#seriously THANK YOU so much for writing it!!!!

[jobean12-blog]

Birds of a Feather

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You have to attend a close relative's wedding and there's no one better to bring than your best friend, Bucky.

Author's Note: Seeing so much of happy Seb lately-and looking so good-made me want to write something sexy and fluffy so here we are. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet, tense and flirty, Bucky is the best in every way!

‘Come on up. Room 322.’

His thumbs hang limply over the phone screen, his brain going blank.

When he sent the text ten seconds earlier to let you know he’s arrived he figured you would meet him down in the lobby or at the hall.

Meeting you in the hotel room is a problem he anticipated when he gave himself a pep talk before leaving.

“She’s your best friend. Don’t do anything stupid…like go to the hotel room.”

His fingers finally start to move over the letters. ‘I can meet you down here…’

But maybe you need help with something?

He deletes the text, now typing, ‘is there anyone with you?,’ but that just sounds weird and possessive.

‘I can see you typing,’ you text. ‘Just come up. I need help.’

With a laugh, he deletes everything again and types simply, ‘be right there doll.’

His long legs carry him quickly to the elevator and when he presses the button for the third floor he takes a deep breath, his pulse climbing it’s way up his throat.

The door to your room is propped open with the dead bolt, but he knocks anyway.

“Come in Buck!”

Pushing it open just enough to peek his head in, he calls out, “I could be anyone, and you just invite me in without checking!”

“You just texted me you were coming up,” you sing from the bathroom, quickly continuing before he can say more, “and most of the people on his floor are friends or relatives here for the wedding.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you take your safety as seriously as I do,” he shouts back.

Your voice gets louder as you walk into the bedroom. “With you around I never have to worr…”

You stop for a breath when you see him, but your next words are lost to the blank void of his brain as he takes in your dress and how you look in it. To put it simply- stunning.

“Bucky?”

He startles, having no idea how long he’d been silent.

“Yeah doll…that’s…I’m here.”

When he finally drags his eyes to your face, you’re fighting a smile. “I asked if you could help me?”

“Oh, right. Sure. With what exactly?”

He cringes but steps closer.

“My dress?”

You turn around to show him the fabric at the back that hangs open, a tiny zipper dangling down at your lower back.

Trying to suppress a groan, but not being entirely successful he swallows hard. “That zipper looks very tiny.”

“It is,” you agree. “I realize I should have asked someone with smaller hands to help me out, but everyone is running around with their own nonsense so here we are.”

He approaches with a casual, “sure, of course doll.”

But then he does something without fully realizing it until the shiver runs along your back: he drags a knuckle down the curve of your spine.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder.

He just blinks and looks down to grab the zipper, mumbling about how small it is.

It’s quiet as he carefully pulls the zipper up and when he reaches the top he lets it fall and gently runs a finger along the top of the dress as he moves around to look at you.

“All set,” he whispers.

You smile and clear your throat before giving him an appreciative once over.

“You look hot.”

“Thanks doll. You…” and he struggles when his voice comes out a bit strangled, “you look breathtaking.”

You reach up and touch his bow tie, pulling at the neatly tied ends as you tell him, “I was hoping you’d arrive a flustered mess over how to tie this so I could do it for you.”

With a grin, he reaches up and tugs the end, untying it in a smooth pull.

“Figure you should do something in return after I battled that zipper,” he teases.

Still smiling, you take a hold of the tie, tugging it to align the ends evenly around his neck. “I didn’t get the impression it was such a hardship.”

His answering smirk is so telling you have to stifle a laugh.

“Are you feeling ready for this? I know these big events aren’t your favorite.”

“I’ll manage just fine doll, thanks. Besides, I’ve got the most beautiful date in the whole place.”

With your focus still on his bow tie he takes the opportunity to openly stare. When you smile at his sweet words he’s mesmerized by the way your soft lips part and his eyes stay glued to your mouth.

You look up to meet his gaze and he quickly lifts his eyes, a light pink sweeping across his cheeks.

You blink away and he looks down at your hands, noting the very little progress you’ve made.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Well…yes. I’m sure I can…”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“You might be right!,” you quip, “but I’m no quitter.”

He’d be happy to stand there all night.

You finally step back, surveying your work, and frown. “I’m going to be honest, not sure I made it look as good as you did.”

He looks down and undoes the mess and you glower as he handily fixies it.

“Wow, no need to gloat you butthead.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh, eyes crinkled, and nose scrunched, and you enjoy the sight before he explains, “I’ve done it a million times. I’m always the one in the tux when we go undercover.”

“That’s because you’re the one that looks the best.”

“Thanks doll,” he answers quietly.

“There are so many people here,” you whisper as you lead him through the crowd in the hall.

He let’s out a low whistle, nodding in agreement and aking in the décor.

You greet people as you walk, introducing Bucky to those that don’t already know him. Their eyes follow you, curiosity piqued in their expression as they wonder who he is to you.

You wonder the same. Your favorite person in the world. Your best friend…and so much more?

You take his elbow and guide him forward toward the outside set up where the ceremony will take place. On the way you find your grandmother and introduce him.

Since he can’t take his eyes off you he notices the subtle shift in your demeanor, the softening of your face and the adoration in your eyes.

He expects a gentle handshake but instead gets pulled in for a hug.

“Oh darling, isn’t he a sight,” you grandma says, patting Bucky’s cheek. “And you,” she says, turning her eyes your way. “Gorgeous.”

“Thanks grandma,” you beam.

A woman whizzes by, catching your eye and pointing to her watch.

“Looks like it’s time,” you announce.

Bucky holds out one arm for your grandma and the other for you.

“And a gentleman too,” your grandma gushes as she loops her arm through his. “Definitely a keeper.”

“You can keep grandma company,” you say as you approach the chairs.

“Of course, doll,” he says and leans in to kiss your cheek before helping your grandma into her seat.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony.” You gather your dress and turn to head back inside to meet the wedding party. “Miss me,” you call over your shoulder with a playful smile.

He stares as you walk away, quietly admitting, “I already do.”

Slight nerves take over when you hear the music start but the moment you walk out into the crowd your eyes zero in on Bucky. And what do you know? He’s looking right back at you…and he doesn’t take his eyes off you the whole ceremony.

After the ceremony it takes forever to work your way through the crowd to him, and in between catching up with friends and family or directing someone somewhere, you catch glimpses of him smiling and laughing with your grandma and happily keeping her company.

When you finally do reach him, your grandma has been safely escorted to her seat and now a woman hangs off his arm- Jessica. You know her, an old family friend, and you like her well enough, but you step up behind them right as she asks Bucky if she can steal him for the first dance, and your stomach drops.

You jerk to a stop. He hasn’t seen you. He should accept. You’ll hate it, but you’re not in any position to protest.

But then Bucky says only a gentle, “sorry, no can do. Tonight, I’ve only got one dance partner.”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, and you step closer, swallowing down the emotion.

“Hey you two!”

Bucky turns, extracting his arm from Jessica and setting a warm palm at your lower back.

“And here she is. My favorite dancing partner.”

Jessica leans around from his other side and says hello.

“Thanks for coming,” you tell her.

“Oh my god, of course. I wouldn’t miss it. And I was just meeting your friend, James, here.”

She emphasizes the word friend and at her usage of his real name you have to hold back a giggle.

“Isn’t he wonderful,” you hum, sliding your hand up his bicep. “He’s been keeping my grandmother company this whole time.”

She swoons and smiles at Bucky before turning back to you.

“He is. I just wasn’t expecting you to have a date. You’re usually always flying solo at these family events.”

You feel the smile slipping from your face and an uncomfortable laugh escapes.

The simple answer never comes to you, and you feel caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Actually, that’s only because I was away for work,” Bucky steps in smoothly. “I hate to miss any chance to be her date, but my schedule can be pretty demanding sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Jessica says. “Work is important of course.”

“Yeah,” he answers, “but not as important as her. So, from now I won’t be missing another event.”

Jessica’s face does a thing. It’s a barely restrained, ‘oh okay, I see.’

Bucky’s smile remains but it doesn’t look entirely natural anymore but when he looks at you, every emotion on his face is genuine.

“Ready to find our seats doll face,” he asks you.

“Sure,” you reply.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Jennifer. Enjoy the party.”

With a firm hand, he leads you away. You allow yourself to be guided up the grassy path and indoors to where a band plays. Bucky grabs you two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hands you one.

“That was swoony,” you tell him then take a sip.

“All I did was grab it from a tray doll. Time to raise your bar a bit.”

Laughing, you smack his beefy shoulder with your free hand. “Not that! The way you gently let Jennifer have it back there.”

He takes a sip, eyes on you. “She deserved worse, but I didn’t want to start trouble.”

With your brow raised you match his mischievous grin then you take his glass and set it down on one of the small tables, leading him to the dance floor.

He looks confused at first but when your hands slide up his chest and around his neck he circles his arms around your waist.

He relaxes against you, hands warm and strong on your lower back and you rest your cheek to his shoulder.

“You’re always so comfy.”

“Thank you.”

“And you always look out for me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, doll.”

“You’re my favorite person in the Universe.”

He doesn’t respond at first, not for five or ten or thirty seconds. You keep waiting for the feeling of rejection in his silence but instead it feels like an agreement and finally his words confirm it.

“Mine too, doll.”

Your quiet slow dance is the last moment alone you have for the next few hours because what follows is a whirlwind of a reception.

And the whole time he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Think I’m ready to get out of here,” you say as you slump against his side.

He carefully holds you up as he stands and reaches to take your hand.

“Come on doll face. I’ll take you home.”

When you reach your apartment door your feet are aching, and your legs are tired. You retrieve your key from the hidden pocket in your small purse and slide it into the doorknob.

“I’m going to need you to unzip me,” you say, gesturing casually to your dress.

His silence makes you slowly turn around to face him and when you meet his eyes they’re heavy with heat and desire.

“Bucky?”

“Turn back around,” he says gruffly.

You do as your told and feel his exhaled puff of air against your bare shoulder before he takes your wrists in this hands and places your palms flat against the door. His metal fingers slide down one arm then trace the curve of your shoulder, while his other toys with the small zipper.

He starts to pull it down, so slowly, you feel every brush of his skin against yours and it sends a tremble across your body. For every new inch of your skin that he exposes his breath quickens. You can feel the heat of him so close and your fingers press into the hard wood of the door.

Once the fabric hangs loosely at the sides he stops and slips his hands inside to your waist and turns you back to face him.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I…”

You drag your fingers along his temple and down his jaw. Your finger falls to his bottom lip, tracing it’s outline.

You can see it in his eyes, the understanding that everything between you is easy and you don’t have to try. It’s too good.

Your gaze drops to his lips again and your mouth goes soft. “Kiss me Bucky.”

The words are just barely out of your mouth and he’s already leaning in, lips on yours, warm and urgent, his hands rising to cup your face. Your instincts send tight, possessive fists to the lapels of his jacket and you melt completely into the domination and tenderness in his touch.

With a quiet groan he tilts his head, deepening the contact into a decadent slide, sending a hungry hand down your body once again and grabbing your ass to press all your softness against the hard planes of his body.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, drags slowly away, and you chase the contact, but he stops you, pressing his thumb over your lips.

He stares for what feels like forever, then kisses you again, lingering before he murmurs, “you’re so beautiful,” into the sensitive skin below your ear, and then repeats it quietly into your neck.

“Are you going to stay the night?” you ask breathless.

“If you’ll have m…”

“Yes. Yes Bucky.”

[wtfaniii]

Hi! I bring you this final part! Thank you for your support, readings and love.🤎

N/A: I have pending orders and I hope to complete them as soon as possible. I will upload one of them this afternoon. Thanks for your support!!

PAPARAZZI

Hwang In-ho x reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warning: Blood, violence, kidnapping and some romance, I was listening to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance while writing this, sorry not sorry

Note: This would be the last part, if were to resume it I would do so when the third season comes out, thank you for your love!

The plan to escape through the ventilation ducts would be carried out that night, after playing the third game.

"Players, the third game is about to begin, everyone is asked to wake up and prepare" the female robotic voice spoke from the speaker.

The girl smiled as she saw that the piece of metal had in his hands had finally taken the shape that would be quite useful to her.

—I did it... —Her murmur with a radiant smile.

—¿You did what? —001 asked, approaching her with curiosity, as if he hadn't heard anything of the conversation she had with 388 during the night.

—The key to get out of here —She said proudly, showing off the piece of metal.

In-ho put on a confused expression, but deep down he was more than fascinated and intrigued, as well as anxious for night to come and for her to execute the "escape."

—Trust me, we will get out of here.

He gave her a silent smile.

As they left the room to be taken to the next game, In-ho stayed behind to talk to one of the guards with the triangle symbol. —455 will try to escape tonight through the ventilation ducts, keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't, then she'll be taken out of the game, ¿understood?

—Yes sir —replied, giving a brief reference, then he left to catch up with the group.

The next game would be called "mingle" and it was for groups.

The game consisted of grouping up every time the robotic voice said the number of players that had to get together and take one of the small rooms that were scattered around the place, the platform would spin before this so you are probably a little dizzy.

—If the number is more than six, we'll take the other players —Gi-hun said.

—¿What if the number is less than six? —Dae-ho asked with some uncertainty.

—We're split up, but we mustn't lose our patience— Young-il said seriously. —You two try not to get away from us —added looking at Jun-hee and the girl, who both nodded.

When the platform began to spin and the children's song started to play, the tension in the atmosphere was present, once again the girl was afraid of dying so inevitably her hands trembled, In-ho noticed this and without thinking much he took one of her hands with his.

—Trust me, we'll get out of here —He repeated the same words she had told him, making her smile.

The first stop was ten, that was easy, they met up with another group of four with players 120, 007, 149 and 097

The second was four, In-ho never let go of the girl's hand. —You four go, we two will look for others —He stated confidently.

She felt pretty safe with him so she didn't refuse, once again it was easy to find another partner and get to a room on time.

The third was three participants per room, once again it was simple, the girl was Gi-hun and Young-il but when they were dividing she was knocked down by another player.

In-ho opened his eyes searching for her in the crowd as Gi-hun called out to her but seeing that the timer was about to end they had no choice but to run and carry player 149 who was standing alone in the middle of all the chaos.

Meanwhile, the girl was stunned, looking for someone to go with to save her life when suddenly someone arrived and practically pulled her by the arm with brute force straight into a room. When the timer came to an end, she saw both players.

—Thank you very much.

Player 333 nodded, taking deep breaths.

She would remember him number, he had practically saved her life and she would make sure to do the same once she managed to get out of there for help.

Coming out of the cubicles, the first thing In-ho did was look for her with his eyes and when he saw her coming towards them, a sigh of relief left his lips, a reaction he never thought would have in a long time.

It felt strange to feel the anguish of another person's life again, especially that of a girl he knew as well as the back of his hand but hadn't spent enough time with, it was as if she had gotten into his head and heart without him realizing it.

When least expected it, he was already hugging her.

—Sorry for letting go of your hand.

—I'm fine... —The girl sighed, gladly receiving the gesture —He saved me —She added turning to see 333 who was a short distance away, watching them in silence.

He didn't care who had done it, he was just grateful that she was still there, although his triangle team had orders not to kill her, it was impossible to deny the immense concern he felt.

Finally, teams of two had to be formed, the participants fought to survive and this time, In-ho made sure not to lose the girl at his side.

In-ho grabbed a man who was about to enter the empty cubicle and pushed him back, allowing her to pass through, but she froze when she saw another player there.

—Get out —Young-il demanded firmly, staring at the man.

But seeing that the player refused, he rushed towards him, the girl stayed at the door preventing anyone else from entering.

When the timer was coming to an end, the only sound of a 'crack' reached the young woman's ears, she turned around in fear, but when she saw Young-il alive sighed and dropped to the ground tiredly.

She didn't judge him, her knew that humans naturally attacked when felt in danger.

[...]

The third vote had concluded, the circles and crosses had been tied so the elections would be repeated the following day.

But she couldn't bear another day, these games changed people, she saw it in Young-il and her didn't want someone good to get his hands dirty like that again.

Or at least that was the image she had of the man.

She couldn't stop watching him intently as chatted with Gi-hun, he was a gentleman, kind and sociable man but seeing him in that cubicle killing a man by breaking his neck in one move to save them both made her heart beat like never before.

She was fascinated by riddles and had a hunch that this man was one that needed to be solved. She didn't know, but her intuition told that Young-il was a poker face.

But for now, her needed to execute his plan.

She got up from where was and walked to the bathroom, there were only a couple of hours left until nightfall and she didn't want to walk around that island in the dark.

—Oh no, she's going to do it —Dae-ho muttered nervously as he watched her walk away.

—¿What is she going to do? —Gi-hun asked.

—Will try to escape and go for help.

The group looked at her with concern as she entered the bathroom and the two guards continued to guard the entrance.

She walked over to the toilet, pulled down the lid and stood on it to reach where the vent was, using the deformed piece of metal to remove the screws.

A proud smile formed on her lips as she was able to remove the lid and push herself up with his feet to begin climbing through the duct. ¿Could this be a dream? Judging by the fresh air she perceived in his nose these ducts would lead her to an exit to the outside.

But before she could declare victory and move forward faster, she felt two hands grab her by the ankles and pull back, back to his nightmare.

—¡No! ¡Please no! —She screamed, digging her nails into the metal of the duct as if that would stop, but she only managed to hurt own fingers a little.

When the guard with the triangle mask had her in hin arms and held tightly, she hit him in the stomach with his elbow to free herself.

She ran to the bathroom door to get out of there but as soon as touched the handle she was shot in the leg causing to fall and scream in pain.

Her scream mixed with the gunshot caught the attention of the players outside, it caught In-ho's attention, they weren't supposed to shoot her.

Meanwhile inside the bathroom she was bleeding and crying in pain and fear, she believed that this was end but another guard entered the bathroom and stuck a needle in her neck forcing her to fall into the subconscious.

"Player 455, eliminated" said the robotic voice over the speaker, leaving her fellow players bewildered and sad.

Gi-hun stood up and walked towards the guard guarding the bathroom and shouted angrily, followed by In-ho.

—¿What did you do to her? She wasn't playing! ¡You killed her!

The triangle raised his gun and pointed it at him to get to back off.

—She tried to escape and that will not be tolerated.

—¡That's not fair! You're only eliminated if you lose one of these games —Young-il yelled at them, putting on a little drama show just enough for the guards to get him out of there too so could see the girl.

