#somehow I have a brain full of thoughts for this au but at the same time I can’t think of anything

[x1ao-yuu]

Pjmoon honkai au white comet Kiana doodle ^-^

[minhosimthings]

Sample Session || 18+

Synopsis: In which you ask your boyfriend for a semen sample

Pairings: Sunghoon × fem!reader, non idol au

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex (not for you at all) masturbation (male), spit as lubricant, praise, degradation, swearing, rough dom Sunghoon, sub!reader, reader wears pink lingerie, boob fixation, dirty talk eyyy, collecting semen in that tube because we medical students, mentions of Yunjin from Le Sserafim and Gaeul from IVE

A/N: this is my submission for @deluluriddhi's 500+ followers event which you can find here! Had a shit ton of fun writing this though so here you go babies!

Being a doctor has its advantages.

You get to help people, you get a shit ton of money (student debt sucks but hey), you get a hot boyfriend, you can correctly pronounce and know the meaning of choledocholithiasis.

Did I mention hot boyfriend?

Park Sunghoon. Possibly the hottest and the only surgeon-in-training you'd ever want to have inside of you all day long.

Of course the walls still speak of the times he railed you in the room where they kept the crp training dolls, but we don't speak about that anymore.

But one of the greatest advantages of having a Park Sunghoon, as you soon found out, was that he proved useful in a quest.

For a particularly awkward thing.

"Sperm samples?" Yunjin gasped, almost spilling her coffee on you, "we have to collect sperm samples?"

"For the last time, yes." Gaeul groaned, massaging her temples, Yunjin had been asking the same thing since the past hour.

"How on earth are we going to get semen samples?" Yunjin asked, turning to you for some reason.

"Alright ladies, time to seduce some men." Gaeul laughed, sipping her frappuccino.

"Y/N already seduced one." Yunjin groaned, deflating her body onto the table, "Hey, get some for us too will you?"

"Number 1, we need to have different samples, and number two how the hell am I gonna ask him?" You quizzed the girls, who looked dumbfounded.

"Maybe..you know." Yunjin began, and you realised she had the same face on as she did whenever she saw the extremely phallic design of the law building at your college, "Just do the oogey-boogey with him."

Gaeul's frappucino can spit out her nose, as she cackled loudly, garnering the attention of many people in the cafe.

"The oogey-boogey YUNJIN WHAT?" Gauel kept laughing, holding her stomach tightly, "Is that your way of saying that Y/N needs to seduce Sunghoon into somehow giving her his semen?" She said, when her laughter died down.

"Absolutely not!" You protested. The idea of seducing your boyfriend was...nice to think of but to actually have a practical session? You would have rather jumped off a cliff.

"Just ask him today, we have a holiday tomorrow, so incase the oogey-boogey indeed does oogey-boogey you have semen! Simple."

Gaeul's frappucino was subjected to being ejected out of her nose again, as she rolled over in fits of laughter.

This wasn't you.

This definetly wasn't you, Sunghoon thought.

His mind was racing at a hundred kilometres per the second, and his bag full of pastries for you was abandoned on the floor as soon as he saw what lay in front of him.

A reward for his hard work today? The thought of what he had done to deserve you was running a lap through his brain. You, in your pretty pink lace, with white trimmings, and pearls on your neck, the ones he bought you of course.

"Well hello there, gorgeous." He said, grabbing your waist in his arms, as he always did when he got back home. But this time, with a different purpose.

"All dressed up for me today?" He quizzed you, placing a kiss at the nape of your neck. It was pathetic how much the simple action made your hole so wet.

Sunghoon toyed with the pretty pink lace of your bra, kissing up and down your collarbone. God had you changed your perfume? It seemed so intoxicating to him. Your hands came to rest on his shoulder, as you nibbled the tip of his ear a bit, which made his dick throb inside his pants.

"Come on." He mumbled through his kisses, lifting you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist, which you did promptly.

The one thing that Sunghoon would have never expected was the various medical equipment that lay on your bed.

"Y/N." He glanced at you suspiciously, putting you down on your feet, "what's all this?"

You awkwardly cleared your throat and rushed over to the bed, picking up a tiny test tube and shoving it in your boyfriend's hands.

"Alright so I have an assignment and I need your help." You said, a bit more seriously than you had wanted to.

"Do you need me to get you pregnant or something?" Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darkening, "Cause I won't say no."

"Actually it's not that."

"Then what is it, princess?"

"Canihaveyoursemensampleplease." You mumbled, or more properly, to say, rapped.

"Y/N, proper sentences please?"

Sighing heavily to yourself, you gulped and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon again, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to his pink lips.

"I need a semen sample for an assignment." You mumbled into his ear, albeit a but louder this time. Sunghoon smirked into your neck.

"That's it?" He asked, a cocky smile spreading on his face. His baby, needs a sample from him? He thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

"Yeah...it's fine if you say no though!" You panicked, looking at him with widened eyes. But Sunghoon only chuckled again and raised your chin to his level with his finger.

"How could I say no when you're asking so nicely?" He said, guiding you over to the bed. Kicking off his shoes, Sunghoon settled in nicely between the sheets, while you awkwardly sat at the edge, handing the tube to him.

"Don't want to join me baby?" Sunghoon asked, taking off his belt and his trousers, and pulling you in for a sudden kiss, by grabbing your face with his hands.

"You're a medical student too Hoon, you know I can't." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Alright, but do me a favour. Hold the tube in place for me will you?" He handed the tube back to you, and you bit your lip. Holding it in place. In other words, bending over to make Hoon see your cleavage.

"If that's what'll get you off, then fine." You grumbled, although your panties were getting wetter by the second at the idea.

Sunghoon leaned against the bedframe, relaxing into the sheets, holding his throbbing cock with one hand. He began to jerk off hard, his hand rising to the tip of the cock, where more fat drops of precum accumulate, feeling the alcohol of your perfume take over the body,

"that what you want, princess?” he spits on his cock and starts jerking off again while he speaks his hand doesn't stop, slow movements, up and down as if he wanted to feel the familiar sensation of your walls clenched around him. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, at the sight of seeing your tits, lined perfectly in your lingerie. The sight of it made him go mental.

His hand never abandons his cock, squeezing, going up and down without losing rhythm. Sunghoon began to feel signs of orgasm so he reduced the speed of his hand, waiting for what will come next.

Sunghoon thinks while squeezing his cock tightly, holding by the base his fingers massage the balls, he climbs his hand slowly and passes his thumb over the head of the cock dripping precum, spreading and with his eyes glazed, little moans escaping his lips. Sunghoon sits more centered on the bed, drops of sweat run down his hair, dripping and turning a trail around his neck, chest and belly, his body is so sensitive to touch that the drops of water seem to scratch while the sheets seem to hug him.

"Fuck—im close." He whimpered, eyes rolling back as the knot in his stomach broke and the next moment, his hand was drenched in cum, and you were holding a test tube filled with what you needed.

"Shit" Sunghoon fell back on the bed, while you happily inserted the semen into your carrier so that it stayed safe. You crawled promptly into the bed with him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you so much Hoonie, I had no idea how I was going to get the-"

"What about my payment princess?" Sunghoon's whispered growl in your ear left you crumbling.

His touch left your skin burning in desire for more and before you could even catch a breath his hands grabbed your legs and you find yourself wrapped around his waist. Your hair was soft between his fingers and as he gently pulled it, you let out a little groan. 

"Hoonie–" you whimpered, feeling a blush creep up to your cheeks.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

Holding your waist firmly, Sunghoon flipped you over onto the bed with a rough thump, making you moan at the very sensation of his biceps touching your body.

"So wet for me already?" Sunghoon chuckled, removing your panties slowly, "You're so adorable."

"Shut up." You groaned, feeling embarrased again, "Hoonie, we ran out of condoms, maybe we should-"

"You're on birth control right?" Sunghoon pressed a kiss to your neck, making you mewl when his tip slightly touched your pussy, "You're not leaving this bed until the sheets are either drenched or until you've fainted."

His voice was rough as he lined himself up with your entrance as you panted in anticipation, fingers digging into his back when he finally entered you, moaning deeply at the feeling of your walls starting to clench around him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Sunghoon fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” he praises.

Discomposed, his voice thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Sunghoon rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs.

“That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned ass in quick succession.

 “Can’t you handle it, baby?” Sunghoon looked at you with pity, "Is it too much for your pathetic pussy?"

“I can-fuck, I can—handle it.” you whimpered. You clearly, could not handle it.

His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

"Hoon-I—ah FUCK!"

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

That unlocked something inside of him. While he still held you, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he could reach, he slammed into you, forcing your small body to jerk in his arms with each thrust. He grunted and moaned, nearly panting, as he crammed himself inside of you.

It doesn’t take long for your next orgasm to build up, releasing it with a silent cry as you unintentionally dig your fingers into Sunghoon's back causing him to groan in your ear in pleasure. He keeps his thrusts consistent as you begin to leak around his cock and onto the blanket beneath you. There’s no doubt you’ll have to change the bedding later. 

All you could do was bury your head in his chest until with one more thrust, he pushed into you, unloading pump after pump of cum. Afterwards, he slumped down, slowly dragging his cock out of your stuffed cunt, leaving you empty and internally screaming at the intoxication of the burn.

"Shit-" Sunghoon plopped down on the bed, next to you. Both of your chests rose and fell in unison, as you managed to steeply catch your breath.

A moment of calm silence arose before-

"Does your professor need any more sampler or...?" Sunghoon asked, eliciting a laugh out of you.

"Nope, just the one." You chuckled at his unseriousness as he pulled you in for cuddles.

"You're changing the sheets this time Hoon."

"Damn it."

Bonus

"So you did the oogey-boogey with him?"

"Yunjin!"

[megumiluvv]

Making You a Mommy

Cont: Choso x fem!reader, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it 😉), praise kink (duhh), no plot just smut, use of “pretty” and “baby” for reader, aftercare mentions, pussy-drunk Choso!! mentions of “making you a mommy” like a lot

Word count: 593

Masterlist

A/n: this is NOT part of my babysitter au, I just remembered that I could write smut lolll. I wrote this at 3 AM so don’t judge too hard </3

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

“Fuck, pretty, you’re sucking me in,” Choso groans as he thrusts into you. You’re spread out and laid on your back in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “Think she wants me to stay forever.” He smiles and whispers through another groan, referring to your pussy as “she”.

“Choso, fuck- right there!” You whine and wrap your arms around his neck as he peppers kisses onto your neck.

“Yeah? Feels good?” He thrusts harder into you and holds himself up, seeking your praise as he continually hits your sweet spot.

“So fucking good, Cho, it’s so good!”

Your praise goes to his brain and dick as he keeps pounding into your sweet little hole, his hands no longer holding himself up as he gropes your plump breasts and imagines them even fuller as his breeding side takes over and he imagines you pregnant with his babies.

“Yeah, you love it, huh? Love it when I pump you so full?” He seeks more of your praise, knowing the filthy words are only working you up more.

“Yes! Cho, I- fuuuck, I fucking love it, Cho!”

“Gonna cum again f’me? Gonna make a mess?”

“Yes- fuck! I’m gonna cum again, just keep going!” You whine and pull him impossibly closer.

As your nth orgasm hits, your body goes rigid and a silent cry seems to make its way into your expression as he keeps up his relentless pussy-drunk pace.

“You’re so tight, so perfect, pretty,” he groans into your ear and nibbles at your earlobe.

His praise affects you the same yours does to him. You clench tighter around him and your eyes practically have hearts in them as you look at him and his pussy-drunk expression.

“So so pretty, baby,” he whispers and kisses you, sloppily twisting his tongue with yours only to pull away and pant as he thrusts impossibly harder.

“Gonna cum again, put some pretty babies into your womb. You want that? Wanna be a mommy?”

You can tell he’s just babbling to turn you both on even more, the thought of him breeding you only making you tighter around his cock.

“Fuck- yes! Yes, Cho, wanna be a mommy! Make me a mommy!” You cry into his shoulder and claw at his back.

“I’m gonna, just gimme a few more minutes, okay baby?”

“Cho, so deep, gonna cum again! Can’t cum any more!” You cry, the overstimulation causing your mind to slowly start to blank.

“I know, pretty, just let it out, I believe in you.”

His encouragement causes you to cum again and your juices only make him slide faster and deeper into you as you become somehow tighter around him. He groans and finally cums as well, fucking the seed deep into you.

“Fuuck, pretty, gonna make you a mommy, cumming so deep into you,” he groans and stills his hips reluctantly due to his own overstimulation, opting to just lay on top of you and relish in the moment with you.

You both slowly come down from your highs and he pushes your sweaty hair out of your face.

“Did so good, pretty, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers.

“Tired…” You whine.

“I know, baby, but we gotta get this sweat cleaned off and your juices off our thighs. I’ll run a bath so you don’t have to stand.”

“Fine…”

He chuckles as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom. He doesn’t know if he truly can make you a mommy, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try every time.

[lilacsandpetals]

Frozen Blossoms Pt. 5

Bi-Han x F! reader

Tags and notes: Arranged marriage AU, SFW, exploring emotions. Pre-MK1/MK1 AU

Last part here.

Next part here.

I hope I caught all the spelling and grammar errors.

You went back to bed after Bi-Han left. Or at least, you tried to get some sleep. You didn’t realize you’d be so worried for him in that moment. But he would be fine, wouldn’t he? He was Lin Keui after all. Still, irrational as it may be, you were concerned. Even so, the logical part of your brain told you that your husband would return sooner rather than later.

—————

Well, you were wrong. It had been days, almost a week had passed. Your anxiety was growing with each day that went by. You couldn’t comprehend how everyone else seemed at ease. You went about trying to adhere to your regular routine, but at times it was difficult to focus. Remembering simple protocols became difficult. Your execution during training lessons was lackluster. Your instructors had noticed the shift in your performance but you had a suspicion that your father-in-law prevented them from fully reprimanding you as of late.

You longed to reach out to Bi-Han and figure out how he was doing. Yet contact was minimal in order to maintain the confidential and secretive nature of the Lin Keui. The Grandmaster had stated that unless a serious incident had occurred, you were advised to not reach out to your husband. 

You considered going out, perhaps visiting your family. Yet you were advised against doing so at the moment. And to be honest, you were troubled by the idea of Bi-Han returning when you weren’t at home. 

Since when did such a thought bother you so much?

While waiting for the days to go by you realized that you hadn’t gotten to know many individuals around the clan’s grounds. You knew your in-laws. Technically you could be called acquaintances with your tutors and perhaps a few other staff and clan members. If Bi-Han was going to become the Grandmaster and you would stand by his side, you figured establishing a good rapport with as many clan members as possible would prove helpful. So you had begun to venture about the estate, greeting individuals you’ve yet to put a name to. Most would be respectful, but brief as they had responsibilities they needed to attend to, and you assumed your chatting would be a bit burdensome. 

A good number of the other clan members were married, and you had run into their spouses here and there. You didn’t mean to, but the more you spoke with some of them, you ended up working into the conversation how you were worried the longer your husband was off on a mission. They always responded with assurance, that the feeling was normal, and that it would fade the more you got used to it. But here you are, sometime later with the same tension constricting your chest to the point that you’d wake up in a panic in the middle of the night. 

If you had known that you’d have to endure such loneliness and worry regularly, would you have agreed to the marriage? Well, even if you had known, you doubt that the full gravity of the lifestyle would dawn on you back then. And frankly, denying the betrothal request would cause tension and misfortune in your family’s clan. So really, you wouldn’t have had a choice either way. 

You decide not to dwell on that too much and glance at the books at your bedside. You were quickly getting through the stack. Especially since you had only recently begun spending time with your husband, and once you two had spent proper time with one another, he was called away. Reading had then become a solace of sorts from the loneliness. Maybe you could get some new books soon? Your eyes then drift to the flowers, they were starting to wither.

Would Bi-Han get you new flowers? Would he accompany you to the market? You wonder when he’ll be back. Maybe you two could spend some time together again.

Goodness, here you go again. Since that day you spent together, you had gotten into a habit of somehow circling nearly all your thoughts back to him. What was wrong with you? Had your husband really planted a place so firmly in your heart?

In truth, he has, and his absence makes your heart ache. You feel like a forlorn, lovesick teenager. 

A sigh escapes you as you fall back onto your bed. Your hand makes its way to his pillow, snatching it from its untouched spot and into your arms. You hug it close to your chest. 

Bi-Han truly wasn’t as bad as you thought he was. You did consider him a brute at first, but your interactions slowly started to break down that constructed image you had of him. Yes, he was stern, he could be blunt, and avoidant. But he had begun to show a side of himself you found endearing. He could appear so contemplative and protective. He was always so gentle when holding your hand. You even missed his prideful banter. 

And you missed catching glimpses of his eyes. They had gone from a shade too ominous and void, to something entirely warmer. Dark and enchanting.

You took a deep breath, squeezing the pillow a little closer to you. He kissed your forehead before he left and you still linger on that action of his. You wonder if he’d kiss your cheek when he comes back. 

You ghost your fingertips over your lips. You wonder what his lips taste like. 

—————-

The mission had proved exhausting, every time they came upon a point of completion, they’d be met with more strife brewing elsewhere. To the point where Lui Kang required their consistent assistance and they had ended up all the way in Outworld, dealing with a small group whose practice in stirring up trouble had spilled into Earthrealm. Of course, Lui Kang had kept the peace during the ordeal and resolved any issues with the aid of Empress Sindel. But this wasn’t the first time that a situation like this had occurred, and he assumed it wouldn’t be the last. Pursuing consistent negotiations for the sake of peace sometimes began to feel futile to him.

On occasion, he wished they could take a more aggressive approach to assert their stance.  

Then there was the issue of brewing tensions between surrounding clans, disagreements amongst them, and some disdain still lingered over his marriage to you. Of course, he hadn't brought that up to you, nor does he intend to. There would be no reason to stress you out over matters he could quickly stomp out on his own. 

Despite all these occurrences, and his outward dedication to addressing them, these neverending missions had been dethroned at the forefront of his mind more often than he was willing to admit. You had been running through his mind all week. The thought of you had been distracting him and while he was on a mission no less. 

Detestable of him really.

Had this happened weeks ago he would want to return home to wring your neck for causing him to lose focus. But it was different now. 

He found it enjoyable to think of you. 

It gave him something to look forward to. Someone to return home to. 

He wondered if you had eaten properly, if you had rested enough, had you kept up with your training? 

