#on more genuine note I just really like his body is drawn

[dreamtydraw]

I am no better than a man...

[piastrisun]

front page flirt.

pairings: franco colapinto + (journalist) fem character.

summary: the usual charm of franco don’t sway elaine, but he knows he’s found his match—and he’s not giving up until he has her.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 5.9k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: named female character. inspired by andrew and amelia, so this is a long one. i plan on making an smau about this as well.

elaine bennett is known for her sharp instincts and unflinching professionalism as one of the most respected journalists in sports media. she's navigated countless interviews, handled high-profile personalities, and mastered the art of staying calm under pressure. she is, also, widely admired in the paddock, for the genuine warmth she brings to every interaction. drivers, team principals, and staff alike have nothing but respect for her, drawn to her quick humor and deep knowledge of the sport.

but from the moment she meets franco colapinto, the effortlessly charming and notoriously flirtatious driver, she knows he’s going to be different.

he has a reputation: the charming, sharp-witted rookie who seems as at ease with a microphone in his face as he is on the field; he’s the kind of guy who never misses a chance to crack a joke or toss a playful compliment. for him, every interaction is part of the performance, and his banter with the press has become almost as famous as his achievements on the field, he’s quickly become a fan favorite both on and off the track. when he first meets with elaine, he's prepared for the usual routine of deflecting flirtation and steering the conversation back on track. but he knows she’s going to be different.

SCENE #1.

the paddock buzzes with activity as elaine step into view, her camera crew following closely behind, already recording. her warm smile, the one that wins over every driver, spreads across her face as she approaches him. she scans the crowd, but her eyes settle on franco, who’s leaning casually against the barrier, chatting with another reporter. he notices her immediately, straightening up a little, though trying to play it cool. there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, flashing a wide grin her way, the kind that’s just a little too charming, already anticipating the conversation.

she walks toward him after the reporter leaves, maintaining her serious expression despite the playful energy bubbling beneath the surface. “i’ve been trying to get an interview with you for a while now,�� she says, her voice steady but teasing. there’s a glint in her eyes, but she holds back her smile, keeping things professional—at least for the camera.

“really?” franco’s voice is smooth, but his body language says more than his words. he shifts his weight, standing a little closer to her, his arm casually brushing against hers. he tilts his head, letting his gaze linger on her, his eyes scanning her face as if he’s trying to read her thoughts.

“yeah,” she nods, keeping a straight face, though there’s a lightness in her tone. “but you know, you were playing hard to get.”

franco smirks, stepping even closer, his body leaning in, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “me? i’d never play hard to get with you.” his voice drops just enough to make the words sound like a promise. his hand hovers near her arm, not quite touching but close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating from him. he’s using the excuse of the interview to close the gap, and she notices it.

“of course you’d say that.” her voice remains calm, unwavering, but inside, she feels the tension building. his presence is undeniable, but she’s determined to keep up the professional front, even though it’s becoming harder to ignore the way he’s leaning in, the way his eyes flicker from her face to the camera and back again, like he’s fully aware of the audience watching.

franco, still grinning, takes a small step back but only to tilt his head again, eyeing her playfully. “why? i’m being honest here,” he says, shrugging as if he’s confessing something. “i’ve been waiting for you to come over. every time i’m looking out for you, you’re always busy interviewing someone else.” his voice has dropped to a playful whisper now, but loud enough for the camera team to catch, as if he’s letting the viewers in on an inside joke. his fingers graze her chin, a small, thoughtful gesture, but she can tell he’s watching her closely, waiting for her reaction.

she fights the urge to smile, keeping her expression neutral. “that’s how jobs work, franco. you know that.” her voice is light, but her eyes remain locked on his, daring him to push further.

he laughs, his body language loose, but she can sense the focus in the way he’s standing—completely tuned in to her. “you sure it’s just the job, or are you just trying to keep me waiting?” he winks, and for a moment, the playful flirtation between them seems almost palpable.

she raises an eyebrow, her lips pressed together in an amused but serious line, refusing to let him get the upper hand. the camera crew captures everything, but it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of them in that moment. there's a lightness in between, the flirtation woven through her words, but beneath it, a genuine connection. the atmosphere around them fades into the background, both caught in this playful back-and-forth, completely at ease despite the cameras rolling.

franco watches her closely, clearly amused by her refusal to break character, but he’s not backing down either. he takes a step to the side, casually leaning against the railing, his body angled towards her, arms folding across his chest in a way that draws attention to his relaxed confidence.

“keep you waiting?” she tilts her head slightly, her tone dry, but the teasing in her eyes gives it away. “you think i’ve got time to keep anyone waiting?”

franco laughs softly, his eyes never leaving hers. he’s fully aware of the camera team recording every word, but he seems to enjoy the game more with the audience. “you’re right,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “i’m the one waiting, not you.” he shifts his weight again, this time leaning just a little closer, his arm brushing against hers again—but this time, it feels more deliberate. “i guess i just like waiting for you.” the words are casual, but the way he says them, with that small, knowing smile, feels like a challenge.

she keeps her expression neutral, but the playful tension is unmistakable now. “is that so?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she finally meets his gaze head-on. she can feel the camera crew just behind her, recording the whole exchange.

he shrugs, letting his eyes drift slowly down to the microphone in your hand before returning to her face. “you’ve got my attention now,” he says, voice softer, almost as if the cameras aren’t there. “what’s next?”

she pauses for a moment, pretending to think, then finally cracks the smallest smile, enough to show him that he hasn’t completely worn her down yet. “what’s next?” she echoes, leaning in just slightly. “the interview, obviously. try to keep up, franco.”

he chuckles again, raising his hands in mock surrender, but his grin doesn’t fade. “alright, alright,” he says, the playful glint in his eyes growing stronger. “but i’ve got to say, i think i’d prefer it if you just kept me waiting a little longer.”

she shakes her head, amused, and lifts her microphone again. “i’m sure you do,” she replies, still professional, but now with a smirk just barely tugging at her lips. the camera crew catches the moment, and she can already imagine the headlines—viewers love this kind of banter.

he shifts closer one last time, just enough to make it clear he’s still playing this game with her. “you know, if you ever get tired of interviews… we could always talk off the record.”

she gives him a long look, narrowing her eyes slightly as she raises the microphone to his face, her voice cool and composed. “let’s start with on the record, shall we?”

he laughs, a warm, genuine sound, but she can see the spark in his eyes that says he’s far from done. the camera crew continues filming, but in this moment, it’s all just part of the fun. the interview has begun, but the real game is still unfolding.

SCENE #2.

the second interview starts as elaine spots franco in the paddock again, and this time, there’s a different energy between them—something more familiar, more playful, after your first meeting. the camera crew is behind her once more, recording everything, but she has learned by now that franco loves the game, and today is no different.

she approaches him with her usual confident stride, the microphone ready, her serious face firmly in place, even though she can feel the anticipation.

“franco,” she greets him, keeping her voice smooth and professional.

“elaine, hi.” he responds, his smile instant, the warmth in his voice impossible to miss. there’s something about the way he says her name, as if he’s been waiting for this moment again.

she glances at him, arching an eyebrow slightly. “we’re meeting each other again,” she says, her tone light but teasing. “finally, dare i say.”

franco laughs softly, taking a step closer, his posture relaxed as always, but there’s a spark in his eyes as he responds, “i only ever want to see you in moments like this.”

“oh!” she’s taken off guard for a second but recovers quickly, maintaining her serious face.

he shrugs, his voice casual but carrying that familiar flirtatious undertone. “can’t you blame me? you’re one of a kind.”

her lips quirk slightly, but she doesn’t give in. “really? what about other kinds of situations?” she asks, tilting her head just a little, challenging him as she always does, the camera capturing the subtle tension.

franco’s eyes gleam, and he leans in, lowering his voice enough that it feels like the conversation is just between them—even with the crew around. “now you’re open to that?”

she holds his gaze, unfazed, the seriousness never leaving her expression. “i didn’t say that,” she replies, her voice even, but there’s a hint of curiosity beneath it. “i’m just wondering.”

the air between you shifts once more, charged with the same playful tension from the last encounter. franco chuckles softly, but this time, he doesn’t press further. she can tell he’s enjoying the back-and-forth just as much as she is. the cameras are rolling, but once again, it feels like the world has shrunk down, playing your game in the midst of the media frenzy.

franco’s smile deepens as her words hang in the air, and he steps just a little closer, still careful to keep it subtle for the cameras but enough for her to feel the shift in his energy. his eyes linger on hers, playful but with a new intensity.

“i think you’re doing more than just wondering,” he says, voice dropping lower, his tone teasing but with an edge that makes the moment feel more personal.

she doesn’t flinch, keeping her professional demeanor intact, though inside, she feels the tension growing. “that’s your interpretation,” she responds, her voice smooth and steady. “but we both know how interviews work, right?”

franco tilts his head, his gaze sweeping over her, amused. “is that what we’re calling this?” he laughs lightly, the sound warm, but his eyes remain locked on hers. “because this feels like something else.”

she raises an eyebrow, keeping her cool as she tilts the microphone slightly toward him. “oh? you think this is something more?”

he shrugs, his grin never faltering, but there’s something more deliberate in the way he leans in just a little further. as he speaks, his hand casually reaches out, his fingers wrapping around the microphone she’s holding, his touch firm yet playful. he doesn’t take it from her, but the gesture makes her heart skip for a moment. “let’s just say,” he murmurs, his voice low, “i don’t get this kind of vibe with anyone else.”

her finally allows herself a small smile, just enough to acknowledge his playful attempt. her grip on the microphone tightens just slightly. “vibe?” she echoes, pretending to mull over the word. “well, if that’s what you’re picking up, i must be doing my job right.”

franco chuckles again, but she sees in his eyes that he’s still not letting go of the game. “you’re good at your job, elaine,” he admits, a bit more seriously now, though his playful tone lingers. “but i’m not sure that’s what i mean.”

she narrows her eyes slightly, pretending to consider his words. “well, i’m not here to interpret feelings, franco,” she replies, her voice still measured, professional. “i’m here to ask the real questions.”

he smirks, clearly enjoying the banter. “okay then, ask away,” he says, spreading his arms slightly, as if welcoming whatever she’s about to throw his way. “hit me with your best shot.”

she pauses for a beat, still holding his gaze, the challenge hanging between them. “how about this?” she says, lowering her voice just a touch. “what’s it like knowing you’re the driver everyone’s watching this season after your unexpected jump to f1?”

he leans back slightly, his expression shifting as he switches to the more serious part of the interview, though she can still see that playful glint in his eyes. “it’s exciting,” he admits, finally breaking eye contact as he glances off to the side, his tone more thoughtful now. “a little nerve-wracking, too, if i’m being honest. but i’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life, so i’m ready for it.”

she nods, letting him speak as her camera crew captures his words, but even as the conversation turns more professional, she notices the underlying tension. it’s like the game never really stopped—it’s just paused for now.

“do you feel the pressure?” she asks, keeping her tone level but letting a hint of curiosity slip through. “knowing that so many eyes are on you?”

franco meets her gaze again, his expression softening slightly. “yeah, i feel it,” he admits. “but i think that’s part of what makes it fun. the pressure pushes you to be better. and… i’ve got good people around me.” his eyes flicker toward her for just a second, and she doesn’t miss the way his words seem to hold a double meaning.

she maintains her professional surface, but inside, the familiar game is still alive. “good people, huh?” she says, her voice steady. “that’s important.”

he nods, his smile returning, but there’s something softer behind it now. “yeah,” he says, his tone quieter but still light. “it makes all the difference.”

she holds his gaze for a moment longer before glancing down at her notes, signaling that the playful banter is over—at least for now. “well,” she says, shifting back into reporter mode, “i think that’s a wrap for today.”

franco’s grin widens, and as she lowers the microphone, he steps closer again, just for a moment, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “i’m already looking forward to our next interview, elaine.”

her smile—this time fully—allowing him that little victory. “i’m sure you are,” she says softly, before turning back to her camera crew.

SCENE #3.

elaine meets franco for another interview during a casual media day. it’s quieter than usual, with fewer cameras and press around, giving everything a more relaxed vibe. she sets up her microphone, preparing to ask him a standard question about his preparations for the upcoming race.

“franco,” she starts, flashing her usual friendly smile, “how are you feeling about this weekend? any special strategies for the race?”

but instead of answering her question seriously, franco leans back in his seat, a playful smirk curling at the edge of his lips. he doesn’t bother with the usual racing talk. “you know, i’ve been preparing for this moment—seeing you again,” he says, his voice smooth and teasing.

her laugh comes out naturally, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. she tries to stay composed, shaking her head slightly, but the comment lingers in the air between them. “franco, we’re supposed to be talking about racing,” she replies, though there’s a hint of amusement in her voice. she’s used to his charm by now, but today it feels different, bolder.

franco, far from backing down, leans in a little closer, his gaze holding hers with a new intensity. “what? you’re the one who keeps finding reasons to talk to me,” he says, his tone lighter but insistent. “i think we’re overdue.”

she raises an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation on track, but her pulse quickens at the way he’s looking at her. his usual playfulness feels more deliberate, the line between professionalism and personal interest blurring.

“overdue for what, exactly?” she counters, her voice calm, but her heart isn’t. she’s not giving him an easy out, and she knows he’s testing her. he chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter.

“a real conversation, no microphones, no cameras,” he clarifies, his voice dropping slightly as if it’s just the two of them in the room. he’s serious, and she can feel it. his eyes haven’t left hers since the conversation started, and suddenly, the interview feels less like work and more like something else entirely.

elaine shifts, gripping the microphone a little tighter, trying to brush it off with another laugh. “is that your new strategy? charm your way through the season?”

he leans back, arms crossed, his grin unfaltering. “hey, i’m just playing to my strengths.” he flashes her a wink, making it clear he’s not just talking about his racing skills.

elaine glances at her camera team briefly, aware of the recording, but her mind’s already distracted by the shift in their dynamic. she takes a steady breath, maintaining her professional stance, but deep down, she knows franco has her cornered in a way she didn’t expect.

SCENE #4.

elaine steps into the interview space, all set to keep things professional as always, but there’s something different about franco today. his posture is more relaxed, leaning casually against a wall, and as she approaches, his eyes light up with that same familiar mischief, though now it feels heavier with intention. she notices the subtle change; the playful flirtation he once scattered freely with other journalists has all but vanished. by now, she’s the only one he reserves it for, and the realisation makes her heart skip a beat.

before she can even get her opening question out, franco interrupts, not missing a beat as he says, “you look gorgeous today, by the way. but then again, you always do.”

elaine is momentarily thrown off, her grip tightening slightly on the microphone as she processes his words. but her professionalism kicks in, and she brushes it off with a small laugh, her expression staying composed. “thank you, franco,” she replies, her tone polite but distant, trying to keep things on track.

he doesn’t let it go. he leans in just enough for their arms to brush, his smirk deepening as he adds, “i’m serious, elaine. it’s getting hard to focus on anything else when you’re around.”

her heart skips a beat, and she feels the warmth of his proximity, but she stays cool under pressure. she knows he’s trying to get a reaction, but she won’t give him the satisfaction that easily. raising an eyebrow, she tilts her head slightly, her voice smooth and teasing, “really?”

he chuckles, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, his eyes locked on hers as if there’s no one else in the room. “let’s just say that doesn’t happen often with anyone else,” he replies, his voice dropping lower, as though they’re the only ones in on this private conversation.

her pulse quickens despite herself. the camera crew behind her is still rolling, and she knows every second of this will be captured, but franco doesn’t seem to care. there’s a daring edge to him today, a boldness that’s pushing the boundaries of their usual exchanges.

she takes a steadying breath, maintaining her professional demeanor, but there’s no denying the tension between them. “looks aside,” she starts, her voice firm but softening at the edges, “i’m here to talk about your race, not to boost your ego.”

franco grins wider, clearly not deterred. his hand briefly brushes against her arm again as he leans closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “who says you can’t do both?”

elaine huffs a small laugh, shaking her head as she refocuses on the microphone. “let’s keep this professional, franco.”

“sure,” he says, though his eyes tell a different story. the playfulness lingers in the air between them, and though she tries to push through the rest of the interview, there’s an unspoken tension that neither can quite ignore.

SCENE #5.

as the interview begins, franco leans against the wall, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as she approaches. her camera team sets up nearby, but this time the atmosphere feels more relaxed, less formal, as if the race weekend has left everyone in a calmer mood.

she asks the first question about his performance, her tone professional, but with that familiar playful edge that always seems to bring out franco’s charm. he smiles through her questions, barely paying attention to the words. when she finishes, microphone in hand, he reaches out, gently taking hold of the microphone as if to steady it, but instead of letting go, he keeps his fingers wrapped around hers.

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you,” franco says, his voice low, eyes locked on hers.

she blinks, slightly thrown by the sudden shift in tone. “oh? about the race?” she asks, her professional mask slipping just a little as she looks up at him.

he grins, shaking his head. “no,” he replies, his grip still firm on the microphone. “something a little more personal.”

she raises an eyebrow, trying to maintain her composure, though she’s acutely aware of how close he is now, the warmth of his hand next to hers. “go on,” she says, her voice steady despite the tension.

he leans in just a little closer, his grin turning playful but his tone serious. “when are we going to stop pretending these interviews are just about racing?”

she feels a flutter in her chest, but she quickly regains her footing, narrowing her eyes slightly as she tries to maintain the upper hand. “is that what you think we’re doing?”

he chuckles softly, his hand lingering on the microphone for a beat longer before pulling back slightly, though the space between them is still minimal. “i’m just saying… i think we’ve had enough interviews to cover racing. maybe it’s time we talk about something else. maybe somewhere quieter.”

her breath hitches, but she keeps her expression composed, giving him a small, teasing smile. “you have something in mind?”

franco’s gaze holds hers, his smile widening as he steps back just a fraction, giving her space but not letting go of the playful tension. “i do,” he says simply, “but it’s not really something we can talk about on camera, is it?”

her heart skips a beat, but she doesn’t let him see that. instead, she tilts her head slightly, amused. “i think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

he shrugs, his confidence unwavering. “maybe. or maybe i’m just catching up to what we’ve both been thinking.”

she pauses, the weight of his words settling between them, but before she can respond, the camera team signals that they’re ready to wrap up. franco flashes them a grin, his usual media charm slipping back into place as he steps away, but there’s something unmistakably different in the way he looks at her now—something that lingers long after the interview ends.

SCENE #6.

as the sixth interview begins, there’s an unmistakable tension in the air. the setting feels quieter than usual, tucked away in a calmer part of the paddock. the hum of activity continues in the background, but here, it’s just franco, elaine, and her camera crew. the atmosphere feels more intimate, almost as if it’s just the two of them despite the cameras rolling. franco stands close to her, his energy brimming with the confidence he’s earned after a successful weekend. there’s something about the way he’s standing tells her he’s ready to push the boundaries further this time.

as elaine begins the interview, franco listens with a half-smile, his gaze never straying from her face. he answers her first few questions with his usual charm, but there’s a noticeable shift as the interview starts to wind down. instead of letting her wrap things up, he steps forward and takes hold of the microphone, stopping her in her tracks. his fingers brush against hers, and his smile widens as he keeps a playful grip on the mic.

“one last question before we finish up, elaine,” he says, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes are filled with a mischievous gleam. he doesn’t wait for her to respond, his gaze fixed intently on her, making sure she’s paying full attention. “when are you going to let me take you out?”

she blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the directness of his question. the cameras are still rolling, and she knows her crew is watching. her professional mask stays firmly in place, but there’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she glances at him, not sure whether to laugh or call his bluff.

franco doesn’t back down. if anything, her silence only fuels his confidence. he leans in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a more private tone. “i mean, we’ve done enough interviews by now, haven’t we?” his fingers remain on the microphone, his touch lingering. “don’t you think it’s about time we see each other outside of work?”

she tilts her head, her lips parting as she considers how to respond. she knows franco has been flirty before, but this—this is different. this is more direct, and he’s not hiding behind playful banter this time. there’s no subtlety, no room for her to misinterpret his intentions. she could brush him off with a witty remark, like she usually does, but the way he’s looking at her—so certain, so bold—makes her pause.

her camera crew stays silent behind her, but she can feel their eyes on the two of them. still, it’s as if the rest of the world has melted away, leaving only them in this charged, electric moment.

“i see,” she says finally, her voice steady though her heart races. “so this is your big question? the one you’ve been waiting to ask?”

his grin widens, and he nods, not even pretending to be bashful. “it’s the only one that matters, really.” his hand drops from the microphone, but he doesn’t step back. he holds her gaze, waiting for her response, as if daring her to either accept his offer or shut him down.

she takes a breath, then exhales slowly, her eyes narrowing playfully. “well,” she says, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something more, “i suppose i could consider it… if you can survive another interview.”

franco chuckles, the sound deep and rich as he leans back slightly, still keeping that air of confidence. “oh, i’ll survive,” he says, flashing her one last grin. “but i’d much rather we skip to the part where i get to take you out.”

the tension lingers as the interview ends, the flirty exchange hanging in the air long after the cameras stop rolling. elaine may still be in control, but franco has made his intentions clear—this wasn’t just another interview. and judging by the way her eyes linger on him, there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to brush him off so easily this time.

SCENE #7.

the interview begins like any other. elaine approaches franco with her usual composure, ready to dive into another conversation about the upcoming race. but today, there’s a subtle tension in the air, something unspoken lingering between them from their previous encounters.

as she greets him, microphone in hand, franco’s eyes immediately lock on hers, that playful glint back in full force. “elaine,” he says smoothly, “i was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

she smirks, raising an eyebrow. “avoiding you? you’re impossible to avoid.”

franco laughs softly, his gaze never leaving her. “and yet, you manage to always keep your distance.” there’s a teasing edge to his words, but something else too, something more serious.

she moves to start the interview, but franco takes a step closer, his hand casually reaching out to brush against hers. the touch is brief at first, but enough to make her pause. she glances down at their hands, a slight flutter in her chest, but she tries to maintain her professionalism, focusing on the task at hand.

“so, franco,” she starts, trying to regain control of the situation, “how are you feeling about this race? confident, as always?”

he doesn’t answer immediately. instead, his fingers lightly graze hers again, this time more intentional. before she knows it, he’s gently holding her hand, not forcefully, but enough to make her heart skip. her breath hitches for a second, and she glances up at him, but he’s already watching her with a grin that’s both charming and undeniably bold.

“you know, i could talk about the race,” franco says softly, his voice low, as if the two of them are the only people in the room. “but i think we’ve had enough of that, don’t you?”

elaine tries to pull her hand back, but he holds it for a moment longer, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver down her spine. “franco,” she starts, trying to steady herself, but the teasing light in his eyes tells her he’s fully aware of what he’s doing.

he leans in slightly, closing the space between them just enough to feel his presence more than ever. “what if, just this once, we forget about the race? talk about something else... something more interesting.”

elaine’s heart is racing now, the intensity of the moment catching her off guard. she knows the camera is rolling, but for a split second, she forgets about everything else. “like what?” she asks, her voice quieter, betraying the calm exterior she’s trying to maintain.

his smirk deepens, and he gives her hand one last squeeze before finally letting go. “how about that dinner we’ve been talking about? you can’t say no forever, elaine.”

she blinks, regaining her composure, and steps back just enough to create some distance, though her heart is still racing from the brief but electric contact. “we’ll see about that,” she replies, her voice stronger now, though there’s a lingering warmth where his hand had been.

franco grins, clearly satisfied with the effect he’s had on her. “i’ll take that as a ‘maybe.’”

the interview resumes, but neither of them can ignore the unspoken tension that now sits between them, even as the cameras roll and the questions continue.

FINAL SCENE.

from the moment the cameras roll, it’s clear that today, franco isn't holding back. his confidence is palpable, his eyes locked on hers as if the world outside the interview doesn’t exist.

“you know, we’ve danced around this long enough,” franco says, his tone playful yet sincere, the easy smile on his face revealing a deeper intent.

“danced around what exactly?” her tone is playful, but she knows exactly where this is going.

franco’s smile is different today—there’s no teasing, just an open honesty in the way he speaks. “when are you going to stop dodging my dinner invitations? you said one more interview and you’ll let me take you out and it’s been two already.”

elaine raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “is this your way of trying to get an exclusive or something?”

franco chuckles softly, leaning in just a bit closer, his confidence radiating from him. “no, i’m serious. i’ve asked enough times, and you’ve given me the runaround. it’s time for a real dinner, just the two of us, no cameras.”

elaine laughs lightly, but there’s a spark of intrigue in her gaze. “and what makes you think i’d say yes now?”

franco steps a little closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around her. “maybe because you’ve enjoyed our conversations just as much as i have. eight interviews later, don’t you think it’s time we had one without the cameras?”

she pauses, letting his words hang in the air for a moment, the tension palpable. finally, a smile breaks through. “alright, franco. dinner it is. but don’t think this means you’re off the hook for next season.”

his grin widens, genuine delight lighting up his face. “i’ll take what i can get. dinner it is.”

once the cameras shut off, the atmosphere shifts. franco doesn’t move away from her side. the energy is different now—calmer, more intimate. he’s always had a playful, cocky edge, but today there’s something deeper in the way he looks at her. he hands off the microphone to a crew member, his arm brushing against hers, sending a thrill through her.

elaine lowers the microphone, her professional demeanor softening. she’s always been careful to keep their interactions light and work-related, but tonight feels different, like a turning point.

“i never thought you’d actually accept,” franco says quietly, his gaze steady on hers, a hint of vulnerability beneath his usual charm.

elaine meets his gaze, feeling her guard beginning to lower. “what can i say? i’m full of surprises.”

as they stroll side by side, the conversation shifts. they talk about their careers, the crazy schedules that keep them both moving from one city to another, and how their paths keep crossing in the most unexpected ways. franco is more relaxed now, no longer the charming rookie trying to win her over, but just himself. elaine listens, her guard slipping down more with every word.

at one point, he gently reaches for her hand, testing the waters as his fingers brush against hers. she pauses for a brief second, her heart skipping a beat as she feels a rush of warmth at the contact. surprised but pleased, she lets him touch her.

