing her to scream as much as she wants without compromising one of your senses. “Oh my fucking God!”

It takes her a while to regain her composure, but she gets there. After panting and letting out sighs of amusement, Myeong gives you the word.

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “I’m so fucking nervous, I feel like a teenager”.

“Of course,” Myeong sighs, and you don’t have to see her to know she is probably smiling. “Isn’t that expected? It has been a while since, you know, you put yourself out there”.

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur, biting the skin around your nails. “But God, I feel so pathetic”.

“Once you're being dicked down you're definitely going to forget that feeling, don't worry,” your friend jokes with a teasing chuckle, and you huff under your breath. “Or you can ask him to make you feel that way even more, if you’re into that”.

A quick train of thoughts passes through your mind, but Myeong's voice snaps you back into reality again.

“You don't have to feel nervous,” she continues. “It’s just sex. It's not like you haven't had it before”.

“Why am I even making such a big deal out of this?” You let out a frustrated sigh, and lean back against your office chair.

“You’re getting too much into your own head, again,” Myeong scolds you. “I’m praying he can get you out of there”.

“We’ll see,” your lips press into a thin line, and the thoughts that were pushed away by Myeong resuface again. “I have to go, my desk is a mess and I need to tidy it up before I leave”.

It’s part true, your desk is a mess. But you don’t think you can organize it in under 10 minutes, let alone do it while thinking about Changbin. So your say your goodbyes, hang up and stare at the glass doors that lead to your office for a bit too long.

What is Changbin like in bed?

You didn’t ask him, but it’s rather obvious he has a couple experiences of his own. You have some too, but none of them are worth telling —just normal sex, with a little bit of foreplay and, luckily, some cuddles in the end. Nothing wrong with that, but your experiences weren't nearly as fascinating as some you've heard over the past years.

The clock on your phone screen captures your attention, and you realize you can't dwell in your own thoughts too much.

18:58.

Despite knowing the password to the door keypad, Changbin waited for you to let him know you were already at the apartment to finally show up, wearing some tight jeans, and a plain black t-shirt.

Technically, you can leave your office now.

Upon arriving home, you opted for taking a shower and wear much more comfortable clothes.

They aren’t sexy, nor luring. They are just your regular pijamas, ones that make you feel comfortable and aren't as awkward as those work skirts that makes you feel like your stomach it's all the way up to your chest.

They are just your pijamas, but Changbin’s gaze and the soft smirk that peeks from the corners of his lips tells you that he likes them.

“Do you want some wine?” You ask him, just as he follows you around the living room.

He gets the sense that you might need a glass, so he agrees. You grab the bottle of wine he brought yesterday, along with two glasses, and join him in the couch, sitting right next to him while leaving the stuff on top of a small coffee table. Not having a whole table as a barrier feels kind of weird now, and you sigh loudly when you take into account how close you really are from him.

“Thank you, by the way,” you mumble, pouring him some wine. “For the dinner, yesterday. I ate it after you left, it was really good”.

He offers you a soft smile, and you hand him the glass. Is this too formal? you start thinking. Why would I be drinking some wine, on a Friday afternoon, with the college student who babysits my son?

But then again, you’re about to get fucked by him too. So moral questionings doesn’t really matter this time.

“You’re welcome,” Changbin coos. “I’d be happy to cook something else for you another time”.

Another time, the words resonate in your head over and over again. Will this happen another time, too? What will things be like on Monday, for example, when he shows up for work? Will things be weird, or will he be casual about it? What happens if you soon realize it was a mistake?

You’re getting too much into your own head, again, so you clear your throat and shake your head.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you, his lips tinted with the cherry color of the wine. The sight makes you want to lean in and kiss him again, to taste the sweet flavor off his lips, but you’re not brave enough to make the first move.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, staring at the glass between your hands. “It’s weird that we both know why you are here”.

Changbin lets out a soft scoff.

“And?”

“It feels odd, you know?” You lick your lips. “I don't know what to say, or where to begin. I'm not rushed to get into it, it's just... I don't know what the fuck to do”.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he reassures you, taking one last sip from the wine before putting his glass on the table again. “Why don’t you leave everything to me, hm?”

You gulp loudly and nod, unsure of what that means. But either way, you feel relieved.

He places his hand on your naked thigh, and then guides it a little bit further up. It’s a suggestive touch, but not obsecene —still, you feel your breath hitching. You don't even bother to try and hide your reaction, because the proud smile in his face tells you that he noticed it.

“Come here,” he whispers, guiding his available hand to softly grip your chin and turning it to face him. He doesn’t give you time to process the action, and just crashes his lips into yours. It starts like a peck, but when you part your lips and invite his tongue in, it turns into something else.

Changbin smiles against your lips, again, a proud smile. You can feel his soft scoff when he does so, right before losing yourself in the kiss. A kiss that tastes like wine and mint, that is making your thighs squeeze together even with his hand almost in between them, and that has you gasping for air when you realice you’re running out of breath.

He lets go of you to breathe, but kisses you right after without losing any time. You don’t get to complain because you’re dying for him to kiss you again, so you just take all his lips are offering you.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this,” he murmurs in between kisses. The hand that was forcing your head against his suddenly leaves the sides of your face and travels all the way to your hips, and you instinctively shift your position on the couch until you’re on top of him.

He kisses you one last time on your lips before descending to your neck and chest, peppering kisses all over your naked skin and nibbling at the flesh of your most sensitive spots. You latch your fingers against his dark locks, pulling him in further as you arch your back.

“Changbin,” you sigh, closing your eyes. He hums in response, and you continue, “it has been a while since I’ve been with someone”.

He smirks proudly against your skin and his cock gets even harder; there is something enticing about you being too unfamiliar with sex these days. Knowing that your ex husband, who you utterly despise now, was the last man to ever touch you, turns him on in unimaginable ways.

He has confidence in knowing that probably no man has ever made you feel the same way he is going to make you feel tonight.

“I don’t know why I am telling you this,” you exhale, your body instinctively grinding against his. You can feel some pressure between your legs, and you get wet just by knowing he is hard. Are you really this touch starved?

“You can tell me anything you want,” Changbin smiles, looking up to you with quite a gaze you hadn't seen before.

You whimper when you feel his lips too close to your breasts, and suddenly the clothes you’re wearing feel too uncomfortable. Not only that, but you take him at his word and your mouth starts talking on its own, without your brain knowing about it. Without making any sense. 

“I touched myself,” you sigh, looking down on him while he sucks the naked skin of your flesh. “When I found the videos, I touched myself while watching them”.

He let out a quiet chuckle, and his cock twitches at the sudden confession.

“Did you come?” his voice is low, and raspier than it usually is, “watching me stroke my cock with your underwear?”

You swallow thickly, loud enough for him to notice it. That makes him bring back the mental note he made yesterday, when he realized how receptive you are to dirty words.

“I bet you did,” he continues, and you feel your skin getting warmer with each thing he says. Not only that, but the way he is groping your ass and hips isn't helping you in keeping quiet.

“Y-yes,” it’s all you can answer before your words get muffle with your whines, and your hips acquire a pace of its own against his. “Fuck”.

“What where you thinking while watching those videos?” He removes one strap of your tank top and lets it hang around your arm, placing a kiss on the place that was occupied by it just now. “Tell me”.

There were plenty of thoughts roaming around your head as you watched every video, but there was one that predominated over the rest.

“I was thinking about you, eating me out,” even saying those words out loud makes you feel flustered, but you really can't begin to care. For some reason, the way he is looking at you just makes you want to tell him more, let him know about all the things you've thought. “I was- really, just thinking about having your face between my legs, kissing me and just- you know”.

His gaze darkens when you tell him that, and the fabric of his jeans against his crotch starts being unbearable. He can't spend any more time without knowing how you actually taste and smell, other than those used panties he has jerked off to.

At the same time, though, he wants to take his time with you. He doesn't want to rush anything. He doesn't want to jump straight into it. He wants to savor it, just like he spent doing it the past months when all he had was your underwear and the faint smell of cologne you always left around the apartment.

“Yeah?” he purrs in a way that makes your whole skin get cover in goosebumps. He sounds so good when he is aroused, you wonder if he sounds this nice when he is being pleasured.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I want- that”.

He stops himself for a while, and looks directly into your eyes.