Did you miss him?… he missed you. He missed your playfulness, he missed your gentleness, he missed how increasingly lovely you had looked before he left. He felt as if he had grown closer to you before his departure. Would he be able to pick up where he left off with you? 

He hopes so. 

So as the group makes their way back under his lead, he can't help but find himself pondering. He wonders what would’ve happened that night if he didn’t have to leave. For the first time in a long time, he wishes he hadn’t left at all. 

He wonders if you realized how enticing you looked. With eyes looking up at him so innocently at the veranda, and lips that looked oh so soft. Or when you had laid down in the bed. Did you not realize how effortlessly alluring you looked? Your hair tousled, your nightgown bunching up at the curve of your hips and exposing part of your thigh. He really can only imagine what else could have happened that night if he had been more forward. It’s laughable that the only time he is unable to advance forward is when it comes to you. 

Consummating the marriage had still been a thought that seldom crossed his mind, but now it had started to creep up frequently. Oddly enough, had you two made use of the marriage bed that first night, he would’ve found it easier to complete that responsibility. He would be detached, acting upon crude necessity. 

Again, it was different now. 

Now there were emotions that entangled him. Concerns on whether his performance would live up to your unknown expectations. Worries about how you’d respond to his touch. Perturbation on how it would change him. It was all uncharted territory. 

He didn’t have an extensive insight into matters of that kind. His experience in that area was somewhat lacking. 

He honestly never gave it much thought, he was always too focused on his responsibilities and any tasks at hand to be caught up in lust to the extent of seeking it out at the risk of his honor. Had he struggled at all in the past, he’d take care of it himself. That is how he went about it as an adult.

His responsibilities within the Lin Keui came first, as they always have. Or at least he would attempt to adhere to that standard. He found himself faltering to maintain that status quo when he was young. 

Although discouraged, it was known that sometimes members of the Lin Keui would sneak off to a nearby brothel and ‘fulfill their needs’. When he was younger, curiosity had gotten the best of him and his brothers, leading them to sneak off just to see what all the excitement was about. They had just barely infiltrated the establishment through a side entrance when they were promptly caught, kicked out, and sent home to a furious father who had punished them all severely. 

Other than that, there was a point long ago where Kuai Liang had convinced him to sneak out and meet a few girls during the Qixi Festival. Kuai Liang had an easier time interacting with them, while he himself was more reserved. And then Tomas had tagged along. Tomas appeared much younger at the time compared to Kuai Liang and himself, so the girls found him ‘adorable’ as they had put it. He didn’t see the point in entertaining them at that time. One of the girls there did take a liking to him, she looked visually pleasing. She kept trying to hold his attention but he barely kept up conversation as chatter spewed out of her mouth in an attempt to keep him engaged. She even kissed him at the end of the night. It felt awkward and she had secured a strong hold on his neck, he hesitated to place his hands on her but kissed back as best as he knew how. However, he pulled away when he felt her tongue poke at his lips. He attempted to maintain his composure until they departed that evening. On his way home with his brothers, he frequently wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. All those love stories his mother and Kuai Liang would go on about made it seem like a first kiss was a life-changing experience. They were clearly wrong as that had not changed his life for the better. Kuai Liang teased him, saying that he was better with the girls, meanwhile, Tomas lamented that he hadn’t gotten any such tokens of affection. 

Now that was all the experience he had recalled. It made him wonder what your past was like. He tries not to think of it, but the thought that you may have had romantic interactions in the past made him burn with envy. 

If you had past lovers, he would make sure to surpass them in every manner.

—————-

Kuai Liang and Tomas know their brother. He is cold and harsh in nature, much like the power he was blessed with. But they are quick to catch Bi-Han smiling to himself when he thinks no one is watching. 

—————-

They stop at a village on the trek home. Bi-Han is not such a cruel leader that he’d push his forces so far when the mission has already been completed. He allows them an opportunity to catch their breath. The stop is brief and he rests against the brick wall of a building. His eyes scan his surroundings when they come to a halt. Kuai Liang and Tomas seem preoccupied. He cannot tell what they are speaking about, so he makes his way to them.

“What about that one?” Tomas says.

“No, I’ve already bought this one. This suits her best.” Kuai Liang responds. 

Bi-Han furrows his eyebrows, who were they speaking about? “What did you buy?” 

Kuai Liang smiles and holds up a golden hairpin, “the red jewel at the center reminds me of Harumi, fierce and passionate, I’m sure she’ll like it.” 

Tomas smiles “Always the romantic.”

Bi-Han eyes the gift briefly. Was he supposed to get you something as well? What color did you even like? He regrets not asking you before. 

There’s a slight shame that emerges within him, he has failed to get to know you well within these past weeks. He will have to atone for his shortcomings. 

So he slips away; just briefly to examine whatever the shop has to offer. His eyes travel over the array of pieces, trailing over them all until he sees a simple silver chain harboring a blue jewel in its center. Blue was his choice of color, but it simultaneously reminded you of him, calm and sincere.

Before he knows it, he’s made the purchase and he continues on his way. 

—————-

The sun has begun its descent and the moon begins to rise in its place. And so another day has passed without your husband. Or so you had thought. You had returned to your room after a meal. Rummaging through your belongings to pull out a woven shawl. The seasons have begun to shift and so the once manageable cold of the locale has become quite unbearable. You finally locate one suitable to your needs and toss it onto your bed. Now if you could only find warmer nightwear. 

“Wife.”

The sound startles you and you quickly stand to your feet. When had he returned? You weren’t expecting him at this moment. You finally get a good look at him as he stands in the doorway. He is handsome as always. His mask is off, and he appears stoic. Yet you catch a look in his eyes that comes off as a mix of weary and longing. You want to hug him, should you? Would he reciprocate it? You don’t know. So you fail to move forward and instead shoot him a small smile, “Bi-Han, I’m glad you’re home.”

“As am I.”

His body is crying out in exhaustion, all he wants to do is unwind, but the eagerness to show you his gift takes precedence over that. His hand searches through his pocket to pull out a silver chain adorned with a gem of sapphire. He motions for you to come to the front of the mirror and you oblige. “Try this on.” He carefully places the necklace in your hands and you attempt to get it on, but the hook is giving you trouble. Your husband waits but a few moments before taking the two ends of the necklace within his fingers. You slide your hair to the side, so he’s better able to hook the chain. His fingers are cold against your warm skin and he leans in slightly, making his breath tickle the back of your neck. Your shoulders slightly tense. When the necklace is secure his hands move to rest by the crook of your neck, looking at your reflection in the mirror. He’s never touched you there before.

The shade of blue suits you. You hold the jewel between your thumb and index finger briefly, smiling at your reflection. It rested just at the valley between your breasts. The way your chest rose and fell as you breathed only exuded a greater sense of allure to him. You were focused on the necklace, so much so that you were caught off guard when he bent down and quickly placed a kiss on the side of your neck. “You look good,” he mumbled just barely above a whisper. He quickly turns around and makes his way out the door. You would go after him but you felt frozen in place, your cheeks heating up, and your heart beating hard. 

——————

He didn’t even mean to do that. But your skin felt so soft, your fragrance hinted at scents of lotuses and lilies. The dim lighting illuminated your exposed skin in such a way that it ignited something within him, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to fully act on it. 

So he flees the scene and pushes away any thoughts of embarrassment. His body is used to brutal conditions, but even he longs for undisturbed relaxation on rare occasions. Despite his cryomancy, he is keen on a hot bath. The warm water is soothing to his aching muscles and welcoming to his pains. He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. He hopes you like the necklace, it’s not much but it is something. He hasn’t had the desire to shower anyone with gifts before, but you may be slowly changing his mind. 

The sound of a hesitant knock pulls him out of his state of relaxation. He snaps his head towards the private bathhouse's entrance. You stand there tentatively in the doorway. “What are you doing here? Go back to your room, now,” he scolds.

The steam emanating from the hot water twirls around the room, keeping the image of one another rather obscured. 

“You didn’t close the door all the way and I heard the water running,” you say sheepishly. “I was going to ask if you wanted help. I can tell you’re tired.” You just wanted to be around him, he left quickly, and he took longer than you anticipated to return. You yearned to satiate your loneliness. 

He was tired, but he wouldn’t say it. “How would you even help me?”

“I can wash your hair,” you respond and lean up against the frame of the entrance. You hope he accepts your offer. 

Bi-Han contemplates it for a moment, he supposes it would save him the hassle… and he did long for your presence. “Fine, you may enter, but watch your eyes.” You stifle a laugh as you walk forward. “What do you find so amusing?” he asks with an annoyed expression. “Nothing, nothing.” He had no reason to worry, you wouldn’t peak. You pull up a chair and sit behind him. “Lean back a bit, please.” He heeds your request and you begin massaging his scalp with the needed products.

Now this was relaxing. He did feel rather self-conscious earlier. He was taking a bath so he was entirely exposed, but that worry melted away as your hands worked what he might equate to magic. They were slow and methodical, releasing the tension that constricted his skull. And so he finds himself serene enough to close his eyes once more.  

You’re close to him again, this is probably the longest that you’ve seen him with his hair down. “You look good with your hair down,” you say softly. “Oh, do I?” he responds just above a whisper. You exhale lightly, “you do.” You continue in silence, for how long, you wouldn't know. 

But you do know that you appreciate every second of it. For once, you finally feel at ease. You’ve once again reached that brief moment of domestic bliss. 

You run your fingers through his hair, it’s softer than you thought it’d be. 

Your eyes trail down the sight of his neck and upper back. Scars riddle the skin that is visible to you, some more faint than others. You assume they were obtained in training and battle. In moments like these, the full weight of Lin Keui’s ways bear down on you. There is honor to it, but at a greater cost to oneself. And you know it’s his duty, it’s the way of the clan you married into, yet your heart clenches at the thought of it. 

The scars that adorn his body are many and you can’t help but lean forward to press your fingertips along one. The scar is extensive, nearly a clear cut minus a few jagged edges. Your fingertips graze along the expanse of the mark and you swear you feel him shudder against your touch. 

“Do any of these still hurt?”

“No, none of them.”

“They must have hurt when you got them.”

“Yes, but I am grateful for it.”

You don’t respond, being grateful to retain such pain bewilders you. Bi-Han notices your lack of response. “It taught me discipline and is proof that I’ve survived prior ordeals. That is all.”

You take that as a note not to continue with further questions, at least for now. Your eyes fall to his bicep, “Your wound from last time is healing.” He opens his eyes briefly to glance at his arm before closing them again. “I appreciate your aid that night.” You smile slightly to yourself.

“Lean forward.” Bi-Han obliges and you get a basin of water to wash his hair. His eyes remain closed as you gently pour it on him. His wet hair sticks to the front of his face, obscuring his eyes. The image of such an intimidating man in front of you like this, causes you to let out a laugh.

He moves his hair out from in front of his eyes. He’s about to snap at you and ask what you’re laughing about. Yet he retains a moment of pause. You’re laughing, and it’s the carefree laugh that he’s been yearning for since you two had married. The one you had so openly shared with others. You’ve finally graced him with the pleasure of hearing it on his own. So he doesn’t stop you, instead, he takes hold of your hand and brings your fingertips to his lips. He presses a chaste kiss to them before letting go. 

“Thank you.” He leans forward, crossing his arms and resting against the edge of the tub. 

You smile faintly and sit on the rim of the bathtub. You’re slightly anxious, but work up the courage to hastily move his hair to the side and press a kiss to his forehead in a rather bashful manner. “Thank you for spending time with me.” 

You see his mouth twitch into a smile for a brief second, and you are content. 

The room begins to become even more humid. 

But something is holding you back from leaving, tension has building up in the pit of your stomach and it’s causing your heart to tremble within your chest. So you remain there, inches away from him. 

Your perfume makes him feel dizzy with increasing desire. The world around him begins to fade into silence, and the only thing that he can hear is your shallow breathing. 

Your breath mingles with his. 

And neither one knows who leaned in first.

But his hand rests on the back of your neck and your lips have collided with his. They are rough, tasting like the tea you once shared with him. 

And you’ve never kissed anyone like this before. 

Desperation and longing seep into the way your mouths move against each other. His heart has begun to pound against his ribcage and he wonders if yours has too. Your lips are softer than he could have ever anticipated, and the moment they break away from his, he silently mourns. 

Heat has risen to your cheeks and you look away briefly, smiling to yourself and slowly getting up. “Goodnight Bi-Han.”

He takes a shaky breath. How unlike him. What have you done to him?

 “Goodnight, Y/N.”

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

Thanks for reading 💙

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[hwallazia]

WE KNOW – 박성화

synopsis . in which your boyfriend’s murder hurt for so long. so one cold night, you’d revenge him by meeting the head of the responsible for your boyfriend’s death. you thought it’d be a piece of cake but turns out he was so much smarter than you. | PART TWO

pairing . park seonghwa & fem! reader

genre . angst? (if you squint), mafia!au, strangers to ???

word count . 1,3k

DISCLAIMER! mob boss! seonghwa, undercover agent! reader, mentions of death (reader’s boyfriend), seonghwa threatens reader at the end (not this being necessarily a death threat).

NIC’S NOTES of course this is having a part 2 (i’ll post it eventually, i swear) which will contain smut. this is literally word vomit of my thoughts of mob boss! seonghwa so i’m so sorry for the shortness of this!

You knew it, you knew that what you were doing was wrong, but your body tends to react faster than your own brain.

With your legs shaking and a lump forming in your throat, you stood in front of the majestic door of the 19-story building, knowing everything you were risking by even stepping on the ceramic floor of the hotel’s luxurious floor; your life and on the other hand your work, your boss had been more than clear that case 3498: “Park Seonghwa” would be handled by special forces and more trained and experienced strategists.

You still couldn’t fully understand why you were in front of the gates of hell of your own free will, but you simply couldn’t miss the opportunity to kill the heir of the ‘Wonderland’ cartel, his men being responsible for the death of your boyfriend, which happened a long time ago. More less two years.

When your squad leader announced that there was a possibility of finally destroying this cartel because of its leader’s murder, your eyes shone; you found hope along the way, after having gone through one full of desolation and tragedy.

That’s why you couldn’t just sit back and pretend that the case had never been mentioned. You decided to take matters into your own hands even when your boss explicitly told you to step aside.

And with a deep sigh, you walked into the hotel, the smell of wood and leather sofas filling your nostrils.

You analyzed the environment, noticing certain people casting their gaze on you. Without giving them much importance, you tried to locate your target.

You walked around the place, meeting many familiar faces and wondering where you knew them from; soon the answer came to your mind, they were people you saw, locked in your office —more like a pretty, decorated prison— in criminal records files. Some of them with quite compromising and illicit antecedents. But this wasn’t the time to think about those people.

Of all the people who were in the building, you had to locate one, which, by the way, you weren’t finding anywhere.

You headed to the elevator and pressed the button that had a downward arrow drawn on it. You waited patiently for the ‘ding’ to announce the arrival of the mechanism, and got on the elevator. Once on the floor you wanted to be, you walked down that hallway full of 2-4 person dining tables, until you finally found your target.

The only way you could attract him into your net was by seducing him, so you could make time to call the special forces. No matter how many lectures your boss gave you later, you could finally avenge the death of your beloved boyfriend.

You approached the mysterious man, your maroon dress shedding some of its fabric due to the slit in your right thigh, falling delicately to the floor. It hugged your anatomy, highlighting your exotic curves. Due to the non-accidental rip in your dress, your shiny white heels were on display. You felt beautiful, and you hoped that Mr. Park Seonghwa would fall for your charms as well.

Taking your dress by the sides, being careful not to step on it, you sat down without saying a word at the same table as the enemy. He somehow sensed a foreign presence, so he spoke.

“I wasn’t expecting a companion tonight.” His voice made a delicious shiver run down your spine, straightening your back.

“No handsome man should spend the night alone.” Your feminine and captivating voice made him finally look up and fix his dark, solemn eyes on yours.

“Is that so? Since when?” He raised an eyebrow mischievously.

“Since today, darling.”

A small laugh escaped his lips as he lowered his head to hide the curve that had formed on his lips.

“Okay, doll. I’ll let us share this dinner together,” He straightened up, focusing all his attention on you, “Why, of all the people gathered here, did you decide to sit at my table?”

“Didn’t I say it already? I think you’re cute, so I decided to keep you company.”

“With what purpose?” He leaned over the table, resting his elbows on his sides.

Very good question, with what purpose had you taken the decision, and the courage, to sit at the same table as the devil? You couldn’t remember anything, it seemed like your mind went blank every time the man fixed his dark irises on you, and the fact that he was doing it right now wasn’t helping matters.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to arrest me…” Your blood suddenly ran cold. Your mind began to spin in search of a sensible answer. Your neurons were so busy thinking meticulously about the words you were going to say that you forgot how ridiculous and desperate you’d look in the process.

“No! Not at all… Nonono,” You let out the longest existing “ehhh” in the middle of your explanation. “My goal with you tonight is different and… personal.”

“Mhm... personal,” The word slid off his tongue dangerously. “Well, I’m dying to know what you’re planning on doing with me tonight.” A curved smile decorated his lips, weakening your legs.

You urgently wanted to change the direction of the conversation, and as if you had manifested it, the food arrived at your table. The waiter placed two plates of medium-rare steak in front of you as an appetizer and a bottle of champagne that he masterfully opened. The clear liquid from the bottle slid smoothly down your glass, bubbles adorning the top of it.

Food flooded your table as you kept a conversation with Seonghwa. It was strange but intriguing. Neither of you gave more information than necessary, both always staying on the edge. You didn’t know when, why, or how but you were both laughing. When you stopped, the gangster let out a sigh and then spoke to you.

“You’re very beautiful. Y’know?” Your cheeks turned a tender pink as you felt them burn. However, you decided to test him, looking at him lustfully, clearly with other intentions. Unfortunately, Seonghwa read you like an open book and rapidly recognized the game you were playing.

“Thanks, handsome. You’re very good-looking as we-”

“Too bad you’re an agent.”

What?

How was it possible? You didn’t give too much information, and you were cautious when speaking. So how the hell does he know you’re an agent? You stayed still in your seat, unable to formulate any excuses.

“Oh, darling. I’m the heir of the greatest mafia in Asia. Didn’t that tell you and your pretty little head something?”

Words simply chose not to slip out of your mouth. So you remained silent, looking down as if you were a just scolded six-year-old girl.

At that point, you didn’t know if you were scared or what, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. It was as if a deafening voice was ringing inside your head repeating ‘don’t. you. dare.’