“you know,” he says softly, glancing at her with a mix of seriousness and mischief, “i’ve been waiting for you to say yes for a long time, you know.”

she squeezes his hand lightly, a smile tugging at her lips. “maybe i was just waiting for the right moment.”

franco’s expression brightens, a spark of hope igniting in his eyes. “and what about now? do you think this is the right moment?”

elaine feels her heart flutter at the sincerity in his gaze. the playful teasing from their earlier interviews has melted into something deeper, something she has been longing for but hesitated to acknowledge. “i think it could be,” she replies, her voice softening.

he steps even closer, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. “good. because i can’t be any more obvious than i already am.”

elaine tilts her head, teasingly raising an eyebrow. “obvious? maybe you were just being charming—it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

his grin broadens, and he takes a small step closer, the air thick with unspoken tension. “charming, huh? i guess i’ll have to keep it up then.”

“don’t get too cocky,” she warns playfully, her heart racing at the way he leans in just a bit more. “i might change my mind.”

“not a chance,” he replies, his voice low and confident. “i’m determined now. i’ll make you see how good we could be together. you and me—it’s worth pursuing.”

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[discordantwritings]

Quiet (Mihawk x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW, gn afab! Reader, Reader has chronic illness/ pain, Cross Guild is also there but this is basically all Mihawk, lots of comfort, fingering

WC: 1.1k

Summary: You hurt and you’re angry and you lash out. Luckily Mihawk sees through your yelling and helps you out.

Notes: A quick little thing for @turtletaubwrites since you’ve been having a bit of a time. I hope things are going well. Also the bath part is very much all based on the ask from @hugeassnerdwithadirtymind3

Tagging: @keiva1000

Normally the ambient sounds of your three partners were comforting. The scratching of pen on paper as Crocodile worked with the occasional metal clink of his hook or rings- the cheery tunes Buggy constantly hums under his breath as he goes about his day. They are familiar in a way that, normally, makes you feel at ease.

Normally.

But right now, you think as you grip the cushions of the couch in Crocodile’s office, pain and discomfort and vile thoughts bubbling through your body, you think if you hear one more slightly off key note from that clown you’ll rip your own skin off. You thought you could manage it today, shoving down your discomfort and putting on a smile to try and have a normal day. Just one day where you aren’t wallowing or being pitied. The door slams behind Mihawk as he walks in for the meeting and any last hope of that normal day flies out the window.

“Can you shut a door behind you for fucking once!” You snap at Mihawk, earning a shocked look from everyone.

“Excuse me?” Mihawk says back, tone truly indicating confusion.

“You-!” You stand up and gesture angrily towards the door. “You don’t just shut doors behind you! You just bust them open and parade on through and since every fucking door in this place is expensive and heavy they slam every single time! It’s loud! It’s fucking obnoxious!”

“Hey, star-“ Buggy takes a step towards you but you stop him.

“Don’t. You’re no better with your stupid humming.” You glare at him and only when you see the genuine hurt in his eyes do you realize you are overreacting.

There’s a few painfully long moments of silence before you feel the tears pricking at your eyes, pent up frustration and pain about to drag you under again. You turn and rush out the door and retreat to your room, not caring if anyone follows.

You bury yourself in your dark room, curtains drawn closed so no light or sound could peak through, curled up under heavy blankets to muffle anything that even tried to poke through. Despite all your effort though you could still sense when the door to your room softly open and shut. You can’t tell who has entered until you feel someone sit next to you on the bed and a soft, quiet voice reach out to you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” It’s Mihawk, and you instinctively roll over to be a bit closer to him.

“Not really.” You answer, sliding so your head rests on his lap.

“Alright.” He runs his hands through your hair gently and you appreciate the touch as you let yourself hug his leg.

The two of you sit in perfect silence for well over and hour, him not questioning when you have to grip him tighter or the occasional groan of pain. It was nice to just be with him, to be held but not pitied, to not feel like the center of attention but still acknowledged. Eventually you find your center again, anger and frustration passing for at least a moment. You sit up and lean your head on Mihawk’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” You say quietly.

“Apology accepted.”

“But you really can’t keep slamming doors.”You see the small quirk of a smile and you know everything is okay.

“I will do better. Now, would you like to take a bath with me?”

You sit up excitedly- Mihawk’s baths are the best. Every decadent soap, oil, and lotion this side of the Grand Line was in his bathroom. His tub was deep and heated with little jets that were heavenly. Of course you wanted to take a bath. Mihawk picks up on your excitement immediately, standing up and scooping you into his arms.

The bathroom isn’t a far walk and you get deposited onto the sink counter to watch as Mihawk draws the bath. As the warm water fills the tub he lights various candles and turns the lights off, giving the room a peaceful ambiance. You watch as he pours various oils into the bath that fill the room with a slightly floral scent, the bath bubbling up as the water level rises. Once he turns the water off you slip out of your clothes and Mihawk follows suit.

“After you.” Mihawk holds his hand out and you take his hand as you step into the bath, warm water immediately doing wonders.

You sink down into the tub, going down until bubbles hit your chin. Mihawk steps in after you, somehow barely disturbing the water as he sits down next to you. You shift yourself so your back is against Mihawk’s chest, letting your head lay back on his shoulder. His arms wrap around your middle and he holds you against him as the heat of the water relaxes your muscles.

“Is there anything else you need?” He asks, placing a kiss to your temple.

Well… there was one thing.

Wordlessly you take one of his hands in yours, gently guiding his hand down your stomach and between your legs. Mihawk hums thoughtfully as he takes the lead, slender and agile fingers sliding down and gently circling your clit. You press yourself back against him as two fingers press into you and slowly work you open.

Mihawk isn’t in a rush, his movements careful and languid as he draws out pleasure from you. His other hand holds you close, rubbing lightly up and down your side as he other hand works. You let out breathy moans as he kisses your neck and jaw, knowing just the spots that make you crumble. You know he’s worked up as well, his erection pressing against your ass an unavoidable sign, but he does nothing to chase his own pleasure, only focusing on you.

You lose track of time as his fingers pump in and out of you with only the occasional pause to focus on your clit, keeping your pleasure drawn out until the water loses most of its warmth. Eventually it becomes too much and you don’t even realize how close you were until you’re cumming hard, walls contracting against Mihawk’s fingers. He helps you down, slowing but not stopping your movements until you’ve ridden out your climax, delicate kisses pressed into your skin.

You go to reach behind you to pay back the favor but Mihawk stops you. “Not today darling. You need to get some rest.”

Somewhat reluctantly you agree, letting him pull you out of the bath, dry you off, and wrap you in an almost comically fluffy robe before carrying you back to your bedroom. You let him tuck you in your bed, blankets wrapped snuggly around you.

“You can always come to me for some quiet. Just let me know love.” He says as he kisses your forehead and leaves your room, taking care to quietly shut the door behind him.

The pain wasn’t gone- it might never be- but knowing you had loving and caring partners made things just a bit better.

[raconteur-wanpi]

OK, let's talk eyebrow theory a bit.

I've seen a lot of posts on eyebrow theory, and there's probably other people who've expressed it better than me but I'd like to get my thoughts out just in case.

Anyway, eyebrow theory posits that, the direction of the Vinsmoke children's eyebrows showcases whether and which augmentations are/were successful on them. This is mostly based on the fact that Sanji's left eyebrow (our screen right) flips direction when he activates the "full power" of his mutation (or the "power of love", as he calls it).

Now as far as the rest of them go, some notes; For Reiju and Ichiji, this hasn't been 100% confirmed, and if somebody can find those 3D model screenshots again, I'd really appreciate that, since I don't remember what they were ripped off of! But even excluding those, there are a lot of panels in the manga (and anime screenshots) where it's pretty clear, despite their hair being in their way, that their eyebrows actually do have this symmetry, unlike their other three brothers. Also point to be made, that the swirls themselves are just something they all got from their father, and it's rather the strange directions they face toward that seems to be the result of the modifications.

Now for Ichiji, there is an inconsistency in how the edges of his eyebrows are drawn; there are a few cases where it matches Niji and Yonji, but whether that's a mistake or whether he "flips" like Sanji does, is unknown. It is interesting though, that the 3D model does indeed have him match with Reiju (again, please if somebody can find those again it'd be stellar).

That being said, a specific element of the theory is that their left eyebrow represents the body modifications, while their right eyebrow represents their emotional/brain modifications. If that's the case, than it'd suggest that Sanji's flip is only actually happening on his left eyebrow, the uncovered one that we get to see. This would make him match up with Reiju, which makes sense, since at the moment he is most like her, only having the body modifications with intact emotions. We can't actually know for sure until we get to see both at the same time during one of his flips.

This does, however, imply a lot of things about Ichiji if it were true, which doesn't really have any other evidence to it, but it sure is interesting to consider. Maybe Ichiji, like Sanji, isn't "consistent" and he experiences mutations, as a result of Sora's actions affecting more than just one child. He is easily the coldest and one of the cruelest of the quadruplets, but could that be him overcompensating and hiding? Perhaps that's wishful thinking, but I would genuinely find it very very intriguing if it were true!

EDIT: Here's the post with image additions, including the 3D models.

[safination]

Partners in Death…And Life

Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes

|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted| Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Parings: Alastor x wife! Reader. Tags: fem!reader established relationships, hopefully not but just in case ooc!Alastor (I'm trying my best, guys) Reader is in hell for a reason, Warnings: Very brief dissection of the human body. Kidneys Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me. I am sorry :D. These past *checks notes* three weeks (yikes) have been really busy for me. But I’m finally posting?

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The light from the bus stop illuminates Alastor’s block handwriting. Smiles are drawn on the edges of note with different colored ballpoint pens. Dear God, it was like looking at kindergarten art, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Alastor’s instructions tell you that his house is a ten-minute walk from the bus stop.

You flip the note, studying the map Alastor drew.

A bird caws from the patches of trees across the road. There’s no living soul out here besides your own for miles.

You tighten your grip on the straps of your bag, and walk until you find yourself standing before a wooden gate. The hatch unlocks easily, and you hike up the path until you’re stepping on to the porch.

Alastor’s house isn’t much��well, it’s much more than the tiny apartment in the city that you call home, but besides that, he has a very normal looking house. You don’t know why you expect anything different. The flowers on his windowsill brighten the place, and the rocking chairs by the edge makes it homier.

You smoothen your hair, fiddling with the note. A deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another—

Fuck it. You knock on the door.

A beat passes, and then another beat passes, and then another. Oh God, did he not hear your knock? Should you knock again? Your father always said that it was rude to knock twice, but you’re sure the knock should have been heard. Alastor was probably at the back of the house. You’re just going to knock again.

Alastor swings the door open, smiling at you. “You are right on time!”

Soft music plays behind him. The lights inside make his living-room look warm. “You said to be here by eight  . . .  so  . . .  Here I am!” you say with a light laugh. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “I’m very fond of being punctual.” Okay . . . hmmm . . . why did you say that?

You smoothen your hair, and fiddle with the straps of your bag.

 “I admire punctuality.” Alastor smiles at you.

You smile back.

He opens the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

‘Of course I would!’

All proper responses to his question. It’s a shame you don’t say them. You reach into your bag instead, and shove a paper bag into his arms. “It’s raw.”

Alastor lifts the paper bag, studying it with careful eyes until they flicker to the wet patches at the bottom. “ . . . I’m almost afraid to ask who it came from.”

You step through the door, and take off your coat. “My father, actually.”

Alastor tilts his head. “This is your father—am I supposed to cook him or something?”

“It’s venison!” you say, and run your hand through your hair. “Dad went hunting last week, and he gave me a bunch of meat and well . . . well, I thought you'd appreciate it more than I do. There’s too much for me to eat alone. And it’s always polite to give a gift when you’re visiting a home.”

Alastor secures your gift around his arms, and takes your coat. He’s smiling. You think he’s being genuine—you can’t really tell. “Thank you.”

He hangs your coat on the rack, and ushers you deeper inside his home. Alastor disappears into what you think is his kitchen, but you stay planted in his living-room floor. His house is nice for someone who lives alone. Things all have a place, they’re not necessarily organized, but it’s neat. It makes you smile.

It’s easy to see Alastor between the walls.

This is a home that’s been lived in. You count at least three portable radios in the living-room alone. There are books on the coffee table by the window, and the spines are creased as if it’s been read over and over and over again.

There’s a chair next to the window as well. It has stains, and the cushions sink as if they’ve been loved for decades. You can practically see Alastor in that chair, a warm drink in his hand. He’ll reach across, and twist the knob of the radio that already has his favorite station tuned.

Alastor strides out of the kitchen, your gift probably inside his freezer. “Follow me,” he says with a wave of his arm. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

There are photo frames lining the wall of his stairs.

You observe it as you follow deeper into this house. Some are photographs of what you’re going to assume is Alastor, and some are certificates. You don’t have time to poke around and read each and every one of them.

Alastor opens his arms, shaking them as he presents you with a door.

A single door . . . One door at the back of the house. A door you don’t know where it will lead.

You stare at him, and take one single step back. “You’re not going to kill me in your basement, right?”

Alastor laughs at you, wiping a tear for the sake of showing you. “Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m inside a man’s house, and he’s currently leading me to the basement. A man, might I add, dumps bodies in the forest,” you tell him with a wonky smile. “I hope you don’t go around asking every lady to your murder basement.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“My goodness, you really know how to make a lady feel extra special.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, tightening your grip to stifle the urge to smoothen your hair. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Alastor tilts his head. (It’s kind of cute.) “Do what?”

“You know . . . uh . . . . You’ll  tell me to run,” you say, then motion to the china vase behind. “Then I’ll grab this really nice and expensive looking vase and smash it over your head.”

“Please don’t.”

“And then I’ll make a run for the door.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You weren’t interested in running last time.”

“And I’m still not,” you say. “So there’s no point in killing me.”

He chuckles a bit and his glasses slide down his nose. He pushes it up. “Think of this as a gift! Or more like an offer of partnership.”

“A gift of death?”

“I've already told you I wasn’t planning on killing you anymore,” he says, sighing. “Just . . . just follow me, and you’ll see!”

You huff and cross your arms. “I detest being lied to.”

Alastor opens the basement door. The hinges creak. It appears as if darkness itself lives inside, swirling and eating up whatever light that passes through. “Yes, that’s good to know.”

You take another step back. “That’s a really creepy basement.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Alastor says. He places a light hand on your back, practically pushing you down. “Now, now, don’t be so stubborn.”

You grab the door frames, and push against him to resist. “I’m not going without knowing what’s down there.”

Alastor presses on your back. “If you go down there and see what I’ve prepared, you will feel very silly for causing such a ruckus.”

You push back harder, using the door frames as support. “As first dates go, this is giving really mixed signals,” you say, trying to smile. “I hope you don’t treat all ladies like this.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Just the stubborn ones.”

You and Alastor are at a stalemate. He pushes. You push back. The classic dilemma of an unmovable force versus an immovable object. “If you kill me, I will haunt you,” you say, digging your feet into the wooden floors. “I will haunt you, and hide all your tacky bow ties.”

Alastor stops pushing, and you fumble backwards from the lack of his opposing force. He points his nose to the air, straightening his bow ties. “It is not.”

You frown at him. “Oh . . . I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

Taking this opportunity, you press against the wall like a hissing cat. “I’m sorry you actually believe that!”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes one deep breath. He strides to you, and the world goes upside-down when he flips you over his shoulder. Alastor carries you like a common sack of worthless potatoes.

“I really don’t like this!” you shriek, angling your head to glare at him. Alastor has a surprisingly really nice back. Like . . . a really, really nice back.

Alastor meets your eyes and smirks. “You’ll like it in a second.”

He tightens his grip around your hips, and his boney shoulders dig into your stomach. You keep your eyes ahead. “You have a really flat butt.”

He pauses for a second. “Stop looking at it.”

“I will do as I please,” you say with a huff, and go limp in his hold as you accept your fate. “It’s just all pointy. Maybe some squats will be helpful?”

“If it’s such a horror to you, stop ogling my buttocks like a pervert.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” you say with a weird giggle. “These pants suit you well.”

He shakes you like a wet noodle. “I will drop you.”

“Please don’t.”

Alastor flips you, and your feet land safely on the ground. His basement is totally not creepy, totally not creepy at all. The fluorescent light bulb swaying around totally does not add to general horror. The blacked-out windows, and the spiderwebs on the wood make you not want to sprint to the top.

The cadaver bag on the table makes you stay.

It’s filled. You walk to the table, and observe the lump. Grasping the zipper, you pull it until the face of a dead man greets you. He’s fresh. Killed less than a day ago.

Alastor opens his arms, wide, as if to present to you. “Your studying can all be done right here!”

You stare at him, accepting the smile that creeps on your face. “Really?” you say, and trace this man’s nose with your fingers—his skin is cold. He is cold and dead, and full of organs you can poke around and observe. “You’re going to just allow me to dissect this body?”

Alastor smiles at you. “See?” he says. “You were making all the fuss, and now your smile could light up this very room.”

The laughter starts as a soft giggle that builds into excited glee. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor takes a step back. “Please don’t”

You roll your eyes then observe the person lying on this table. He wasn’t as big as the one before. This man still has the colors on his face, a bit pale, but he looks like he could just be in a sickly sleep. “Did you like this person?”

“Not at all,” he says. “He’d be alive if he was.”

“Then do you like me?” you say with a grin, placing a hand on your hips. “All this to get my attention, I see. I prefer being dined first, but not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Alastor glares at you as he makes a face. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“So quick to answer that it’s almost insulting,” you say. “Well, it was your decision to keep me alive.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that pierces your very core. The lightbulb makes a shadow pass over his eyes, and you swear his eyes glow. Every single cell in your body screams as Alastor looks down at you from his glasses with a smile and darkened brown eyes that match his well-kept brown hair. “And I’m currently debating my choice,” he says. “I do not like being mocked. I can still change my mind if I find you a weak link.”

“Oh . . . I . . . oh . . . .,” you say dumbly, coughing a little bit.  The words aren’t doing their job.

“Do you understand me?”

Basements are supposed to be cold—you definitely don’t feel cold right now. “I’m sure you can—I don’t doubt that at all.” To break your gaze on him, you turn to the dead man between you and Alastor. “This man didn’t suffer.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. “And?”

“I’m not a total idiot when it comes to . . .  uh . . .  hunting,” you say, tilting the dead guy’s chin to see his neck. It was a bit stiff. “There’s a single deep slice on his neck. He was probably still high on adrenaline when you killed him, but with the other body, you took your time. That guy suffered—this one didn’t”

He crosses his arms. “I don’t see your point.”

“Nevermind . . . just . . . ,” you start and smile a bit. “Thank you for preserving this body so well, but unfortunately, I think I’ll have to refuse.”

Alastor’s eye twitches as he takes a step closer to you. His shadow towers over you. “You’re refusing?”

You zip the man back into his bag. “You don’t need a partner,” you say. “If anything, bringing him back into your house is risky. If it’s my silence you want, you already have it. There’s no need for all this.”

“I never asked for your silence.”

“Yet it’s yours nonetheless,” you say. “Thank you for the gift or offer for partnership, but I’m not interested in going into business with you.”

“Is this not beneficial for you?”

“It is . . . it really is, and every fiber wants to give in but it’s not wise for me to get mixed up with you,” you tell him. “I think you’re mistaking my sin for gluttony. I know trouble when I see it, and I’m not afraid to flee from it.”

Alastor’s face twists as his smile turns into a snarl. “All you could ever want right here.”

“You obviously want something from me,” you say. “I know you’re not above using tricks to get what you want. Although, I don’t understand why you take such time out of your day to do such consuming things.”

He glares at you. “There’s always the chance that you’d say no,” he says. “And I can’t have that happen.”

“I decide if something is worth my time or not,” you say. “I will only ask once: what do you want from me?”

Alastor exhales, and pushes his glasses. “I’d like to watch you work. There’s something I want to confirm.”

You study him for a second. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then hand me a pack of gloves please,” you say. “I can show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Alastor tosses gloves to your face. It whacks you and lands on the table. You curse at him, and roll your eyes.

There’s a large container of formaldehyde under the table. You don’t know where he got it or how, but still, you take a stray brush forgotten on one of the tables, and brush the skin with chemicals. The sharp smell stings your eyes, but you’ve learned to tolerate it. Alastor scrunches his nose, taking a step back.  

Opening the window would probably be wise, but you could do that later. Your father always did hope that you’d grow out of your bad habit. But with such an exhilarating opportunity, caution is at the back of your mind.

The scapple fits into your palm as if it was made for you. Throughout this Earth, no . . .  not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

Alastor laughs, not the breathy and light kind, but in a loud and triumphant way. His eyes bulge out, looking like they could pop out any second “It seems I was not wrong,” he says. “You have the most precious smile I have ever seen.”

“Okay?”

Alastor leans closer to you, jerking your chin to face him. “All this time I’ve seen you; I have never seen your smile as true and honest as now.”

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The bristles of the brush tangle on your feathers. It’s a struggle to smoothen the feathers at the back of your head now that you live alone.

The clock strikes an hour past noon, and work will call for you soon. It would be nice to be one time if this motherfucking brush would do its fucking job! You tug on the handle, cursing when it jerks your scalp. The smack of your forehead on the vanity table echoes around the room. The feathers bundled on the floor make you screech. That’s it. It’s over. You are not taking another second of this.

Discarding the brush, you head to the kitchen.

You grab two mugs, and take two spoonful of coffee ground and feed it to the coffee machine. With only a press of a button, you make the most perfectly perfected perfect cup of coffee. You take both mugs and take a seat on that little side table inside the kitchen.

The second mug steams with coffee.

You plop your chin on the table, unable to draw your eyes aways as you stare at it. Making a second cup is a waste of your money. Deep down to your very core, you’re aware that it’s a waste. It strikes you with the gentleness of a plane crash every single morning you make it, and every single night you have to throw it away.

Silence is your companion in this empty house. Where are the days when soft music plays on the radio? Where are the days where light footsteps walk around the carpeted floors? Where are the days of stories over dinner?  These days watching television is the only way to fill that silence.

A knock breaks your pathetic moping.

The knocking starts out soft and hesitant, until it’s replaced with loud banging.

Swiping your mug from the table, you stride to the front door and swing it open. Charlie and Alastor stand in front of you, big smiles on their faces.

Your husband pushes a small ugly statue right up your face, presenting it to you with a self-satisfied smile. “I was told it was polite to bring a gift to a person’s home,” Alastor says. “Do you like it?”

“Oh no . . . ,” Charlie says, frowning a bit. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Alastor places a hand on her shoulder. “No worries then! This gift shall be from the both of us.”

The mug slips from your hold. Charlie catches it, not a single drop spilling, and plops it back on your hand. You blink at Alastor and frown. “Why are you knocking?”

“We’re here on super serious business talk,” he says, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to bring her closer. “Charlotte here has something to ask you.”

Charlie smiles. “Just Charlie, actually.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mug. “No.”

Alastor tilts his head. “No?”

“No, this is your home,” you say, opening the door wider. “There’s no need to knock.”

Alastor and Charlie step inside, and you take a sip of your coffee—a long, drawn out sip. Alastor walks to the shelf nearest the door, placing your ugly little statue on the shelf that’s meant for all other ugly knickknacks. It blends in with all the other gifts Alastor’s given you.

Charlie’s eyes bounce around the walls, eyes wide as she looks around. “Wooooaaaaah,” she says. “This is a really nice house you guys have!”

Alastor glares at the television. “Why, thank you!” he says. “I put in a lot of care into how it looks. It seems you’ve redecorated—I don’t like it.”

“Oh, you never do,” you say. “Let’s move to the kitchen, shall we?”

Alastor’s ears straighten. “The kitchen?” he echoes. “Oh yes. Let’s go the kitchen.”

Alastor hooks his arms around yours, pulling you to the kitchen. There’s determination set in each step. You and Charlie take your seats by the kitchen table. Charlie continues to look around. You see it in her eyes as they flicker around to count each radio.

It seems you’ve made a mistake.

Alastor goes straight to the refrigerator, and swings it open.

With horror, you watch as his gaze observes each level meticulously, humming as he does. There’s not much to look at, considering the only thing inside are a couple of eggs, empty plastic containers that you’ve been too lazy to wash, last week’s takeout, and a couple of sauces and condiments.

When he finally closes it, your shoulders sink as you exhale . . . until, of course , Alastor wraps his fingers around the freezer’s handle.

“Would you like anything, Charlie?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “I think we have juice or lemonade—”

“We don’t have any of those,” Alastor says, and his gaze bears down on you. “It makes me wonder what will be inside our freezer, my love.”

Charlie smiles brightly. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I had tea with Rosie this morning, and Alastor and I had lunch on the way here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” you say, chuckling nervously. “You know what? It’s such a hellish day today, and it would be a waste to spend it here. Why don’t we move to the garden?”

“No.” Alastor crosses his arm. “We are staying right here.”

You sulk in your seat, drooping a little. “ . . . okay.”

Finally, Alastor opens the freezer door. His twitching eyes and pursed lips tell you everything you need to know about how the next fifteen minutes will go. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, Alastor pulls out one of those microwave meals you buy at the grocery. He glares at the frozen chicken nuggets and pork cutlets, and all the processed frozen food you store there for easy meals.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say, giving him your most innocent smile. “And I barely eat those anyway. Those microwaved meals are just there for the occasional meal, I swear!”

Without uttering a single word, Alastor opens the cabinet under the sink where the trash can stays, and pulls it out. Empty microwave meals fill the brim. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh dear . . . ” Charlie winces. “That’s a lot, even for me.

You sulk deeper into your chair.

Alastor inspects the cabinets above the sink. The only things that greet him are a bunch of pots and pans. Relief pours into you . . . until of course, Alastor grabs the largest pot at the back of the cabinet and opens it, smashing any sense of relief with a metal bat.

Alastor pulls out a large pack of instant noodles. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks. “I remember telling you that I don’t like you eating these.”

“But they’re delicious,” you say, pouting a bit.

“These aren’t healthy,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re full of chemicals!”

“Everything is full of chemicals!” you counter. “And I only had a few. The dosage makes the poison.”