When the doors opened and more guards entered carrying a black box with a huge pink bow through the door In-ho paled, he had given a specific order, it was just to take her out of the games, not kill her.

—¡You killed her! —he shouted at them this time a little more excitedly as watched the triangles take the girl out of the bathroom and place her in the box to later close it —¡These weren't the rules! ¡I demand to see your leader!

The guard nodded and asked him to follow him, once out of sight of the other players In-ho glared at his worker waiting for an explanation.

—She's alive, just sedated, we thought this was the best way to get her out without raising suspicion.

The feeling he had a few moments ago was like torture but also a small flash in his dark heart, after so long he had not felt such a whirlwind of emotions since his wife.

[...]

In him golden room, in the middle of the bed, the girl rested, with a bandage on her leg and wearing more comfortable clothes, a white blouse and grey pants.

The front man walked through the door and sighed at the sight of her there, leaving the gun he had used against the guard who dared to shoot her disobeying his orders on the table by the entrance and walking cautiously towards her.

He knew was breaking the rules by taking her out of there but he couldn't let her die, she had made him feel so many things again in such a short time that it was terrifying to a certain extent.

With his hand he moved a couple of strands of hair away from her face.

The girl gently opened her eyes and seeing a masked stranger near her, she tensed up because was still a little dazed to react otherwise.

—Calm down —he said under the mask with the voice modifier —I won't hurt you, we already fixed your wound and you'll be fully conscious in a few hours.

—You... you are... the front man... —She said trying to clear her mind and focus his vision.

—¿How much do you know about me? —He asked curiously, sitting on the edge of the bed without stopping to observe her under the mask.

—I know as much about you as you know about me... —She smiled at him with a hint of arrogance —You sent your employees to follow me for a while... They're not as stealthy as you thought.

He smiled under the mask, he knew for sure that she was intelligent, she was extremely afraid of death but had strategies and a brain to know when being stalked.

—¿Do you want to take off your mask?... I want to know if right about something.

—¿About what?

—You’re Young-il —that took him by surprise —¿Or should I say In-ho? You’re a man of many riddles.

He took off the mask, not just physically, he was also going to let her enter his soul.

—¿Since when did you find out?

—Oh not as quickly as I would have liked, I figured it out now that you sat up in bed.

From him posture, carefree and passive, and the way he stroked her hair, she deduced that he was someone who had already had contact with her.

Moreover, she had read a long history about the front man, the man in front of her was more than just that, more than just a cold-blooded assassin and leader who controlled these games, he was now showing his more "Young-il" side.

—¿Like Sherlock Holmes? —In-ho asked, half amused and half curious.

—That's my job... —She sighed tiredly, closing her eyes again.

They both knew they had many things to talk about and clarify but now was not the time, she longed for some peace and rest and he had to return to the games or he would raise suspicions.

They had a pending conversation but first, In-ho had to put an end to all this and put everything back in its respective place, after all, the girl was no longer in the crossfire, with her safely in him room, it was time to act.

N/A: This is the last part! Maybe I'll pick it up again when the third season comes out, I wanted to do something like Joe and Love only without the killer and crazy stuff.

Tag List:

@carrotjuicepdf @sxmmerchxldblog @syraxnyra @deathsmellzz @starkeyszn @deftonianfr @djloveyou3000 @lowkeyhottho @shadow-tumbler

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ִֶָ mullet!stan pines x farmer's daughter!reader ♡༉‧₊˚.

honestly idk what happened i just wrote this in like 40 minutes because the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, i never write this fast sorry for the random but i love that dynamic 🤍

Gravity Falls market days were a real mess you’d grown up in but never quite adjusted to. the sun sat high and too mean, slanting golden light across the rows of wooden stalls and voices carried sharp over the sound of shuffling feet. you didn’t mind the noise because it made the hours feel faster.

your hands worked quickly, sorting the last of the peaches into the old wicker basket, as you clearly remembered your mom’s words “don’t bruise the fruit, honey; folks don’t buy what looks spoiled.” you smoothed your palm over the fabric of your overalls, standing up straight to greet the next customer and—

he wasn’t what you expected and you weren’t sure what to make of him. broad shoulders under a faded red jacket, hands stuffed into his pockets, huge dark bags under his eyes. he looked rough, unpolished you'd say, like he’d stepped out of a life far removed from your quiet one and found himself here by accident.

he nodded toward your baskets. “how much for the peaches?”

you sized him up. “depends,” you answered. “you actually gonna pay?”

that caught him off guard, did he really look that bad? his lips twitched into grin. “didn’t know this place came with an interrogation.”

“it’s not interrogation,” you shot back, leaning against the edge of the stall. “it’s just business. besides, you look like the type to run off with free samples.”

he laughed then. “well, guess you caught me,” he held his hands up like he’d been caught red-handed. “but im starving here. what’s it gonna take to get one of—”

“ahh, you must be the scientist everyone talks about.” you interrupted him, shifting the basket awkwardly against your hip.

“uh right, that's me.”

“mom mentioned you,” you continued, even though he didn't seem in the mood for conversation. “said you were. . . weird.” the word came out of your mouth before you even realized it, and your cheeks instantly flushed. great. off to a fantastic start.

but he didn't seem offended. on the contrary, he looked amused, slightly raising his eyebrows. “weird, huh?”

“her words, not mine,” you explained quickly, though it wasn't exactly untrue. “but yeah. she said you moved out here to study something? bugs? dirt?”

he chuckled. “somethin’ like that. but im pretty hungry. so what’s it gonna take to get one of those?”

you should’ve turned him away, told him to come back with cash like everyone else. but your gut told you he’d actually gone a little too long without a decent meal. yeah, thats how bad he looked.

so you reached into the basket and handed him one.

“on the house,” you said.

he blinked at you, caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion. “seriously?”

“just this once,” you warned. “but if you come back, i expect full price.”

“aww, isn't that adorable, thank you, sweetie.” he took the peach, turning it over in his hands. “heard people here mentioning you're generous girl.”

...

the sun begins its descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink as you ride your bicycle down the lonely country road. the day has been long, filled with selling farm food. your hat shields your face from the fading light, but a chill is settling in as the evening approaches.

the basket on your bike rattled with what was left of the day’s haul, less than you’d hoped for but enough to keep the house running another week. your legs ached from pedaling though. the cold was creeping in now.

when the headlights appeared behind you, cutting through the soft twilight, you almost didn’t notice. but then the car slowed, pulling up beside you and you heard the window roll down.

“need a lift?” a smoky voice asked.

it was him. Stanford. the same red jacket, the same grin. he surely hadn’t been expecting to see you but was damn happy about it anyway.

you hesitated as you looked at him and his car, tightening your hands around the handlebars. “and leave my bike?”

“throw it in the back,” he told you, jerking his thumb toward the back seat. “unless you’re real set on freezing out here.”

you glanced at the empty road stretching ahead of you, then back at Stanford. he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to offer something for nothing, but he also didn’t seem like the kind to push it if you said no.

so you nodded. Stanley gave you a reassuring smile. “hop in, toots. it's getting cold.” you let him haul the bike into the back before climbing into the passenger seat. the warmth from inside is immediate, a stark contrast to the cool evening air.

he didn’t say much at first, just flicked on the radio and kept his eyes on the road. but then, without looking over, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you.

“here, take this. it’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm.”

you took the fabric and when you putted it around your shoulders, you felt the softness of it against your skin, grateful for the gesture. “thank you,” it was too big, the sleeves hanging loose past your wrists, but it was so warm. although it smelled very strongly of cigarettes.

he shrugged modestly. “no problem. it’s the least i can do after the way you treated me last week.”

“so,” he said after a beat, glancing over with that same crooked grin. “what’s a farmer’s daughter doin’ out on the road this late?”

you pulled the jacket tighter around you. “work doesn’t stop just ‘cause the sun goes down.”

“hard worker, huh? guess your mom was right about you.”

you glanced at him in surprise and furrowed your brow. “you keep bringing up my mom like you actually know her.” you said suspiciously.

“ran into her a couple weeks ago,” he admitted. “she was real proud, talkin’ ‘bout how her daughter’s the backbone of the farm.”

heat rose to your cheeks and you turned your gaze back to the road. “she talks too much.”

“nah, she’s just proud of you.” this time, you stayed quiet, letting the hum of the engine carry you the rest of the way home.

...

the next time you see him, it’s at the farm on early morning, when dew still clings to the grass and the sky’s a pale, watercolor wash. you’d barely had time to start on your chores when that same old car rumbled down the dirt track.

Stanley stepped out, wearing that red jacket you’d given back last night, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “you forgot your bike.”

“you didn’t have to bring it all the way here.” you smiled shyly

“well,” he glanced around, assessing the place, “figured you could use it more than i could. besides, wasn’t much of a detour.”

in addition, it was the first time Stan met your dog as he stayed at the farm to try the freshly baked apple pie that you offered.

you were hauling a basket of fresh vegetables from the field when you heard a low, warning growl. you looked up, biting back a grin. “she won’t bite.”

“uh-huh,” Stan said, standing frozen in place as the big scruffy mutt circled him.

you set the basket down, whistling low, and your dog trotted over, tail wagging now that you’d given the all-clear. “this is Molly,” you said, ruffling her ears. “dont worry, she’s just protective.”

Stan crouched slowly, one knee to the dirt, sticking his hand out like he was afraid she might lunge. Molly sniffed him once, then pressed her head against his palm, tail thumping in approval.

“well, look at that,” he said, scratching behind her ears. his hands are so big, calloused, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. Molly leaned into his hand, letting out a pleased huff. “she likes me.”

but then Molly rolled over, flopping onto her back in the dust and he laughed. “spoiled,” he said, rubbing her belly as she wagged her tail.

“you don’t even know the half of it. she gets the best scraps off the table. mom says it’s why she’s got such shiny fur.”

Stan grinned. “lucky dog.” oh, how he wished he could be in Molly's shoes. to be needed at least by someone, to be taken care of, to be fed. “so, you sellin’ this week?”

you nodded, but your gaze drifted toward the fields. there was still so much work left to do, rows and rows of crops waiting to be picked and sorted. you sighed, already feeling the ache in your arms.

Stan seemed to catch on. “well, if you’re ever lookin’ for extra hands, i know a guy who owes you a couple favors.”

...

you don’t know why you start bringing him food. it’s not like Stanley asked for it and he’s certainly not the kind of man who’d admit if he needed it. but you, the sweetest girl in town, noticed how he looked that first day at the market, hunger written all over him like and that makes it impossible not to.

it started with a couple of peaches tucked into a paper bag which you carefully left on the counter of the Mystery Shack with a quick, “thought you might want something fresh.” but then it grew into a jar of honey. then. . . in a bundle of wildflowers tied with twine.

one day, you showed up with a loaf of bread so fresh it was still warm, wrapped in an old tea towel embroidered with little sunflowers. Stanley was tinkering with something behind the counter, muttering something about journals but when he saw you, he stopped, wiping his hands on his pants.

“you know, you don’t have to keep bringing me this stuff,” he said even as he took the loaf from your hands.

“i know, yeah, but you’re always here, and I figured. . . well, everyone deserves a decent meal now and then.” he looked at you for a long moment, longer than felt normal, trying to figure out if you were pulling some kind of trick.

“thanks,” he said your name. “that means a lot.”

and it becomes a thing, fresh eggs one day, a loaf of bread the next. you don’t stay long when you drop them off, because Stanford always says he's kinda busy here, dealing with some of his "scientific research”, so you quickly greet him, maybe say some comment about the weather, but every damn time he sees you, his face softens, genuine smile appearing on it, his shoulders relax too. maybe you’re not just bringing food but something else he’s been missing.

and sometimes, Stanley feels too lonely, so he pulls out an old chair and offers you coffee, the two of you sitting on the porch while he tells you about his life.

[magnagaruzenmon]

Tomboy is the name of a song right?

Uh oh does Dino have a crush? Does my writing partner have a big crush? In all seriousness this was really cute. Okay Dino you’re kinda on a roll I’ll admit. Give a big thanks to @moonluvrrsworld for the idea

You wouldn’t call your marriage to Sohyun “arranged” per se, but it was definitely “encouraged.” You’d known each other your whole life, growing up as neighbors and later as classmates. Sohyun had always been more of a best friend than anything else, the type of person who’d sit with you on the roof of her house, sharing snacks while talking about the wild ideas of escaping to some far-off place. She kept her hair short, dressed simply, and carried herself with a straightforwardness that made her seem more like an equal than someone you’d ever imagine dating—let alone marrying.

So, when your parents sat you down for “the talk” and floated the idea, you didn’t know how to process it. It felt absurd, even laughable. But somehow, it all happened—her parents agreeing, your families eagerly planning, and then the proposal. You’ll never forget how she answered, her expression calm as ever, a hint of amusement in her eyes:

“Well, if it makes everyone happy, sure.”

It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it wasn’t a rejection either. You still don’t know why she agreed—whether out of obligation, curiosity, or something else entirely. The wedding was a small affair something both of you demanded of the other, making it seem more like an elopement than a grand ceremony and declaring of love for one another to hammer this home both of you wore suits to the affair. It bothered your parents but you wanted Sohyun to be comfortable and happy, and that’s what made her comfortable and happy.

The first year of married life wasn’t what you’d call a whirlwind romance. It was… practical. Strangely, the challenges weren’t about you two as a couple. You didn’t fight over finances or argue over big-ticket issues like religion, politics, or even how to raise hypothetical kids. On the contrary, you two fell into an easy rhythm, dividing chores, coordinating schedules, and sharing meals without much fuss. Your talent for domestic life had you spearheading a lot of the cooking and cleaning while she made up for it in other ways. She lets you enjoy your hobbies and passion rather freely. You guys worked well together and complimented each other surprisingly well, so much so that your friends who saw your life at home were often jealous of how well the two of you clicked in each other’s lives.

No, the real problems came from the outside. Sorting out the paperwork for name changes and passports was a bureaucratic nightmare, the kind of thing no one warns you about. That’s why your honeymoon plans fell through—months after the wedding, you were still stuck in government offices, navigating endless forms and regulations. Then there were the awkward conversations with friends who couldn’t wrap their heads around your marriage, some of them outright questioning if it was even real. “So… are you guys actually in love, or is this like… a thing your families did?” they’d ask, their voices dripping with skepticism.

Through it all, Sohyun stayed steady. She had a way of brushing off the chaos with her bright, easy smile, grounding you whenever things got overwhelming. You’d wake up to that smile every morning, her hair slightly mussed, her voice soft as she greeted you. It was comforting, more than you ever realized you needed.

But lately, you’ve noticed something different about her. Subtle changes in her demeanor, like the way she lingers when you’re talking, her gaze warmer, more searching. She’s started wearing her hair longer, experimenting with little touches of makeup, and choosing outfits that feel just a bit more… deliberate. There’s an unspoken tension, an energy that wasn’t there before, as though she’s navigating unfamiliar territory within herself—and with you.

It’s nothing dramatic, but it’s enough to make you wonder. Was this marriage truly just an arrangement to her, or is she beginning to see you differently too?

When you asked about her hair all she could really say was, “Oh it was time for a change, yadda yadda. Bla bla bla,” you took it in stride but then the next change was a bit more noticeable. Dresses and more feminine patterns in her clothes started cropping up. Baggy t-shirts became billowing blouses with brazen blazers that complimented the figure you knew she had but never really paid mind to. Again when most of your previous conversation revolved around the literary merits of Orwell or Twain you never considered the body beneath the brain, but now you were and she had a marvelous figure.

The next major thing you noticed was when the two of you were discussing honeymoon locales and she suggested Argentina you were surprised.

“Sohyun you hate the heat and it's like 28C there right now,” you say.

Her response was again “I just wanted to change things up a bit. It's been super gloomy and I wanna explore a new place that's not as cold,”

You glance over at Sohyun as the plane levels out, the cabin lights dimming to a soft, ambient glow. She’s flipping through the in-flight magazine, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her hair, now long enough to frame her face, catches the light from the small reading lamp, giving her an almost ethereal glow.

“You know,” you say, stretching your legs under the cramped seat, “this might be the first time I’ve seen you look genuinely excited about a trip.”

Sohyun tilts her head, smirking. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always excited about trips.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, sure. Like that time we went camping, and you spent three hours arguing with a squirrel over your trail mix?”

“That squirrel started it,” she says, deadpan, but her smile widens. She nudges your arm with her elbow, her tone dropping into something teasing. “Besides, you’re the one who packed gourmet cheese for a hike. Who does that?”

“Someone who has taste,” you counter, leaning slightly closer. “Not that you’d know much about that, considering you still put ketchup on your eggs.”

Her mock gasp is loud enough to turn a few heads. “Excuse me, Mr. High Standards. If you weren't my husband, I’d have you escorted off this plane for such slander.”

“Well, good thing you are,” you shoot back, “because you’d miss me too much otherwise.”

The playful banter hangs in the air for a moment before Sohyun bursts into laughter, a sound that’s rich and unguarded. You’ve heard her laugh a thousand times before—on rooftops, in late-night study sessions, over inside jokes—but now it’s different. The husky warmth of it wraps around you, sinking deep into your chest. It feels like home and adventure all at once, and you find yourself leaning into it without even realizing it.

“You’re so full of yourself,” she says, shaking her head but still smiling.

“Comes with the territory,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

But it’s hard to play it cool when her voice follows—low, velvety, teasing. There’s something about it that catches you off guard every time, like the first note of your favorite song. Lately, it’s been happening more often: the way her words linger in your mind long after she’s spoken, the way her laugh stays with you like a melody you can’t shake.

Sohyun folds the magazine and tucks it into the seat pocket, turning fully toward you now. Her gaze is steady but softer than you’re used to, and it catches you off guard. “You know,” she says, her voice quieter but no less playful, “I think this is the first trip we’ve taken where we actually feel like a couple. Not roommates, not friends, but… a couple.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in her tone. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A good thing,” she says immediately, her smile turning into something warmer, almost shy. “A very good thing.”

The flight attendant interrupts the moment, offering drinks and snacks, and Sohyun orders a glass of white wine. You follow suit, and when the glasses arrive, she holds hers up in a small toast.

“To new places,” she says, clinking her glass against yours.

“And new beginnings,” you add, meeting her gaze.

She takes a sip, then smirks over the rim of her glass. “You’re getting better at this whole romance thing, you know.”

“I learn from the best,” you reply, and for once, you mean it entirely.

She laughs again, that bright, husky sound pulling you in like a tide. It’s something you never thought much about before, but now you can’t get enough of it. The sound, the way her lips curl just slightly at the edges—it’s all starting to feel dangerously enchanting.

