#the fine print magazine

[xyca]

[comfortless]

dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”

[hrrtshape]

insane, dream-like things that were normal in my better cr . . . in other words, what it was like being part of the 1%

i never carried cash : i didn’t need to. if i ever found myself in a situation where cash was required, idk, a farmer’s market or bribing someone, i’d just apple pay!?

i never waited for anything : reservations were booked months in advance. lines were always skipped. at clubs we just walked right in. theme parks? VIP passes only. i have never stood in a queue longer than 90 seconds in my life...or...in my better cr.

my closet was bigger than a new york apartment : and everything was colour-coded. yep. yep !!!

i never read price tags : not because i was being reckless, because i simply did not need to know. it was always fine.

if i wanted something, i got it : saw a dress in a magazine? had it by the next morning. craved a specific croissant from a bakery in paris? it was flown in. life had no delays.

luxury was so normal i had to actively remind myself it wasn’t : by the 13th day, i would have moments, small ones, where i’d be like, " wait, not everyone has their own perfume custom-blended by a french artisan? " and then i’d move on.

the ‘poor kid’ still had a trust fund. . . they just had less in it.

errands? what errands? dry cleaning, post office, buying toothpaste. these were not my problems.

skincare was medical : not just a ‘good moisturiser’ situation, i mean dermatologist-designed, prescription-only, lab-created serums. my facials involved lasers. my face was someone’s full-time job.

my mom had a florist on retainer : fresh-cut flowers appeared in my room like magic. i never asked for them. they just were.

celebrity run-ins were painfully normal : “oh yeah, we had dinner next to tilda swinton last night.” “who?” WHO?

we never parked our own cars : valet, always. i had a friend who didn’t even know how to use a parking metre.

there was no such thing as ‘saving up’. in those two weeks i never thought, “hmm, should i buy this now or wait till christmas when i get 50 euros from my grandma?” PFTTTTT.

everyone had a ‘family office’ : financial advisers, lawyers, accountants. my money was managed. someone in my school had three.

coffee orders were wildly specific : not ‘latte with oat milk’ specific. i mean custom-roasted beans, flown in from a single farm in costa rica, brewed at a precise temperature, delivered in a monogrammed cup.

doctors made house calls : i have not seen the inside of a waiting room. ever. feeling sick? someone arrived.

vacation homes weren’t a flex, they were a given : there’s the paris apartment (1st arrondissement, obviously), the villa in lake como, the chalet in gstaad. the only real estate question was, “are we summering in capri or st. barths?

your signature scent is impossible to buy : it’s either a discontinued hermès perfume from the ’70s that you miraculously still source, or a custom blend from a perfumer who only takes five clients a year.

flying commercial is a horror story, not an option : tsa? baggage claim? delays? these are foreign concepts. you had a netjets membership at the very least, but most likely, you have a family jet with an interior designed by someone who also did a yacht.

your tastebuds have standards : your daily coffee comes from a faema e61, your eggs are from a private farm, and your idea of a snack is burrata flown in from puglia that morning. did i mention my private school had michelin chefs?? yea.

you own art. like, real art : not prints. not posters. actual, museum-worthy pieces that are either inherited or sourced through galleries that don’t even have websites.

most people don’t know what anything costs : a gallon of milk? no idea. a metro ticket? couldn’t tell you. you swipe, tap, sign, and never check.

you don’t shop in stores like normal people : you go to private showrooms, have pieces sent to your home, or shop off-runway. waiting in line… horrendous.

i’ve had a ‘house account’ somewhere : a boutique, a jeweller, a tailor. places where you don’t pay on the spot, just ‘put it on the account’ and settle later.

i was taught how to eat properly : which fork for what course, how to use a butter knife, the correct way to hold a wine glass. it’s not something i learned. it’s something i absorbed from watching adults at endless dinners, benefits, and polo events.

i don’t remember learning how to ski or ride horses : because i was doing it before i was fully conscious. i have childhood photos in full equestrian gear, little skis strapped to my feet in gstaad or zermatt. it’s just something i always did.

an art education by osmosis : grew up hearing adults talk about rothko, basquiat, and duchamp in casual conversation. dragged to the louvre and the tate before i could even read. instinctively know the difference between an original and a print.

i have a family lawyer on retainer : and not because i ever committed a crime. they exist to handle things. NDAs, reputation management, keeping your name out of the papers. they know where the bodies are buried, metaphorically (or not).

most families’ wealth is so old and so layered in offshore accounts that even they don’t fully understand it : trust funds? sure, but also shell companies in the caymans, art holdings in geneva, real estate portfolios under LLCs. money isn’t in banks. it’s spread across continents.

most parents’ have had affairs with each other for decades, and it’s not even a scandal anymore : it’s just part of the ecosystem. marriages aren’t about love, they’re alliances. the wives turn a blind eye, the husbands keep it discreet, and the real betrayal is talking about it.

i’ve been name-dropped in a deposition : it was a divorce case. i was never involved, but my name was adjacent to power, so it got dragged in. the case was settled out of court, of course.

most families has multiple passports : not for fun, not for aesthetics. because sometimes you need an exit strategy. a villa in capri, a château in france, a penthouse in dubai. doors are always open, should you ever need to disappear.

i’ve seen actual generational feuds play out in real time : my parents have enemies. their parents had enemies. the grudges go back decades, and nobody even remembers what started it.

i grew up around people who have gotten away with actual crimes : white-collar, mostly. insider trading, fraud, tax evasion. but sometimes things darker. people go to rehab, people “retire early,” people take extended trips to monaco until things cool down.

i’ve seen billionaires (and their kids) break down over the pettiest things : a bad seat at a gala, a misplaced monogram on their jet, a slight from someone whose family has less money than theirs. the richer they are, the more fragile they get.

my family has a pr strategy : this is largely because my mom is a ceo of a billion dollar company. and everything is managed. what photos are released, what stories are planted, which journalists are “friendly.” nothing is random.

i know that philanthropy is often just money laundering with better optics : charities set up for tax reasons, “foundations” that quietly funnel wealth back into the family, billionaire donations that conveniently coincide with favourable legislation.

i’ve seen people lose their fortunes overnight : one wrong deal, one lawsuit, one scandal that sticks, and suddenly, the private jets are getting repossessed. the real old money…they watch from a distance. they never risk everything.

i know that some billionaires don’t actually have liquid cash : they’re over-leveraged, playing financial gymnastics with their own net worth. yachts, art, mansions. but the second they need actual money? suddenly, things get complicated. this is why everyone in my school donated possessions instead of actual money.

met people who don’t own their clothes : couture is loaned, jewellery is borrowed, yachts are rented to themselves through shell companies. it’s all about optics. they don’t need to own when they can access.

heard rich kids joke about things that would make normal people physically ill : laughing about tax evasion, casually mentioning private rehabs like summer camp, making bets on stocks that could ruin lives.

met billionaires who are bored of being rich : the thrill is gone. the yachts, the jets, the parties. it’s routine. they start chasing danger. high-stakes gambling, extreme sports, secret societies. anything to feel something.

[jemmacdraws]

twitter | instagram | tiktok | prints | steve

Eddie Munson for Heavy Metal! ♥️

Basically the logo from metal hammer but I wasn’t really about to make my own magazine this time - so this is fine! I absolutely struggled with this piece. I really did. But I do like how it turned out. Wanted to jump on the magazine cover train for a while now.

[agaypanic]

Could you do Carlisle Cullen x wife fem!reader where she accompanied Bella to the hospital and someone tries to flirt with her and he saw what happened and got jealous even though they have been married for centuries🤭. Add something you'd like. Tag me later! Thanks.

Not Interested (Carlisle Cullen X Vampire!Wife!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something

Summary: Hearing the news about Edward saving Bella from a rogue van, you rushed to the hospital. While trying to find your husband and family, you seem to attract some unwanted attention.

A/N: tweaked the first part of the request but that’s it. au where esme doesn’t exist

***

When you had gotten a call from Alice telling you that Edward had saved Chief Swan’s daughter and Rosalie had followed the ambulance they were in to the hospital, you knew you had to go over to play mediator. Rosalie was very clear about her stance on Edward’s infatuation with Bella and the danger that infatuation could put all of you in; it was becoming a constant topic of argument between the two. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to visit your husband.

The hospital parking lot was a bit crowded when you arrived, you felt lucky when you finally found a spot. It seemed that everyone was concerned about Bella’s well-being, even though you heard that she was very adamant about being okay.

You pushed through the small crowd to get inside and went to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hello, Mary!” You said with a polite smile. Being married to the best doctor in Forks, who worked long hours, had made you acquainted with almost everyone on the staff. “Do you know if Carlisle is busy right now?”

“He’s with a patient, but I’ll page him so he knows to come down when he’s done.” She responded with a sweet tone. You thanked her and sat in the small waiting room, grabbing a magazine off the table to flip through as you waited for your husband or one of your kids to come.

From the corner of your eye, you saw someone approaching you. Thinking it was one of your children or Carlisle, you glanced up. But it was just a stranger, so you stuck your nose back in the magazine.

“Hey.” The man said, sitting in the seat next to you. You subtly shifted away from him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new to town?”

You were a bit surprised that he didn’t know you or recognized you, at the very least. Even though you usually stayed at home, you were well-known around the hospital and the high school. Besides, your family was a bit of a hot topic, being so pale and mysterious and keeping to yourselves. And this was a small town where everyone knew everyone.

“Nope.” You responded, trying to be polite while also conveying that you weren’t interested in talking much. “I’ve lived here for a few years.”

“Then why haven’t I seen you around?” He leaned forward, a curious smirk on his face. You did your best to hide your grimace.

“I guess we’ve never been in the same place at the same time.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Maybe we should do something to fix that.” You wanted to roll your eyes at his forwardness. To him, you were a complete stranger sitting in a hospital. For all he knew, you could be waiting to see a family member on their deathbed, and he wants to flirt. “Do you wanna maybe go get a drink?”

“I’m fine.” You replied with indifference.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I bet I could show you a good time.”

You laughed, shutting the magazine and dropping it onto the table. You could sense someone coming down the hall, and you knew exactly who it was. And you knew he was making his steps a little heavier than usual to make his presence known. 

“Believe me, I’m not interested.” By the time you were standing and looking down on the stranger, Carlisle had reached the waiting room, his gaze fixated on the two of you. You turned your head and smiled brightly. “Darling! There you are!”

You strode over to your husband and kissed him on the cheek, the faintest lip print being left on his pale cheek. You could feel the jealousy radiating off of him, but the slight snarl on his lips turned into a loving smile.

“Hello, dear.” His arm was wound firmly around your waist, the tips of his fingers skimming your hip. The hold felt possessive, like he needed to make it clear to this mystery man and anyone who passed by you that they had no chance. It was amusing to you that even after a few centuries of marriage, Carlisle still felt jealous when someone tried to win you over, even when you were blatantly uninterested. 

Speaking of the stranger, Carlisle gave him a glaring glance, and he knew it was time for him to leave. When he was out the door, Carlisle softened. 

“What are you doing down here?”

“Alice told me about the van.” You said, pursing your lips. “I had a bit of a feeling that Rosalie would come here to have a word or two with Edward about the whole thing.”

“You, my little angel, are very smart.” Carlisle smiled down at you before nodding towards the other side of the room, where two of your children were quietly hissing arguments to each other. “And they are right on time.”

You laughed a little before letting Carlisle walk you over to Rosalie and Edward to hear the full story, even though you had already gotten most of it from Alice. The entire time, Carlisle’s arm stayed around you, a constant reminder to everyone that you belonged to each other for eternity.

[bbrissonn]

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ in which your agent forces you into a relationship for PR, but when you find yourself developping feelings for the boy, everything goes to shit

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting 

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ warnings: angst angst angst, no happy ending cause bitch does the song sound like a happy ending 😭, mention of sex but no nsfw content, swearing

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ pairing: luke hughes x reader

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ wc: 8.7k (including lyrics)

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ guts masterlist

Want it, so i got it, did it, so it’s done Another thing i ruined i used to do for fun Another piece of plastic i could just throw away Another conversation with nothing good to say

You were currently sitting in your manager’s, Chris, office alone, two other chairs next to you as you waited for him to return with his “special guests”. You truly had no idea what this was about, you never had meeting with guests, or whatever he meant. Your confusion only grew as you heard your manager’s laugh as he walked back into his office, another man in a suit next to him as he too laughed out loud, and a boy who looked about your age walking in behind them. 

“Y/N, this is my friend, Mike, and his client, Luke, he plays for the New Jersey Devils.” 

“Hi.” You answer looking briefly at the two before looking back in front of you. The last thing you wanted to do at the moment was have a social party with two strangers. 

“Excuse her behaviour, she’s been a little one edge lately. You two make yourselves comfortable.” Chris said as he walked to his desk chair, pulling out some papers from one of his drawers. Meanwhile, Luke took a seat next to you, sending you a small smile, which you didn’t bother to return, and Mike sat on the last chair. “Ah, don’t you just love a freshly printed contract!” Chris added, looking at his friend before the two shared a small laugh. 

“Contract?” You and Luke both ask at the same, looking at your respective managers. The two stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before Chris cleared his throat. 

“Mike and I have been talking for a bit, and we’ve both come to the conclusion that this is an excellent step for to the two of you to take to help your careers.”

“Career? I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.” You sassed as Luke shifted awkwardly in his seat. He knew who you are, how could he not. Your first big time movie had released only a couple of weeks ago, it was all he would see whenever he watched TV. But the movie had not been doing has good has your manager had hoped, no brands or magazine really reaching out to work with you. 

“Luke’s an uprising star in the NHL, Y/N, big prospect here, lots of attention on him. It wouldn’t hurt for you to get some of it.” 

“Well if he’s so beloved, what’s he need me for?” You asked, pretty much ignoring the two other men present in the room. At that, Mike stepped him, coughing slightly to bring the attention to him. 

“Luke’s been involved in some… worrying headlines lately. Being seen with you, seemingly in a committed relationship would do him some good.”

“Relationship?”

“Commited?” The two of you exclaimed once again. The last thing on your mind at the moment was being in a relationship, you had to focus on your career. 

“I’m not dating a stranger!” You said, drifting your gaze from Mike over to Chris, who was already looking at you with a pleading smile. 

“You two don’t need to actually date, as long as the media believes you do, what you do in your private time is none of our business.” He explained, his words almost sending you off of yout chair. 

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever head!” 

It took almost an hour for Chris to convince you to sign the contract, which somehow had crazier terms than the idea itself. Your “relationship” would last for 8 months, meaning during the length of Luke’s season. To make it even worse, no one outside of this room could know about the contract, meaning you would have to pretend to both your families and friends. Thankfully, the boy who would be your fake boyfriend was not as ugly as other men you’ve seen, sure he was far from your usual type, but he had some positive traits as well. His height being the first thing to catch your eye when he first walked in. Plus, he was an athlete, and it was hard to ignore his muscles showing throught his thigh polo shirt. He didn’t seem like an asshole either, so maybe there was a chance the two of you could somewhat get along. 

“So, what’s your favourite colour?” Luke asked as both of your managers left the small room for a couple of minutes, insisting the two of you got to know each other a bit. You looked over at him as his words hit, was this really the first thing he was going to ask you? You just rolled your eyes as you looked down at your lap. “Look, I’m just as happy as you are about this. And if I’m being honest, I’m not really interested in knowing more than needed about you.” He added, shifting slightly in his seat to have a better look at you. 

“Green.”

“Green?” He scoffed, making you send him a look, almost challenging him. 

“Yeah, green.” You sassed, making the boy smirk slightly.

“Like a- like a bright green or-”

“Are you mocking me right now?” You questioned, not finding the smile on his face amusing.

“No, no, just… interested, you know. There’s lots of greens out there.”

“Forest green.” You answered, keeping it short in simple before looking away and back down at your lap. 

“Not gonna ask mine?”

“Not interested.”

“Dark red, for sure. Although, you can never go wrong with maize and blue.” 

“Maize and blue?” You quipped. It was now Luke’s turn to give you a look. 

“Maize and blue. Michigan, baby!” He said with enthusiasm, earning himself a look once again. You took a second to look at him, really look at him. He  looked like a baby. 

“Michigan?”

“Michigan.” He repeated with a grin. 

“You from there?”

“Sorta.” He responded. You raised your brows at him, clearly indicated for him to expanded his answer. “Born in New Hampshire, moved to Toronto for like 10 years, then we moved to Detroit, been living there ever since.”