Alastor opens the trash can and tosses what was supposed to be your dinner. “The plastic said it was a pack of twelve?”

You cross your arms. “And? I don’t see your point.”

“There’s only two left.”

You fiddle with the handle of your mug. “I . . . I was busy . . . ?”

“We’re all busy,” he says and you could pick out the faintest sound of static. “Not a single fresh fruit or vegetable, or any proper meats. Have I taught you nothing?”

Your pout deepens. “Do we have to do this in front of Charlie, my deerest?”

Charlie raises her arms in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“Yes, one would think . . . .,” Alastor trails off. His eyes land on the second mug of coffee on the table, and his neck tilts to angle until it snaps. Static scratches that air until it warps. His eyes darken to reveal radio dials. “Expecting a guest today?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, and take a long and drawn-out sip of your coffee to try and compose yourself. It doesn’t work. “I don’t make coffee for guests.”

Charlie panics a bit. “There, there Alastor,” she says. “No need to get all crazy!”

Alastor’s antlers grow. “I’m aware you don’t. So, who is it for?”

“Oh . . . .” Dumbly blinking at him continues, and the words don’t seem to be doing their job.

Alastor leans closer, his voice morphing a bit. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“It's yours,” you find yourself saying. “ . . . If you want it, that is.”

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Charlie blinks at the both of you.

Gone are the growing antlers, and the static that buzzes your skin. Alastor stands before you with that never ending smile, perfectly normal—well, as normal as he can be. “You weren’t aware I’d be visiting.”

You frown at him. “It’s not a visit if it’s your own home.”

“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home,” he says. “Why make one for me?”

The heat on your face makes you turn away. “Just take it, deerest.”

“Taste lovely as always!” he says, taking a swig. Your frown turns into a soft smile as your watch him drink. “But don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation.”

“It really isn’t my fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I’m positive I taught you how to cook nutritious dishes.”

You flick the mug, and a soft clink echoes a bit. “I still cook proper food for myself,” you tell him, showing him your saddest smile. “But . . . I find myself hating the dishes.”

Alastor twirls his microphone, and it strikes the ground with a soft thunk. “And you think saying this will get you off the hook?”

You stick your tongue out. “Is it working?”

Alastor sighs at you, and turns to the ticking clock. “We’re wasting time—go talk to Charlotte.”

Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Just Charlie, actually.”

With a triumphant smile, you turn to Charlie. “So,” you begin, “what business are we going to talk about today?”

It’s Charlies turn to sulk into the kitchen chair. “Extermination is a month away,” she says. “And Adam is heading straight to the hotel first! It’s just one bad event after another because Heaven refuses to listen, and I’m running out of options.”

Alastor steps behind you. Suddenly, a brush combs through the back of your feathers, smoothing those parts of your head that you’ve never been able to reach by yourself.  Sometimes, you think Hell gave you feathers so someone could brush it for you. A part of you warms at the fact that you didn’t even need to ask your husband to smoothen your feathers. It’s a job he’s been doing since you first spawned in hell, and it seems it’s work he’s keen on continuing.

“Extermination,” you echo. “I love the extermination. There are so many desperate and poor souls who want to keep their limbs. I get rather busy—prime deal making opportunities right there.”

Charlie winces a bit. “Oh dear . . . um . . . okay. That sounds fun? And a little violent.”

Alastor speaks up from behind you, still running a brush through your feathers. “We can from Cannibal Town! Charlie was able to convince Rosie’s people to take arms.”

“Then, what brings you to me?” you ask, stiffening your back as you try not to lean into the brush that combs through your feathers. Alastor always was better at preening you. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Alastor suggested that I ask for your help,” Charlie says. “He said you’re one of the few people who knows how to fix wounds that come from Angelic Weapons.”

You bat your eyes at Alastor. “Spilling all my secrets, I see.”

Alastor glides the brush over your hair, leaning close to your ear. “Oh, not everything.”

You laugh and glance at Charlie. “In front of a guest, my deer?”

Charlie cringes with the most hilarious frown.

“It’s just a matter of counteracting the holiness of their weapons,” you say, clearing your throat. “After that, it’s purely medical.”

“How is that even possible?”

Alastor trails through your feathers, and it tingles and flutters. You keep your expression emotionless. “I’m surprised you don’t know this,” you say. “Did Belphegor never tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, eons ago, Belphegor found out that angelic weapons are considered holy, and that’s very bad for a Sinner,” you explain. “So, she and a bunch of her team found out that if you cut off the holy site or embed a large amount of Sinner energy, one will be able to treat it.”

Alastor leans closer, butting into the conversation. “I prefer it when you cut it off.”

“Of course you do,” you say with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Embedding the wounds with your magic takes too much energy from you, and because of that you always come home to me with sunken eyes. That is, if you don’t pass out before you reach the front door,” Alastor tells you. “I don’t understand why you go out of your way when they’re not worthy.”

“Worthy?”

“Yes, worthy,” he says. “Had they been competent, they wouldn’t need to go to you in the first place. It only proves that they’re weak.”

You smile at his words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.

Charlie rolls her eyes at the both of you. “So, you could help us?”

You twist, turning to Alastor. “I think you’ve gotten all my feathers straightened out,” you say. “My love, can you do me a favor?”

Lightly, Alastor taps your head with the tip of his cane. “Of course, how can I help?”

“I think the plants need some watering.”

The brush on Alastor’s hand dissolves with a poof. He leans closer once again, trailing your cheek with his finger until they hook on your chin. He captures you with his stare, and you allow him to trap you. He presses his lips on your cheek, and disappears into his shadow.

You take an even longer sip of your coffee.

Charlie massages her forehead, eyes twitching. “Dear Satan, it’s like watching my parents all over again! I can leave, you know,” she says, snorting. “Give you two a little privacy?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you tell her. “There wouldn’t be enough time.”

Her brows furrow. “Time?”

“After all, extermination is in a month,” you say, brightening your smile. “We’re going to need at least two.”

“ What the fuuuuck,. ” Charlie whispers underneath her breath, her voice a pitch higher.

“Every couple of years, there will be certain seasons where it takes six!” you say. “Sinner bodies are just so exhilarating.”

Charlie chokes on her spit, and her eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Hmmm, I could be—who knows?” You raise your mug to toast, and take a drink.

“You’re joking,” Charlie says. “ . . . Right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“My dear, is that a question you would want an answer to?” you ask. “Would you be prepared if the answer happens to be no ?”

Charlie sinks deeper into her chair. “Okay, then! Moving on, now.”

Leaning on your palm, you laugh. “My deerly beloved husband wouldn’t give all this information for free,” you say. “What did he ask for?”

“We made a deal.”

Your hands drop to the table. “Oh Charlotte,” you say. “That was a foolish mistake. You don’t know what Alastor does to the so—“

“I still have my soul!” Charlie exclaims, balling her fist. “From Vaggie! From you—his own wife! I did what I needed to do to keep my people safe . . . Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on Alastor,” you tell her with a small smile. “You can’t trust him.”

“He’s given me no reason no to trust him, and . . . ,” Charlie trails off. “And Alastor is my friend.”

Your smile brightens a bit. “Friend?”

“Yes?” Charlie says. “Everyone at the hotel is my friend, and he’s been a tremendous help.”

You place your hands over Charlies and give it a squeeze. “Convince me to help you.”

“W-what?”

“Alastor isn’t asking me to go play medic in the middle of a warzone.” Your brush your feathers out of your face. “If he was asking, I would say yes without a second thought because that’s who we are, but he isn’t asking me, Charlie, you are.”

Charlie hums, placing a finger on her lips as she thinks. “I heard from Angel that you and Alastor got married whe—“

CRASH!

She grips the table, eyes wide as she looks around. “What was that?”

You take a long and drawn-out sip of coffee, contemplating your choice for marriage. “Nothing to be worried about,” you say. “That was just my television.”

“Your Tv?” Charlie frowns a bit. “Did . . . did Alastor just throw away your Tv?”

You laugh, swatting your hand in the air. “Not at all!” you say. “It probably tripped out my window—those picture boxes are always so clumsy.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “You’re saying that your Tv . . . just tripped out the window.”

You smile at her. “You were saying something?”

She sighs, massaging her forehead. “You got married when you were alive, but continue to stay together. It’s very rare for Sinners to do such a thing,” she says. “And with all of that . . . uh . . . Alastorness.”

“It’s alright, you can just say bat-shit crazy.”

“I’d prefer not to,” she says with an awkward laugh. “So, how were you able to stay together for so long

“Are you . . . ,” you trail off, blinking. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

“A bit? If that’s okay,” she says. “Rosie already helped but, well, she did eat her first husband.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help.” Your lips purse. “Alastor and I don’t exactly have the most conventional marriage.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1927

“Do you like it?” Alastor offers you a spoonful of the simmering sauce.

You lean closer, shifting from your seat on his kitchen counter. Alastor dips the spoon in your opened mouth. “It’s spicy,” you say, lips twisting when you cough. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Alastor tilts his head. A lock of his hair falls to the side. “No . . . it’s not.” He takes back the spoon and dips it into the pan. Alastor coughs as soon as it hits his tongue. “How many peppers did you add?”

Your legs sway, and the heels of your foot tap the cabinets below you. “I added what was written on the recipe! Exactly twelve peppers.”

Alastor twists the stove’s knob, killing the fire. “Take a look at the notebook again,” he says and reaches over your legs, grabbing his book full of recipes. “If you use these things called ‘eyes’ and ready, you’d be able to see that it says, ‘one to two’!”

“No, it does not!” you huff, grabbing the notebook from him. You read through the list of ingredients. There, near the bottom, pass the four cloves of chopped garlic, half a shallot, and a pinch of pepper, ‘one to two peppers’ is scribbled with blocky letters. “Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me.”

Alastor adjusts his sleeves, pulling it back up his forearm. (Hmm, not a bad look.) “There’s no point in teaching you how to cook this if you don’t know how to read!” he says, eyes twitching. “Go . . . Just go over there and let me fix this.”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“No, you did not!” Alastor says, throwing his hands into the air. “What you said was,‘Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me’, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you repeat with a snort. “That’s my bad.”

“Get out of my kitchen before you ruin dinner.” He leans on the counter, crossing his arms. You hum to yourself. Alastor should pull his sleeves up more. “Go set the table or something. And wash your hair when you get home—it smells like chemicals.”

With a huff, you do as you're told.

You slide off his counter, opening the cabinet and grab two bowls with one arm and reach for the table placemats with the other.

Two sets of utensils, glass cups, and paper napkins. It’s one more set than what you prepare when you’re at your own home. Two . . . Two. It’s becoming quite the word in your vocabulary.

There’s a proper table waiting to be used in the other room, but this smaller one you’re setting, with its fraying edges and turmeric stains suit the both of you much better.

Three ice-cubes bobble at the top of Alastor’s water. It’s how he likes it. It’s funny. You don’t remember Alastor disclosing this particular information. It’s just something you noticed one day, and you’ve never stopped noticing. What else have you unconsciously learned about him, and what have you unconsciously taught him about you?

Alastor walks to the table, a large steaming bowl in his hands. He places it between the bowls, and you reach into the drawer for a ladle.

The taste tingles your tongue. It’s good. Better than anything you could possibly make for yourself.

You reach into your pocket and toss a handkerchief at Alastor’s face. It lands on between his hair. He tilts his head, shaking it, and the cloth slides on the table. “It’s yours,” you tell him, taking a spoonful of your food. “Thanks for dinner.”

Alastor studies how his name is embroidered in near letters, thumbing the music notes framing it. “Dinner was a way to thank you for this week’s meat.”

He tosses back the handkerchief. It smacks your face.

You peel it from your skin, and trace the letters you’ve threaded during your very scarce free time. “I can’t go around with a handkerchief that has your name on it.”

His smile widens. “Why not?”

“People would think I’m a fan.” You hand Alastor the handkerchief this time. “Just take it as a gift then.”

Alastor takes it from you, and places it into his pocket.

You hum into your spoon with a pleased smile. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor takes his time chewing and swallowing his food. “As you can see,” he tells you, “I’m eating.”

“I’m bored,” you say. “Eat while you talk.”

He reaches across the table, and his fingers catch on the knob of the radio to turn it on.

Classical music plays out of the speaker. It was correct to assume that Alastor pre-sets radios to play his favorite stations. Although, you didn’t imagine that each of his many radios would have their own specific station. A different radio for different stations. You questioned Alastor about it, but he didn’t say much.

Once the bottom of the bowls has been scraped into your stomachs, you take the dishes and go to the sink.

Your nose scrunches at the sight of the piled dishes. Alastor watches you with a smile. You turn away when you notice.

Alastor takes a container from the cabinet above your head. He’s warm. Always warm.

He takes two containers, placing the leftovers inside. And there it is again, that word—Two. Not one, but two. One for him. One for you. You didn’t ask for leftovers. You’ve never asked at all. Alastor will just hand you the container like it’s the most automatic thing in this world for him to do.

You take the first of many bowls, and rinse the stubborn pieces with your hands. “There’s too many dishes,” you say. “It’s like you have one for every ingredient. Did you really need to use separate ones for each and every ingredient we used?”

He leans on the counter, slotting himself next to you.  “I don’t like mixing the flavors until it’s time to add them.”

Alastor adjusts his pulled sleeves and crosses his arms.

The bowl slips from your grip.

“Oh . . . I . . . uh . . . sorry,” you say, picking up the bowl. “I mean, you really didn’t need one for the salt and pepper. They already come in containers—why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, eyeball it?”

“Eyeball it?”

“Yeah, or feel it with your soul or something,” you say and pick up the measuring spoons to show him. “You had to measure three pinches of salt instead of actually just pinching it.”

Alastor laughs, and strands of his hair slide down to his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Your shoulders slump when you sigh. “Good.”

He bumps his shoulders with yours. “That’s just the way I was taught.”

“Well,” you start, “your way creates more dishes for me to clean.”

Alastor pivots from the counter, and takes his place in front of the second sink. He grabs the dish you’ve already rinsed and sponges it with soap. It’s quite the system you’ve created. You grab a dirty dish, rinse it, and pass it on to Alastor who cleans it with a sponge.

The next minute goes something like this:

Alastor flicks water at your face. You ignore it.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

The water damps your hair. You kick his leg. “Stop that.”

Alastor drenches his hand under the faucet, letting his fingers accumulate water. He flicks it at you.

The grip you have on the plate tightens. “I am going to smash this on your head.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. He glares. You glare back. He cups his hand under the faucet like a bowl. The water pools between his hands. He throws the water at you. It hits your eyes, blinding you. That does little to stop you.

You grip the plate, swinging it in his direction.

The plate doesn’t connect with anything . . .  Sadly. You rub the water out your eyes, and find Alastor kneeling on the floor with a triumphant smile.

Alastor stands up, brushing dirt from his pants. “You missed.”

“You ducked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he says. “What if you actually hit me?”

You pass the plate to Alastor before you scratch the urge to swing at that smug smile of his. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor closes the faucet. “You always ask me that.”

“That’s because you say it in entertaining ways,” you say. “It’s boring to wash the dishes without something to distract me.”

Alastor soaps the dish. “Your lessening attention span worries me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and flick water at his face. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says. “I find myself having no reason to deny you.”

Alastor’s glasses slide down his nose. He leans close enough for you to smell his perfume. He’s warm—always warm. It takes a second for you to understand. You dry your hands on a stray towel and fix it in place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1928.

The metal bench cools the back of your neck.

The sun blinds your eyes, but you keep a steady gaze on the afternoon beams. When was the last time you felt the heat of the sun kiss your skin? As the seconds tick by. As the birds fly above you. As the leaves fall from their stem, melting on this bench seems like a heavenly idea.

But as the clock will eventually strike. But as the birds will eventually find their nest. But as the leaves will eventually land. So, too, must you eventually go back to work.

A shadow blocks the sun.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Alastor’s upside-down face smiles at you. “Good morning to you!”

With a yelp, you swing your forehead forward.

Alastor leans backwards, narrowly missing your head by centimeters. “Not the greeting I imagined, but hello to you as well,” he says. “The receptionist said I could find you here.”

You twist, turning to him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Alastor slides over the bench, and takes the free seat next to you. His legs cross. “Why would I not be, okay?”

There’s some bag slung over his shoulder, but that’s not important right now. Your eyes trail his body. Hair? Fixed. Smile? Wide. Clothes? Perfect. “You’re at a clinic.”

Alastor swats his hand. “I was in the area.”

That classic city stench attacks your nose, but it’s just nice to feel the way your hair sways from the breeze. “You’re not going to kill me, right?”

Alastor nudges his leg with yours. “You say that every single time!”

Your smile turns smug. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops becoming funny.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, showing it off to you. “It never was.”

“It is to me,” you say and wave your hands in the air. “Just imagine this, the great Alastor had to stalk me!”

“I am great, but remind me again,” he begins, propping his arm on the bench to lean on it, “how long did you have to follow me?”

Sighing, you lean your head on the backrest to count the clouds. It’s nice to be able to see actual clouds for once instead of the drawing of children who wait. “ . . . Three months.”

“Exactly,” he says, and you hear the smugness in his words. “And I didn’t need to do any stalking—you led me straight to your house.”

You blow a raspberry at him. “Why are you even here then?”

Alastor props his legs on your lap. You push him off. He brings it back. It’s not worth fighting him right now. “I actually was in the area,” he says, and hands you the bag slung over his shoulder. “The director thought it would be a grand idea to bring the staff out to lunch.”

You unzip the bag, and packed lunch greets you. And there it is again. Two. Two. Two. One for you. One for him. Maybe both for you? “Al, tell me why I’m currently looking at two packed lunches?”

Alastor beams at you, and slides his legs off your lap. “I accidentally cooked too much today,” he said. “I thought it would be a grand idea to share.”

Your frown. “But . . . you already ate.”

“Oh . . . I was already planning on dropping by,” he says. “It was quite the stroke of luck that you’re only taking your break now, and that we happened to have lunch nearby. I thought I’d bring you a treat.”

Questions bubble on your throat. “Thank you, Al,” you say instead. You open the container and take a bite, savoring the taste. “It’s delicious.”

Alastor leans closer, and picks a leaf off your head. “That’s because I actually followed the recipe.”

You point your spoon at him. “That was just that one time!”

He smiles at you, chuckling softly. “Three actually.”

Before the clock strikes, it will tick. Before the birds find their nest, they will fly. Before the leaves hit the ground, it will fall. And before you eventually go back to work, you will eat on this bench, Alastor to your side.

He stares ahead. As you eat, you watch his eyes flicker. It goes from the kid then to a plant then to an old lady. This, you don’t question. You’ve stopped wondering what he could possibly be thinking years ago.

Alastor leans closer to your ear. “Do you see that lady?” he asks, voice low. His breath tickles your skin. “That one over there with the feather on her hat?”

You scan the people around the area, spotting the lady old enough to be your grandmother. A scarf wraps around her neck, despite the sun beaming with the afternoon heat. She lazily walks around. “What about her?”

“Do you think her name could be Edith? She looks like an Edith,” Alastor says. “She probably had three children, and married young when her parents forced her to marry this ugly but rich man she could never love.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. It’s like a mantra that plays in your head. There’s no reason not to play along whatever nonsense he’s spouting. “Sure, why not?”

“But no!” he exclaims into your ear. You jerk away and shove him with an elbow. “Oof . . . .Edith just had to defy all expectations, and she chose to elope with her childhood sweetheart. He’s not the richest man, but they survived.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And to this day,” he says, “everyone still calls her, ‘Edith the Penguin’.”

“Edith the penguin?” you echo. “Now I’m just confused.”

Alastor’s eyes shine. “Because she walks like a penguin with their ass on fire,” he snorts. “Your turn, now.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

“Fine.” You place your spoon down, and look around to the first person who grabs your attention. “That little kid over there—His name is Thomas, and he likes balloons.”

Alastor blinks at you. “And?”

You take your time chewing and swallowing your food. “That’s all.”

He gawks at you, and rolls your eyes. “It must be so boring to be you.”

“It is not!” You huff at him, and kick his leg. “I am a very interesting person, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh really, now? Thomas, and he likes balloons?” Alastor says,and points at the kid with twitching eyes. “He’s holding a balloon!”

You wave your arms, the spoon still in your grip. “So, he probably likes it!” you say. “Thomas wouldn’t get a balloon if he didn’t like it.”

“I pity your sense of imagination.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

You swallow what remains inside the container, and pack it up. “Is this what you do when you zone out as I’m tal—and you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” you say. “You are an incredibly judgmental person.”

“It’s called using my imagination. Something you apparently don’t have,” he says with a snort. “So . . . tell me what you did today.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s my question.”

Alastor shrugs, taking the closed container and zipping it inside his bag. He hands you a tissue. “Well, I’m asking it now.”

You prop your arm on the bench, leaning on it. Alastor’s hair spikes out in odd places today. It must have quite the trek to the clinic. “I’m not as good a storyteller as you are.”

He props his arms on the bench, mimicking your pose. His eyes stare straight into yours. “ I don’t need a story,” he says. “I just want to know what you did today.”

You press your palm on his face, pushing him away from your face. The sun’s heat is really getting to you. Alastor’s nose crinkles as he rubs it. “Why would you even want to know what I do?”

Alastor props his elbows on his knees, observing the people around him. “You always ask me what I did,” he says. “I want to know if there’s something special about it.:

“There’s nothing special about it,” you tell him. Was there actually? You’re not sure. “I just like knowing, and it always entertains me.”

Alastor meets your eyes with a wide smile. “Then tell me what you did today,” he says. “Entertain me.”

The clock ticks closer. The birds are already close to their nests. The leaves are already floating to the ground. You are already close to going back to work, closer to this moment becoming nothing but a distant memory. “That was my first meal of the day.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a hard scowl. “That’s not healthy.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. “I never said it was.”

“How would you live without me?”

Remember, Alastor brought you lunch, and it would be nice if he could bring you lunch again. “I’m going to hit you.”

Alastor bumps your knees with his. “Lovely,” he says, and you can hear the smile he’s wearing. “I’m sure it will be very painful because you’re so full of energy right now.”

Eyes still shut, you bump his knees back. “I’ve been busy,” you say. “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “First of all, we’re all busy,” he says. “Second, I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You did—it was audible,” you tell him with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, there’s nothing new with my day. It’s just the usual, people to see, files to file, blood to draw, pee to get on me.”

Alastor digs his finger into your cheek, twisting it as he presses down. “Wow, you really are a horrible storyteller.”

You know what, maybe you don’t need Alastor bringing you lunch. You peek open an eye to stare at him. “I’m going to smash a plate on your head once we start doing the dishes.”

Alastor mashes your cheek like some button. Over and over and over and over again. You swat his hand, and he rubs it with a grimace. “Were you planning on dropping by today?”

You place an arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun. “Will I have to do the dishes?”

“You don’t have to specifically do the dishes.”

You comb through your hair with your fingers. “That wouldn’t exactly be fair to you.”

“If you're so insistent, we can find something else for you to do,” he says. “I mean, if you hate it so much you don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t hate it,” you say with a sigh. A church bell sounds. It echoes through the buildings and through the trees. “Al . . . I’m tired.”

“I know,” he says, and you hear how softly he chuckles. “Your eyes are drooping so low I could fill the entire ocean in them.”

“I want to sleep, Al.”

“I know.”

“I hate this job.”

Alastor pauses for a second, and he bumps his shoulders with yours. “You don’t.”

The clock hasn’t struck yet. The birds haven’t flown to their nests. The leaves haven’t reached the ground. And so too will you stay in this moment of time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1929

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs. The sound is ignored, just like every other thing that isn’t relevant to you.

The dead cadaver under you has weird kidneys. The one on your palm is too small for a kidney that belongs to someone of his size. You take your scalpel, slicing it to observe the cross section.

“It’s time to stop,” Alastor tells you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Him and his smile is not important right now. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Leave me alone,” you mumble. The human body continues to be amazing. The medulla is clearly outlined. The colors of its cells were so different from the cortex. “ . . . Kidneys, Alastor. He has weird kidneys. Hehehehe weird kidneys . . . ”

Alastor says your name in a way that forces you to listen.

“ . . . Oh . . . yes?” you say a bit dumbly.

“It’s nightfall,” he says, and the tone of his voice buzzes your skin. “Come on now, do as you're told. Be upstairs in fifteen minutes.”

It’s not an easy task to do as Alastor says, especially when this man’s left kidney is a whole different size from the right. However, with a frown, you slot the kidney from the opened chest cavity, and pack up the body.

You step out of the basement, and walk to the kitchen.

There’s a plate waiting for you on the table. It’s still hot. Muffled music plays from the porch, and you see Alastor’s outline through the windows. Taking your plate, you step out the front door and into the outdoors.

(Something you really need to start seeing more.)

And oh . . . he’s not listening to the radio. Alastor plays the recording of his show. It was a present you got him a few months back.

You take your seat on the matching rocking chair.

Alastor watches you settle into your seat. He turns the volume down. “Tables were invented for a reason.”

The chair rocks when you swing your legs. “It’s nice out here,” you say, and take a bite of vegetables. “The sky is much clearer. It helps that there’s no stench of piss.”

He turns to you with a small smile. “That’s because you live in the city.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You push it out of the way. “Hey, Al,” you say slowly. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Why should I?”

You lean back into the chair, letting the rocking sway you. “Well, you got home late,” you say. “I had to use my keys.”

Alastor leans back on the chair, using the tips of his shoe to rock himself. “Yes, that was the point of the keys,” he says, humming. “It would be a shame to come home to another broken window.”

The taste of the vegetables mixed with the meat makes you smile in delight. “Are you still holding on to that?”

“Always.”

“I paid you back, eventually,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him. “Why are you still holding a grudge for an honest accident?”

On his cheek , where it’s always been and where it’ll always be, his smile strains. “You expect me to believe that a rock smashing my window was an honest accident.”

You offer him your most innocent smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope your windows are much sturdier then,” he says, mimicking your smile. “One of these days, I might cause an accident.”

The stars twinkle in the sky. There’s a vast amount of knowledge those gassy balls hold. Maybe your life would be less horrific if you were interested in the stars instead. “In my defense, you were late.”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes?”