“I’d love to have you around, I really mean it. You’re lovely. Maybe your head hanging on my coat rack can keep me company.” Seonghwa got up from his seat, going around the table to be face-to-face with you.

“Please, let’s talk rationally.” You naively tried to keep your voice from shaking, but it was impossible. You were terrified of what this man could do to you.

“Follow me, y/n.”

Fuck.

Now there was no way to deny the undeniable. He knew your name, probably your last name, your address, your blood type, and the name of your dog, why not?

Now you were really against a rock and a hard place.

He took your hand carelessly and practically dragged you to one of the countless hotel rooms, away from the crowd. He closed the door behind him and threw you on the bed brusquely.

“W-what are you gonna do to me?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill you, I’m not as ruthless as my father.” You let out a sigh when you heard his words.

“But I am gon’ make you regret trying to arrest me, darling,” He walked towards you and leaned down so he could be face-to-face with you. His lips brushing dangerously against yours. You could see how a flame decorated his dark irises, “So much that you’re gonna wish you never had met me.”

| masterlist

[queenofallimagines]

Satan if you were a satanist before you arrived in the devildom

A/n: listennnn in between getting dragged by the Lucifer chat bots, writing two really long fics and having brain worms about this Au I’ve had so many thoughts and Satan has landed in my radar☺️ asmo and Simon are NEXT bc guardian angels are a whole DIFFERENT can of worms

I’m gunna use like ACTUAL satanic lore mixed in w the game lore

Satan:

- okay so boom

- Right off the bat he can tell you are different

- Sitting back waiting to see how you react to everyone

- Takes note you’re much more respectful to him than the rest

- Thought you were walking on eggshells because you were terrified of him but you ain’t scared at all

- You see through all his pranks

- “He’ll probably see that coming a mile away. Try moving it over here Lucifer don’t check there.”

- Color him impressed

- Does see you don’t really freak out like his brothers when he goes into one of his little rage fits

- When he offered to make the pact with you to piss Lucifer off you were really caught at a pass

- Like for one you technically already have a soft pact with him being a devotee

- But also you don’t want to disrespect him by saying no

- Choosing to not get on Lucifer’s bad side because you still do have a mission to do in that attic, soyou politely decline

- “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to make a pact with you that isn’t built on a mutual trust and understanding”

- He’s always told you to sniff out a trap and you were NOT falling for it

- Blinded by rage for not getting his way, that’s when he lashes out

- He feels something weird in his chest when he looks at you in that moment but he can’t quite understand it. Like a tugging feeling at the back of his head trying to tell him something

- When you get caught I. The middle of the whole “they’re the same person thing” you just roll your eyes

- “No shit they’re not the same person🙄😒 Satan and Lucifer couldn’t be more different, Lucifer is the morning star and Satan is more tricker than anything :/ crazy how yall don’t do research”

- Ngl he almost fell for you right then and there

- He cannot STAND that especially when humans call anything and everything Satan and refer to him and Lucifer like they’re the same person.

- Looks at you with star eyes for a second before sticking to you like glue. He’s very fascinated with you and wants to study you under a microscope

- Ask you if you’re like Solomon and have been studying for years

- Did you manage to get your hands on some devildom textbook somehow?

- Maybe even some texts form the celestial realm

- “Not really but that would be super cool to read.”

- He himself hates misinformation so you be correcting all the demon brothers with the quickness

- Lucifer is very annoyed and Satan is elated

- Notices you looking at him a lot, like you’re analyzing him

- Ofc he’s blunt and isn’t gunna beat around the bush he asks you what you’re doing starring at him like that

- “It’s really nice to see what you actually look like… if you’re shape shifting all the time and this is the form you stay in full time it’s… nice to see you face to face”

- Confused for a second because he doesn’t often make trips directly to the human world even for a summoning

- “Well I mean, in the human world we don’t actually know what you look like. The only book that has a description of what you looked like and are has the pages mysteriously ripped out and have never been found. I assume that was your doing?”

- Shocked pikachu bc he fr forgot he did that in his younger years

- His mischievous tendencies have been delegated directly to Lucifer, he understands the value of books now

- “Ah,,, I do recall doing that. It would make sense why you’re starring at me so hard.”

- Blushes when you call him a pretty boy

- Like he’s in his room kicking his feet giggling

- You bring him his offerings directly

- He won’t even realize you’re doing deity work with him and is just excited to spend time with you

- Whenever you come back home from class or whatever you give him little things you got in your way back or snacks he likes

- Nobody has ever seen satan smile this much

- Lucifer peeps when it’s your turn to cook dinner you just so happen to favor foods Satan likes and uses ingredients he does to cook too

- Will be very suspicious of you mirroring his behavior

- Satan is none the wiser truly he’s assure at familiar feeling is like some star crossed lovers stuff and you were meant to meet by fates hands

- Has so many cute cat themed things in his room from you

- Lucifer is not liking how you seem to be trying to gain his trust for your own reasons but he can’t sense anything malicious.

- He can’t pinpoint any alternate motive for this behavior

- Satan will not notice until someone points it out to him

- Lucy straight up asks you why you’re getting so friendly with him

- Mammon also chimes in that you seem like you’re sucking up to him, and Satan feels conflicted be he doesn’t like how they’re accusing you but also the fact that you might be just being nice to him because you want something is setting his nerves on fire

- Rolling your eyes you shoot back at Lucifer that you’re just worshiping Satan like you usually do

- The old man is takes aback and Satan is like…. I beg your pardon?😀

- “Satan has been my patron for years now, the only thing that’s different is that I can give him my offerings and ask him for help directly”

- Mammon is chewing the carpet he’s supposed to be your first man!

- Satan is flabbergasted and is searching his memory for this information

- Before he remembers

- “How did I not notice??”

- “I thought you knew??”

- “NO???”

- Dinner is wild bc now asmo asking for embarrassing memories of you

- Rip bc Satan gon tell it ALL😭

- I feel like he’d be the type to keep a log so he might not remember every single face and name because he does fuck with some people who summon him

- Grabs your notebook from his room and starts reciting shit BAR FOR BAR

- “Oh yeah i remember this! You were quite a rowdy child picking fights with everyone. Your temper was awful”

- “YOU DO NOT GET TO FUCKING SAY THAY TO ME!!”

- laughing because he’s taking a stroll down memory lane and he’s dragging you along

- Can feel your anger a mile away, he’s in your ear now more than EVER going “don’t you want to go apeshit?”

- Constantly encouraging you to loose your temper on Lucifer

- He feeds off your rage and it feels almost euphoric to him, because he’s an instigator if anything😭

- “Where the fuck is your rage?? Lucifer was definitely disrespecting you👀👀”

- Exhausting

- Lucifer will get on him about having you up for hours on end reading and studying when you need to sleep

- You will NOT fail any class not on his fucking watch! He’s gunna make sure you excel in this exchange program academically

- Even if he’s not who you ask for things he’s helping you

- “Do NOT as belphie for help with dream interpretation I’ll help you!!”

- Very proud to show you off

- “Y’all see MY human?”

- Mammon is trying not to start problems on purpose

- He will probably bend you over Lucifer’s desk bestie it’s inevitable

- If you’re intimate before he knows he’s really gentle and makes sure to take his time with you

- If it’s after he will be rough and mean

- He definitely cares about you and loves you but he will pretend he’s using you as a toy

- As if he’s your god and you’re nothing but a lowly mortal designed to be used and filled up by him

- Choking you out and breeding you for hours on end

- Will be so incredibly gentle with aftercare it’s almost like he’s a different person

- “Look at you drooling and can’t even keep your eyes focused. Pathetic. You’re too stupid to think of anything other than how I’m ruining you”

- Makes you struggle to walk every time

- Gets carried away and marks you everywhere like diavolo asking you why there’s a hickey on your ankle😭

- Almost buys you a collar if Lucifer didn’t stop him

- Wants you to know you belong to him and you’re his little follower

- Tells you how good you are for him and gives you a nice reward

- “You’re so good for me, so eager to please and make me happy. My human deserves a reward hm?”

- Cocky asf for no reason PLEASE humble his ass!!

- Gets off on it when you pin him down and call him pathetic

- “The great avatar of wrath Satan himself bouncing on my lap like a whore desperate to get off.”

- He’s literally turning to mush for you

- Whimpering and looking at you with teary eyes

- “P-please I need to cum I’ll do anything”

- Bites back a moan when you coo at him that he’s so pathetic needing a mortal to get off

- He can feel how mean you are and your anger through your pact and it’s making his body buzz with excitement

- Panting and wiggling his hips he’s begging you to fill him up

- Call him a good kitty and he probably won’t be able to last

- Likes when you punish him like best his ass fr leave bruises make his ass bright red!!

- He’s really just attached to you and will cause a big issue when you have to leave the devildom at the end of the year😅

[doiefics]

can't we be like the others?

pairing: jungkook x gn!reader

prologue: what was supposed to be mini date turned out to be an argument, but do you and your famous boyfriend even know how to argue in the first place?

genre: angst + established relationship!au + idol boyfriend!jungkook

wordcount: 1,037

warnings: mentions of camsex + crying + possible breakup?

Unlike the hands of the clock that still managed to meet eleven times in twelve hours, you barely met your boyfriend.

When was the last time you saw him in the flesh? Maybe around two months ago, when he stopped by your place for a quarter of an hour.

At this rate one could label it a long-distance relationship if this was how things were going to be even after four years of apparent togetherness.

One thing you realised pretty early on in your relationship was the fact that there was nothing fancy and glam about dating a man this famous.

Dates? That would be counted as a privilege, you could not even let it be know your circle.

The invisible veil somehow always made you feel the distance between the two of you, at times, more than often, he was more of the industry than he was yours.

It was barely the second week into dating when he begged you not to let anyone about this secret love affair because he was scared it would leak out and ruin things for him, he had always been scared.

Video calls were the only means, then, whether it was random calls out of boredom or helping each other with sexual needs.

And phone sex could never be what the touch-to-touch was.

Tonight, you had second thoughts floating over your brain.

Were the time and effort invested worthwhile? Were you a weight for him to carry?

It wasn't like you had no love for Jungkook. You did, and you loved him fervently but love wasn't always shared, sometimes it had to be abandoned.

The dinner table that took you forty minutes to set still found itself in the same condition as before, except for the food that had gone cold.

It was 2:28 am sharp and your boyfriend who promised to reach by 9, was still nowhere to be seen.

The doorbell startled you out of your sleep. Blinking a few times to get used to the brightness, you managed to gather yourself as you made your way to the door.

"I'm sorry." He engulfed you in a hug even before you could properly let him in.

This very feeling of having him with you made you shut your eyes and senses, the only thing that you were focusing on was his presence.

His wood-scented perfume and the cozy fabric of his grey sweatshirt made you melt right on the spot.

"I missed you." Jungkook planted a little peck on your forehead as his starry eyes gleamed into yours.

You nodded and smiled gently.

Similar to how married couples would behave during a disagreement, the supper, although at an ungodly hour, fell hushed.

Jungkook did try to initiate anumber of conversations in the middle, but when he noticed that you mostly just hummed and nodded, he stopped talking.

Perhaps he assumed that you were weary.

Minutes after, you both seated yourselves on the balcony of your apartment.

The sky was full of stars that night, just as your heart was full of uncertainties. 

Moonlight was illuminating your boyfriend's face, he placed himself on your lap.

It's better to let emotions out when you can, or else they end up boiling in a vessel and blasting.

"Jungkook," you hesitated. 

"Yeah?" He looked up at you with those bambi eyes of his.

"What.. what about us?" You stammered, It took a lot of effort to speak these words at last.

What if something awful happened instead?

"What do you mean baby?" He pouted, playing with your fingers before he ended up intertwining them with his own. 

"How long do we have to be like this? Why can't we be just like the others?"

You shook away his hand as you fumed at him, visibly mad at him.

"Are you even trying?" There you said it.

He was quick to get off your lap.

"What on earth makes you think that?" He revolted back. His facial expression was unlike anything you had ever seen, you could tell he was close to tears while still enraged.

"I'm here trying my best to live this life" He reverted, irritated.

The scene changed quickly.

"I can't even recall the last time I could sleep till my content or eat what I wanted to, I can't even breathe without letting people know!"

Jungkook was in a never before seen emotion as he kept on massaging his temples, and all you did on the other hand was sit on the ground as you looked up at his face, tears were now trailing down his cheeks. 

"I still fucking love you." He broke down and got on his knees. 

His phone started ringing, and you were a hundred per cent sure it was one of his managers. That is how it ended up every time, he would quickly grab his phone and pack his bags before kissing you goodbye.

But this time, he didn't. 

"I'm sorry." He pleaded, tear drops falling like rain on the floor.

You stood there the same, reconsidering. Maybe you could never imagine yourself in his shoes, but you were also not unknown to his harsh life and it's requirements.

Without adding a word more, he walked over to you and pulled you into a hug.

The warmth of that physical contact seemed to heighten your feelings, and before you knew it, you were crying as well.

You had lost the track of time by now.

"Jungkook?" You called his name, and that was followed by a hum from his side. 

"What about us?" You asked again, but with a different intention, letting out a chuckle.

"Hmmm, marriage, kids, and lots and lots of sex." Jungkook replied as he crunched his nose. 

"I hope we have two." He added.

"Both girls," His face lit up with pride.

"What do you think?" 

"We have talked about this a thousand times already" You bopped his nose, never getting out of his arms. 

"I can't stop thinking about them already. Our kids are gonna be mwah!" He pouted as he bragged about his unborn kids.

"I wish they have your eyes, nose, and lips..." He traced down your facial features with his index finger.

The sun was already coming up and the glory of the dawn brightened your skin to a tint of orange. 

"I love you" Jungkook mumbled with a soft breath, caressing the top of your hands. 

"I always will."

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[butchcarmy]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 4: piccata, bills, and ghosts

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 5

Chapter Rating: T (9.1k)

Chapter Summary: Carmy realizes that this is what joy looks like, and when he looks that truth in the eyes, he finds himself blissfully unafraid. Their company is an indulgence he's finally allowing himself to have in its entirety, and it's beautiful. The world is both unfolding and combining, all for him, all because of them.

Tags: carmy being mentally ill, panic attacks, happy carmy, silly carmy, physical touch

A/N: Here's our fluffiest (and longest) chapter yet! But the hurt/comfort is also on full blast this chapter…This one really has it all. You'll see what I mean. Here's the also start of Act 2, in which Carmy is gonna be realizing…and he won't stop realizing…until he realizes it all. Also I am taking creative liberties with how family actually works. Enjoy!

It doesn’t always stay the same. 

When Carmy looks in the bathroom mirror this morning, he feels as tired as he looks. Exhaustion resides in his dark eyebags and temperamental curly flyways. The fire from last night had interrupted the little sleep he was able to snag. Despite all the weariness, though, there’s something different about today. 

He’s used to a blazing fire in his brain, constant in its sweltering heat and pain, but today, the fire lays low. There’s actually room in his head for quiet, for silence to exist. It’s not the dissociative emptiness he’s used to. He thinks he can only describe it as peace. 

The thought almost makes him laugh with how ludicrous it is. Peace and him don’t typically mesh. 

He remembers the fire last night, crackling in the containers of pots and pans before billowing upwards. He imagines a different outcome, instead pondering a future where his apartment burned down. Where their apartment burned down, and in this alternate reality, he stands in the ashes, unsurprised that he’s destroyed yet another good thing in his life. Then the grief of him realizing that it was the only good thing left in his life destroys him. 

But when he looks at their toothbrush next to his, their shared crinkled tube of toothpaste, he comes back down. 

He doesn’t know how he managed to keep them. Somehow, they’re here to stay, and they’re going to be at The Beef for family in half an hour.

“Corner,” he shouts, breezing through the kitchen with a container and shallots and garlic. He still needs to finish mincing them for family this afternoon—lemon chicken piccata. At least he’s prepped the rest of the ingredients already, along with the plates and utensils. 

The peace in the morning was momentary, because of course it was. There’s a tangled yarn ball of anxiety knotting itself over and over inside him at the thought of them having family with him and everyone else. He pondered on his commute this morning if inviting them was the right thing. If it was an overstep, either with them or at The Beef, but then he remembers the way their face lit up when he asked, and the anxiety grows quiet. Well, quieter. 

And as it grows quiet, it opens up the space for his excitement to be the loudest voice in his head. 

“Lemon chicken piccata?” Sydney observes the prepped chicken, lemons, capers. As she looks, her fingers fiddle with the small golden hoops in her ear. 

“Yeah. Thought this’d be a good way to have everyone try it again, get a better feel for it.” He cuts the shallot into thin slices before cutting into them again, mincing it into tiny pieces. He notes a distinctly ugly slice of shallot and tosses it. This dish needs to be perfect. 

“Heard.” Sydney traces a finger over the edges of the stacked plates before stopping. “Uh, chef, I think you got an extra plate here.”

Carmy stops, looks up from the cutting board. Quickly counts the plates again. Looks back down.

“No, I got it,” he reassures her. When she raises an eyebrow at him, he adds, “I, uh, invited someone. My…roommate.”

“Oh.” Sydney doesn’t even try to hide the surprise on her face, or maybe she’s just so shocked she couldn’t. “That’s—that’s great!”

“Sorry I didn’t, um, give a heads up. Or something. Uh…” He pauses, looking at her, trying to search for more words.

“No, it’s fine! I’m just surprised.” She shakes her head, seemingly to herself. “But now that you mention it, yeah, a heads up next time could be cool.”

“Next time,” Carmy promises with a nod. Next time, he thinks wistfully to himself. Maybe there could be a next time.

“So…I’m guessing no one else knows that you invited someone,” Sydney says, harmlessly, just as Tina and Marcus decide to come back into the kitchen. 

“Carmy invited someone?” Marcus makes his way back into the kitchen, a sack of flour in one hand and a tin of cocoa powder in the other. They slam onto the counter at the baking station, resounding with a dull thud. “Lemme guess. Is it the roommate?”

“It's the roommate,” Carmy confirms, before anyone else can get a word in. Now, onto mincing the garlic. 

“Jeff!” Tina exclaims, aghast. “Why didn't you say something earlier?” She’s walking some extra vegetables to her station to prep. “Way to surprise us!”

“Who’s surprising us? With what?” Carmy raises his head, and when he sees who's just come back through the front entrance, he lowers his head with an aggravated sigh. Richie. The last thing he needs right now.

“Carmy's bringing a date to family,” Tina tattles helpfully. Although Carmy begrudgingly acknowledges that he would've had to bring it up eventually.