“Do you want me to taste you?”

You nod almost immediately, and you think it's pathetic but Changbin finds it endearing how desperate you are. You really haven’t been touched in a while, he thinks.

“But first,” he guides his hands to the hems of your tank top, and he pulls it up higher as a way of motioning for you to take it off. You follow compliantly and raise it over your arms, discarding it somewhere next to the couch.

Changbin stares at your breasts, and then makes eye contact with you. He holds a teasing gaze that is making you look away timidly.

“Pretty,” he whispers, tracing the lace with the tip of his index finger.  “You wore this for me?”

You know he doesn't mean to embarrass you, but the way he is bringing it up makes you feel shy. What else were you supposed to wear? The sports bra and high-briefs you wear on a regular?

His fingers graze against the hems of the short’s waistband and he pulls them down slightly, only to find a pair of laced panties that match the bra. He chuckles softly, but cockily, and that only makes your skin get even hotter.

“Of course you did,” he murmurs, with such a teasing tone that you're not sure if you like it or you hate it. “What else have you done for me, hm?”

 You stare at him while he sneaks a hand inside your pijamas, between the fabric of your shorts and your underwear. Two of his fingers come in contact with your clothed pussy, sliding them along your slit while he quietly groans.

“All of this?” he asks you, getting his hand out of your shorts. His fingers are glistening underneath the dim lights of the living room, and you’re surprised at how wet his digits are —you can’t recall a moment in which someone has made your body react like that. “Just for me?”

He loses no time into guiding said fingers into his mouth, he loses no time guiding said fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around them and sucking them off while letting out a soft groan. There's a faint taste of you in them, but it is not enough. Nothing will ever be enough other than tasting you himself, to drag his tongue against your pussy and have you coming all over himself.

So, with a quick movement, he switches the position yet again and sits you right on the couch, kneeling in front of you while he drags your shorts and underwear off of you.  

No matter how many times Changbin fantasized about this sight, none of those thoughts compared to the real you. The one in front of him right now, with his legs spread and his cunt soaked.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly and, for a second, fear fear washes upon him. What if he gets to finally taste you, and he loses control of himself? What if he comes in his pants right there? He is nearly about to come untouched, and he fears that your taste might trigger his release.

He wraps both of his arms under your thighs and pull you closer to him, making you slide against the couch in a much more comfortable position for you both.

“Is this what you thought about when you were touching yourself?” Changbin asks you, feeling his breath too close to your core that you’re desperate to pull him against it. “Having me between your legs like this?”

You nod eagerly, anticipating the contact of his wet lips against your pussy. He is so close, you can practically feel his nose brushing against your clit.

“Please,” you whimper, your hips grinding ever so slightly against nothing.You’re desperate for his touch, and he is just as desperate to touch you.

He looks at you, and then at the sight in front of him. Never in a thousand years Changbin thought he would have you all for himself. You, the woman of his wildest dreams, the mother of the kid he babysits as a side gig.

Changbin would be lying if the whole age gap situation didn't turn him on even more. It's not particularly the reason why he got so fixated on you, but it was definitely something that he couldn't ignore. You being older than him only fueled his desire to pleasure you, to prove to you that he is better than every man you can think of.

However, he thinks you're conflicted by it. The age gap. You were so reluctant to fall into his charms that you thought it had everything to do with the fact that he was way younger than you. Which partly, it was.

But truth is that the whole thing turns you on too, despite you trying to deny it to yourself.

“You smell so fucking good,” he whispers underneath his breath, digging his finger tips on the flesh of your thighs. Your heart is going at a thousand miles per hour, and you are impatient to feel him against you. So impatient you latch your fingers onto his hair, and guide him even closer to you, until his nose finally makes contact with your sensitive bud.

“Please,” you beg weakly, one more time.

And the next thing you feel, is his tongue lapping at your slit while the tip of his nose presses against your clit even harder, making you feel a weird but pleasant stimulation by doing so.

“God,” he groans against you, gripping your legs harsher. You can hear him moaning and hissing against your pussy, devouring it, licking and kissing every inch of it. He is kind of messy with it, but you adore it. “You taste- fuck, you’re so good”.

You arch your back against the couch, tightening your legs on either side of him as much as the grip he has on you allows you to.

“I want you to come all over me,” Changbin tells you, spitting all over his fingers and your pussy. “Show me how much you’ve thought about this”.

He then sinks his middle and ring finger inside your cunt, feeling your warmth and the way your walls clench around him. You’ve fucked yourself with your fingers, countless of times. But they can’t compare to the way his feel, how much thicker they are, how better they fill you up.

“Shit,” you murmur, furrowing your eyebrows and closing your eyes when Changbin’s tongue makes contact again with your clit, licking it and softly sucking on it while his fingers. “Just- like that”.

The noise his fingers make every time he thrusts them inside you, and your moans combined with his only send you closer to the edge, reminding you who is the man between your legs and how deliciously he is wrecking you.  

“Who would’ve thought we were going to end up like this, hm?,” Changbin groans, staring right at you while sucking on your clit. “With you practically grinding your pussy against my face in the living room of your apartment?”

You moan at his words, and keep on bucking your hips against him.

“Did your ex husband ever did this for you, right here?” he asks, and when he feels you clenching almost aggressively around his fingers he realices he’s just discovered something. “Did he taste you like this?”

Because of his job babysitting Jihun, Changbin is fully aware who Kyungho is. They know each other personally, and you've seen them engage in small talk every time Kyungho comes to pick up Jihun to spend the weekend with him.

You don’t see the point in thinking about your ex husband right now, but you find it hot when Changbin is the one to bring his name up.

“No,” you whine, gripping his hair with one of your hands while the other grasps the edge of the couch. “He didn’t”.

“Was he good?” Changbin asks, tilting his head at you. “Was he better than me?”

You shake your head, desperate to come, “n-no”.

“No? He wasn’t this good?” There’s a cocky tone in his voice, and you love it. You love how confident he is getting now that the topic is on the table, and because of how honest you’re really being. It is definitely true —your ex husband wasn’t this good at eating your pussy.

“No!” you gasp, feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer with each word that falls from his lips.

“Who would’ve thought,” he chuckles lowly, offering you a tempting smile, “that men your age can’t make you feel like I can”.

“F-fuck, Changbin,” you feel a spark of electricity that starts on your core and drifts all the way to your feet, making you tremble underneath his hold. You’re almost there, but for some reason you’re trying to hold it in.

As if you wanted to live in this feeling forever, in the sight of Changbin’s dark eyes staring right at you with a desire that you haven’t been able to find anywhere else, in any other man.

“Come for me,” he tells you, fucking you even faster with his fingers. “Make a mess, I need you wet for my cock”.

Him and his fucking dirty talk. It leaves you with no time to process anything, as you’re now coming undone for him, riding his fingers and grinding your hips against his palm while you try to hold tight to the couch, doing everything you can to endure the stimulation.

“Don’t run for me,” Changbin groans, forcing your legs open and holding your right in place. “I know you can take it”.

A sharp, painful moan escapes your lips and your body jolts right in its place, with him still between your legs. Waves and waves of pleasure wash upon you, debilitating you and making you feel dizzy. This is the hardest you've come, ever, and there's no doubt of that.

“C-changbin,” you whine, matching the slow pace of his thrusts with the movements of your hips. You're descending now from your high, and you're again looking forward to feel that ecstasy again.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, smearing your wetness with his fingers. He gives you a soft slap to your pussy that makes your body shakes, and he smiles at how overstimulated you are. “You’re so wet, my cock is going to slide right inside you”.

Your pussy clenches around thin air at the idea.

“N-not yet,” you tell him, and kiss him when he hovers over you to place a peck on your lips. He kisses you deeply again, fucking your mouth with his tongue, allowing you to taste your own orgasm from him.

“Not yet?” Changbin purrs, biting your lower lip and pulling it just enough for you to whine.

“I want to suck you off”.

As desperate as he is to bury his cock inside you, who is he to say no? It’s comically how it all happens too fast, but in the blink of an eye you’ve already swaped positions and he is now sitting on top of the mess you made on the couch, with his legs spread and his jeans unbuckled just enough to free his clothed bulge.