You take another bite of your meal, and sway happily to do a little dance. “Just . . .  okay? Just tell me what you did before I finish my meal.”

Alastor reaches into his pocket and tosses a keychain at you. It lands between your legs.

You set the plate on the coffee table between you, and hold the keychain to the light. It was a cute, little cartoon alligator. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“I can tell that much,” you say, twirling the gift between your fingers. “You never give me nice knickknacks. It’s always the ugly ones

Alastor huffs at you. “That doesn’t sound like my problem anymore,” he says. “I thought you would appreciate something that looks halfway decent one and for all.”

“I find the ugly ones really charming, actually. They’re very funny to look at,” you say. “So, where did you get this?”

Alastor clasps his hands, resting it on his stomach as he rocks himself. “Saw an advertisement. Went to the zoo.”

You scrunch your face. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Go finish your meal.”

You pocket his gift, and grab the plate on the table. “Master of storytelling right here, ladies and gentlemen,” you say, barking a laugh. “I figured you would love the excuse of hearing yourself talk.”

Alastor ignores you, reaching for his notepad instead.

You watch Alastor as he writes on his notepad. The breeze sways a strand of his hair. His lips twist when he thinks, just like he’s doing right now

Your eyes fall on your plate, to where vegetables and meat were carefully tossed together. Alastor cooked today—he always cooks.

When you finish, you’ll grab the plates, and begin the mountain of dishes. Even when dish soap stings your fingers, even when the feeling of wet food grosses you, and even when thousands of dirty dishes wait for you . . . it’s something you don’t mind.

Once this meal is finished, you and him will step inside. He’ll properly tell you about his day, and you’ll take the pan and scrub it.

Ah . . . there it is again. That word—Two.

But it’s not two of anything. It’s simply just two. You and Alastor.

“You’re frowning,” Alastor says. He stares at you from the corner of  his eyes. “Why?”

It’s weird.

Very weird.

You don’t . . . You don’t understand. How do you say the words you do not know how to explain?

It’s almost as if . . . “We should get married.”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the open land. “No.”

The inside of your cheek stings from how you bite it. You turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. “I . . . It just came out, okay?” you mumble. “I’m really trying not to be offended that you turned me down without a second thought, and with a laugh as well.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m nothing you want.”

The moonlight reflects off his brown eyes.

“Sometimes . . . ,” you begin, and a small smile appears on your lips. “Sometimes I wish you see yourself the way I see you.”

Alastor laughs at you again. “You’ve been having such thoughts about me?” he says. “What an absolute honor! I’m deeply flattered.”

“And then you say words like that, and I immediately know it’s not worth it

Alastor lifts his eyes from his notepad to peek at you. He fixes his eyeglasses. “You don’t actually think we should get married.”

To be infuriating, you take a bite from your plate, savoring each flavor with drawn out chews.

“I have no idea,” you say. “But . . . I mean, why not? There are many good reasons for me to marry you—it’s advantages for me, and everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad, shaking his head. “That’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What, being in a relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s twice you’ve managed to offend me.” You laugh to hide your frown. “But that friend of yours. The feathery one from the lounge you like taking me to.”

Alastor tilts his head. “Mimzy?”

“Ah yes, her,” you say with a hum. “She asked me if you um . . . uh . . .  well, if you liked vanilla or hot and spicy.”

“If I had to answer, Id say hot and spicy?” Alastor says, and you laugh at the confusion on his face. “I got a bottle of this pepper flakes infused with old. It was quite the treat.”

“That’s exactly what I figured you would say,” you tell him.“Unfortunately for you, Mimzy was talking about sex.”

Alastor scrunches his face.

“Oh don’t make such a face, there is absolutely no need to be afraid of the prospect of such activities.” The final bite of your meal bursts with so much flavor that you revel it for a second. “Al, let’s get married.”

Alastor glares at you. “No.”

You place the plate on the coffee table. It can be  washed after this conversation. “Why not?”

He points his pen between you and him..“We aren't even dating,” he says. “And . . . I can’t express such passionate displays of affection.”

You rock the chair with your shoe. An owl hoots from somewhere beyond the trees. Huh, you weren’t aware owls lived in this area. “Don’t be a child—just say sex.”

Again, his face scrunches. “I will not.”

“It’s a really good thing,” you say, sighing, “that no one’s asking.”

Alastor searches for your eyes. He holds it. It was only ever his to hold anyway. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in romance.”

You look around, whipping your head. “I think I’m missing the part where someone asked.”

“Be serious.”

“Okay fine. This is me being serious because I am when I say that all I don’t need your romance—Al, you accepted me for who I am, and to me? That is enough,” you say with a soft smile. “You are all I could ever ask for.”

Alastor stares at the stars, his eyes capturing each one. “I can’t love you like a husband should.”

The stares are really beautiful. Each shines in their own way. Alastor sees the beauty in them, but you aren’t going to be beaten by a gas ball.

Tonight, you will be the only star Alastor should keep his gaze on.

“Alastor, look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on the stars.

Huffing, you stride to his chair, and block his view of the night sky.

You plant your arms on the armrest for support, and inch your face so close that you are the only thing he will see. “Alastor,” you say his name, voice oh so soft, “look at me.”

Oh . . . his eyes are browner than you thought. It’s a deep and dark brown that pulls you in.

“You can love me in ways that matter.” You press your forehead against his, and close your eyes.

There are more words to be said, but right now you and him stay in this moment of time. Just . . . for . . . a second.

“I will never force you to love me in ways you cannot,” you whisper. The ends of his hair brush against your skin. “Alastor, I could never reject the type of love you can offer me. I can never deny you.”

Alastor caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Friends don’t get married.”

Impulsivity was such a bad habit of yours. It’s a fact that makes you bear the consequences, but consequences be damned. You take his hand, holding it in yours. The pads of his fingers have different textures. Some are smooth. Some are rough. But the whole thing warms you to the touch.

It’s unfair. He’s unfair. How could something as simple as taking his hand intoxicate?

Your lips hover over his skin, brushing it a little. Alastor doesn’t pull away. With a smile that Alastor always seems to put on your lips, you plant a soft kiss on his ring finger.

“We aren’t normal people. There’s no reason to force ourselves into a conventional relationship.” You meet his eyes with a smile. Every word you utter brushes your lips yo his skin. “This marriage will be defined however we want. You offered me a partnership in death . . . .This is me offering you a partnership in life.”

You press your lip on the back of his hand one final time, and return to your chair.

Alastor doesn’t speak.

You rock yourself with your foot, enjoying the sway of the chair.“There is that added benefit that the police won’t be suspicious of a doting husband.”

Alastor scrunches his face. “Doting husband?” he echoes. “I thought we wouldn’t be having a normal marriage.”

“That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t want to feel special,” you say, snorting. “I’ve always dreamed of a doting husband.”

Alastor rips a page out of his notepad. He folds it with his hands.

His vets match his shoes today. The hair on the back of his head sticks out and curls. Did he take a nap today? “I could be like this every single night,” you say softly. “You and me. The two of us under the stars until our hairs turn gray.”

Alastor’s gaze stays locked on the piece of paper he’s folding. “Why me?”

You stare at him with a smile, and lean your face on your palm. “Does it need to be said?”

Alastor glances at you with those brown eyes of his. “I’m asking.”

“It’s because . . . It’s . . . I . . . ,” your trail off. How do you summon the words to describe something you don’t understand?

There’s a smug smile on Alastor’s lips. “What, is it because you love me?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?” you say, chuckling into your arm. “But . . . well, I don’t exactly know how to properly say this.”

“Just open your mouth,” he says, rolling his eyes, “and let the words do it’s job.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” you tell him, and your cheeks tingle. “Maybe even past life. Can you imagine that? You and me in hell, doing our dishes together.”

There’s an odd look on his face. “Sure.”

“We can listen to the radio,” you say. “And I’ll ask you about your day, and you will tell me the wildest and most grandiose story while we clean a pot.”

Alastor smiles at you. “You hate doing the dishes.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I see it—I always do,” he says with a soft chuckle. Alastor taps his nose. “Your nose scrunches every time, yet you never ask for help.”

What expression are you making right now?

You bring your legs to your chest. “I’m willing to give up everything for dirty dishes if it means I have you as a companion for the rest of my life.”

Alastor turns back to whatever he was folding.

You hide your face in your legs, face flushed and warm. “Say something . . . please,” you say, whispering. “I just poured out my heart for you

You hear Alastor rise from his seat. He places a hand on your head. “Today’s dinner . . . ,” he says, and his voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Did you like it?”

You smile even if he couldn’t see it, and lean into his hand. “It was one of the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it for you for the rest of my life . . . if you’re willing to wash the dishes with me for the rest of yours,” Alastor says, and you think this is the most honest thing he’s ever told you. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t want it, this is yours now.”

You peek out of your knees. Alastor’s smile is soft. He opens his palms and your eyes flicker to them. He shows you what he’s been folding. It’s the paper of his notepad folded into a ring—a paper ring.

“Do it again,” you say with a beam that could rival the stars. “Ask me again.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, the back of his finger brushing down your skin. “Doting husband?”

“Exactly,” you say with a laugh and lean into his touch. “You catch on very quickly.”

Alastor takes your hand in his, and his thumb brushes over your ring finger. Does he feel your skin the way you feel his? He kneels on one knee and the paper ring is presented to you. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You insert your ring finger into the paper ring. “The honor would be mine, my dearest.”

Alastor stares at you.

You stare back.

 The moment your eyes settle on one another, laughter echoes across the land. It’s loud and breathy, and it echoes so far that the local wildlife gets disturbed. Alastor settles back on his chair, rocking himself.

Alastor calms down first. “Oh . . . uh . . . Should we share a passionate kiss?”

The stars shine above you. Not a single gas ball can beat the brightness of your smile. “Do you want to?” you ask. “Be honest, my dear.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “Not particularly—Do you?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” you say with a shrug. “I could live a happy life without such passionate kisses.”

“Really?” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you laugh. “You would be fine without one?”

“Well, since you’re so insistent, I’ll allow a kiss.”

Alastor snorts into the air. “And where and when would you want such a kiss?”

You hold him in your gaze. There’s so much to learn, so much to figure out. It’s alright. There will be time. “Anywhere and anytime, you want, my love.”

“You’re going to give me control?” he asks. “Is this not something you would want as well?”

“I’ll make this easy enough for you to understand,” you tell him, tracing the paper ring around your finger. “I demand a kiss whenever you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

Alastor hums, looking away to study the woodcarving on his chair. He picks on them. “I supposed if you need anyone to fulfill your needs I only as—”

“Just say sex, my dearest,” you say, and Alastor sinks into his chair with a huff. “That will never happen. This isn’t a friendship, my love. I am entering a relationship with you. No matter how unconventional, it is still ours.”

Alastor locks your eyes with a pleased smile. “Good.”

The rocking chair rocks you into a small lull. “My dear.”

“Yes?”

“My love.”

Alastor sighs. “Yes?”

“My dearest,” you say. “Would you want to share a bed?”

Alastor stays silent. There’s hesitation on his face. You see it in the way his lips twist. You see it in the way his eyebrows furrow. You see it in the way he leans back on his chair to stare at the stars.

“Okay then, we can circle back to that later,” you say with a soft chuckle. “How about a room—Do you want to share one?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, staring at you with silent judgment. He is a book that you are allowed to learn. There’s so much to read, and so much still left to be read. That’s okay. There’s time. No matter how long. You have time.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, we can share a room without sharing a bed,” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. “We can even have bunk beds. That would be cool. I’ve always wanted a bunk bed.”

Alastor rests his face on his palm to look at you. There it is again, the breathy and light laughter. “We are not sleeping on a bunk bed.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie’s smile slowly morphs into a frow that you cannot decipher. It makes sense that you can’t. Afterall, she is not the book you’ve spent your life learning to read. “You . . . You don’t actually love each other?”

There’s a frame hanging on your kitchen wall that says otherwise.

It holds an art piece you embroidered for the sole purpose of giving it to your husband. The color of the wooden frame compliments the colors of the thread as if it was carefully chosen to match. The one here in the kitchen is but one of many frames around the house. Alastor keeps every single item safe beneath the glass to to be admired.

There’s a shelf standing on the living-room carpet that says otherwise.

It holds ugly knick knacks that Alastor bought for the sole purpose of giving it to his wife. It’s a pain to dust the shelves, but not a speck of dirt touches its surface, as if it was carefully taken care of. The one in there in the living-room is but one of many shelves around the house. You keep every item spotless to be admired.

“We’re not heartless,” you say. “Alastor and I don’t have the same relationship you and your girlfriend have.”

Charlie sways in her seat, a hand rests on her chin when she hums. “ I am so sorry,” he says. “I think it’s great and all that, I’m just having trouble understanding.”

“It’s not exactly for you to understand.” You take a sip from your mug.

“So it’s not a relationship,” Charlie says. “Sooooo, is it like a really really deep friendship?”

“The lines between us are so blurry that it’s become deeper than friendship,” you admit with a small smile. “I just know that my soul is connected to him in ways I do not know how to tell him.”

“Is that really possible?” Charlie asks. “To just . . . love each other so differently?”

“Can our relationship not just . . . exist?” You lean on your palms. “Do you really think it’s so impossible for two people to just . . . to just look forward to cooking and washing the dishes together?”

Charlie’s eyes brighten. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. “So like—”

“Charlie . . . if I sit here and answer all of your questions, we’re going to waste time.” You play with the fiddle of your mug. “You didn’t come here for relationship advice.”

“Oh . . . yes.” Charlie sits there. Her smile slowly falls into a frown. “I’ve been thinking of how to convince you to help me, but I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I don’t want to force you either.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You haven’t exactly asked for my help either.”

Charlie blinks at you. “ . . . Huh?”

You raise your mug to toast to her. “If you want my help, just ask for it.”

Charlie grabs your hand with a tight grip. “Please, help me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to drag Cannibal Town into an all-out war without knowing there was a way to keep them safe.”

“Sure, why not?” You pull your hand away.

A loud squeal bounces off the walls.

Charlie pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. She hauls you with all the strength of a hellborn princess.  Your feet drag against the floor as she pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

Charlie drops you with a wince on her face. She stares at the broken window, and the obviously missing television.

You trip out of her hold.

Alastor wraps his hand on your shoulders, steading you against him until you find your balance. His touch lingers on you.

The television shaped hole on your glass window makes your eyes twitch.

Alastor steps away from you, twirling his microphone. It strikes the floor with a harsh thunk. “Oh, yes that,” he says. “It seems there was an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, really now?” you say, placing a hand on your hips. “I would love to know exactly how that happened.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and his arms wave the air. “The clumsy boxed tripped right out the window.”

Your smile strains. “That is rather unfortunate,” you say. “What a shame, I rather liked that television. It’s been a constant companion, and never has it once disappeared on me for several years.”

Alastor glares at you.

You glare back.

“I would love to help you clean this mess,” Alastor says with that triumphant smile of his.

Would a second broken window be worth trouble if it means there would be an Alastor-shaped hole?

“Perfect!” you say. “I’m sure you still remember where we keep the broom.”

Alastor boops your nose. “Unfortunately, the cannibals will be meeting us at the hotel,” he says. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Say goodbye to my wife, Charlotte.”

Charlie opens her mouth to correct him. She changes her mind at the last minute, choosing to sulk with a wave instead.

Alastor opens the door, allowing Charlie to step out first. She strides to the flowerbeds, kneeling to observe the plants.

Alastor stills by the door frame.

He inches close enough for you to reach him. The fabric of his lapels smoothen as you adjust its fit on him.

A breeze tussles Alastor’s hair. You swipe the stray locks, brushing his hair away from his forehead, until . . . until the x that marks the gunshot catches your eyes. Frowning, you thumb the mark, caressing it with oh so soft touches. There was a time where you believed that you and him had all the time in the world. Death laughed at you that night.

Alastor watches you, taking your wrist to pull it away.

He leans closer, and picks a feather on your head. “Will you indulge me?” he asks. “There’s just something I want to ask of you before I leave.”

“Say it, and it will be yours.”

Alastor pokes his cheeks, mimicking a smile. “Just one of these from you will do—Something to power me through the day.”

With a soft chuckle, you widen your lips to show him the brightest smile you can muster. “Is that much better, my love?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “Indeed,” he says. “You’ve been frowning for a while now.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Have I?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You have,” says. “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s nothing serious to you,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “It’s nothing worth listening to.”

Alastor taps his fingers across his microphone. “It’s not nothing. Especially when you frown like that,” he says. “If it’s serious to you, it is worth listening to.”

“Sometimes . . .I still find myself wondering how you feel,” you say, smoothening the feathers on your head “Even after being married for so long, there are times where I still do not know

“You’re not a mind reader,” he says. “If you want to know, you should just ask.”

“Alright then,” you say with a smile. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

Alastor caresses your cheek. The back of his fingers brush down your skin until it hooks around your chin. You tilt it to the side, offering your cheek, ready for him.

Alastor tugs your chin, adjusting your face until your eyes are drawn into his own. And oh . . . Has he always looked at you like this?

Alastor inches closer, his nose nudging against your own. Your heart thumps in your ear.

A minute has never felt so long as you stay frozen. It’s a whole minute  if his lips brushing inches above yours. It’s a whole minute of his finger stroking the skin of your chin. It’s a whole minute of feeling his breath on your skin. It’s a whole minute where inches of space separate your

Alastor tortures you with the simplest of sensation that intoxicated you to your very core. You don’t move away, not from him—never from him.

Your eyes close when Alastor presses his lips across yours.

The taste of this morning’s coffee is dizzying. The soft tickles of his breath make your fingers curl around the fabric of his coat. You were never a poet. It’s Alastor who was better with his words. You cannot describe the way he kisses you with sweet metaphors or soft analogies.

Alastor pulls away.

You inch closer to chase him, until self-control takes over. It splashes you with the warmth of a bucket filled with ice.

Oh . . . oh.

There are words to be said, questions to be asked. The heat tingling of your cheeks and the electricity buzzing your lips make it hard to find the words.

You bury your face into the fabric of Alastor’s chest, curling into him to hide how red your face flushes. The back of his coat crumples when you grip it.

Alastor wraps his arms around you, tightening the hug. His finger stroke your shoulder blade. “Does that answer your question?”

You inhale into his clothes. It’s warm. He’s warm. So warm that int transfers to you. “No, not at all,” you mumble. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Alastor leans back, pushing you away to search your face.He stares at you.

You stare at everything but him.

Alastor squishes your cheek, giving it a light shake. “Stop demanding things from me when you’re not going to remember.”

“I did no such thing.” You swat his hand away. “Will I be seeing you soon?”

Charlie catches your eyes. She quickly glances away before eventually looking back. You bring out your hand, folding your fingers to indicate the number two. Charlie cringes so deep she creates a double chin.

Alastor brushes feathers out of your face. “You wouldn’t need to ask if you accepted Charlie’s offer to stay at the hotel,” he says. “ I was given a room there. I think you would like it . . . but, there’s still thousands of unused rooms if you wish to stay somewhere else.”

“My deerest, are you asking me to stay at the hotel?”

Alastor’s silence makes you chuckle.

With the tips of your toes, you reach to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you soon.”

“You always will.”

Charlie and Alastor leave with a wave. You close the door before they reach the gate, leaning on the door. The wood does little to settle the way your skin buzzes. Demand a kiss? You would never do such a thing.

The clock strikes. It’s time to leave for work. You take your coffee mug, scrubbing it with soap. (If you drop it twice, then that’s your business.) You open the cupboard, placing your matching mug next to Alastor’s clean one.

Today . . . Today will be a good day.

For today, there’s no need to throw away cold coffee mugs.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Glimpse of Me and You: Part 1| First of all, you will never catch my Alastor cooking jambalaya. It’s a great dish, I know. But I refuse to fall into the curse. Part of the reason why this chapter took so long to publish, besides work getting in the way, was because I didn’t know how I would want Alastor and Reader to love each other. Like do I make it purely romantic?  But I like keeping this as canon as possible. And I know that Alastor is only canonically ace. This problem struck me until I realized that to be accepted is to be loved. So I decided to write a story that will make me happy to show you. There are so many other fics with pure romance, and I wanted to respect Alastor’s asexuality and everyone who relates to him. This is my love letter to him and to you. Also, I’m just going to put it out there, just in case someone might ask why there’s a kiss on the lips? This is a reminder that you can define a relationship any way you could want. I debated whether that kiss should be on the cheek or on the lips. A cheek kiss isn’t inherently romantic, so I could have just done this. The lip kiss just felt…correct. I wanted to showcase that the relationship between Alastor and Reader isn’t a conventional one, and that it’s fine to have one that differs from what is considered normal. So the best way would be to take something that everything thinks is very romantic and twist it in a way that it could mean something different. And thus, any kiss before and after this chapter really just means that Alastor is completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @holymusicialmothman @lyralibra @alastorssimp @aestheticglas-blog @slaggylemon

[mingirn]

heavenly

lee minho x reader

genres: smut, some fluff

warnings: smut, grinding, dry humping, some dirty talk, getting off on the way someone smells, gender neutral reader

notes: titled after the song heavenly by cigarettes after sex

word count: 1,7k

”You smell good,” you say quietly, nose squished against his neck and lips brushing over the collar of his t-shirt as you speak.

”I smell good?” he asks, and you hum. ”Like my perfume? Or just the fact that this shirt is fresh from the wash?”

Minhos voice is humorous, underneath the softness of it he’s poking fun at you.

”Yeah, but also just- you. Your skin, your breath, your hair, your sweat, everything.”

Your hand is under his shirt, resting on his side. His naked skin is so smooth and warm, and with your eyes closed you can recall exactly what it’d feel like to kiss the skin thats underneath your hand. You know exactly what he feels like, every inch of him, you know every little spot on his body from the countless times you’ve kissed all over him. You know what he smells like too, whether he’s just gotten out of the shower and his skin smells like the bodywash he uses, or if he’s just woken up and he smells of sleep. You even love the way he smells when he comes to see you right after practice, when he hasn’t yet washed up and he just smells like himself.

”You’re crazy,” he laughs softly above you, while his fingers stroke over your hair. His voice reverberates through his chest and sounds a little lower when you lay on his chest like this. Everything about this, about him, feels like so much right now. His smell in your nose, his body in your hands, his touch on you, his leg between yours, the very warmth of him so close.

You scoot a little further up, aligning your chest with his so you can burrow into his neck, the tip of your nose brushing against his ear. You give him a quick kiss there, just where his ear meets his jaw and neck, and he shivers from the sudden contact in a place you know he’s sensitive.

Minho must be able to tell that your breath has gotten a little heavier, but he’s kind enough to say nothing of it. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin. He smells best here, somehow stronger than any other place on his body, here it’s just so richly Minho. Without even thinking you hitch your hand higher, moving from his side up to his chest, letting his shirt bunch around your arm and reveal the skin of his stomach. He smells so good it’s almost makes you dizzy, having all your senses be so full of just him.

”Do you like this?” he asks suddenly. He has dropped the tone he had earlier, no longer teasing you but sounding genuinely curious, or just entirely oblivious. It’s not the first time you’ve commented on his smell, nor the second or the third, and Minho should be more than aware of his effect on you at this point. The fact that he somehow doesn’t know, or perhaps didn’t really realize the depth of it until now has you whining silently into his neck.

”Yeah, I thought you knew,” you mumble sheepishly, pushing closer to Minho as if you’d somehow be able to sink into him to avoid the embarrassment.

”I knew you liked the way I smell. Fuck, I love the way you smell too. I just.. didn’t know you liked it this much,” Minho says.

”Mm, what?”

”This much,” he states, grabbing onto your hips. ”You’re grinding against me.”

Minho is right, but until now you hadn’t noticed the unconscious pull of your hips against his thigh. Suddenly, you become aware of your own body, before you’d been preoccupied taking Minho in, feeling him underneath you and trying to drink in as much of him as you can. Now, you feel pleasant warmth spread through your body, pooling together between your legs where you’re far too effected by all this and somehow you still can’t make yourself stop, even though your boyfriend has drawn attention to it.

”Oh my god,” you whine in embarrassment. Your hips stutter as you try to will yourself to stop, but it just won’t happen, your lips are brushing against the skin of Minhos neck every time you take a breath and he still smells so fucking good, you just can’t bring yourself to stop. Then, you feel his hands wrap around your hips further, fingers digging into the side of your ass, and you realize he’s helping you guide your hips.

”That’s it, there you go,” he says softly. His voice is right by your ear, so close it sends shivers down your spine. ”You should have told me you like it this much.”

”What?” you manage to spit out, trying desperately to stay focused in the moment.

This is something Minho likes to do. He talks to you, asks you questions and makes little statements he fully expects you to answer. He words them like he’s not helping you grind yourself into his thigh, and he’ll do the same when he’s fucking you, not relenting until he’s gotten the reply he wants. It makes you just a little dizzy, how he stays so composed when he’s got you falling apart in his arms and your head always feels so light when you think about how much control he has, not just over you but of himself too.

”If I had known you liked my smell this much I think we could have had some more fun with it,” he says, and you can hear it on his voice that he’s smirking.

”Fuck,” you breathe out. ”What- what fun?”

”Something like this. Or maybe I’d skip showering at the studio, if I knew I’d come home and get you to be like this for me.”

Minho lifts his leg a little, pushing his thigh further between your legs so you have no choice but to ride it. The new angle makes your breath hitch, it feels even better like this and Minho is still controlling your hips, making you yearn for a lot more than just his thigh.

”Really turns me on to know how you get for me, you know that right?” he says. You can tell that he’s hard against the side of your leg, but Minho still grabs your hand and places it over his shorts to make sure you can feel how hard he is. He speaks again, ”Fuck, it makes me so hard, can you feel that? Just for you.”

”Minho, please, please-” you choke out, mouth against his neck. He understands you somehow, reads your mind in that stupid Minho way, and weaves his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck so he can pull you up and then he kisses you.

It’s messy and desperate, even Minho is starting to lose himself and he kisses you as if he’s never kissed before. He’s all tongue and teeth, tasting you and moaning into your mouth when your tongue meets his. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but the hurried kisses make your head feel like it’s spinning and all that’s repeating inside of it is Minho saying just for you, just for you, just for you.