“Not a date, just my roommate,” he mutters. Not that anyone's listening. 

“Carmen, Carmen, Carmen.” Richie makes a drama production of swinging the door open into the kitchen, stepping through it with arms outstretched. An overpowering scent of pine cologne accompanies him. “So you do listen to your cousin when he talks, huh?”

“I have no idea what he's talking about,” Carmy tells Sydney, who just shrugs. 

“I'm proud of you, cousin. Really proud.” Richie slaps him way too hard on the back, jerking Carmy forward. 

“Don't do that when I'm using a knife, you asshole!” Carmy snaps, elbowing Richie out of the way. “Stupid fuckin’ idiot.”

“Jesus, fine, fine, I'll get out of your way!” Getting cursed at did little to deter Richie's smug demeanor. “Fuckin’ princess. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the back.”

“We won't,” Carmy says, and Richie flips him off as he walks away. 

“Carmy's bringing his roommate, who he is not dating, to family,” Marcus projects to the rest of the kitchen, and Carmy resists a groan. 

“It’s not a big deal.” Carmy slams his knife onto another clove of garlic, crushing it. “I don't see why you guys have to make such a fuss about it.”

“Because it's fun,” Marcus replies with a broad grin. “Sorry, chef.”

“Let us have our fun. We never get to poke fun at you,” Tina says. 

“That is just not true,” Carmy groans, and everyone’s laugh resounds into a mismatched chorus. 

They tease him relentlessly for a couple more minutes until it dissolves into sparse chatter, for which Carmy is grateful. Peaceful lulls in the kitchen are rare, especially in this particular one. He takes it while he can get it, honing in, oiling the pan, pressing the chicken into the bubbling surface until it's golden. The others gradually filter out as he cooks, leaving him to cook on his own. 

Then comes the familiar chime of the front door. 

Carmy turns the stove off, takes the pan off the heat to check to see who it is. Surely enough, it’s the guest of honor. 

“Hey Carmy!” They’re looking cute as ever today, maybe even a bit more dressed up than usual. Part of Carmy thinks that maybe they dressed up for him, and another part of Carmy strangles the other one to death. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“Hey, you’re fine. I’m just about to finish up.” He guides them into the kitchen with him.

“Smells incredible in here,” they comment. “Also, before I forget. Is there somewhere I could put my coat? Break room or somethin?”

“Yeah, we can put it in my office.”

Upon entering, Carmy becomes acutely aware of exactly how messy his office is. It's not like he didn't know. He created the mess, after all, but having someone new bear witness to his stacks of papers and stuffed file folders is…embarrassing, to put it plainly. To Carmy's benefit and luck, though, they're much too polite of a person to comment.

“So this is where you're holed up.” Their head turns to look at all the posters and papers hung up on the wall, still largely unchanged from Michael's time. 

“Yep. It's all bookkeeping, along with more bookkeeping,” he informs dryly. “Here, you can hang that on my chair.”

“Thanks.” They drape their jacket on the back of his chair, and Carmy is suddenly struck with the impression that it feels odd to see it there. “Oh!” They exclaim, looking at something on his desk.

He follows their gaze to the papaya pills and ginger candies sitting in the corner. 

“Ah, yeah.” Why does he feel embarrassed? “I really need to thank you again for that.”

“No need, but I’ll take it. I hope they actually helped.”

“They did. I actually, uh…” He digs around in his apron pocket and fishes out a candy. “I’ve been keeping them on me.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” They beam at him, visibly brightening. It’s infectious, and he feels himself smiling a little back. 

A period of silence falls between them. This sort of thing keeps happening as recent. It leaves them looking at one another, and it should be awkward. Yet it’s not. It’s strange and peaceful, and then because Carmy is Carmy, his heart starts squeezing and telling him he needs to get out of here.

“Did you sleep alright? After, uh,  last night.” He’s not sure why he’s asking that now. 

“Yeah, I was fine. You?”

“Okay,” he replies instinctually. “Sorta,” he amends. “I’m doin’ better.” 

“That’s good. Better is good.”

“Yeah.” He exhales out his nose, runs a hand through his hair. 

There’s the muffled sound of laughter in the distance, and it reminds Carmy that they’re not quite alone. That he still has dishes he needs to finish cooking.

“I need to finish back in the kitchen. Let me show you where we’re sitting.”

Minus a few faces, everyone’s already seated at the table for family. There’s some idle chatter floating in the air, but it drops to the floor as soon as Carmy enters. Makes him feel like a deer in headlights.

“Everyone, this is my, uh—“ Something in Carmy’s brain buffers. “My friend,” he finally decides. He introduces them to the four that're seated already, those of which being Sydney, Marcus, Tina, and Ebra. There’s a mix of enthusiastic hellos and simple nods in response. He turns back to his roommate—friend—whatever—and they’re waving back. “I'll be back soon. Sit wherever you want.” 

“Sure thing,” they reply easily, and it makes Carmy feel a little less guilty about abandoning them.

To his credit, he does try to finish cooking quickly. All he had left was the sauce, and he already prepped all the ingredients. Between the aromatic browned onions, emulsifying the sauce with wine, and dousing the chicken in it, he couldn't have taken more than 15 minutes. 

He wasn't sure what to expect upon returning. The worst possible scenario would be complete silence. Or screaming, but that was unlikely. On his walk there, though, plates in hand, he hears pleasant chatter. 

“The coffee down the street is overpriced,” Carmy hears his roommate saying. There’s a murmur of  agreement. When he walks in, he sees all the seats at the table are full. “Don’t get me wrong, it's not bad, but you'd get coffee just as good one block down the other way at—”

“At Ironclad?” Marcus guesses hopefully, leaning in.

“At Ironclad,” they confirm, and there's a mix of cheers and boos.

“Grit is better,” Sydney challenges. “More espresso bean options.”

“You make a compelling point,” they reply. “A latte for $4 though? In this economy? Just try and beat that.”

“It's less at 7-Eleven,” Richie chimes in, and everyone boos. “It's one of the pillars of the working class! Admit it!”

They're not like him, Carmy remembers. They're actually socially competent, and they can do well for themself in a group of strangers. Seemingly with little effort, they’ve already assimilated themself. 

“Family's up,” Carmy announces, sliding plates into the table. “Lemon chicken piccata and caramelized rosemary potatoes.”

“Jeff, didn't you show us this last week?” Tina asks. She leans in to waft the savory smell towards her nose, and she hums in approval. 

“Yeah, I did. I just thought it'd be good to make it for you guys.” He finishes getting the rest of the plates from the kitchen, making sure everyone has a plate of food in front of them. He can tell who's started eating by the pleased expressions on their faces. Other than the fact that their food has a dent in it, of course. 

“Carmy. This is on fire,” Ebra praises, nodding in approval towards him. 

“Ebra, it's ‘this is fire’, not ‘this is on fire’,” Gary corrects, amused. “But I agree.”

“Good, good,” Carmy says. He settles into his seat at the front of the table, which is…weird, actually. He doesn't remember the last time he's actually sat and had family with everyone. 

“Actually eating with us for once, Carmen?” Richie points out. He says it like a jab, because that's always how he speaks, but it lacks the fight that it usually does. Carmy can hear what he's really expressing—I'm glad you're joining us.

“I am,” Carmy responds evenly. He feels his roommate's curious gaze to his right, but they don't say anything. That's when he notices that they haven't started eating yet. His mind supplies a million different reasons at once. None of them sound sane, so they'll go unspoken. “Not hungry?” he asks instead.  

“No, I just wanted to wait until you were here.” They say it like it's not a big deal. “I always did it with my family growing up. Just a habit, I guess.” Now that they're saying it, some of Carmy's memories start to make more sense. He suddenly remembers sitting with them at home, and he had to take a call right before they were about to start their dinner. When he came back, their food was still untouched. He didn't think much of it then, but now…

“Oh, cool. That's…” In the time he's searching for a word, they've taken a bite. “How is it?” He asks instead. 

“Fuck.” They're shaking their head like something's wrong, but it's obvious from the gigantic smile on their face that it's anything but. “Carmy. Carmy. You're crazy.”

“Am I, now?” He knows he's probably got a stupid expression on his face. 

“So crazy. This is incredible.” They slice themself another piece of chicken. “These capers too, man. You actually made me like capers.”

“The capers made you like capers,” Carmy jokes, and they snort. 

“No, that's severely underplaying your part in all this. Seriously, this is delicious.” They always get this glowing smile when they're eating good food. He's witnessed it in their shared kitchen, whether it's food from their mutually favorite joint or their own two hands. He's never seen them smile like this, though. It's a joy that's possibly unique to Carmy's own cooking. 

Carmy doesn't know how to handle that. Not even a little bit.

“Glad to hear it,” he says instead, ignoring the fullness in his heart, and he starts eating.

“I’mma start this week,” Marcus begins. “I'm grateful for the fact that my roommate Chester actually managed not to spoil the episode I missed of this show we’re watching this past week. He’s still a jackass, though.”

“You can say it’s The Bachelor, we all already know,” Sydney teases. Marcus huffs, but he’s smiling.

“Just for that, you’re goin’ now,” he replies, motioning towards her with a fork. 

“Sure, sure. Yeah, um, I’m grateful for my dad’s good health.” Sydney shrugs, nonchalant when there’s a group of “aww”s. “I am! He had this, ugh, awful case of bronchitis, but he's good now. It was scary. Tina?”

“Hm…” Tina chews thoughtfully as she thinks. “Oh! My dumbass son actually passed his finals. Even with some A’s!” She claps her hands excitedly and clasps them to rest under her chin. That gets a variety of cheers. “If he actually tries, he can be so smart. But not without stressing me the fuck out first. What about you, Rich?”

“Easy. I found that pine cologne that Marcus hates,” Richie says, smug. 

“I noticed,” Marcus replies mildly. “Everyone hates it, by the way.”

“I smell like the fuckin’ forest! It's majestic as shit.” Richie makes a show of sniffing his shirt amongst all the booing mixed with laughter. That's when he looks to Carmy’s roommate, who's been politely listening and eating. “You wanna have a go of it, guest of honor?”

“Oh, sure. Something I'm grateful for, right?” They put down their utensils and thoughtfully rub their index finger across their chin. “Well…I’m feeling pretty grateful to be eating this delicious food. It's not often I get to eat food this good.” It's not that good, Carmy wants to say to combat the fluttering in his stomach, but it's far too contradictory. He made sure to make it good since they were going to be eating it. “How about you, Carmy?”

“Huh?” Carmy's been on autopilot, comfortable to watch everyone else. He's not much of a participant. Now everyone's got their eyes on him. “I'm grateful for, uh…”

I'm grateful for that smile you get when you eat my cooking, he wants to say. I'm grateful to have someone like you.

“I'm grateful to be in good company,” Carmy says. That receives a round of hearty reactions, including a look from his roommate that he can only describe as affectionate. He pointedly looks back down at his half-eaten plate when he feels his ears getting warm. 

“Aw, you softie,” Richie snickers. “What, are we embarrassin’ you?”

“Shut it,” he mutters, but there's barely any heat behind it. His reaction only creates more laughter around the table. “Ebra, you go next.”

Little does Richie know what he's really embarrassed about. Everyone's teasing isn't helping, sure, but it's not his fellow chefs, it's them. It's their stupid smile that he keeps looking back at. It's that he knows it's from the food he made for them, it's that he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings taking up residence in his heart. 

Between the energetic chatter and the cleaned off plates, Carmy realizes that a part of what he's feeling is happiness. It's an odd sensation, which says a lot about the type of person that he is. It's the truth, though. He's just cooked a good meal for people he cares a lot about, and the happiness that has come with that is weird. 

Not bad weird, though. Good weird. 

If anyone noticed how strange he looked smiling with a fork in his mouth, they didn't mention it. 

Family goes by faster than Carmy is used to. That's what happens when you actually join in for once, he supposes. He just wasn't expecting it to wrap up so quickly. Or, it's more accurate to say he didn't want to see them go already.

“Guess you guys have to get ready for service now, right?” They've returned to his office to grab their jacket, giving the two of them a brief moment of privacy. 

“Yeah. Service starts at 3.” He sighs, and they sympathetically return his sigh. 

“Right. Well, I really enjoyed eating with everyone. And the food? Seriously, it was so good. You knocked it out of the park. I’m sure you get this all the time, but you’re seriously incredible at what you do.”

“I don’t hear that so much anymore,” he admits. “Not like I used to. Um…” He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m just glad you enjoyed it. I should really cook more outside of this place. Maybe cook for us in our kitchen for once.”

“You know I’m here for that. I could have your cooking any time,” they gush, like it doesn’t make Carmy’s heart palpitate. “I get it, through. You spend all day cooking here, I get that you don’t wanna come home and cook.”

“Yeah, but…it's different.” It's different because it’s for you, he wants to say, but as expected, he doesn’t. 

“W-What?” Suddenly, their cheeks go pink. “Well, if you put it like that…”

“...” The realization buffers in his head before fully forming. He actually said that aloud after all. Too late to take it back. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I just think, I should give you a break from making leftovers for the week,” he stutters in a weak attempt to cover his accidental affection. “And, um, I just want to, because I…”

“Because…?” He’s taking way too fucking long to finish this sentence. Their face doesn’t betray any impatience, though. It never does, and seeing that makes him relax. 

“Because I—like that you like my cooking.” 

“I love your cooking,” they correct, their smile teasing. 

“Um, right—you love—” he tries to fix his words again, but this one’s far too much to say. The butterflies in his stomach feel similar to nausea. The conflict must show on his face in an insane way, because their smile turns into a wide grin full of amusement. 

“It was a good attempt.” That makes him laugh a little. “Hey, if you’re saying I get to bring your cooking to work this next week, I’m not objecting.”

“I’ll try my best.” His eyes catch the clock on the wall. He needs to wrap this up. “I’m not trying to kick you out, but I really gotta get back now.”

“It’s cool. I should be heading out anyway. I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah,” he says, poorly hiding the affection in it, “I’ll see you at home. And, uh—thanks. For coming.”

“Of course. I had fun,” they say with a smile. “See ya.” 

He watches them leave through the entrance, hearing that familiar sound of the ringing bell, and they're gone.  

Carmy is left standing there with an odd warmth in his chest. It doesn't overwhelm him, doesn't suffocate him, just sits there. It's a strange, but nice feeling. 

This is what happiness feels like, he realizes, and in this moment, fear is nowhere to be found. 

. . . . .

The dinner rush is fine. It's just fine. It's just another thing for Carmy to get through, and he does. Just another obstacle between him and getting home. 

A wishful part of him always hopes that they'll be able to close before 10, but it is a very lofty wish to make, especially on a Saturday. With great regret, he puts his car into park at 10:44 pm. The night air is frigid and awful against his brittle dry skin and cracked lips. He can't get to his front door fast enough. 

Opening the front door sends warm gusts of heated air across his face. He can't help his relieved sigh, especially not when he sees them sitting on the couch. They’re dressed in a loose t-shirt and bike shorts, a combo that makes his heart pulse.

“Hey, welcome back.” They give him a little wave. He finds it surprisingly easy to smile and wave back. This strange joy keeps finding new ways to pop up. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Fine,” he says, because it was. It was fine. “Busy, but normal. You know how it is. Weekends.” They hum in agreement. He kicks his shoes off by the door, walks over to where they're seated. This is when he notices the laundry basket on the floor with stacks of folded clothes. They grab a sweater from the pile of clothes on the coffee table and lay it out on their lap. “Doin’ laundry?”

“Yeah. I'm trying to be responsible.” They smooth out the sweater, working out the creases in the collar with their fingers. “I think some of your socks ended up in the wash with my stuff.” They motion to a neat stack of miscellaneous white socks sitting on the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah. These are mine.” He picks them up, turns them around in his hand. “Sorry, guess I missed them when I was last doing laundry.”

“It's fine. They're just extra clean now.” 

“And folded.” He does his best to put his socks down just as they were even though he’ll have to move them anyway. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” They pull up another piece of clothing from their basket. Carmy immediately recognizes it as they throw it over to him. It’s his boxers.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes on reflex, heating up with embarrassment. He crumples it up in his hand. 

“It’s chill. Besides, didn’t you get one of my bras once?”

“Ah, yeah. I forgot,” he says, like he needed a moment to remember it. It’s all a facade. He couldn’t get that moment out of his memories he tried. It was very lacy, and it made him more nervous than someone his age should’ve been. 

“Oh, I forgot to mention when I saw you earlier. I paid the water bill today. It was 48 something.” They lean forward to grab a white envelope. The monthly payment from the water company. They flip it open and scan the paper again. “It was—48 dollars and 19 cents, to be exact.”

“Lower than last month.” He is grateful to be discussing the water bill instead of their underwear. “Much lower, actually.”

“I’ve been trying to cut back on my 30 minute showers, and I’d like to think that’s why.”

“Good job,” he says jokingly, and they pretend to bow like they’ve won an award. “I still think 30 minutes is just a little too long,” he teases after. This is a familiar conversation.

“Maybe to you, Mr. 5 minute showers,” they scoff. They kindly don’t mention how little he actually showers. “I have a lot of serious business to attend to in there! Lots of meetings, lots of calls…” They snicker, and he makes a dismissive noise, but he’s smiling. He's never been good at hiding his amusement around them. “So, yeah. Just venmo me when you get the chance.”

“Already on it,” he says. As soon as he sends it, their phone dings with the notification. 

“Thank you, thank you. And, ah, not to bombard you with more housekeeping, but I'm gonna try and go grocery shopping this monday. Wanted to ask if you need me to pick up anything.”

“Uh…” Detergent, coffee, soap, peanut butter, bread, chips, he notes in his head, rattling off a list. “I need a lot of stuff, so don't worry about it. Actually—” He turns to look at them, and they look up from their laundry with a curious look. “When were you thinking about going?”

“It's my day off, so anytime. What, wanna join me?”

“If you don't mind going in the morning, then yeah.” It feels weird, asking for accommodations like this. When you're running a business that keeps you until 10 pm everyday, though, you don't have a choice. “Like, 9 am?”

“Not earlier?” They smile knowingly. “I don't mind. We can do 8 am, if you want.”

“I wouldn't wanna make you wake up any earlier than you already have to on your day off.”

“It's no different to me, really. Besides, I'm offering.”

“Right. Uh…” I shouldn't push it, he thinks to himself with near certainty, but he stops. Takes a moment. They're offering. “Sure, then. 8 am.”

“8 am,” they reply easily. A wistful smile appears on their face. “When's the last time we've gone grocery shopping together?”