As the plane hums steadily toward Argentina, the conversation drifts back to familiar banter, but the undertone of something more lingers. For the first time, you’re not just comfortable—you’re captivated. This feels like the start of something neither of you saw coming, but both of you are ready for.

After a long flight and a quick check-in at the resort, exhaustion overtakes both of you. The room is cozy and bright, with a balcony that offers a sweeping view of the ocean. You barely have time to take it all in before you crash onto the bed, the travel fatigue winning out.

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of waves crashing faintly in the distance and the soft rustle of movement nearby. You blink a few times, the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, and sit up groggily. That’s when you see her.

Sohyun stands near the sliding doors to the balcony, adjusting the strap of a two-piece bathing suit—a pale lavender color that complements her complexion perfectly. For a moment, you think you’re still dreaming. Your brain struggles to reconcile this image with the Sohyun you’ve always known: the one who usually opted for modest one-piece swimsuits or an oversized T-shirt and trunks when the two of you swam together.

“Holy fuck,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

She turns, startled at first, then breaks into that familiar, warm smile of hers. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, and the sunlight streaming in from behind her gives her an almost radiant glow. But it’s her figure that truly has your attention—something you’d always known was there but had never really noticed until now. It’s not just the bathing suit; it’s the confidence she carries, the way she holds herself.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Sohyun asks, her voice calm, like she hasn’t just completely turned your world upside down.

You clear your throat, feeling the heat rise to your face. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you in something so bold.”

Her smile widens, and she steps closer, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. “Do you like it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, her tone teasing but curious.

You nod, but words fail you for a moment. A thousand thoughts race through your mind, most of them not entirely innocent. You’d never thought of her this way before—not quite like this. She’s always been beautiful, yes, but this is different. It’s as though seeing her like this has unlocked something in you, a wave of emotions you weren’t prepared for.

“I—uh—yeah,” you manage, your voice cracking slightly. “You look amazing.”

She laughs, a low, husky sound that pulls at something deep inside you. “Well, thank you. I figured since we’re on vacation, I’d try something new.”

“It suits you,” you say quickly, your eyes flicking away briefly, but they find their way back to her almost immediately.

Sohyun steps closer again, now standing right in front of you. She places a hand on your shoulder, her touch light but grounding. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen me before,” she teases, her eyes twinkling.

“I feel like I haven’t,” you admit softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She blinks at you, surprised by your candor, but her expression softens. “Well,” she says, her voice dropping just slightly, “I’m glad I could surprise you.”

There’s a pause, charged with something new and electric. She doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. For the first time, you’re not just looking at Sohyun—you’re seeing her, really seeing her.

Before the moment can stretch too far, she steps back with a playful grin. “Come on, get changed,” she says, her tone light again. “The beach isn’t going to wait forever.”

As she walks away, you watch her go, your mind still swirling with everything you’ve just realized. You’ve always known Sohyun was your best friend, your partner, the person you trusted most in the world. But now, she’s something more, something you’re just beginning to understand.

You take a deep breath, standing to find your swim trunks. Whatever this vacation holds, you have a feeling it’s going to change things—for the better. As you get changed you notice that you have a rock-hard erection and part of you feels shame. Here you are what’s supposed to be a trip with your wife and your body is festering this itch inside of you. Granted it’s been hard for the two of you to get alone time together because of the amount of work that plagued the two of you in the first year of your marriage so you couldn’t really properly release but still this was a lovey-dovey trip no time for impure indecent thoughts. Sohyun was better than that you were better than that… you hoped.

The sun is high by the time you step onto the beach, the golden sand warm beneath your feet. The breeze carries the scent of saltwater and the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Sohyun walks ahead of you, her lavender bathing suit catching the sunlight in a way that makes her seem almost otherworldly.

She turns back, shielding her eyes with one hand. “You’re so slow,” she teases, her voice laced with playful impatience. “I thought you were the athletic one.”

“Just taking it all in,” you reply, though you’re pretty sure you’re not talking about the scenery.

Sohyun rolls her eyes but smiles, her steps light and carefree as she leads you toward a quieter spot near the water. When she sets down her beach bag, she stretches her arms above her head, and you catch yourself staring at the curve of her waist, the way the movement emphasizes her figure.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. This is Sohyun—your best friend, your wife. The person who once dared you to eat an entire raw onion on a bet. The same person who fell asleep on your shoulder during countless movie nights. But now, as she pulls her hair into a loose ponytail and settles onto the towel, she feels like someone entirely new.

She glances up at you, catching you mid-thought. “Why are you just standing there?” she asks, patting the spot beside her.

You sit down, the sand warm beneath you, and she leans back on her elbows, her face turned toward the ocean. There’s something so effortless about her, like she belongs here under the sun, surrounded by beauty.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about running away to the beach when we were kids?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with a certain wistfulness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think your plan involved us becoming pirates or something equally ridiculous.”

She laughs, the sound low and husky, and it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “It wasn’t ridiculous. I’d make an excellent pirate.”

You can’t help but grin. “You’re too nice to be a pirate. You’d probably end up apologizing to everyone you robbed.”

“Maybe,” she says, turning to look at you. Her smile lingers, but her eyes hold a warmth that makes your heart stutter. “But you’d make a good first mate. You’ve always had my back, after all.”

The weight of her words settles between you, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, the sound of the waves filling the space. Then, Sohyun shifts closer, her shoulder brushing against yours.

“Can you put some sunscreen on my back?” she asks, holding out the bottle.

“Uh, sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens.

She turns, pulling her ponytail to the side, and you carefully apply the sunscreen, your hands moving over her skin. It’s nothing you haven’t done before, but it feels different now. You’re hyper-aware of the softness of her skin, the way her muscles move slightly under your touch.

“Thanks,” she says, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that feels just a little too knowing.

When she turns back around, she props herself up on her elbows again, her expression light but teasing. “You’re staring again,” she says, a playful lilt in her voice.

“I’m not staring,” you protest, though you know it’s a lie.

“You are,” she insists, her grin widening. “It’s okay, though. I don’t mind.”

Her boldness catches you off guard, and you’re not sure how to respond. Sohyun has always been confident, but this—this playful, flirtatious side—is new. And it’s doing things to you that you’re not entirely prepared for.

She leans closer, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You know, you’re allowed to compliment your wife. It’s kind of expected, actually.”

“You’re beautiful,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, you think you’ve overstepped. But then her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip, her smile turning shy in a way that’s both endearing and completely captivating.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice softer now.

As the day goes on, she continues to surprise you. The way she walks along the shoreline, letting the waves lap at her feet, her laughter ringing out when she splashes water at you. The way she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, her smile both teasing and tender.

By the time the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you realize something has shifted. The image of Sohyun you’ve carried for so long—your best friend, your partner in crime—has started to transform. Now, you see her not just as your wife in name, but as someone who could truly hold your heart.

And the most surprising part? You’re starting to hope she feels the same way.

The two of you get back to your shared room. Sohyun says, “I’m gonna shower first unless you want to join me,” before enticingly wiggling her cute butt in front of you. At that point, the itch becomes overwhelming as you approach her. She smiles knowingly as you take your cock out. Sohyun’s eyes widened

“Oh I knew you had a nice cock but this was perfect for me,”

You look at her in. A lust-fueled haze, and she says, “Are you gonna fuck me because I really need it.”

Barely able to hold it in you plunged your cock inside of Sohyun.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of each other’s sexes you both cum violently as you bottom out

Sohyun screams as she squirts everywhere and her walls milk you rapaciously. Your dick wildly fills her womb with your seed as the two of you revel in orgasmic bliss.

“Fuck why haven’t we done that before?”

Feeling a bit flustered you respond, “Because I only thought we were friends, I didn’t even know you had this,” you spank her tight ass, and Sohyun moans erotically making you hard again, “or these,” you add massaging her voluptuous breasts. You begin ramming into her tight cavern again as she moans.

“Fuck if I knew you'd feel this good I'd have seduced you years ago,” Sohyun says as her eyes roll into the back of her head. She moans as her pussy sucks you in further.

“Fuck please fuck me harder,” she pleads as your rail her. Her walls tighten around your manhood as you watch her supple ass bounce and ripple with each thrust. Sohyun moans your name continuously as she takes you, and you take her.

“Ahh uhh,” she stammers and moans as you fuck her. Both of you are so far gone in lust that words could barely be found in the pleasure young two get from each other. As you pull her up from her bent position by her long hair something in you awakened as your wife came around your cock again.

With your other hand, you grab one of her breasts and massage the soft flesh. Sohyun moans as she's sent into another orgasm. She squirts all over you again.

You give her a bit of time to recover from her high as you remain buried in her cunt. She smiles as she's filled to the brim with you. She turns around and says, “Am I yours,”!you nod and say

“Of course,”

She smirks and says, “Good you're gonna fuck me every night from now on because I can't go back to masturbating alone especially when you have this nice a cock,”

With the image of your wife changed into this sultry vixen you asked what caused her to become this. She smiles lustfully and answers,

“Ive always been this, but you make me feel safe and comfortable being Sohyun the bro but also as Sohyun you're sexy wife. Being married to you has been a dream and I just wanted to show more of who I was to you,”

You smile as you kiss her. She smiles as she leads you to the bed and she gently pushes you down on it.

“I'm gonna ride you now,” she says emphatically. You groan as she hastily grinds on your crotch. You watch as her breasts bounce beautifully and she smiles at you. Instinctively you buck your hips but she stops you, “no no no. I'm in control. I control the tempo. I control the rhythm and I control when you cum.” she says sternly as she rolls and deliciously dances her hips over yours. She is unbearable tight as the pleasure melts your brain to where all you can think about is her.

You barely last a few minutes of this before you cum inside her again. Sohyun moans as you both come down from your shared highs before the two of them pass out on the bed. You hold her tight your grip gentle but possessive as you cling to each other you both drift off into dreams.

The sound of distant laughter and the smell of summer grass fill your senses. You’re back in the neighborhood park, where the sun is warm, and the sky is endlessly blue. A pair of small hands tugs at yours, pulling you toward the swings. It’s Sohyun, her short hair sticking out in every direction, her face flushed with excitement.

“Come on!” she says, her voice high-pitched and full of determination. “I want to swing higher than you this time!”

You let her drag you to the swings, laughing as she clambers onto one with all the grace of a kid who hasn’t yet figured out coordination. “You never win, you know,” you tease, taking the swing next to her.

“Not yet,” she shoots back, pumping her legs furiously.

The two of you race to see who can swing higher, her competitive grunts mixing with your laughter. Eventually, you both slow down, letting the swings sway gently as the golden light of the late afternoon bathes everything in a warm glow.

“Do you think we’ll always be friends?” she asks suddenly, her voice quieter now, almost shy.

“Of course,” you say without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

She kicks her legs idly, her swing rocking back and forth. “Sometimes people grow up and stop being friends. That’s what my mom says.”

“Well, we won’t,” you declare firmly. “We’ll always stick together.”

She smiles at that, turning her head to look at you. There’s a seriousness in her eyes that’s unusual for a kid her age. “What if we get married? Then we’d have to stay together forever.”

The suggestion catches you off guard, and you burst out laughing. “Married? You and me?”

“Why not?” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re my best friend. And my mom says you should marry someone who makes you happy.”

You consider this, your legs scuffing lightly against the ground as your swing slows to a stop. “I guess that makes sense. But aren’t you supposed to, like… love the person you marry?”

She scrunches up her nose, clearly unimpressed with your reasoning. “Well, I love you, dummy. Don’t you love me?”

Her words hit you with the blunt honesty only a child can muster, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “Uh… yeah. I guess I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” she says with a decisive nod. “When we grow up, we’ll get married. And you can do all the cooking because you make better sandwiches than me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine. But only if you promise not to boss me around too much.”

“Deal,” she says, holding out her pinky. You loop your pinky with hers, sealing the pact.

As the memory begins to fade, you hear her voice one last time, soft and confident. “See? We’ll be together forever. You’ll see.”

You wake up with a start, the sound of waves crashing outside pulling you back to the present. For a moment, you lie there, the dream still vivid in your mind. The memory feels both distant and impossibly close, like a thread connecting the past to the present.

You glance to the side, where Sohyun is still asleep, her hair spread out across the pillow, her face peaceful in the soft morning light. The promise from that day echoes in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if she remembers it too. Seeing the smile plastered on her sleeping face as you caress her shoulder tells you all you need to know. You cuddle closer and are surprised when she buries your half-erect cock in her sopping pussy she moans then says

“I want all of you all the time,” you moan as the two of you go back to sleep

You wake up to Sohyun’s lips pressed into yours as you feel something soft wrap around your cock as you cum. Your eyes focus on Sohyun staring at you with a lascivious glare as she feels your cum pour out.

“Good baby you're awake,” she says. Her eyes glazed over with desire.

“I wanted you to breed me. You have more in you right?” she says hungrily

Seeing her all on display for you makes incredibly hard for her. Seeing it as encouragement she mounts you happily. As she bottoms out on you you moan in pleasure. “Oh fuck honey you're so tight,” Sohyun smiles and you explode in her again. Sohyun feeling your release groans as you cum in her. She bends over to you and whispered

“I'm not birth control and today I'm not safe so I'm gonna get pregnant.”

Her words stir inside as the primal need to claim your woman overwhelmed your entire being your lips raise to meet hers finding yourself lost in a desperate messy lustful kiss that leaves the two of you breathless and hungry you two stare at each other as lust and live intertwine you say to

“God I love every part of you,” Sohyun smiles before responding.

“Oh you have then why didn't you make a move?” she asked

“Because we had been friends for so long. I thought you didn't like me, but you drive me wild Soho,” you say.

Your wife smiles as you ram into her. She groans as thrust in and out.

“You close baby?” you ask. Sohyun smiles as she caresses your face.

“Im always close for you baby,” she says before cumming violently all over your cock. You groan as you join her in another orgasm.

Hours later the two of you sit on the balcony of your resort suite exhausted , the warm night air wrapping around you like a blanket. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, the waves glowing faintly under the moonlight. Sohyun has her feet propped up on the railing, her body relaxed, a glass of something tropical in her hand. She’s wearing a light sundress that flutters gently in the breeze, her hair loosely pinned back.

You sip your drink, watching her out of the corner of your eye. For what feels like the hundredth time on this trip, you’re struck by how different she seems—not just in how she looks, but in how she carries herself. There’s a confidence in her now, something bold and unshakable, and it’s left you feeling a little off-balance.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Of course,” she replies, glancing at you with a small smile.

“What’s with all this?” You gesture vaguely at her—her dress, her posture, everything. “I mean… why are you so seductive all of a sudden?”

Her smile widens, and she lets out a low, amused laugh that sends a shiver down your spine. “Seductive, huh?”

“I’m serious,” you say, though your tone is light. “You’ve always been confident, sure, but this… this is different. You’re different. And I don’t mean that in a bad way,” you add quickly. “It’s just… new.”

She sets her glass down, turning her body slightly to face you. For a moment, she studies you, her expression thoughtful. Then, she leans back, stretching her arms out along the back of her chair, her gaze flicking toward the horizon.

“It’s hard to explain,” she begins, her voice soft but steady. “But I guess… being married to you, living with you—it’s done something to me. It’s like it’s awakened this part of me I didn’t even know was there. This… primal femininity, I guess you could call it.”

You blink, surprised by her honesty. “Primal femininity?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “I know it sounds weird. But it’s true. I’ve always been comfortable with who I am, you know? The short hair, the baggy clothes, the ‘one of the guys’ vibe—it’s always felt right to me. And it still does.” She pauses, glancing down at her hands. “But being with you… it’s like I’ve started to feel this other side of me, this softer, more feminine side. And I don’t mean in a ‘let’s conform to societal norms’ way,” she adds quickly, meeting your eyes. “It’s more personal than that. Like, you bring it out of me.”

Her words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “Me?” you manage.

She nods, her expression softening. “Yeah. You make me feel safe. Like I can just… be. And for the first time, I’m realizing that I can be all these things at once. The tomboy who’ll always beat you at Mario Kart and the woman who wants to wear a dress and flirt with her husband. They’re both me. And I like that.”

You stare at her, your heart doing something strange and uneven in your chest. “I had no idea I had that kind of effect on you.”

“Well, you do,” she says simply, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “You’ve always seen me for who I really am, and that’s… freeing, you know? It makes me want to be even more of myself, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” you say quietly, your voice thick with emotion. ��And for the record, I think both sides of you are amazing.”

Her smile softens, and she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “So, does that answer your question?”

“Yeah,” you say, a slow grin spreading across your face. “But I still reserve the right to be a little dazzled. You’ve been catching me off guard a lot lately.”

“Good,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “It’s about time I had the upper hand for once.”

You laugh, and she joins in, the sound light and easy. And as you sit there, talking and teasing each other under the stars, you realize just how much you love every part of her—past, present, and whatever comes next.

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[soleilpinto]

DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Love in the Last Corner °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Note: I can’t believe we’re finally at the final part of this series, it’s been a wild time writing this fic 😭 Don’t worry though, I’ll have another smau coming out soon so you guys won’t get bored. Thank you guys so much again for the huge amount of love on the series, even if it is my first one on this account. Love you all!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV./NEXT.)

@williamzracing so y/n's been radio silent about franco for weeks... but now she’s in qatar and hanging out with lando? ��� something’s up

@oversteerqueen y/n showing up in the mclaren garage with lando like she didn’t spend the entire season thirsting over franco... the AUDACITY

@chequeredflirt i’m calling it now: y/n and franco are done, and lando is moving in for the win (and i’m not talking about the constructors) 😂

@chicanechatter imagine being franco and seeing y/n with lando in qatar. the silence is deafening.

@formulafrenzyy this lando and y/n thing better be pr because I’m not emotionally ready for a breakup AND a new ship all at once

The McLaren garage buzzed with energy as checks were being made before the first free practice session.

You stood off to the side, leaning casually against a wall, chatting with Lando. His easy humor had you laughing, your shoulders relaxing despite the chaos of the paddock around you.

“You know,” Lando teased, crossing his arms with a sly grin, “if you’re going to hang around the McLaren garage this much, we might as well get you some team gear. You’d look good in papaya.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “I don’t know, Lando. Orange might not be my color.”

“It’s papaya,” Lando corrected with mock seriousness, making you laugh again.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, and before you could turn fully, you felt it—Franco’s presence. He was walking past, his gaze locked on you and Lando, his jaw tight and his eyes unreadable.