“And maize and blue, that’s…?” You trailed off.

“University of Michigan! Maize and blue, wolverines.”

“And I’m guess you went there.”

“Sure, did. My eldest brother too.”

“Cute.” You said, your voice filled with sarcasm. “When you’d graduate?” This was your way of finding out how old he was, without directly asking. 

“Didn’t.” Great, a college dropout. 

“You dropped out?”

“Yeah, to come here. If it makes you feel any better, I did attend all my classes, got good grades. I’m not some idiot.” He explained, you could tell he was feeling a little annoyed by your question. 

“Okay, well when would you of had graduated?”

“2025.” If you had a drink in your mouth, you would’ve spat it right out. This guy, this college dropout guy, was 2 years away from his graduation. You were right, he looked like a kid because he is one. 

“Gosh, how old are you?”

“Turned 20 last month. Why?” His words made you stand up, ready to storm out of the room and hunt down Chris. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not doing this. Gosh, you’re a kid. I can’t pretend to be in a relationship with a kid!” You exclaimed as you went to push the door open, only to realize it was locked. Great. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“Don’t asked a women her age!” You snapped as you still tried to push the door open. “24.” You whispered as you realized there was no way this door was going to open, at least not thanks to you. “25 in January.” 

“You’re like… the same age as my brother.” Luke whispered to himself, his face turning into a grimace at the thought. 

“See, even you find it weird! Let’s just tell them it makes us uncomfortable. You’re too young for me, and I’m too old for you.”

“Never said you were too old for me. What if I like older?” He smirked as he made himself more comfortable in his chair. There was no denying his attraction towards you. Your instagram had popped up tons of times on his explorer page, and he never shied away from liking your posts. 

“You just said I am your brother’s age. Do you not find that weird?”

“Well, if we’re getting technical, he’s born in 1999, and from what I understand, you’re born in 2000. So you’re not his age, you’re just like 3 months younger than him.” He explained, his smirk still plastered on his face as you dropped down on your chair with a sigh. This was going to be the longest 8 months of your life.

I thought it, so i said it, took it ‘cause i can Another day pretending im older than i am Another perfect moment that doesn’t feel like mine Another thing i forced to be a sign

“So, what do I do exactly?” Luke asked from besides you. The two of you were currently on your way to some award show, meaning you would have to walk a red carpet. A red carpet with Luke. 

It had been about three weeks since you had sign the contracts, you and Luke had spent some time trying to get to know each other. He tried to put in some effort, ask you question as simple as your favourite food, and some more complexe, like what made you move from North Carolina to New York. You barely put in any efforts to answer his questions, simply because you weren’t interested in him getting to know you, and vice-versa. The two of you had been spotted a couple of times by fans, but you never held hands, or displayed affection towards each other in public, not like you did in private, but no one really knew what to take away from the pictures. 

“Just, stand there and smile. There’s gonna be like a thousand cameras, so just keep your eyes moving, ignore their questions and yells. When the workers tell you to move, you move.” You explained, your eyes looking outside the window. The red thigh dress hugging your skin perfectly, your heels the same colour, you looked gorgeous. Luke was wearing a black suit with a red tie matching your dress. 

“You gonna pretend like you at least enjoy being within 5 feets of me.”

“Aha. You’re so funny, I’m dying of laughter.” You responded, you voice in the same monotone voice you always used with him. “You make a fool of yourself, or me, and I will rip your eyes out with my own hands.” 

“Kinky.” Luke smirked as the car came a stop. The boy looked over at you, your eyes were closed as you took a deep breath. You hated this things, you hated walking down that carpet, papparazies with cameras in your face like wild animals. You hated it. Your eyes snapped open, and a giant smile appeared on your face.

“Let’s go.” 

Luke stepped out of the car first, everyone around holding their breathes as they waited to see who else was going to come out of the car. The boy stretched his hand towards you, a small nod of his head as you slowly made your way out of the car. The cameras were flashing around you everywhere, and you could tell Luke was getting a little overwhelmed. 

“Ignore them, just walk with a smile on your face, nod a bit.” You whispered to him as you leaned in close. Then, the two of you made your way to the door, you fingers intertwining with Luke’s without you even noticing. As you crossed the door, Luke let out a small “woah”, his eyes rooming around the entrance. He had been to his fair share of events for the NHL, but none of them were like this. Everything look expensive, everyone looked expensive. He was completely starstruck. So much he didn’t even noticed a worker coming over to the two of you and giving you instructions. 

“Luke?” You asked, making the boy snap out of hi trance. “We gotta go, come on.” You whispered before guiding the boy to where the worker had gone. “You okay?” Your voice was so low the boy wasn’t even sure if it was real of his imagination playing a trick on him. 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“A lot.” 

“Yeah.” He answered as you looked over at him. The boy could’ve sworn he had seen the corner of your mouth lifts slightly, before your head snapped back to the worker. 

“Alright, you too, once she’s done, you two can go. Remember to smile, you both look perfect, enjoy the night!” She said with excitement as the girl in front of you moved to the next area of photographers. Luke heard you take another deep breath before slowly making your way onto the carpet. 

“Put your hand on my waist.” You whispered, a smile on your face, as you let go of his hands, that you hadn’t even realized you were still holding. Your hand landed near the top of his shoulder as you put one of your foot out and bent your leg. The slit of your dress riding up you thigh as flashed surrounded you. You felt Luke’s hand glide across your lower back before settling on your waist and pulling you a little closer to him. You instinctively leaned your head on his shoulder as you plastered your best smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“This is exhausting.” The boy sighed as the two of you finally sat down at your table. 

“Welcome to my world.” Thankfully, the two of you were able to avoid any interviews, and once you were done with the carpet, you were free for the rest of the night. 

“You nominated for anything?” Luke asked as he reached down to the menu on the table. You had warned him that he wouldn’t be able to pick was he ate, everyone was getting the same thing, besides of course people with allergies and such. Chicken. Not his favourite, but not the worse. 

“Me, no. The movie is, but I doubt we’re gonna win.” You answered, only two of your co-stars could attend, the other one being busy with a new project. Sadly, you were seated a couple of tables away from them. 

“Why not?”

“Because when you go up against movies like Avatar, it’s hard to win.” Luke didn’t asked any other question about the awards after that. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you should’ve won.” Luke whispered to you as the cast of Avatar made their way onto the stage. You looked over at him, the two of you hadn’t spoken since before the show started. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean Avatar’s good you know, classic. You’re movie was great.” 

“You watched it?”

“Before the whole… you know. My brother, Jack, we were looking for something to do and he made us go. You look hot in black.” He mentioned, clearly referreing to the long black silky dress you had worn in the movie. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Is it working?” He asked with a smirk, only making you roll your eyes. 

“No.” Silence. One minute, two minutes. “You didn’t mention you knew who I was.” This was probably the first time you had been the one who made the effort to keep a conversation going. Luke smiled as he shifted in his seat slightly. 

“To be fair, you don’t really like when I talk, and when I do, I doubt you listen.” He answered. You couldn’t tell if he was taking a jab at you or not. He probably was. 

“Just because I am not interested in what you have to say, doesn’t mean I don’t listen.” You said, almost like you were defending yourself. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sassed. “We’re at every different points in our lives, we have different interest, our brains don’t think the same way. I mean you’re pretty much a college frat boy, and I am about to be 25. You play hockey, which I know nothing about, and I act and model. Totally different.”

“I modeled for American Eagle once.” He stated, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. But as you looked over at him, the deep shade of red on his cheek answered your question. 

“You modeled for American Eagle.” You repeated softly, trying your best to hold in a laugh. 

“Just… laugh. You wouldn’t be the first one.” He mumbled with a small smile on his face. You let out a small giggle.

“That’s interesting. See, we could talk about that.” 

“It was… like two years ago. It was like with the school or whatever. My buddies were, like ruthless. It was horrible.” He explained, making you giggle even more. 

“They at least pay you well?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was good.” 

“Good on you.” The rest of the night, you and Luke surprisingly talked a lot. You hated to admit it, but you were warming up to him. He was sweet, there was no denying that, and you did feel bad for how you had acted before. 

“Y/N!” Chris exclaimed as you answered his phone call. You and Luke were now back in the car, on your way to your apartment. 

“Hi.” 

“How was your night?” You looked over at Luke, his eyes focused on his phone as he texted his brothers, who were apparently freaking out about his outing with you.

“Better than I expected.” You answered honestly. 

“Good, good. Have you been looking online? They love the two of you together, you’re all the media is talking about right now…” The man kept going but you paid no attention to his words. You eyes fixated on Luke. He had a soft smile on his face as he typed away on his phone, chuckling every now and then. You hated to admit it, but this night had gone far better than you had imagined. Luke was… well he was something. Maybe these next couple of months wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Well, sometimes i feel like i don’t wanna be where i am Gettin’ drunk at a club wuth fair-weather friends Push away all the people who know me the best But it’s me who’s been making the bed

“I mean, it’s been great! Just, so proud of her, and excited for her. She’s been working really hard for years, and I mean, yeah, just, she deserves this.” Luke answered the reporter, the lie slipping so easily from his mouth. You were now two months into this fake relationship, and your friendship with Luke had grown. You two actually spent time together now, enjoying the other’s company. You had been quite present in public with him, and fans were quickly growing for your relationship. 

The lies came out so easily about your relationship. How you had met, how long the two of you had been together, all of it. It almost worried you how good he was at it, of course for you, it was just acting, but this was totally new to him. Gosh, he was so good at it that sometimes it almost felt real. Like right now, his hand on your waist, holding you close to his side as he spoke with a large grin. 

“Think they like me more than you, now.” The boy joked as the two of you sat down. You were now at a movie premiere, your movie premiere. This project had been completed long before you ever met Luke, yet it was still so easy for him to lie about how proud he was, and how hard you worked. He didn’t know. He didn’t know how much effort and passion you put into this job because he wasn’t there, yet the lie sounded so natural. 

“Yeah might have to let you come alone next time.” You joked with a fake smile on your face, one that Luke knew too well by now. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You do it so easily.”

“What?”

“The lying. Just, I don’t kno- nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“No, no, hey, talk to me.” Luke whispered, his hand reaching for yours. His touch felt so natural, so right, that you had to remind yourself why he was doing it in the first place. You were surrounded by people. 

“I just, you’re a really nice guy, Luke, and this industry it can… can do stuff do stuff to you, bad stuff. Stuff that changes a person, and I’d hate for that to happen to you, and for me to be the reason.” You admitted, looking down at your lap. You almost felt pathetic. 

“I am not gonna lose myself. Trust me, I’ve got 2 older brothers and a bunch of guys that keep me very humble on a daily bases. They keep my grounded, my whole family does. Even with hockey. And I am tougher than I look, you know.” He joked at the end, elbowing you slightly. You smiled softly at him, nodding your head slightly. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He whispered back, his pinky connecting with yours. “My parents are always asking about you, you know. Jack and Quinn, too. Well, pretty much everyone in my life.” The boy added after a couple of seconds of silence. His words made your body stiffen. 

“Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, wanna meet them? That way you can see for yourself how humble I’m being kept.” The boy added. 

“Sure, yeah.” You answered, your voice shaky as you looked around the room. 

“We can just start with Jack, he’s the worse one though, but he’s the only on that lives here, so. But we do play Quinn in like 3 weeks, so my parents are gonna be in town…” 

“Jack first works.” 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 

“Can’t believe my brother actually convinced you to date him. I mean little Lukey, with you.” Jack said with a teasing smile on his face. By the ton in his voice, you understand he meant the “with you” part as a compliment, almost saying you were too good to be with his brother. 

“Jack-”

“I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. I taught you well, Lukey.” The older boy added with a proud smile. You looked over at Luke, who smile at you apologically. You had spent your evening at the brother’s apartment, Jack had tried his best to cook a meal for the two of you, but you ended ordering instead. 

“It’s getting late, I should get going.” You stated, peaking quickly at the time at your phone. 

“I’ll walk you to your car.” Luke said, standing up quickly from the couch and you were fast to follow his move.

“You can stay over if you want. Its getting pretty late.” Jack said nonchalantly, making you look over at Luke. The two of you had never spent the night over at the other’s place. Well, actually, Luke did sleep over most of the times after events, but he always slept in your spare room. You knew they didn’t have a spare room, and sleeping on the couch was too risky as it could be seen form the kitchen. 

You and Luke shared a quick conversation with your eyes, refusing to stay over would probably wave form red flag. 

“I’ll leave the two of you alone, don’t worry. Just, please remember that I do sleep in the room next to yours, Luke.” Jack said with a smirked as he stood up from the couch, joining the two of you. He ruffled Luke’s hair slightly, before giving you a smile. 

“Good night.” He said before turning around and making his way to his room. After his doors closed, silence took over the whole apartment with you and Luke standing in the middle of the living room. 

“So…” 

“You really don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll stay. He seems really happy about it, so.”

“Right, yeah. Uhm, I’ll get you some clothes.” Luke said before guiding the two of you over to his room. Ten minutes later, you were laying next to him on his bed, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of his. 

“He’s not as bad as you said, you know.” 

“That’s ‘cause he just met you. He’s an ass, really. Once you get to know, like really know him, he’s gonna be the most annoying person you’ve ever met.” Luke said with a scoff, making you smile slightly. Luke’s bed wasn’t exactly the biggest, meaning the two of you were laying shoulder to shoulder. 

You looked over at him, only to find him already looking at you. And then before you knew it, he was pulling you on top of him, your lips connected as his hands roamed your body. 

There was no denying the the two of you felt quite attracted to the other, and as you got to know him more and more, you attraction only grew and grew until you felt like you didn’t even have to pretend anymore. This was turning into something real for you, and you could only hope that the boy felt the same. 

The next morning, you woke up alone in the bed, wearing nothing but Luke’s hoodie. The first notification on your phone being from him. Hey, had to leave for practice, didn’t wanna wake you. Left a key on the counter, i’ll call you tn :).

Only he didn’t call, didn’t text either. And when he showed up at your place the day after, it was like nothing had happened. You wanted to talk about it, you needed to talk about it, but he had quickly made it very clear that he had no interest in that conversation. So, you stayed quiet and pretended it didn’t happen, that nothing happened. 

I’m so tired of bein’ the girl that i am Every good thing had turned into something i dread And i’m playin’ the victim so well in my head But it’s me who’s been making the bed

“It was so nice to meet you, sweetheart. You should come visit this summer.” Ellen gushed as she hugged you tightly. 

“I will.” You lied with a smile. Your 8 months would end right when summer would start, and you honestly had no clue what would happen after that. 

“Maybe we’ll see Luke a little more if you do.” Jim joked as he and Ellen waved at you as they left the apartment. Jack had offered to drive them to the airport, meaning it was only you and Luke in the apartment. His apartment. You hadn’t been over since that night, a night that almost felt like a secret. Like if you were to talk about it, or mention it, the world would explose. Like you were walking on breaking glass, and bringing it up would be that extra pressure that would make it snap for good. 

“You stayin’?” Luke asked as the two of you stood by door. 

“I don’t wanna be a bother.” 

“You won’t.” Luke said softly, his hand reaching for yours. “I want you to stay.” 

Those words, those 5 small innocent words, somehow lead to you once again waking up in nothing but his hoodie. You were alone once again, but you could head the two brothers arguing about something stupid in the living room. You quickly found your underwear and a pair of sweatpants before making you’re way to the two boys. 

“Y/N!” Jack exclaimed as he saw you slowly walking down the hallway. The older boy was sitting on the couch, while Luke stood behind him. But the younger boy quickly made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around. 

“Morning, baby.” The boy said softly, making your eyes grow wide. Baby. Luke had just called you baby. You never used nickname, never had and never even talked about it. 

“Hi.” You mumbled against his chest. 

“Y/N, tell your boyfriend that you always brush your teeth before you eat, not after!”

“Gosh, Jack, leave her alone.”

“Why would you brush your teeth before you eat? You’re just making them dirty again.” You answered Jack, making the boy’s smile drop, while Luke just let out a chuckle. 

“I made pancakes.” The boy mumbled, guiding towards the kitchen and away from Jack. 

“You trying to poisson me?”