“I can't remember, so at least over a month.” That's also the last time I properly went grocery shopping, he remembers, but he doesn't want to share that. 

“Way too long.” They shake their head. “It's just hard to line our schedules up. You think it'd be easier since we live together.”

“Y'think,” he echoes tiredly. “Not like I’m makin’ it any easier, being at The Beef everyday and all.”

“Well…yeah, I suppose not. It is a little scary how long you go without a day off.” They make a face. “When's the last day you've had a day off?”

“Dunno. Just got a lot to do…all the time.”

“All the time.” They sigh. “Is that really how it's supposed to be? Being a business owner?”

“When your business is fucked, yeah.” The growing distress on their face makes the corners of his mouth twitch in an amused smile. “Scraping by from week to week.”

“Damn.” They raise their eyebrows, shake their head. “I don't know how you do it.”

“I'm used to it.” It's the truth. The longer he thinks about it, though, the festering dread starts to creep out from the hole he's kicked it in. So he changes the subject before it can come out and choke him to death. “Mind if I crack open the window for a smoke?”

“Only if you don't let me join you,” they reply with a wide grin, and he laughs. 

After changing out of his work clothes into a tank top and gray sweatpants, he sits himself at their designated window. He cracks it open just a smidge—it's too cold tonight. The cars are quiet, at least. He pulls his pack from his pocket and places a cigarette into his mouth.

“You want a cig?” Carmy asks when they take the empty seat across from him. Their smoking device of choice today is their water pipe. It looks like a juicebox from the packaging, shape, and the plastic straw arching out of it.  

“Can I just take a hit off yours instead? Not really in the mood for a whole cig right now.” He wordlessly passes his lit cig to them. They take a slow hit, the orange glow creeping up it. They look down at it and frown. “Sorry, I got a little lip gloss on it. I didn't realize I still had some on.”

“It's fine.” He takes it back and inspects it. Little oily pink smudges lay in a messy circle on the filter. “As long as it's not like that other lipstick.”

“God, no.” They drag a hand over their face. “I know I keep saying it, but I'm so sorry about that. That was mortifying.”

“Don't worry about it. Dust under the rug.” When he brings his mouth back around his cig, a faint stickiness clings to his lips. He bulldozes through the jittery feeling it brings with it. 

They sit there smoking side by side for a minute. His gaze flickers between the moving city scenery out the window and the sight of them smoking from their bubbler. Clearly one is more captivating than the other. He watches the translucent smoke fill the glass, go up the straw, and out of their lips. 

They catch him staring. His only saving grace is that he doesn't flinch. 

“You want some?” They ask, turning the bubbler towards him. So that's what they thought he was doing. He can live with that. 

“Sure, if you're offering.”

“Yeah, I am. This one's real sleepy shit, just so you know.”

“Good. I need that tonight.” The taste of the weed is strangely floral as it goes down, but he can't place what it is. “Did you mix this with something?”

“Not this time. Tastes weird though, right? It's kinda…detergent-y. One of my friends says it tastes like dryer sheets.”

“So am I smoking laundromat weed? Tide pod weed?” It's a stupid joke, but Carmy finds that the dumber the joke, the harder it makes them laugh. 

“Laundromat weed,” they wheeze. “No, it's not tide pod weed. I can't afford name brand.”

“Equate weed, then?”

“Kroger brand, actually,” they say, “but I hear Up & Up is pretty good, too.”

“I'm sure it's just as good as name-brand shit.”

“Most of the time.” 

Carmy clears the rest of the chamber of the excess smoke before sliding it back across the table to them. 

“Thanks.” The buzz is setting in. The mix of cannabis and nicotine always feels a little weird, but in a thrilling way. “I really just need to get my own shit, stop mooching off you.”

“I steal enough of your cigs, so don't worry about it.” This is when he notices that their eyes have gone a little pink from the weed. He also notes to himself that he shouldn't be looking so closely. “So, did something good happen today?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You just seem to be in a particularly good mood, is all.”

“Oh.” He immediately knows why. Surely he can't just be honest with them, but the high's lowered his barriers, and he decides to just let himself say it. “Yeah, something good did happen, now that you mention it.”

“That's good,” they say, like it has nothing to do with them. “It's nice to see you with a little less stress on you. What happened?” 

“You don't already know?” He asks, because there's no way they don't know. From the look on their face, though, they really don't. “It was you.”

“...” Their face colors. “Oh,” they say, just like he did a second ago. He likes seeing them smile with a blush to match. “I mean, I thought, maybe, I just didn't wanna assume…”

“It was nice. Having you there with everyone, I mean.” 

“They're really cool. You've got some great coworkers.”

“I do,” he replies quietly, faintly. It's true, even when he wants to let The Beef catch on fire. “Everyone really liked you.”

“Really?” The surprise is clear on their face.

“Yeah, really.” Throughout the rest of the day, the others had come up to him expressing some sort of approval. Not that he needed their approval. It felt nice, though. How'd you find someone so…nice? Marcus had asked, entirely genuine, and all Carmy could do was shrug. It was a good question.

How was a person like him allowed to have anything good in his life?

“Am I allowed to ask what they said?”

“You're allowed,” he says, amused. “Marcus said you were really nice. So did Syd. Seems you hit it off with them.”

“I think I did, too.” They sit with his reply for a moment, staring out the window and idly tapping their fingers on the bubbler. “Feels weird.”

“Weird?”

“A good weird,” they clarify. “You ever get weirded out by the fact that people talk about you when you're not there? And it's like, good things they're saying, too?”

“Constantly,” he admits. “I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.”

“Yeah.” Their hands are fiddling with the ends of their hair. “I guess I just have a hard time believing that people will think the best of me when I'm not around. Like…like, I don't know, just…”

“No, I understand.” Carmy's feels acutely more alert now. “It's like, uh, object permanence, kinda. But with—with people.”

“That's exactly it!” They exclaim, and then they deflate again. “It's stupid, but I just…”

“It's not stupid,” he assures them, and their lips quirk in a tiny smile. “If it helps, I…I don't think the worst of you when you're not around.”

“Hearing you say it aloud makes me realize how crazy it is for me to think like that,” they murmur, “but thank you. That does…that does make me feel better, actually.”

“Sure.” It's better if you don't know the details, he thinks to himself, reminiscing on naked dreams and daydreams around their bright smile. 

He really shouldn’t sit on the couch with them. It’s late, and he needs to be in his own bed at this time of night. Unfortunately, logic isn’t at the forefront when he sees them. He’s high and wants to stick to them like glue, so he does. They’ve turned on these HD videos of people making drinks. It’s like sensory videos for babies, except for adults, they told him, and that got the two of them giggling. 

It’s nice. Far too nice than what Carmy’s used to. But this time, he doesn’t want to let it go, and he’s not afraid of that, either. 

I want this to last, he thinks, unafraid, and he falls asleep listening to their voice.

. . . . .

Carmy wakes up by jolting up from the couch. He’s hunched and heaving for air, and all he can think about is that he needs to see Michael.

“Mike,” he calls out. His voice is raspy and shaken. His body feels like a piece of stretched twine. He’s about to call out for Mike again until he lifts his head to see his roommate who is definitely not Michael. 

Fuck.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Their expression is alert, but gentle. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just keeps his mouth shut and breathes heavily through his nose. He manages a nod. He imagines it doesn’t look very convincing.

“Just need a second,” he gets out. God, he sounds awful.

“You’re fine. You don’t need to explain anything, just…take your time.”

“I thought today was going to be a good day,” he gets out between gritted teeth. “Stupid. Fuckin’ stupid of me. Fuck. Mi—” He cuts himself off. That indescribable fear he thought was far has resurfaced, pushing in between the cracks in his ribs, desperate in the space it’s vying for. 

Why the fuck are his eyes hot? He shouldn’t cry. Not over this. Not over anything.

“Who’s—?” They stop themself, mouth closing in a thin line. “Sorry. I don’t need to ask.” The question starts and ends there, but he knows what they’re asking. 

Who’s Mike?

It feels like two knives sharpening each other, the tinny sound of steel against steel. It pierces him once, twisting, turning into a dull, painful ache. Like an old wound that hasn’t had enough time to heal, an old throbbing scar.

Michael.

“He...” Carmy starts, but it’s too much. It’s too much, and his hands are trembling, shaking terribly. It’s gonna happen again. He can’t do this. 

Softer hands hold his, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the back of his dry hands. With each rotation on his skin, with each lap, Carmy slows down. He returns. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” they whisper. Their hands are so gentle. “I didn’t mean to ask, it just sorta popped out.”

“No, it’s okay,” he responds without thinking, surprising even himself. Even though it’s not really okay, even though he doesn’t really wanna talk about it, maybe he does, because he hasn’t gone completely silent yet. “He was my brother.”

“Ah...” Realization sets in their voice. “I see.”

“He was a drug addict,” he explains, pretending like saying it doesn’t feel like crumbling dough, like sugar dissolving into boiling water. “Killed himself.”

The grip on his hands tighten. He appreciates the feeling. 

This is the mark you’ve left, Carmy thinks suddenly. How fucked up is that, Mike? The first thing I tell people is the last thing you ever did. When did you stop being my best friend and start being my older brother who killed himself?

“I’m sorry,” they say quietly, because of course they do. That’s all anyone can think to say. Carmy’s too tired to feel angry about that anymore. “When did he pass away?”

“Last February,” he answers like it’s a quiz question, like it doesn’t mean anything. “It’ll be a year in a couple months.”

“I see.” Their hands are holding his gently again. Carmy finds he prefers this. “That must’ve been really hard. Still is, I’m sure.”

“...Still is, yeah. Especially with the restaurant. It was his,” he explains, when he sees the confusion beginning in their eyes. “He was the previous owner, and he left it. To me.”

“So that’s why you’re here and not in New York?” They ask. He nods. 

“I’m trying to fix it.” He doesn’t say I’m fixing it, because that would mean he’s made progress. 

“I don’t know how it was before, but it seems like you are fixing it. I know I’ve barely been there, you know it a million times better than I do, it just...it seems like people are happy there.”

“Happy,” he muses. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Everyone seems to really like you,” they go on. “That’s something, isn’t it?” 

“It is. Doesn’t fix the debt, but...” He shrugs half-heartedly. No, not even half. Quarter-heartedly. “It’s somethin’.”

“I had no clue.” There’s something regretful, rueful in their words. “This whole time, you’ve just been...”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. 

“...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he backtracks. “I just mean...don’t give me your pity,” he mutters. It’s a bitter thing to say. Luckily, he’s so drained it comes out without any of the venom. It’s better that way. They don’t deserve his poison. 

“It’s not pity,” they argue, their reply so instant it sobers him. “It’s...respect, I guess.”

“Respect?”

“Yeah. You’ve got a lot on your plate. I couldn’t handle all the stuff you do, but you’re doing great.”

“I barely sleep most nights,” he says suddenly. He’s unsure why. It’s like he has to prove something. “When I do, there’s nightmares. You saw that tonight and yesterday. I almost burned down the house. My stomach’s still fucked. I’m not...” His eyes feel hot again. Breathing suddenly feels different. There’s ringing, static clogging his ears. “I’m not doing great,” he realizes with stunning, raw clarity, and the pain of it knocks the wind out of him. 

“You’re doing great,” they say again. “Look at me, Carmy.”

He looks at them. Their eyes are warm. 

"I,” he starts, but he’s having an awful time trying to breathe. When he inhales, he feels like he’s splintering, a unified whole breaking into jagged, drifting parts. 

Dread overtakes him in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t want them to see him like this. Hasn’t he already done enough?

“Breathe in with me.” They inhale, slowly, counting to 8. He counts with them like a lifeline, which it partially is. His breaths come out staggered, but he claws forward. Tries his best to keep his eyes interlocked with theirs. “And exhale...”

He clings onto every beat in their voice, every circle their thumbs make. Their words wrap around him, bringing the broken pieces back together, clicking them into place again. They restore his sense of gravity, returning his feet to solid ground with every breath. 

“You’re okay,” they say softly. One of their hands moves up to brush back hair from his face. The feeling of their fingers tucking hair behind his ear makes his eyes flutter briefly shut.

“I’m okay,” he whispers back. It doesn’t sound very convincing. Fake it until you make it, he reminds himself. 

“You’re okay.” They take one last deep breath with him, and when he exhales, his head feels clear again. 

“Sorry. That was...” He shakes his head. “I don’t usually...”

“Never gotten one of those before?”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve had tons of panic attacks before, just...not in front of anyone else,” he finishes awkwardly. 

“Yeah?” Carmy finds himself looking down at their conjoined hands instead of their eyes. “Well, you certainly don’t have to apologize. I get them too, from time to time.”

“Thank you. For...calming me down.” He takes another deep breath to steady himself. “It helped a lot.”

“No problem.” There’s that glowing smile he can’t get enough of. “How’re you feeling now?”

“I…” He tries to pinpoint something in all the noise. It’s proving difficult. “I’m calmer,” he notices. 

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know what to, how to, explain my…feelings.” The words are so haphazardly put together that he stammers as they tumble on the way out of his mouth. 

“Don’t worry, you’re doing great.” From anyone, the sentiment would make him shut down even more, turn his head the other way. From them, though…

“I’m okay,” he says, and it’s the truth. “I think, um, just a lot hit me all at once.”

“I get it. It often happens like that, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I just...” He briefly shuts his eyes, and there’s a flash of Michael. “It’s hard. Doing all this without him.” They nod. “I never wanted to. Not on my own.”

“He must’ve been a great guy.”

“He was,” he starts, and his throat closes up. They seem to understand, because they don’t say anything else. He doesn’t say it, but he’s glad for it. This is all he can bear. 

It’s hard to put into words, the way Carmy feels right now. He’s never been great at describing how he feels, even when he was a kid. Sometimes he’d cry about the wrong things, and he wouldn’t cry at the right things. But there wasn’t quite any right or wrong way to feel. It just was. It just is. 

The grief comes in waves. It always has, and it always will. Each wave is a natural disaster on its own, a tsunami that fills his lungs with water, leaving nothing in its wake. But something about this one just washed slowly over him, leaving just droplets of water in his hair. If anything, he just feels...lighter. 

He supposes this is what really trusting someone feels like.

The moment of peace is eventually ruined by his stomach growling. Loudly.

“Hungry?” They say first with an amused grin.

“I guess.” He hadn’t realized. “I didn’t eat much today.”

“Hm, I do suppose you had a late lunch, too, if that matters.”

“Sure. That’s also all I had to eat today.” He doesn’t know why he lets that slip, but he does. 

“Oh no!” That makes them jump up, detaching their hands from his. He tries not to mourn the loss for too long. “No wonder you’re hungry.”

“It’s fine. It’s like this sometimes,” he says, like it’s a normal and healthy thing to be doing. “Just one of those days.” They frown. 

“What do you do when your stomach gets like this? What do you eat?”

“I don’t eat,” he answers honestly, and they gasp. 

“Carmy! That is not the answer. I mean, like, don’t force it down, but is there really nothing you can stomach?”

“If I start chewing, I just feel worse. I’ll usually just have some water and a cigarette. If I have time, coffee.”

“You can’t be having that French girl breakfast. You just can’t.” That gets a laugh out of him. “You’re becoming a French girl, and you’re laughing. Carmy! This is serious.” That only makes him laugh harder. 

“Do all French girls also have stomach issues?” He wheezes out. That sets off their laughter. 

“I don’t know. You tell me, Ms. France.”

“Wait, stop, I don’t wanna be in a beauty pageant.”

“Then stop following their diet! Look—” They try to speak again, and they cut themself off with more laughter. “Okay. No. I’m fine. I’m not laughing. You, you need to eat. No skipping meals.”

“I usually end up having lunch,” he argues.  

“Y’know, as someone whose whole life is food, I would expect you to know the importance of breakfast more.”

“Just because I know it’s important doesn’t mean I’m gonna have it.”

“Hm. I don’t love your reasoning. Stop laughing! I’m mad at you. I’m so mad I’m gonna give you homework.”

“Homework? Just so you know, I wasn’t a good student.”

“It’s okay, I grade on a curve. Here’s your homework—you are going to use my protein powder that is sitting in the cabinet to the right of the fridge, and you’re going to put it in some milk. And then you’re gonna drink that shit. That’s what I have when I wake up nauseous.”

“I think I can try that.” His cheeks hurt from smiling. “Do you accept late work?” That makes them sigh dramatically, making a show of it.

“I suppose. Just don’t make it a habit! I won’t be this lenient every time.”

“Yeah, you will,” Carmy says without thinking. They gasp.

“No, I won’t! I can be mean.”

“I don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

“That’s actually a really nice thing to say, but keep this up and you’ll see my mean side!”

He doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does. That just ruffles them up further. 

“You just don’t seem real, sometimes,” he admits. “It scares me.”

“It does?” He has to commend them for their calm reaction. 

“Good things scare me, I think. I know that's…fucked up, but…”

“No, it makes sense. It shouldn't, but…it does to me.” He can't place their expression. It's some mixture of nostalgic and haunted. Or maybe just plain haunted. 

“Yeah?” They nod. “That's not good,” he mumbles, and the beauty of their shared, awful truth makes them both smile. 

“Well.” Their cheeks are less flushed, but there's still a dusting of color, like faint cocoa powder on cake. “I promise that I am, in fact, very real.”

“Pinky promise?” Carmy doesn't know where that comes from. They have a habit of bringing a strange silliness out of him. 

“Pinky promise. I'll even prove it to you.”

“How do you plan on doing that, exactly?” 

“Easy.” They outstretch their arms, and it clicks in his head with a rush. “Unless you're the sort of person that's not into hugging.”

“No, I am.” The words rush out, as if they're desperate to keep the offer on the table. “I mean, I hug my family when I see ‘em.”

“I'll admit, I'm a hugger. I give my friends hugs all the time. I just didn't know if you minded that sort of thing.”

“I don't mind. I like them, um…just don't usually initiate ‘em, I guess.” The anticipation is speeding up the beat of his heart like a coach on the sidelines. 

“Then bring it in, big guy,” they say, and he leans in.

The last time they hugged each other, Carmy was sleep-deprived and they were half-lucid from alcohol. This time is different. It's purposeful, tight, and all-encompassing. Their arms go over his shoulders and link around his neck to bring him in close. His arms naturally slot underneath theirs, meeting in the middle of their back. 

He can feel their hair tickling his neck. His heartbeat is in his ears, and he prays they can't hear it. They squeeze him, light, and his eyes flutter shut. 