You kneel in front of him, and your pair of curious hands trace the silhouette of his erection over his underwear. With ease, you lower his clothes and free his hard cock, that is already leaking with precum and it’s warm to the touch. There are several, prominant veins that start at the base and fade right near the tip.

Fuck, it’s making your mouth water.

“Good enough?” he asks you, cockily. Perhaps you’re giving yourself away by the way you stare at him like it’s the first time you ever see a cock —it might be, because you can’t think of any other that’s just as appealing as his.

You just nod and grab it by the base, gripping it tightly while you guide your mouth from the top and all along it. It’s taking him a lot of effort not to bust right then and there, with your lips wrapped around his tip while your hand squeeze the base and part of his testicles.

“Swirl your tongue,” he purrs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Get it nice and wet, remember I’m fucking you with it later”.

Like Changbin, you prefer it messy. So you do as he asks you to, you spit on it and smear your own drool all over its length, not caring if you make a mess in the middle.

“You said it's been a long time since you've been with someone,” he groans, kicking his head back and closing his eyes. “But you're still so good at sucking cock. You didn't forget about that?"

It catches you by surprise, but you find yourself getting wetter at the comment. He is not necessarily implying anything, but the tint of humiliation it carries makes you aroused.

“I like that,” you gasp, breathing for air after having all of himself inside you. “I like it when you talk to me like that. It makes me feel kind of humiliated and I like it”.

It isn’t a shocker that his words have an effect on you —yesterday Changbin noticed how weak you are for dirty talk. However, it is a shocker how you trust him with that information, indirectly asking him to do it more.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” he chuckles.  

Perhaps this conversation should’ve taken place earlier, when you two were having a glass of wine. You decided to just go for it, without talking about preferences, likes or dislikes.

It’s not too late to get to know each other, you think. Even when his cock is deep inside your throat and he already made you come once tonight.

“I’m just figuring it out,” you tell him, smacking the tip of his cock against your tongue. Had it been any other time, or any other setting, you probably wouldn’t have had the courage to talk openly about this. “There’s a lot of things I wish to try”.

His eyebrows are furrowed, and his half-lidded eyes are staring right at yours, with his lips parted and a couple of quiet groans escaping through them.

“Tell me about them,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You stroke him softly, coating all his length with your drool and his precum. You can feel his cock twitching inside your fist, and you can also feel how his body spasms every time you squeeze him a bit too hard. You can tell he is close to coming, and you truly wouldn’t mind.

The thing is, you can’t wait to feel him inside you. So you wish to edge him just a bit because there’s something you want.

“Creampies,” you murmur, smiling shyly, while jerking him off. “Not just… creampies but- I want you to come inside me. Watch how it leaks out, knowing it was you who did it”.

You know you’ve hit a weak spot in Changbin when his hips buck against your fist, and he lets out a quiet whimper that shows just how needy he is for you.

He has thought about it, an insane amount of times. But Changbin isn’t in it just for the sake of a creampie, no. He wants to fill you up, completely. To hear you begging for his release, to wrap your legs around his waist and prevent him from pulling out.

Would that be a bit too much to bring up the first time you fuck?

“I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispers, caressing the sides of your face before putting his thumb inside your mouth. “I want to fuck you right now”.

He stands up from the couch and you follow, feeling a bit confused about the sudden movements. You spent the past half hour or so sucking each other off in this couch, you thought you’d be fucking there too. But it seems as if he prefers a true bed over a couch, and you too, so you don’t say anything.

“This angle is better, right?” Changbin asks you once you’re in your room.

“Huh?”

“The camera,” he replies, grabbing you by your hips and pulling you closer to him. “its placed right above the television, in front of your bed isn’t it?”

You blink a couple of times, trying to understand what he’s all about. Perhaps you're too dizzy from your orgasm and the way his taste lingers on the tip of your tongue, but you're not following him. Still, you nod because he is right —the camera is right in front of your bed.

“I want to fuck you in front of it,” Changbin murmurs, and when the realization hits you can feel your knees going numb. “I want you to go back to this tape when you feel like having my cock inside those holes of you, and I want you to touch yourself watching us”.

You swallow thickly and feel your nipples hardening against his chest, whimpering when you feel the slightest stimulation.

He gives you one last kiss before guiding you into your bed, laying down as you watch how he strips for you.

The way his muscles keep on flexing as he takes off his clothes is hypnotizing. You can see every inch of his soft skin, every curve, every flexed part that demands your attention. You want him to fuck you while he’s hugging you tightly, to trap you between his arms and not allowing you to move.

You want him to use his strength to overpower you, to pin you down and fuck you mercilessly against your own bed.

A bed that you once shared with your ex husband, a bed that will now remind you of that time you fucked with a college student, way younger than you.

“Come here,” he whispers, grabbing your legs and just sliding you over the bed. He then crawls on top of you, positioning himself between your legs while you spread them wide open for him.

God, how much your body turns him on.

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck when he leans over you. “Please don’t use a condom”.

 He bites his lower lip when he hears those words from you, and his mind spirals again into this silly fetish of him. Impregnation.

“You’ve wanted this all along, don’t you?” Changbin asks you, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time you think about me fucking you raw, letting me come inside you”.

Embarrassingly enough, it isn’t.

“I thought you said yesterday I was too young for you,” he pouts, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. Again, you shouldn’t feel aroused when you’re reminded about the elephant in the room, but you are. “Do you still think the same?”

 “Jesus,” you sigh, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t remind me”.

“Why not?” he teases you, leaving quick pecks on your cheeks and jaw. “You can’t accept the fact that it’s me who is making you feel this good? Someone that apparently is too young for you, but just made you come harder than your ex husband ever did?”

Again, you grind your hips when he says that.

“I’m starting to think you like me bringing him up,” he chuckles. “Every time I say something like that, you get more desperate”.

“It’s- not that,” you try to explain, arching your back against him. “I don’t- know why it turns me on when you say things like that. When you remind me is you who’s between my legs, someone who is not supposed to”.

“Someone who is not supposed to?” he murmurs, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheeks, along your jaw and into the crook of your neck. “Miss, I know we've thought about this since the day you hire me for the babysitter position”.

The low tone of his voice, and the way he whispers such things against your ear is making you go insane. You need him inside you, and you need him to stop talking if you wish to elongate your orgasm as much as you can.

“Or are you going to deny it?” You don’t answer, which only proves him right. “Don’t go around saying we shouldn’t be fucking, because that’s something you’ve wanted since we met”.

It's only after he finishes when you feel a harsh, sharp thrust of his hips around you, and a sudden stretch that's both painful and pleasant at the same time. He sinks his hips against yours, and his cock bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck,” you groan, digging your nails deeper into the flesh of his biceps.

“You know, that pussy of yours did a good job at coming,” he groans through gritted teeth. “It slipped right inside”.

You moan at his words and spread your legs further, wrapping them around his hips. Changbin gives you a couple of times to get used to his girth, and only starts moving when you ask him to.

“It feels so-,” you want to speak, but it’s practically impossible —you’re too distracted by the feeling of his cock stretching you out. “Shit, you feel so hard inside me”.

“I bet all the other dicks you've had before didn't fill you right,” he groans, thrusting his cock iinside you. “but don't worry, you can have mine whenever you feel like having something worthy between your legs”.

You love how cocky he turns in bed.

“Right there,” you gasp when his cock reaches a particular spot inside your pussy. That spot, that no one but you and his fingers has found before. “Fuck, f-fuck, right there, right there”.

He keeps fucking you for a couple more minutes until he starts feeling your walls clenching around him, similar to when he was fucking you with his fingers. He knows you’re close, and there’s nothing he wants more than for you to come all over his cock.

“I can feel you squeezing my cock,” Changbin hisses, forcing your chin to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come again”.

“S-shit,” you cry. “Yes, f-fuck I’m so close”.

“Already?” he asks you, holding your chin firmly. “Is my cock that good?”

You don’t know what to answer, but his cock it’s the best you’ve ever taken. So maybe yes, his cock is that good.

“And to think that you almost reject me,” he murmurs, his dark, half-lidded eyes fixed on yours. “Now you don’t care that I’m younger than you, do you? Because every time I remind you of it, you clench even harder around me, practically begging for my cum”.

You moan loudly, shamelessly. He is right, and he has been right all along.