You tensed involuntarily, your laughter dying down as your eyes met his for the briefest of moments.

Lando noticed the change in your demeanor and followed your gaze, his expression shifting.

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Franco slowed his stride as if debating something, and then, to your surprise, he pivoted on his heel and walked straight toward you. Your stomach flipped.

This wasn’t like him.

“Can we talk?” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was a sharp edge to it as he glanced between you and Lando.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” Franco’s tone left no room for argument.

Lando raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly but still hovering close enough to observe.

“Well, I think that’s my cue to check on the car,” he said, shooting you a quick look as if to say good luck.

“Thanks, Lando,” you muttered, your voice tight as he walked off, leaving you alone with Franco.

You crossed your arms, looking up at him. “What’s this about?”

Franco’s expression softened for a moment before hardening again, as if he were fighting some internal battle.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said bluntly.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“This... pretending like I don’t care,” he admitted, his voice low but intense.

“I saw you laughing with Lando, and I couldn’t just walk away this time. I’m tired of avoiding this, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the sudden vulnerability in his tone, your heart pounding as you tried to process his words.

“Avoiding what?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Franco’s eyes searched yours, and for the first time in weeks, the tension between you felt less like a wall and more like a thread ready to snap.

“You,” he said simply. “Us.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped altogether, and the world around you faded into the background. But before you could find the words to respond, Franco shook his head slightly, as if trying to steady himself.

“I just... I needed to say it,” he muttered. “I couldn’t let it go unsaid anymore.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there in the middle of the McLaren garage, your thoughts spinning faster than the engines roaring in the background.

liked by lettiemng, gabyprentice_ and others

ynbardot doha dump (day one)

lilymhe always so gorgeous

— ynbardot when YOU exist omg lily 😭

iamrebeccad 😍

— ynbardot 😚

The hotel room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of Elena scrolling on her phone.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the room service tray you’d barely touched, replaying the events from the McLaren garage over and over in your mind.

Elena finally looked up, noticing the faraway expression on your face.

“Alright, spill,” she said, setting her phone down and crossing her legs. “What’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Franco came up to me today. In the McLaren garage.”

Elena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? He actually said something for once? And here I thought the boy had forgotten how to talk.”

You managed a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, he finally talked. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

“Wait… what exactly did he say?” Her expression shifted, softening with curiosity.

You hesitated, trying to recall the exact words without letting your emotions twist them.

“He said he was tired of avoiding it. That he couldn’t just walk away this time. And then he said… he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t care.”

Elena stared at you, her lips parted in shock. “Wow,” she finally said, leaning back against the headboard.

“That’s big. That’s really big.”

“Is it, though?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I still don’t understand why he’s been so cold lately. Why he let things get so bad between us. I don’t even know if I believe him, Elena. It’s like… it’s like he’s just now realizing I exist.”

Elena frowned, tilting her head as she studied you.

“You’re hurt,” she said softly.

“Of course I am,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly.

“This whole thing has been a mess. He was fine keeping his distance for weeks, acting like nothing happened, and now he decides to come up to me and say all this? I don’t know how to feel.”

Elena reached over, placing a hand on your arm.

“Y/N, I get it. But listen to me—Franco’s been in his head about you for a while now. Probably longer than he even realizes.”

“What are you talking about?” You looked at her skeptically.

She shrugged, her tone matter-of-fact.

“He’s been acting this way ever since Vegas. I mean, the guy practically spiraled when he saw you and Lando hanging out. Do you really think he didn’t know what he was feeling back then? He’s just been too stubborn—or scared—to admit it.”

Your heart clenched at her words, the memory of Vegas flooding back. Franco’s sharp glares, his tense expression, the way he seemed on edge every time Lando was around.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Because it wasn’t my place to meddle,” Elena said gently.

“He had to figure it out on his own, and it looks like he finally has. I’m just saying—maybe don’t write him off completely just yet.”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know, Elena. It’s not that simple. I’m still hurt. I still don’t trust him not to run away again.”

“And that’s fair,” she said, her voice firm but understanding. “But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t shut him out without hearing him out first. You deserve answers, Y/N. You deserve to know how he really feels.”

You leaned back against the pillows, your mind swirling with doubt and confusion. “What if it’s too late?” you asked softly.

Elena gave you a small smile, her tone reassuring. “If it’s real, it’s never too late. But you have to decide if you’re willing to find out.”

You closed your eyes, her words settling over you like a weight.

Part of you wanted to keep your walls up, to protect yourself from further hurt. But another part—a smaller, quieter part—couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Franco was finally ready to let you in.

The next afternoon, the buzz of activity in the McLaren garage was a welcome distraction. Engineers hurried around, adjusting setups, while mechanics prepped Lando’s car for the third free practice session.

You were perched on a stool by one of the monitors, sipping on a water bottle as Elena scrolled through her phone beside you.

Lando strolled over, helmet tucked under his arm, his signature grin plastered on his face. “Enjoying the chaos?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

You laughed softly. “It’s actually kind of relaxing. Well, compared to my brain lately.”

Elena shot you a knowing look, but said nothing, letting Lando take the bait.

“Oh?” Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s going on in that overthinking head of yours?”

You hesitated, glancing at Elena, who nodded encouragingly.

“It’s… about Franco,” you finally admitted.

Lando set his helmet down, folding his arms as he leaned in closer.

“Alright, now I’m invested. What did he do this time?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Remember how he came up to me yesterday? Before free practice. He said he couldn’t pretend he didn’t care anymore.”

Lando blinked, clearly surprised. “Wow. That’s… actually huge for him. But I’m guessing there’s more to the story.”

“Of course there is,” you said with a dry laugh.

“I just… I don’t know what to do, Lando. Part of me wants to hear him out, but the other part is still so angry and hurt. He’s been so distant for weeks, and now suddenly he wants to talk?”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, his expression unusually serious.

“Look, I’m not gonna pretend I know Franco super well, but from what I’ve seen? He’s not the kind of guy who puts himself out there unless he means it.”

“That’s what Elena said,” you muttered, glancing at your friend, who gave you an encouraging smile.

Lando shrugged, his tone casual but sincere.

“Then maybe Elena’s onto something. I get that you’re hurt, and you have every right to be. But if he’s finally stepping up, don’t you think it’s worth at least hearing him out?”

You bit your lip, his words sinking in. “What if he’s just going to hurt me again?”

“Then you’ll have every right to tell him to shove it. But at least you’ll know you gave him the chance to explain himself. Better than sitting here wondering what could’ve been, right?” Lando reached out, gently poking your shoulder.

Before you could respond, Oscar called for Lando, signaling it was time for him to suit up. He grabbed his helmet, flashing you a quick grin.

“Think about it, yeah? I’ve gotta go be a superstar now.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as he walked off toward his car. Elena nudged your arm, her expression teasing.

“He’s got a point, you know,” she said.

You exhaled deeply, watching as Lando climbed into his car, the hum of the engine roaring to life. Maybe it was time to stop running from this and face whatever was waiting for you.

The podium celebrations had ended, and the Qatar Grand Prix winners were back in the paddock, mingling with team members and a few drivers who had stayed behind to offer their congratulations.

The desert night was cool, but the buzz of the race still lingered in the air.

You stood nearby with Elena, chatting casually with Lando and Oscar, both still riding the adrenaline high from their stellar performances that weekend.

“Not a bad day at the office, huh?” you said to Lando, who was leaning against a table, his trademark grin on full display.

“Not bad at all,” he replied, his tone playful. “But now, it’s all about getting some rest before Abu Dhabi. That’s where the real fun is.”

Oscar chuckled, his demeanor calm as always. “Yeah, if we don’t wake up late that is. Speaking of, we should probably head out soon.”

“Agreed,” Lando added, pushing himself upright. “Gotta make sure we’re fresh for the finale.” He glanced at you and Elena. “You two are heading to Abu Dhabi later, right?”

You nodded. “We’re on the early morning flight. Guess we’ll see you there.”

“Perfect,” Lando said with a wink. “Abu Dhabi’s gonna be a party.”

The sun casts a golden glow over Abu Dhabi, illuminating the city’s gleaming architecture and turquoise waters.

You wandered through the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque with Elena, Jade, and Alex by your side, the four of you taking in the breathtaking beauty of the place. Tourists moved around you, their whispers blending into the serene atmosphere.

Elena nudged your side as you adjusted your scarf. “You’ve been quiet all morning. Still thinking about Franco?”

“What do you think?” You shot her a look, but the slight heat in your cheeks gave you away.

“I think you’re pretending to enjoy the scenery, but all you can think about is how he looked at you back in Vegas—and maybe what he said yesterday.” She smirked knowingly.

You sighed, brushing your fingers over the marble pillars. “It’s just… I don’t know what to do. He seemed so genuine, but it’s hard to forget how much he hurt me. And this is supposed to be his weekend. His last race in F1. I don’t want to distract him.”

Elena stopped walking and turned to face you, her expression soft yet serious.

“Y/N, you’re not a distraction. You’re the one thing he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. Don’t you see it? He’s been aware of his feelings for you since Vegas, and the fact that he finally admitted them says a lot.”

You crossed your arms, feeling the weight of her words. “What if I can’t trust him again? What if I just get hurt all over?”

Elena reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“That’s a risk, yeah. But what if this time, he’s ready to prove himself to you? You’ve always been good at reading people, Y/N. Trust your gut.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you saw Franco’s name flashing on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat, and Elena raised an eyebrow.

“Speaking of,” she said with a teasing grin.

You hesitated before answering, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Franco’s voice was steady, but there was an undertone of nervousness. “I heard you’re out exploring the city. Do you have a minute? There’s something I want to show you.”

Elena gave you an encouraging nod, mouthing, Go.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, your pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

“Corniche Beach,” he replied. “I’ll send you the location.”

After hanging up, you turned to Elena, who was already grinning. “Go,” she urged. “I’ll be fine. Take the chance, Y/N.”

You gave her a hesitant smile before walking toward the exit. As you stepped into the warm Abu Dhabi air, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment where things between you and Franco would finally find clarity—or fall apart completely.

The sun dipped low over Corniche Beach, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore was a stark contrast to the whirlwind in your chest as you spotted Franco waiting by the railing. He was dressed casually, his hands shoved into his pockets, but the look on his face was anything but relaxed.

He straightened up when he saw you approach, his lips curving into a tentative smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, stopping a few feet away.

The cool evening breeze swept through your hair, and you crossed your arms, unsure of how to start. “You wanted to see me?”

Franco nodded, exhaling deeply before gesturing toward the beach.

“Yeah, I thought this would be a good place to talk. It’s quieter.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Talk about what?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting yours again. “Us.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. You swallowed hard, trying to steel yourself.

“What about us, Franco?”

He stepped closer, his expression serious yet vulnerable.

“I’ve been a complete idiot. I know that. I messed everything up in Vegas, and then I made it worse by not talking to you. I let my own fear ruin everything. But… I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. Because I do. I care so much it scares me.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through the layers of doubt and hurt that had built up over the past few weeks.

“Franco, you can’t just say that after everything,” you said, your voice wavering. “You hurt me. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been?”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and laced with regret. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I need you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was raw honesty, his dark eyes pleading with you to believe him.

“I kept telling myself this was fake, that it didn’t mean anything,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “But it wasn’t fake for me. Not then, and definitely not now.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, leaving you momentarily speechless. When you finally found your voice, it was soft but steady.

“Franco, I don’t want to be someone you’re unsure about. I don’t want to be second-guessing where I stand with you.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, taking another step closer. “You’re not second to anything, Y/N. You’re everything. And I’m done running from it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the walls you’d built around it starting to crack.

“Franco, if I give this a chance—if I give you a chance—you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

“Be honest with me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “No more mixed signals, no more hiding. If you’re all in, I need to know.”

He nodded, reaching for your hands. His touch was warm, grounding you as he looked into your eyes with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“I’m all in,” he said softly. “I’m not letting fear get in the way again.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the sound of the waves and the distant hum of the city becoming background noise. Then, slowly, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Let’s do this.”

A smile broke across his face, and before you could say another word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You leaned into him, the weight of the past weeks lifting as the warmth of his embrace wrapped around you.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was boyish, full of relief and happiness. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest finally easing. “You better not make me.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, you felt something you hadn’t in weeks—hope.

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and others

ynbardot headstart in abu dhabi

elenavalor omg she finally did it 😭

— ynbardot i love you 🥹

francisca.cgomes 🥹🫶

@gridgossips not y/n soft launching franco on her feed and him immediately liking it. y’all… we’re so back. 😭

@lightsoutndaway y/n subtly dropping franco in her post and he’s out here liking it like they didn’t just have the messiest fallout? this is PEAK f1 drama

@tifosiqueen that photo of franco and y/n in her post was so soft. are they finally on good terms or are we entering relationship announcement territory? 👀✨

@pitlaneinsider not me seeing y/n and franco walking together at the paddock entrance…i thought they weren’t on speaking terms? 🧐

@colapintcentral the fact that y/n and franco are literally together at yas marina right now after WEEKS of silence has me going insane. someone explain the timeline 🥲

The roar of the crowd at Yas Marina fades into a low hum as you make your way to the paddock after the race.

The air feels thick with tension, and the pit crews are busy packing up, but all you can focus on is Franco.

You had seen him in the cockpit, his car fighting for position before that unfortunate technical issue, and now you know he's out of the race.

He didn't finish.

You walk through the garage, your heart sinking a little with every step until you spot him by his team's pit wall.

Franco's shoulders are slumped, and his gaze is fixed on the ground. He doesn’t see you at first, too caught up in the frustration of yet another DNF.

“Franco,” you call softly, and his head snaps up.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and for a moment, you almost regret the words that follow. “Are you okay?”

He exhales sharply, his usual confident demeanor now worn down by the race.

“I’ll live,” he says with a tight smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m just... tired since it’s already the last race. Feels like I’m always on the edge, always close, but never quite there.”

You walk closer, carefully avoiding the space around him that feels like he’s trying to keep himself distant.

“You know, you're still one of the best out there,” you say, your voice soothing despite the ache in your chest. “None of this was your fault.”

Franco lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m not worried about that. It’s more... everything else. The pressure. The expectations. And... well,” he pauses, glancing at you through his lashes, “this.”

You swallow, trying not to let the weight of his words pull you under. “You don’t have to keep pretending with me, you know,” you murmur, stepping closer so there’s no space between the two of you.

You’re quiet for a beat, your heart hammering in your chest as his words echo in your head. It’s strange.

It’s been so easy to let things go, to keep pretending for the cameras, for the fans. But now, it feels different.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” you say, voice shaking slightly, but your eyes never leave his. “I don’t know if this is just a phase, or if we’re making something out of nothing.”

Franco steps a little closer, his hand brushing against yours.

“We take it one step at a time. No pressure. Just... let’s see where the world takes us, yeah?”

You nod, a small but relieved smile tugging at your lips. It’s not perfect. It’s not figured out.

But for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe you’ve taken a step toward something real—something you weren’t sure you’d get.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[leesolbeesol]

I LOVE YOU! 愛してる! 사랑해!

sungho x fem!reader (ft. mild instigator!taesan and mistaken!woonhak)

GENRE: pure unedited fluff! SUMMARY: Sungho keeps avoiding you... so why is he confessing to you in Japanese? WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used one time | highschool!au but you can ignore that most of the time | this is my world and overtly self-insert so reader doesn't speak japanese and takes chinese in school NOTES: everyone say thank you boynextdoor for the fantastic comeback! seriously though, all their songs are so good i cant even believe it also no proofreading we post like god intended. WC: 2.2k (woww)

It was all Woonhak’s fault—that’s what Sungho thought, at least. He set up the damned snowball fight after all. 

The first time you saw—really saw—Sungho was when you cast a snowball at him and the icy contents landed right in his face and froze him when they snuck through his coat down his neck. You’re not sure why he didn’t block it, you saw him evade others thrown with far less warning and far more force. Instead, he stood with a ready snowball in his gloved hand. That’s the problem—he stood. He just stared at you as your attack wet his brown hair and dropped between his collar and his neck. You had met Sungho a handful of times, but when you did you didn’t speak to him much at all. He was kind of quiet and there were plenty of other mutual friends around for you to chat with, so you didn’t press it. He was pretty, of course, but that alone wasn’t enough for you to individually pursue him. Plus, anytime you showed up it’s like he suddenly had somewhere else to be. You eventually assumed he just didn’t like you all that much, and that was fine. A little disappointing, but fine. After your attack, his expression didn’t change, save for his eyebrows which raised a little. The poor boy looked like he had seen a ghost. You would have put more thought into it if another friend of yours, Taesan, cruelly dared you to a fire—or, snow—fight by crashing an icy cold ball of snow right onto your head. Almost as fast as Sungho had come to the front of your conscious, you were taken away again. The image of him, however, was burned into your mind. Why did he look at you like that? Why did he not react? How did he look so perfect? Those were some pretty frequent thoughts, though the last one you tried to ignore. Regardless, it kept coming back. The image of his soft brown hair, long for the boys your age, sprinkled with snow and his surprised, slightly parted lips came to you at the most inconvenient times.

—

The second time you saw Sungho, he was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair on the slightly raised wooden stage of your auditorium, his navy guitar slotted in his hands, about to start another song to the cheers of the small audience that had gathered during their free period. You remember him prefacing the song with something along the lines of ‘this is a work-in-progress,’ he tsked, ‘so it’s not done yet, but I hope you like it so far.’ You join the group on the periphery, smiling and nodding along to the song he starts. His voice rings clear around the room as he strums the hook. His hair falls just over his eyes that close when he starts singing the lyrics. You shoo away the thought that tells you he looks handsome—really handsome, especially in his element with the music swirling around him. It makes no sense, but when you look at him you want to talk to him. You want to ask him what inspired him to write it, you want to ask him how he got into music, you want to ask him. The song is heartfelt throughout, but the lyric that sticks with you is ‘yeah, I’ve got it bad,’ because that’s the line that preceded the chorus, the tentative chorus in which he critically screwed up when he saw you. You swear it was like his brain stopped for a minute when he saw you swaying along. Wrong chord, wrong lyric, wrong chord, again. You could feel the glances being exchanged by the confused crowd. After he tore his eyes away from you, he barely got it together for the end of the in-progress work. You looked to Woonhak, a few people to your left, and he just shrugged. The song was good, but still, you couldn’t quite figure out what was up with Sungho.