It hasn’t been long, you know that, but you’re already starting to get close. Even though your underwear and his shorts are seperating you from feeling him, there’s something so intense about this and about Minho that it hardly matters, and you know it won’t be long until he’s got you making a mess in your underwear. It has your hips faltering a little, unable to keep up with how good it feels. Luckily Minho still has a hold on you, and when he notices that it’s getting harder for you to keep composed he lets go of your head to keep both hands on your hips.

”Don’t stop,” he murmurs into the kiss. You moan into his mouth, a lot too loud and a lot too desperate. ”Want you to be good and cum for me like this, okay? Can you do that?”

You nod fervently, stuttering out something between a ’yes’ and a sob, and he rewards you with a kiss. You lean your forehead against his, eyes shut tight and hands fumbling to get a hold of anything to get your bearings. You want him as close as possibly and somehow this, his mouth mere millimeters from yours, swallowing your breath, isn’t enough.

”Minho, Minho, please. Please, I’m so close-”

”Baby, you can cum whenever you want. Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum for me,” he speaks softly, his own breath erratic from being so worked up.

He starts thrusting up, meeting your hips so you don’t have to do any work, Minho does it all for you when he can tell you’re about to cum. It’s this that finally does it for you, his hands holding you and his hips meeting yours just like he does when he fucks you like this.

Your breath catches in your throat, too overwhelmed and sensitive and still cumming, and Minho doesn’t stop for a second, just talking you through it with mumbles of ”I’ve got you, you’re so good, there you go, angel”.

Your legs are shaking when you finally come down, vision unblurring and lungs catching air again. Minho is rocking his hips ever so slightly to help you ride it out, and when you return to your senses you can feel the cum that’s soaked through your underwear and probably now stains his shorts.

”Oh my god,” you breathe out, slumping down on him. He laughs quietly, stroking your hair and craning his head to kiss your forehead softly. You continue, ”Thank you, Minho, what the fuck.”

”Thank you,” he says. ”I think I’m gonna have a lot of fun with this.”

”Oh, shut up!” You squeeze his arm a little, a pathetic attempt at being intimidating, but your fingers feel fuzzy and you’re still regaining your strength.

”It’s just because I love you so much, you know,” you say. He hums lowly at this, and yet again you know he’s smiling without having to look at him.

”I love you too,” he says. ”Always.”

[khloxxy]

hello! i hope you're doing well ^_^ i just wanna ask about your favorite headcanon of rus, cana and ame (if you're up for it, no pressure, i wanna see what kumajirou looks like in your style)

i like your art! don't mind me if you see me liking your posts hehe

Hello (^_^) thank you... Your art is very beautiful I'm honoured... Sorry if this is kinda late(?) my brain works best when it's the middle of the night. I wrote this in my notes at like 3am...

My headcanons are really messy and subject to change so keep that in mind 🙏 Gonna put them under a read more cause they're pretty long and I rambled on and on.. Got carried away sorry!! Also it's kind of cringe at some points but that's okay. To be cringe is to be free.

---

Rus: My beloved... He's cute, yes, but also very creepy. (I love a creepy rus) I see him as this character that's always looming over everyone, always watching... He likes how docile and obedient Cana is, and with Ame... well... He likes the challenge.

He likes the arts... And I believe he's an incredible poet and dancer. I like to think that Rus spends his free time writing hauntingly beautiful poetry in a journal of his since there are a lot of beautifully written Russian literature... That journal could also probably work as his diary too because why not. He also does ballet and figure skating, and Ame probably calls him gay for it, this irks Rus but that's okay. He'll rip the tongue out of that American's loud mouth one day. He just has to be patient. (that last part is cringe but my rusame brain told me to write it)

For music I think he'd like classical (tchaikovsky) and metal. I also think he'd visit old abandoned buildings just to see the ruins. Maybe even appreciate the architecture? He finds beauty in the decay.

His relationship with Ame is a game of chess (Rus loves chess, so he loves whatever he has going on with Ame), each move calculated, each interaction charged with unspoken tension (they never reveal their love for eachother... the only time that would happen is probably in life-or-death situations but with their immortality that's practically impossible – actually you know what?? Scratch that. No confessions... Unless drunk or under the influence of something maybe.) With Cana, it's more like a delicate dance, appreciating his gentleness but always aware of the fragile nature of their bond – he's aware that cana and him are only really bound together through Ame.

---

Cana: Neglected boy (eng and fra both coddled Ame more) ... Envious of Ame but still loves him – he's frustrated. He knows so much about Ame but Ame knows nothing about him. Ame doesn't care enough to bother learning about him. It's unfair. I believe he actually has Kumajirou for comfort... But even his pet bear doesn't remember him (to be fair, he doesn't remember Kumajirou's name either.)

For music taste, I think he'd like shoegaze actually... it's calm yet messy-ish and it matches well with his vibe. (Totally not just projecting my music taste onto him)

He dislikes being in the shadow of his brother but he does appreciate his brother sticking up for him. Doing all the talking for him. He doesn't like new people usually. They never understand. (Never understand his freak.. yes Cana has a hidden freak to me.)

He genuinely gets along with rus. They're more similar than they initially thought after all. I mean they're both shy (to a point), both live in cold climates, both have weird relationships with ame... And both are connected through Ame... Rus and Cana both recognize that they are intrinsically tied together only through Ame.

---

Ame: Insufferable (put him in the eternal torture chamber!) Even so, Rus and Cana are still drawn to him like moths to a flame. Type of guy to test the limits of his immortal body... I wish Hima did more with their immortality because that is such an interesting subject. Probably has more DUIs than you can count. Has crashed a plane on purpose. No way you can be the United States of America and not end up crazy.

For the Cold War... Ame was genuinely disappointed when the USSR fell, he was like "well... what now...??" Because for several decades he had a villain to match his hero... But now that Rus fell off... what now? He misses the thrill and rush of it (he's a thrill-seeker... Type 3 fun typa guy). Also, he knew nothing would actually happen anyhow because of M.A.D (Mutually Assured Destruction) no one would actually drop bombs.. right? (they had a few close calls). Maybe the cold war was just one big edging session... (Lmfao sorry had to say it)

Okay adding to the above thing but the paragraph got too long for me. Another reason why Ame thrived in the cold war is that Rus had his singular attention on him. Just him. He loved that. He loved having all of someone's attention. He can't help it. He's just a girl! 🎀 (Kinda yandere-ish vibes but I fw yandere ideas so... Actually all 3 of them could be yandere in the right mindset.)

To me, Ame is the kind of person who thrives on adrenaline, always seeking the next big rush – he's also a huge sucker for attention. That's why he does the crazy things he does. For attention. After all, what is he without attention?

With Cana, well this is a me thing but I like to think that Ame is actually quite clingy with his brother.. He's one of the only people Ame allows to touch him.. Ame's not a very touchy person. Ame does crave genuine connections and Cana is one of the few that can offer that. They're each other's one and only brother after all. That has to mean something.

His relationship with Cana? Complicated... They seem good from the outside but Ame barely knows anything about his brother. Cana could say a million things about Ame but Ame could only respond with maybe a few hundred or so things about Cana – heck, maybe even that would be stretching it. Although, Ame does care for his brother in his own way, truly.

Last little thing I'd like to add: Ame has a collection of vintage stuff. I don't know why. Vintage things just scream American to me. Like old comic books..

[acquity]

Gaara Relationship Headcanons (Part 1 - Catching Feelings)

Summary: Some personal headcanons of mine for how Gaara would catch feelings for his partner.

Warnings: Mentions of Death.

Notes: Since I am lacking inspiration for a longer fic, here are some ideas of mine for how Gaara would catch feelings for his lover! May do more of these for other Naurto boys, so if you have a specific request let me know! :)

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

Gaara had a rough upbringing to put it simply, and for him to even catch feelings for someone would take a while. I feel he could adore anyone; he doesn't care about your appearance at all that wouldn't be the reason he'd catch feelings for you.

Most likely he'd fall for someone from the Hidden Leaf. Say you two met during the Chūnin Exams where you were a part of Team Seven with Naruto. You were one of the few who didn't immediately fear him and even attempted to speak to him. You were met with a threatening response of course, and the look on your face he'd definitely remember.

You looked disappointed, before listening to his threat and backing off respecting his boundaries. He felt something then that he hadn't felt for a long time, he felt guilty that the small frown on your expression would haunt him throughout the entire duration of the exams.

No one had ever wanted to speak to him before, yet you did and it seemed genuine, but he convinced himself that you were just like his uncle faking being interested in him to gain an advantage to kill him later.

The boy would most likely attempt to kill you, only to be stopped by the combined efforts of you and Naruto after he let Shukaku take over.

You then offered your hand to help him up. He was a monster, yet you offered your hand to help him up even after he tried to kill you. He was shocked. When that occurred, you and Naruto helped open his eyes and he felt guilty for attempting to kill you.

Before he could take your hand, his siblings came to get him and he was still thinking about you and Naruto when he returned to the Hidden Sand.

But, more often than not he found himself thinking about you. Your smile and the way you still held your hand out for him were what motivated him to become better.

You two ran into each other every so often on combined missions between the Sand and the Leaf but he couldn't bring himself to speak to you beyond what was needed for the mission at hand.

The next time he encountered you and really spoke to you was when you came to his village with Naruto and a few other Leaf shinobi to rescue him from the hands of the Akatsuki. While you didn't arrive to save him on time before he was killed, when he was revived by Granny Chiyo your face filled with tears was the first thing he saw.

And the first words he uttered was an apology to you. Why on earth would you cry for him? Yes, he was the Kazekage now but surely you didn't still think of him as much as he thought of you.

He had been waiting to see you, more than he realized at the time, he had tried to take your life, yet you cried when he lost his.

It warmed his heart in a way that only occurred when you first offered him your hand and when you first tried to speak to him three years ago.

But what really brought warmth back into his body was when you instantly lit up when you saw that he was alive once again wiping your tears and offering your hand to help him up like you had done all those years ago. This time he was able to take it and you and Naurto helped the Kazekage back to the village.

He thanked the two of you giving you both a smile, and from then on he found himself requesting you for joint missions to the Hidden Sand more often when he could. Gaara didn't even really realize why he was, he just found himself drawn to your presence.

It didn't take long for Kankurō and Temari to realize how much he requested you be sent on the joint missions to Sunagakure and they stayed silent at first to confirm their suspicions on your next mission.

They noticed how their younger brother seemed to go out of his way to speak to you directly even when it wasn't necessary as you weren't the captain of these missions. On the surface, it may just look like he was being extra cautious, but they knew Gaara better than that and confronted him.

Kankurō first teased Gaara about it, and when he didn't get a response Temari asked him about you. The Kazekage was confused by what his older siblings were on about until they explained how he favored you.

It was then that he finally confessed about this strange feeling in his chest and the warmth he felt when you were around. That was when his older siblings explained to him that what he felt towards you was love or as Kankurō put it a "crush." He didn't know what to do with this information, there was no way you felt the same.

However, with a little push in the right direction and some not-so-helpful ideas from his brother he may have an idea on how to make his true feelings known because deep down he wants your love but would never force you he wants to go about earning your heart in the right way.

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the first couple of weeks of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2024! Every two weeks, we’re compiling all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

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make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face

A fic by localopa on AO3 | @voulezloux on Tumblr

25k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

things could be worse. harry doesn’t know what could be worse than being forced to do a tell-all interview with his ex friends with benefits that he still harbors feelings for, the only person he could ever see a future with, the person who truly hates him so much, he can’t help but hate him right back. but surely, worse things have happened at sea, right?

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More, More, More

A fic by thecheshirepussycat on AO3 | @the-cheshire-pussy-cat on Tumblr | @Bee_With_Mee on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

BLFF Prompt 216: 1980s AU. Harry is a singer and Louis is a groupie that Harry sleeps with. He becomes Harry’s inspiration for writing Rebel Yell by Billy Idol.

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.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- (I Love You)

A fic by emmli28 on AO3 | @emmli28 on Twitter

27k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis and Harry have been friends since they were children and Louis has had a crush on Harry for as long as he can remember. At a young age Louis learned how to say I love you in morse code and has used it to profess his love for Harry ever since. He has gifted him bracelets with the code, drawn it on his skin and tapped it into his body. Every time Harry has asked, Louis has just shrugged it off, unable to voice his true feelings. Louis and Harry are now moving to different cities for university and they won't be able to see each other every day, like they are used to. Will their friendship stand the test and will Louis ever be able to tell Harry how he feels?

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Upon the Plot Where I Took My Eternal Residence

A fic by daydreamlwts on AO3 | @daydreamlwts on Twitter

6k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 39- Louis gets into a car accident in the middle of nowhere and Harry, who lives in the middle of nowhere, finds and helps him.

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all you're dreaming of

A fic by orleelou on AO3 | @orleelou on Tumblr | @orleelou on Twitter

61k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

In hindsight Louis should know there would be only one bed in the older man's room. It was a small inn attached to a pub downstairs, he should know. And it wasn’t a king sized bed where both of them could stay in their respective place without touching each other until the sun rose. The double bed was staring at Louis, taunting him and judging him for spending a night with clearly someone’s father who probably had children around his age.

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Fly Me To Places I've Never Been

A fic by BoosBabycakes on AO3 | @boosbabycakes28 on Tumblr | @BoosBabycakes28 on Twitter

47k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

The plane is finally stabilized in the air, unfortunately Louis’ stress isn’t, anxiety and panic bubbling inside of him. All he can think about is how he is going to survive the longest flight of his life. He puts his airpods in, starts whatever playlist he prepared for the flight on shuffle while he is still embarrassingly hyperventilating. He closes his eyes, clutching onto his hoodie like his life depends on it when he feels a finger gently poking at his shoulder. He opens his eyes, taking one of his airpods off to hear a deep whisper, “Are you- Are you alright?” The voice is laced with worry. “You’re kind of scaring me. Are you afraid of flights?” The stranger seems genuinely concerned and it makes Louis want to cry even more. He doesn’t reply, simply shakes his head and thinks for a moment. Nothing can really get any worse at the moment so he grabs his phone from his lap, opens his note app and types, ‘MY EX IS SITTING BEHIND US WITH HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND’ . or The one where Louis’ ex ends up sitting right behind him with his new girlfriend on his flight back to Los Angeles, and the beautiful stranger next to him has an unexpected idea to help him get through the next five hours.

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a dream awaits in aisle number two

A fic by anditsonlyforthebrave on AO3 | @HARRYSC1NEMA on Twitter

6k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Hello, Louis,” the taller guy says, “looking as heavenly as ever” he comments, and Louis smiles. Definitely drunk, he thinks. “Had a fun night?” he asks, and Harry shrugs, “Niall’s cousin is visiting us for the week, and he bought us a bit too much to drink. How are you, Louis?” “Very tired, I can’t wait to sit down.” The next sentence that leaves Harry’s mouth leaves Louis speechless for multiple reasons. Or... Louis works nights in the local grocery store and has a silly little crush. Harry is a bit awkward, but it's not a coincidence that he as a silly little crush as well also known as prompt 159.

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Kiwi - It's your business!

A fic by Blue_Green28 on AO3 | @bluegreen28fics on Tumblr | @_blue_green28 on Twitter

23k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

When ex-boybander Louis Tomlinson asks newcomer Harry Styles to be his support act for the next leg of his tour, he has no idea that he will gain more than just a support act. or, the one with the banter on tour

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Love is red and it looks so good on you

A fic by DaxitaIsDaydreaming on AO3 | @DaxitasDaydrmng on Twitter

12k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Mummy and Daddy love us, so they will love anything we do for them.” She turned to look at her twin and noticed that the doubt was still drawn in her gaze, so she proposed, “Look, you are closer to Daddy, you like Daddy's books and those things, so you will go to help Mum with his gift.” Dars nodded with a shy smile, so she continued, “Mummy loves me more and shares the things he likes with me, so I will go with Daddy.” “That’s not true, Mummy loves us equally,” she refuted with a slight pout. Mummy would be incapable of loving one more than the other. Right? “I don’t go around saying that Daddy loves me more than you.” “Because he doesn’t love you more than me,” she cut her off. Or the one where Louis and Harry's eighth anniversary is right around the corner and they don't have their gifts yet. But it's okay because their little alphas girls are ready to help them.

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Blue Nights

A fic by SilverStuff50 on AO3 | @silverstuff50 on Tumblr | @SilverStuff50 on Twitter

56k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis does what he needs to do to make ends meet, and if that means showing his body to make money, so be it, he'll use the gifts he's been given to keep him and his dad safe. When a mysterious benefactor starts to make demands on him, Louis has to question whether its the money or the man he's most tempted by.

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Remember to give these fics kudos and comments, and spread their fic posts!

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All roundups will be linked here:

Weeks 1-2 Roundup

Weeks 3-4 Roundup

Weeks 5-6 Roundup

Weeks 7-8 Roundup

Week 9-10 Roundup

[xomakara]

Inked By You

SUMMARY |  You're best friends with Johnny and have had feelings for him for awhile. You think he's only attracted to you because of your tattoos but it's so much more. PAIRINGS | Johnny/Fem!Reader GENRE |  non-idol au, college au, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, fluff towards the end RATING |  Mature LENGTH |  10,114 words AUTHOR��S NOTE | This turned out longer than I expected LOL. So in this one, all the members I mentioned are the same age lolol. I hope it makes sense. Does it make sense?? I feel like my writing style has been wonky lately.

“Those are real, aren’t they?” Johnny asked you as he leaned against your bedroom wall. Taeyong and Yuta were lounging on your bed before joining the party that was going on in your living room. Johnny was looking at the various tattoos that were on your left arm.

You and Johnny have been best friends since your freshman year of college. Although you both have very different personalities and interests, there was one thing that kept you close together: partying. It's your last year of college and despite all the stress from studying and taking exams, you still got together every now and again to do what you all did best.

Drink, dance, and make memories.

Johnny is wearing a silk button-down shirt and black slacks. And then there was you in a tight mini skirt and a one-shouldered top that accentuated your figure and showed off your tattoo sleeve.

You looked good.

Even though it wasn’t what most people would consider a typical Friday night out, you, Johnny and other mutual friends seemed happy enough as you stood in front of the mirror checking out each other.

That was until you caught Johnny staring at your body with an expression that suggested he wanted more than just a quick look. The silence between you both grew awkward and uncomfortable until you finally broke it by saying, “What? Are my tits distracting you or something?”

He snapped out of his trance with a surprised look on his face, causing you to smile. He quickly apologized for staring, but said that he was genuinely interested in your ink. You nodded in response, knowing exactly what he meant by that. There was no denying the amount of attention you always got when wearing a low-cut top or a revealing dress. Your tattoo sleeve was another story though. People either loved them or hated them.

Despite the interest from many men, you never really considered getting any more tattoos after you finished your sleeves because, frankly, your current ones turned heads even if you wore a burlap sack. It wasn't uncommon for you to get double takes from people you knew as well as complete strangers when walking around town. On top of that, you didn't want to mess up the awesome artwork that had already been drawn onto your skin. Your current sleeves represented some of your favorite memories, which you didn't ever want to lose. So while others spent thousands of dollars on inked bodies, you got yourself beautiful pieces of art that couldn't be taken away.

Still, you couldn't help but notice how excited Johnny appeared whenever he saw you in your sexy outfits. As far as you could tell, he never missed an opportunity to stare at your tattoos, or check you out whenever you walked by him. Sometimes you would catch him ogling you in such a way that you felt like he wanted to rip off your clothes right there in public. Of course, there was no way he'd actually do anything like that. He wasn't that kind of guy.

Besides, you knew for a fact that he had a girlfriend who also attended the same college as you. They had been dating for about a few months, so she was obviously important to him. Still, whenever he caught you wearing something tight or sexy, he couldn't help but show off those sinful eyes of his.

With everyone gathered in yours and Ten's living room, you tried to ignore the eye candy standing across from you as you and your friends continued to talk about meaningless things, like where you should go for dinner later tonight. You weren't even sure why you brought it up. Maybe you were bored, maybe you were drunk, or maybe you just needed something to keep your mind occupied. But whatever the reason, somehow the conversation ended up on the topic of sexual partners. When it comes to sexual encounters, your friends tend to live by the motto: if you haven't had sex with anyone, then you're not having fun.

You hadn't given much thought to that phrase until Jaehyun wiggled his eyebrows at you. "We all know that Y/N has fun doesn't she?"

You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your lips. "I've been told I have a knack for keeping people entertained."

"She can entertain me anytime!" Ten shouted. "Have you seen her ass in that red dress she wears?"

You couldn't help but laugh. That comment got everybody else laughing too.

"Anyways," You muttered before clearing your throat and turning towards Taeyong, "How many women have you slept with?"

Taeyong glanced over at Yuta and grinned, "Four, but it's probably more. Do you need me to give you a count?"

Ten let out a small laugh before replying, "Four isn't bad. Don't think I'll ever get that high, although the number would probably increase if Yuta would stop trying to fuck everything that moves. Especially anything that moves."

You burst out laughing, followed by Yuta who laughed even harder. Eventually Ten joined in, as did Jaehyun, and everyone else that was listening.

“But back to the question at hand,” Taeyong spoke up once he was able to calm down. He looked over at you, “how many men have you slept with?”

Johnny grabbed a bottle of beer from the kitchen counter and took a swig of it. He looked at you curiously.

"Well...if we include Jaehyun, Doyoung, Mark, Hendery and Renjun..." You counted, the men you called out looking at you for a brief moment before going back to whatever they were doing. "Five. But hey, who's counting? Sex is sex."

That answer seemed to satisfy Johnny, although he continued to watch you carefully. You noticed that he was taking an interest in your tattoos again. You shrugged it off as you and your friends continued talking, however your heart began to beat faster when you realized that he was no longer looking at your tattoos. His eyes were locked on yours.

"Hey guys,” Jungwoo called out to the rest of your group, waving a hand in front of their faces. “Who wants to get more beer and food with me?"

Thank you Jungwoo, for your timely interruption. You weren't sure how long you could last with Johnny staring at you. In fact, your knees started to feel a little weak when he cleared his throat to gain your attention. It was almost like he was daring you to say something. Something inappropriate, to be exact. But you had to be strong. After all, he was with his girlfriend.

"Uh, yeah," You replied, forcing a smile onto your face. “Let's go get some food and drinks."

You turned around, ready to follow Jungwoo into the kitchen. You paused for a second to take one last look at Johnny, and saw him watching you intently. You smiled sheepishly before stepping inside the kitchen to join your friends.

You turned around to see Johnny coming towards you. He didn't speak for a minute, so you waited patiently. "So, have you had fun yet?"

Your brows furrowed. You expected him to ask you if you were enjoying yourself. Instead he was asking you a completely different question. You wondered what this was all about, so you replied, "Of course I'm having fun! Why wouldn't I be?"

Before he could respond, Xiaojun called out. "Yo, Johnny! Jieun is here."

Fuck. Johnny's girlfriend.

You sighed inwardly as you watched him walk away with Xiaojun to greet her. If only he wasn't dating someone you actually knew. Then maybe he'd pay you the proper amount of attention. 

Oh well. No use thinking about it. 

You shook your head and focused on your friends. You hadn't seen them in awhile, so you welcomed the chance to hang out with them again. Plus, the alcohol helped to loosen your tongue, which allowed you to ask some of the questions you had been wondering about for quite some time.

"So, guys," you said, pouring some vodka into a glass. "Is it true that Renjun hooked up with someone last week?"

Renjun choked on his beer. You covered your mouth to hide your laughter. Kun let out a loud groan. Haechan let out a loud chuckle. Even Taeyong chuckled quietly.

You couldn't believe that they were being so open with you. It was like you were part of the group, and you liked it. You weren't sure if they realized that, but you were grateful nonetheless.

As soon as you saw Renjun regaining his composure, you spoke up again. "So, how many girls have you banged so far?"

Mark snorted. "Including you? Like eight or nine."

Kun guffawed. "More like twenty."

A shocked expression formed on your face. It was funny to hear their numbers compared to yours, but even funnier was hearing their reactions. Their reactions made you realize just how ridiculous their answers were. For example, Kun's claim that he had fucked more than twenty women in his lifetime was preposterous. However, you didn't dare bring it up.

Renjun shrugged. "I dunno. A lot."

Mark nodded. "At least ten."

Jungwoo scoffed. "No fucking way. Five tops."

"Bet none of those girls were as good as Y/N." Jaehyun reminded them, giving you a look. You rolled your eyes as he continued to talk. "And to everyone at this party that had sex with her, admit that she was good."

"I admit, I'm a good fuck." You shrugged, a small smirk on your lips. You nudged Jaehyun's shoulder. "Now shut up."

You all stared at each other for a minute before bursting out laughing. The alcohol was definitely starting to hit you hard, making you forget all about Johnny and his girlfriend. All that mattered was that you were surrounded by friends, having a good time, and drinking.

It wasn't long before Ten, Mark, Kun, Haechan, Taeyong and you were sitting on the floor, passing around beers and shots as you waited for Jungwoo and Yuta to return with the food. And even though you were tipsy, you managed to hold your liquor fairly well. Until you drank the tequila shot you took right before going to get more drinks.

“So, Y/N.” Haechan drawled out, looking at you intently. You glanced at the tequila in your hands, your vision getting hazy. How much have you actually drunk so far?

“What?” you asked, shrugging. “What are you talking about?”

Haechan frowned. "You okay? You look wasted."

"Yeah, you look wasted Y/N." Taeyong said, as he put his drink down.

Your vision was getting worse. You felt dizzy. Your body was hot, then cold, then hot again. Fuck, you were going to pass out if you kept this up. You reached for the bottle of water next to you, holding it tightly against your chest. You closed your eyes for a second, concentrating on slowing your breathing. You managed to slow it down a bit, but you still felt lightheaded. Before you knew it, your vision blurred again. When you opened your eyes, you found everyone staring at you. Except for Taeyong. He was standing in front of you, looking very concerned.

"Taeyong." You whispered, unable to form any words. He held out his arms, inviting you to step into them.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed." He said gently.

