#the first one is mr forgettable

[twinklingwatermellon]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

[everythingspokenfor]

𝓜𝓻. 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓵

Pairing: Bakugou x reader. All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI. ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏Summary: Maybe you should have looked up what your boss looked like...

Thinking about foreign!reader who comes to Japan as a support tech engineer and having an eventful first meeting with Bakugou

Bakugou hates airports, especially around this time of the year, too crowded, too loud, bustling with people. If he had a choice he wouldn't have come, send in a driver and cozied up in his bed but, his mom had different plans, she had called him the night before, specifically told him to pick her up from the airport. So, here he was, waiting for her plane to land, 3:45 am in the morning, a rapidly cooling coffee in his hand.

He was growing agitated at the whispering around him, it's easy for him to get recognised, blond hair and striking red eyes not easily forgettable. He sharply turns to leave the waiting room, not necessarily paying attention when his hand, the one that was holding cold coffee slams into someone and boom now he is staring at the aftermath.

You are staring start ahead, breathing deeply, you turn your head towards the jerk that slipped coffee all over you. Cold seeped through your shirt, the chill almost chilling your bones. You could feel the coffee seeping into your shirt, then inner wear and then your bra.

"Are you going to apologise or what?" You scowl at him, the coffee seeping through your shirt, the wet cloth irritating you further.

Bakugou continues to stare at you, anger evident on your features, he assumes you aren't Japanese from the lack of accent in your english. Before he could apologise you speak again.

"At least have the courtesy to apologise, asshole" you spit out at him, before throwing him the nastiest little glare.

Bakugou is surprised that you don't him, maybe it's his ego but again he is the top hero maybe not his rankings but he is famous and infamous for reasons. Everyone knows him, even people outside of Japan.

"Do you not know who I am?" He finally speaks, not the smartest response but a response nonetheless.

"Am I supposed to know you?" You look at him incredulously, anger subsiding and confusion settling in.

"you know what, don't answer that, i don't care and I am tired, all I know is you are a jerk and I really wish to never run into you again!" You semi-yell at him and leave the waiting room.

He almost chased after you but he phone started ringing, his mother's contact displayed on the screen, informing him of her arrival.

He looked back at the direction you had gone, but you already disappeared. Sighing he left to pick his mother from the arrival gate. And he leaves, slightly bummed that he didn't get to apologise.

-------

"-nd like he walked straight into me and didn't bother apologising." You waved your hands around, trying to emphasize your impromptu collision with Mr. Brick wall, to your new housemate and colleague.

Not necessarily a good think, shit talking on first day of work, but you had to kinda explain why you were doing laundry in the middle of the night.

"That's rude, could've at least apologised.". Mari agreed, both of you walked down the hallway as she was showing you around the agency building.

"Well, hopefully no further mishaps occur." She had stopped in front of a large laboratory, you could already spot your stuff on one of the tables.

"Yeah, hopefully." You mumbled mindlessly, eyes admiring the lab, it was the largest you had seen, with more advanced equipments as well. Mari left you alone at your destination, already going back to her work.

You also got to work, looking into boxes of broken and damaged support equipments, you had already read about them, their functions and materials used to build.

It was an easy job to repair the items, folding your sleeves you got to work, one by one you repaired majority of the items the only thing left where, chunky, hefty, gauntlets.

You knew the belonged to Pro-Hero Dynamight, read about him in passing, already aware of the architecture of the Gauntlets, it didn't take long for you to fix them up, even being generous enough to replace parts with your tech.

Assuming your work was done you called Mari.

"You still need to see if the function alright." She paused before looking at her laptop screen," Pro hero Dynamight is already in the building, you should give him the equipment and see if it works properly."

Even tho, you were slightly peeved, cause of course it works, you just fixed it, you still took the hefty box to 12th floor of the building.

You entered the office without knocking, hands busy holding the box, barely even looking at the people standings there you deposit the box on the table next to the couch.

"Here, it's for Dynamight, fixed it, they should work top notch." You gasp out, breath slightly rapid due to carrying all that weight.