“I didn’t think you would give in to me,” Changbin groans against your skin, “but I can’t believe all it took me was to jerk off with your underwear for you to realice that you wanted me”.

It’s embarrassing. But nothing far from the truth.

“I’m- close,” you whisper, feeling the rush of pleasure spreading all over your body. “Please- keep, keep fucking me like this”.

“Open your eyes,” he tells you right after leaving a wet kiss on your cheek. “I want you to look at me when you come”.

It’s difficult when the pleasure is too overwhelming, but you still try.

“If you close them, I’ll pull out,” he wanrs you. “And I know that’s not what you want, so you better look at me while you come. I want you to remember who made you feel this good”.

It doesn’t take you long to reach your orgasm, especially after all the things he said. You grasp onto his shoulders tightly, while your body trembles violently underneath him.

You try so hard to keep your eyes open that they end up rolling to the back of your head, but that sight only makes Changbin’s cock spasm inside your pussy just at the same time you clench around him. He is getting really close, and the way you’re moaning and crying for him is only pushing him further to the edge.

“Look at me,” he demands, right after you’re done reaching your high and collapsing onto the bed. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to pull out, you want him to fill you up, to give you all that he has been saving for you.

You stare at him with dazed and glossy eyes, waiting to feel his warmth spreading all along your tummy.

You need him to come inside you, and you need him to know how badly you want it.

“Please,” you beg, grabbing both sides of his face with your hands. “Please come inside me, Changbin”.

The overstimulation is becoming painful, but you’re willing to overcome it as long as he rewards you in the way you want to be rewarded.

“Promise me you’ll keep it all inside you,” Changbin says, his skin glistening in sweat while his dark locks stick to his forehead. “If it leaks out, I’ll fuck it back inside you again”.

“Yes,” you moan, arching your back and pressing your chest against his. “I’ll keep it inside me. Please, just- come for me”.

It’s your weak pleas what really triggers his orgasm. That, and the promise you just made. How you’re willing to keep it inside you, even while knowing the risks of it.

He comes a lot, you can feel it even inside you. He groans, and pants as he comes off his high, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while he tries to stabilize his breathing. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasms, and feeling him buried deep inside you while he shoots his sticky arousal isn’t doing any favors to the painful overstimulation, but it feels good.

It makes you crave more of him. Even when he is still inside your pussy.

It feels nice to be full. And you wonder when you’re going to get the chance to be fucked by him again.

“Fuck,” Changbin sighs, Pulling out of you delicately, trying hard not to stimulate you further. You whine when you feel the sudden absence of him, and he gives you a cocky smirk. “Miss me already?”

You get up with your elbows and arms against the mattress as you stare right down to you crotch. You can't see it, but you can feel his cum leaking out of you, staining your bed sheets.

“Thought I made you a promise,” you smile, teasingly. “Your cum is leaking out, and I don’t see you fucking it back again”.

You’re surely going to be the death of him, but he has fantasized about you for so long that he is conditioned to get hard any time he sees anything that has to do with you.

Good thing he has great stamina.

And that he is going to fuck you sooner than you’d expect him.

If you wish to support my work further, you can leave a reblog/ask/ comment. I also have a ko-fi, in case you want to (and are able to) leave me a tip. As a broke, college student I will highly appreciate it (the job hunting it's definitely not going anywhere, anytime soon. I'm doing my best though!). As I'm based in México, even a dollar helps me tons.

[reidsaurora]

"Hot Chocolate, White Lies" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: Aaron might be a pain in the ass to shop for, but at least he's cute.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader (Reader does wear makeup)

Word Count: 1,444

Content Warning: mild swearing, mentions of food, i think that's it!

Extra Notes: i took creative liberties with the things featured in this fic, sue me (also sorry for the sh!tty summary, it will happen again) // icon in collage is by @catsadams

Beta Read By: @theghouligan 🫶🏻

Originally Written: 10/12/2023 through 10/19/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

There were many things you were unsure of, but one thing you did know was that autumn was your absolute favorite time of the whole year.

The mornings when you were both home from cases usually started slow and sweet. You'd wake up ten minutes past your alarm, Aaron's chapped lips the only thing strong enough to awaken you from your slumber. You'd press to know why he allowed you to be late, but he'd just insist, "We have nowhere important to be. Besides, you just looked so peaceful. How could I ever wake you?"

When you finally rolled out of bed, his hands would be on your waist, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck as the two of you made your way into the kitchen. You'd start on a pan of French toast while Aaron put on the coffee, stealing quick kisses as the two of you glided around the space, each of you already anticipating the other's every move.

Then, you'd eat together in the breakfast nook, the sunlight glowing all around him, somehow making his five-o'clock shadow and bedhead seem ethereal. The conversation would flow from topic to topic as easily as water flowed downstream. But this particular day, there was one topic Aaron seemed to be actively avoiding.

It was a week from his birthday, and while he knew better than to tell you not to get him anything, he would still put his foot down about making a big deal out of the situation. If one person found out, then they'd all find out, and truly, his only wish every year was to spend his birthday with the person he loved most, not the entirety of the FBI. He'd much rather have take-out and a cheap bottle of wine in the comfort of his own home than hors d'oeuvres and expensive champagne with people he hardly knew.

Still, you'd tried all morning to get him to crack and tell you what he wanted for his birthday. But his response was always the same: "You're the only thing I need, my love."

One somewhat pointless conversation and a plate of French toast later, the two of you were headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. He'd head into the bathroom to shave, and you'd steal glances of him as you got dressed in the bedroom. Then he'd do the same, eyeing you with absolute love and adoration as you applied layers of makeup he still insisted you didn't need, even after years of marriage.

Soon enough, you'd arrive at your favorite little bookstore and cafe. Any onlooker would immediately be able to tell just how in love Aaron was with you, sporting a matching sweater you'd clearly picked out and his hand only parting from yours to open the door, which he insisted on doing any time you went anywhere together.

"Alright, I'm setting you free," he joked, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Don't cause too much chaos in the romance aisle, okay?"

You giggled, leaning up to kiss him on the lips for once. "I'll only squeal if they have anything signed by my favorite author."

And with that, he was headed off to the cafe side of the building, going to collect a cup of your favorite hot chocolate. Most people preferred to drink coffee while they shopped, but to you, nothing beat curling the sleeves of your sweater around your hands and sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Even after years of coming to this place, you still hadn't figured out how they made it taste infinitely better than other hot chocolate you'd ever had.

Once you were absolutely sure Aaron was in line at the cafe, you were bee-lining in the opposite direction of the romance aisle and over to the literary fiction section.

While you'd originally told Aaron you wanted to go to the bookstore under the guise of wanting to see if they had a copy of a new release you'd been excited about, you secretly had other plans. If he wasn't going to tell you what he wanted, you'd take matters into your own hands.

You peered around one of the shelves to make sure he wasn't looking, letting out a quick sigh of relief as you spotted him reading something on his phone.

You had all of about three minutes to find a couple books that he hadn't read, which was no small feat. Nearly every second of Aaron's free time was spent devouring a novel, and while you loved that he had found a hobby he truly enjoyed, it also made it devastatingly hard to buy him new books.

In roughly two and a half minutes, you'd managed to find three books that you were sure Aaron would love. Then, you were all but sprinting over to the romance section and grabbing the first book you saw, reading the back cover nonchalantly as your husband walked up.

You were reading the back of some novel about two rival scientists falling in love when Aaron got back with two cups of hot chocolate and a sugar cookie the size of your face. "Your drink, my dear," he said, holding out one of the cups.

You took the cup from him, inhaling that first anticipated sip of the warm liquid. "Thank you."

"You found anything interesting yet?" he asked, a hand meeting the small of your back.

You shook your head, placing the scientist romance novel back on the shelf and picking up another book with a beautiful pink cover. "Nothing much. No signed copies so you'll be glad to know I won't be disturbing the other readers with my squeals."

He chuckled, a deep sound that made butterflies go off in your stomach every time you heard it. "Thank you, I'm sure it's appreciated," he kidded. He took the tote from your shoulder, immediately registering the weight of the bag. "Nothing much?" he inquired.

Before he could open the bag to look inside, you were swatting his hand and snatching it away. "It's… an encyclopedia I promised Reid I'd get for him if I saw it."

Aaron cocked an eyebrow at you. "Since when do you go shopping for Reid?" he inquired, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue.