"Y/N." Johnny stepped forward, his face showing concern. His girlfriend laid a hand on his arm, suggesting that he stay put. "Are you okay?"

You nodded and stumbled, reaching for the couch, only to find it further away than you remembered. Without thinking, you leaned against Haechan instead. As you dozed off, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"Johnny, what's wrong?" The pretty girl next to him muttered. "Is everything alright?"

Johnny watched from the corner of his eyes as his friends helped Y/N up from her drunken stupor. Was she okay? "It's nothing, Jieun."

"I hope she's alright." Jieun muttered, arms still clinging to him. "She seems so drunk."

"Don't worry about her, babe." Johnny assured her. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."

"Why are you always protecting her?" Jieun released a soft sigh.

"Because she's special to me." Johnny answered simply. 

He gave her a small smile before turning his attention back to his friends. He really missed the opportunity to spend time with his friends and Y/N.

He sighed. Of course he missed her. Even though he hadn't been able to spend much time with her lately, whenever they were together, they always had fun. She was kind and caring. Whenever they hung out, he felt a sense of comfort wash over him. It wasn't until tonight that he realized how lucky he was to have her in his life.

In the beginning, it was all easy. They met at a party thrown by their classmates. Since Johnny had recently moved to Seoul, most of his friends struggled to communicate with him. So when his friend Jaehyun told him about the event being held by another foreign exchange student, he figured that it would be a good chance to meet new people. Little did he know that meeting Y/N would change his life forever.

They hit it off instantly, flirting shamelessly. They had no problem joking around and teasing each other. At first, it had been innocent, simple conversations, whether it was about the weather or their favorite movies. They stayed as friends since Y/N was currently in a relationship, but every once in a while, they still got together to hang out. On those occasions, they spent their time watching movies, going to karaoke bars, eating out, and shopping. They had mutual friends who always seemed to drag them along to the hottest clubs and parties.

Those times together were always memorable. He remembered the time when he helped Ten and Y/N find an apartment together since they were going to be roommates. There were nights where Y/N had gotten sick from drinking too much, falling asleep on Johnny's chest. Or times when he found himself helplessly straddling Y/N as they snuck into his apartment. He never questioned the level of their intimacy; after all, Y/N was a beautiful, smart, and sweet girl. In return, Johnny was respectful of her relationships with other men.

But the thought of Y/N with anyone else made him physically ill.

For several months, things continued this way. Eventually, they both became more serious with their respective partners. When that happened, they had trouble finding time to see each other. The good news was that they'd grown closer, becoming each other's best friends. During those moments when they saw each other, they'd always make sure to give the other person plenty of affection. It was obvious that neither one of them wanted to lose their friendship. Still, it was difficult not to get hurt every now and again.

Johnny would often ask himself why he didn't act sooner.

What stopped him from telling Y/N how he truly felt? He knew that he was attracted to her, especially after seeing how they interacted together. She made him laugh, genuinely enjoying his humor. It was impossible not to notice how sexy she looked when she was laughing at his jokes. Plus, she smelled amazing. When he breathed in her scent, it reminded him of chocolate. Or strawberry ice cream. Something sweet and fruity that melted his heart every time he inhaled it. But still, he kept his feelings bottled up inside.

Today was no exception.

Seeing Y/N dress in that mini skirt and that top that accentuated her figure, he had to try hard to stop himself from kissing her senseless. Heck, he knew she had tattoos but at the time, there were only a few. Now she had a whole sleeve of them. All over her left arm. Most of them seemed quite intricate and detailed, depicting nature scenes, symbols, even people. She had an incredible eye for detail and, based on her art, Johnny guessed that she had a lot of patience. It was one of the many reasons why he loved hanging out with her. They could talk for hours, even if they had absolutely nothing in common. There was always an instant connection between them, almost as if they were two halves of a whole.

Johnny glanced over at Jieun, his current girlfriend.

No.

Just the girl that he’s currently just sleeping with.

Jieun was pretty, don't get him wrong. She had short hair and bright brown eyes, delicate features and a slender frame. But when compared to Y/N, she didn't stand a chance. Compared to her, Y/N seemed like a goddess. Y/N was tall, slender, toned in all the right places. She was tan, and had long, black hair that she often ran her fingers through. Not only did she possess all of the qualities that Johnny desired, but she also had a personality that stole his heart. For years, he had been silently pining for her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't deny the fact that she was perfect for him.

But no matter how much he liked Jieun, he could never forget Y/N. The truth was that Y/N was just so different from everyone else. She never hesitated to show her true self, whatever that meant. Whether she was crying over a sad movie or dancing ecstatically at a club, he knew that she wouldn't lie to him or hold anything back. Her honesty made her extremely endearing. She was funny and carefree, and unlike some girls, she had a positive outlook on life. If it wasn't for Y/N, Johnny doubted that he would've made it through all the crap he went through during college.

No doubt, Johnny had fallen for her. But he refused to act on those feelings. To do so would be unfair to Jieun, despite them not really dating. More importantly, Y/N deserved someone better than him. Someone who actually appreciated her beauty and unique traits. She deserved someone who loved her unconditionally and showed it in every aspect of their relationship.

Johnny watched as Jieun struck up a conversation with the other party-goers. His attention went back to Y/N and how drunk she looked earlier. He wished that he could've done something to prevent her from embarrassing herself. Y/N was the last person he wanted to hurt.

The next thing you remember was waking up on the couch, your head resting on someone’s lap. Haechan was still sleeping soundly, and so were all of your friends except for Yuta. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Everyone looked so peaceful.

"Ugh, my head." You moaned as you sat up. "This hangover is going to kill me."

"Can I get you anything?" Ten asked, coming out of his bedroom. He looked around the living room, noticing that the people who didn't make it home last night, were all passed out on the floor or on the couch.

You rubbed your forehead, getting up and padding towards the kitchen. “Coffee, please.”

He handed you the mug and a pack of Advil. "Are you feeling better?"

"Just peachy." You replied sarcastically. "Not at all.”

Ten laughed. "Don't worry, you'll feel better tomorrow."

As soon as he walked back into the living room to wake everyone up, you finished your mug of coffee and padded into your bedroom to freshen up. You went through your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. You needed to dress casual, since you planned on spending most of the day lounging around the house, drinking coffee and playing games. Unfortunately, you couldn't decide between wearing sweatpants or shorts. Finally, after much deliberation, you chose to pair leggings with a gray tank top. Once you were done, you wandered back into the living room to wait for everyone else to wake up.

You didn't need to wait too long. Before you knew it, Taeyong and Renjun joined you at the kitchen table with cups of coffee. Mark rubbed at his eyes, sitting up from the couch, Haechan stirred next to him.

“Where did you two sleep?” You asked Taeyong and Renjun, curious.

Taeyong gave you a pointed look. “Like on the floor. At least Yuta was against the wall.”

You grinned. "I'm surprised no one took over my bed."

"I'm surprised no one put you to bed," Yuta muttered as he joined the group.

"Haechan was hogging her on the couch." Mark sleepily muttered.

"I was going to help her to her room but then I got sleepy and she was sleepy," Haechan yawned. "So we both passed out on the couch."

"Who didn't go home last night?" You asked Ten .

"Mark, Haechan, Renjun, Taeyong, and Yuta." Taeil replied. "Oh. Kun passed out on my bedroom floor."

“Haha. Let's go get breakfast once they wake up. What should we do today?” You asked the group of hungover men.

“Eat breakfast. Drink more coffee. Play video games. Whatever you want.” Kun shrugged, coming from Ten's bedroom. He stretched and yawned loudly. “Today is a free day. We can do whatever you want."

“Okay, sounds good. Can I shower first?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

“Of course. Don't take too long. We're waiting.” Taeyong smirked.

“Whatever.” You replied. You slowly trudged upstairs to your bedroom. Once you were inside, you stripped off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor. You slid under the warm spray of water and scrubbed your hair vigorously. Soon, you stepped out of the shower, toweling off your hair and wrapping the towel around your body. Then you pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and an old, faded red t-shirt. Once you were ready, you padded downstairs to grab your purse and keys.

Once you returned to the living room, you found everyone waiting for you. They all sat around the living room, sipping on their morning coffees.

"Alright, let's go get breakfast." You declared happily.

"Good idea." Yuta agreed, getting up from the couch. "Let's not waste another minute here."

"We don't need another minute." Mark commented, looking around the room.

When you arrived at your favorite restaurant, everyone piled out of the car, stretching and yawning. The restaurant was fairly empty, save for the employees. So, when the owner came up to greet you all, you smiled.

"Morning! Glad to see my favorite group of hungover college kids." She beamed, her arms wide opened.

You stepped into her arms. "Morning mom. Can you feed us now?"

"Anything for my favorite daughter." Your mom kissed your cheek, ignoring your comment that you were her only child. Your mom looked at the rest of the group. “Now what can I get for you hungover kids?”

“Your egg sandwiches, auntie.” Ten muttered.

“Coffee.” Mark yawned. “Lots and lots of coffee.”

“Can I get toast, bacon, and fries, auntie?” Renjun asked.

"Oh, god, come on." Taeyong groaned, sitting down at a nearby table. "Just give me some coffee and bacon, I'll be fine. Please auntie."

After you placed your order, you settled down at the table, joining your friends.

"Why are we meeting here every morning?" Yuta yawned, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Because it's close to campus, you get free food and you know my mom loves you all." You shook your head, helping the staff pour everyone coffee or orange juice into their mugs and cups. You made your thanks, the staff smiling.

"One of the perks of being Y/N's friends," Kun laughed. "Free food from her mom's restaurant. Lucky us."

"True that." Ten nodded, finishing off his egg sandwich. "Man, I love her mom's sandwiches."

"She makes the best ones." You agreed, stealing a fry from Renjun's plate.

A few minutes later, the rest of the food was delivered.

"Can I have your bacon and eggs?" Ten asked, pointing at your plate.

You raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think you deserve to eat someone else's bacon?"

"Doesn't hurt to ask." He grinned, grabbing your plate. "But you can always share."

Everyone chuckled as you shoved a fry into Ten's mouth.

"So where did Johnny end up going last night?" You asked suddenly. “I really didn’t see him last night. I mean I saw him before I passed out.”

"He didn't stay long." Mark answered. "Around midnight, he left with Jieun."

"Ah." You frowned. "Makes sense. They never stay long whenever I'm around."

"They probably just wanted to spend time together." Kun explained. "Jieun and Johnny were really cute together. She followed him everywhere he went."

"Did you ever tell him that you liked him?" Yuta asked you suddenly.

"What?" You blinked. How did Yuta know about that?

"You did flirt with him a little." Renjun reminded you. "At least, that's what I saw."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. "It was barely any flirting."

"Come on Y/N," Mark shook his head. "Johnny was staring at you the whole night before Jieun came."

"It's the tatts, Mark." You replied. "He was asking me about them earlier."

"Seriously though." Yuta continued. "If you like him, why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I thought he'd never notice me." You sighed, knowing that there was no way to escape the converstation. "I'm not the type of girl that guys usually like."

"Really?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"It's the tatts, huh?" Taeyong muttered, looking at your tattooed arm. "I mean, I love a girl that has tatts."

"Guys will always find something to complain about." You nodded your head. “But thanks for that Taeyong.”

"Well," Renjun interrupted, chuckling slightly. "There's nothing wrong with your tattoos."

"Yeah." Haechan agreed. "They're pretty cool."

"I agree." Ten smiled. "And sexy as hell."

You blushed, ignoring everyone's laughter. But it wasn't long before you were in a conversation about your tattoos again. About how pretty you thought they were and about how unique each tattoo was. It felt good, having such amazing friends that were willing to talk about your ink. You knew it would probably never happen with other groups of guys you hung out with. Not because they didn't care, but because they were afraid to offend you. Which is why you weren't surprised when the subject turned to sex.

It was always sex with these guys.

Why were you friends with these sex-crazed guys?

"So..." Taeyong started, shooting a pointed glance at you. "Are there any guys here you want to bang?"

"Hear me out. I know he has a girl and I know someone's going to beat me up for saying it or even thinking of it," You decided to just tell the truth. You looked around biting your lip, making sure your mom didn’t hear you. "Johnny. He seems like a good fuck."

"Damn," Haechan raised his eyebrows. "Y/N and Johnny would be hot, to be honest."

"No shit." Renjun nodded. "They'd be the hottest couple on campus."

You rolled your eyes and laughed with the others. You and Johnny? If only that was possible.

He still has a girlfriend after all.

The days passed quickly. After hanging out with the group for breakfast, you usually went off on your own, doing homework or just spending time alone in your room. But one day, after lunch, you decided to join your friends again. This time you met up with Taeyong, Doyoung, Winwin, Xiaojun, and Jaemin.

You sat at the table, eating as everyone told you stories about who they hooked up with last night. You rolled your eyes when Taeyong started telling you about his drunken hookup with a girl named Minah.

"Drunk sex?" You scoffed, giving him a look. "Really?"

"Don't act like you haven't done that." Taeyong narrowed his eyes. "With as many times as you had drunken sex with Doyoung."

"Please don't bring that up. Every time you guys mention it, I feel bad." You groaned as Doyoung sputtered on his food. You reached out and patted his back. “But admit it Doyoung, the sex was good.”

"We don't mention it!" Taeyong responded to you, rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s reaction. "It's not our fault you're always horny!"

"Shut up. Just shut up." You threw your napkin at him, the others laughing.

You were surprised when the next person you noticed looking at you wasn't Xiaojun or Doyoung or Jaemin or even Winwin. Instead, it was your very handsome friend, Johnny. You didn't even know he would be here. He was out with others that were in his classes.

His dark brown eyes met yours across the room. There was something about the way he stared at you that made you blush. Your cheeks were hot. Even your ears felt hot. Why was this guy looking at you so intensely? And so much?

“Is there a reason why you’re staring at Johnny so much?” Xiaojun asked, leaning back in his chair.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Um…”

"She wants to fuck him." Jaemin muttered. "Renjun told me the other day."

"But then again, what girl doesn't want to fuck, Johnny?" You asked, shrugging your shoulders. "Jieun is one lucky bitch."

You tried not to look at him anymore. Because whenever you looked at him, your stomach would flip. He was just too beautiful. Too sexy. Too perfect. It didn't help that he was already famous for dating the popular girl. Not that you weren't popular.

No wonder every single girl kept trying to hit on him. You included. You've been fighting the urge to kiss him since you met him at that event you hosted with Mark for the foreign exchange students. But he still had a girlfriend. A serious girlfriend.

Yet, here you were, constantly looking at Johnny like he was a piece of candy that you desperately wanted. Or maybe like you were salivating at the sight of him. Yes, that sounded more appropriate.

Like you wanted to eat him alive.

You wanted to suck on his lips. Suck on his tongue. Slap his hard cock against your naked pussy.

God, you wish you could touch him. Touch his face. His arms. His chest. Hell, just touch his skin. To see if it was as soft as it looked.

Or if it was rough.

Maybe Johnny likes rougher sex than the girls he normally slept with. What do you know about him, huh? Nothing. And yet, you keep imagining yourself with him. Imagining how it would feel to lay beneath him, letting him fuck you from behind. Thinking about how incredible it would feel to take his load all over your face. Or maybe deep inside you. The possibilities were endless. You just couldn't seem to stop thinking about him.

Your friends didn't know about the way you fantasized about him.

At least, they hadn't said anything. Yet.

"Ah, fuck." You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Doyoung gave you a concerned look. “You okay, Y/N?”

You nodded in reply.

You were seriously losing control. That was a first. For as long as you could remember, you had been able to hold yourself back from acting on your urges. The fact that you had no self-control around him should've made you realize you shouldn't be with him. It should make you run away. But instead, your heart yearned to feel his body pressed against yours.

Why? You wondered. Why did you keep wanting him?

You took another bite of your salad, listening to your friends talking amongst themselves. And once again, Johnny’s name was brought up.

“Yeah, I heard he spent most of the weekend with Jieun.” Xiaojun said casually.

You sighed softly, hoping that he wouldn’t ask any questions about it.

The next week was rather uneventful. Since it was your last year of college, you have stayed late almost every night studying or doing homework. Sometimes, if your apartment was occupied, you would go to Hendery’s, Jeno’s or Yangyang’s rooms and study there since they often partied, playing sports or going to the gym. So you were surprised when Wednesday afternoon found you walking back to your apartment alone.

As you approached your building, you noticed Johnny standing near the front doors. Of course he was there. No doubt he had been waiting for you.

His posture screamed 'alpha male'. All six feet one inch of him stood rigidly, like he was prepared to strike at any moment. And the muscles in his arms and chest were clearly defined under his tight black shirt. Damn. You wanted to get closer to him, to see if those bulging biceps were real.

You swallowed nervously. How does a girl like you even get a chance to meet the guy that every other girl wants? What makes you different from all the rest? You were one of his best friends that's for sure.

You watched as he began talking to someone. A girl. And she seemed to respond well to his attention. She smiled as he leaned down to speak to her. She giggled. She touched his arm lightly. She probably thinks she's special. Probably thinks that he's interested in her. As if.

But he looks happy. Smiling. Even talking to her. Ah, this must be Jieun, the girlfriend. She was actually really cute. Much prettier than you expected her to be. Short hair cut in a layered style. Brown eyes. And a small nose.

The way his gaze lingered on her for a few moments longer than necessary, she seemed to be flattered. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly. Her head resting on his shoulder as she gazed at him with longing. It was then that you realized that he was completely oblivious to your presence.

What was wrong with you? Why are you watching them like that? Why can't you turn away? God damn it! Stop acting like some sort of pervert.

You cleared your throat. Maybe he won't notice you if you ignore him. It worked the last time. Didn't it?

But to your dismay, he did.

"Hi Y/N!" He said cheerfully, looking up and meeting your gaze. "I've been waiting for you."

Oh god.

"Hey Johnny," You forced yourself to say. Your voice came out low and shaky. You struggled to find your words. Suddenly, you felt like an awkward teenager again. Like your face was on fire.

Johnny nodded towards Jieun, causing her to frown slightly. Then he shot you a mischievous smile. "Let's go up."

It took everything you had to push past him and enter your building. Thankfully, Jieun left before you reached your apartment door. You were grateful. You didn't need her prying questions right now.

Inside your home, you stood in the living room, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. Ten wasn’t home yet, so you felt a bit nervous that you were left alone with Johnny. This had never before. Why all of a sudden were you feeling nervous in front of your best friend?

"Do you want a drink?" You offered nervously. "A soda or water? Wine?"

"A glass of red wine sounds nice." He replied without hesitation.

Relief flooded you as you hurried to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Thankfully, you had stocked the fridge earlier that day.

When you returned to the living room, Johnny was sitting on the couch, sipping his wine and watching TV.

He's so gorgeous. Why does he have to be so goddamn beautiful?

"So..." You started awkwardly. "How have you been?"

"Same old, same old." He shrugged. "What about you?"

You frowned. "Nothing new. Apart from hanging with the guys.”

He glanced at you quickly. Something passed between the two of you. Something strange. Something exciting. You squirmed in your seat, trying to focus on anything else besides the way his eyes smoldered at you. You felt like your whole world was going crazy. Everything around you became fuzzy. The way his voice sounded. The way his muscles flexed underneath his clothes. The way he gazed at you. Oh god.

Fuck.

Stop it. You chided yourself. This isn’t happening. Don’t give in to him. This is bad. Really bad.

“I’m glad we finally got to hang out tonight.” He said after a few moments of silence.

“Me too.” You replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean, I guess I haven’t seen you since you’ve been busy with Jieun.”

Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “True.”

"You never talked about her." You pointed out quietly.

He grimaced. "We don't really talk about her that often."

"Do you like her?"

"Who?"

You exhaled sharply. "Jieun. Do you like her?"

Johnny furrowed his brows. "Why do you ask?"

You hesitated, wishing you hadn't brought it up. "Well...you look pretty happy when you're with her."

He smiled briefly. "It's complicated."

"Are you two together?" You questioned. "Is that why you always sit with her during class?"

"Well, we're definitely close." He said simply.

And then, he was silent.

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” You blurted out. “Shouldn’t you spend time with her instead of me?”

He cocked his head to the side. “No, we’re not together.”

“Really?” You felt relieved. Thank god.

Johnny laughed. “Of course. We aren’t dating. We’ve slept together a few times but we’re not dating.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Good. At least he was being honest. You tried not to think about what kind of relationship they had. What kind of relationship they had had. But you couldn’t help but notice how they interacted with each other. The way they looked at each other. How they held hands.

“Was my best friend jealous?” Johnny peered at your face, a smile on his lips. “Because I could swear that you were staring at us.”

“I was not!” You denied. “There was nothing to stare at.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t try and deny it.”

“No, I’m telling the truth. There was nothing to stare at.” You insisted.

“Sure there was.” He grinned, taking another sip of his wine.

“Trust me. There was nothing.” You responded forcefully. “There was no reason for me to watch you and Jieun together. You weren’t kissing or anything.”

“Really?” His expression grew serious. “What if I asked you to kiss me right now? Would you?”

“Fuck, Suh.” You burst out. “That’s impossible. You know that, right?”

“But would you want to?” He persisted. “Would you kiss me right now if I asked you?”

“I…” You stopped.

How the hell was you supposed to answer that question?

This conversation was turning into something you never expected it to be. Was it really just a friendly request or something more?

And what would your friends say if they saw you two making out in the middle of the living room? If they saw you grinding against him on the couch?

“God dammit.” You groaned, slumping back onto the couch. “Johnny, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Hmmm?” He peered at you curiously.

“Why does this have to happen?” You groaned, trying hard not to panic. “What are you trying to do to me?”

He gave you a playful smile. “I'm not doing anything to you.”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Then why am I feeling this way?”

“Because you want me.” He replied simply. “Because you’re attracted to me. Because you can’t resist me. Because you feel something when I look at you.”

His confession sent shockwaves through your body. You sat motionless on the couch. Unable to comprehend what he just told you. Unable to believe him.

“Are you attracted to me too?” You whispered. “Is that why you keep looking at me?”

Johnny stared at you silently for several seconds. Then he grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” He confirmed.

You gaped at him.

“Really?” You repeated hesitantly.

“I'm not lying to you.” He assured you. “I want you. I want you so badly that I can barely breathe sometimes. But if I tell you that, will you run away? Will you break our friendship because of this?”

“No.” You answered instantly. “No. I’d never do that. I wouldn’t even be able to think straight. Not to mention the fact that the guys would kill me.”

He chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“They know that I have a thing for you.” You admitted. “They see the way I look at you. They tease me about it all the time. I guess it’s easier for them to accept it if they knew that I’m attracted to someone who likes me back. Someone who I can be myself around. That’s why they won’t mind if we date. As long as I’m with someone who accepts me.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So…what should we do?” You asked tentatively.

He raised his eyebrows. “About what?”

“Um…this.” You gestured towards yourself. “This attraction between us. It seems like we both want it. So…is it possible that maybe we could…I don’t know…do something about it? Maybe meet up somewhere private? Or at least have sex. In my bed? On your couch?”

Johnny’s eyes lit up. “You want to have sex with me?”

“Fuck, Johnny.” You ran your hand through your hair, noticing his eyes on your tatted arm. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” He murmured huskily. “Like I'm going to take you upstairs and rip your clothes off? Like I'm going to shove my cock inside you and fuck you until you scream?”

You moaned. Fuck yes. That's exactly what you want.

“Don’t you want to?” He pressed. “Don’t you want me to make love to you? To touch every inch of your skin? To lick your nipples and suck on your breasts?”

You bit your lip.

“Fuck. Please stop talking. Just fucking fuck me already.” You moaned, unable to contain your arousal any longer.

He smirked. “All right. All right. But just to warn you. I plan on treating you like the goddess that you are. Every part of your body is going to feel good to me. I’ll make sure you come over and over again.”

A fire ignited within you. This is exactly what you needed. Exactly what you wanted. The idea of getting fucked by him sent a thrill throughout your body. You loved hearing him say those words to you. Words that only a man like him could utter. And knowing that you wanted to have sex with him didn’t hurt either. It made you feel incredibly desirable.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.” Johnny said softly.

“Do whatever you want.” You replied breathlessly. “Just please. Make me cum.”

He chuckled. “If that’s what you want.”

You nodded eagerly. A devilish grin formed on his lips.

He stood up from the couch. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you up from the sofa. With one swift move, he tossed you over his shoulder.

He strode quickly towards the staircase. You shrieked, clutching at his shirt tightly. You kicked your legs wildly, desperately trying to escape from his grip.

Johnny was much stronger than you realized. Within seconds, he had thrown you down onto your bed. With one quick movement, he jumped on top of you. Your heart thundered against your chest.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. Kissing you fiercely.

Your body responded instinctively. Your pussy throbbed, begging for attention. Your nipples hardened beneath your shirt, yearning for a hard squeeze.

As his tongue probed into your mouth, his hands slid underneath your shirt. Pushing it up and off your shoulders.

His warm fingers trailed over your skin. Sending chills throughout your entire body. His lips trailed down your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh. Every single movement was driving you wild.

Every stroke of his tongue and caress of his fingertips set you on fire. You were soaking wet, longing for him to take you. For him to fill you with his cock. To give you the pleasure you deserve.

The moment his fingers brushed against your nipple, you let out a moan.

You arched your back, thrusting your breast towards him.

He chuckled. “God, Y/N. Are you trying to kill me?”

He grasped your bra, tearing it apart with ease. Your nipples sprang free. He rubbed his thumb over them, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oooohhhh, Johnny.” You moaned.

He grinned wickedly. “Does that feel good, baby? Do you like it when I play with your tits? When I suck on your nipples?”

“Yessss.” You gasped. “More. More. Fuck.”

“Oh god.” He groaned, biting down gently on your nipple.

He continued to flick his tongue across your other nipple, flicking harder each time. Your cries became louder. You felt like you were going to explode. It took everything in you not to reach down and unzip his pants.

Instead, you threw your head back and wrapped your arms around his neck. Tugging at his hair as he teased your nipples. Moaning loudly whenever he touched your skin.

Johnny smiled. He licked his lips hungrily, giving your breasts one last slow suck before letting go.