“Not yet.” Luke chuckled as he placed a cup of coffee in front of you. The boy leaned against the counter as he watched you slowly started eating the pancakes in front of you. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” The boy mumbled as he walked past you, pressing a small kiss to your head before heading towards the bathroom. His reaction and action to your questions made his answer quite clear. 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“What’s up with you?” 

“Mm?”

“What’s up with you?” Luke repeated, making you look up from your phone. The two of you were currently sitting on your couch, a hockey game playing on your tv. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“That’s bullshit. You’ve been on your phone the whole night.”

“I’m busy, Luke.” You mumbled. It was a lie, you weren’t busy, you were just not interested in having a conversation with him after what had happened last week. Thankfully, he had left for a roadtrip with the team that same night, meaning you had one full week where you could just not think about him. The two of you texted a bit, but nothing more than seeing how the other was doing. The second the team’s plane had landed, the boy was quick to make his way over to your apartment, catching you completely off guard. 

“Yeah? Busy doing what? Scrolling on Tiktok?” The boy mumbled as he stood up from the couch. His action made you look up at him. “If you didn’t want me here, you should’ve just said so.” He added before walking away towards the front door. 

“You could’ve just texted, ask if you could come, not just show up at my door with no warnings!” You said as you followed him, making him scoff as he finished putting his two shoes on.

“That’s what this is about? I didn’t ask if I could come see you? We haven’t seen each other in a week, Y/N, sue me for thinking you’d want to hangout. For thinking you’d want to talk, catch up, see how I am doing-”

“Talk? You want to talk? Where was that attitude last week Luke?”

“What are you talking about?” The boy asked, making you scoff at him. He couldn’t be serious right now. 

“Why do you refuse to acknowledge the fact that we’ve had sex, twice now. Every time I even try to bring it up, you shut me out. So, I am sorry if I am not in the mood to talk to you when you please, Luke.” You snapped back, your voice filled with annoyance. Luke rolled his eyes at your words, making you bit your lip out of anger. 

“I can’t deal with this right now.” He said as he threw on his jacket. 

“See, you’re doing it again!”

“What is there to talk about, Y/N? We had sex, so what? Don’t be making a big deal out of this. Don’t act like this is something real, okay? We’re friends.” Luke said harshly, making your body freeze. The boy was gone before you even realized he was moving. Was this not real? Was all those nights spent doing nothing but talking about life nothing? Or how easily his lies would slip out of his mouth, were they really lies? 

Gosh, you felt like an idiot. Luke’s sole problem with this whole fake relationship thing was the commitment, he didn’t want that. He was a 20 year old just starting off his life, he didn’t want to be tied down right now. He didn’t have the time to be truly committed to someone right now, and you felt stupid for thinking he did. Stupid for thinking that those sweet comments he would make in front of camera were anything but sweet comment for the camera. Stupid for thinking some stupid contract would actually change Luke’s playboy attitude. I mean, that was the reason his manager wanted this relationship; clean up his image. That’s all you were, someone to clean up his image, to let other people know that Luke Hughes wasn’t just some guy going around fucking every girl he met. That’s all you were. 

You stood in front of you door for what felt like hour, praying and hoping that the boy would walk back in and tell you it was just a joke. That he didn’t mean those things and you meant more to him than he let on. That you weren’t just his friend, or his fake girlfriend. But he never came back. Never said the words you wanted to hear the most. Never. 

The next morning, you texted him asking if the two of you could talk. Nothing. No answer, no reaction, just silence. He had seen your message, and you couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of your message thread. Seen. 1 hour. 2 hours. 3 hours. The sun was starting to set and the word seen was still plastered on your screen. You felt even more stupid than you did the previous night. Laying awake in your bed, waiting for something, anything. Any sign of life that let you know that he was out there thinking about you. 

And a sign of life you were given. Of course, it wasn’t the one you wanted, if anything it was the opposite. You cursed yourself as the first tear fell down your cheek, and then even more as the tears kept falling. No way. There was no way this was real. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that to you, right? 

But he did. On your phone screen, staring back at your tear stained face, were photos of Luke in a bar, his hands all over a girl as his lips danced with hers. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course he did, the contract didn’t mean anything to him, it was just to keep his manager happy. 

You knew he knew this would get out. That people would see and it would reach you in only minutes, but he didn’t care. You were the last thing on his mind as he walked into that bar, his eyes roaming the room to find someone, anyone, who could help take his mind off of you and the stupid contract. People knew who he was now, he gained followers like crazy as the public became more and more in love with your relationship. And here he was, blatantly cheating on his fake girlfriend simply because he could and he wanted. 

There was no way Chris would make you keep your promise of 8 months. No way he would make you look like the stupid girl who went back to her cheating boyfriend. Right? No, no, Chris wouldn’t do that you. Although you weren’t so sure anymore, you thought Luke wouldn’t do something like this, and he did. 

And every night, i wake up from this one recurrin’ dream Where i’m drivin’ through the city and the brakes go out on me I can’t stop at the red light, i can’t swerve off the road I read somewhere it’s ‘cause my life feels so out of control

The next morning you woke up with your phone blowing up, which made you quite confused since you had made sure to put it on do not disturb last night, meaning the only one who could be reaching you right now was Chris. You had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. You hated this. You hated that you let your guard down with the boy, hated that you let him, gave him the power, put him in a position to hurt you. You hated what you actually felt for him. You wouldn’t call it love, but your heart was his and only his. It was stupid, I mean you had only known him for barely 3 months. 

“What the hell happened?” Chris asked as soon as you answered his call. You tried your hardest not to let the tears fall again. Sitting up in your bed as you looked over at your clock, 10 a.m. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You whispered, your voice breaking slightly. 

“I’m outside your door.” The man said before hanging out the call. You slowly made your way out of bed, walking to your door and letting the older man in. Chris tried his best to hold in a gasp as his eyes met you. Your hair was a mess, but that’s not what caught his attention, you face did. It was red, really red, so were your eyes. Left over mascare from the previous day lingering around your eyes. 

“Y/N/N…” He said softly as he followed you to the couch, where you threw your body down before wrapping yourself in a blanket. “Are you okay?”

“Please… please tell me the contract’s done.” You begged, your eyes tearing up as you watched Chris looked down at the floor. 

“He won’t… he won’t let us. I asked, I mean this looks bad for him, but Mark he’s… he’s not letting up.” Chris explained, his voice low and soft as tears started falling out of your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“We argued. We did… we hooked up, twice. And it meant more to me than it did to him. He got mad, stormed out, and I haven’t heard for him in almost two days, so.” You explained, trying your best to keep your voice stable. Chris let out a deep sigh at your words, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll talk to Mark, again. See if we can find a middle ground.”

There was no middle ground. You had signed the contract. Luke had sign the contract. And although Mark was not happy with his client, you had signed the papers. Which led to you sitting in Chris’ office, Mark next to you and Luke on the other side, later that day. The last time the four of you had been in the same room, you never would’ve guess what the next couple of months were going to be like for you. Never in a million years did you think you would grow to actually enjoy the younger boy’s presence, and you certainly never believed you would actually have feelings for him. 

“All right, so, papers were sign-”

“Can’t we just sign other papers to say we agree to end it or whatever.” You quickly cut Mark off, making the three men look over at. 

“Y/N…”

“No. I am not gonna be painted as the dumb girl who goes back to a cheater! This was supposed to be good for my image!” You said looking at Chris. He knew you were right, so did Mark and Luke. This was supposed to be a good thing. 

“Y/N-”

“No! I am turning 25 in a week, Chris, I am too old for this stupid high school drama. I don’t care about the stupid contract! I am done with this.” You said sternly before standing out and leaving the room. Of course, Luke was quick to follow you. 

“Y/N!”

“Fuck off, Luke.” You called out, not even bothering to turn back around. Of course, just to your luck, the elevator took forever to come up, giving Luke the chance to catch up to you. 

“Please, just hear me out.” The boy begged as he stood besides you. His words made you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. Thankfully, the doors opened and you were quick to enter and press the button to close to door. Unfortunately, Luke was quick to place in hand in the way, joining you inside. 

“Hear you out? What is there to hear out, Luke? You’ve made yourself very clear, so, please, just leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” The boy said before pushing the emergency button, making the elevator stop. 

“What are you doing?”

“Let me talk.” 

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Luke. I get it, okay? You’re young, and you wanna enjoy your life. You don’t want to be tied down, I get it. I can’t give you what you want, and you sure as hell can’t give me what I want, so just back off.” You whispered before pushing the button. Thankfully, you weren’t far away from the first floor, meaning about 3 seconds later Luke was standing in the elevator all alone. His eyes fixated on you as he watched you made your way out of the building. 

He was such an idiot. 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Every year was the same. You’d go to sleep the night before your birthday, expecting to feel completely different the next morning. But then you’d wake up and feel the exact same. 

25 was no different. If anything, you felt even more pathetic this year. You were 25 crying over a 20 year old who only thinks with his dick. Everyone always looked like they had their lives figured out by that age, relationships with someone they were convinced they were going to marry, or kids on the way, a stable work income, dreams they wanted to fufill. You had none of those. Well, since your fake relationship with Luke, producers were a lot more interested in what you could bring to their movie. But that attraction only came once you were by a man’s side. 

This 20 year old little boy had brought more success to your career than you ever did before. Pathetic. Even more pathetic that the same 20 year old could not give two shits about you. Pitiful. Yeah, that works better. 

You had no plans for the day, ever since the whole “cheating” drama went down, you had stayed inside. You didn’t go on social media, there hadn’t been a single sign of life from you, and honestly you didn’t have the energy to give you. You couldn’t be bothered to give you because you were too busy mourning the lost of a relationship that didn’t even exist. 

You spent your morning on the couch watching some stupid reality dramas, trying to make yourself feel better. Hoping that maybe there were some bigger idiots out there. And as you watched the same girl cry over the same guy for cheating on her for about the tenth time, you realized maybe you weren’t so pathetic. You had made it clear to everyone you wanted to be alone today, you didn’t have the energy to socialize right now. The only people you were planing on seeing were your food deliveries guys. 

So, when the sound of your doorbell echoed through your apartment, your brows furred. It couldn’t be food, no you were currently eating it. You were left even more confused as you opened the door to see no one. Looking down, your eyes met with a large basket filled with flowers, treats, stuffed animals and much more. A larged card with your name written on it with a handwriting that you could recognized all too well. You could see him out of the corner of your eyes. Granted all you could see was the top of his head as he had stopped halfway down the staircase as he heard your door open. But he was there. You weren’t sure what you should do. Do you look at him? Keep pretending you don’t? Do you even take his gift? 

Your head was telling you to go back in, take the gift, throw the card away and just fill yourself with sweets. But your heart had the better of you. You missed him. You hated that you missed him, but you did. Luke almost let out a yelp as your eyes met his. He didn’t know you could see him. The two of you stared at each other before you softly nodded towards your door. 

The next thing you knew, the two of you were sitting on your couch, Luke’s gift basket on your coffee table as you stared at the wall. Luke’s gaze was fixed on you, you knew it was. You could feel it. 

“I miss you.” He whispered so lowly you could barely hear it, but you did. You didn’t know if you should believe him or not. You let out a small scoff at his words. You weren’t falling for it. “I’m being serious, Y/N.”

“You don’t miss me, Luke. You miss the attention I gave you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Because the second that attention was gone, you went to someone else to give it to you.”

“I want to be with you, Y/N, and I am so fucking sorry for what I did. And I know sorry is never going to make it to you, but please-”

“You want to be with me? You want to really be with me?”

“Yes! The only reason I never mentioned the fact that we had sex was because I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way I did about it.”

“But I did! And when I finally told you, you pretty much told me to go fuck myself and that it meant nothing to you! And now you really wanna sit here and tell me it meant more to you than a quick fuck? Please, Luke, I wasn’t born yesterday.” You snapped, looking over at him. “You embarrassed me. You made me feel stupid for thinking you would ever want something more than a quick fuck. And that wasn’t enought, that you had to go and hookup with some random chick in a public place, knowing people would find out, that I would find out about it. Now I look like the idiot who got cheated on by some kid.” 

“Look, I messed up, I know I did. I freaked out and ran away, when I should’ve just been honest with you. But, please, let me even try to make it up to you. I want to be your boyfriend, Y/N, I really do.” 

“I turned 25 today, and when you turn 25 it makes you realize that you have no clue what’s going on in your life. I mean I’ve got about 15 to 20 years until I can’t have babies anymore. I want to get married and have kids soon, Luke. And you’re no where near wanting that in your life. Maybe you are being honest, maybe you do really want to be with me. But I mean what I said in the elevator, you can’t give me what I want. I don’t want to wait another 5-6 years for you to be ready to settle down. I need someone who’s ready right now.” You explained. Luke knew you were right, his older brother had gone throught the same realization last summer. 

“We’re at different points in our lives.” Luke mumbled the same words you had told him during your first real outing in public together. Gosh, you wish you could go back and do so many different things that night. You wished you hadn’t let your guard down, maybe this whole thing would’ve never happened and you’d be out celebrating your birthday with your friends and fake boyfriend. Maybe. 

“Yeah… and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I could ever forgive you. You made me look like a fool to everyone, Luke. And maybe I was just being stupid with my feelings or whatever but I atleast thought we were friends, and you’d never humiliate me publicly like that.” You said harshly, making the boy look down at his lap. “I deserve better.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t be better.”

“You should leave.”

And i tell someone i love them just as a distraction They tell me that they love me like i’m so tourist attraction They’re changin’ my machinery and i just let it happen I got the things i wanted it’s just not what i imagined I’m so tired of bein’ the girl that i am Every good thing has turned into something i dread And i’m playin’ the victim so well in my head But it’s me who’s been making the bed

The next day, you were freed. The whole contract thing was done. Chris had told you the reason it hadn’t been before was because Luke didn’t want it to be done. But that something in him had changed last night and he had agreed to end it. It felt odd really, you never guessed you could miss something that never really existed so much, but you did. You cut all public ties with Luke and his world, making it quite obvious to the public that your relationship was over. 

You went back to your old life, pretending none of it had happened. Pretending that Luke Hughes hadn’t walked into your life three months ago and flipped your wold upside down. You didn’t talk about it, you refused to talk about it because you weren’t sure you’d be able to answer any questions without crying. You felt even more pathetic about that. You and Luke had never officially been together, neither of you ever flat out say you liked the other. So why were you so hung up on him? Maybe it was the way he always knew how to boost your confidence before a red carpet. Or maybe how attention he paid to details. You didn’t know, and you didn’t like it one bit. 

What made it even harder was that Luke was went back to how his life was before. A different girl in his bed almost every night, and now since he was linked to you, even more attention was brought to it. It was hard, seeing the boy you were so hungup on kissing all these girls. But all the negative attention that came with it almost made you feel better. This whole situation was supposed to do some good for both your images. 

Now a month later after your “break up”, you were the girl who go cheated on, but was thriving in the industry, while Luke was a cheating whore. It made you feel good. Good to see that people on the internet stil hadn’t lost their minds and sense of logic completely. Good that maybe you did come out of this stronger and more liked than before. Good that you were about to start working on the biggest project of your career so far, and Luke would be stuck being reminded of his actions every time he opened his phone. 

But you still felt pathetic. You weren’t sure you’d ever stop feeling pathetic. Pathetic for lying to all your friends and family, lying to his family. Pathetic for not answering any of Jack, or Quinn or even his parent’s messages. But you couldn’t. What were you supposed to say? Oh, I am actually not that sad because we never really dated, it was just a contract. I mean, that would be a lie, but part of it would also be the truth. It was just a contract. You both messed up, and you needed to stop acting like this was all Luke’s fault. 

You shouldn’t have slept with him, you shouldn’t of had let him ignore the fact that you slept together for so long. You did this to yourself in a way. You knew going in about Luke’s behaviour, you knew the second the contract was over, he’d go back to his old ways. You knew. But you still let yourself fall for it. You could even say you were to blame for it. You kissed him first. You kissed him. Both times, you iniciated it. So, who was really to blame here? 

Somethings i feel like i don’t wanna be where i am Countin’ all of the beautiful things i regret But it’s me who’s been making the bedMe who’s been making the bedPull the sheets over my headMaking a bed, oh-oh

[lunaartgallery]

BG3 | Fine Print

Don't ask me the logistics of a medieval play*** magazine. ✧ Follow me for weekly comics or Support my Patreon for more content! ✧

[asiantransformations]

Prologue - A Deal with the Devil

Mr. Chen sat at his grand mahogany desk, the faint glow of his jade desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his angular features. In one hand, he swirled a glass of aged whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light as he leaned back in his chair. Before him lay a file marked Confidential—a dossier on JunHao, the man who had once been an untouchable icon of success, strength, and masculinity.