You wracked your brain for some kind of response that sounded at least halfway truthful. "He hasn't been able to find it anywhere and he knew we liked coming here, so he asked me to check next time we came."

That skeptical brow of his only raised itself higher. "Well, there's one flaw with your story and that's that I'm a profiler and I know when you're lying to me."

Before you could form a rebuttal, he was taking the bag out of your hands again. "Aaron, don't-" you barely got out the words before he was holding up the copy of The Midnight Library.

His brows furrowed as he held up the book, examining the cover for a moment. "This isn't a romance."

You let out an exasperated breath at his examination. "That's kind of the point, Aaron."

"Well, I thought we came to find a copy of that new book you've been looking for."

You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a small huff of amusement. "I suppose I should come clean. I did lie to you."

Aaron's mouth flew open in fake shock. "No! I never would've guessed."

"Not about that," you grumbled, slapping his arm. "About why we're here in the first place. I wanted to find you something for your birthday."

His features wrinkled in embarrassment, a small sigh escaping between his lips. "Well, now I look like an ass."

You were inclined to agree, he did kind of look like an ass. But he was a cute ass and you wouldn't want him any other way. Hands flying up to his cheeks, you pulled him down for a long and soft kiss. His wrinkles of slight mortification melted away as he settled into your touch, the scents of hot chocolate and new books taking over each of your senses.

Aaron was the first to pull away, moving his kiss from your lips to your forehead, before meeting you with an expression filled with admiration. "You-"

"-'Didn't have to get me anything.' I know," you finished for him. "But these ones seem really interesting and I thought that maybe we could read them together."

His mouth curved upward into that smile of his that was so sweet, so loving, so… Aaron. "If I'm going to share a book, I'm always going to hope it's with you."

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @namorswhore @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @bbbbbbbbbbbbbbl @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahargrove @cwritesforfun @maelartasch @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin.

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: as corroded coffin frontman, eddie munson regards himself as perhaps the most important person in hollywood. that's until he meets you — america’s favourite starlet.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: adult language & mature themes, porn with a rather angsty plot, general heavy petting / kissing, teasing, fingering, quite rough yet protected p in v sex, borderline overstimulation, eddie is a little dom, light praise kink, dirty talk, use of pet names & very slight degradation, mentions of alcohol & drug consumption, mentions of blood (reader unintentionally hurts herself), emotional hurt / topics of guilt — if i missed anything, pls let me know! also, not proofread.

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

“Absolutely not.”

Impossible to read between the lines with those two simple words, but if anyone dared to try regardless, the absolute disapproval and disdain in Eddie’s tone of voice stopped them from doing so. At least that’s what the Corroded Coffin frontman hoped.

It took a lot to catch Eddie Munson off guard. Given everything he’s endured in his life, nothing surprised him anymore ‘cause he made sure to be prepared for every single scenario. A little neurotic? Yes. Needed for his own piece of mind? Abso-fucking-lutely. 

Obviously there had been exceptions over the years — especially being in the limelight with easy access to substances that weren’t too good for his health and nothing but extensive amounts of cash to burn. The other guys had invested their paychecks, Gareth even started a family. Eddie on the other hand, well, he bought a mansion in Beverly Hills and threw parties every night of the week.

The heavy drinking clouded his judgement and damaged his liver, but Eddie still kept tabs on his inner circle and made sure to be informed of any moves the label was trying to make before official announcements.

Which is why when he stumbled into the recording studio an hour later than scheduled, extremely hungover and with an unlit cigarette between his teeth, he really thought he misheard the news announced by their long-time manager, Marianne.

“A feature. The label wants it, she wants it. Honestly, Eddie, no point in fighting it. It’s a done deal.”

Marianne’s words were ringing in his ears. To make matters worse, the whole band apparently knew about this. For a long time, at that. They just collectively chose not to tell him out of fear of his “overreaction”, as Gareth put it.

“Well, I don’t want it.” Eddie grumbles. A reaction worthy of a little kid more so than a famous rockstar. “I refuse.”

Jeff clears his throat, glancing between the group before settling his eyes on Eddie.

“Man, it’s just one song. Not like she’s been asked to permanently join the band,” he tries to be the voice of reason. 

Eddie just scoffs. He’s on the couch, eyes closed and hand pressed to his forehead with a third cigarette in between his fingers. He refused to believe this was happening.

“A feature and a music video,” Marianne chimes.

Jeff sighs. “You’re really not helping your case here.”

But their manager just shrugs. “There’s no case to help. Like I said, it’s a done deal. Y’all are doing this feature with America’s favourite starlet and y’all are gonna have smiles on your fucking faces in the process.” Marianne states and what she says, usually goes. “Are you hearing me, Eddie?”

Usually.

“I ain’t doing shit.”

“Eddie—” Gareth feels like it’s his turn to help the situation, but he just gets rudely interrupted.

“Shut up, Gareth! Everyone, just shut the fuck up!” Eddie’s outburst accompanies him jumping up onto his feet. He’s angry, clearly. Glaring at the group as if he’s endured the worst possible betrayal. “Last I fucking checked, this was my fucking band! I have a say in what’s a done deal and this is not one of those things!”

The boys don’t speak. They look to Marianne who seemed to always know how to calm Eddie down. She had this aura about her. Almost motherly, even though she couldn’t have been more than five years older than the Corroded Coffin frontman — an estimate as she’s never told them her actual age.

Marianne crosses the studio until she’s standing toe to toe with the curly-haired singer. He’s towering over her, but she’s got the upper hand — as always. 

First, she takes the cigarette he was holding and takes a drag, crossing her arms while blowing the smoke away from his face. The silence extends from seconds to minutes, almost as if she’s daring Eddie to continue. 

He doesn’t. So she clears her throat.

“Now that we’re done with the temper tantrum,” Marianne says calmly, “At risk of sounding like a complete and utter bitch, Eddie, my darlin’, you have lost your right to call this band yours after the last stunt you pulled cost the label thousands of dollars in damages. Not to mention the absolute nightmare it’s been to keep it out of the stupid tabloids.”

“I apologised—”

“Thousands of dollars, Eddie. Your apology ain’t worth shit.”

Marianne walks over to an ashtray and puts out the reminisce of the cigarette. She briefly glances between the rest of the band before settling her gaze on Eddie once again.

“The people actually in charge think this collaboration has the potential of being an absolute hit. A song played for generations to come and for once, I actually agree with them.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He knows deep down he has lost the argument, so he had nothing left to add.

“Guys, you gotta know y’all are my priority and I would never do anything to jeopardise your career. Ever.” Marianne reassures. The boys all say they know. All of them apart from Eddie.

He’s back on the couch. Sitting with his legs apart, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Sulking and wishing he hadn’t forgotten his pouch of pre-rolled joints ‘cause he could really use one right about now.

When no one else speaks, Marianne heads for the door. 

“She’ll be here tomorrow. Please be on time.”

That last part was aimed at Eddie, who in that moment lifts his head to address his manager one more time before she leaves.

“I have a question,” his tone of voice is cold, understandably so. When Marianne doesn’t protest, he continues. “How come America’s pride and joy wants to sing a song with a band often accused of devil worship?”

A smile Eddie can’t really decipher circles his manager’s lips.

“Guess you’ll just have to ask her in person.”

-

When a person is repeatedly told they are meant for incredible things, they may grow up with a skewed vision of life. 

Thankfully, the only person that’s ever believed in you that much was your Nana and it was pretty hard to take her seriously considering her history — a lady who after an accidental pregnancy in her early-twenties, joined and later escaped a cult, then conned her way into marrying a Wall Street suit-man, before getting hooked on pills he was prescribed for some back injury he had. 

The man died before he could divorce her, leaving Nana his small fortune and a property in Greenwich Village. You didn’t even know his real name since every time she’s told the story she used a different one, and also changed other minor details.

So you never thought twice about her constant, “You’re going to be a star one day, baby girl.”. In retrospect, you should have. Perhaps it would have prepared you for the world of fame and fortune you were so briskly thrown into.

“Mom, please don’t fill her head with jargon. She’s just going to end up disappointed.”

That’s not to say your parents weren’t also supportive of your dreams. They were, although they believed them to be much smaller at scale, a nurse perhaps, an astronaut at best. Definitely not a popstar sensation and America’s sweetheart.