“This is better,” Carmy whispers. He doesn't know why he's whispering. He supposes his mouth being so close to their ear makes him quiet. 

“Better than what?” Their voice has gone soft to match his. The vibrations next to his ear send a slim shiver up his spine. 

“Than the first time we hugged.” He pauses. “Unless you don't remember.”

“I remember.” They laugh, breathy and shy. “God. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“It didn't.” He tightens his hold on them. He doesn't know if they meant for the hug to last this long, but they're warm and perfect to hold. They smell like smoke and a flower he can't place. 

“Good.” He feels them turning their head, shifting their face into his hair, and he thinks his heart is going to explode, turning into a red jam inside of him. “So, am I real or what?”

“Mm, you're real. You've convinced me.” He thinks he could fall asleep like this. Sadly, as soon as he says that, they take it as the cue to unlink their bodies. 

Their hair's messy from where it was pressed up against the side of his head. He notices how cold he feels without them.

“If you need reminding, just let me know.” Their cheeks are rosy again. Cute. “Like I said, I'm a hugger, so…”

“I wouldn't be opposed.” I think I need that, actually, he thinks to himself. 

“Okay. Good to know.” 

“Um.” Awkwardness is suddenly his primary emotion. “Shit, I didn't even think to check the time. What time is it?”

“Lemme check.” They pull out their phone from their pocket. “12:40 am.”

Carmy sighs. 

“Better than I thought.” When he stands up off the couch, he feels every aching muscle protesting in disapproval. “I should sleep in my actual bed. But, um…” He fidgets with his hands, anxious. “Thank you. For staying with me. And talking to me about stuff.”

“You don't have to thank me. Thank you for trusting me with all that.” They cock their head to the side as they look up at him. Cute, he thinks again, unbearably. “I feel like I know you a lot better.” 

“Mm.” Carmy feels his face getting hot, meaning he has to change the topic as quickly as possible. “It feels nice. Being known by you. I…” He thinks about that night he held their hair behind them as they cried into the toilet. I want to know you, Carmy, they whispered, beautifully genuine even in their drunken stupor. “I want to know you, too,” he finally allows himself to say, and he knows by the full feeling in his chest that it's the truth. 

They get that shy smile he's seen so much of today. Carmy realizes he likes that he's the one that keeps making them smile like that. 

“Okay, then. I wouldn't mind that.” They stand up from the couch next, and they stretch their arms far above their head. “Maybe another night, though. It's late.”

“Right. I didn't mean��”

“Hey, if we didn't both have work tomorrow, I'd love to keep talking.” There goes their uncanny ability to wash his anxieties away so easily, a washcloth dissolving dirt. They start walking down the hallway to their bedrooms, and he trails behind them on instinct. “But I think we've kept each other up late too many nights recently.” 

“I think so, yeah.” Without context, that'd make his stomach squirm with the implications. Their bedroom's first down the hall, so they move to hover in their doorway. “Um,” he starts, a sudden unspeakable urge gripping him, “just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Fuck it, Carmy thinks. Fuck it. 

With only minimal hesitation, he leans down and pulls them into a hug. They make a small noise of surprise, but they reciprocate almost instantly.

“Just wanted to double check,” he mumbles. He keeps the hug short this time, because he knows if he doesn't, he won't be able to let go. 

“Still real, right?” 

“Still real.”

“Good idea, to double check.” They step backwards, one hand on their door. “G'night, Carmy. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“G'night,” he murmurs back. “See you.”

I'm fucked, Carmy realizes once the door shuts. The hallway is dark, and there is an unusual amount of good in his life. I'm so fucked. 

~

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto

[lamemaster]

Beloved Patchwork

Request: I had a question about your fall event, is it a request thing? If not then feel free to just use this as inspiration. If so I think it would be hella cool to have glorfindel x female reader in a Frankenstein au seeing as he was reborn! Like the original Frankenstein where the 'creature' was abandoned(more like betrayed,poor thing) by his creator and he meets a kind stranger who takes him in, gradually discovering the horror of what he is yet caring for him anyways. Protecting him from terrified villagers, teaching him how the world works again, the 'creature' in this version being able to live a normal life with the one he loves instead of what went down in the og story.

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader (Platonic)

Genre: Frankenstein au

AN: Thanks for requesting! And the OG creature deserved so much more. Poor Pookie since 1818.

Warning: Gore, descriptions of blood, necromancy. Canon was optional

Fuck. 

You stare at the mass of twitching flesh. Your creation- now entering the world of living. 

Shit. 

You bit your nails as the golden hair lit up with an unexplained glimmer. Your clumsy sutures disappear into seamless unmarred flesh. From an amalgamation of flesh emerges a creature. The elf. 

Reborn in the land of his death. You stare back at the Balrog Slayer, who blinks with the first echoes of consciousness. 

Necromancy was not your usual forte. You mostly preferred to stick to much more acceptable forms of medicine. Yet, as if led by an invisible hand, this creation had come to be. 

Stuck in the trance of passion your hands rebuilt him piece by piece. His heart that lay cold, still for ages, fluttered under your fingers as they pressed life back into it. It had been long since you had felt any such command from your creator. A tug so strong that you were certain of his desire.

The Balrog Slayer’s corpse had long merged back into the Earth it was laid to rest in. So, you had to be creative. Peeling off the meticulous layers of sinew, muscle, and skin tissue, you laid it over his unyielding, surviving bones. 

Mass of men discarded in alleyways, in some cases using the flesh of swine, to sew into the delicate tip of his ear. 

The most concerning however, was the crushed skull and sludgy brain matter. A problem that your creator did not lend much help with. 

A Maia of Lorien would’ve been helpful, you grumble stitching the fine hair of his eyelashes on his eyelids. 

Why is it, whenever something happens it is Maia of Aule found in the most incriminating position. You shuddered at the thought of your Vala ever finding out your current predicament in Middle Earth- hunched over a dead elf sewing dead flesh procured from questionable sources. 

You did not wish to remind him of your brother. The great Mairon, who somehow was engaged in the same trade. The creator had some twisted humor. 

All this you whispered to the still dead elf. Rambling as your hands remained busy. 

You sit unmoving as the elf now crouches in front of you- no better than a beast, licking your hand clean. His mind was yet to awaken. 

For now, you had the pleasure of watching Balrog Slayer purr curled up in your lap. His eyes were full of infantile wonder. His throat let out small chirps intermittently.

“Glorfindel,” you call his name hoping for some form of recognition in his eyes. Perhaps a magical appearance of consciousness. 

You truly did not wish to open his skull and retry a new brain model. It was tedious at best. And soul sucking at worst. 

Cursing in Khuzdul you ponder on next steps. You beloved creator was silent. As if cutting off the puppet strings that made you bring this creature to life. This really did put you at crossroads about the new brain or working on the current brain. 

Shifting your form into an elven one, you sit comfortably, positioning Glorfindel into a remotely civil posture. With a single finger pointed at his chest you enunciate his name, “Glorfindel, Glor-Fin-Del” 

Watching the awkward stretch of his lips you encourage the Balrog slayer to repeat after you. 

Glorfindel loves you. That he knows. He likes your hair, and how sometimes you change its color to match it to his hair.

He also really likes all the names you tell him and how proudly you pat his back when he memorizes them correctly. 

Love is the newest word you have taught him. In the language of trees, birds, air, humans, elves, and dwarves. He has memorized it. Love was weird. Glorfindel had never held it. You have explained that it could not be held in hands or in pans or buckets. That love was like fragrance. It can be felt in mediums. 

Like the scent of magnolia that you bled into the oils and soaps. Love was a smile, laughter, sweet berries, or the act of a bird building a nest for its young ones. 

His hands mimic yours as you teach him the right way to pet a cat. He feels love under his fingers as the little cat mewls at him. 

So, perched beneath his favorite tree, Glorfindel tells it all about your cottage, your languages, your bizarre friends, and tales of the past long gone.

Staring at the sword that has materialized in your cottage you feel the tug of fate again. It is his destiny to return to the world of the Children of Illuvatar. Not even you can keep him away from it. 

This sword would replace delicate blooms, fragile sparrows, and purring cats, he seems to adore. Glorfindel was a hero. His return had a purpose greater than the mundane of your constructed life. 

You are to teach him the act of swordplay. Make him into the hero he died as. Yet, your days were spent ignoring the sword. 

You do not wish to see calluses on his innocent hands. For years you protected him from the dark of the world. From the shadow of your own twin who could not for the end of the world join his doomed lover in the Void. 

Why must he pay the price, you question your creator. Why must he pay for my brother? Let me be the one to pay. You grovel in moments of desperation.

Closing your eyes- wishing for the sword to disappear. Hoping that the arrival of the beautiful white stallion was not to take your ward back to the world of despair. 

That you could stay here forever oblivious to him. Let him braid Asfaloth’s mane and hum songs. Had he not paid enough for the sake of others?

Such fondness for the firstborn had been the curse of your kind. Love, that had led to the creation of Valinor. Ainur could not be stopped from loving the music of their creator.

What would the other Istari think of you? Alatar and Palando were evasive on most days, Saruman would be prompted to report it back to Aule but Olorin perhaps would understand. He too had fallen in love with the endearing children of Illuvatar.

So, you pen your friend a letter. A scheme to reintroduce the heroic Balrog Slayer to his people. To make him into the beacon of hope from the West.

[theficpusher]

Falling For You by YesIsAWorld | G | 1425 Five times Harry orders very particular drinks, and one time Louis finds out why. Featuring Starbucks’ fall menu.

tell me what you need by disgruntledkittenface | G | 2497 “And a fresh cherry?” he asks, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. He waits as Louis stares him down, his brow furrowing. “No? What the fuck,” Louis rasps, looking bewildered.

Matcha Me and Matcha You by LadyLondonderry | G | 2508 Louis does not like the douche, and the douche clearly looks down on him. Therefore sometimes when Louis is in the walk-in freezer, he keeps himself warm with thoughts of punching his Boarding School Face. And the day he sees the douche walk into the cafe with someone new, he decides he can’t stomach the idea of his new partner going on unawares of just what a douche he’s on a date with.

in the right place and time by weareonceinalifetime | M | 4790 Louis is a barista. Harry is a regular with bad taste in clothes who really likes coconut milk dirty chais. Somehow it works.

I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by FallingLikeThis | nr | 5311 Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.

Stay forever by allwaswell16 | E | 6481 For the last year and a half, Harry has spent his coffee break at the same cafe every day, not because he loves their coffee, but rather because of the gorgeous omega behind the counter making the coffees. As a beta, he’s sure he doesn’t stand a chance with him, so he goes online to find as close a substitute as possible. A camboy au

Nothing Please Me More Than You by lululawrence | M | 8196 This guy came in every day and without fail said or did something that made Louis pause and puzzle over what it meant. His accent was American, but it had to be some regional dialect from nearby or something because everything sounded sharper when he spoke. A little more crisp. Like he’d worked with one of those dialect coaches that had been used when talking pictures first started being made. Louis shook his head and tried to rid himself of lectures from the film history course he’d taken last semester. It obviously had no bearing on what was going on with hot dude in the corner. Still, Louis would love to pick his brain and figure out where he was from. How his hair always looked so perfect. If he liked to kiss boys. Or...the one where Louis is a barista and Harry is the hot dude that comes in every day and does nothing except sit in the corner, writing in his notebook, all day long. But what Louis learns when he sneaks a peek inside the notebook changes everything.

Dust on the Road. by Velvetoscar | nr | 18308 Louis is definitely fine and Lottie is definitely crushing on her French teacher, and these two things have nothing to do with each other. Except they do. And Louis is not fine.

I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by homosociallyyours | T | 34322 Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype. It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

[euphor1a]

Bewitched (ii)

↬ pairing: bad boy!yeonjun x good girl!oc

↬ characters: loner bad boy!yeonjun, heartthrob!soobin, best friend!beomgyu, female oc (can be read as f!reader too) + a few supporting characters.

↬ genre: college!au, bad boy!au, slow burn, drama, strangers to lovers, smut, a bit of unrequited love.

↬ summary: After starting college, you never really imagined that you’ll cross paths with Choi Yeonjun — the loner bad boy with influences. But life is full of surprises, ain’t it?

↬ rating & word count: 18+ ; ~2.8K

↬ warnings: profanity, explicit description of f!masturbation, minor fainting.

↬ disclaimer: this is fictional and doesn’t reflect any of their actions or personality!

↬ previous 𓍯 series masterlist

↬ a/n: my apologies because it’s actually been ages since i posted the part one. thank you so much for your patience! we’re back <3

Lying flat on your bed, you gaze at the ceiling, watching the fan rotate tirelessly. It keeps going round and round. Unironically, it resembles the thoughts churning inside your head somehow. But, you’re not some machinery, and it’s draining you out.

Inhaling a deep breath, you close your eyes for the first time in a while, tilting your head sideways. It would be so nice if you could just turn off your brain. You let yourself sink into the mattress and pillow as your hands turn into loose fists.

It’s been five days. 5 freaking days, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, 432,000 seconds since you last saw Daniel. Maybe you sound obsessed, crazy even. But isn’t it his fault? No cause, how dare he barge into your life like a tornado and flip every unsaid rule you used to follow? It doesn’t even end there. 

You feel intoxicated. You can’t get the thought of him out of your head, for the love of God. The soft crinkles on his face when he smiles, how his eyes sparkle, the enticing smell of his cologne, his hands all over your body, how his tongue felt against your core, the way he devoured your mouth—

Gosh, you need to stop. Catch a fucking break. This is getting way out of your hands. You’ve never been so distracted your whole life. And you hate the fact that he has so much power over you. He, who is just a random guy you met twice on the same day coincidentally and crossed a few lines with. Just?! Why?! Can’t?! You?! Get?! Over?! Him?!

You open your eyes, your eyebrows furrowed and lips tugged down in a frown. As your eyes mindlessly wander towards the ceiling fan once again, the events of that damned day start playing in front of your eyes. Was it really a coincidence? Or maybe a sick joke your life played with you? 

After he dropped you to your home that night, you had hoped to see more of him. But instead, Daniel just simply vanished into thin air. You’ve been trying to find him everyday in your breaks, sometimes even missing classes. Unbelievable, right? Too bad that it’s the very unfortunate truth.

But did that help in any shape or form? Nope. If he’s been around, you’d have definitely noticed!! As much as you hate to admit it, he’s insanely handsome. Daniel’s striking features will stand out anywhere, and in your case — it’s literally imprinted on your mind.

With a sigh, you close your eyes. Not to sound like a hopeless romantic, but a part of you hopes that he’ll be here to meet you soon. Like, he literally has your address!! But, on the realistic side of things, that is very unlikely to happen. 

Soon enough, the thought of Daniel envelops you in a warm feeling, your heart racing faster, your mind starting to play tricks with you. You briefly remember how his clothed bulge felt against your core, a soft whimper escaping you. Oh, how badly you needed to feel him deep inside you at that specific moment… 

You shake your head immediately, trying to clear your mind. What the hell are you doing? Fantasizing about a guy who just suddenly appeared one day and then vanished? You curse inwardly, feeling pathetic for being wrapped around his little finger. 

You hate this Daniel guy. Just one day and your feelings are all over the place. You barely spent a few hours with him, and you’re already so damn whipped. 

With a groan, you sit up, reaching for your phone that’s charging on the nightstand. You’re shocked to see several messages from Beomgyu… Did something happen?

Gyu: haiiii 🥰 

Gyu: bestie?! 👁️👄👁️ 

Gyu: HELLO?!?!?!?!?!?!? 

Gyu: OMFG, ____ R U OK 😭 

Gyu: :( 3 hours… you never take so long to reply 🥺 

Gyu: did i upset you in any way? 

Gyu: won’t tease you anymore… pls talk to me :( imy :( 

A sigh escapes you. Even though a part of you wants to be irritated, you really can’t. Because as you look at the time, you realize that you’ve been zoning out for nearly four hours. Of course, he’s worried, you’d be the same if you were in his shoes. 

____: Gyu 😭 no ofc not! Why would I be mad at you? 

Gyu: THANK GOD YOU REPLIED, I PANICKED NGL 

Gyu: ahem… anyway, why weren’t you responding then? 

____: Sorry, I was busy with smth :/ 

Gyu: really? for 4 hours? 🤥

____: … I was working on an assignment

Gyu: right… but you already submitted the one you had and no one assigned anything new

____: WHY DO I TELL YOU EVERY FUCKING THING GODDAMMIT 

Gyu: watch your language, princess 🤨

____: 🙄

Gyu: anyway lol, since you won’t tell me, let me take a WILD guess

Gyu: daydreaming about that mystery stranger again, are you? 🤡

____: …..

Gyu: yeah, ik 

____: You don’t understand….. 

Gyu: what???? 😩

____: Nothing…

Gyu: 😐

Gyu: see, this is the problem! you won’t even tell me his damn name! how am i supposed to help you out? 🤷‍♂️

____: It’s complicated 😭, I’d tell you otherwise :( 

____: You know that I’d never hide something from you if it’s harmless, right?

Gyu: WAIT 🤯😱

____: ????

Gyu: is he…. like a mafia? 😳

____: Aight imma just head out 

Gyu: sorry…

Gyu: umm it’s pretty late so have some good sleep and let’s meet on monday 🥺

Frustration bubbles up in your chest and you drop your phone by your side. A nap? Sleeping in this state? Fuck no. You need to ease yourself somehow.  

After debating what you should do for a while, you slowly take off the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing. Starting to caress your sensitive skin, you whimper, your hands brushing on your inner thighs, your sides, your neck… anywhere it can reach. Once you feel the material of your cotton panties dampening up, you grab the vibrator from your bedside drawer. 

Because you’ve been thinking almost too much about Daniel and everything that he did to you, it’s very easy to picture him all over you. The device hums to life, and you waste no time to place it over your clothed clit. You jolt a little at the contact, overwhelmed by the sensations immediately. 

You wish it was him. For some reason, you just know that Daniel would love to use a vibrator on you, watching you cry and whine pathetically, begging for him as you fall apart quickly. You tweak your nipple with your spare hand, heat blazing through your body as you inch closer to a release. 

“Look at you, making a mess of yourself while thinking about me. Aren’t you cute?” His voice drifts in your ears, a whimper rumbling in your throat. “Just a little more, angel, you’re so close. Doing so well.” 

You unconsciously scream out ‘Daniel’ in relief as the orgasm finally hits you. With shaky hands, you turn off the vibrator, falling back on the bed. Your breaths are uneven and quick, thighs shaking from the aftermath. It takes you a while to regain composure. 