“JunHao,” Mr. Chen murmured, savoring the name like a delicacy. “You had it all, didn’t you? A thriving business, a loving girl, and a body that could make even gods envious.”

He glanced at the photo pinned to the top of the file. There JunHao stood, shirtless on a magazine cover, his sculpted physique the picture of perfection. The biceps that could stretch the seams of any suit, the chiseled abs, the confident smile—it all reeked of success, of invincibility. But Mr. Chen saw something else. Ambition. Greed. A man who had soared so high he never bothered to look down.

And that was where Mr. Chen came in.

He had orchestrated the entire downfall with surgical precision. Junhao’s business, a chain of high-end fitness centers, had been booming. But like many businessmen who thought themselves untouchable, JunHao had been careless with his partnerships. He hadn’t noticed when a shell company, quietly owned by Mr. Chen, began acquiring shares in his supply chain. He hadn’t realized when critical shipments of equipment were delayed or canceled, choking his operations.

Then came the financial strain, and with it, the loans.

“Desperate men make desperate decisions,” Mr. Chen muttered to himself, taking a sip of whiskey. He remembered the day JunHao had walked into his office, his broad shoulders weighed down by stress, his usual aura of confidence cracked.

“I need a loan,” JunHao had said, his deep voice betraying a hint of desperation.

Mr. Chen had leaned back in his chair, feigning concern. “A loan, you say? From me? The terms would have to be… unconventional.”

JunHao had hesitated, but he was a man with his back against the wall. He had signed the contract without reading the fine print. It was a devil’s bargain, one that Mr. Chen had designed with a very specific clause: in the event of the business fails, all of JunHao’s assets—all of them—would transfer to Mr. Chen.

It wasn’t just the gyms. Not just the properties or the accounts. It was everything JunHao had. Without him realizing, it included his body and the ownership to it.

————————————————————————

The collapse had been swift. Within months, Junhao’s business was in shambles. The loans he had taken to save it became an anchor, dragging him further into the abyss. And when the inevitable happened—when Junhao defaulted—Mr. Chen made his move.

He had summoned Junhao to his private estate, the contract in hand. Junhao, now a shadow of his former self, stood in the opulent office, his powerful frame visibly worn by stress. "Guess your business failed and everything of yours is now mine!"

“You can’t do this,” Junhao had growled, his fists clenched.

“Oh, but I can,” Mr. Chen had replied, his tone calm and cold. “You signed the contract. You agreed to the terms.”

“I’ll fight this in court!”

Mr. Chen had chuckled darkly. “You won’t get the chance. The clause is binding, immediate, and irrevocable. I don’t just own your business, Junhao. I own you.”

Before Junhao could react, Mr. Chen had signaled to his guards. They restrained the struggling man as Mr. Chen retrieved a small vial from his desk—a blend of ancient Chinese alchemy and cutting-edge bioengineering.

“This,” Mr. Chen said, holding the vial up to the light, “is your key to freedom—or, rather, mine.”

Junhao’s eyes had widened as the liquid was injected into his neck. He had thrashed against the guards’ grip, but it was no use. The process was instantaneous. A searing pain had coursed through his veins as his consciousness was pulled away from his body, drawn into a swirling void.

When Junhao woke, he found himself in a frail, elderly body, his once-pristine physique now a distant memory. Across the room, Mr. Chen stood in front of a mirror, marveling at his new form.

“This… is perfection,” Mr. Chen had said, flexing his biceps and running his hands over his chiseled abs. He turned to face Junhao, a smirk playing on his lips. “You should be proud, Junhao. Your body will be put to far better use in my hands.”

Junhao had screamed, lunging at Mr. Chen, but his new, weakened body betrayed him. The guards dragged him away as Mr. Chen laughed, his deep, commanding voice echoing through the halls.

“You should have read the fine print, Junhao,” Mr. Chen had called after him. “You’ve given me everything. And I do mean everything.”

Mr. Chen stepped out of the private chambers in only his underwear, feeling the weight of JunHao's powerful form. His every movement felt fluid, controlled, and effortless. It was a far cry from the frail, aging shell he had once inhabited. As he walked down the hallway, he marveled at the strength that now surged through his limbs, the sensation of each muscle flexing with the slightest movement.

He flexed his biceps—massive, round, and hard as stone—and let out a deep, satisfied breath. It was like a drug, this power. His former body, though fit, had never compared to the raw might he now commanded. These arms—these biceps—could easily crush anyone who dared to oppose him. The veins that snaked across his skin pulsed with vitality, evidence of his newfound strength. Every push, every pull, every lift was easier now, as if the world itself bent to his will.

He grinned, eyes tracing the contours of his new physique in the mirror as he walked past. The chest—wide, firm, and densely packed with muscle—caught his attention. His pecs were like slabs of stone, firm and unyielding, pressing against the tight shirt he had chosen to wear. When he flexed, the movement was hypnotic, a showcase of sheer power. The depth of his ribcage felt more pronounced, the muscles more pronounced, each fiber finely sculpted to perfection. He could feel the strength of his lungs, the way they expanded and contracted with ease, fueling his movements.

His mind raced with the possibilities. In this body, he was capable of feats that would’ve been impossible in his former, weaker form. There was no limit to what he could do, no obstacle he couldn’t crush beneath his new strength. He felt like a god, a man whose very presence commanded the room. Every glance from a passerby, every flicker of acknowledgment from those around him—he could see the admiration, the envy, the lust in their eyes.

But it wasn’t just the physicality that set this body apart. It was the knowledge embedded in every fiber, every cell of this machine.

Now, Mr. Chen stood in front of the mirror in JunHao's—his— gym, his reflection a living testament to his triumph. He flexed his biceps, marveling at their sheer size and power, and smirked as he ran his fingers down the ridges of his abs. His servants were in awe of what he attained.

“This body,” he said to himself, his voice rich and resonant, “isn’t just a vessel. It’s a weapon. A masterpiece.”

Mr. Chen lifted the weight, a staggering amount, effortlessly. As the barbell rose and fell in perfect rhythm, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. Every inch of JunHao’s body was designed for optimal performance. His shoulders were broad and thick, built for lifting, carrying, and crushing. His legs were powerful pillars of strength, veins and tendons twisting beneath the skin as they absorbed the pressure with ease. His calves were muscular and solid, able to sprint for miles without tiring, propelling him forward with each step.

He was a walking weapon—a machine capable of destruction.

The gift of virility was perhaps the most intoxicating. Mr. Chen had always been a man who desired control over everything, and now, he had control over the most primal part of his new form. He could feel the sheer force of Junhao’s masculinity coursing through him, the power in his loins that seemed to radiate outward, a constant hum of energy that never faded. His once-feeble self had known nothing of this.

This was a different kind of strength.

It wasn’t just about physical satisfaction. It was about dominance—asserting control over the very essence of another person. The body’s virility wasn’t a mere function of attraction; it was a weapon, a means of asserting his superiority, of owning and controlling.

The mind that came with this body was just as powerful as its physical form. Junhao’s intelligence had been sharp—business savvy, ruthless in his own right. But now, those instincts and ideas had become Mr. Chen’s. He could feel it—the knowledge embedded deep within the muscle, the experience that came from years of competition, of pushing himself to the limits. Every decision Junhao had made, every business deal, every negotiation—it was all there, like an archive waiting to be unlocked.

Mr. Chen felt as though he were walking in the footsteps of a man who had already laid the path for success. Every strategy, every move he needed to make, was now at his fingertips. JunHao’s thoughts, his methodical and strategic way of thinking, now surged through Mr. Chen’s mind as though they had always been his own.

He could feel the instinctual knowledge of how to read people, how to control a room, how to exploit weaknesses. His ability to manipulate, to strategize, to make others bow to his will—it was second nature now.

Every touch felt electric, as if JunHao's body was awakening to its new owner, recalibrating itself to fit Mr. Chen like a finely tailored suit. Every nerve ending seemed to buzz, hyperaware of his movements, responding to his commands with an eagerness that was both exhilarating and addictive.

Running his hands over his chest, Mr. Chen marveled at the power beneath his fingertips. The solid ridges of muscle, the soft yet firm hairs brushing against his palms-it was all so alive. His previous body had been stiff, sluggish, and unresponsive, a constant reminder of his age. But this? This was perfection incarnate, and it responded to him like a finely tuned instrument.

He progressed to his bedroom and then on the full-length mirror that dominated the corner of his suite, captivated by the sight before him. Mr. Chen wanted to explore this new opportunity in private. As he flexed, his reflection seemed to shimmer with vitality, every muscle rippling beneath his skin in perfect harmony. The sheer control he had over this body was intoxicating.

But then, something unexpected happened.

A faint warmth began to build, spreading through him like a slow burn. It started in his chest, radiating downward with an intensity that took his breath away. By the time he noticed the faint wet spot forming on his underwear, it was too late to deny it-this body wasn't just alive; it was thriving, responding to his every whim with an energy that left him breathless.

"This... this is something else," he murmured, a grin spreading across his face as he pressed his palm against the damp patch, feeling the heat beneath. "You've really outdone yourself, JunHao."

Rather than being embarrassed, Mr. Chen reveled in the sensation. He let the feeling wash over him, leaning into the raw vitality that coursed through his veins. He flexed again, harder this time, watching in awe as his biceps bulged, veins snaking across his forearms like rivers of power. Mr. Chen moaned every so loudly as he groped his new cock. The wet patch grew slightly, and he couldn't help but laugh -a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the room.

"This is what it means to feel alive," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "This is what I've been missing."

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting his hands roam freely, exploring every inch of his new form. The hard planes of his chest, the taut curve of his thighs, the firmness of his calves-each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through him. It was as if the body itself was rejoicing, celebrating its new owner with a symphony of sensations.

After a few minutes of indulgence, Mr. Chen was covered in JunHao's precious juices which reeked of testosterone, a testament to the new virility. A taste of it sent shockwaves of energy and flavors to his tongue as he forced himself to stand, steadying his breathing as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He wasn't going to let this body overwhelm him-not yet, anyway. There was so much to explore, so much to discover, and he wanted to savor every moment.

He changed into fresh clothes, opting for a tight-fitting shirt that showcased his physique and a pair of jeans that accentuated his powerful legs. As he left the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror one last time and couldn't help but to pose what he had.

"Let's see what else this body can do," he said to himself, stepping out into the night, ready to test the limits of his newfound strength and charm.

Next Part

[wordsnstuff]

Standing Water: Wordsnstuff Writing Challenge [in collaboration with RUNT magazine]

Welcome to RUNT Magazine. We are an indie print publication celebrating visual art, literature, and the distinctions that make us human. Our aim as a magazine is to cultivate a vibrant community that promotes exploration and creativity instead of stifling it.

We’ve put together these prompts to hopefully inspire you to submit to our upcoming issue with the theme of STANDING WATER [click link for more info!]. If you feel inclined to express yourself in a different media, we accept all forms of writing (fiction, non-fiction, essays, poetry, etc.), photography, art, or anything that moves you! There is no submission fee and we encourage you to submit as much as you like.

The deadline is December 31st, 2024 and we can’t wait to see what you come up with! Submit for free here!

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Write from the perspective of a favored toy of your childhood.

If future you met present you, what would you talk about? What would you think of each other?

Your hometown has mysteriously disappeared. As you stand looking where it once stood, what memories come to mind?

You’re aging (spoiler alert). Write dual perspectives about one character who embraces that fact and one that rejects it.

You wake up in your childhood bedroom, magically a child yourself. You get to experience a Christmas as a kid again. Describe what you’ve missed about this as an adult, even down to the smells.

It’s been MANY years since you’ve stopped aging. You’ve watched friends and family pass on, never letting yourself fall in love or get attached. You spot someone that you remember from your childhood, also unchanged. Who is it? Do you say anything to them?

You’ve just discovered you were switched at birth. What do you imagine the life you could’ve had was like?

Tell a true story about your childhood. The first one that comes to mind. Maybe even the one you don’t think is even worth writing about at all.

You’ve spent decades running from the small town that labeled you a weird kid, but when you find an old yearbook and see your old self staring back at you, you realize you’ve made a nightmare of the only person who understands you. Make amends with the younger version of yourself, you were just a child.

Every morning, you sit at the same desk, doing the same work, feeling your potential slowly wither away, but you convince yourself it’s fine. What would happen if you stopped telling yourself that this is all there is?

Write the day in the life of an inanimate object that feels it is not being used to its full potential.

Write your first break up from the other person’s perspective.

Your spouse is a writer and has been incredibly secretive about their current book. It’s been published and as they’ve finally allowed you to read it, you’re slowly realizing this all sounds far too familiar.

You awake with your eyes closed, but you don’t remember falling asleep. “It wasn’t your fault,” you hear a voice say. What do you see when you open your eyes?

A once famous person reflects on their career as they slowly being to feel they are being forgotten by the public.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

Check us out on Instagram.ᐟ

Submission Link

⟢ no fee ⟢ no limit on submissions ⟢ any type of writing or art medium

RUNT Website

[kafkasapartment]

Veruschka Von Lehndorff, Interview Magazine, London, 1989. Michel Haddi. Fine art digital inkjet print

[spidybaby]

Delicate | Part One

Summary: A bad reputation, one contract, a very stubborn singer and a calm footballer was the perfect mix for disaster.

Warnings: cursing.

Face claim: Madison Beer (She's just the face claim. We are using songs from other artists too)

What are you supposed to do when the whole world is watching every single one of your movements?

What are you supposed to do when you feel like a deer in headlights?

What to do when your reputation is the worst?

That's the type of questions you make yourself everyday after what happened.

You blame yourself. "Maybe if I wasn't that stupid to trust people I shouldn't have, I would be fine."

But here you are. Trapped in a room with the people who tell you every single day that they told you, that you needed to be careful. And you are not happy but you took the I told you.

Do you deserve it? yes.

You thoughts were interrupted by the door being opened. You noticed the man that enters the room. A little tired, a little older than thirty five.

"I'm sorry about the time. Traffic was crazy." he says, hugging your manager. "Barcelona is crazy this time of the year."

"There's worst days." you manager says, laughing. "Y/n, come here."

You look at her, walking over to them. "Hi!"

"This is Hector, he's a friend of mine." she introduced you to the man. "He's the manager of two football players from Barcelona."

"That's so cool" you smile. "Nice to meet you, Mister Hector."

"Just Hector, love." he smiles. "I love your new song, so good."

You smile, thanking him.

"Where's your boy?" you manager asks. "I want to see him, so good he's better now."

"He's downstairs, some fans recognize him and asked him for pictures."

You look over at your manager, wondering what was going on. You try not to care and wait for this guy. You stay quiet while Hector and Aleek, your manager, talk very happy.

The door was open by a dark haired boy, he looks about your age. He was wearing some cargo jeans and a hoodie. "I'm sorry, more and more people were asking for pictures."

"Don't worry, love." Aleek says, hugging him. "You are so handsome, it's been a while since I've seen you."

"The last time was during my last game at Las Palmas." he smiles. "Nice to see you."

"Come here, love." she grab him by the arm. "Let me introduce you to Pedri." she says to you. "He's the number eight of the first team at the fc barcelona."

"Hola!" Pedri smiles.

You shake his hand, smiling at him. You still don't understand what are you doing there so early in the morning and what was the need for Pedri and Hector to be there.

"I know you are questioning what are we doing here." Hector says, standing up. "We are here to talk about a small," he pauses for a while. "Let's say a small feature."

You turn to see your manager, you are more confused than before, not understanding what they meant. How can you do a feature with him when you do music and he is a football player.

"In these past months we have register both of your activities on social media, press notes, work activities. Pedri, we know that you had a bit of a hard time with injures and with all of the rumors about girls." Aleek says.

You frown, why does that even matter?

"And you, Y/n." Hector says. "You had the success of a lifetime, you last singles were on the top of billboard, and you are even competing with Taylor Swift on the charts." he says, happy. "The thing is, you are known for partying, for being a not serious person to work with."

"That's no-" you try to say.

"Let me finish." he says, you nod. "You have a reputation that's not giving you the best times. Your campaign with Dior was over because of the rumors about you doing substance during Kylie Jenner party."