Your parents met at a charity function your Nana was a co-chair at and instantly clicked. Love at first sight, is how it was described in the paper for their engagement announcement not even a month later. Married shortly after and their first baby was born exactly a year later. Billy Wilder couldn’t write that shit even if he tried.

You always wanted to experience that kind of love.

The longing you endured every time you saw your parents interact was the reason you started writing poetry. Words a little too deep for a ten-year old girl to have actually experienced, but they felt right. By the time you were old enough to actually pursue a romantic relationship, you filled countless notebooks with poems that had actually turned into lyrics after your Nana encouraged to sponsor your piano lessons at age twelve and later guitar.

Ironic, really. Not meant to believe in your own potential success, but destined to think your happiness depended on somebody else.

Shortly after your twenty-first birthday, your Nana asked you to perform at one of her functions. A simple wish you had gratified many times before. 

“But you only sing the covers, okay? The material in your notepads is reserved for when you’re famous.” Nana would request, mainly ‘cause she liked when you sang Dusty Springfield.

This particular event started out like every other. What you didn’t know however, in the crowd, amongst the usual New York elite, were a few agents and talent scouts your Nana specifically invited to see you perform.

By the end of the night, you had a signed record deal. 

A week later, you were in the studio.

Lucky doesn’t begin to describe how you felt at that time. Although knowing your Nana, luck had nothing to do with it.

After the release of your debut single, you rocketed into overnight stardom. Quickly charting in various top lists, only proving your Nana had always been right. As a result, the late 80s were in fact a blur. The years were spent shooting music videos and various magazine covers, doing TV and radio interviews, touring, all on top of releasing more music. Aside from the casual hookup every now and again, carefully concealed with an NDA to preserve your image, finding love took a backburner. 

By the 1990s, you’d gone from being America’s sweetheart to a worldwide phenomenon.

It was at that point in time you remembered why you started writing poems in the first place. Completely by accident, as these things usually go.

While your life remained in New York, given your profession, you often travelled to Los Angeles. Late August of 1992, to be a bit more precise, there was this pool party you really had no business attending.

Holly — your makeup artist, close friend, and permanent plus one — used her perfectly manicured finger to stir the melting ice-cubes at the bottom of her glass. She said something about getting a refill, but you barely registered. Simply nodded at her words before pressing the glass you were holding to your lips. Your focus was somewhere else. Rather on someone else.

As Holly stood, you reach for her forearm and motion your head in the direction you wanted her to look in.

“Who’s that?” A simple question that ended up changing the remainder of your life.

Holly smirked. She turned back to you and you forced yourself to look away from the person in question, meeting your friends eyes instead. 

“Seriously?”

You furrowed your brows at her reaction, as if to say you really had no idea, and her gaze widened slightly when she realised you weren’t kidding.

“That’s Eddie Munson. Corroded Coffin, remember I played you some of their songs? Anyway, this is his house, his party.”

With that, she took the half-empty drink from my grasp and walked away.

Eddie Munson, the name suited him, at least at face value. You had heard of Corroded Coffin before, but their music wasn’t really your style, hence why you never really bothered to learn anything more about them. Yet now, here you were, wishing you had cared a little more in the past ‘cause perhaps you’d have the courage to walk up to their frontman.

Eddie wore a black bandana, tied loosely only to shield him from the sun as his brown locks draped over his bare shoulders. A wide collection of ink art covered almost every inch of the skin on his arms and chest, legs too, at least the parts that weren’t covered by ripped denim shorts. There was a cigarette between his lips and it remained in position even while he was laughing. He was pretty. Judging by the crowd of girls around him, you weren’t the only one to notice.

Exhaling softly, you abandoned your spot on one of the lounge chairs and embarked on a mission to find Holly, or at least something else to drink. The back door to the house is open, so without really thinking, you slipped inside, straight into the kitchen.

Pristine. The entire space. Almost as if no one's ever cooked here, which now that you knew the owner, made sense. Not to completely judge a book by its cover, but Eddie didn’t look like the type of guy who enjoyed cooking all that much.

“The house is off limits.” 

A deep voice startled you. Jumping in your spot, you hit a corner of the stone centre island as you turned to address the person who walked in. Oh shit.

Eddie Munson’s eyes locked onto your frame, now that you are facing him fully. He licked his lips rather shamelessly as his gaze travelled the length of your bare legs and continued upwards until it reached your own. A shiver ran down your spine in the process ‘cause even though you were practically fully dressed, you felt completely naked.

“Sorry,” you were quick to apologise, “I was just looking for my friend.”

“The house is off limits,” Eddie repeated as he took a few steps closer.

“Again, I’m sorry. I really was just looking for someone,” you said and it was the truth, whether he believed it or now. “What are— What are you doing?”

“You’re bleeding.”

You glanced down at where his ring-clad fingers now met your skin, a tissue paper you didn’t even realise he grabbed, wrapped between them. He wiped slowly. His touch was soft, gentle even, which was surprising to you given his demeanour. 

“Wow, yeah. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break into your house and then bleed in your kitchen.”

Eddie chuckled at your words. “You apologise a lot. Is that part of this act they have you doin’ or is it genuine?”

“Act?”

He nodded then straightened his posture. He tossed the dirty tissue to the side before taking your hand and leading you out of the kitchen. The way your fingers aligned together quite perfectly should’ve come with a warning sign, but you didn’t really think about that in the moment, more concerned with the fact he was pulling you away from the party.

“Where are we going?”

“Bathroom. Can’t have you bleeding out in my kitchen, sweetheart.” Eddie joked lightheartedly. “Plus wouldn’t want anyone taking a sneaky picture of us. Could start a bunch of nasty rooms. Good for my career, not so much yours.”

“Because of my act?”

“You get it.”

The master bedroom, you assume, is a lot larger in comparison to yours. A lot darker too, though that’s a given considering your opposite styles. Eddie was careful to lock the door behind the two of you before pointing to the bathroom and following after you.

“Sit.”

You obliged without question, positioning yourself on the sink. Eddie failed to conceal a ‘cause he didn’t think you’d do as you were told without putting up at least a bit of a fight. After all, he was a stranger with a reputation for doing ungodly things when alone with girls, but with your legs dangling off the edge, you didn’t seem tense or scared. In fact, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say you were quite comfortable and he liked it. So with a smile still circling his lips, he began his search for the first aid kit he knew he saw here last.

“Why do you think it’s an act?”

Eddie glanced at you briefly. There is a sense of urgency in your question, almost as if his answer, his opinion, actually mattered to you. Which it did. For whatever reason, his response had the potential to hurt you. If he thought you weren’t genuine, it would hurt you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you want my honesty.”

You half-scoffed. “Actually, I don’t remember the last time someone was actually honest with me about anything relating to my career.”

The answer shocked him a little. Then again it made sense. In the eyes of your management team and label, you were a money making machine. Nothing more than a pretty face with a pretty voice they used to make themselves rich.

“Even my own parents,” you continued, fidgeting with the bottom of your cotton shorts. “They were so adamant not to let my grandmother fill my head with hopes and dreams while I was growing up, but the second those hopes and dreams came true, it’s like they forgot they were still my parents and should sometimes be brutally honest.”

Pausing, you bit down on your bottom lip. From across the bathroom, Eddie's gaze immediately trailed down your face and settled on where your teeth sank into flesh. He licked his own, eyes darkening for a split second.

“Sorry, I’m oversharing,” you muttered, breaking him away from any sinful thoughts that wanted to break free. “Telling you my life story even though not even thirty minutes ago, I didn’t know your name.”

Eddie smirked, a cheshire-cat grin spreading across his features. “The only thing you should be apologising for, sweetheart, is the fact you came to my party and didn’t know who I was.”

“I get invited to a lot of parties,” you defended, involuntarily rolling your eyes at his not so subtle cockiness. “Suppose you think all the girls swoon at the chance to be near you, huh? Sorry to disappoint, I guess.”

“Well, shit. Talk about brutal honesty.” Eddie teased and ran a hand through his locks, taking off his bandana in the process. “Now I feel like a fucking creep ‘cause I seem to know quite a bit about you.”

“Whatever you know is clearly wrong since I’m not some character,” you interjected and he glanced at you once again. “I mean my whole thing wasn’t an act at first.”