With a sigh, you get up and head straight to the bathroom, discarding your panties that are entirely ruined, drenched in your arousal and release. As the mildly warm spray of water finally hits your skin, you close your eyes, a plethora of emotions bubbling up in your chest. A lone tear trails down your cheek, followed by numerous ones that get lost within the water coming from the shower head.

Shame. You feel ashamed.

On Monday, 

You manage your way through the crowded cafeteria, looking for your friends. Some acquaintances beam and wave at you, but you barely offer them a small smile and a nod. You aren’t feeling your best today either, running on a very small amount of sleep and mood swings to top it off. Dealing with yourself is pretty tiring, especially when your emotions are all over the place.

A sudden feeling of someone’s gaze behind your back makes you halt. You turn around, letting your eyes roam over the tables behind you. Everyone seems to be minding their own business, as they should. Taking a deep breath, you go back to finding Beom-binnie. 

“____! Here!” Gyu’s voice takes your attention, a genuine smile blooming on your face automatically. You jog across the room to where they’re sitting, both of them standing up to wrap you up in a hug. You cozy up a lil’ in the comfortable warmth of them, the loud beating of Soobin’s heart surprising you. Is he… nervous? 

You pull away first, looking at Soobin strangely. Beomgyu touches your forearm in a worried manner before speaking up, “Hey? Everything alright? Don’t tell me that you’re falling for the heartthrob.” His tone is playful as usual. 

Soobin blushes heavily, his ears turning red as he avoids eye contact with both of you. On the other hand, Gyu bursts out laughing, holding onto his stomach. Cute, you think, amazed by these two polar opposites that are somehow attached at the hip. 

You roll your eyes, smacking Beomgyu jokingly. He immediately scrunches up his face in ‘pain’, earning a glare from you. “Shut up, crackhead! I was just wondering why Soob’s heartbeat is so fast.”

Beomgyu throws his friend a knowing look. You quirk your eyebrows at their shared look before enquiring, “Are you two hiding something? No cause, what was that? Literally!” 

The tall giant stutters for a bit, but Beomgyu is quick to cover for him. “He’s meeting someone today.” 

“A date?” You tap your chin thoughtfully. Wondering what exactly it could be.

“No, no!!!” Soobin interrupts, coughing, clearly embarrassed by his sudden outburst. “I’m meeting the devil himself today… It’s been a while since our last meeting, so I’m just nervous, haha.” 

You blink at him, throwing your hands up. “Can we sit? My leg hurts.” Both of the guys nod, Gyu sliding beside you whereas Soobin sits on your opposite. 

“So? Who’s this ‘devil’?” You wiggle your eyebrows, trying to extract some juicy information.

Beomgyu looks at you, his eyes dark. “Yeonjun. Choi Yeonjun.” 

“Oh–” You know this name. You’ve heard people gossiping about this irresistibly charming ‘bad boy’. But you’ve never seen him in your life. 

“Soobin? Why do you need to meet with him?” You ask, slightly worried about your friend. Your impression of bad boys isn’t the best. 

“He’s… um– I need his help.” Soobin mumbles. 

“Why?” You press further.

“He’s a senior. He can help.” He answers, avoiding details.

“Oh yeah! No need to flex on us. Go meet with your cool seniors and stuff, me and ____ will be here.” Gyu chimes in, disrupting the heavy tension between you and Soobin.

You sigh, giving up. He clearly looks unwilling to talk about this more. “So when will you be meeting him?” you ask nonchalantly. 

“Near four pm, before leaving.” Soobin licks his dry lips, offering you a shaky smile.

You frown upon hearing the time, grumbling, “But… but we are supposed to hangout today!” 

Beomgyu pats your back, “Yeah, we were talking about it before you came. Soobin, tell us what you’re gonna do. If you’re not gonna come, then I’ll take her. She’s been sad lately.” 

Soobin’s face falls, his hand gripping yours as he talks in a gentle voice, “What happened, ____? Is everything alright?” 

You look at your joined hands, a pang of anger causing you to pull away. “Everything is fine. I don’t need anyone to worry about me.” 

“____...” Soobin sighs, looking at Beomgyu for help. 

“Hey it’s okay, shhh.” Gyu pulls you in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder. 

A long, uncomfortable silence stretches, the buzzing of the cafeteria fading away as you three stay trapped in the situation. 

“Okay, listen.” Soobin speaks up, his eyes focused on you. “Wait for me outside our favorite spot. I’ll be here… maybe a bit late but I’ll be there for sure.” 

Beomgyu smiles, “Good idea. No harm done, right miss universe?”

You pout at him, nodding and pulling away from his embrace. Your gaze finally meets Soobin, the hope glimmering in his eyes almost making you feel bad. 

“Mhm.” That’s all you say. 

In the evening, you find yourself with Beomgyu, walking together by the side of the quaint river. The streetlights illuminate the paved path as you take small steps. He’s the first one to break the silence. 

“So? Still thinking about that mystery guy?” 

You look up at him, your lips parting as a sigh escapes you. “... Yeah. You can say that.” 

“Can you at least tell me why you are thinking about this guy? Are you like, interested in him romantically?” 

You nod silently, looking at your feet shyly. Beomgyu claps your back, a smirk on his lips, “Great going, huh? Behind our back? So please tell me more about him. And, don’t stress it. I won’t ask his name if you’re that uncomfortable sharing.” 

You hesitate a bit, reaching out to squeeze his hand in gratitude. “I don’t really know… he has a fancy race car, and uh… ” You trail off, unsure what to say.

“Don’t tell me that you’re interested because of his car.” Gyu snorts, laughing at his own joke.

“No! It’s his vibes actually… he makes me feel, you know… things.” You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Ooohhh.” He throws you a meaningful look, but you smack his forearm in return. 

“Pervert! Can’t you think straight?” A huff leaves you, and Beomgyu almost falls down laughing.

“Oh– oh my god! I meant it in the most innocent way possible! Holy shit, did you two… get down to business??” 

The thought of his mouth on your pussy comes back to you, and you hide your face in your hands instinctively.

“Ooof, that sure answers my question! Get it girl! My girl got laid, gosh I’m so happy!!” He hoots, and you swear you just want to strangle him. If only he wasn’t that much taller—

“No! We just kissed! Get your head out of the gutter!” You insist, not the biggest fan of Beomgyu’s enthusiasm about your sex-life. 

His smile falters. “Ehh... Boring. Just a kiss? Nothing else? Are you sure?” 

Before you can even mentally prepare yourself to fight him, the sound of a loud motorbike engine catches both of you off-guard. You turn to the side quickly, pulling Beomgyu with you. 

“Thank you once again, I really appreciate it!” Soobin’s voice makes you look back at where you were just standing. There he is, several feet away, talking to the stranger who just dropped him off here.

“Whoa… who’s this with the scary looking bike?” Beomgyu whispers in your ear, pointing towards the guy wearing a helmet. 

You shake your head out of uncertainty, watching them as Soobin hands the person the helmet he was wearing. 

“Thank you! Will meet you soon again!” 

The stranger nods, but then, he looks to the side, finally spotting you and Beomgyu. 

Color drains from your face, the person’s gaze meeting yours through the glass panel of helmet. You’re taken back to eight days before, those same eyes looking into yours, sparkling in the moonlight before he leans in for a kiss. 

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel yourself getting dizzy. Beomgyu, standing by your side with no clue, catches you before you can fall down. In the back of your mind, you can hear the sound of the bike fading away.

Your eyes flutter, consciousness slowly coming back to you. “Oh, I think she’s waking up,” you hear, opening your eyes to find yourself in Soobin’s arms. Beomgyu dabs your face with a wet paper towel, tension melting away from his handsome features when your eyes meet. 

“____! Thank god you’re up! Are you okay?? Should we call an ambulance?” 

You wave your hands, motioning him to stop. There’s a throbbing pain on your head. But still, you slowly sit up on the bench they had laid you down on, clearing your throat. After all, you have much more important things to take care of. 

“Soobin?” You whisper, your voice cracking. 

“Yeah?” He tucks away the messy locks behind your ear, his eyes so gentle that for a moment you forget your question. 

“Who was that guy with you? Do you mind sharing his contact info with me?” 

Soobin looks as if lightning struck him, his jaw dropping. “I’m sorry but are you mad?? What are you gonna do with Choi Yeonjun’s contact? I don’t have it either way but what the hell are you saying?” 

You gulp nervously, Beomgyu’s worried gaze trailing over your face. “That was… Yeonjun?” 

Beomgyu cups your cheek. “Well yeah. Why, ____? Is everything alright? I noticed how shocked you were when Yeonjun looked at us.”

A cold shiver runs down your spine. “It’s… nothing.” You murmur, actually starting to feel sick. 

end of part ii ↺ next

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 end notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading! i hope it was enjoyable! 🥺💙 sorry for any mistakes left in there!

as always, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! your support keeps me motivated 🌺🌟 you can also send feedback through asks <33

[randommotogpstuff]

Currently thinking over your time loop AU... Already obsessed! Like literally it's so good! Definitely scratches my brain.

I was thinking about a race in the loop (maybe tw, it's a little dark) that might accidentally killed/ heavily injures Marc. And Vale might be involved/ responsible. So he kind of goes crazy and is just praying to go to bed and wake up the same morning. He does everything to fall asleep and everyone is worried about him. Cause one of them has just died/ been badly injured and he his cursing and drinking himself to sleep?

He is so desperate to get him back, not just to have that weight lifted off but because a world in which Marc doesn't lives and smiles seems like a world that's not worth it. He slowly realizes over the next loops that he needs him. He can't imagine a future where Marc isn't part of his life. Like now he is still part of his life, somehow. He is more or less forced to spent time with him due to racing but now he knows that this isn't an obligation. He is actually starting to look forward to the few interactions they share at a race weekend.

And maybe that's the point were Marc enters the loop. He doesn't know he died but Vale does and it keeps replaying in his head and he is so obvious not doing okay. And Marc doesn't understand why. On Wednesday he had made a snarky comment and now he doesn't even gave him a weird look at the press conference? He even said hi? And it didn't sound like an obligation?

(I hope I'm not overstepping with my idea, it was just a thought. I hope you like it 😊)

TW Main Character Death (only temporarily) 

you are not overstepping i love this! how is Vale going to deal with having been the reason why Marc died or got seriously injured in one of the loops? even if Marc didn’t know about it Vale knows it happened and we know how Vale is about injuries in the sport (the gif of Marc showing his injuries to Vale and Vale making faces) yes the event was erased but Vale lived through it he experienced it and he had someone who he’s been pretending to himself for years he does not care about die/ seriously injured in front of him 

Marc not noticing something is off with Vale for a couple of loops cause he entered the loop a couple of loops after his injury/death and is busy having his own freak out moment (did consider having Marc remember but it adds too much angst) but after a while he starts noticing something is just not right with Vale he’s been watching him his whole life he knows something is off with him 

Vale’s gone from taking their brief conversations as pr obligations to slowing warming up to him Vale’s leaning towards him like he used to before, holding a door open for him, seating next to him at the safety meeting, going up to him to shake hands when they qualify 1-2 for the race, he's spraying champagne at him like he used to before the divorce.

Marc slowly starting to buzz out of his skin cause he is stuck repeating the same weekend and the only thing changing outside of his actions is Vale (not realizing Vale is in the loop) thawing to him. Marc deciding to go all in (sorry I had to) and just going up to Vale and full on starts making out with him in front of the media. Vale is shocked cause this has never happened before. Big clue that something has changed in his loop. 

Dark au of au (TW repeated death)  Went a bit dark under here

what if before Marc entered the loop Marc’s been dying in every single loop Vale’s had to live through? Vale’s been doing everything he can to stop it but Marc just keeps dying on him sometimes its caused by Vale’s actions and sometimes its something outside of Vale’s control but every loop up until Marc enters has been him dying. Vale trying to keep everything the same for a couple of loops because he thinks he’s finally found a way to keep Marc alive but slowly starting to notice Marc’s is changing his actions and staying as far away because yes something is going on but whatever is happening is keeping Marc alive. Another brief divorce happens in this au when Marc and Vale have found out each other is the loop they are having fun doing time loop shenanigans together. Vale is slowly healing from having witnessed Marc die countless times. But Marc rides dangerously on a race day and Vale flips out thinking Marc’s going to die again. Has not communicated what was going on before Marc came into the loop. Marc finds out Vale has been in the loop for longer than he has and has had to witness him dying repeatedly and did not say anything to Marc once he realized Marc was also in the loop. Vale has his first death in this au after they fight and it freaks out Marc because what if it was the last loop and he can't imagine a world without Vale. Marc having to emphasize because Vale has had to live countless loops witnessing Marc die. Does bring them back together. Kings of misscommunicating but now forced to come together because they are stuck together in the loop.  

[gayferrari]

lost days of June director’s commentary pls! fic that lives in my mind rent free

lost days of June. Carlos/Charles, alpha/alpha, hate sex

“I’ve never done this.” Carlos presses his lips to Charles’s throat and licks the skin there. He doesn’t bite him again, but he could. “Never met an alpha who was enough of a whore to beg for my knot.”

omggg Jo thank you!! that fic was so breezy to write. I was feeling high on the drama of Spain 24 (which. in hindsight. was the moment that made me a full-on charlos shipper ops) and I saw the kinkmeme prompt and it just came together in like 2 days.

Title from Evening by Joseph Brodsky. We are wholly alone in the evening gloom / And my fingers are warm like the lost days of June.

I was (and still am!) so stunned at the reception this fic got. Authors I admire commented on it and I started talking to so many people because of it, and I'll always be very fond of it because of that.

More thoughts under the cut!

Prompted after Barcelona 2024. Bitchin. After a bad race, charlos have a fight in private. Somehow, this ends with Carlos fucking the annoying out of Charles.

The prompt made me RUN because I think non-traditional omegaverse dynamics work so well for so many F1 ships with the push/pull of their vibes. charlos have that in spades. I'm very a/b/o orientation agnostic (I could buy any combination of alpha/omega/beta for most of my ships) but there's something about, "they are both alphas and they fuck about it" that immediately went to my brain. It's So reflective of all the things I like about their RPF dynamic

BITCHING (omegaverse au) — the moment when an alpha bites an alpha or alpha-like beta; usually causes instinctive submission/appeasement in the one who was bitten.

I've said this yesterday but F1 was my first time writing omegaverse at all and I still struggle with it because so many of the tropes don't come naturally to me — the amount of times I reread my own fics like "they are supposed to smell each other! write more smells!!" — and somehow, that made it easier to write all the dirty talk. Is a/b/o bitching real? Does getting bitten change you fundamentally? <- none of that matters they're just talking shit and getting turned on and having nasty sex

He looks at Joris again. They’ve barely exchanged five sentences since the season started; they all started with ‘Charles says’.

When considering AUs where charlos are fucking on the down low I'm always like. Do their respective entourages know? What do they make of it? Not that Carlos cares here. Hiiii Joris. Bye Joris.

Rereading this now, I'm not sure I got the post-Spain charlos vibes right, even filtered through omegaverse smut, but I definitely got the fandom vibes right. It's one of those fics where if anyone finds it 2 years from now they'll be able to tell exactly when it was written, down to the week on the race calendar, and I think that's kinda cool.

Also rereading this: I think I nailed the vibe I was going for! My idea was, like, that moment when you're in a push-and-pull kind of vibe with someone and it can be fun and sexy, but then suddenly the friction becomes nasty (teammate says mean things about you in the press) and all the things about that person that you used to find charming become absolutely fucking unbearable. That's what Carlos's POV is like in this fic. He's reached a saturation point and now they're fucking and sucking and calling each other names.

“Well?” Charles says, impatient. He’s looking at his nails. “Say what you have to and be on your way. I am sure you have things to do. It is your home race, after all.”

You can TELL I had so much fun with their shortly-lived bitchy beef <3 Week of all time. I cannot be blamed for making it into porn where Charles gets bitten and turns into a sexed-up horny mess

or maybe he's just roleplaying at it to have an excuse to go along with something they both want while pretending he doesn't. Same for Carlos's "tell me you're into this or I bite you and who knows what'll happen next?" <- probably nothing. They're both aware of it. But they're into pretending it does :3

In better times when they're not actually angry at each other they're gonna do SO much alpha/omega roleplay. This is so important to me. Charlos dynamic where they're both alphas and play around with omegaverse designation roleplay in a very inexperienced gross raw way is THEE a/b/o fuckbuddies evolution of their whole vibe

There's a lot of dialogue in this fic that makes me go "ok maybe this was a bit too much" but HEY, I am writing tropey porn, and it was so fun to write that I stand by it wholeheartedly. Seminal lines like

“A little bitch like you, have you ever been fucked?” Charles’s face is red. Like this, out of sorts and horny out of his mind, he can’t deny what he really wants. “Yes,” he spits out. “What, did you want to be my first?”

that make me go. WOW. Marie Kondo I LOVE MESS.gif.

Anyway. Carlos after will tell himself that Charles was lying. Charles is not lying. They will have jealous sex about that too.

The ending of the fic where they're like. Oh this hate sex was so gross. We should totally do it again <3 <- that's romance. To me.

THANK YOU for making me revisit this fic, it was so much fun! Happy halloween <333

[johnslittlespoon]

okay listen feral bikerider gale/past catching up to him/etc etc etc anon here and can I just say. thank you. I’m not overly interested in the actual violence or gang-shit or whatever. when I first read about the bikerider au all I could think about was sons of anarchy (idk if you’ve watched it, but I watched three seasons with my dad and it’s all just. gang conflict after gang conflict after gang conflict with some romance sprinkled on top and that’s not. really my thing) and I was not into it. at all. then your yapping (affectionate) converted me. hearing that it won’t be all weapon smuggling and, idk, drugs or smth is actually so reassuring lol

and!!! obviously it’s your fic/au, I’m definitely not here to try to influence you in any way whatsoever!!! I’m super excited to read it no matter what because your writing is just. lovely. I check in pretty much every morning like I’m reading the papers lmao

doing something semi-stupid in your past feels like kind of on brand for everyone, even though it might not be illegal for most. and maybe it wasn’t illegal for Gale, either, bro I am not a very good writer, I’ll leave the plotting to someone else.

but I’ll always love the idea of Gale being a little feral. or a lot feral. like John getting hurt in a bikerider au tickles my brain the same way John punching a German guard in canon centric fics does. Nevermind the guard, I just need the fallout. the angsty fallout.