You turn around and spot 2 people in the room, one was Pro-Hero Red Riot, whom you recognised because he has least amount of support equipments listed and the other was Mr. Brick wall.

"You little shit, what are you doing here?" You blurt out without thinking, finger accusingly pointing at him. Not yet aware that the Pro-Hero you were looking for is right there, at the end of your accusatory finger.

Kirishima stared at you in amusement, before speaking," You must be the new tech, Welcome to the agency, I am Kirishima Eijirou." He stood up and extended his hand for a shake, you politely took his hand and uttered your name. Before looking over his shoulder at Bakugou.

"Don't mind me, but what did lil' shit over there do?" Kirishima semi-whispered in your ear, thumb pointing back, at where Bakugou stood.

"I spilled coffee on me, and then stared at me like it was my fault." You stated, arms folded, glaring at him, Bakugou stared back at you, hands shoved in his pocket as he leaned against the table.

"It was an accident, you scurried away before I could apologise." He finally spoke, Kirishima nodded his head, like accepting the explanation.

"NO, I waited and Mr. Brick Wall didn't apologise." You yelled, looking at Kirishima to back you up.

"That's not cool," Kirishima looked at you, shit eating grin on his face, you grinned back, feeling confident that Pro hero Red Riot was on your side, he continued,"You should apologise, Dynamight."

The gratification of getting the apology didn't last long when you registered his last word.

"Dyna-dynamight??" You spluttered," As in Pro Hero?" You looked dumbfounded between the two heros, face flushing in embarrassment, before you turned to Bakugou, who was looking at you bemused.

"I didn't kno- I am sorry, it was my fault." You uttered desperately, the fear of getting fired on your first day making you forget your past grudges. You haphazardness making Kirishima giggle, and Bakugou sigh.

"Oi, it was my fault, should have seen where I was going" Bakugou said calmly, moving to smack the back of Kirishima's head, who promptly shit up.

"You don't have t-." Bakugou shushes you before you could speak," The mistake was mine, me being a hero doesn't change that."

You stared at him, hoping for him to dismiss you soon, so you could sob in the corner of your big, beautiful lab.

"How about this, I get you a coffee, as an apology." He asked, Kirishima let out a snort, before Bakugou glared at him.

"You don't have to, it's not an issue anymore, Mr. Bri-Dynamight." You looked sheepishly at him, hoping he didn't change on the nickname you had given him.

"Let me, I'll get you a coffee, you'll need it after working here for a while."

"Fine then, we can get it sometimes." You accept his proposal (?),before looking at him, awkwardly trying to gesture at the door.

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows, watching you flare your arms towards the door, before Kirishima spoke," You can leave now, I am sure the gauntlets would work just fine."

At the dismissal you scurried out the door, running zig zag avoiding the few people present in the hallway.

"So, that's the 'fireworks' you were talking about, Mr. Brick wall." Kirishima queried, head resting against his palm, as a smug expression formed on his face.

"Don't fucking push it." Bakugou gritted out, trying to think of how he could fix his image in your eyes.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Brick wall." Kirishima chimed.

[obihoebikenobi-ficrecs]

Twenty Poolverine Fic Recs - #1

November 3rd, 2024

In not particular order, I'll be making a fic rec of 20 poolverine fics per week from now through the end of December to highlight some of my favorites. Please make sure you note the tags on ao3 before reading!

Completed Fics

Promise Me We’ll Be Back In Time - fanficbug, E, 108K

time loop, angst, getting together

I think the author says it best in their summary: "The one where Wade gets stuck in a time loop and decides to play 50 First Dates." This fic is a well-rounded masterpiece, and absolutely beautifully fleshes out this concept. This is easily one of the best fanfics I've read in years. Millions of kudos.

where soul meets body - Edgebug - E, 33.8K words

mind-sharing, hurt/comfort, getting together, mind sex

This is my absolute favorite finished poolverine longfic. It's set after the events of DPW and expands into the wildest, most perfectly deadpool-esque chain of events. This is a perfect fic, I beg of you to read it.

second nature to me now - Edgebug - E, 36.8K words

casefic, fake/pretend relationship, angst with a happy ending

As with all of edgbug's fics, this was absolutely phenomenal. I love the fake relationship trope, and this almost feels like an episode of psych with the humorous crime solving premise. Read it in one sitting and have read it twice since. Don't pass up on this one!