Leaving you panting for air.

“I've got to be honest with you, baby.” He breathed, pushing himself up onto his knees. “You taste amazing. Better than anything I've ever tasted before. And there's nothing else I'd rather do right now than to spend hours tasting every inch of your gorgeous body. Touching you. Kissing you. Licking you. And slowly entering you. Until I fill you with my cum.”

“Mmmmm. Fuck yes.” You whimpered, your voice sounding like an echo in the empty bedroom.

“Now where were we?” He asked slyly. “Ahh yes, your tits. Did you want me to suck on them some more? Maybe eat you out while I played with your tits?”

“Yes.” You breathed. “Please. Oh god, yes. Please.”

He chuckled. “Anything for you, baby. Anything.”

Slowly standing up, he began to strip off his shirt. Each piece of clothing was removed with great care. His tattoos were displayed prominently. They looked beautiful as always. The sight of them caused you to sigh in appreciation.

Once his shirt was completely gone, he leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on your stomach.

“That's better.” He whispered. “Now you're ready for me.”

His hands sliding your pants off. His lips kissing the insides of your thighs. Caressing your inner thigh with every kiss. Leaving you quivering with desire.

“Fuck!” You cried out. “Stop teasing me. Please. Just fuck me. Now!”

“Shhh.” He whispered. “Not yet. Not yet. There's still so much left to do first. Don't worry. You'll get what you need soon enough.”

Your hands dug into his hair, pulling his face closer to your pussy. You moaned loudly. The sounds of your pleasuring filling the room. His hot breath tickling your inner thighs. Your panties drenched with your juices.

Johnny looked up at you, his dark eyes darkened with lust.

“Look at me. Look how beautiful you are.” He said huskily. “Watch me taste you. Watch as I rub my tongue over your clit. See how good it feels. Know that I'm doing it to you. That I want to eat you out so badly.”

He gripped your hips, tugging you upwards. Opening his mouth wide. Licking your entire pussy, slowly spreading your juices.

Lapping at you slowly, teasingly. Going lower and lower until his tongue found your swollen clit. Pressing hard against it, rubbing his tongue in circles.

“Fuuuck.” You cried out. “Johnny! Johnny!”

“Such dirty talk, baby.” He said with a laugh. “Let me hear it. Let me hear you beg for me to make you cum. I want to hear you screaming for me.”

You clawed at his back, trying to pull his face deeper into your pussy. Screaming obscenities. Making animalistic sounds. Biting down on your pillow as he gave you all the pleasure you deserved.

Finally, his tongue plunged deep inside your pussy. Flicking over your clit in rapid succession. Sucking on it and flicking it. Pulling away occasionally to tease you. Tasting your juices. Giving you an extra burst of pleasure every time.

His pace increased rapidly. Pulling away for brief moments only to return immediately. Giving you even more pleasure than you expected. Soon you were trembling, nearing the point of no return.

It took everything you had not to lose control. Your entire body was consumed by ecstasy. Your pussy contracting rhythmically around his mouth. Pumping his tongue inside you, trying to keep yourself from coming. From exploding with orgasmic bliss.

But you couldn't hold it anymore. You began to cry out. Your body shuddered.

Sensing your impending climax, Johnny stopped sucking on your clit. He withdrew his tongue, but kept his lips firmly pressed against it. Keeping your orgasm contained.

His hands remained firmly on your hips. Tugging at your hips, forcing your body further upwards. You cried out as you tried to pull his face back into your pussy. Trying to force yourself to cum.

You came with a loud scream, your entire body tensing. Johnny followed your lead, groaning loudly as you pushed your pussy back into his face. Your thighs squeezing tight around his head, pulling him tighter against your clit. Your entire body trembling violently. Spasms racking your body. Bringing forth the most intense sensation you had ever experienced.

Suddenly, he stopped. Letting go of your hips. Sliding off your sweaty body. Standing up from the bed. Looking down at you.

“Baby, I know you came, but I'm not done yet.” He said quietly.

Looking down at your spread thighs, he smirked. He began to undo his pants.

You panted, waiting impatiently for him to reveal his erection. You knew what was coming next. You knew this would be the moment of truth. Would he be able to satisfy you? Would he actually be able to give you the satisfaction you were craving?

With one swift motion, his erect cock sprung free. Your eyes widened, almost as if you were surprised to see it. You hadn't been expecting it to be that big.

And you weren't wrong. His cock was absolutely enormous. Longer than any penis you had ever seen. Bulging with potential. You wondered if he could possibly fit inside you.

If he would hurt you.

But you know he wouldn't.

You stared at his cock hungrily, staring at it in disbelief. In awe. You reached out tentatively, touching it lightly. Fingers shaking slightly. Shaking as they traced their way along its length.

You felt the weight of it in your hand. Thicker than any cock you had ever felt. Fuller than any dick you had ever seen.

Before you could fully appreciate his massive erection, he grabbed hold of your wrist. Moving your hand to the tip of his cock.

“Just think about it.” He said quietly. “Imagine how amazing it will feel. Just imagine the sensations running through your body. Imagine how incredible it will feel to have this inside of you. How much more powerful it will be than any dick you've ever had before.”

Thinking about how large his dick would feel stretching your pussy open. Knowing that once he penetrated you, he would never leave. He would be inside you forever. Bringing you so much pleasure.

Giving you such pleasure. Satisfying you so deeply. Giving you what you needed. Allowing you to finally release all your pent up sexual tension. Giving you the ultimate sexual experience.

Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, you placed your lips against the head of his cock. Your tongue darting out. Drawing the warm liquid from his shaft. Overwhelmingly delicious.

Moving down, your lips parted. Your tongue sliding out of your mouth. Stretching out towards his cock. Swirling around it like a tiny tornado. Slickly coating his member with saliva. Getting him nice and wet. Allowing you to slide it further inside your mouth. Gently sucking on it, making sure to take it all in.

“Fuck.” He growled. “Oh fuck. You are so fucking sexy. So beautiful.”

Smiling brightly, you returned his compliment. Leaning forward, your tongue moved further into his crotch. Taking him even deeper inside your mouth. Tongue twirling around his thick base. Up and down the full length of his shaft. Playing with his balls. Feeling the resistance of his perineum.

Slowly moving back up to his tip. Taking him deeper inside your mouth again. Working your way down, taking him all the way to the bottom. Running your tongue along the underside of his shaft. As you slid back up to the tip, you sucked on it gently.

He groaned loudly, reaching out to grab hold of your head. Pushing you downwards so he could sink even deeper into your throat. Your nose pressed against his pubes, inhaling the musky scent. Sucking on his cock like it was a popsicle. Gagging a little bit. His thick length hitting the back of your throat with each movement.

Panting heavily, he held your head firmly in place. Gasping for air as he let out another moan. His dick pulsating wildly inside your mouth. Fluid seeping out of the end of his cock. Massaging your throat. Causing it to tingle pleasantly.

As he released his grip, you released his cock from your mouth. Pausing for a moment to catch your breath. Smiling happily at him. Proud of yourself for being able to handle his huge cock.

He smiled back at you. Reaching down, his fingers wrapping around your chin. Pulling you close to him. He kissed you passionately. Wrapping his arms around you. Holding you tightly. He tasted wonderful. His scent intoxicating. His warmth reassuring.

Gripping your ass tightly, he pulled you onto his lap. Sitting you down onto his hard cock. Watching as it filled your pussy. Slowly slipping inside of you.

Stopping halfway inside you, he gently lifted you up. Removing his erection from your pussy. Grinning as he laid you down on the bed. Positioning himself between your legs. His hard cock positioned at your entrance.

Pulling back slightly, he looked down at you. Seeing the desire in your eyes. Waiting for him to thrust his thick cock inside of you.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped your waist tightly. Slowly pushing forward. Delving inside of you. Feeling you wrap your legs around him. Tightening them around his body. Moaning loudly as he filled you completely.

Releasing his grip on your waist, he grabbed hold of your wrists. Placing them above your head. Hanging limply as he slowly fucked you. Gently pumping his cock into you.

Grinding your hips against him. Panting as you struggled to breathe properly. Wanting desperately to touch his cock, to stroke it. To watch it twitch in your hand. But he didn't allow you to do anything. He continued to thrust into you. Stroking his dick as fast as he could.

“Please.” You begged. “I need you to come inside of me. Please.”

Chuckling, he responded. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not just yet.”

His words spurred you on. Suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel his load splatter inside of you. Needing to feel his seed filling your pussy. Pouring into your body. And you would love every minute of it. Every single second.

He suddenly pulled out of you. Rolling over onto his back. “Climb on top of me. Put your tits in my face. I want to suck on them while you ride me.”

Lifting your ass, you quickly straddled his naked body. Hooking your fingers behind his neck. Settling yourself down onto his hard cock. You moaned loudly as you impaled yourself on him. Your hips bucking back and forth.

Johnny gripped your breasts, tugging on your nipples as you rode him. Squeezing your nipples hard. Twisting them as you slammed your pussy down on his dick. Slowly increasing the speed. Riding him faster and harder until he felt the familiar pressure building up inside of him.

“Hang on baby. Hang on. I'm going to come. Oh god.”

Moaning loudly, you brought yourself closer to climax. Johnny's dick pounding your walls relentlessly. Your whole body shuddering uncontrollably.

Feeling his climax building, Johnny wrapped his arms around you. Holding you tightly. Ensuring that you remain steady. Bringing you closer to release. Kneading your breasts, milking them roughly. Pleasuring them until you were completely overcome by pleasure.

Your orgasm ripping through your body. Crashing down upon you with relentless force. Sweeping you away into an ocean of pure bliss.

He moaned loudly, holding you tight. Panting heavily as he came inside of you. Your pussy gripping him tightly. Keep his semen within you. Silencing his lustful thoughts. Pushing them away, allowing him to rest peacefully.

Holding you closely, he watched as your climax slowly faded away. You lay on his chest, your breathing still erratic.

“So good.” You breathed softly.

“So fucking good.” He agreed. “That was the best. The absolute best."

"The best sex I've had in a long time." You let out a small laugh. You heard the front door of your apartment opening and closing, hearing voices talking about Johnny's coat and shoes. Someone, sounded like Taeyong, laughing at how you and Johnny finally fucked.

"I can hear you guys!" You yelled.

Johnny chuckled. "So I guess the guys are right outside, and they know exactly what happened."

Groaning, you buried your face into Johnny's shoulder. "I can hear Renjun and Haechan asking me all sorts of questions."

Smirking, Johnny spoke. "We can just tell them that the hot tattooed people are finally a couple."

"A couple?" You asked, lifting your head up. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Well, I originally came to see you tonight because I was on a mission." He laughed. "Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?"

Laughing loudly, you hugged him tightly. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Johnny."

Letting out a sigh of relief, he relaxed against you. "Thank god."

He mumbled, resting his head against yours. Breathing in your lovely scent, he listened to the sound of your heart beating. "This is the first time I've been with someone I really care about. So I don't want to mess it up. It has to work."

Snuggling against him, you smiled. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out together."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Yes." You answered, curious to hear what he was going to say.

"I love you." He told you. "And you need to know that."

"I love you too." You mumbled, running your fingers through his messy hair. "Forever."

He closed his eyes, biting his lower lip. A mischievous smirk appeared on his lips. He looked down at your tattooed sleeve, running his finger over a sunflower one. "I really love this design. What does it mean?"

You chuckled. "Sunflowers remind me of you."

Johnny froze, looking down at your tattoo.

You were shocked to see tears forming in his eyes. But you didn't have time to worry about it because he immediately placed a tender kiss on your lips.

Your heart fluttered wildly at his actions. Never had you felt so alive.

So happy.

So loved.

You hugged him tightly.

"Remember when you used to tease me about getting tattoos?" He asked you, giving you a sheepish smile. He caressed your cheek. "Remember when I told you I wouldn't get another one unless you joined me?"

"Yup." You nodded. "What happened to getting one with me?"

"I eventually got it with Taeyong and Yuta since I wasn't sure whether you wanted one with me or not." Johnny explained. "I'm still waiting to get one with you."

"What if I gave you the tattoo?" You offered, tracing his shoulder tattoo. "One of my designs so it's like you're taking me with you anywhere you go."

"I would love to be inked by you." Johnny whispered, turning his gaze towards you. "Anywhere you want."

Your breath hitched. This is exactly what you wanted.

You could only imagine the gorgeous tattoos you would create together. They would be so incredibly beautiful. A masterpiece. You would cherish them forever.

It would also make you feel special. Knowing that no matter where you went, Johnny would always carry part of you with him. Always be thinking of you. Remembering you. Cherishing your creations.

You didn't know how you could express how grateful you were for his words. Or for him choosing you. Loving you. Being with you.

All you knew was that you were going to treasure these feelings for as long as possible.

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Hi!

Could you do a headcannon of how Judd would act high around his significant other?

I feel like once he is high, he’s a little more soft and shows that a bit more

Yes!! High Judd = soft Judd fr 💪💪

Tags: fem/gn! Reader, erh the gender isn’t really specified but kinda fem? Mentions of weed and smoking it obviously, mentions of sex too bc yk, big mouth, this is probably the fluffiest thing I’ve written with Judd haha, but I was VERY tired and sleep deprived when I wrote this and did not beta read 😵‍💫

Author’s note: I have convinced my friend to start watching big mouth lmfao, and he actually agreed that Judd is hot 💪💪 it’s a win for the boys

High Judd Headcannons

Word count; 1,0K

He has two moods when he’s high 

You’ll either get super horny Judd or super soft Judd 

My personal favourite is soft Judd 

He’s all goofy smiles and cuddling 

Will think everything you say is hilarious too 

“Judd. Your parents are coming up the stairs, I can hear them,” 

He just lets out a cackle, one of those hoarse, drawn-out ones and just doesn’t answer 

It was kinda stupid of you to smoke in his room anyways,, but somehow he convinced you it was a good idea

The more stoned he gets, the more clingy he gets too 

If he’s in horny mode, he’ll obviously just fuck you harder and faster but if he’s in soft mode you’ll get a very unusual treatment 

Though not uncomfortable treatment, he’s just very, very touchy 

Like imagine Diane walking in the hallway upstairs, she walks past Judd’s room and the whole thing obviously smells like pot, so she enters and behold 

There Judd his— cuddling you, grinning while pressing his face into your stomach and leaving small kisses all over 

Not even in a sexual way 

He just loves you pls 🙏

You’re equally as stoned, running your fingers through his hair and complaining about it tickling 

My man LOVES when you tug or run your fingers through his hair, especially when he’s high 

He’ll literally just ask you to do it 

Diane finds the scene so cute she barely bothers scolding you for smoking, again she’s like 

“If you’re gonna do it, at least do it safely under my roof” 

She will call Elliot up, however, to gush over the to of you 

She’ll try to have him do it quietly though, so you won’t notice 

If you do though, happy stoned Judd will genuinely not care 

Like,, he seems to have smoked most of his anger away 

So he won’t even threaten his parents. Wow 🧐

Anyways, you don’t often do it at his house cause like,,, his parents 

But his car is the designated smoking spot

THATS ANOTHER THING 

He LOVES shotgunning you 

Your first kiss was probably bc he shotgunned you 

He was real smooth about it to; 

“Hey. Have you ever tried shotgunning?”

“No?”

“.. would you like to?” 

He’ll do it when he’s just smoking cigarettes too 

Judd really just wants every opportunity to kiss you, and ngl, seeing you exhale smoke makes him hella turned on 

He kinda has an obsession with your stomach when he’s high??? 

Like,, he’d like to lean his head on it and cackle if it makes noise, but ESPECIALLY he likes to splay his hands over it bc you’re genuinely so small compared to him 

And really soft too 

He’ll unabashedly smell you too, like the smell of your shampoo and perfume and shit makes him all lovestruck 

Stoned showers?? 🤭

Like if he’s in horny mode, he’ll definitely be up for a shower 

Seeing you both wet AND naked 

Yes pls. ✋

But like,, also if it’s at your house and you use your body wash and shampoo on him he’ll go 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Lmfao his family will DEFINITELY comment on it 

Like when he gets home and he smells like strawberry milk and flowers or whatever you use 

He’ll only let you do that when he’s high 

You gotta understand, he has a reputation— 

But, back to my point 

Soft Judd is so straight forward? Will say whatever is on his mind 

But like Judd in general is also really quick to get going, if yk what I mean 

So his soft comments about your smell or how soft you are will turn into something like;

“Sweetheart. D’you wanna sit on my dick for a while or something?” 

Ooooohhh,, soft high Judd has a thing for cockwarming 

I mean, he’s already touchy and sorta horny so you just sitting on him for hours is absolutely perfect 

He’d love watching you wiggle and struggle, red in the face and desperate pleas leaving you as you try to bounce yourself on him 

He would just laugh at your struggles and lightly tell you to stay put, and if you’re really good, he will fuck you later 

He would LOVE to fall asleep with his hard dick inside you 

Just being as close to you as possible 

He’d wake up later tho, not nearly as stoned but is cock still as hard and fuck the living shit out of you 

No okay but soft dom Judd? 😋

He can be stoned without being horny too, but it’s a rare occurance 

You’d smoke in his car and end up on the roof, stargazing 

He claims not to be romantic but when he’s stoned he gets sappy as shit 

“I really fucking love you.” 

He’d mumble into your hair, nuzzling his face into it a little bit 

Aw, you’d melt 

If you return the favor and tell him you love him too he’ll get so embarrassed though 

He’d blush and look away 🥰🥰🥰🤭🤭

I feel like he’s always some level of stoned though 

So he’d have to be really really high for him to be able to open up like that 

Fr it happens only like once every other full moon 

Obviously he does love you, his mom is always on his ass about it telling him to tell you more often lol 

When he comes down he’ll sleep for like days 

Okay maybe that’s exaggerating a bit,, but he’ll be so fast asleep you’ll worry if he died lmfao 

And he’s so groggy when he wakes up too 

If you’re less affected, he’ll definitely expect you to coddle him and bring him food or something 

But if you’re more or the same as him, you’ll just spend the day in his bed 

Taking turns sleeping and fucking 

Idc no matter how tired he is, being in his bed means sex at some point 

Also his mom is an actual life saver and will bring the two of you snacks and food 

(I love Diane ok) 

This, however, is only if you get really fucking stoned 

I feel like usually he would just act like himself, maybe a bit less tense and a lot more handsy 

But yk, the above is for extreme cases were he’s been smoking a lot lol 

Ok I actually need to sleep my eyes are closing by themselves 🧍🏻and I have some sick character development I need to do tomorrow

Tags; @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn

[bonesofapoet]

Heyy could u maybe do a frank castle x cook!reader who's like a female (or not what u want) carmen berzatto from The Bear

bittersweet author's note: god this was actually really fun to do?! i loved this request?!?!? the one where you wonder why you came home to save a dying pipe dream, but frank is your anchor when all you want to do is torch the place and be a menace to society. word count: 1600

On Tuesday evening, Frank Castle found you trying not to scream.

The alley was quiet, as night began to cloak the city in adamantine bands. Glittering light swept across the sky in familiar arcs of glowing stardust and heartfelt stories. A breeze, cool and gentle, flew across your skin in waves, a most welcome contrast to the warmth of the kitchen you’d been cooped up in since early afternoon.

The sudden stillness wanted to make you fucking cry. But you couldn’t cry, sure as all holy hell not here, not now. Screaming would be a better route to take - you’d get less shit from that - and you were positive most of the sound would be covered anyway, or, unfortunately, ignored - yet it felt like you’d been louder than usual all afternoon, which, funny enough, did nothing to ease the ebb and flow of a building storm just waiting for an excuse to break free from this fucking shit show called a restaurant -

“Hey,” says a voice. The crunch of footsteps catches you on your fall back down to Earth. They guide you back to a body so fraught with tension that you are, quite honestly, curious how the hell you’re still alive and kicking. “This a bad time?”

The laugh spilling through the alleyway is more than a little aggressive. More than a little sarcastic. It tumbles through your lips without thought, but then again, most things do when you're around Frank Castle. He's someone you can let go around, even on the days you'd rather burn down your inheritance than drag it kicking and screaming from the burial shroud it's been swathed in since you came back home.

The word home almost gets stuck in your throat.

“Well,” you say, a tired sigh hissing through your teeth, threatening to catch on the bones like barbed wire. The palms that flutter up dig into your eyes for a moment. Then two. They fall back to your sides, though your gaze stays locked on the few constellations unhidden by the godawful pollution filling the city. You supposed you would be a little more grateful for that,  seeing the cosmos in any capacity, had you taken a. . .more gracious path of life. A more selfish one. One that didn't involve feeling guilt tripped into coming home to save a dead relative’s pipe dream from its own invariably slow and horrifically painful death. “That depends. You up for hire?”

Frank Castle steps under a stray glimmer of moonlight, starlight - it all looks the same, these days - and laughs, soundless, at your barb. At least, he thinks, he’s pretty sure you're joking. The closer he watches you - sees how your eyes aren't gleaming in their teasing tell, how your lips don't tilt at their corners when you're trying to hide the sin.

He watches you inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Watches your eyes fall down from the velvet sky to rest on him, hardly a worthy companion in comparison to the natural beauty surrounding you, even here, among this corner of your life that seems to be literally anything other than shiny.

You, on the other hand, would beg to differ.

“I really hope you don't mean that,” Frank starts, “because I would really hate to hike up your overhead. You know. Make your life worse, instead of doing you a favor.”

“Oh please,” you say, a smile clawing its way from the shadows after all. “That would be a favor, believe it or not.”

Frank chances a few steps closer, toes a loose pile of gravel by his boots. Looks up at you with brows drawn together just a little. It's cute, you think. More so than the full on scowl that intimidates a few of your nightmare colleagues inside. Your smile grows wider, feels genuine at the recollections.

“That bad, huh?”

The back door flies open, as if your own words would be an inadequate injustice to his question. He'd just have to settle for a little example then, something to really hammer home the reality of your headache personified. The hinges screamed at the quickness, the roughness, and any sense of peace you had begun to gather was about to evaporate into a flurry of nothing. You meet Frank’s eyes, and your expression conveys the very haughtiness of someone about to give him the proof of a lifetime.

He simply steps into a shadow, and watches.

Your name is falling through the doorway loud enough for the whole godforsaken block to hear, twisting and catching gracelessly around the latest woe that literally any entry level Sioux chef could solve in their sleep.

(Moments like this one made you question why, exactly, it was that you left - willingly left - the first, and only job that did not have you scrambling for sanity. Not counting, y'know, the constant anxiety of never being good enough to cook at a Michelin restaurant in New York fucking City. That was neither here nor there, these days.)

Silence follows, punctuated by the white noise of banter and the familiar, oh-so-beloved chaos spilling into the night from the threshold beyond. A lot of the unsavory arguing is carried off by the wind, yet you heard the gist, all the same.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

“I'll be back in a minute.” You say, not even turning to the door, to your chef.

“Are you -”

The voice cuts off, dead in the breeze as Frank Castle is finally noticed lurking in the shadows. You turn around then, fully facing the silhouette, illuminated ominously against a backdrop of aggressive industrial lighting.

“Did you hear what I just said, or do you need to be pulled from the line and re-enrolled in fucking preschool?”

“I - sorry. I'll - I'll go relay the message.” The silhouette moves backwards into the light, hand pulling the door so it follows. Almost closed - it stops, along with your chef, slinking around the edge to tack on what was forgotten in the hasty, unpolished departure. “- Chef. I'll relay the message, Chef.”

At least an attempt was made. That was progress. And maybe, one day in the far, far, far, far future - you wouldn't have to hide in an alley trying not to think about arson. Frank Castle wouldn't carve out time to hide with you - even if it is of his own accord - playing bodyguard in case anyone felt bold enough to try backing you into a corner.

“Same shit, different day.” your hands find their way to closed eyes once more, a groan spilling into the alley to dance in the breeze.

Frank stepped out of the darkness, tendrils of velvety smoke clinging to him like a long lost lover, the remnants of a dream fraying at the edges. He stops a mere step away, hands buried deep in  pockets instead of reaching for you, instead of pulling you all safe and sound to his chest. God, he thought, what he would give to hold you in his arms. Especially on a beautiful night like this one, when you were too frazzled to see it.

“Coulda been worse. No one said anything offensive this time.”

“That's because you scare them, Frank.” hands flutter back down. Frank is close when eyes blink open, slow and involuntary and grateful, even, maybe a little - if only so you can have him close enough to touch. You even smile a bit, something real this time, even if it is a little sardonic. Even if it is a little saccharine sweet.

Something flares in his eyes as he looks at you, burns hot and bright and fast before fizzling down to an ember, a spark, then nothing out of the ordinary at all. He doesn't kill the way his lips slope upward though, mirroring the infection your smile imbues into his own. Your fingers twitch, longing to close the distance, to reach over and feather a soft touch along his jaw.

“Maybe that's why I check in. Make sure they're treatin’ ya right.”

You huff a laugh, head tipping up and up and up to revel one last glimpse of the moon before heading back in to deal with the latest crisis you could, no doubt, avoid in your fucking sleep -

Then, a hand, slow and warm and steady slips to the small of your back, an anchor to your swaying body while you savor one last moment of blissful fucking silence. You feel Frank's hand countering you - acutely aware of every flex and point of pressure while you sway ever so slightly. It's - well. It's the first time your brain has, quite literally, shut the fuck up in days. Weeks, maybe. Months, possibly.

Your eyes drift shut, trusting him to catch you if you fall.

“And would you? Treat me right?”

A horn blares on the next block. Sirens scream in the distance. Voices shout from just inside the door. The laugh Frank adds to the muffled symphony of your world is just as quiet, yet it's the only thing that's crystal clear. The only thing that's sweet and honest, something you'd like to bottle up and craft a dish inspired by the thrill it invokes as it washes over your skin.

“You really askin’ me if I’d do right by you? Shit, sugar - I think we both know the answer to that.”

You sway a little, at his words.

His grip on you tightens, another hand resting on your waist. Your smile grows, glowing in the moonlight, starlight, all of the above. The voices inside fade into nothing as your hands rise to find his shoulders, another anchor to keep you from drowning.