“And now?”

You sighed. “It’s a little more complicated.”

That made him laugh. “See, that’s why I don’t let my label or management tell me shit. My band, my music, my style. If I wasn’t unapologetically myself, I’d go fucking insane.”

He eventually found the first aid kit and the plasters within. Back in front of you, he gently wiped the cut on your upper leg again, only this time with a wet towel, and carefully put a plaster over it.

“All done.”

“Thank you.”

His hand remained on your skin as he looked up to hold your gaze. In the sharp bathroom light, you realised just how perfectly brown his eyes are and you couldn’t help but wonder if anyone’s ever told him that. You secretly hoped they didn’t. A little lame, but you found yourself wanting to be at least his first something.

Eddie on the other hand, thought about how of all the people here tonight, he wound up alone with you. Pop royalty. American treasure. A girl that’s graced the cover of magazines and been on talk shows he would never feature on. A girl who sold millions of copies of songs he wouldn’t be caught dead listening to. A girl so vastly different from him, it only made him want you more.

Continuing to stare deep into his chocolate-button eyes, you lifted your arm and since Eddie didn’t flinch, you proceeded to loop a loose strand of his hair around your finger then let it go. Eddie’s heart jumped into his throat as you repeated the action — a sensation he’s never really experienced before.

How come you had this hold on him, seemingly out of nowhere? A simple smile and a modest tease had his mind racing. Not to mention the softness of your skin under his grasp you didn’t try to break away from. Perhaps that was it. You didn’t push him away. You also didn’t throw yourself at him. Those were the two extremes he usually experienced. Knowing you had just about learned who he was before the two of you landed in this situation was a refreshing change from the people usually breaking into his house.

“We can go back to the party, since you’re all patched up.” Eddie offered, though his actions betrayed his words as he effortlessly parted your legs with his knee, creating a gap he slid into perfectly.

“What’s the alternative?” You asked in a whisper.

“Whatever you want it to be,” he murmured, face now inches away from yours. A genuine smile graced your features as you wrapped your arms around the rockstars neck.

It may have moved a little too fast, though there were no complaints from either of you at the time. In fact, you both welcomed it. Losing yourself completely in the moment and this magnetic pull you felt towards one another was freeing. A spark ignited with a touch, then a kiss — and fuck was Eddie Munson a good kisser. 

His lips were tender, although his actions were rather harsh. Desperate even, as he squeezed your jaw with one hand and pushed his mouth into yours further. You returned the same energy, aching to be even closer. Heads rotating in perfect rhythm, you tugged at his hair and he groaned against your mouth at the slight pressure then lightly bit your bottom lip to force his tongue down your throat. 

He tasted of tobacco and whiskey. Normally that kind of shit puts you off, but with Eddie, it was honestly intoxicating. He quickly asserted dominance, tongue intertwining itself with yours as his ring-clad fingers dug into your flesh. You moaned into his mouth. The flame inside you burning brighter with every passing second. 

Eddie’s head was spinning. He pulled apart briskly, only to catch his breath before he dipped his head to your neck. Licking then biting, sucking and kissing. Both his hands were back on your waist and they effortlessly pulled you closer towards him, the bulge concealed by his denim shorts now pressing against your bare thigh. 

His name escaped you repeatedly in mere whispers and whimpers, and you felt Eddie’s mouth turn up into a smirk against your neck. “Fuck, sweetheart. Don’t stop makin’ them pretty noises for me.”

“Then don’t stop kissing me.”

A request he gladly obliged as his lips found yours once again. This kiss was slower than your first, but equally as passionate. His strong hands moved up, under the loose cover of your shirt until he reached your underboob.

“I was gonna complain about you wearing so much clothes to a fucking pool party, but…” Eddie draws out the last syllable as his thumbs grazes over your hard nipples. “... this way is so much better, sweetheart.”

“Then keep going,” you whisper, body screaming with desire, aching for more. Begging to be touched. Begging to be turned into a fire, tipped off with gasoline. 

This was a dangerous game you were playing, getting hooked on a man you had only really met. A rockstar at that. Your lives, although borderline the same, were completely different. Your gut kept telling you there was no future here, but your heart didn’t care. You’ve gotten an accidental taste of Eddie Munson and you only wanted more.

Thankfully, it seemed like Eddie had the same idea.

He removes his hands from your breasts and drops them down to the waistband of your shorts. He kissed you again as his fingers desperately worked at the single button acting as a guard between him and what he wanted most this very moment.

“Can you lift yourself for a moment, sweetheart?”

You do as you’re told, allowing Eddie to slide the shorts past the curve off your ass, before letting them fall down your legs and to the tiled floor. His dark eyes meet yours as he grabs onto your thighs, squeezing at the flesh. And he holds your gaze while his fingers work their way upwards. You don’t realise you’re holding your breath until he’s pulling your panties to the side.

Oh. Oh.

Eddie’s running a finger up and down the length of your slit, proud to feel how soaked you already were. The light teasing continued as he added another finger and you flinched at the first contact to your clit. He was relentless. Taking his time as you tried to arch your pelvis into his fingers, only to be met with a hand around your jaw, “Stop that.”

Releasing your face, he stroked his fingers downward, then up again, finally letting a finger linger on the hood of your clit. He began to draw little circles so that the skin moved over the head, rhythmically exposing and covering it.

“Eddie…” you drawled and he groaned at the sound of his name in your desperate tone of voice. So he didn’t waste any more time, slipped two ring-clad fingers easily between your folds and you shuddered at the cold of the metal. He repeated the action over and over, faster and applying more pressure with each time. 

His mouth found yours once again, only this time he didn’t kiss you. Not really. Instead, his teeth latched onto your bottom lip and as you whined desperately while his curled fingers repeatedly hit that sweet spot inside you, he bit down harder. 

He fucked his fingers in and out of you. It was messy, rough, ecstatic. Then your back arched as he used his other hand to rub against your clit.

“Oh shit, fuck. Eddie, please don’t stop…” 

You let your head fall backwards, eyes closing. Within seconds, a shuddering orgasm overcame you, but with steady control, Eddie kept going for what seemed like a minute. Only once you began to relax, he eased his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?”

A content hum was all you could offer. Satisfied, Eddie smiled to himself and placed a sloppy kiss to the slant of your jawline.

“Are you okay to keep going?”

You looked back at him then and bopped your head once, slowly. “Yeah… Yes.”

His devilish grin widened. “Good girl. Hold tight.”

Hands shifting to the curve of your ass as you wrapped your legs tight around him, Eddie lifted you up with little to no effort and carried you towards the bed. He didn’t take much care to drop you gently so you bounced against the mattress while he hastily removed his pants and crawled over you, grinding down into you — unsurprising, he’d gone commando.

He began to rotate his hips so that his cock was massaging back and forth across your semi-clothed cunt. He alternated his movements; sometimes slowed them down while other times increasing speed. His lips were glued to your neck in the moment, only adding to the pure exhilaration you were experiencing, while he worked to unbutton your shirt, spreading it to the side.

Forehead pressed yours, he glanced down briefly to admire your now naked chest. Your nipples were rapidly erect as Eddie proceeded to move his hands around them, massaging the tissue of your breasts. With splayed fingers, he squeezed and released, then lightly pulled the flesh, while his teeth attached themselves to your earlobe.

The teasing was relentless. “Eddie… Oh Eddie, please,” you whined quietly and another moan escaped your lips, louder this time. 

The brunette on top of you groaned a mere second later. Unable to contain himself any longer, he tugged at your panties. Just as eager, you lifted your ass so he could slide the remaining garment off and toss it. Now you were naked in front of him, only the cotton shirt covering your arms.

“Shit, sweetheart. You’re so fucking beautiful.” Eddie whispered and lightly ran his fingers up and down your leg, while the other hand reached to cup your cheek. He leaned down to kiss you again. “My pretty girl.”

Heat rushed between your legs at the moniker. They parted a little more, desperate to increase the contact between the two of you. 

“Let me grab a condom,” Eddie muttered against your bare skin and you nodded, releasing your hold on him momentarily ‘cause you didn’t want any accidental pregnancies with a potential to ruin your career, and even his. 