—

The third time you saw Sungho, you barely saw him at all. This was because of the open door, the paper thin walls of your classroom, and Sungho’s loud voice that fills whatever space he’s in. You infer that that’s how he is normally—‘normally’ meaning specifically not around you. It’s beneficial here, though. You were mercifully sitting against the interior wall and took the golden opportunity to rest your head and take a break from thinking so hard about… well, lots of things. Classes, new collectables, what you were going to have for dinner, you know what it’s like. It was Taesan’s, not Sungho’s, voice that broke you from your cursory peace. Taesan’s voice is certainly loud, especially when he’s surprised.

“You’re joking!” Taesan said and was quickly shushed by Sungho. It appeared to just be the two of them. It was strange—you were friends with most of Sungho’s friends, but barely friends with Sungho himself at all.

“Quiet down! I’m not kidding.” Sungho groaned, and you heard a clunk against the wall your ear was against, so you assumed he was leaning too. “This is just what I’m like, I don’t know what to do at all. I’ve got it really bad.” Taesan laughed at his friend’s complaint. It’s funny, that line was almost the same thing he said in the song. “It’s not funny.” He sighed. He was scolding Taesan, but you feel yourself frown as if he could hear your thoughts about his recurring phrase.

“It’s a little funny.” Taesan presses him. Sungho does not sound like he thinks it's funny.

“I’m being serious, Taesan. She’s all I ever want to think about.” Your ears perk up at the mention of a pronoun. Sungho has a crush? That’s news to you, at least. You mean, maybe it could be something else, but it damn sounds like he has a crush. This makes your heart twist in a way that you are highly uncomfortable with. “Everything's a mess, I’m all over the place. I can’t figure this… this thing out.” He laments. You kind of get it, though. Something you don’t get, however, is the way you hope he doesn’t figure it out. The part you refused to think about was that you didn’t want him to like someone else. God, you hadn’t even spoken to this boy. This is pathetic. You tore your ear away from the wall and covered your ears. Out of sight—or, earshot—out of mind, that’s how it works right? Apparently not, because even after you can’t hear him and that moment gets farther in the past, you think about him. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? This is so stupid.

—

The Friday that Sungho came to school late with his hair sticking up and wearing wrinkled clothes was, counterintuitively, the day you found him the most attractive yet. He sat down after whispering a hushed apology to your frowning teacher. He wasn’t even wearing his contacts, and he always wore his contacts. His glasses framed his face nicely, you decided. You looked back down at your paper as quickly as you looked up at the latecomer entering your classroom. It was hard to focus on your work for the rest of the day. In your Mandarin class, you bombed your quiz. How do you even write that character? You had no idea. All of the sudden, ‘高’ only made you think of Sungho and his stupid broad shoulders and not at all if there’s a hook at the bottom or not. Damn you, Sungho! You got what he meant by the lyrics in the song he had played in the auditorium. You got it bad. As you glanced out the window, you saw the very beginning of the budding cherry blossoms. They look so happy, all bunched up together and starting to bloom in hues of soft pink.

They look the same as you exit from the main door, pink and falling and beautiful. You pause outside those doors, taking in the sight. The trees are pretty, even against the gray sky. You feel more like the gray sky, conflicted. Especially so because you heard Sungho tell Taesan that he “couldn’t take it anymore,” and was “going to tell her today.” That certainly dampened your mood. Not that you have any skin in the game, but you secretly hope that he finds a reason not to. 

You hear a commotion near the doors, and see Sungho rather unceremoniously shoved out of the door by, by the looks of it, more than one set of arms. He looks like a deer in headlights, but starts moving anyway. You watch him, puzzled, before he starts walking over… to you. Behind him, you see Woonhak’s face poke out of the door frame before he looks to be pulled back by someone. You turn your attention back to Sungho, and realize you weren’t mistaken at all. He was walking towards you, holding something behind his back. A slight smile plays on his nervous lips as he closes the remaining distance between you, and you can’t help but glance around to see if this is some kind of joke. He was “going to tell her today.” Is he serious? Are you dreaming?

“What is it?” You ask, though you’re not quite sure why you’re asking or what you hope the answer is. He says nothing, simply extending a hand from behind his back and presenting you with a neatly folded piece of white printer paper. The ink on the inside bled through, slightly visible on the back.

“Aishiteru. Open it.” He encourages you and rolls his bottom lip in his teeth. You had watched him long enough—not in a stalkerish way! Just… in the way that you like looking at his face—to know that this is the face he makes solving a difficult equation. You also know enough about Japanese to recognize the romantic nature of his initial phrase. Why the hell is he speaking to you in Japanese? Regardless, if you weren’t blushing already, you definitely felt heat creeping up to your cheeks now. Doing as he instructs, you gingerly open the folded paper like it’s an artifact that could disintegrate if you so much as touched the paper the wrong way. 

It doesn’t disintegrate, but it might as well have. You stare at what’s written with a blank face. You recognize every other character (your Chinese teacher would be proud), but this is definitely not Chinese. You do recognize the swirling nature of what’s written, however. You furrow your eyebrows, why the hell does Sungho think you speak Japanese? Why is he writing to you in Chinese? Now you’re more confused than nervous. The butterflies in your stomach have settled, evidently asking the same questions you are.

“Sungho,” his name isn’t a question, but it comes out sounding like one, “I can’t read Japanese.” You hold up the paper to him as if he didn’t know it was in Japanese, and he looks absolutely petrified as your words hit him.

“Really?” His voice comes out high-pitched, and he clears his throat. “I mean, you actually don’t speak Japanese?” His register is back to normal, and now he sounds just as confused as you.

“I take Chinese, who told you I take Japanese? What does this even say, anyway?” A smile tugs at your lips. Oh, Sungho. He’s not stupid, you don’t think, maybe it was Woonhak who told him. Woonhak could probably mistake Chinese for Japanese. It could’ve been Jaehyun.

He groans, “Woonhak did.” This satisfies the first part of your question, but he seems hesitant to answer the second part. You raise your eyebrows, prompting him, “well, this is super lame,” what you don’t know is that he internally curses himself, Taesan had told him ‘no self-deprecating statements,’ oops, “but I thought it would make the way I told you unique.”

“Told me what?” You cock your head. The butterflies are back. Thanks to Taesan, you have a sneaking suspicion of what it is, but you refuse to celebrate until you get confirmation. It’s like in debate (your friend had told you way too much), you can think you won the most rounds but you can’t say you won anything until you’re officially told so. It’s like that.

I love you! 愛してる! 사랑해!

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’ve got it really bad.” He smiles and you think your heart might melt or explode, you’re not sure which feels more imminent. You’ve been told you won. It’s like a big weight has been lifted. The cherry blossoms look pinker.

“That’s what you wrote in the song!” You remember, hoping that he’ll be impressed you were paying attention.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, rubbing his neck, “that was about you.” It might be the best sight you’ve ever seen. This kind, handsome boy telling you he wrote a whole song about you. “It’s finished now, I can play it if you want… is that embarrassing?” He’s asking for reassurance, and, oh, do you give him reassurance. Reassurance comes in the form of putting your arms around him. Actions speak better than words—that’s your reasoning, at least.

“That’s not embarrassing. That’s cute.” You tell him, though your words are slightly muffled since you’re not speaking directly to him anymore. The butterflies in your stomach cheer you on as you muster all the courage you can find in the deep crevices of your heart and mind, “I like you too, Sungho.” You tell him, and you can hear his heart beating through his coat.

FINAL NOTES: yippee!!! going to a debate tournament wont post for a few days love you mwah

[bethebesttoyou]

Vampire In the Corner - Huening Kai

Synopsis: y/n learns the meaning of "reaping what you sow", when she wishes for a romance experience, only for it to come back as the form of a hungry vampire.

pairing: Vampire! Huening Kai x College student!reader

song: vampire in the corner - Magdalena Bay ( this song has been stuck in my head TEW GOOD) the song itself is quirky and kinda weird and sweet and I tried to make it the same vibe, but then like always we lost the plot. But it's inspired! Also inspired by Lisa Frankenstein! Also bad writing, but practice makes perfect :D

warning: Blood and biting and you know vampire stuff... the whole shebang.... and I think that's it! I tried to make it fluff and but honestly the mind does its own thing most of the time *sigh* Winter as a wannabe witch (or is she?) You as a hopeless romantic.

wc: 5k (😀)

A/N: You ever get a storyline stuck in your head and you love it so much, that even seeing it actually written down isn't enough? I need to be IN this story. I had this song and storyline stuck in my head and honestly not sure if I did it any justice but I wanted to so badly put it out before 1. I lost it and 2. I started to see the flaws in it.... If theres any plot holes, no there isn't <3 KIDDING PLS TELL ME

…And what endearments am I allowed? Let me think. Lizzie for everyday. My pearl for sundays and goddess divine…

The small tv illuminated the dark living room area of Soobin and Beomgyu’s apartment. Five faces braced the bright light, with one pair of eyes sparkling at the scene of her favorite movie, while the others watched with amusement at the cheesiness of it all. Surrounding them were plates with pizza scraps, sugary drinks and chips as they laid in different positions on the floor. 

…And how are you this evening Mrs. Darcy?...

“And how are you this evening, Mrs. Darcy?” the five of you repeat, you with a love laced voice, while the others mocked then gagged. 

“Seriously, who wrote the script…” Beomgyu groans as he rolls his head back. The credits had begun to roll down the screen, Winter reaching forward to pause the video. 

“A genius... You wouldn't know anything about that.” You throw the pillow towards him, hitting him square in the chest. 

“Alright, birthday girl… what’s next?” Yunjin grabs her plate, setting it on the already full coffee table, before stretching her hands in the air. 

This was a common Friday night for the five of you, while the apartment complex was buzzing with drunk college kids and a loud bass making the walls vibrate, your plans consisted of junk food, ranting, movies, trying not to kill Beomgyu and sometimes board games that Soobin stole from the recreational area on campus. Today, being your birthday, was spent doing everything you wanted to do, which included watching romance movies until the sun went down. You were three movies in before you decided to officially call it quits. 

“Hmm… I think Ive tortured you guys enough…” 

“Thank god…” Soobin whispers on the other side of the coffee table. 

“You guys suck! The girls enjoyed it right!?” 

“No.” Winter states blandly, her eyes covered by her dark side bang. 

“Um…I enjoyed you watching it~” Yunjin tries to flirt her way out, when she sees your glare, she continues, “okay present time! Me first! Me first!” 

She stands quickly running to her bag when Winter and Beomgyu pull out the boxes from behind them. 

“Quick. Open them before she upstages us.” Beomgyu whispers, pushing the boxes into your hands, Winter nods enthusiastically. 

You laugh before unwrapping Beomgyu’s box. Within the precise wrapping was a knitted brown sweater, the fabric was soft and decorated with blue flowers and patterns, accompanied with a matching blue beanie. It screamed you, as you put the sweater on, the color matching your maxi skirt. 

“Thanks Beomie! It's so me!!” 

“I know! I stalked your socials!” He said with a childlike excitement. 

“Oh!” 

“Me next! Me next!” Winter pushes the smaller box towards you. 

The box itself was wrapped in all black being held on all four sides by a gold ribbon. Untying it revealed a small vial of gray glittery liquid. A potion. 

“It's an armor potion. Meant to keep you from getting harmed if ever in danger. Made it myself!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. 

“That's weird.” Beomgyu says upfront. You elbow him in the chest. It was weird, but thoughtful.

After no one speaks, she continues. “It can also be just for decoration.” 

“Youre so right! Going straight onto my shelf! Thanks Winnie! It's beautiful.” 

“Let's just hope she never has to use it.” Soobin glanced nervously at Winter’s small smile. 

“Me and Soobin pitched in together to get you this one…” Yunjin hands you their box. Opening it revealed a digital camera, already decorations with painted red flowers, and pink and white stars. 

“Oh my god… It's beautiful.” You looked at them both with adoration as they high five. 

“We know you've been wanting to take more pictures!” 

“Guys… All of you! I love you, guys!” your tears are threatening to spill. 

You wouldn't say your group of five were considered losers on campus…more so you weren't considered at all. Invisible really. Except for Winter, whose darkly appearance would garner stares and giggles. But no one really minded. Being in your own little world had its perks, You were able to be yourselves, able to speak your mind, maybe get bullied for it but in your own loving way. The outside world hurt, it burned and felt lonely. In the boy’s shared apartment, life felt easy and hopeful. 

You knew you made an odd bunch, different personalities mixed together wouldn't have probably worked for others, but you all genuinely enjoyed each other's presence. Whether the night consisted of Winter begging to contact ghosts or trying out spells she saw on some weird witch website, or Beomgyu and Soobin arguing about which game graphics were better on which console, or even Yunjins heated rants about everyone she hates (which amounts up to everyone), your nights were never boring. Spending your birthday with them was no different. In fact, nothing felt more like family. 

“Quick! Group picture before she starts getting sentimental!” 

You set the timer on the old camera, wiping your eyes before sitting in between Beomgyu and Winter, both resting their heads on your shoulders, Yunjin and Soobin joining in, sitting at the ends. The flash goes off as giggles spread around the room. 

—--

The clock had hit 1am by the time some were beginning to fall asleep on the ground. It marked the end of the night so once the cake was cut, and the group made fun of you for loudly wishing for a boyfriend on your candles, the five of you cleaned and started heading out. 

“Are you sure you don't want any of us to walk you home? It's really late…” Yunjin and Beomgyu look concerned as you all stand outside. 

Your place was towards the other direction than the others, leading you to have to take the dark road up to the furthest wing of dorms. 

“Yeah…I dont mind walking you.” Soobin stated, pushing his glasses up. He looked nervous watching the path to your dorm disappear in the darkness, crowded with trees and shrubs, letting you know he was more scared than you were. The path itself looked like a forest with how covered it was, the wind making the branches rattle and crack as the ‘hoos’ and caws from the nightbirds became louder. 

“Guys, it takes me like 8 minutes to get up there, ill be okay…who knows maybe I'll find the love of my life in those scary bushes.” 

“I dont think anything good is coming out of that forest…” 

You shrug, “I like bad boys too.” 

They groan, again. 

“Hey, you have that potion on you right?” Winter says from the back. 

“Yes, ofcourse!” 

“Dont be scared to use it.” 

“After I use it, they should be scared of me.” 

“YES!” Winter exclaims proudly. 

“Okay! Bye guys! Love you!” You exclaim, walking towards the dark end of the street, before they can protest. 

“Text us when you get home!” Yunjin yells. 

While they worried, this wasn't a new path to you. You had taken it many times since the group formed back in freshman year, when beomgyu and Soobin had invited you guys over to discuss some group project at the time. It was fate that the five of you were the last remaining students with no group to work with yet (maybe not fate, since no one wanted to work with introverted losers). You were boy crazy then too, the smiles of both beomgyu and Soobin had you in a trance, convinced that they were much in love with you as you were with them. But the infatuation wore out. It always did. Your obsession with love and the consumption of it,drove you to binging romcoms, staring at couples in restaurants, daydreaming about meeting your charming prince, and falling with just about anyone you'd meet. Yes, you were a little weird and your social skills might've been a little off to those you weren't close with, but you knew there was someone out there for you. Yet, you never actually went further than the feelings you gain, you would obsess then let it fizzle out. It was a routine, and kept your thoughts running at 80mph. 

You craved romance and would have sold your soul to be able to actually experience it. The late night kisses, the giggling under covers, the shy hand holding, the flustered cheeks, the sighing kisses, everything, you fantasized about it all. And you thought about it every single day, taking up most of your thoughts, leaving you distracted just like now. 

You were so distracted in fact,  walking the dirt road through the trees, as the moonlight made your footsteps cast shadows, that you didn't hear the other pair of footsteps behind you, or the wisps that caused the leaves to rustle. It wasn't till the crack of a branch nearby that you came to a halt.

You looked around for a sign of movement, holding onto the strap of your crossbody, listening in for any other sounds. The wind picked up, causing a chill down your spine, before you chuckle slightly, the fear slowly dissipating before blaming the weather for the scare. 

“Hi.”  A voice spoke, making you whip around to see no one, only when you face back to the direction of home, a man stands in front of you. Grasping at your heart, you stand still as you take a good look at him. The moonlight bounces on his black hair and his pale white skin that shines specks of crystal like freckles, but his eyes… no light reflects on them. 

“H-hi.” You respond back. You can't stop staring at his eyes as his pupils dilate and then return to normal. He steps forward and you step back, almost losing your balance. 

“I-its really late, a d-damsel like yourself shouldn't be l-left alone so late at n-night.” The man stutters out, he seems nervous and almost tired, with the heavy breaths he's pushing out. He rolls his head slowly, almost trying to regain any composure and opens his mouth, as he, very noticeably, stretches his jaw out and that's when you see it. Reflected by the white dull light of the moon, his two sharp teeth shine, pointy and thick…fangs. 

He returns your stare, licking the grooves of his top teeth. 

“Are…are you a vampire?” You ask, eyes wide and for a second, he's mirroring your reaction. 

Why arent you screaming yet? Neither of you move, and the figure looks at you confused. Why would you ask that so nonchalantly?

“Um…yes?” His brows were furrowed and head tilted. 

“Oh…” 

“Are you not scared?” 

You thought about it for a moment. Your hand was still on your heart, feeling the quick beats hit against your chest, yet you couldn't necessarily blame it on fear. You were…intrigued. The glimpse of half of his face left you wanting a closer look, the shining of his skin was blinding and distracting. 

“Youre so…pretty.” You say, mostly to yourself, but he is able to catch it. His eyes widen, watching your eyes sparkle with the moonlight and he feels heat rise to his cheeks.

“Um… What's your name?” You ask out of habit. 

“Kai.” 

“Y/N.” 

He nods. You can tell he's having a mental war with himself. This is probably not how these things go for him as he scratches his head softly. 

 With that, you realized why you weren't scared, he was not intimidating at all. Everything about him was soft, even the curve of his nose and the softness of his jaw. He didn't look like a threat. He looked like a painting, with his white flowy button up under a blue vest and blue jeans, his hair that laid like a mop on his head flowed in the breeze, uncovering a bit of his forehead. His teeth stuck out of his ‘o’ shaped mouth, you wondered how they would feel, if they were as sharp as they looked. 

You take a step forward, he takes a step back. 

“Um… Kai…Can…can I touch them?” 

“What? M-my fangs?” 

You nod nervously, almost regretting feeling bold enough to ask. Its the one thing that can kill you in this moment and yet the urge to feel them clouds your judgement. 

Kai, on the other hand, is completely lost in this situation, he has never garnered this reaction before. He's never been called pretty before. And he's caught off guard again when he realizes he's opening his mouth widely giving the stranger room to feel. 