John and Gale coming back home, and Gale sitting him down in the bathroom to very, very carefully patch him up (and, listen, the other guys probably just roughed him up a little. he probably got away with minor bruises and some scrapes), and Gale being insanely worried that he has scared John. John on the other hand is worried for Gale, because what if it happens again? What if the police finds out? John being worried that he somehow messed up.

and, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind reading feral gale beating the shit out of people. It’s just not something I want to read a full fic of.

finally, because I just need to add this, too: Gale’s knuckles being split and bleeding and John so very carefully cleaning them up, pressing gentle kisses to the cuts when he has to scrape the dried blood up to get it properly clean. Gale not being sure what he did to deserve John, being so sweet and gentle and caring.

okay, over and out 🫡 sorry for not being that clear in the other ask, I blame. idk, sleep deprivation. and sorry for making this so long, idk what I’m on about half the time and my meds are doing shit to my brain. I love your blog and your writing just. makes my fucking days. I’d wait forever for the next chapter of dog coded Bucky ❤️

YIPPIEE more leaving!bikeriders au >:) hii i meant to get back to this SO long ago, feels like good timing now with the bikeriders theatre day approaching! i'm assuming you're the anon from this post <3

i have THOUGHTS. aka this got lengthy oops, shocker. a bit of plotting and then like 2k words of drabble below the cut lmfaoo

the proper drabble will be further down, but first of all, very big agree!! and relieved i'm not the only one who feels this way omg. i haven't watched SOA for this reason specifically– i just don't have much interest in the conflict/violence–heavy plot stuff (which is ironic considering i'm excited for the bikeriders movie, but i think it's pretty clear that's because of the lovely cast lol since i don't care for bikes/cars in the slightest oops). HONOURED that my yapping converted you tho LOL i swear if something is character focussed, it can make 99% of topics at least somewhat appealing!

and please don't worry omg i don't feel influenced/pressured etc, i loveee bouncing ideas and brainrot back and forth for my aus, it's sm fun and i love trying to incorporate things other people like/suggest when i can!! <3 but omg i will weep thank you so much wtf?? :'))

for sure; even the most stoic/'put together' characters surely have done some not very bright things in their lives. i'm toying with a couple backstories for gale to establish what might catch up to him or cause conflict, but i'm gonna wait to decide until i see the movie because i have a feeling i'll get some good inspo from benny's story!

honestly it's the part i'll have to put the most effort into really thinking out in terms of plot to make it flow naturally, because all the relationship focussed things kinda write themselves as i brainrot. but i'm 99% sure i'm gonna write the fic from john's pov because it'll keep a lot of gale a mystery to the readers as well, and therefore save me from having to flesh out certain things until necessary lmfaoo

and yeah!! it's not always the events themselves that hit the hardest– it's the fact that the character could be feral enough for them to happen in the first place, and it's the outcome/fallout that's most fun to write/read (to me).

feral gale is so fun to explore in general because of how different it is to most of what we're shown of him in mota, so it's like a challenge to keep him feeling in character while also picking out the little parts of him that could be pushed to be that way. and of course the classic whump of the one person gale cares about and tries so hard to protect getting hurt because of him? endless angst possibilities.

i dig what you said, about john 'just' being roughed up a little, because i think with whatever backstory i end up forming, it's not like the 'bad guys' are gonna be some mastermind criminals extorting gale for something life or death lol. it's probably gonna be a bunch of rough and tumble biker men with some long lasting beef between their clubs, hitting gale where they know it'll hurt the worst: a loved one.

i bet you anything (depending on how plotting goes LOL) that they don't actually even intend to mess john up to the extent they do; i bet john runs his mouth and makes some sorta escape attempt because as terrified as he is, all he can think about is how gale's gonna obviously track him down and he's more worried about what the guys are planning to do to gale when he shows up. in his naive mind, if he can get out and get to a phone or something, he can stop everything.

ofc the escape attempt is futile because it's one gangly college kid vs a couple of grown ass men, and john gets banged up in the process, seeing as being tackled to the ground with your wrists bound behind your back doesn't leave you with anything to protect your face from concrete with, and maybe then he gets a solid fist to the face to scare him out of pulling anymore shit (it sure works).

and just the act of taking john/putting him danger alone would have gale ready to wring these men out by their necks, but when he shows up and sees his baby bleeding? and he can't tell how bad he's hurt, from where he's lurking around the corner scoping out the situation? he'd see red and be pretty dang close to saying fuck it and going in there without a plan, but the fear of john getting hurt in the process would stop him, and he doesn't feel like going down for murder.

somehow he picks off the guys one by one with a generous amount of flying fists and y'know, maybe a bit of knife–work if necessary, idk, future plotting lol, and tells them they're good as dead if they pull anything like this again. that the club will be keeping an eye out for them, that they're a buncha cowards, and they can come talk to him face to face like men, next time. you get it.

and then finally, obligatory wound care ofc <3 easily top three tropes ever ugh. gale gets john the fuck out of there and to the safety of his truck, methodical and vigilant, and only then does his guarded expression drop, and his hands are shaking just as hard as john's are when he cups john's face in his hands to look him over. john gives him a shell–shocked "'m fine, gale" and hates how guilty gale looks, because there's not even the tiniest part of john that blames gale for any of it; john knew what he was getting into (to an extent) with gale.

but regardless, gale's shaken up, terrified by how much worse things could've gone and how much danger john could've been in, but also terrified of how deeply he feels for john; probably some backstory there about gale seeing someone he loved get hurt, or almost get hurt, swearing he'd never bring someone into his life again because of it, etc, and then in waltzes stubborn, loud–mouthed john egan.

but selfishly (or what he feels is selfish), gale's also terrified that this might be the final nail in the coffin for john. he knows he's not the easiest to be with (even though john thinks the exact same thing about himself lol silly boys) and he knows john's more patient than he deserves, and could find someone his own age with a normal life in a heartbeat with his sweet disposition and charming pretty boy looks. and he knows john's well within his rights to walk away from their relationship now, to be scared of the future, to decide it's too much, and part of gale would be relieved to not have to worry, even if he'd miss john like he's lost half of himself.

it's real quiet when they're back home and john's sitting on the bathroom counter, gale between his legs, patching up his face so so gently, as if each brush of a cotton swab is an apology. both of them have lots to say but neither know how to say it; john hates knowing gale's probably shouldering all the blame and he doesn't know how to reassure him in a way that'll get through to him, but he can't handle the silence. probably makes a weak joke about how "y'shoulda seen the other guy" and doesn't even get a smile out of gale.

ends up wrapping his legs around gale's hips to pull him closer but just gets a huffed out, frustrated "john" as gale swats his ankles away, and it's not that john's trying to make light of what happened, he just doesn't know how to talk about something like that, regardless of how good he and gale have gotten at communicating.

john probably gets a bit frustrated, because gale’s already so protective over him as is, which he likes, but now gale’s treating him like glass, like he’s scared to hurt him further just by touching him, and john does not like that. it feels like progress undone, like he's back at the beginning of their relationship when gale wouldn't let him in or open up to him or trust that he was capable of making his own decisions.

so when gale's done bandaging him up with practiced, meticulous hands, john doesn't give gale time to react, just slides off the counter and snatches the little first aid kit from his hands and says "okay, your turn." and it's obvious gale wants to protest, but john catches him so off guard that he stunned into silence, lets john guide him until he's leaning against the counter.

john's hands still tremble when he takes gale's hands in his, and he tries to steady them because he doesn't want gale to see how freaked out he is, but he diligently cleans away the blood around his knuckles, feeling gale's eyes on him the whole time but not looking away from his task, scared he'll shatter the moment if he does.

if he were to look up though, he'd see gale's watching him in complete awe, struck by the fiercest wave of adoration, drawing a blank while he tries to search for what he could've possibly done in this life or another to have someone like john come (crashing, stumbling, tornado–ing) into his life.

and if we wanna make it extra yowch–y and sappy and feelings heavy: as john's brushing his lips over the cuts, dusting featherlight kisses across his knuckles, john's throat goes tight and he feels his own overwhelming rush of emotions and his heart thumps and he blurts out: "i love you."

it's the first time one of them says it. and it’s a disguised i love you even so. i love you despite. i love you anyway. i love you because. months worth of reassurances wrapped into three words, and even with what john's just gone through, he's still scared when it slips out, looks up at gale with wide, searching eyes, trying to gauge whether he's overstepped or said the wrong thing.

gale's just trying to catch his breath, feeling like the wind's been knocked out of him by the admission. half of him wants to shake his head, gently push john's hands away, tell him "no you don't, hun." a tiny part of him wants to be cruel about it, to laugh the honesty off and ensure john will walk out that door far, far away from the mess that gale is, and not turn back, safe from harm.

but the other half of him, the half that holds his heart, evidently, has him cupping john's open, sincere face in his hands, looking down into bright, fearful, hopeful blue eyes, and murmuring "i love you more."

and john blushes as hard as he did the first time they'd kissed, as hard as he did the first time he was laid out in gale's bed, as if he and gale haven't said a million things much more fluster–inducing since they met. gets all shy, pouts, looks down and mumbles "that's not fair," and that finally gets the first smile out of gale all day, maybe even a breath of a laugh.

they love each other your honour </333

this got way out of hand but what else is newwww i'm so weak for these two. so so weak. i keep saying it but MAN i'm so excited to write this fic this summer omg :')

and DON'T BE SORRY!! it's so chill omg, you were perfectly clear (but i'm glad you elaborated and gave me an excuse to yap about them some more hehehe) and never apologize for long messages, i loveee reading the brainrot and hearing ur thoughts and getting to brainrot back. and thank you AGAIN sobs 😭💗 that makes MY days and ur way too kind fml. i hope the wait hasn't been too long LOL on the chapters AND a response to this ask!! tysm again mwah

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

I talk about Virgil a lot so here are some random (some AU specific, some not, NOT ALL IN THE SAME AU) headcanons I have for Remus with mediocre elaboration:

— low empathy autistic. Has to be taught some empathy. I don't mean he's a danger, I just mean it doesn't initially occur to him that something might hurt someone emotionally. Also this usually comes with more of an explanation but I ✨don't remember the entire explanation✨

— he/they/it/various neos. I just think they'd vibe with it. I don't think he'd totally rock with she/her but y'all know headcanons are individual and I very much love seeing she/her and transfem Remus too <33

— tics. Sometimes they're worse than other times. Usually in a human au. Not with any specific disorder in mind when thought of

— this one is less mine and more my one friend's but Imma include it anyway: they wrote about him in one AU having a schizophrenia disorder. I don't remember the specifics but some of it was Remus seeing and hearing people/things that aren't there, which caused him and a lot of other people distress, and it furthered their "this is why people look at him odd but really he's not odd" agenda. He thought he was broken. Nope turns out his brain's just a bit different. Cue "ohhhhhh"

— y'know 80s/90s punk aesthetic? Yeah. Also thrifts like a bitch like they're out there all the time.

— walking calculator and can do a truly abhorrent level of math in his head. But cannot for the life of them do English. Like what the fuck is a semi colon. Ain't that the thing in your body?

— marine biologist or a mortician for his job I CANNOT decide.

— has horror movies as comfort movies <3 like "okay I'm sleeping now hmmm I'll put on the original Halloween" and then dozes off to it

— has facial hair other than the mustache. Removes the facial hair other than the mustache

— truly the most monstrous mullet you have ever seen except it's somehow hot. Like against all odds it's hot on it.

— writes down its worst intrusive thoughts in a notebook and when the notebook is full, burns it. That way it's an almost symbolic way of "FUCK these ideas"

— cusses just so goddamn much

— in some few AUs (I have to specify); smoker. Started as a teenage rebellion habit and now it's kicking their ass.

— tooth gap. I fucking love tooth gap.

— the grey streak isn't dye actually it's a birth mark. Roman has a similar one but he dyes it (neither brother is bothered by this)

— has fake blood splattered on several pairs of shoes just because it can and they think it looks cool

— reaaaaaally tries to pretend they don't care about Roman (highschool specific au) but also shows up for all of his theater shows and is always giving a standing ovation every time and has cried at a few performances (but definitely not no because they're too cool 😎.. *sobs*)

I feel like this is too many but ya get my vibes for him? :D I hope. I love them. They're so cool. It's just. AAAA

— 👑

Dude I fucking L O V E all of these S O fucking much oml!!! These really match Ree's vibes and them being a walking calculator is S O fucking underrated (Also “What the fuck is a semi colon ain't that the thing in your body?” is so R E A L XD) I really dig the notebook burning thing I think it would really help get it's thoughts out and he can find it therapeutic because F I R E <3 Also the highschool one has me cackling just

Remus: I could give less of a shit about Ro

Remus: *goes to all of his shows*

Remus: *sobbing and clapping* That's my fuckin' twin y'all!

True Punk behavior XD

[mickittotheman]

hello new friend! ✨️

saw that post about random questions for your stories, i am yet to read much of your works besides the most recent galladrabble!

so help me get started, what's your favourite fic you've written? maybe your favourite line even? what inspired it?

New friend❗️❗️❗️❗️ 💫✨️ Thank you so much for the ask, I've been waiting to get home from work ALL DAY so I can answer this lol.

So, I do have some (very old) works floating around from past fandoms, but so far the only gallavich fics I've posted have been my drabbles.

But! I have been working on a gallavich fic since like a few weeks before I even made this sideblog, and by "working on", I mean "like over 100k into it so far and not even close to done"

Posting full chapters before I'm done with the entire fic always makes me nervous because what if i have a new idea and need to go back and change something, but I'm always happy to share scenes in the meantime!

Basic premise is it's a vaguely canon-compliant-ish au except they never met growing up. Ian is in his EMT post- Caleb era, and Mickey is newly escaped from the Milkovich House of Horrors and working as a bartender. Inspiration wise, I got this idea for one specific line (from IGGY of all people. like don't get me wrong Iggy is cool and all, but I honestly never thought about him that much until my need to write a stupid pun overcame me) and it somehow snowballed into an Entire Plot.

Anyways, long ramble aside, I have included one of the earlier scenes below if you are interested but if not of course that's fine okay byyyyeeeee 🫣 🤐 😶

__________________

“Third drink of the night, Red,” Mickey says, sliding the newly filled glass of sprite back over to him. “Gonna hafta cut you off soon.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Red grumbles. Glares. Doesn't even try to hide the amused sparkle in his eyes.

He’s been acting weird today, though. Weirder than he usually is, and he’s already usually pretty fucking weird, so that's saying something. 

He keeps shooting Mickey these little looks. Scrunching his brows together. Fiddling with his glass.

Mickey braces himself when Red suddenly takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, dreading what the guy might say. Might ask.

“Why do you call me Red?”

Mickey blinks. Out of all the questions he’d been steeling himself for, that hadn't been one of them. He’s not expecting it. Not expecting the serious look on Red’s face as he asks it. “Uh. Your hair. It’s red,” Mickey says like an idiot, as if the guy isn’t fucking aware of that fact.

Red huffs and rolls his eyes. Squints at Mickey suspiciously. Fiddles with his drink again. “Kinda starting to feel like you just don’t know what my name is.”

“Yeah, I don’t,” Mickey snorts.

Red falters. Nearly tips his glass over. “Seriously?” he asks. Looks a bit put out, a bit annoyed, a bit hurt, and over all really fucking ridiculous. “You don’t remember my name?”

Mickey cocks his brows. “You never fucking told me it, man.”

“I did! I–” Red’s eyes dart around, and Mickey assumes he’s flitting through his memories, trying and failing to find the moment he introduced himself. His skin goes all flushed (and Mickey doesn't think its adorable, because it’s fucking not) and he buries his face in his hands dramatically. “Oh my god. I am such an idiot.”

Mickey bites at his lower lip to reign in the smile threatening to pop up. Raps a fist on the bartop. “You good? You’re looking kinda red there, Red.”

Red splays out his fingers and aims a glare at Mickey from behind them. “Ian. My name’s Ian.”

Ian. 

Mickey rolls it around in his head, on his tongue, getting used to the flavor of it. Ian. It’s good. Short and sweet, just like ‘Red’. Same amount of letters and everything. Flows better, though, the kind of name that sounds good when it's drawn out long and slow in a groan.

Holy fuck does Mickey need to get it together, this shit is getting fucking ridiculous. 

Red– Ian– has regrouped himself while Mickey’s brain was falling to shambles. His pouty glare is back to full strength as he crosses his fucking treetrunk arms across his wide chest and fucking focus, Milkovich. “You didn’t think to fucking ask me what it was? This whole time?”

Mickey shrugs. Rubs at his lip. “Figured if you wanted me to know you would’ve told me.”

Ian uncrosses his arms to flail his hands around. Nearly knocks over his drink again. Mickey sagely reaches over and pushes it out of the danger zone. “Of course I wanted you to know! You think I wanted you to refer to me in your head by the color of my hair every time you think about me?”

“Who the fuck says I spend anytime thinking about your sorry ass?” Mickey shoots out, immediately on the defensive, because yeah, maybe he does spend too much fucking time thinking of Ian, but he’s not just gonna fucking admit to that.

Ian perks up at that. Grins that fucking grin that Mickey knows by now means trouble. “Didn’t say they had to be thoughts about my ass, specifically, but–”

“Shut the fuck up, Red–”

“Ian.”

“Ian,” Mickey mocks. He doesn't think he’s entirely imagining the way something sparks in Ian at the sound of his name in Mickey’s mouth, but he could just be confusing it with the way something in his own body gets set ablaze. 

They both swallow. Mickey can see Ian’s adam's apple bob with it. He forces himself to tear his gaze away from Ian’s throat.

He thinks maybe Ian might be flirting with him sometimes. Maybe. But he’s not sure. Isn’t used to this. 

Before, he’d always scope out his options, settle on a guy who seemed safe enough. Wouldn't have to say a word. Would just catch their eye, cock his brow, and jerk his head towards an exit. If they followed, great. If not, whatever. No skin off Mickey’s back.

He’s never done whatever this shit is. If this shit even is anything. Which, again, it could be.

Probably isn’t. He’s probably just gone too long without getting his dick wet. Is probably just pining like some fucking school girl after the unattainable quarterback, seeing signs that aren’t there. Fucking pathetic.

It ain't right. Mickey’s not fucking pathetic. He’s just not.

+++

That’s what he tells himself, at least, when he’s leaning his back against his front door hours later. Breath still panting, hand still shoved down his now sticky boxers, tongue still tasting Ian’s name, not even having made it to his fucking bed in his rush to get in and get off.

+++