"What's the point?" you say. "Aleek, what is going on? I've never done any of those things, just freaking rumors." you try to defend yourself.

"I know that." she says, lifting her hands. "But they don't."

She threw a few magazines and some printed news titles. You grab them, you know you don't have the best reputation on US. Feeling weird that they are showing you this.

"Anywho, Hector and I have an amazing idea that involves the two of you." She smiles.

Pedri frowns, understanding before they even explain.

"We did a contract, a PR one." Hector says to Pedri. "The contract is that you two will pretend to have a relationship to change the rumours around. This will help how the two of you are perceived."

You shake your head no, "I'm not doing this." you laugh, standing up. "What gave you the right? We are people, what if Pedri has a girlfriend? what if I have someone? Where is our own will of choosing?"

"Pedri doesn't have a girlfriend," Hector says. "Pedri has groupies who mess up his reputation."

Pedri frowns again. "I don't have groupies."

"We," Aleek says louder. "are your managers." she smiles. "And WE will do whatever is necessary for the two of you to get back to a good reputation path."

You shake your head. "I won't sign." you say.

"I won't either." Pedri seconds you.

Hector laughs, "We don't need your signature." he explains, showing us a copy of the contract. "We have legal power over decisions regarding your brands."

"You can't do this." you say, feeling trapped. "Aleek, why?"

"Because, Pedri and you need this." she explains. "You don't want this rumors to make your album to flop. Do you?"

You shake your head, standing up. "I can't." you threw the papers on the table, walking outside of the room.

You run stairs down, feeling tired of the way people see you as a product. You don't want to feel like a normal person, being able to walk and not have a phone on your face.

You know that the rumors of you partying were creating problems. Even when you don't do any kind of drugs or anything bad. People like to pretend you are a junkie who pass the days drunk.

You slam the door of your apartment, throwing yourself on the couch. You cry the feelings out. Your phone is ringing, you ignore it, you know it was Aleek.

You try to calm yourself down. You hate to feel like a product of the industry. You hate to feel like an addict when you don't even live that life. You hate that when you asked your friends to defend you, they ignored you.

You grab your phone from your bag, answering without even looking. "Qué cojones quieres, Aleek?" you say, stern tone.

You were about to say more, until you hear the voice of Pedri.

"Soy Pedri." he says. "I just want to know if you are okay."

"I don't care who you are." you say, even more angry. "I don't need you worrying about me, Pedri." you say his name in this spiteful tone.

You were too angry to care who was it. You don't even think about the fact that Pedri was in the same problem that you are.

He doesn't answer, he knows you are mad and that you won't have the best answer to anybody calling you.

You then feel guilt, Pedri doesn't have to take the blame of what your manager and his did. "Pedri, I'm so sorry!" you cry. "I didn't meant to treat you like that. I'm not like this, I promise." you say, rambling a little.

You cry after saying this, sobbing and feeling even worse that Pedri took time to call you to check on you.

"Bonita, please don't cry." he says, softly.

"I don't want to do this." you say, crying on the phone. "I don't want to stain you with my reputation."

"You won't!" he reassures you. "I don't want to either, but I'm not letting you feel alone in this."

You smile at that, feeling a little bit better than you are less alone in this shit show.

"They actually already have something that we need to do." he scoff. "I feel like a fucking voodoo doll."

You chuckle at that. "That's a good term." you say to him. "I will check to see what's going on, thank you for reaching to me" you say softly, more calmed.

"Venga, don't stress." he jokes. "It's best for us to just do what they ask us. I know it's horrible to have to pretend and lie to everybody, however, I do believe that we can take something good out of this."

"Okay, I'll trust your words." you laugh, making him laugh. "I'm reading the text they sent us, I guess I'll see you."

You say your goodbyes to him. Promising to not keep crying.

You feel anxiety.

You know you have to be back to the studio to record a few songs. You don't want to, not cause of the way you left last time.

Aleek tried to contact you, she texted, she email you, even sent you a message over pinterest.

But you weren't giving up. You were mad and you wanted to show that to her. Even when you know you have to talk to her because you need to approve the album cover.

"Hello." You say, walking into the recording room.

Aleek looks at you, smiling at you. She knows you were mad but at the same time she knows this is something that you needs.

"Hola, bebé." She says.

You walk over to her, hugging her from behind. You needed this more than ever. "I don't like you right now, but I love you."

"I know you are mad, but trust me on this, okay?"

You nod, separating and walking over to the table where all the options are. You two start working on picking an album cover.

"I think this one is prettier." You say.

You hear three knocks on the door. Jake, you publicist walk in, an iPad in hand. He shows Aleek something, which she smiles to.

You don't paint mind to it. Knowing that whatever she's into, you would have to say yes in the end.

"Do you have like football, Cinderella?" Jake asks you.

You roll your eyes, knowing by your best friends boyfriend insta stories that tomorrow is going to be the clasico of la liga.

"Can I say no?"

"No." Jake laughs, making you pout.

yourusername

Liked by pedri, fcbarcelona and 2,383,385

yourusername first time coming to a game and we got a victory ✌🏻✨️ can I call myself a lucky charm?

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fcbarcelona 🍀🏆😎

pedri 💪🏻🏆

barcelonafan PEDRI?

frenkietupatron wait... he's following her and have been liking her post for over a month... Pedri????

"Do you even know how much I hate you right now?" You ask Aleek over the phone. "I was thinking about getting take out and rawdog my show last season."

"Now you can go out and see the sunset." She says, happy tone.

"I was looking at information about Pedri, and Hector did not lie about him having groupies who got him a reputation."

"Really?" She asks, curious. "When I met him he was such a shy boy."

"Well, not anymore." You laugh. "His last rumor was an influencer whose boyfriend apparently found them in bed." You tell her.

"Well, that's what this is for." She says, explaining again the purpose of the contract. "For you to drop the reputation you have, look at yours. Missing junkie."

"Ughh." You buff, mad. "I will require you to order me take out later just for that comment."

"will do." she says, chuckling. "Text me when you are home and to tell me how it was."

"Yes, boss." You laugh, hanging up the call.

You finish with your touch up of makeup. You added mascara, some brow gel and your beloved blush.

You move from your bathroom to your room, packing everything that you were taking, a blanket to sit on, your sunglasses, some sunscreen.

You feel the vibration of your phone in the back of your shorts. You See Pedri's text, he was waiting for you in the parkin lot.

You texted back that you were going down, to give you a minute. You press the basement button, texting Aleek a picture of you in the elevator.

When the doors open you noticed Pedri's car parked in front of the elevator. You smile at him and wave.

He was about to get down and open your door but you knockn on the wintond. "Just open." You chuckle.

He does that, unlocking the door. "I was going to open it for you." he says.

"Not necessary."

"Joder, que bien huele tu perfume." (your perfume smells amazing) he says, turning to you.

You blush a little at the comment, you love when people tell you that you smelled good.

"Gracias." You smile at him. "It's Armani." You say, making a face that makes him laugh.

"It's good." he smiles. "You can leave the bag on the backseat." he says, pointing towards the back of his car.

You nod, turning to place your bag. You notice a black box with his name and some barca design. You can see some letters, some pictures, notes with hearts.

"Someone got a gift." You tell him.

"Sip, these girls who follows me since the begging of my barca career came to Barcelona for the clasico and I saw them today when I left the camp nou."

You pout, you love how cute his fans were. "That's so cute."

You love getting things from your fans, it was a little piece of them that you get to keep with yourself.

"I have a Playlist on." he says, referee to the music that playing. "Here's my phone for you to change it."

"I like bad bunny, it's fine." You smile.

The rest of the trip was calmed, you two were silent, just listening to the music. You feel weird, you don't really know what to ask him.

When you got to the beach you notice that he was wearing a pair of sneakers.

"Pedri, you can't wear that on the sand, you'll ruin them."

He sees his sneakers, nodding his head. "I was going to go to my house and get my sandals." he explains. "But if I got home, I was going to be late for picking you."

You nod, understanding his motives. "Let's do this." You smile at him., I'll take my shoes off and we both can be barefoot."

He nods, smiling at your suggestion. You two take your shoes off, leaving them in the car. You walk together to the beach. You ask him for help with the beach towel.

"So I brought fruit, I brought some juice in a box because Hector told Aleek you don't drink and I also got sunscreen cause I can tell you are not wearing any." You say, pointing at everything you got.

You pass him his juice box and the tupper with some fruit. "I love watermelon." He smiles, eating the fruit. "Gracias."

You two stay quiet for a while, the two of you just enjoying the food and juice. You want to ask him something but you are not sure what.

"How was your day?" You ask.

"E'tuvo bueno, I'm a little bit tired because of the game and todays training, but I'm good." He explains. "Yours?"

"Oh, it was good." You smile. "I recorded some snips for my next album."

"I like your music."

"En serio?" You raise an eyebrow

"Qué va!" He laughs. "Do you think I'm a liar?"

"Not at all." You lift both your hands. "What's your favorite song of mine?"

"Underground, I like that song so much." You nod, smiling at him. "But I don't think you beat Quevedo."

"No way!" You say happily. "I love Quevedo."

"Favorite song?'

"La playa del inglés."

"No, que va, you are kidding." He smiles. "That's my favorite song too."

"That crazyyyy." You say. "Okay, what's your favorite movie?"

"Buaf, I think creed."

"No, you are lying." You say, looking away.

Pedri took a little bit to catch up on your answer. "Dios, Y/n." He smiles. "No way."

"I love creed." You say.

You two laugh at how crazy the things were. Because you did not believe that it was possible for you two to have that much in common.

"Do you have siblings?" You ask, eating some of the fruit.

"Sip." He smiles at the thought of his brother. "His name is Fernando, he's a chef and lives with me." You smile at that, you can tell he's very family oriented. "You?"

"I have one brother." You say. "His name is Austin. He lives in Tennessee."

"A little bit far." He chuckles. "Do you live alone or with your parents?"

"I live alone." You smile. "I have an apartment, but I think of getting a house."

"A house is better." He confess. "When I moved on here, I was in an apartment with my brother, and we felt so weird. Apartment complex are small and a little bit expensive for what you get."

You nod, agreeing with what he's saying. "Your brother is a chef, so you don't cook?" You ask.

"Not really." He chuckles. "My mom knows how to and my dad too. They own a restaurant, Tasca Fernando."

You smile at that, feeling happy at that confession. "Here in Barcelona?"

"In Tegueste, Tenerife."

"Right, you are Canarian." You say, remembering what you read. "You played in Palmas?"

"Sip, Las Palmas. They were my first big team and now I'm in Barcelona."

"I want to say that I love your style of playing, but I don't know anything about football." You chuckle.

"I can teach you." He smiles. "I'm kinda good at it." He jokes, making you laugh.

You two keep talking about more of your likes, getting to know yourselves. You find it very interesting how someone so quiet and so reserved has such a reputation.

"And the next home match is this Friday." He tells you, after a large explanation of how La Liga works.

"Are your parents coming?" You ask him.

He then changed his demeanor. He got a lot more silent. "No, they are not coming."

"Oh no, why?"

"Well." He thinks if telling you is the right thing. "Hector won't allow me to because we are supposed to be our and be seen and having my family will distract me."

You frown, not sure how to react but surely mad that his manager dared to tell him such a thing.

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

"It's not your fault." He whispers. "It's fucked up, but I know it will be worth it."

You stayed quiet, enjoying the sound of the people around, the music that you can hear, the laughs, the screams of kids playing, the small talk that's not understandable.

You then got the idea.

"I can help you see your family." You smile at him.

He lifts his head quickly, turning to you. "What? How?"

"Okay, what if I ask my manager that we can use your family for our pr?"

He thinks for a few seconds, confused about how that would be beneficial for the two of you.

"Hector says that you have a reputation on having a lot of girls, but have you ever introduced one of those girls to your family?"

"No!"

"That's what we can say." You smile. "If you introduce me to your parents and we are seen together in the public at a game, then that means that we are serious, it's more believable."

You smile at your idea. Feeling like a smart girl.

You can't catch the look on his face, but in his mind, he's thanking you a thousand times while lifting you in the air.

"I'll tell my manager tomorrow, I have to go to the studio." You smile at him.

"Would you really?" He asks, eyes shinning with hope.

"Si!" You smile. "I'll promise I will make everything I can to get them to be at these home game."

Pedri hugs you, thanking you for making an extra effort for him to be fine.

"Now, what if we go get an ice cream?" You suggest.

He nods happy. He would give you anything you want right now. "It's on me." He says, helping you get up.

"I'll agree just because I forgot my wallet." You laugh, making him laugh.

holacom

Liked by 12,482 others

holacom Spain Golden Boy Pedri González was caught on a romantic beach getaway with our Favorite Pop Girl Y/n.

The two of them are rumored to be having more than just romance. Fans of the two of them on social media X are pointing how she was at the home game and wearing the emblematic number 8 from Pedri.

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pedrilover35 isn't she like a junkie?

y/nxharry no 😡 that's just rumors

ferminmipatron I think she is because she's friends with the jenners and they are junkies too

y/nfan23 love this new couple ❤️ I need to get his jersey

sugarmelon I ordered his and someone named gavi 😎

messicomeback10 get a messi one

sugarmelon @messicomeback10 who tf is messi?

"Can you lower the volume on that note?" You ask your technician. "Yes, right there."

You sing the note one more time. Trying to make it perfect for layering it into the melody of the background.

"Okay, that's amazing." He says.

"Let's do the same with the chorus."

You spend the next hours doing that with other several songs. Trying to make them sound better and more effortlessly likable.

You thank Bruno, the technician. You worked with him before and you know that he knows your moods and your vibe.

"Lunch is on me tomorrow." You smile at him. "Drive safe." You hug him goodbye, walking with him to the elevator.

You press the button of the floor where Aleek's office is. You need to talk to her about bringing Pedri's parents.

You knock three times. "Come in." You hear her. You open the door and walk inside, finding her reading some papers. "Hello, baby."

"Hola." You smile.

"Are you done?"

"Yes, we got amazing beats." You smile. "Hey, I want to talk to you about something." You sigh.

She stays quiet, signal for you to keep talking an to tell her what's on your mind. You take a deep breath.

"Pedri told me that Hector told him that he can't see his family or bring them to Barcelona because that would be a distraction for our plan." You say to her.

She frowns, not aware of that. "I didn't knew that."

"I know, I just want to know if you can help me convince him to let him bring his family."

"Oh baby, but I don't thin-"

"I have a plan." You interrupt her.

She nods, making a hand signal for you to keep talking.

"So, I was doing my research on Pedri, I found out that he never once introduced his flings to his parents." You began. "And fans always say that on x, with every girl he's rumored."

You open your phone, sending her the screenshots of people tweeting that they don't believe that Pedri is with anyone because not one of his family members follow the girls.

"And if we can get people to see us together with his family, then get bag the football girls. That means that the media would stop seeing us as a fling or a fuck thing situation."

"Okay, you got my attention."

"And if we can be seen with his parents and brother, then after, we can start to post more about each other. Things here and there, discreet."

"Something private but not secret." She says.

"Exactly." You smile. "And what better than this Friday's game."

"That's in three days." She turns to see her calendar.

"Please, I know this can work." You beg. "We are doing this, all I'm asking is for you to help me get Pedri to see his family."

She narrows her eyes. "Fine, I'll help you convince Hector." She says, making you smile. "I'll show him all of these that you have."

You feel happy. You would help feel like this is less a forced situation but more like a small trade.

"Now go home, you need to rest for your interview with Vogue." She says.

"Yes, ma'am." You smile. "Bye."

You hug her goodbye and walk outside of the building. You drive home, listening to some pop for a change.

You get home and cook something easy for dinner. Watching some of your show whole eating.

You feel your phone vibrate. You picked it and see Pedri's name displayed. "Hola, camarón sin cola." You say, happily.

"Eres una jodida genio," He says. You can tell he's happy by the tone. "Hector called me and told me that he booked my parents' tickets for them to come a day before the game."

You feel happy that your plan worked. "Oh my God!" You say, jumping happy. "It worked, that's such a good news."

"Gracias, Y/n." He says softly. "I really needed this."

You pout happy. "Don't thank me." You say. "Go tell your brother or calm your parents to tell them. We can talk later."

"Vale, but I promise I'm making it up for you." He laughs. "Adiós."

You say goodbye to him. Watching your shoe for a little while. You can't help but to have a smile on your face.