You reach with one finger to smoothly feel the top before reaching the sharp end. The plush skin of your finger is not a sensation that Kai can turn a blind eye to, and yet he doesn't understand why he doesn't just bite down. You were merely food to him, so why is he having so much hesitation when it comes to you? 

Wind blows a bit harder this time around, reminding you where you were, the vibrations coming from your bag becoming louder. Shit. You remove your fingers from his teeth harshly. 

You begin to rummage through your bag before pulling it out and answering, the strange man still watching you in shock. 

“Hello?” 

What the hell? Are you dead? We have been calling and texting!! Soobin is on the other end, and you can hear beomgyu ask frantically, Did she answer? 

“I know, i-im sorry… I, uh, got caught up w-with something.” 

are you home atleast? 

You looked at the flustered vampire who was looking at you, disoriented. 

“Uhh, Yes, I'm heading to bed now, bye!” 

Hey! Wha- *Click* 

You focus on him again and then the lights of the building behind him. 

His pained face alerts you. 

“What?” 

“Your finger…” You look down at your hands and feel the liquidy substance dripping.

“Fuck.” You say as you begin wiping the blood on your skirt, but this just pains him more, a growl from his stomach breaking the silence. You stare up at him. The eye contact is prolonged as once again, he seems to be at a crossroads. Was he about to kill you? 

“I-Im just g-gonna go.” he grunts, and you feel a breath you didn't know you were holding. 

As he tries to make his departure, he finds himself once again feeling tired, but this time unable to stand straight, leaning on a tree close by, heaving. 

“A-are you okay?” You step closer, putting a hand on his back cautiously. 

He groans again, falling to his knees. 

“H-hungry…” He turns his neck to look at you and there's tears pooling in his eyes, theres red thick veins traveling from the inside of his shirt up up his neck and jaw, pulsing, each one causing him to close his eyes in pain, he looked like he was dying…it looked unbearable. You feel your eyes soften and you begin to worry. 

“Oh.. Um…” Your mind races trying to find a solution that doesn't involve dying or killing a person. OH! 

“S-Stay here! Ill be right back!” He turns to lean against the tree, sniffling, holding his stomach as the crystals in his skin start to fade. 

You sprint out of the tree infested woods, across the back lawn of the campus and head straight to the 24 hour diner. It would be the only place open at this time. You thought about it for a moment, how this couldve been your escape. Nothing was stopping you from leaving him there, from escaping danger. He didn't have to voice that he had every intention of killing you tonight, you knew, and yet his matted black eyes filled with tears made you run faster, the act of someone dying in front of you made you keep running. 

The door rings as you barge into the lonely diner, one booth occupied by a young looking man stirring his cup. You head towards the counter, frantically ringing the service bell. 

“You dont have to ring it that many times. How can i help you?” A very bored looking Anton waits for your order, but you cant stop your heavy breathing. You knew Anton from class, he had asked for a pen more than once, you thought he liked you, he just really needed a pen. And nothing reassured that statement than this moment, as he seemed to not realize who you were. 

“Um..” you clear your throat, “I-I need your bloodiest steak. Dont cook it.” He gave you a weirded out look.

“I legally cant give you that. Its a safety hazard. What? do you eat them raw?” 

you were running out of time. 

“Look, i have with me…” you take your wallet out counting your change, including your birthday money from your parents, “ 60 bucks for an uncooked steak, the bloodiest one you have. There's no cameras, so j-just take the bribe.” 

“Is this a prank?” 

“No? Please, Anton.” 

“How do you know my name?” Ouch. 

“We have class together, does it matter? The steak.” You were growing frustrated as you stole glances towards the trees in the distance. 

“Fine.” He takes the money from your hand and shoves it in his jeans before walking to the back. As you waited, you began to process the night. 

He could have just sucked your blood and left. You wonder what stopped him. What made him show you any mercy? Or was it maybe your blood doesn't smell tasty enough? Did even vampires not want you? You were kind of offended. 

“Here, it was the last one in the bag, so i just kept it with the juices.” He grimaced, staring at the sloshing of blood in the clear bag, “Is this for that one girl, whats her name? Autumn? Isnt she a wit-“ 

“Cant stay! Bye!” 

He watches as you leave the diner, heading straight towards the dark woods, and he shutters. weird, that was weird. 

As you get closer to the tree, you notice a crawling figure making their way out of the path, it was kai. Kai was on his knees, looking worse by the minute. You felt fear in this moment, if you get close to him, will he be able to control himself? But with the brittle way he tries to hold himself up, you knew you didnt have the heart to leave him there. you stick your hand in your bag to feel the vial, maybe winter knew what she was doing when she gave you this. So you run the rest of the journey, and begin to pull him up, setting him up against another tree nearby, watching the veins now turn black and thicker, it was like something inside him was eating him up. The tears were now running down his cheeks, and his hair was looking tussled. 

“what are you doing? I told you to stay… You're wasting your energy.” 

“I think I'm dying…”

“Here, I hope this helps.” You pull the bloody steak out of the bag and prepare for him to grab it, only for him to begin eating from your hand, with his teeth digging into the slab of meat aggressively. With each slurp the veins retract back into his skin, the softness and shininess coming back. Your hands tugged every now and then, as you tried to stay still, the blood was running down his neck and bleeding into his white blouse as he sucked the last drop. The crystallized freckles popped out one by one and even a dozen more, his cheeks were fuller and had a bit more color than before.And his black eyes were no longer dull, they were shining and reflecting the light coming from the nearby building. The most noticeable change was his lips, that were once dry and cracked, had become tinted pink and soft, creating their very own gloss. 

His eyes looked up to you after realizing the steak was now dry. The pink on his cheeks grows a shade darker as he stares, slowly releasing the meat from his hold, letting the weight, or lack of it, hang on your fingertips. You clear your throat. 

“Um… complementary blood juice?” 

“You're so weird… What are you?Why aren't you running away? Matter of fact, why did you come back?” He no longer feels at death's door, having the energy to investigate. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and you watch as the blood drips from his mouth. You swallow hard. 

“I-Im human. Im Y/N.” His head tilts. 

“I know your name… why did you come back?” 

“I dont know… I don't know! You looked pretty but also sad and scared and you were crying… I couldn't leave you like that!” You're looking down at your hands, noticing not only the dry blood on them, but the ring of mud on your skirt. Anton had every right to be weirded out.

Kai covers his face with his hands, “Stop calling me pretty!” 

“Im sorry.” There's a beat of silence. 

“Where did you even get this? Did you put something in it? Are you working for someone?” 

“What?! No! I-I bought it! Pretty expensive I might add! And I-I expect to be paid!” 

“Dont worry, I can afford a 5 dollar steak” He smugly adds.  

“Ha! 5 dollars… what world are you living in?! You're in the year 2025!! That steak was 60!! 60 dollars!!” You refrain telling him the part where you offered that much. 

“60 dollars?! Where did you get 60 dollars from?!” He looks you up and down, from the muddy brown skirt to your new brown, now covered in splotches of red, sweater.

“It was birthday money.” you snap unintentionally. A beat of silence passes. 

“I'm sorry, I'm being ungrateful, you just saved me…I just… humans aren't usually this… caring? Happy Birthday….by the way…” 

“Thank you.” You sheepishly state, no longer looking at him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You grab your phone from your bag again, taking a look at the time. 2:43am. The group chat had died down by this point, leaving you with a couple of missed calls and messages of concern and then an updated message from your call with Soobin before everyone started saying good night. One message caught your eye though, a private message from Winter. 

1:20am

Please be careful…

“What is that?” 

“What?”

“In your hand? You talked to it earlier too, right?” 

Hes leaning forward now, scooting a bit closer. Its almost like he forgot he was a threat and you leaned back, before he looked at you and then back your hand curiously. 

“My phone…it's a phone.” 

“Woah… you mean like the telephone was modernized? Where’s the wiring?” 

“Its mobile now… l-like wireless?” 

“Wireless?! That's so interesting…This is so advanced, where are the buttons?” His eyes are bright with curiosity. 

“Its touchscreen!” His excitement was contagious and you couldn't help but giggle. 

“Touchscreen?” 

“Yeah, look!” You say clicking it on, the lock screen displaying a picture of Winter and Soobin wearing halloween masks posing back to back. You smile softly. You unlock it, passing it over to him to look through. Your hand skims his as he grabs the device. You feel a shock before pulling your hand away quickly, knocking your bag and hearing the items that it contains hitting the floor. Your eyes widening looking back at him and see he's already staring at you with the same expression. You clear your throat and frantically start collecting the items. 

I'm crazy but not Bella crazy. You thought. 

As you watch him scroll through your social media, leaving likes accidentally, asking ‘who is this?” Every time someone comes up, you realize just  how funny this all is. Here you were hanging out with a vampire. You were sure you were gonna wake up at some point. 

“What year were you born?” He stops to look at you, thinking for a moment…

“I dont really remember…” His eyes dim, brows scrunch together. “I've been 22 for a while…” He clears his throat, “What about you? I mean, how old are you?” 

“I turned 22 a couple hours ago” 

He nods. 

“Its been awhile since I've been up again… this era feels different. Everything seems so…” 

“Boring? It might just be the town.” 

“No it just feels like something big is gonna happen, It makes me nervous.” 

“Oh… are there more of you?” Your phone is no longer on, his gaze intensifies. 

“Y-yes. Actually, it's getting late… You should head home.” He gets up as quickly as he can still groaning, probably the blood was still working its way through his system. 

“You're letting me go?” 

“Ofcourse, you saved my life.” 

You felt silly but couldn't help but ask. 

“Will I ever see you again?” He looks up at the trees, looking around like he’s keeping guard. 

“I don't know if that's a good idea…” 

“Well… you still owe me 60 bucks…” He laughs, and it makes him look the most human, even with the sharp teeth. 

“Okay. I'll be back with your money, but for now, let's get you home.” 

Luckily, the walk to your dorm was taking a bit longer than it usually did, both of your footsteps slowly making its way down the cemented path to the dorms. You still had so many questions, yet no way of framing them without coming across as nosy. You wanted to know more about him, why was he in this lousy college town, why doesn't he remember where he's from, who are the others and why did he look so nervous mentioning them. But instead, you had to start small, not wanting to bring up troubling thoughts. 

“What was your last year awake?” 

“Hmmm…guess?” He smirks and looks down at you, his hands locked behind him, holding on to the bag of steak juice that was probably a bit warm now. 

“Okay, well you knew about the telephone but they weren't wireless… and your steak prices were unimaginably low, but your denim fashion is throwing me off…Hmmm…” 

“Was denim a thing recently?” 

“Well, theyve always been a thing but jean vest give off 80’s or 90’s…Thats not my answer though!”

He's squinting his eyes at you, trying to force a smile down. 

“19…7…1?” 

“Ooo, close. 1965.” 

“damn…But the jean vest?!” 

“It was outta sight! All the rebels were wearing it!” 

“But, you don't seem like the rebel type, you're too nice.” 

“I dont know about nice…” he rubs the back of his neck, “but someone like me has to blend in.” 

“Hmm…” 

“What about you?”

“What about me?” 

“Are you a rebel?” Kai looks at you amused with a smile, and it only grows as you heat up.

“G-god no! I'm not built for that lifestyle.” It was true, you were weird but all you ever did was follow the rules, anything that felt mildly risky, threw you out for a loop. 

He laughs and nods. 

“I'm like that too.” 

“Yeah right…” 

“No really! I've never been good at being “bad”…maybe that's why I couldnt…you know…” Hes referring to the moment back in the woods. 

“Oh, yeah well, thanks for that.” 

“No, um thank you.” He remembers the look of curiosity upon your face as he sucked on the steak, the way your mouth hung open and your eyebrows furrowed together, your eyes displayed different emotions at a grand speed, he wasn't sure if you once ever looked disgusted, and he was glad he didn't.  He never wanted to be at the receiving end of it. 

You took your keys out. Looking back at him, you had one more question to ask…

“Have you ever…killed someone?” He stares at you, once again the intensity of his stare grows, like back when you asked if there were more of him. 

“...not directly… Ive…fed on them before but they were already dead.” He whispers and he looks so ashamed. 

“You really shouldn't be so trusting…” he wouldn't look at you anymore, “there's no way of knowing someone could be truly dangerous.” 

“I feel like I can trust you at least, right?” you wanted to touch his hand, reaching forward to grab it, and when Kai sees the mess of dry blood on it and on your sweater sleeve he grimaces, but grabs it. 

“You should head in and wash this off.” His cold hands linger on yours for a moment before he bends down and kisses your palm gently, squeezing his eyes shut trying to fight off the smell of your blood and the steak’s. 

You can't fight the blush that comes to your cheeks, so instead you turn to unlock your door. Once opened you turn in hopes of locking in the image of the shining man you've met.

“Goodni-” But he's gone, leaving no trace of himself behind, just the lingering feeling of his mouth on your wrist. 

—- 

Waking up the next morning, replaying the dream of Kai biting your wrist instead of kissing it over and over again, confirmed that last night was not a dream and you did in fact meet a vampire. Now the question was, Where was he now? What was he doing? 

“Y/N! Come quick!” your roommate, Chaewon, yells, panic laced in her cry. 

Your hair was still wet from last night's shower, not having the energy to blow dry it, you had placed it in a messy bun. You untangle your hair now from the band, and walk into the living room. 

BREAKING NEWS: Diner worker and college student, Lee Anton, found dead this morning by diner manager. As of now, Davenport College is working closely with police. While the autopsy has come back as an unknown death, police are not ruling out homicide- 

“What?” you whisper. Chaewon is already hanging on to you, shaking at the proximity of it. You didn't know Chaewon all that well, saying polite greetings and exchanges was as far as you went and yet you couldn't help but hold on to her as someone knocked on your door. 

Shaking, you head over and crack the door. 

“Hey, this was at the front door of the building, it was addressed to you.” The RA looked down at his hands and you followed. 

In his hand, was the grey glitter liquid encased in the glass vial, with it came a note: 

Y/N L/N, forgetting this?

A/N: YOU MADE IT!!!! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Please let me know your thoughts! I'll most likely continue this cause vampire kai has my attention rn... but I am starting school up again soon so,,, WHO KNOWS?! it also depends if people liked it :'3. SO please let me know your thoughts, tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, either way tears will be spilled! - J

ps. still learning how Tumblr works so if my formatting looks funny...help...

[were-all-idjits-here]

Accidental "I Love You"

Pairing: Sam Winchester x gender neutral reader Summary: While enlisting Sam's help to prank Dean, you may or may not blurt something out in the moment that seems to strike an unexpected chord with Sam. Warnings: some cussing; teeny, tiny bit of angst in that Sam and reader are two idiots who don't realize the other is in love with them. A/N: dipping my toe back into writing after some time off with this one. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

*

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam growled as the three of you returned to the motel room. He gestured for you to enter in front of him before slamming the door behind him and holding his hands out in a what the fuck gesture.

“Yeah, seriously,” you grumbled, taking your backpack—now full of loose Skittles thanks to the elder Winchester—towards one of the two beds in the room. “I don’t even like Skittles.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Dean said, just as irritated. “Look, I thought it was Sam’s backpack. It’s not my fault you two have the same one!”

You set your backpack down on Dean’s bed. “Mine’s blue!”

“Navy blue!” Dean corrected. “Sam’s is black, it looks…almost…the same.”

“No, it doesn’t!” you and Sam cry in unison. Although you were no stranger to watching the brothers’ prank war, they’d never targeted you. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t really a big deal; it wasn’t as if it was hot enough to melt the candy and create a sticky mess. But after that particular hunt, you just weren’t in the mood and appreciated Sam’s rage on your behalf.

Dean sighed. “Well, Y/N—I’m sorry. I was aiming for Sam and promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

You flopped down on the bed you and Sam had claimed. “Least you could do is buy us some grub.”

“If I go to that sandwich shop in town and get you a five-cheese grilled cheese, am I forgiven?”

“Only if you get the artichoke dip with it.”

“You got it. Sammy, I’ll get you…something much more boring, don’t worry.” With that, he fled from the room.

You sighed as the Impala’s engine growled to life outside, exchanging annoyed, drained glances with Sam as he sat down at the small, round table in the corner.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I can help you clean your bag out—”

“Nah.”  You stood and took the offending object from Dean’s bed. “Now that he’s gone, I’ve got a better idea.”  You ripped back the comforter (if it could be called that) off the bed before shoving back the top and fitted sheet, unzipping your backpack and upending it onto the mattress.

Sam laughed so hard, he scared you. You glanced over at him, smiling mischievously as you used your hands to spread the candy out more evenly.

“Well, here, at least get it across the whole bed in case he rolls.” Sam shot up out of his chair and tore the rest of the blankets and sheets off the mattress, helping you pour more Skittles until a fair amount covered the whole mattress.

You groaned as the two of you put the fitted sheet back on carefully over the minefield that was now Dean’s bed. “Oh god, the poor cleaning lady.”

Sam chuckled. “We’ve left behind worse messes, believe me—oh, actually…”

As you finished re-making the bed, Sam ran over to his backpack on the table and pulled out a whoopie cushion. He gave you a wicked grin as he grabbed the pillow off the side Dean usually slept on, stuffing it into the bottom of the case.

You cackled. “That’ll be right in his ear! He’s gonna go deaf!”

“Exactly.” Sam gave you a big, toothy grin and you couldn’t help but stare. He had such a nice smile that was so rarely on display, and you took pride in being one of the few to draw it out of him.

He stared back for a long moment before clearing his throat and putting his hands in his pockets. “You know this is gonna initiate you into the prank war now though, right? Dean won’t hold back.”

“Oh, I look forward to it.” You held out your hand across the bed. “We could be allies though and not tell Dean, really mess with his head. Truce?”

Sam smiled and shook your hand. “Truce.” He glanced back down at the bed. “You don’t happen to have any glue, do you?”

“Oh god, for what?”

He shrugged. “Could glue some Skittles to his stuff.” He joined you on your side of the bed to riffle through his duffle bag on the floor behind you. “Oh! I might have some superglue left from forever ago.”

“Do I even wanna know what you used that for?”

He pulled his bag up onto your shared bed and sat as he riffled through it. “We had a bit of a prank war a while back and I, uh…might’ve put super glue all over his beer bottle in a restaurant so he couldn’t put it back down.”

You threw your head back and laughed, giving Sam a playful shove to the shoulder. “Oh god, I love you.”