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

SIX EIGHT

SEVEN

You wake up hours later in a hospital bed, letting out a light laugh, genuinely relieved to be alive, though there’s a dull ache in your stomach. You lift your hospital gown and notice stitches—they must have operated on you. When you pass your hand over the bandage, you can almost feel the wound underneath. The hospital room is empty, and the solitude is striking. You can’t remember who helped you; you only replay the moment you were stabbed and the message your attacker demanded you deliver to Barnes.

Lost in your thoughts, a doctor enters your hospital room, quietly closing the curtains. Suspicion creeps over you—perhaps this is someone coming to harm you again. "Doctor, is it really necessary to close the curtains? I’d feel better if I could see the activity in the hospital," you murmur, shifting in your bed, discreetly glancing around for anything you might use to defend yourself if this "doctor" is not who he claims to be.

He then removes the hospital mask, revealing himself to be Barnes, dressed in medical attire. He approaches you swiftly, pulling you into an embrace, as though he needs to confirm that you’re truly there with him. "You gave me a scare. I thought I’d lost you," James Barnes says, holding you tightly and breathing in your scent as if he needs to ground himself in your presence. You, however, are not quite as thrilled to see him.

"No need to act like I’m important; I’m a grown woman. Or did you forget that you screwed me and then left in the middle of the night?" you say, pushing Barnes away with a serious tone. He looks at you, as if he desperately wants to explain but can’t. Yet, he reaches out, touching your face as if hoping a gentle touch might soften you. "I had to leave. Unfortunately, being hunted by several dangerous people, I can’t afford to spend the night with the woman I…" Barnes begins, but he stops, unwilling to reveal whatever it is he feels for you.

"You know, it’d be easy for you to fool me with the way you act. But let me finish that sentence for you—I’m the woman you use when it’s convenient. Or, at least, I was. Now, how did you know I was here?" you ask, adjusting yourself in the hospital bed once more, this time shifting your body further away from him. Barnes offers a strained smile, clearly displeased with the direction of the conversation.

"‘I knew you’d be my hero.’ Does that ring a bell?" Bucky's tone is tense. "You were probably delirious, which explains why you were so sweet to me, but I was the one who brought you here. Yeah, the jerk here saved the princess from dying in front of her own bakery. And all I get for saving your life is hearing you question my intentions." He steps closer, anger simmering in his voice and expression. Does he look incredibly attractive like this? Absolutely. Are you going to let him know that? Absolutely not. It’s probably just the meds making you feel drawn to him in this ridiculous situation.

"My life wouldn’t be at risk if it weren’t for you, darling. The least you can do is save me every time I’m in danger," you reply, your tone steady, making it clear you’re serious. Yet he gives you a sly smile, slipping his hands around your waist and pulling you closer.

"I will always save you, no matter the situation; that’s a promise." He says, kissing your cheek slowly, with a tenderness that catches you off guard. You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of his lips against your skin, only to open them and find him leaning in for a kiss. It’s slow and gentle, as though he’s afraid of causing you harm. When your lips part, you murmur, "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Barnes."

"I promise you, I’ll keep you safe. And to prove it, know that I’ve asked Steve to come keep an eye on you. He’ll be here any minute, so I have to go. Behave yourself," he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing and slipping the hospital mask back on. His blue eyes linger on you, watching intently. Yet there’s something you’re forgetting to tell him, something important. But your eyelids are growing heavy as you watch him leave. Perhaps a little nap will do you good.

Hours later, you wake feeling like you’ve finally rested. To your surprise, you see Steve asleep in the uncomfortable hospital chair beside your bed. You feel a pang of sympathy for him, injured and forced to sleep in such an awkward position. But he looks so endearing as he sleeps that you can’t help but watch him. "You really do look like a teddy bear," you murmur, smiling softly. He then smirks, eyes still closed, and murmurs, "Care to come give me a hug?" startling you enough that you almost jump out of the hospital bed.

"It’s quite rude to pretend to be asleep, Mr. Rogers," you chide him, watching as he opens his eyes, a laugh escaping him at your startled reaction. He shifts in the chair, now fully alert, and gazes at you with a warm expression.

"I apologize for my behavior, Miss Y/L/N. Now tell me, did you miss me so much that you decided to get stabbed just to see me again?" Steve asks with a hint of arrogance in his tone. You throw the pillow that was propping you up at him, laughing as it hits his face.

"As if I needed an excuse to make you come see me. Don't forget, you're the one who asked me out for a second date, clever boy," you respond, watching as Steve rises from the chair, the pillow in his hands. He tosses it behind you, leaning in close. "I still want our date to happen, so try not to die before then," he says, his breath warm against your face, making you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. You look up, suddenly face to face with him.

"Seriously, you could have really gotten hurt. So no matter what you say, I'm going to stay here to take care of you," Steve states, as if your opinion doesn't matter. "Was that your idea or Bucky's?" you ask, your tone serious and a bit annoyed that neither of them includes you in discussions about your own life or safety.

"Consider it our idea. I should thank you; he wouldn’t have reached out to me without your help. But right now, the most important thing is keeping you safe," Steve replies, still close to you. "That’s foolish. You still have a hurt arm, even if you’ve taken the splint off. Not to mention, I wasn’t the target of that stabbing," you say, feeling uneasy and inadvertently saying more than you should. Steve seems to understand immediately what happened.

"If Bucky was the target, someone wanted to send him a message when they attacked you. Did the person who hurt you say anything?" Steve asks, leaning down slightly beside the bed to meet your gaze, studying your eyes as if trying to decipher your thoughts.

"He mentioned something about an Alexander Pierce sending his regards or something like that. He also talked about something called Hydra." You see no reason to lie to Steve now. But before he can respond, you spot your mother approaching your hospital room. "Hey, Steve; I need you to follow my lead and not think too much about what’s about to happen," you murmur, pulling his face closer to yours and giving him a kiss. You're secretly hoping it will embarrass your mother enough to make her leave, but instead, she stands at the door with her usual judgmental expression, clearing her throat to announce her presence. "Am I interrupting the lovebirds?" she asks, prompting you and Steve to separate your lips.

There’s an elderly man approaching your hospital door as well, a gray-haired gentleman. He’s holding a bouquet as he nears your mother and kisses her on the cheek. You and Steve exchange glances while being observed by what appears to be your mother and her new boyfriend. "Mom, come in. This is my boyfriend, Steve. Steve, this is my mother, one of the most famous cooks in the United States, Mrs. Y/L/N," you introduce them, watching as Steve stands up to greet your mother, who approaches you along with her partner. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve. I had no idea my daughter had a boyfriend," your mother says, giving Steve a light hug before turning to face you.

"And actually, dear, I’m now Mrs. Pierce. Come here, dear. Since we're introducing our companions, meet my husband, Alexander Pierce. It's a shame we didn't get the chance for me to introduce your stepfather to you before you were almost killed, but now seems like a good time," your mother says, and the man behind her steps forward, shaking your hand as he greets you. But you’re too shocked to react. Steve seems to have noticed, as Alexander tries to hand you the flowers he brought, and Steve grabs them while you struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

"It’s a pleasure to finally meet my beloved wife’s daughter. I’ve heard so much about you," Alexander Pierce says, wrapping his arms around your mother’s waist and gazing at her affectionately. You and Steve exchange a look that conveys a silent question: "What the hell is happening?" Your mind races, realizing that your new stepfather could be the reason you find yourself in a hospital bed now. The only person who can clarify this situation is James Barnes.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 3 thoughts

it’s been a bit since i last watched an episode (count: 5 whole days!) and i need my hit of scully and mulder time. so imagine my surprise when i went to watch today’s episode, and saw it is not about scully and mulder, but the lone gunmen? 

hmm. hmm hmm. well, how do i feel about this?

let’s just say that when i was doing my preliminary research to see if i wanted to watch this show, i came across a plot point that is going to be addressed in a few episodes, and i want to reach them NOW to see how they play out. and that is all i will say on the matter. 

even if i really really really REALLY want to say more. i will not. 

(author's note: imagine me sadly pressing my palm against a rainy window... no scully and mulder time today 😔)

okay. so lone gunmen origin story… let’s see where this brings us!!

it’s 1989 (the intro riff to style begins playing from an unknown source)

the swat people are here in maryland because there are a lot of gunshots. so they’re going into this mysterious building, rifles drawn, and everything is very very dark. 

there’s blood on the floor but nobody around!!! and then they hear a guy groaning under a cardboard box???

whoever it is keeps moaning “they’re here, they’re here” <- WHO IS HERE?

woahhhh another guy finds the lone gunmen!!! they say they didn’t do it!!

while they’re being arrested, the guy under the box keeps yelling that they’re here. which does not clear up anything. 

was that naked box man mulder…? no, it can’t be….

the intro was shorter again this time. i WILL make note of it no matter how many times it happens.

sad byers is in a jail cell with the homies :( the girls are fighting!!!! it seems they did NOT get along at first

IT WAS MULDER IN THAT CARDBOARD BOX?????? “he’s currently being held in five point restraints”, says the cop talking to byers <- what does THAT MEAN (types furiously into a search engine) ohhh okay. okay. got it now.

byers wants to know where a lady is, and he says that she IS real, because mulder saw her, but…. this answers none of my, nor the cop's, questions

“so what i’m looking at here is a warehouse break-in with nothing stolen, a shootout but no guns, lots of blood but no bodies, and an FBI agent who likes to take off all his clothes and talk about space aliens” <- yeah, that sounds about right 

BYERS WAS BORN THE DAY KENNEDY DIED???? okay that is crazy for reincarnation theorists 🔥 

LMAO is that why his name is “john fitzgerald” … my brain put together the date quicker than the name itself 

yes, he confirms this immediately after i type it up. fun byers trivia for ya, i guess.

so he works for the federal communications commission, for now at least. he was at a computer con booth giving out buttons when all of this began!! aww, he looks so happy to be gathering your information

NO some random people were mean to him and he looks so sad now :( (him being referred to as narc is a repeated occurrence throughout the episode)

he sees a mysterious woman at the booth?? who starts to say something, but then leaves. and he follows her while his coworker is going to town on some computer games. aww man, i wanna show this guy tears of the kingdom. he’d be so happy.

mysterious woman runs into frohike, who is giving her a speech on a machine he made that gives you 33 channels of premium TV??

(i was going to say "i do not think that sounds legal" but i didn't want to sound like a Youngling. but yeah. not legal)

and langly is in the booth next door to him heckling him 💀

they’re fighting over who sells better bootleg cable LMAOOOOO!! who will win?!

this spat allows mystery woman to escape, but byers runs into her!!! she drops a photo of a child and he says “she’s very cute” as he hands it back to her. byers, why are you kind of a puppy dog here? look at him. aww.

he is stuttering and says she looks like she could use some help, but not in a way that sounds condescending at all; he seems like he genuinely means it, even if he doesn’t know wtf is going on.

oh my god, well looks like he is good at sniffing out the truth. he sits down with mysterious lady, who begins to tell him about how her child, who just turned three, was kidnapped by her boyfriend recently. the ex boyfriend is very dark and mysterious but dipped when there was a kid involved… but then came back and took her??! who is this man????

and the investigators are not finding anything!!! EXCEPT that the guy is in baltimore somewhere. but now the guy knows she’s looking for him!!!!!

she hands byers a card that says "arpanet/whtcorps" which he knows the meaning of; apparently it’s a special government project, and you can access it through the internet. glad it means something to him because it sure doesn't to me.

ohhhh, byers says he’ll try and go online and figure it out… i feel like he’s being drawn into some sort of trap, but he just wants to do the right thing….

they finally introduce each other, and now we know that mystery woman is named holly. good to know. he points out that there is a pack of sugar right in front of them that says holly?? ohhhh is she lying and that was the first name she came up with…….?

so byers comes back and kicks his coworker ken off of the computer. ken has been EVICTED!!!

the code brought them to the defense data network!!! and she wants him to hack into it??? that feels like a huge ask….

he betrays his FCC code of ethics and tries to get in there… and it takes him literally 3 seconds. damn. he could have been doing that all along. it was simply his moral code holding him back.

they find an encoded file allegedly for her daughter susanne modeski, but i don’t buy it….

but as they’re printing out the papers with the code on them, she says she sees the crazy ex boyfriend!!! they hide… why am i scared it’ll be mulder lmaooo 

AND IT IS????????

what the fuck. 

so, obviously she’s lying on a bunch of different levels. i'm trying to imagine mulder kidnapping a child. it’s laughable. 

he runs into frohike and says “no thanks, handsome” to his offer of bootleg cable and frohike responds with “ah, a man of distinction” <- LMAO so they've just been flirting with each other from the very start?? good to know

mulder’s hair is fluffy to try and make him look younger, and it’s kinda funny and kinda adorable, but mostly funny 

byers and holly go to frohike for help, because he is a very good hacker!!! he says, why are we trying to crack this code if we can just beat the shit out of your ex boyfriend and find your daughter??? it’s a very good point. holly says it’s too dangerous. 

“lady, I’M dangerous” <- LMAOOOO frohike is a king of knowing his value

frohike says i’ll just go find him!! he could have the girl here for all we know!! that's direct action baby!!

holly’s trying to get them to stop following mulder, the "mysterious ex", while byers and frohike watch him…… mulder grabs some alien detection machine and it goes off (lmao) but then he darts into a back corridor. 

and he finds them first!!! OHHHH he busts out the picture of holly and says they’re looking for her at the FBI ohhh nooooo

NOOOO... holly’s gone and ken is being taken away because they think he did the hacking… but all he did was play dig dug 😭😭 poor ken

byers starts to say it was him that did it, when frohike says you cannot turn yourself in as a hacker!!! aww byers :( he doesn't want any trouble... how far he has progressed in the episodes during which we come to know him since these initial moments of guilt and doubt

frohike says they need to hack into the FBI so they can figure out what is up with this woman. byers is gagged at such a request, but then frohike reminds him he’s literally already hacked into the government today, so get used to it.

meanwhile, langly is gambling??? wait. they’re playing D&D. how do you gamble while playing D&D??? no time to answer that. byers and frohike interrupt to request his assistance!

before he can agree to anything, langly makes frohike confess that HIS is the best kung fu 💀💀💀😭😭

byers is having a crisis as he realizes he will probably go to jail… meanwhile, langly hacked right into the FBI!!!! with great efficiency!!

omg wait!!! we have mulder’s info here…. he was born 10/31/61 and his eyes are green??? i guess i don’t spend a lot of time admiring his eyes. and he has a telephone number that i’m sure people still call and whoever it belongs to gets (rightfully) pissed tf off. 

WAIT, IT LISTS HIS CAREER HISTORY….

"1983-1986: oxford university 

1986: quantico academy 

1988: currently assigned to the violent crimes unit"

this answers almost none of my questions, and if i think about it for longer than 3 seconds, i will end up doing a whole post trying to figure out HIS timeline in addition to scully’s. so now i have to struggle with THAT. we’ll circle back to it.

(i'm going to assume those 3 years at oxford would be for a grad degree? unless he went off and traveled the world before attending undergrad? because he would be 26 when went to quantico and then 23 when he started oxford, which gives him enough time to have done an undergrad degree somewhere else?? yeah. let's go with that for now)

they realize there is nothing in his profile about being psychotic or having a daughter, so that’s a point against holly. look at the man! looks totally sane.

OH tea…. HOLLY *is* susanne modeski, wanted for MURDER, SABOTAGE, and other crimes such as TERRORISM!!!! she blew up a lab!!!! this is... not good.

poor byers is realizing what he has done while someone enters the room!!! it’s HER!!!!!!

now what is going on here!!!!! she denies the blowing up of the lab and the killing of people, saying instead she tried to quit her job, which is not a job where you can just quit. and there is no daughter. byers looks so hurt. aww :(

she says that the coded file he found earlier contains everything she needs to expose the government’s plot against its own people… and she had unwittingly moved it forward by developing “ergotamine-histamine gas” <- well. that doesn’t sound good.

it causes anxiety and paranoia on its subjects!! is that what was released in mulder’s apartment at the end of s2??

(sometimes i miss big pieces because i'm so tuned into the little details. like finding out birthdays and the character's wall decorations. ergot i remember from never again, though)

susanne slash holly says the government is going to release this chemical onto the public in baltimore!!

she says the government is behind what happened to JFK and also placing bibles in hotel rooms. you see, i do not think these are quite on the same level of crime. oh, she says it’s for surveillance. well. okay. i guess. 

they don’t seem to believe her, but she has a gun so they move forward with cracking the code as she requests. the message talks of an “E.B.O.”, an engineered biological operation, using toxins on humans. 

ohhhhh there’s an address for where the toxins are located!!!! and she is being watched at all times, ordered by dr. kilbourne, who she says is her dentist??????

now what does her dentist have to do with this? OH, a mouth implant!!! i realize this mere milliseconds before she takes some pliers and leaves the room. you can imagine what will happen next.

she goes to the bathroom to pull out a tooth and it has a…. thingy in it????? what it actually does is incredibly unclear, and tbh i'm cool with that. i don't need to know everything

they flushed the tooth for the fear of giving away the location. which does make sense, but part of me thought they would study it. then they go to the warehouse and find the chemicals in the boxes as described. they are keeping the chemicals in asthma inhalers!!! that's just diabolical.

NOOOO, mulder is here!!!! and he is placing them all under arrest!!!

but then two other people come to grab her??? and mulder is like who tf are you????? they start shooting!!!! and the gas is spilling all over him!!!!!! which is why he’s ripping off his clothes!!!

the two mystery men go to shoot him, but susanne shoots them first!!!!

he’s writhing about….. and she runs away…. when a team arrives wearing gas masks???

AND THEY HAVE X WITH THEM?? who walks up to the lone gunmen, past them, and over to mulder????

X tells them to “sanitize it” while the lone gunmen are watching…… it is giving that scene in monsters inc

mulder is seeing aliens due to the drugs!!!! and that’s why he’s saying “they’re here” ohhh okay that makes sense

they take the guys susanne shot, and they throw 'em in body bags. then seal all of the other boxes of the gas, as well as the opened packaging on the floor that came from the boxes being shot a billion times.

byers asks X what authority he has to do this, which leads him to being told to stfu by frohike…. but he’s not letting it go!!!! ohhhh now they’re being sat down execution style…. X has the gun, and it is behind the head of byers...

the gun is empty, though!!!! so he tells them to "behave yourselves" and leaves. THAT'S ALL HE'S GOING TO DO?? he's going to let them simply walk away???

“it’s all true what susanne said about you people, isn’t it?", asks byers, as X leaves; "about john f kennedy, dallas?”

“i heard it was a lone gunman” <- OHHHH NAME ORIGIN REVEAL 🔥🔥🔥

(i’ve missed X rolling up, saying the coldest lines, and disappearing into the night air... rest in peace king)

someone comes to pick him up, and he leaves. just an average day on the job for a guy like him.

back to byers being questioned, where we began all of this. and the cop does not believe him at all, lmao. would you??

frohike and langly are groaning about women because “your molar pulling girlfriend roped us in and left us swinging in the breeze” (crazy sentence btw) (let's not get misogynistic about it)

oh byers is PISSED at this “i’m here because i wanted to learn the truth” <- YEAH, YOU TELL EM!!

he says she doesn’t owe him anything!!! she opened his eyes to the truth!!! i love a sad looking man with a moral compass!!

and mulder verified their story so they can leave now!!!

mulder’s car was stolen, so they think that susanne took it and went to the newspaper... and sure enough, we see her leaving the building.

they run to find her, knocking down some random guy in the process (LMAOOO) she says the reporters didn’t believe her story, and no one would, but she appreciates their help

oh, and now she’s kissing byers. you see, i didn’t want it to go in that direction. but here we are.

the pay phone right next to them starts ringing,,, and she says “no matter how paranoid you are, you’re not paranoid enough” and that they need to tell as many people as they can the truth; that is their weapon!!! so that must be why they started their organization? to spread the truth?

she is then shoved in a dark car with X in the backseat????

the three or them are then at the convention center while things are getting cleaned up. and mulder is here!!! he says he has weird ideas. susanne is no longer wanted by the FBI… he needs to know wtf happened last night!!

(zoom out as they begin explaining that the government wishes to control and surveil our lives)

mulder does a shocked “whaaa?” at this news and it was so funny lmao

yeah yeah yeah the government is always watching us. we all know that.

so! an interesting episode to see the origins of the nerds, but i’m not sure exactly what it’s leading to? why did we get an origin story for them now? are they going to be playing a bigger role in the rest of the season? or did they just think this was a nice time for a lore reveal?

hmm. hmm. 

well, you may recall that earlier i specially was craving scully and mulder time. and i got NONE OF THAT HERE. so frankly, yes, i am annoyed. i’m not even saying it was a bad episode!! it just didn’t have scully in it, which makes it far less enjoyable than it could be.

i did enjoy seeing more into each of their individual personalities, though, so that is good? and i love how byers wants to be a good guy. aww. he's adorable.

i guess this was a fine episode, but it wasn't what i was looking forward to when i sat down and began watching, which was agents on the case time, so i may have no choice but to watch another episode tonight in an attempt to scratch that itch.

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

Hyunjin in relationships Astro pt.2

This is the second part of my other Hyunjin reading. I'm going to be so for real here, I was going to add more aspects and stuff I look into but this is already way too long. So...Yeah. Also, preferably you should start with my tarot reading here

Pt. 1

So, to start, if Hyunjin was married to his partner he'd like their marriage to be very orderly and structured. He'd want a balanced family life that's harmonious and a place where he and his family can be truly at ease. Though if he ever had kids he'd definitely struggle with laying down the law for them and probably be prone to spoiling them rotten, so his partner would have to be the authoritative figure.

He's very responsible and practical in matters of the heart, all things considered. At first when he falls it's a steady, controlled love before it very quickly consumes his entire being because that's how he is.

His love is definitely the type that flip-flops. It could go from calm, fluffy romance to (Tell me why I was about to put Kevin Gates...Never that) this passionate, fiery, sensual kind of romance.

He could be prone to...Abusing his natural sexuality? Like he'll use...Intimacy to get out of situations or gain what he wants. Like (I'm trying to keep this PG13 so bear with me here and I really don't know if I used the right bear but it's like 3:00 AM and I can't be assed to check) for example, him and his partner have a disagreement about something so he uses his...Body against them? Like next thing you know you're rolling around in the sheets unable to think straight and he's like "So yeah can we get a dog?" And naturally you say yes because you're not thinking straight because it's Hwang motherfucking Hyunjin and next thing you know you have a dog

Arguments? Minor quarrels? Jealousy? Etc. etc. Any and everything

Hyunjin 100% is the type of partner to take you on a date to the mall and something and it's almost like a mini fashion show. You'll probably walk out with arms full of new clothes.

So much in his chart revolves around either sexuality or romance. Like it's split 50/50. So.

He's most definitely the jealous type. He gets very paranoid and overthinks everything. Probably the type that doesn't introduce you to the group or his friends for a while, not because he wants to hide you but because he's scared you'll fall for one of them or vice versa, and he just overthinks everything.

I wouldn't be surprised if Hyunjin has had breakups because he cheated. LIKE, I think he's a generally loyal partner, but he's very influenced by the people around him. If they're cheating, he thinks it's okay for him to. And cheating is very normalized in Korea, ESPECIALLY via prostitution, and he has a very strong sex drive. Granted, apparently he has a very religious background which would kind of repel him from cheating? So it's a toss up.

But he's also very restless. If things are the same for too long he grows bored of it. If things are too easy for too long he grows bored of it. And then he starts to wander. And settling down in general is a task for him. And sure he should probably just break up if he notices his eye wandering, but he doesn't want to hurt you, so naturally (note my sarcasm, but this is just how I see his logic being), he just needs to keep it a secret and stay with you, right?

Then you find out.

But with Hyunjin...He could be cheating for YEARS before you find out.

Now, if he has a lot of positive influences cheating won't be something you have to worry about. And even if his eye wanders he'll probably just break up because he doesn't wish to hurt you.

And if he's genuinely in love with you you don't have to worry about him cheating either.

But do you remember how I said he's prone to be in relationships but never in love with the other party? Yeah.

He also expects impossible and unreasonable things from his partners.

He's drawn to things that are forbidden, and loves a chase in love. Not in the sense of "Oh, let's pursue this person who so obviously wants me to stop" but kind of in the sense that in love he likes someone who keeps him on his toes and makes him have to work hard for it, but not too hard. Just that little push and pull.

He'd probably try a lot of new things if he knows you like or are interested in them.

[dangermousie]

By now, I am genuinely adoring My Demon. It actually manages to mix funny and feeling really well. And demon boy is his own petty self but the whole ep we are watching him become slightly more human. NGL, at his most self-deceiving, he's hilarious.

Side note: in addition to the demon trope, we now have a bodyguard trope AND contract marriage trope. This drama is a gift.

But also, what I really love is that it actually manages to put in wistfulness and make my heart flutter - they are finding some sort of odd tentative middle ground - where he saw that girl saying she wished her parents to be happy and got FL's point while FL watched the little family celebrate and got his. But on a purely shallow note, what I loved even more than his tilting the umbrella over her so she's covered and he's not (a delightful cliche for a reason), but that she's wearing those insane heels and he's still towering over her. Heh.

It's pretty sad that the only comfort at her adopted mom's funeral she got was from her demon bodyguard. That family is awful. But I loved that moment - he was genuinely comforting her even though there was nothing in it for him; he's genuinely beginning to be drawn in. The whole thing with changing the color of her clothes so Madam Ju could find and visit her soul was just so genuinely lovely and kind.

And we end the ep on this and I flail like a drunk puppet. She needs a husband to inherit, so...The ep IS called "joining hands with the devil" but marriage involves joining other body parts so...

Perhaps she should find Li Susu and chat with her about how marrying the devil is a fraught enterprise.

The thing I want to know almost as much as watching the ship is WHAT is ml's background. I mean, that's kind of telling; this isn' the kind of drama to have fluffy backgrounds and backstories.

I mean, we get this from him:

And my "Angel's Last Mission" senses start tingling. I mean, let's face it, nobody in these stories becomes any kind of a supernatural entity after a happy and uneventful life.