You then remember that you need to post something from fenty beauty. Opening insta to post your picture with the product.

You let it there, you were focused on your show and on finishing your third plate of food. You then feel your phone get notifications.

>Aleek: kiddo, Pedri will comment on your post. Please answer.

Aleek: Let's stick with emojis for now. <

You check insta, opening the comment section. Pedri's comment was there, freshly made. You reply with two emojis. Letting people go crazy about it.

yourusername

Liked by pedri, fentybeauty and 3,273,482 others

yourusername Nothing feels better than glowing like a star with my Fenty Killawatt Glow ✨️🌙 Don't forget to get yours at @sephora_spain #FentyPartner ❤️

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fentybeauty you are glowing ✨️

pedri 🤩✨️

yourusername ✨️🌙

pedrixferran hard launching I see 👀😦

frenkietupatron @pedri don't engage with her because the Kardashian curse might get us 😣😣😣

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl

[shaisuki]

THINK TWICE BEFORE YOU FLIRT WITH MY GIRL

ft. itadori yuuji, megumi fushiguro, nanami kento, gojo satoru

content warnings ─── flirting, being catcalled, creeps.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ think twice before you flirt with a sweet looking thing. you will never know what kind of disaster is coming for you.

ITADORI YUUJI

this was the least of your worries. you wouldn't expect a stranger would hit on you on the busiest streets of tokyo while your boyfriend is retrieving his wallet in the theatre seats.

this man can't take no for an answer and your patience is thinning out. “yuujiiii, where are you?” you called out to him in your mind. god forbid you'll slap the shit out of this man.

you kept your distance away from the man. what innocent asking for directions turned to be a flirtations of sort and you don't like it. not a bit.

“why so mean to me, darling?” you cringed at the tone of his voice and the nickname he gave you. you politely smiled at him.

“please leave me alone, sir.”

the man only chuckles, his hand attempting to grab you but he was stopped when a furious itadori appeared. his grip on the man tightened who was hitting on you.

“touch her and i'll break your arm.” itadori warns, his brown eyes glimmers with rage and the man squirmed, his expression changing from cocky to frightened.

“okay, man. okay.” his voice shaky while he pulls his arm held by itadori and when itadori let go. he runs immediately with his tail between his legs.

itadori's murderous aura shifted to a worried one. his hand holding your arms, your neck and to your face. checking for any injuries that the man had inflicted to you but you only held his hands.

“yuuji, no harm done and thank you for saving me.” a little-teary eyed from the earlier scuffle.

itadori pouts.

“i'm sorry for leaving you.”

“itadori, it's not your fault, okay?” wrapping your arms in his neck and itadori pulled you closer to him. his muscular body pressed against your soft.

“bu-” your lips connects to his before he can finish his sentence and itadori taken aback, a blush blooms in his cheeks before returning the kiss to you. his hand gripping in the plushness of your waist and the other gripping the flesh of your thigh. it's almost scandalous, kissing in the public but itadori ignores it.

“i'm fine, stop worrying yuuji. say, yuuji. ramen?”

itadori laughs. linking his hands to yours and held it tightly. pulling you close to him while you talked about what kind of ramen you two will be tasting for today's date.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

the bookstore is one of the places you and megumi would frequently hang out, more like a casual date. liking the peace and the ambiance the bookstore brought. the smell of freshly printed magazines and the vintage books littering in the shelves.

megumi glanced sideways. his emerald eyes darting to the clothing you were wearing. discreetly checking you out and megumi smiles. liking how you were getting confident with the more tight-fitted clothing. his eyes softening when he sees you gleaming with excitement at the newly-stacked books.

“megumi, i'll be checking out the next shelves.” you tell him and megumi nods at you, sparing you a glance before returning to his book.

minutes passed and megumi suspiciously eyes the shelves. you were taking longer than usual, a book in your hand while you happily skips to him. showing a book that you consider to be a steal but he was only greeted by silence.

closing the book in his hand, megumi returned it into the shelf and makes his way where you were supposed to be. before he can turn, a all-too familiar voice made his hearing perked up.

“please, i don't want anything to do with you.” your voice small and what megumi had seen his blood boiled. he can see you caged between the arms of a man that is not him.

“you heard my girlfriend. let her go.” a scowl etched in his face and hearing his voice, the man looks at him. smirking at megumi.

you instantly runs where megumi is.

“this is your boyfriend?” the man feigns in disbelief and you facepalmed. this man was literally digging his own grave. nobody want to see megumi angry. having a reputation for beating the living daylights out of people and you don't want him wrecking havoc here.

“megumi. don't. please. he's not worth it.” you pleaded. trying to convince megumi not to shed blood here.

“hey you there girl. make sure this man could satisfy you.” he laughs before leaving you two alone.

you could almost breathe in relief but megumi's murderous aura reels in the air and you gulped.

a yelp escaped in your lips when you were pinned against the bookshelves. your back hitting the hard wood. you couldn't speak a word where you felt his cold lips in your neck. a moan almost escaping you.

“you're a sight for sore eyes, you know that.” his breathe tickling your cheeks and his hand cups your soft jaw. his eyes burning in anger and jealousy.

“next time that shit happens, i'm taking you right here.”

NANAMI KENTO

men will be men. nanami loosens his tie to properly breathe or else he had already murdered his colleagues who has not been so quiet at checking about you.

he can't blame them though. you were the embodiment of a gorgeous coworker who smiles at everyone and that godforsaken outfit you wore. making your curves pop out. almost making everyone's mouth drools at the sight of you.

he can feel the frustration building inside him. nanami didn't like it a bit when his colleagues would stare like you were a piece of meat. he was still pissed earlier for that annoying intern who acts like he owns the place and constantly flirting with you. although, you brushed it off like nothing and resumed work like usual.

his eyes follows the sight of the annoying intern again whose following you again whilst you printed out the last remaining papers that needed to be passed. you're going to get a piece of me. nanami thought.

lunch rolled and you were currently making yourself a cup of coffee. not until you can sense the presence of someone behind you.

“hi there, kento.” you smiled.

“i don't like how they are looking at you.” his fingers brushing your cheeks before leaning down to kiss you.

you relished on it before pushing him away. “ken, they'll see us.”

“let them.” grabbing the mug in your hands and placed it on the table beside. holding your waist before lifting you up. placing you on the table and continued kissing you. his hands creeping up under your blouse. loving how nanami could get frisky at times like this.

drunk in his kisses, you didn't care if anyone could see you at this state right now. letting nanami take control while you holds his tie.

“what the fu-” nanami hears a voice. looking at the door where the intern stood. eyes wide he watches nanami kiss you.

nanami smirks, watch this little shit. he thought and the man left after that. now, you weren't getting bothered by anyone at this time.

GOJO SATORU

you blink owlishly. realizing your bastard of a boyfriend hadn't arrived yet. taking his sweet time and he would only comment at his tardiness. why would i bother? he would say and he goes on.

this party is starting without him and you grabbed a seat near the bartender's and took a sip of your drink. deciding you'll wait for him.

“is this seat taken?” a hand taps on your shoulder and you replied with a no.

the guy sits and orders his drink of choice before turning to face you.

“have someone with you here?”

“yeah, running late.” you replied.

“you know, i can entertain you while waiting for that someone of yours.” he smugly commented. taking a swig from his drink.

“excuse me.” standing up and he holds your wrist to stop you.

"just kidding." he chuckles.

“what do we have here.” his playful tone rings in the space. ripped arms wrapping around your soft middle while he placed a kiss in your neck.

gojo placed his jaw in your head. amused at someone for flirting at you. he knows his fluffy girlfriend would never give attention to other man besides him. his blue eyes peeking behind his dark glasses.

“what kind of entertainment will that be? hm?” gojo hums.

the guy was left speechless and gojo boosting his ego smiles at him.

“my girlfriend would be having plenty of that entertainment when you're out of sight. now, go on.”

the guy left. leaving you alone with gojo who was smirking and looking below him. his girlfriend staring at him.

“sorry, (y/n).” you scoff. “you're never sorry.”

“damn right you are.” he chuckles.

“neh, (y/n). how about we have some fun to ourselves.” you laugh at him while he pulls you in a secluded spot.

“(y/n), i could eat you right here, y'know.” his hot breath fanning your ears. Sending shivers to your spine and heat pooling in your stomach.

“satoru, we can't.” face flustered at his risqué remarks. gojo chuckled at your reaction. he loves how helpless you look under him. gojo grabbed the both sides of your head as he pulls you in a searing kiss.

breaking the kiss, “of course we can't baby girl don't want them know how naughty you are.”

[jichanxo]

haul under the cut 👍 (this is gonna get long because i want to link to as many artists as possible)

kseichu (beatrice, oc stuff) (linktree) crmsnmsk (arakawa family pin) (etsy) kirvia (carrd), qosic (bio site), naroym (tw, ig) -- they boothed together, but i think the sigma is from qosic, and the zine from kirvia+naroym. naroym drew the little tomi! dearmiini (bunny stickers) (store, ig) anime abbotsford (cardcaptor sakura x sanrio figure) (website) kr3amroll (yagami keychain, shishido keychain) (linktree) jarofjamm (ichi+tanimura print) (website, tumblr) pastel aggressive (glitter heart stickers) (facebook) alli ens (photocard holder) (website, tumblr) marinewaltz (ffxiv and vocaloid stickers) (website, tumblr)

and of course, the magazine i mentioned in this post. grabbed it secondhand from hondarake! was recommended to me by someone (and my sister insisted on going) and yeah. good spot tbh i enjoyed it very much and i will be back (or perhaps lurking their site now that i know it exists...)

probably going to be less active for about a week or so cause i'm going to sydney (and attending smashcon).

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 19 - "What if we're wrong?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Sort of Danny's perspective and a different side to Prompt 4, probably not as creative as the awesome reblogs and comments but hope people will still like it. Also posting this early too because I am an impatient B and going to be busy with work tomorrow again.

Danny looked nervously up at his sister who was giving him an encouraging smile and had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. His gaze wandered back to the paper in his hands, a face with a confident smile printed largely on it. A cutout from a business magazine Jazz had happened to read.

"It's not too late, we could still just turn around and go back to Amity." Danny muttered, the paper crumpling ever so slightly in his hands. His sister sighed, wishing that her brothers best friends could have come along with them.

"Danny, it will be fine." She told him her hand moved from his shoulder to rub comforting circles on her brother's back. "Let's settle into the hotel first. We have your entire semester vacation to figure out how to continue from there."

"But Jazz, what if we're wrong? Just because I was adopted as a baby and that Ancestry thing I did in middle school contacted us about someone matching up with the DNA I sent there in middle school, it doesn't mean that he is…"

"Danny." Jazz cut in, lightly pushing her brother forward so he would start moving. "You are starting to overthink again."

"But we could be wrong!" Danny insisted once more the paper now completely crumbled in his hands. "This sounds too good to be true! And you know that good things don't just easily happen to me! I know something is going to happen to mess it all up or maybe I will mess it all up and…"

Jazz turned on her brother to make him face her, they had barely managed to step out of the airport before her brother fell into another spiral, one of many he had ever since that Ancestry Agency had contacted them. She cradled her brother's face in her hands making him look at her.

"Danny. When you had that school project about Ancestry in middle school, Mom and Dad admitted to having you adopted as a baby but not your twin brother you already freaked out then. You did that whole DNA thing with the school project as cover in hopes that your brother might have done it too. When nothing came back from it, what did I tell you then?"

"That I was an idiot to do it behind your back?" Jazz pinched her little brother's cheeks with a fond smile.

"Not that, what else did I say?"

"That I will always be your brother no matter what?"

"And?"

"And… and that I shouldn't lose hope because you would help me if I really wanted to meet him."

Jazz changed her hold on her brother from cradling his face to hugging him tightly. "That's right idiot. So if you really want to go back to Amity Park we can easily do that, there is no need for you to panic." She felt her brother nodd into her shoulder. "So do you really want to go back?"

"I guess… I could at least see if all these magazines are telling the truth and if he really is living a good life." Jazz pulled away from her brother now holding him by his shoulders and beamed at him happily. Before leading her brother to the hotel she had booked for them.

Both did not notice that their little exchange had happened in perfect view of a surveillance camera and had gotten caught by someone who had gotten interested in their movements ever since a certain someone had a little freak out in regards to finding someone that shared his DNA.

Later at night on the same day, Danny found himself unable to sleep. Feeling restless he decided to take a look at the night sky's of Gotham in hopes to calm his growing nervousness ever since he arrived in this city. Jazz was sleeping peacefully in the room next to his, so to not disturb her, he changed forms, turned invisible and phased through several ceilings until he reached the roof.

Once there Danny dropped his invisibility as well as transformation and just sat on the roof, not on the edge mind you, but by the door that usually would have led up here doing his best to look as much as a normal civilian trying to enjoy the night sky as possible. He had heard about Batman not wanting any Metas in his city, Phantom probably wouldn't be very welcomed either then.

Danny sat there staring up at the cloudy skies, frowning how with the light pollution and clouds he was unable to see even a single star. He was contemplating the pros and cons about changing form and flying above the cloud level to see the stars when he heard a soft thud not too far from him. Too silent to be picked up by normal hearing but his ghost enchanted one picked it up.

"You are not from Gotham, are you?" Danny tensed at the voice that resounded over the roof. His head turned towards where the voice came from and noticed the figure shadowed by the clouds, glad in red and black colores. "Gothamites know not to be out on roofs at night."

Danny swallowed but didn't move as the figure stepped closer. "You are Red Robin."

"So you know of me?" Danny watched how the other twirled around a bo-staff, if he didn't know better he would have said that the vigilante appeared nervous.

"My best friend kind of told me about the vigilantes of Gotham when he learned that I was going to visit the city." He carefully admitted to Red Robin and Danny wasn't lying Tucker had prepared an entire list about Gotham's vigilantes as well as all the celebrities. Danny was very thankful that he had not mentioned to his best friend that Tim Drake-Wayne might be the twin he had been looking for for years now. That would have been a whole other ordeal he didn't want to deal with yet.

"Got a favorite yet?" The vigilante asked and did Danny imagine it or was his tone weirdly hopeful?

He shrugged as answer, noting how the vigilantes' shoulders appear to drop in disappointment. Though a moment later Red Robin walked a bit closer and crouched, while Danny had yet to move from his sitting position. "So… why are you out on the roof late at night?"

"I was hoping to see the stars."

"The stars?"

"Stargazing always helped me calm down." Danny admitted turning his gaze from the vigilante to the cloudy sky. He didn't take his eyes completely off the other, his shoulders were still tense but for some reasons his body wanted to relax in the other's presence.

"You went up on a roof late at night to calm down?" He eyed the vigilante, wondering why the other was so interested in Danny right now but also wondering if Danny was really going to dumb his whole emotional turmoil on a complete stranger. What would Jazz say if she knew about this? Probably psycho analyze this whole situation and reason that Danny just wanted someone not involved to just listen to him without the objectives Jazz wasn't able to provide.

He eyed the vigilante once more, noting how the other appeared to be just as tense as Danny was, before opening his mouth. "I am only in Gotham because the twin I have been looking for for years lives here."

The vigilante hummed, sounding interested, indicating for Danny to continue. "I don't even know if he knows about me or would even want to see me. For all I know he doesn't even know I exist. Mom and Dad adopted me from the orphanage as a baby but not my twin brother."

Danny started to ramble on not noticing the sharp intake of air Red Robin took. "He may have a perfectly good life! And here I am appearing out of nowhere and possibly destroying it! What if I mess up his whole family dynamic! I mean how crazy is that? A stranger just appears out of nowhere saying he is your twin with no proof other than the stupid mail from an Ancestry DNA Testing facility stating they found a DNA similar to your own? Ancients, this sounds even more stupid when I say it out loud!"

In his rant Danny hadn't noticed Red Robin having come closer and their hand carefully hovering over his shoulder. "Hey…"

He looked up sharply at the vigilante next to him that was now placed on his shoulder, radiating a warmth that felt grounding to Danny. "I am sure it is not as bad as you think it is. If those Ancestry people contacted you, they might have contacted your twin also and who knows he could possibly be very interested in learning more about your whole situation?"

Danny blinked at the vigilante that was apparently trying to give him a reassuring smile despite the upper half of his face being covered by a mask and he couldn't help but return the smile with a small grateful one of his own.