Sam’s head suddenly snapped up, the smile half-frozen on his face as he stared at you with a deer-in-the-headlights look. He gave you a breathy laugh before quickly returning his attention to his bag. “Uh…yeah, I—um…”

Your face fell. “Sam?”

“I’m okay,” he said a little too quickly before pulling a small tube out of one of his bag’s front pockets. “Ah, damn, it’s empty.”

Awkwardness still hung thick in the air, making you wonder if your joking I love you had revealed too much about how you actually felt. You suddenly felt a little dizzy at the thought of having just given yourself away only to have your and Sam’s friendship slowly start to crumble in the face of inevitable rejection. You two had always been close and even though the stares had been a little longer lately, if he felt the same about you, you would’ve known by now…right? And surely he wouldn’t have had that reaction just now.

You tried to hide the shakiness of your breath. “We’ll, uh…have to make sure we get more next time we’re at the store then.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you nervously before giving you a quick smile that disappeared in a hurry.

You hovered by him awkwardly for a few moments, trying to glance at him without catching his eye while he was suddenly very interested in the depths of his bag, empty superglue tube in hand.

“I’ll just—” he started.

“I’m gonna—”  you tried, beginning to move out of the aisle between beds towards the bathroom just as he stood up, bumping straight into you. With his speed and bulk, however, he almost knocked you over and quickly grabbed your forearms to stop you from tumbling back into the nightstand.

“Sorry!” he cried, finally meeting your gaze.

You had grabbed some of his shirt in your fists on instinct and for a moment, you stood transfixed again. Up close, his eyes really were pretty—they were so versatile: some days, they were a deep, dark brown that reminded you of chocolate and looked so warm and inviting, you wanted to just sink into him. Others, like today, flecks of green popped out in just the right lighting, reminding you of a sunflower field. You didn’t realize he was staring back at you with just as much intensity until his thumbs began rubbing gentle circles into your forearms.

You shook your head slightly to clear it. “I’m, ahem, gonna use the bathroom while it’s free.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! I—yeah!” He quickly let you go, stepping out of your way and gesturing for you to move first.

You quickly yanked a change of clothes out of your now clean bag before hurrying to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door and whatever had just happened away behind you.

Later that night, after you and Sam had already settled in bed, Dean finally emerged from the bathroom. Being on the side closest to his bed, you turned away to face Sam to hide your smile. You found him with his eyes open as well, biting his lip to avoid laughing.

Dean made a contented sigh as you heard the covers thrown back, followed by several cracking and popping noises, then the loud flbbbpppppttttt of the whoopie cushion. “Son of a bitch! Oh, god, ow—fuck—what the hell!”

You covered your mouth with your hand in a vain attempt to hide your laughs, seeing Sam do the same out of the corner of your eye.

“I know you two assholes are awake,” Dean grumbled before climbing back out of bed and checking under the fitted sheet. “Oh, this is war, Y/N.”

“Enjoy your Skittle bed, dickhead,” you said over your shoulder, pulling a loud guffaw from Sam.

“I’m sleeping on the damn couch,” Dean muttered before you heard him move across the room.

You closed your eyes, smiling to yourself, and tried to focus on evening out your breathing. After several minutes, right before you crossed the threshold of sleep, you could’ve sworn you felt warm fingers brushing your cheek.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

С Hello, hello, dear author, I am so addicted to your works that I can fully say that you are simply the best writer I have ever seen, I simply melt from your works related to Baldwin,Seriously!I would like to read something sad, so I would like to ask you to write something sad, where Baldwin and Y/N They are married, everything is fine with them, but one day Y/n became terribly ill with some kind of disease,it soon becomes clear that this is a dangerous disease and unfortunately Y/n dies, and Baldwin is saddened and broken.

)(English is not my native language, so I apologize for the mistakes and thank you in advance author!)!!

♧ Everything Is Worse Now - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello dear Sevina!! I am so greatful for your support and your such kind words, you have no idea how much they mean to me🫶. Thank you so much for this beautiful and sad request, it was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy it!! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

P.S. Im sorry this is so short, I wanted it to be more like a uhh poem kind of I guess?? Like short and sweet yk?? Idk if I'm making any sence but I hope you all enjoy!! Also SORRY FOR ALL THE ANGST. Next one will be fluffy I prommise 😭😭

TW: Death, Disease, Leprosy, Not a happy ending

It was an abnormally cold evening when it began.

The queen's condition had been faltering for a few days now, but she merely brushed it off as fatigue. Things had been stressful with the threat of invasion any day now, it was only natural to feel exhausted at times such as these.

Nevertheless, the young king was deeply concerned about his wife.

“Please my love, I need you to see one of my physicians. It could be serious-”

“Darling, I can assure you that I am perfectly fine. Truely, there is no need to fret, you have enough to be worried about. Please don't let my condition weigh on your mind” she had told him, taking his hands in hers with that gentle firmness that he so adored.

It only became worse from there. Baldwin had been attending a meeting when he received news that y/n had collapsed while walking the gardens.

He abandoned the meeting in a second and used every ounce of his strength to climb the stairs to the royal chambers where he was met with the horrific sight of his beautiful wife, pale and weak, laying atop their shared bed with physicians working at her side.

He staggered to her side, about to collapse himself, and took her hand pressing it to the cool metal of his mask.

The familiar sensation caused y/n to open her eyes to look at her husband.

She smiled weakly.

“Perhaps I should have been checked out sooner hm?” she chuckled.

Baldwin couldn't help but smile sadly. Even in the darkest times she always managed to make him smile.

Naturally, the young king assumed the worst possible scenario: That his vile disease had been passed to his beautiful wife.

He could barely think of the possibility without breaking down right there and then so he attempted to keep his mind away from the idea.

“My lord?” a physician spoke gently beside him.

Baldwin looked up at the young man expectantly, “may I speak with you a moment?” the physician asked.

The king nodded, giving y/n one last look before walking towards the door.

“Do you know what could be wrong?” he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

“We have a fair idea, my lord. Her symptoms match that of the flu. It is a European disease, this is all we know so far”.

Baldwin's heart sank and felt relieved at the same time.

On one hand, his worst fear had not come true and his perfect wife had not been tainted by his vile flesh. But on the other hand, she was still very ill with a disease he had only read about in books.

He felt light headed but was determined to stay on his feet. He had to be strong for her. 

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

Her condition worsened further from that day onwards, as did the rumours in the castle.

Guy was of the firm belief that Baldwin had contaminated the queen with his vile disease and all of his followers and friends were of the same view.

Baldwin himself avoided everyone and everything that wasn't y/n.

Despite the warnings from the physicians that she may pass her disease onto him, thus killing him faster, he didn't care.

“I'm dying anyway, what's the point in avoiding it if she’s not going to be by my side in a few weeks” he told them.

They spent every moment together, taking in their last few days by each other's sides. Y/n could barely move and her fever made her weak but Baldwin could not care any less.

He read to her, prayed over her and spoke of his days to her, even if she didn't have the strength to reply.

This was exactly what she had promised to do for him in his last days, it didn't seem right to be the other way around. They even continued to sleep side by side. Just as if nothing happened at all.

When y/n would wake in the night, brought to consciousness by the low grade fever, she would admire her sleeping husband.

“I’m so sorry” she would whisper.

“I'm so sorry that I have to leave you. It wasn't supposed to be like this”.

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

It wasn't until another abnormally cold morning that Baldwin opened his eyes to find her stiff with the icy touch of death.

He sat up and wept at the sight until physicians came to take him to another room. Baldwin was simply inconsolable and he stayed that way for days.

He became a shell of a man. Refusing to leave his chambers or even eat.

“You must snap out of this and tend to your kingdom” Sybilla had told him.

“The land will be in ruins if you continue like this-”

“I care not for the land any longer!” he snapped.

“Let your foul husband have it to himself for all I care” he said with a wave of his hand as he began to cry again.

Sybilla put a hand on her brother's back, “just because she is gone doesn't mean you must go with her” she said gently.

“I see no use in living if she can't be by my side. I'm dying anyway Sybilla, the future of the kingdom matters not to me. Let Tiberias take care of my duties while I am here. Just go and pretend as though I am dead already” he looked at her through the holes in the mask, those blue eyes that used to be so filled with happiness when he was a child were now empty and red with tears.

“I can't leave you like this Baldwin” she whispered, pulling him into a hug.

He closed his eyes and for a moment imagined that it was y/n hugging him instead.

“She would have wanted you to be strong and go on. To lead the kingdom as you did when she lived” Sybilla said, not knowing if her words were even getting through to him or not.

Baldwin sighed.

“I'll do my best, dear sister”

[hxbromqnia]

To everyone who hasn’t blocked me yet (hehe),

Hi. So, first of all, sorry for spamming your dash with my emotional posts and for turning it into my personal therapy session. I know it’s been a lot, and maybe even a bit much to handle. I’m just really hurt, lost, and trying to deal with everything going on in my head right now. Writing is how I cope, even if it comes out a little (or a lot) chaotic.

Truth is, I’ve been hurt, lost, and, honestly, just yapping everything into this account because it feels slightly better than yelling into my pillow. But I realize I might’ve accidentally dragged you all into my drama. My bad.

That said, thank you. Seriously, thank you for sticking around, for reading my chaos, and especially for those of you who sent kind words or checked in. You didn’t have to, but you did, and that’s kind of amazing. You’re like the emotional support squad I didn’t know I needed.

I’ll try to calm down (eventually), but for now, just know that I appreciate you putting up with me. You’re all legends.

Okay, back to being a little less dramatic (maybe).

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

write more aaron warner you're amazing 🫶

took me long enough but omgggg I got this req done!! thank you so much for you compliment and your request!! I hope you enjoy 🤍🤍 and in all seriousness i am really grateful for your patience with these requests, I realise that it’s taken me far too long to get around to doing them!!

title: you’re not him

pairing: aaron warner x reader

synopsis: something’s off with aaron but he won’t tell you what…

warnings:

a/n: thank you so much for reading 🤍🤍

taglist: @wish-i-were-heather @midiosaamor @fleuriosa @maybxlle @whatsamongus @elysianwayy77 @lovethornes @emelia07 @inmyheaddd @sweetreveriee @azysmate @anintellectualintellectual @off-to-the-r4ces @hermesenthusiast

By the time I’d gotten out of the shower, Aaron still wasn’t out of his office. He’d been there for hours, hunched over the same piece of paper. A little worried, I go to check on him, walking in to find him sitting there, so upright it look like a type of victorian punishment, pen down, staring out into the distance. My footsteps echo down the walkway but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Aaron, love,” I murmur gently, my voice a tender, steady hum over the soft silence.

He doesn’t respond and just stares forwards, lost in a hypnosis of his own thoughts. I’ve seen him like this before and I know it’s not a good thing.

“Aaron,” I say again, a little louder and slightly more urgent.

“Hmmm,” he hums in response not even meeting my eye.

The worry in the pit of my stomach only blossoms like a cherry tree in the springtime, with coiling, twisting branches of anxiety, flowering the most delicate petals of panic.

I chew the inside on my cheek, “what’s wrong?” I dare to ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, his voice distant like he wasn’t quite in the room with me.

“Aaron,” I whisper, sliding my hands up his back slowly with the gentlest fingers, only to stop at his shoulders to massage the tension knots out.

“Yes love,” he says to me, avoiding my gaze even though I know he can feel it burning a hole in the back of his skull.

“Talk to me,” I urge him in barely a whisper.

He shakes away my touch and my hands fall slack to my sides, weighted with rejection.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he sighs, standing up, his back to me.

I inhale deeply. I don’t want to get emotional because usually I’m not, but something about this cold, distant manor struck something in my chest.

“Aaron please,” I say, stepping in front of him, placing one hand on his chest. There’s a rawness to my voice that makes my throat ache, “you have to stop shutting me out, I thought we got past this.”

“You should go and rest,” he murmurs finally meeting my eyes, as he puts his hands on my rounded belly.

I understand now why he refused to look at me for so long. His eyes speak words he has no control over. Deep in the green lies all his pain. Whatever is going through his mind isn’t pleasant.

Still, my specification to address the matter is still being turned down. He’s completely avoiding the subject matter, as if the words never left my lips. He used to be like this all the time, closing me off, locking himself away, drowning in his own issues, refusing to even touch the lifeline bobbing on the surface for him to hold onto.

Aaron had always been stubborn, he didn’t want help. He’d rather stay silent and carry his own burden, rather torment himself into an unhealthy state than ask. Good damage, he used to call it. But once, it got too much and he finally let me in and he made a promise. He promised he wouldn’t go back to way he was. Not with me.

I fold my arms and pin my eyes to his, “I won’t rest until you tell me what’s wrong.”

An ultimatum. I need his attention.

“I promise, love, I’m perfectly happy,” he lies, with a forged smile, “I have you and our beautiful, beautiful child that you’re carrying, what more could I want?”

It’s not the lie that hurts, it’s not even how easily he managed it. It’s the fact he feels he has to lie to me, to hide from me.

“I can feel it when you’re not right you know,” I whisper, touching my heart, “in here.”

He looks at me, his emerald eyes burn. For a moment his expression softens, he breathes a little. He’s less chief commander and more the Aaron I know. The kind man, with soft eyes, gentle hands and sweet lips. The man who would burn the world for me or stand by my side as I burnt it. My Aaron. Then something shifts, a bitter frost comes in and sends an icy sheet all over.

“I need to shower,” he says quickly, “get some sleep, love, you look tired.”

I could’ve stayed there and argued. I wanted to, but he turned away too fast predicting my next move. I run my fingertips over my bump and sigh. He’s right, I am tired. I just hate it when he wasn’t okay, in fact I can’t bear it. It’s as if someone iswas torturing me, burning me alive, scraping my skin off a centimetre at a time, plucking my eyeballs out.

I walk to our bedroom slowly, pushing down my annoyance in the helplessness I feel. If he doesn’t talk, I can’t read his mind, I can’t know his problem, I can’t help. I get into bed, slipping under the covers but not laying down quite yet.

I listen for the shower running but don’t hear a sound, only the soft sloshing of bath water. Aaron bathes when he is stressed, so this only confirmed further that something was playing on his mind.

I try to wrack my fogged mind for what it could be. His work in rebuilding our government had been extensive and stressful but he had never caved under that sort of pressure before. He usually thrived under it. This was something else, I am almost sure of it. But what else? Is it something I’ve done? As far as couples go, I’d always thought we’d handled problems well but maybe he did have a problem with me, maybe I’d done something wrong…

I’m suddenly aware of the bathroom door opening, interrupting my train of thought, as its light shines into the bedroom. Aaron walks in and I can tell he’s caught off guard with the fact that I’m awake. Something between alarm and shock splashes through his eyes for a fraction of a second as he approaches. His eyebrows slowly draw inwards, pinching together in concern.

“You’re still awake, love?” he asks me.

I hum in reply.

“Why do you feel guilty?” Aaron says suddenly, going very still.

I sometimes forget he can feel what I feel, “have I done something?” I reply, “is that why you’re acting off?”

His face breaks into a sad sort of smile, “no, not you, never you.”

I rest my head back on the headboard, fighting with droopy eyelids to keep myself awake. I don’t push him any further, as long as it wasn’t my doing, I would wait for him to be ready to tell me.

He slips into the bed beside me and holds my cheek in one hand, his thumb gently brushing just under my eyes. I melt into his touch, the exhaustion getting stronger and stronger by the second.

“Oh love,” he murmurs, his voice so tender it makes my hearts ache.

I smile tiredly letting the weight of my head fall into his palm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes pinned to me roaming over my every feature as if it were the most mesmerising sight he’d ever seen, “so so beautiful.”

“Hold me,” I mumble into his warm skin, craving his touch, to be in his arms.

“Of course,” he says, enveloping his arms around me and tucking me into his chest, hiding me away from the rest of the world.

I breathe him in, the warmth of his skin on mine, our hearts thumping to the same beat. I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, my face buried in his skin. I feel myself grow heavier, less alert as I match my breathing to his.

“Do you want to lay down?” he whispers, probably noticing how my limbs growing heavy.

I hesitate for a moment.

“I won’t let go,” he says, reading my mind, “I promise, I only suggested it because it might make it easier for you to sleep that way.”

I don’t want to sleep, not really. There’s still a part of me that wants to know what’s wrong but my body can only fight the exhaustion for so long. Still, I am committed to stay awake just a little longer.

We lay down together, his arms still around me. I’m cocooned in his body. His hand meet at the bottom of my swollen belly, holding my bump with the utmost care, as if it were the most delicate thing on this universe. His chest is pressed firmly against my back, warm and protective as his legs intertwine themselves with mine. I can feel his slow and steady breathing on the back of my neck, tickling me slightly. The silence between us is heavy and makes my ears ache for sound but I couldn’t think of the right thing to say.

“I’m sorry,” he says, a little strained, in a low voice as if the noise was coming from the back of his throat.

Confusions washes a tidal wave over me, “what are you apologising for?”

I don’t get a response for a long while. I almost think he’s fallen asleep, after his breathing slows. His heart beat a little faster than usual against my back, my only indication that he’s working himself up to admit something. Something that makes him nervous to say out loud. I wait, giving him the time to form the words and the courage to say them.

“I find it hard to talk,” he begins slowly. I can hear each syllable is a struggle for him to say.

“I know,” I murmur, bringing his hands to my lips. I kiss them both gently to silently tell him that I am here to listen when he is ready. He doesn’t have to tell me tonight, or tomorrow night, or even the night after. However long he needed, I would wait for. He understands what I’m saying without me having to even say the words. And still he chooses to whisper seven words into my ear.

“I don’t want to let you down.”

It takes me by surprise. Aaron Warner is not a man to doubt himself, least of all doubt himself and blatantly admit it.

“Aaron what are you talking about?” I ask, rolling over so our noses touch, “you could never let me down.”

“No,” he murmurs shakily, something between pain and fear clouding over his emerald eyes, “listen love, I don’t want to mess things up.”

“Mess what up?” I say softly, my brows pinched with a gentle confusion, “tell me, explain to me.”

“I…” he falters, “…can’t.”

I take my palms to his face and hold him.

“I have seen every part of you,” I tell him, “your worst and your very best, I’m no stranger to the bad parts, so let me help you, let me in, please Aaron.”

Silence hangs in the empty space, never tiring of the wait, never growing impatient.

“I’m scared, love,” he responds finally, his voice so small I barely register it when he speaks, “I’m so so scared.”

“Scared?”