Staring up at the ceiling, you heard him rummage through his bedside table. He’s back in your field of vision within seconds. There’s a look on his face that reads “are you sure you wanna do this”, and you tangle your fingers in his locks in response, pulling him closer.

Eddie lets his cock fall between your parted legs. He’s back to teasing you as he’s spreading your folds with the head of his dick, until it flicks over your clit. And you tug at his curls in the process, but he doesn’t care. A lustful look in his eyes. One that says, I can do this all night. Which he proves as the tip of his cock dragged across the entrance to your glistening cunt. Your legs would close slightly as if to trap it in that position. Eddie however, remained in full control.

“Please, please…” you begged against his hot mouth, “Please just fuck me. Fuck me, Eddie.”

He smirked. “Didn’t think America’s starlet was such a desperate fucking slut.”

With that, Eddie slammed the full length of his cock into you. No longer teasing. He was driving into your sodden cunt with a force that shook your entire body. His now glistening cock plunging in and out of you with ease. You were meeting his thrusts as best as you could while trapped under his massive frame.

To say you were experiencing a state of ecstasy you had never known before while fucking a man you’d only met an hour or so ago, would be a vast understatement. You felt dizzy and breathless as each stroke of his thick cock against your walls ignited the fire already burning bright. The sounds you were making were absolutely pornographic and in that moment, you were grateful Eddie locked the door ‘cause if anyone from the party were to come looking for him, or you, well let’s just say Page Six would have something interesting to write about, for once. This was a site to be seen.

Eddie leaned forward on his elbows, not like it was possible to be any closer but he sure as hell tried. One of his hands enveloped itself around your neck, while the other found your perfect tits. He alternated, kneading them and teasing your nipples, earning another sweet moan to escape through your parted lips. Then he lightly squeezed your neck and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Such a pretty girl,” Eddie muffled into your ear. “Fuck, baby. I don’t know what you’ve done to me. Just wanna fuck you forever.” He meant it. Your pussy felt amazing wrapped around his cock. Better than he imagined. Better in fact than anyone he’d ever been with. 

The room was filled with sick sounds, from the squeaking of the bed, Eddie’s grunts and gruffs, to the pounding your aching cunt was receiving. You had completely given yourself over to the rawness of the situation, although it’s not like you had any inhibitions in the first place.

As Eddie continued to whisper dirty things into your ear, the length of his shaft sliding in and out of you with unnatural force, you buried your head in the crook of his neck, muffling only slightly your increasing guttural groans with each of his thrusts. And as your fingers abandoned his locks, trailing instead down his back, fingernails digging into his tattooed skin, you knew another climax was fast approaching.

“Eddie,” you barely muttered.

“Come on, baby. That’s it. Shit—”

He’s panting as he squeezes your neck again, recreating the pressure your throbbing cunt was feeling. That pushed you over the edge. Everything falls to a standstill as you come undone around him, crying out his name as if he was some sort of god; which in this moment, he might as well have been.

He didn’t give you a second to recover, continuing to fuck into you with such heedlessness, his own orgasm follows shortly after. He dropped on top of you and you gasped at the next few sharp thrusts, although slower than before right up until he cums.

“Fuck— Pretty girl, takes me so well.” Eddie breathed, completely blissed out.

The two of you lay there for a few moments longer, trying to catch your breaths. Everything was quite peaceful as you brushed his hair away from his face, gently forcing him to look at you. You offer him a smile. One he returns quite gladly.

Usually at this point, Eddie’s doing everything he can to get rid of the other person, but with you it felt different. He wanted you here for as long as you’d stay. 

So, even though he didn’t admit it out loud, he was more than a little happy when you openly asked if you could “stick around” a little longer, maybe even fall asleep with him that night.

-

The last time Eddie had seen you, you were picking up your scattered garments off his bedroom floor before getting dressed. It was early. Too early for him, but you had a shoot you needed to get to and he wanted to kiss you goodbye.

“Promise not to break into any more houses, sweetheart.” Eddie teased against your plush lips, hand cupping your cheek.

“Just yours,” you teased back and kissed him, then again, and again. “I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

He almost didn’t let you go. He almost pulled you back under the covers for round three and four, and when you didn’t call his place later that day, he kinda wished he had. He hung around by the phone waiting for it to ring, then he felt pathetic for doing so.

The last time Eddie heard from you was a week later. He was back at the studio, working on a song he didn’t want to admit to his bandmates was actually about you. A girl he had no business being hung up on.

It was just one night, he would tell himself, but it was no use.

“Eddie,” Marianne hailed him and pointed to the phone, “Phone call for you.”

The curly-haired rocker exhaled a puff of smoke and picked up the receiver. “Hello. Who’s this?”

“Hey, sorry.” 

His heart stopped ‘cause he recognised that voice anywhere. He shifted in his position, turning his back on the rest of the people gathered in the room just so they wouldn’t be able to read the expression on his face — longing.

“I know I said I’d call the second I finished at that shoot, but it went well into the night and honestly I just worried I'd wake you,” you explained. “Then I had a morning flight back to New York, a luncheon my grandmother had me attend plus some other family shit… Anyway, I just wanted to call and apologise, hope you’re not too upset with me.”

He was upset. Although the knowledge of that was a power he couldn't relinquish. Usually, he wasn't the one waiting around for the other person. He was upset he let you cloud his thoughts after only one night — as fucking fun as it may have been.

“It’s okay,” Eddie lied, 'cause it was easier than to say he missed you. “Honestly, sweetheart, I forgot you even said you’d call.”

There was a second of silence in which the rock star closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing while you fought back tears he didn’t even know he caused.

“Right. I guess honesty is what I asked for…” you muttered coldly. “See you around, Eddie.”

The line went dead. Beep. Beep. Beep. Eddie pressed the receiver to his forehead, his grip around it tightening. “Motherfucker—”

“All good?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah man,” Eddie lied again before turning back to the group. “Just some one night stand who mixed up the signals a little. Thought we’d be going out a second time, but I don’t do that shit.”

Not even one year later, that same exact “one night stand” stood in front of Eddie once more and you looked even better than that night last August. Your skin was glowing, or perhaps that was just the dim studio light. Your makeup was definitely a lot sharper and it only highlighted your already near perfect facial structure. Then there was your outfit. Dressed in a short denim skirt, tight on your curves and held snug in place around your waist with a belt he knew was more expensive than anything he’s ever owned, the bottom was paired with a white cashmere turtleneck, short sleeved and cut right above your belly button.

Eddie swallowed thickly. He swore he’d gotten over whatever spell you put him under back then, but as you greeted his bandmates with the biggest smile on your face, looking as good as you did, his heart skipped a beat or two.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, glancing at Eddie with an encouraging look on her face.

The curly-haired man wiped his sweaty palms on the sticky pleather of his pants and extended his right hand in your direction. You looked at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

“We’ve met before,” is all you said, without even looking at him once, before turning to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

Eddie’s sad puppy-dog gaze followed you across the room. He observed silently as Marianne propped you in front of the microphone and handed you a set of headphones. He desperately wanted you to look at him. He wanted your eyes to lock with his ‘cause perhaps an unspoken apology offered only by a single exchange of glances would be enough to get you on the right track. But you didn’t.

“What the fuck did you do?” Gareth muttered next to him.

“I fucked up, man.” Eddie answered honestly this time. “Fucked up pretty bad.”

Gareth knew better than to press on the matter further, especially in front of everyone else, so he gently smacked Eddie’s back instead. It was a silent set of condolences, one Eddie definitely didn’t deserve since this was all his fault.

The band had all taken their places. Jesus Christ, he was really in for an unbearable day and he had no one to blame but himself. Sighing silently, Eddie crossed the studio and stood at the microphone, placed only a feet away from yours.

He stole another glance. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne began, “But the day I don’t say it, is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes: good luck and have some fucking fun!” Then she disappeared into the other room, behind the glass.

An unsettling silence filled the air.

Usually Eddie would take the lead, but he found himself incapable. His attention was solely focused on you. Every inch of him wanted to shout, beg for any sort of acknowledgement. You continued to give him nothing and he thought you weren’t ever going to look at him again. 

But then you did and frankly, that was much worse.

“Honesty, take one,” you said into the microphone while staring deadpan at the rockstar beside you. Confirming, without saying much else, that you knew this song he wrote was in fact about you.

part two