The vigilante looked like he wanted to say something else but Danny's phone suddenly started buzzing, he hurried to pull it out of his pockets noticing several texts from his sister arriving in a rapid fashion.

"My sister." He muttered, looks like Jazz had woken up and tried to check on him like he was still a little child, he smiled fondly at the phone.

Side eyeing the vigilante, both stood up. "I uh…"

"You better hurry back in. She will probably grow more worried the longer you stay up here."

Blinking at the vigilante, Danny nodded, moving towards the door that would lead back into the building while the vigilante started to move towards the edge of the building. Before Danny could try to see if the door was locked or open he turned over his shoulder wanting to voice his thanks to the other for listening to his ranting but found the vigilante gone.

Staring for a moment before shrugging Danny let his eyes wander over the roofs of the other buildings just in case before deciding to forgo his transformation and just phase through the floors invisible without it until he reached his room.

In the shadows on the roof of the building to the side Red Robin arched an eyebrow under his mask before turning to the coms. "Meta status is confirmed. Also Nightwing, think you can help me create the most natural and unsuspicious situation for me to meet him tomorrow? I already have a couple of ideas."

"I think we can work something out easily RR."

"Good."

"It sounded like there was a whole lot more to this twin situation than we originally thought."

"Yea..."

"Chin up Red! We will get to the bottom of this!"

"He likes stargazing..." Red Robin mutter to himself, not really listening to his siblings on the coms. "I will take him to the planetarium, first chance I got."

[leaawrites]

Between Us

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: After a heavy break up, both of them see that what they've done wasn't what they wanted

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

You’d think that over time, people would forget. That they would move on, find new people to obsess over, new couples to admire. Though some stayed focused on one past forever. Lingering over photos from a decade ago, a smile on their faces. Gushing over people’s private life that they didn’t know.

But she knew. She lingered over the pictures and she knew what happened, how it all ended. She knew the story and she knew the ending. Though she never told anyone.

Damon and her dated for seven years, until it ended in 2001. An abrupt ending with little explanation to anyone outside of their house.

“It just didn’t work anymore,” she told the press at movie premiers. All while Damon simply ignored every question that involved even the slightest mention of her name.

The media, being hungry for the meanest kind of funny and not accepting that two adults could make a mutual decision, painted a picture of their own imagination.

‘DAMON ALBARN SHOWING UP ALONE TO THE BRIT AWARDS AFTER LONG-TIME GIRLFRIEND, Y/N L/N, CHEATED ON HIM.’

‘GOOD LUCK TO NEWLY SINGLE, DAMON ALBARN. May he live in peace now.’

“Do you want me to say something?” He asked her over the phone, miles away from her. Not able to console her like he once did. It hurt to hear her broken voice over the phone, knowing that part of him was at fault for it.

“No, don’t worry about it, Damon.” The use of his name on her tongue almost hurting more than the sniffle she let out seconds after it. “I’ll be fine. It’s gonna last a week or so and then it’ll be forgotten anyway. No need to make more drama out of it.”

Though it didn’t just last a week, it lasted twenty years.

Twenty years filled with accusations, reminders, rumors. Haunting both of them day and night. Pictures in magazines when they had nothing else to print. ‘DAMON ALBARN SPOTTED WITH NEW WOMAN, WHAT DOES HIS EX THINK ABOUT IT?’

Spoiler: She thought absolutely nothing about it.

‘He lives his life, I live mine. He can do whatever he wants.’

‘IS SHE JEALOUS FOR LETTING HIM GO SO EASILY? FIND OUT IN A BEHIND-THE-SCENES INTERVIEW WITH HOLLYWOOD DIRECTOR, Y/N L/N.’

It was pathetic, truly. Truly pathetic, that’s what they should call themselves.

Her and Damon still stayed in contact sometimes, whether it was to congratulate the other on their new project or a small conversation about life when they accidentally met in a coffee shop.

Though, the night when she was woken up by knocks against her front door at 3 in the morning, she didn’t expect more than an axe-murderer.

With reluctant steps towards the door, the thought that she had nothing and no one to protect her in the middle of the country became more apparent as her hand lingered over the door knob and there was no other sound besides the knocking and her heavy breathing. The knife in her shaking hand not being stable enough to defend herself.

She could just ignore it, but when she heard the sobs through the wooden door separating her and the unexpected guest, she couldn’t help herself.

Swinging the door open, her eyes widened as Damon stood on the other side, bloodshot eyes, probably drunk, crying.

“What are you doing here, Damon?” she asked, the name still hurting to say. No ‘love’ anymore, he was simply Damon to her now.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, his head lulling back and forth as he leaned against the door frame.

Putting the knife down, she tried pulling him inside her house, though he didn’t budge.

“No, no, no. Leave me alone, I have something to say.” He pushed her away slightly, holding her by her biceps at arms-length.

“Can’t you do that inside? It’s freezing.” She tried pulling him inside again, but he only pulled her closer.

Their chest pressed together, the alcohol apparent on his breath fanning down her face. His heart beating against her ribcage. Her hands stabling her body as the fell on his shoulders. Grabbing the flesh under her fingernails to hold herself upwards as her legs felt like giving up from being so close to him again.

“I know the last years were horrible. I should’ve said something earlier, apologize earlier,” he started talking, slurring some of his words.

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known it’d be this bad.”

“Sh,” he shushed her before gathering his words and talking once more. Finger laying over her lips. “And I refuse to believe that all those years ago was our end. It can’t have been. It can’t end like that, not you and me.”

She wanted to interrupt him again, ask what he was saying, what he was referring to. She wanted to stop his movement as his hands slid down her arms and lost her skin at her fingertips, until his whole body moved down. One knee propped up in front of him. His fingers messily scrambling for something in jeans pocket.

Pulling out a little velvet box, tears pooled out her eyes as well, streaming down her face.

“Damon,” she tried once more, aware of his condition. Aware of what he must’ve taken to act this way. He wouldn’t do it if he was sober, right?

“Marry me.”

The words hung in the air, surrounded by tension and sobs. Surrounded by lingering looks and feelings they both still held dearly.

“Please,” his voice was quieter now. Almost begging. “I know we haven’t been as close as before, but I still hold you in my heart the same I did 10 years ago. I can’t let you go. Not if I still don’t know if we’re absolutely over. Until then I’ll fight and dream and ask. So, please, say yes and let us fight and dream and love together.”

“Damon,” she said. “You’re drunk. High, I don’t know. I can’t just say yes if you’re like this.”

“You don’t want to marry me?” His voice was shaking, his head hung low in surrender, tears welling up in his own eyes once more.

“I do,” she whispered. “I want to marry you, always did. But it’s unfair of you to ask me now.”

“Then say yes and let us be happy.”

“Not now, in the morning maybe.”

Damon nodded, standing up, closing the box and putting it back to where it had been hidden for too long. It had to wait a bit longer now, maybe forever.

She stepped to the side, letting him pass her, his eyes lingering on her face, searching parts he forgot. Though there was nothing. It was still the same face he saw in his dreams whenever he closed his eyes.

The rest of the night was spent in silence, she brought him pillows and a blanket to have it comfortable on her couch. And while night went and day rose, both laid down, trying to rest, but neither getting the rapid beating of their heart to slow down.

The sun dried her tears away and soon enough, she found herself in her kitchen making coffee for both of them, Damon asleep in the room next to her.

She could still ponder the options in her head, but what would they do when he woke up? What would she say to him? If he even remembered what happened.

A groan coming from him made her head turn around, reality creeping up their spines at the same time. He didn’t recognize the ceiling, neither the walls around him, but he could identify the smell that hung in the air. It was hers.

A strike of lightning shot through his body, making him sit up, the pain coming shortly after. His head aching. But it didn’t matter when her wide eyes stared back at him.

Slowly, one by one, pictures crept back.

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh my god. I didn’t ask you, did I? Please say I didn’t.”

“You did,” she confessed, making him grown once more.

Scrambling to his feet, Damon walked over to the kitchen entrance. “Shit. I swear I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably nothing.”

His words made her throat tighten, her heart cried out a sorrowful scream, half laughing about her, half yearning for him to take his words back.

“So, you don’t actually want to marry me? It was all just some drunk mistake?” The words felt like venom on her tongue.

Venom that made his eyes widen in realization.

“I mean, I did - I do. But I never- I never wanted you to know. I just- you probably hate me now. You said, no, right?” He couldn’t remember what she said. After his speech, he forgot everything.

“I never said no,” she confessed.

“You didn’t?” It surprised him. Why didn’t she say no?

Shaking her head softly, she walked closer to him. Leaning on the wall next to him. “I told you, that I wouldn’t answer you until you were sober.”

His eyes slipped down to her lips, sucked between her teeth anxiously.

“Marry me.”

He said it once more, the words feeling heavier now. Reality feeling heavier now.

But her words were light.

“Yes.”

And when her lips fell on his, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, the world felt light.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” she said as they laid under her covers, hidden from the rest of the world. “Let us stay like this forever.”

“Like what?”

“Secretly happy, enjoying ourselves and letting no one else near what we have. I want you, Damon. I want to love you unconditionally. I don’t want to end like we did last time.”

“We won’t let it happen, I promise. I won’t let it happen.”

“So, we keep it between us?”

“It’s just you and me. Forever.”

And they said yes, forever. Keeping it quiet, keeping their life away from anyone who was too interested in it.

Another ten years passed, and when the same day came around from which on they were bound together by a promise, they made it official.

A post, a simple one.

‘New song at midnight. A special one.’

‘Between Us’ was nothing anyone expected. A simple piano, words of love and a video of memories. Just them two. Like it had always been.

A message at the end of the video.

‘I can’t believe I get to live my life with you. The most perfect person I’ve ever met. The love of my life. Twenty years have passed, with a break in between that I’ve never regretted more than when I saw you again, and I still love you like I did the first day I saw you. Until death do us apart and every life time after.’

Written by Damon Albarn and Y/n L/n.

Directed by Y/n L/n.

[zorrasucia]

Teach Me Tonight - Part 6

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] Part 6: [Part 7] [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (5k)

Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Jealous!Carmy, SoftDom!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Make up Sex, Sex Toys, P in V sex, Oral (M and F receiving), Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary:

You were in over your head.

Some fashion vlogger had recorded a video in your store, giving it a glowing review and it had been good for business. Maybe too good. The store was now full of stylish teenagers with baggy jeans and designer bags, you had a new hire to train, and a local journalist had emailed you to ask for an interview.

He showed up a couple of days later, tall with dark hair, and every bit as stylish as you would expect a reporter from a fashion magazine to be. You had shown him around, let him take photos, talked about your favorite brands and decades of fashion, and complimented his printed shirt.

"It's from the seventies," he commented bashfully. "I'm a little obsessed."

And he talked about his ongoing quest for the perfect pair of bell bottoms. You showed him what you had in the store and promised to be on the lookout.

"You know, it's weird," he gestured to the side, where The Bear was. "I used to come here when they did sandwiches."

"They still do!" you beamed. "The fine dining is really good too. Well, I'm biased but-"

"Right! Being their neighbor and all," he concluded. You simply nodded along - no need to let him know the intricacies of your personal life.

"Let me buy you lunch," he offered. You were about to refuse when he added. "I'd love to try their food but I hate eating alone."

You accepted. It seemed harmless and it could be good for the restaurant too - maybe he knew a food critic and would recommend the place too.

Richie guided you both to a table with a smile, quickly catching up with your plan once you mentioned the interview, offering the journalist a sampler of the menu.

It was good - the food, the conversation. It caught you by surprise when Carmy stormed out of the kitchen, something angry in his stride.

"Are you enjoying the food?"

It was a simple enough question, it was the way he said it-

"It's excellent, thank you!" the journalist said earnestly, which only seemed to wind up Carmy even more.

"Good, great," he rasped, then turned towards you. "Can I talk to you?" it was said in that clipped tone that meant he was stressed and he didn't have good news.

You followed him to the back and touched his wrist briefly, trying to convey how important this was.

"Carm?" you asked, your face wrinkling in worry and confusion.

"You mad at me or something?" he asked.

"No! Just nervous, stressed... I don't even know - it's just the interview," you tried to reassure him. "Can we talk later, baby?"

"Sorry to interrupt," the journalist had walked up to you without either of you noticing. "I just wanted to know - are you the chef here?"

"He is, yes!" you smiled, thinking everything was going according to plan.

“Carmen Berzatto,” he said without offering his hand, his frown furrowed and something deadly in his stare.

The journalist gave one look at Carmy and his face shifted from friendly to scared. "I'll give you guys a minute."

Carmy was burning holes on the back of the guy's skull and you couldn't be more embarrassed.

"What's wrong with you?" you whispered.

"That fucking guy."

"He's the fucking journalist! Are you out of your mind, Carmen?" you were losing the last shred of patience you had left. "I was trying to do a nice thing and you- We can talk about this later at home, okay? Now leave, please."

You turned away from him and didn't look back until you had paid for lunch and walked the journalist out the door.

"I'm so sorry about him," you explained. "It wasn't personal."

"Don't worry about it. I worked as a server once. I swear working in a kitchen does things to your brain..." he mimicked a spiral by his temple. You winced.

"Yeah."

"Hope he doesn't bother you again," he said, which made your stomach drop. "I'll send you the article when it's done. And you have my number if you ever find those bell bottoms."

He waved goodbye and you huffed in defeat.

Suddenly, you were being hugged by Nat, her arms around your shoulders.

"Did Carmy send you?" you asked, patting her forearm.

"Kind of," she let go of you with a sigh. "He walked in the kitchen and kind of lost it? I had to get it out of him. And when he explained, I came over."

"Thank you," you said softly.

"He can be an idiot," she said.

"Yeah," you nodded.

"He loves you, though."

"I know," you said, rubbing your temples. It had been a long day. "I'll text him."

You were pacing the carpet, waiting for Carmy to get back from work. You had a list of things you wanted to tell him ready to go: that making a scene like that had been embarrassing and hurtful, that he had probably ruined the whole interview acting that way -

Your train of thought and frantic pacing was interrupted by the key in the door. Carmy walked inside, a defeated look on his face, and every cell in your body wanted to go and hold him but you stood still, arms crossed while he closed the door behind him.

"Hey," you said.

"Hey, I, uh," he stumbled. "What I said... What I did... I mean, even Richie thought that it was fucked up so..."

He let it hang there, in the air between you two, keeping his distance.

"Carm," you took a deep inhale. "I need you to understand the store is just as important to me as the restaurant is to you. It's finally going well. And maybe that means I have less time for you. I need to know that you'll be okay with it - with me being busy sometimes - that whatever that was won't happen again."

"I know, I know," he said looking at the ground. "I'm happy it's working out. I am."

You tilted your head. "Then what the hell happened?"

He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

"It's so stupid," he mumbled, embarrassed. "I got jealous. So fucking jealous. I had never- I didn't know what to do with it."

You uncrossed your arms - you actually hadn’t thought of that.

"No need to be, Carm," you reassured him.

"I just-" he blinked hard like he sometimes did when he was stressed. "This tall as fuck guy, with the fancy fucking shirt, just being charming around you..."

"You think I care about that shit?"

"I don't know, maybe?" Carmy looked at you with wide eyes. "I'm an asshole sometimes, I cancel plans, my family is a fucking mess-"

"Hey, I like Nat!" you interrupted his spiral.

"And I think she likes you better than me."

You stood in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry. I am," he said in the end.

You moved one step closer and pressed your forehead to his. "It's okay if you're jealous, Carm. Just- keep your cool if it happens again. Please," you said softly. "I don't know if I can handle you acting like that again."

He nodded. "Promise."

"I'm coming home to you, baby. No one else," you emphasized, running your hands over his chest.

"Mhmm," he tilted his head, eyes closed, like he wanted to kiss you but needed your permission. You surged forward, trapping him in a tight embrace and a searing kiss.

It got heated quickly.

He cornered you towards the kitchen, grabbing and pressing, until you were sitting on the counter, legs bracketing his hips, hands in his hair.

"Carmy," you gasped, as he kissed your neck like only he knew how. His tongue traced the contour of your collarbone and you moaned.

He undid the first few buttons of your blouse, burying his face between your breasts, kissing and nipping. You carded your fingers through his hair, and crossed your legs behind him, keeping him close. The heat between your thighs was getting more unbearable as time went by. He started kissing down, like he would eat you out, atoning for what happened, but you didn't want that.