The question slips my lips before my brain has a chance to suppress it. I hadn’t meant to be so blunt. Aaron had never once, in our whole relationship, before and after marriage admitted that sentence aloud. Even when he’d looked the most petrified, physically shaking, a deathly pale, he didn’t say it.

So why now?

“I’m not going to do this right,” he continues, his words sharp and frantic, “I’m not going to be a good enough father, I’m going to ruin this child like my father ruined me, I wasn’t taught how to be a good father, I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m going to mess everything up.”

My heart shatters on the spot. It splits into a million tiny shards that hit the inner walls of my chest like shrapnel.

“Oh Aaron,” I melt, “you don’t need to be taught anything, you’re already the best man I’ve ever met, you’re not ruined at all. And you will be a good father no matter who your father was.”

“What if I become him?” he asks me, his eyes wild with panic, “worse than him?”

I wish in that moment that I’d been the one to kill his father. I would’ve made it the most excruciating experience on this planet. He would’ve been sorry before he went six feet under because no man deserves this torture, especially not Aaron. How dare the monster that called himself a father haunt his soul from the grave. It’s not right. It’s not fair.

“You won’t,” I tell him, “I know it.”

“You can’t be sure of something like that,” he replies, shaking his head, doubting all he is, all he’s accomplished, all his goodness.

I only wish he could see himself the way I see him. Maybe then he might understand.

“But I am,” I say, my voice more raw, more passionate. I know he can feel my emotions, I know he can feel the strong belief I have in him, the love that overpowers my senses. “Look at me Aaron, I know you and you are the furthest thing from the person that man was. You are going to be amazing at this and this baby is going to be so lucky and so so loved.”

He stares at me.

“I’ve never been more in love with you than I am right now,” he murmurs into my lips, kissing me slowly, passionately, longingly.

“And I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you than I am right now,” I reply as he draws soft circles with him thumb on my stomach.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “thank you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t thank me for telling you the truth,” I reply, “and for the record you deserve every inch of me.”

“Sleep, love,” Aaron tells me gently, holding me tenderly in his arms, with a small smile on his lips, “and I’ll be here when you wake up, always.”

So I stop fighting my tired eyes and finally gave in, letting the night take me as her child, as I fall asleep in Aaron’s arms.

sorry for the lack of fics 😭😭 school has literally taken it out of me this week anywayysss thanks for reading!!

shatter me masterlist

[haleswallows]

coming at you live, with a news series.... Promises, Promises

Part 1: Cross My Heart (Hope to Die) Fandom: DC x DP Crossover Pairing: Dead Tired (Danny Fenton/Tim Drake) Rating: Teen

Teaser:

"Are you really doing the 'FBI, this is our case now' shtick? What are you, a cop?"

Phantom makes a retching sound. "Sorry, reflex. Any sort of implication I'm government adjacent, can't help it."

"You know being Justice League makes you government adjacent," Red Robin helpfully points out. He weighs a net-launcher in his hand. "If not affiliated with the UN, the League works with the organization often to be called an ally."

"Not me," Phantom says with cheer, pushing a narrow cylinder towards him. "That's essentially a light saber, by the way. Nah, they keep me pretty far from the UN shit. I'm not built for it. I'm there to hit things real hard and share tech."

A light saber? Hell yeah. Tim grabs it and wonders if he can keep it.

"Can I keep it?" he blurts out, because why not?

Shrugging, Phantom says, "Sure, I have like five more. This one is green, but I think I can change the color. Red would match your like —," he waves expansively at Red Robin, "Vibes and aesthetic. Very cool branding, by the way. The cape is dope."

Huh. Tim didn't expect the compliment. He chooses to ignore it, mostly because he just doesn't know what to say in response. 'Thanks, I like your cyber-gothic vibes too'?

"Green's fine, I always wanted to be a Jedi." A red light saber would infinitely more on brand, but Tim would never consider being a Sith. Wait, absolutes. Shit.

It fits perfectly next to his bo staff on his bandoleer. Which, sick and feels like a divine happenstance, as if Red Robin was meant to have the energy blade. He helps Phantom reload the bag, though the ghost keeps the thermos out before pushing the entire duffle back inside his chest.

God, that's even weirder up close. Tim examines Phantom's torso, mind spinning through possibilities on how it works.

"Alright," Phantom's voice breaks his concentration, Red Robin snapping to attention. A truly feral grin spreads across Phantom's face as he lifts into the air, hair swirling and catching the last dredges of sunlight. "Let's go ghost hunting."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

They're wrapping up in one of Tim's more 'civilian' passing safe-houses. Mostly because it was the closest, and Phantom said something about 'ley lines' and 'easier to open a portal'. Cool, whatever. Tim wanted to burn this safe-house soon anyway.

Tim, as always, gets himself into trouble. Chronic Thinking Too Much Disease, they really ought to make a cure for it. He reflects, paused in the middle of writing the report and watching Phantom eat Cheerios right out of the box. Phantom perches on the counter, looking like he belongs there, shoveling cereal into his mouth with the relic sitting innocently at his hip.

When the fuck did Tim get Cheerios?

There's no denying it. Tim likes working with Phantom. The guy is good in a fight, doesn't rely on his powers too much, and kept up with Tim. Not just physically, but intellectually. And he's shockingly earnest when he isn't being a trash-talking little shit.

So. Tim gets an idea.

"Hey," he says before he's even thoroughly thought it out, "we should date."

Phantom pauses, gloved hand suspended in the middle of shoving another handful of cereal into his mouth, wide eyed and gaping. Attractive.

"Huh?" he says eloquently.

"Not for real," Tim scrambles to explain. "I mean fake dating. Just hang around some, be a bit performative, nothing out of masks. We can say we're taking things slow and break up amicably. Nightwing keeps trying to set me up with a date. This will get him off my case."

"Oooooh." Phantom resumes inhaling cereal. Why a ghost needs to eat, Tim would like to know, but it's probably rude to ask. Slowly chewing, Phantom seriously thinks it over. "You know, the council has been bugging me, too. About dating. This could work out for both of us."

Council? Tim would like to know why a council is interested in Phantom dating. So he asks.

Phantom sighs explosively. Finally, he sets the Cheerios down. "OK, so like, this is need to know basis only. I haven't even disclosed it to the League. And like, Nightwing only knows because he's my friend and the Observants crashed one of our missions and outed me. Hard to lie about why a floating eyeball showed up to demand I actually show up to the next council meeting, instead of blowing them all off again to play heroes with my living friend."

Pulling a face, Phantom waves an arm in an arc over his head. A crown appears, spinning and shooting off beams of light like an Aurora Borealis.

Tim doesn't gape, because Red Robin doesn't gape. But, you know, that's unexpected.

"I'm the Ghost King. It's a whole thing, no I am not taking questions on it at this time. Well, technically, I'm the Prince of the Infinite Realms because I'm too young to take the throne. So, there's a council and a regent. Whatever, not important!"

Phantom claps, getting himself back on track. "What that means is there's a council and Observants that are really interested in my personal shit. Including who I date. But like, I'm enjoying my brat girl summer and being single right now, not that they care."

Tim blinks. Then blinks again, slotting the new information in place alongside everything he knows about Phantom. That's... something.

"That sounds annoying," Tim says, instead of one of the approximately 23 questions in his head that are quickly spawning more by the second. "Fake dating would solve both of our problems."

Because Tim is a professional, they make a contract.

Phantom watches with great interest as Tim bustles around the apartment, setting up shop at the kitchen table. He doesn't think he's ever actually sat at this table. Mostly, he's used this apartment to sleep, a crash-out spot that has a nicer bed and isn't as sparse as the other Bat-affiliated safe houses.

As soon as Tim sits, stretching out his wrists, Phantom kicks off from the counter to hover around Tim's shoulders. The box of Cheerios balances precariously on the ghost's stomach. Tim eyes it briefly. Then sets to it.

"So, uh," Phantom starts, arms folded behind his head. "How casual is 'casual'?" Under the weight of Tim's judging eyebrows, Phantom defends himself. "I'm just asking! Like, how far are we both willing to go to sell it? Are we exclusive? Facebook official?"

"Facebook official," Tim echoes, typing. "Christ, is anyone Facebook official? Do ghosts have Facebook?"

"I don't know, I could get one. If, like, you think it'd help." Absurd, this entire thing is absurd. But they're here and committed to the bit. Or committing to the bit. There's 'selling it', and then there's…. whatever Phantom is saying. Facebook, what year is it?

"Red Robin doesn't have a Facebook, and I refuse to make one." Tim barely manages to keep from sounding snide.

"I won't mog on you referring to yourself in the person, even though I'm really tempted." How gracious. "Alright, so just. Seeing each other, feeling it out, not seeing other people."

[pinkmirth]

thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. “but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ❤︎

[leapingbadger]

One of Us

This is a gift for @lonewolflupe for the @galactic-gift-gathering. A bit of Bad Batch downtime fluff. I hope you like it!

This will likely be my last gift, but I've loved writing for these prompts and seeing what everyone else came up with. Thanks so much to the organizers for putting this together! hope to take part again next year!

Beautiful Batch banner by @blackseafoam

Read on AO3

“No, I do not think it should go there, Echo.” Tech said pointedly.

“Give it to me,” Crosshair said, snatching the brush out of his new brother’s hand.

“Crosshair, it was my turn.” Tech protested with a scowl.

“Actually, it was mine,” Echo’s deep voice said as he watched the commotion with a wry smile.

“You take too long, Reg. Look, there…”

“No, you did it wrong, give it to me.” Tech said, leaning over his brother’s arm, reaching for his right hand and the brush clasped hard within it.

“Get off me,” Crosshair hissed, his left knee kicking out at his brother’s ribs to keep him at bay.

“If you bite me again, Crosshair I promise you will not be prepared for the consequences.” Tech spat.

“Fella’s, Theres plenty of time. Tech, get off of Cross. Cross, give Echo back the brush. It’s his armor, it can look how he wants.”

Tech settled back on the floor with a huff, adjusting his goggles that had been pushed sideways on his face. Crosshair reluctantly handed the paint brush back to Echo, his scowling face not leaving Hunter’s gaze. Echo gave the Sergeant an appreciative nod as he methodically carried on with his task.

The Marauder had been covered in pots of paint and pieces of wet armor for the last few hours. Clone Force 99 had been waiting for their new orders after their second successful mission as a squad of five. Hunter grinned as he watched his brothers clustered on the grated floor, dabbing at bits of plastoid.

The requisition had finally come in for Echo’s new and improved armor. With some suggestions from Tech and quite a bit of tinkering, the plastoid fit perfectly around his cybernetic enhancements, if you could call them that. The white armor of the GAR, however, wouldn’t really work with the squad’s aesthetic, which Crosshair had been quick to point out.

“You look like a reg.” he had said, hand on his hip, toothpick hanging languidly in the corner of his mouth.

“I am a reg, Crosshair.” Echo said calmly, looking down at the shiny white armor.

“Not anymore,” he said, reaching into a storage compartment on the ship, removing a small pot, and smearing a large black stain on the chest of the brand-new armor.

“Was that really necessary?” Echo asked, his large amber eyes rolling in frustration.

Crosshair smirked and handed him the paint, “yes.” He said, before collapsing into a nearby chair.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for the rest of the brothers to get involved. All offering their advice on design ideas.

“How about a giant skull in the middle of your chest. ‘Cos you faced death and survived,” Wrecker said enthusiastically.

“Erm,” Echo started before being interrupted by Tech.

“I do not think Echo needs a giant skull to remind him of his ordeal, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, that’d be like Tech having a datapad painted on his chest,” Crosshair said sarcastically.

“And what would you have? A toothpick?” Tech said with a sideways look to his silver haired brother.

Hunter chuckled before his brothers rounded on him.

“What about Hunter?” Wrecker asked with a smile.

“Hunter has already fully committed to the squad by having our emblem tattooed on his face. Anything more and it may come off as parody,” Tech said seriously.

“Or stupidity,” Cross followed up.

“Need I remind you, Cross, that you were planning on getting the same tattoo on the opposite side of your face, until you backed out at the last minute?” Hunter teased.

“Only ‘cos I saw how stupid it looked on you.” The youngest brother spat.

“It’s better than the stick and poke you ended up with.” Hunter said with a chuckle.

Crosshair crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, heat climbing to his cheeks.

“Aw, you’ve hurt his feelings now,” Wrecker called from the far end of the ship.

“Grow up, Wrecker.” Crosshair hissed.

“Aw do you need a hug from Lula to cheer you up?” Wrecker asked teasingly, on his feet with his tooka doll in his shovel sized fist.

“Get away from me with that. I don’t need a doll.” Crosshair said, hands up in defense as his enormous brother tiptoed around the pots of paint to smash the toy in his brother’s face.

“I told you. She’s. A. Stuffy.” Wrecker said with a chuckle, smacking Crosshair across the face with every punctuated word.

Hunter stole a look at Echo, giving him an apologetic shrug as his brothers descended into chaos. After a quick mele, a few knocked over pots of paint and Hunter threatening to trap them in binders together until they sorted things out, Wrecker and Crosshair settled back on the floor to finish up the final touch ups on their armor.

They looked comfy in their blacks and he smiled thinking back to their time as cadets and the late night slumber parties they’d have after lights out, blankets spread over their room to make a fort, string lights Wrecker had made suspended from a pully system of Tech’s own invention. Hunter would smuggle snacks from the mess while Tech read them stories he’d found on the holonet.

“I need the red,” Wrecker barked from the far end near the gunner’s mount, “who’s got the red?”

“Here you go.” Echo said, putting on the lid and throwing it like a thermal detonator down the end of the ship.

Wrecker caught it easily in one hand and started dabbing and the blood red of his helmet, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he did so.

“Do ya think I should add some blood on the teeth?” Wrecker asked the room at large.

“I do not think you need to strive to look any more intimidating than you already do. A separatist wet himself at the site of you a few days ago.” Tech said seriously, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

Hunter chuckled and finally sat down between Crosshair and Echo, the former shifting away, likely harboring resentment that Hunter would pay for later.

Echo held up his chest plate, running his hand over the black paint tentatively. He lunged to his left to take the white paint from Tech. His left hand hung suspended over the right side of the plate.

“Need a hand?” Hunter asked quietly.

Echo smiled, casting a quick look at the other brothers, momentarily distracted by the red paint spilling dangerously close to Lula.

“Quick, move her, move her” Wrecker cried, leaning over Tech to get to her in time.

“Thanks” Echo said looking embarrassed “…it…ah…I’m not really left-handed…” he said, a faint pink stain coloring his sharp cheekbones.

Hunter smiled and took the chest plate, “Don’t worry about it. I painted the other skulls too.” He said with a nod to his brothers’ armor littering the ship.

Echo grinned, “I guess it makes sense that you’re the resident skull expert with the…ah…tattoo…”

Hunter shrugged, unashamed, “I drew it when we were cadets. I just kind of stuck, I guess.” He said.

“What about the 99?” Echo asked, curiosity finally getting the best of him, “did you know him?”

Hunter closed his eyes and sighed, smiling as he thought about his older brother. “Yeah, we knew him. He…ah…kind of adopted us…kept an eye on us, when he could. You know. He was like that. Kind.”

Echo smiled back, “Yeah, I know. I fought with him. I watched him…I was with him. When he died.”

Hunter’s eyes flicked to the others before boring into Echo’s amber gaze. “I know.” he said quietly, dabbing gently at the armor as he completed his first pass at the white skull. “I read the report. After he died.” He felt his shoulders slump and tried to pull them back, to pull himself back from the memories.

“How’d you get hold of that? I thought all reports on the attack on Kamino were sealed?” Echo said, his voice full of admiration.

Hunter chuckled and nodded to his brother, “there’s nothing Tech can’t get into. We… we needed to know. ‘Cos we weren’t here to help, you know. We were off world. Training.”

Echo nodded his understanding.

Hunter took a deep breath and Echo paused, perhaps expecting some deep, emotional revelation but he just blew on the white paint on the armor before handing it back to his new brother.

“Want to add anything else?” he asked.

Echo paused, resting the chest plate on his scomp and running his left hand over the left side.

“I dunno, maybe a handprint?”

“A handprint?” Hunter asked, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

Echo laughed, “it’s a throwback from my first mission. Rex put a handprint of eel blood on my armor to make a point. I kept it. Had him do it with paint when I became an ARC.”

Hunter laughed, “Hey Tech, any idea where Captain Rex is right now?”

Tech adjusted his goggles, putting down his paint brush and picking up his datapad, never too far from his hand.

“Hmm…It appears he is on a classified assignment with General Skywalker.”

Echo smiled, “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you should do it.” he said, offering his chest plate back to Hunter.

The Sergeant stiffened, taking hold of it tentatively. “Are you sure? I’m no Captain Rex” he said.

“You got that right!” Crosshair hissed.

“Hey, be nice” Wrecker said with a playful bonk to his youngest brother’s shoulder from the back of the ship, Lula crammed into the neck of his blacks to keep her away from the paint.

“You’re my new boss. Makes sense to me” he said with a shrug.

Hunter looked back into Echo’s eyes, they seemed to glow in the low light of the ship, impossibly so. Hunter took off his right glove, carefully painting the palm of his hand in red paint and kneeling in front of the chest plate on the floor.

The other brothers had stopped what they were doing to watch, and Hunter felt their eyes on him. He looked up at Echo one last time before turning the chest plate over and placing his handprint on the inside.

“What are you doing?” Echo asked as Hunter used his left hand to press down on his right.

“Saving room for the Captain” he said quietly, pulling away his hand to reveal a blood red print, “it’ll be the best of both worlds. You can have Rex do it when we see him next.”

Echo picked up the armor and looked at it closely. “I like that idea,” he said, handing the chest plate to Tech and reaching to shake Hunter’s hand. “Thanks, Sarg.”

“Welcome to the Squad, Echo.” he said.

[monstersholygrail]

I’m obsessed with your free use city fics😍😍

AHHAJDJSJDB Wow, thank you so much!!!

I seriously freaking love that everyone enjoyed them so much. It’s cool because it was an event you could be a part of and enjoy in the moment. But then after it’s after you still get to read the results of it and see what people voted for at the time and you also kinda know what to expect going into the next part

I will never tire raving about how much fun it was and how much I loved doing it

Plus, everything that came from it! Literally a whole universe, a whole city worth of characters, lore, and endless possibilities. There’s sooooo much to write about in this universe, a ton of stuff to explore, and very delicious details to think about. I can’t wait to expand on it even more and create more free use city fics

If anyone has any questions or ideas, please send em into my inbox! It’ll be great to see what more could be added :)