You pulled on his hair and made him look up. "I need you inside me," he exhaled shakily. "Now."

He took a condom out of his back pocket while you unbuttoned his slacks, undressing him just enough to free his cock. His hands went under your skirt, eager, and moved your underwear to the side. When Carmy leaned to start fingering you, you grabbed his wrist.

"I need your cock inside me," you clarified.

You didn't want the tenderness of foreplay. You moved to the edge of the counter, taking his cock in hand and putting the condom on yourself. You guided his head to your entrance and felt him fill you out. It hurt a little, your pussy tight and unprepped, and weirdly that was what you wanted now. You whined once he bottomed out and he groaned at the feeling, the sound making you roll your eyes.

"Fuck," you held him close, arms around his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. Without knowing where it came from, you said to the side of his face: "Show me I'm yours."

He inhaled sharply, his hands shaking where they held your waist. Then his hips moved back and forth in one long, agonizing stroke. You moaned. Again. And you held him tighter, letting drowned out cries pour out from your lips. He kept going for a little while, the pace so slow that it made you wonder whether all his anger had fizzled out by now.

Except he started going hard, hitting that spot that made you dizzy. Your breasts and legs were shaking with every thrust. You covered your mouth to stop from screaming.

"Holy shit, Carmy" you mumbled.

His hands touched all over, scratching your thighs and up, squeezing your hips, tracing your sides, caressing your arms and holding your wrists. You shivered. His cock kept hitting just right, his mouth exhaling on the side of your face. His hand traveled south, finding your clit like it was second nature, thumbing at it in small circles, just the way you liked.

"No one can fuck me like this," you whined. "No one makes me feel this good."

His hips stuttered and he moved so that your foreheads were touching and his eyes were staring right into yours, you could feel the sweat on his brow.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," you replied, your jaw slack as you kept panting and moaning. His pace was so steady that it felt like Carmy could go on forever. Then, impatient, you started thrusting your hips against his, making it go twice as fast, making him groan into your mouth and start losing control.

"Fuck," he cursed, grabbing your hips, steadying himself. "I'm so crazy about you."

"Carmy," you managed to say, desperate, your voice getting high, and your nails scratching at his scalp.

His free hand squeezed your breast over your bra and you slipped your hands under his shirt, caressing the hair on his navel, and up his chest, pinching one of his nipples hard.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned again.

You were so close you could almost taste it. Just then you grabbed his face with both hands.

"Tell me," you pleaded. "Tell me you'll never do that again. Tell me I'm yours."

"Never. Never, I promise," Carmy breathed into your mouth, little desperate sounds escaping his throat. "You're mine, you're mine, you're mine."

He came with a strong exhale, drowning every other sound into your neck. His thumb on your clit kept moving until you joined him, completely spent, bracing on the edge of the counter to stop yourself from falling back.

He placed gentle kisses on your throat while you both recovered your breath. You clenched your walls around his cock, drawing a satisfied moan out of him.

"Did you get the guy's contact?" he panted against your skin.

"Yeah, why?" you replied ruffling his hair with your exhale.

"Thought I'd send him a cannoli or something," Carmy looked up from his place on your chest. "Make sure what I did doesn't make you look bad."

You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing.

"I don't think that's necessary but I'm sure he'll appreciate it. He said something about wanting to marry whoever made the desserts," you teased.

"Don't think Marcus'll be interested," Carmy inhaled deeply, his nose on the exact place you sprayed perfume every morning, though by now it had probably faded into a saltier scent. "When's the article coming out?"

"Couple of weeks," you hummed, caressing his back under his shirt.  "We have time, baby. So much time."

~

You were leaning on the kitchen door, watching as Carmy and Syd posed against the counter. A photographer was giving them vague instructions about where to stand and where to look. She was also complimenting Carmy and hitting on him like she was getting paid overtime for it.

"Sydney, lean forward, yes, nice! Carmen, hit me with those blue eyes! Gorgeous, what a handsome guy!" she said with a cat-like smile.

The restaurant was going to be featured in Food & Wine, which entailed a photoshoot.

They had both started wearing their chef's whites, going for a more professional approach. Then, to make them more comfortable, the photographer asked them to change into their street clothes. It had done wonders for Syd, who was now showing off one of her mother's beautiful shirts with a proud smile on her face. It hadn't been quite as successful with Carmy - he had a tortured look in his eyes. Now he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, even more withdrawn than when they had started, every wink and cheesy one-liner from the photographer making him wince.

"Okay, Sydney, a little to the side. Exactly, chin up, please! And Carmen - why don't you stand this way? Yeah, let's show off those arms."

You bit your bottom lip.

"Carm?" you called him - he turned with wide eyes. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

He nodded. "Sorry, excuse us," he mumbled, leaving the kitchen quickly, trailing behind you. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry," he said, his blue eyes pleading.

"What for?"

"All the things she's saying..." he turned briefly, making sure the door was closed. "Fuck, I don't mean to-"

"You're not doing anything wrong, baby," you reassured him, cupping his face gently. "It looked like you needed a break, is all."

"Yeah," he exhaled heavily. "It's a lot."

You nodded. "The kitchen looks really nice," you commented to lighten the mood. They had done a deep clean the day before that had run into midnight.

"Thanks," he smiled. Then added: "This is a fucking nightmare."

You intertwined your fingers with his. "I think-" you paused, "that she wants you to look confident. That's why she keeps saying nice things."

"They don't feel nice," he bit his cheek.

You remembered how hard it had been for him to accept compliments for anything other than his cooking when you had first started dating. He would scoff and dismiss every word. Even now, sometimes it felt like he didn't quite believe them and maybe was just humoring you - which broke your heart. There wasn't enough time to unpack all that, so instead you leaned forward, placing one hand on his hip, whispering to his ear, flirtatious.

"Carm, I want you to go in there and eye fuck that camera like you would if it was me," he took a sharp inhale. "I will make it worth your while. Let you do anything you want to me," you promised.

He gulped. "Jesus," he mumbled, his pupils dilated.

You gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. "I'll tell them you'll be back in a few minutes," you said with a satisfied grin and went back to your place by the kitchen door.

"He went for a quick smoke," you lied to Syd.

When Carmy returned, he was in control, hands on his hips, like he had suddenly remembered he owned the place.

"Okay, guys, let's get this over with," he took his place next to Sydney, leaning on the counter and staring right into the lens, something defiant in his stance.

Your heart started racing. Even the photographer seemed affected by the shift.

"Uh, yes, good," after a few clicks she said: "I think we got it. Mmm, one more from this angle and we'll be good to go."

She led them to the main entrance to The Bear, Sydney crossing her arms and Carmy mirroring that same stance. They looked like they had stepped out of a magazine, modeling some understated and ridiculously expensive brand. Carmy looked in your direction for a second and licked his lips, before he turned back to the camera, unflinching and determined.

Another few clicks.

"Thank you guys, that would be all," the photographer went up to shake their hands and say her goodbyes. You were about to follow her out when Carmy took you by the wrist.

"See you tonight," he drawled and you felt yourself get wet.

"When I said you could do anything you wanted to me, I wasn't expecting this," you panted, your hands buried in Carmy's curls, as he kept kissing and licking every inch of your pussy. He was taking his sweet time too, biting on your thighs and going up to give some attention to your breasts and neck whenever he felt you were getting too close to your release.

"What were you expecting?" he asked, an amused glow to his face while he rested his chin on your hip, his mouth and nose shiny with your arousal.

"I don't know," you sighed, frustrated but so turned on. His hand caressed your pussy gently and you moaned. "Give you a blowjob, wear a silly costume, something like that."

"And are you into that?" he asked.

"I do like to suck your cock," you said honestly. Sometimes, with other guys, it had felt like a chore, not with Carmy, you loved to see him come undone, let go completely.

"See, the thing is," he kissed the curve of your hip, "if you gave me a blowjob it would be over so quickly," he exhaled right on your spread out clit which made you shudder. "And where's the fun in that?"

You giggled giddily when he squeezed your ass, manhandling you closer to his face, keeping his focus on your pussy.

"So you're just going to edge me until I beg?" you asked, half wanting for him to say yes.

"Don't worry," he gave a long lick, from the bottom of your lips to the top, making you arch your back and curse. "You will come," there was something dark in his eyes again, that same determination from the photoshoot back in his face - he was in charge. "When I want you to."

You shivered. "Fuck, Carm."

He started sucking on your clit, his tattooed fingers curling inside of you. You melted under his touch, feeling your pussy squeeze his fingers.

"Please, Carmy..."

He stopped sucking, messing with the rhythm, keeping you hanging by a thread.

"You will come," he repeated, "when I want you to," the speed of his fingers increased. "As many times as I want you to."

You moaned. His mouth latched onto your clit, licking until you were thrashing on the bedsheets, his forearm kept you in place on the mattress.

"Fuck, shit, baby," you mumbled. Your gazes met, his blue eyes fiery. He nodded and you came in a blur, desperately grabbing at anything - his hair, the bedsheets - the feeling all the more intense for the time he had spent working you up. He kept kissing and sucking until you stopped moaning and started chuckling breathily.

"Just like that," he praised, something playful in his voice and you would have teased back if you weren't so completely spent.

He kissed the outside of your folds, staying away from your clit and your entrance, just worshipping the skin around them and you caressed his hair lovingly.

"You make me feel so fucking good," you exhaled.

He climbed up your body and kissed you hard, mouth open, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His cock, hard inside his jeans, grazed the lower part of your belly, it made you tremble in anticipation. "You gonna fuck me?" you asked between one kiss and the next, your hips lifting up to ground on his.

He clicked his tongue. "Not yet," he got up and opened the drawer of your bedside table, taking out your rabbit vibrator. "This charged?"

You nodded, biting your lip.

"Good girl," he praised and your hand squeezed your breast almost unconsciously; something happened to you whenever he talked to you like that.

He lowered himself next to you, held up by one arm; his hand teased your pussy, his calloused fingers spreading wetness around.

"D'you need lube, baby?" he asked, more out of politeness than anything since he knew the answer very well.

"I think I'm okay, Carm," you laughed and he kissed the side of your face.

"Mhmm. So fucking hot," he whispered and you felt the dildo poking at your entrance.

You placed your hand on the side of Carmy's face, your thumb near the edge of his mouth. He sucked on it thoroughly, then let go with a pop. You whined needily.

"Please, please, please..." it poured out of you.

He bumped your forehead with his, his gaze was intense and hungry.

"Keep looking at me," he ordered, and you obeyed, keeping your eyes open even as the dildo went all the way inside you and filled you up deliciously. The coldness of the toy reminded you it wasn't Carmy's cock - but he was holding it, he was right there next to you. Your face contorted in pleasure.

"Yes, like that," he encouraged you, his words tickling inside your belly. He seemed to be overcome just looking at you - it made you feel wanted, adored, beautiful. You wanted to make him feel that way too.

"Carm," you gasped. "I need you to know- Oh, fuck," he pumped the toy inside you, slow, so slow. "I need you to know," you repeated through the fog of pleasure, "all those things the photographer said. They're true. Oh, my God, baby," his expression softened even as he buried the dildo deep inside you. "Your eyes are beautiful," another thrust, you caressed his face. "Your arms are so hot," you held onto the arm that was fucking you, squeezing the muscle there. "Shit. You're handsome, gorgeous, fucking- oh!" you blurted all at once, turning the compliments into moans. "I swear - fuck!" you held his gaze. "Can't believe you're mine."

He leaned forward, kissing you tenderly, swallowing your moans.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you," you replied, a choked out sound leaving your lips.

He turned on the vibration and watched you lose control, becoming desperate with lust, thrusting your hips wildly. He kept you there a bit longer than necessary, torturing you a little with how long he was drawing it out. It was so good, so fucking good.

"Carmy. Please," you begged.

"I know, I know," he soothed. "You're doing so good."

It sent a shiver down your spine and made the very last thread inside you snap.

"Oh," you exhaled, coming harder than you ever had, scratching at his forearm, screaming into the skin of his shoulder.

"Sound so nice," Carmy mumbled, looking as pussy drunk as a man could be without actually fucking one. "Baby, baby, baby."

You stayed there for a while, the dildo still inside you, and Carmy's hands touching your waist tenderly while you kissed.

After a long while of that, he got up from the bed, and started getting undressed while you watched. You bit your lip and put your head on your hand, enjoying the sight. He caught you staring.

"You really meant all those things you said," it began as a statement and ended as a question, Carmy's voice going up slightly.

"Every word," you said, taking out the dildo as Carmy showed you his cock. You licked your lips. "D'you mind? Me saying things like that?"

You wanted him to be confident but you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

He shook his head. "I liked it," he admitted. He stood right by you, beside the bed, fiddling with the condom he had retrieved from your drawer. "Made me feel good."

"I'm glad, Carm," you reached out to caress his leg, following the line of muscle there. Saying he was beautiful once while you fucked wasn't going to change his mind, but you were willing to keep trying.

In the meantime, you could show him. Even with the exhaustion of everything Carmy had done to you, you wanted him inside you, wanted to see him roll his eyes in ecstasy. You crawled to where he was, kneeling, near the edge of the mattress. His cock was hard, pulsing, and it made your mouth water. He stood still, dropped the condom on the mattress, probably guessing what you were about to do.

When you were an inch away from his cock, he pulled your hair and stopped you.

He gestured at the vibrator. "Put that back inside you," he said in that demanding voice and you rushed to do as he said, only uttering a small moan when you had it inside you. He leaned over, tracing a long line from your neck to your ass, reaching to turn it back on on the lowest setting. You writhed a little but after a moment of adjusting to the feeling you were able to stay still and look at Carmy.

"Good girl," he said again and you keened, leaning forward to suck his dick. The sound he made once your mouth was on him was heavenly. "Holy fuck."

His hands were tangled in your hair and you wished you could deep throat without choking, just to watch him lose his mind completely. You settled for going as far as you could, getting every inch of him slick with saliva, making him groan and sweat. You looked up, his eyes were white and his face was flushed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to breathe. You hummed with satisfaction and that woke up his competitive streak.

He pulled on your hair lightly. "Gimme a second," he panted. You thought he needed a breather, but he actually moved to turn the vibrator up a couple of notches. You trembled and reached for his ass, bracing, leaving red scratch marks on the tender skin.

"Fuck, baby," you said between moans. "Not fucking fair."

"Mhmm," he smirked, caressing your scalp. It took all your willpower and concentration but you moved forward and went back to sucking his cock, feeling a pang of pride as he threw his head back and uttered some curse you couldn't quite decipher.

The vibrator set a pace you could follow, rocking forward as it pulsed, letting you give Carmy pleasure while you were ridiculously close to losing your mind yourself.

"Shit, baby," he gasped, his knees buckling for a second. "Make me feel- Fuck, y're so good, so good," he mumbled.

The steady pace of the vibrator was building up a tense knot inside you - you were close, and so it became a race of making Carmy come before you did. You doubled your efforts, speeding up, hollowing your cheeks, moaning into his skin.

"You're fucking killing me," he growled, pulling on your hair just the way you liked it, making you roll your eyes as you sucked on his length. You were completely overwhelmed; you couldn't help but whine over and over. "Holy fuck."

He stared right onto your eyes as he came. He had told you he didn't mind if you spit his cum but sometimes you felt like drinking it all, consumed with lust - today was one of those times. You stayed there, licking his slit, caressing his balls until he pulled you away.

"Fuck, baby," he sighed, kneeling on the carpet to look at you.

He was completely wrecked: face red and sweaty, hair messier than you had ever seen it and a glazed look in his eyes. He tilted his head to kiss you thoroughly, tasting the cum leftover on your tongue. You could finally let go. You put your hand between your belly and the mattress, maneuvering the vibrator so it hit right where you needed it and you came immediately, kissing Carmy, biting on his lips, and humping on the bed. It was too much and just enough.

Carmy helped you take it out once you started whining from feeling sore. He moved your body to lie comfortably on the bed, your head on the pillow and him next to you.

"Fucking insane," he exhaled. You chuckled in agreement, fucked out senseless. "D'you need anything?" he asked gently after a moment.

You shook your head, raising a hand to caress his face.

"I feel perfect, Carm."

You moved your index finger, tracing the contour of his eyebrows, the line of his nose, and the curve of his cheekbone. 

“Pretty,” you managed to say.

He smiled and brought you closer, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, his arms around making you feel safe.

~

[Part 7]

~

@th3h0nkz