Dangling Like a Thread - CenturyUnited - T, 6.5K words

self-harm, mute Wade, non-graphic sex, emotion hurt/comfort

In this one, Wade loses his voice and learns how to communicate with Logan. Very sweet fic, love the characterizations of both Wade and Logan in this one.

It’s not me, it’s you. It’s more than I can chew. - sandiazucar - T, 6.1K words

hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, nightmares, Wade whump

Logan hurts Wade while having a nightmare and Wade has to take a break. Emotionally devastating in the best way possible.

like a dog with a bird at your door - midnightdragons - T, 2K words

domestic fluff, cuddling, chronic pain, hurt Logan

His adamantium bones make Logan cold in the winter and Wade helps him out. So perfectly sweet, I love this short little fic.

Not this time, peanut - peach_flavour - E, 6.3K words

insecure Logan, angst, alcohol abuse, emotionally repressed men

More angst guys, I can't help myself. This author characterizes them so well, I've read this several times.

happiness (like a bullet in the back) - handfulofteeth (s0norus) - E, 15.5K words

domestic fluff, chronic pain, bathing/washing, bottom Wade, top Logan, praise kink, dacryphilia

This 5+1 fic is soft and hot and good as fuck. Amazing writing and characterizations.

WIPS

Mr. Forgettable - Arwriter - M, 21.1K words, 4/? chapters

hurt/comfort, temporary amnesia, getting together

This fic is my absolute favorite WIP right now. Logan suffers a head injury and starts experiencing gaps in his memory and active memory loss. Absolutely delicious whump and great writing!

Don't Want To Be A Fool For You - HeavensAche - E, 45.5K words, 2/3 chapters

getting together, bartender Logan, panic attacks, PTSD

Logan works through living in a new timeline and his anger issues. Super well-written and a captivating read!

unhappy man syndrome - gossippool (fearandhatred) - no rating, 15.5K words, 4/8 chapters

Wade has chronic pain, hurt/comfort, nightmares, angst

This one is so angsty (for both Logan and Wade) and perfect. Please, please give it a read.

It's Just Chemistry - farmhandler - E, 23.8K words, 4/5 chapters

Logan and Wade whump, hurt/comfort, feral Logan, established relationship

Logan rejoins the X-men and their first mission goes wrong when Logan gets accidentally dosed with a toxin. Very whumpy and emotionally painful which is my absolute favorite. The author writes beautifully, and I adore the premise.

Hellraiser, Heartbreaker - prettyponyridetohell - E, 6.6K words, 2/6 chapters

jealous Logan (worst wolverine), references to X-men movies

Logan and Wade annnnd young cagefighter Logan appear in this fic. I suggest you just go and read it immediately, it's that fucking good.

SMUT/PWP

like the summer into rough hands - Edgebug - E, 3.1K words

claw/hand kink, coming untouched

Missionary’s Downfall - thewinkitty - E, 14.4K

sex pollen, trans Logan, breeding kink Hither, Hither, Love - phantasmagorical_rilianne - E, 4.5K words

light dom/sub, bottom Logan, angst, fluff and smut

The Urge (Is So Demanding) - sterlingstars - E, 4.2K

piss kink, established relationship, bottom Logan

Can't Sweat It Out - RatFlavored - E, 8.3K words

bottom Logan, service top Wade, rimming, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

black irises in the sunshine - handfulofteeth (s0norus) - E, 16.6K

bottom Logan, insecure Logan, panty sniffing, subspace, praise kink

guess - handfulofteeth (s0norus) - E, 16.2K words

Wade in panties, Logan has a praise kink, power bottom Wade, puppy play, blood kink

[evilminji]

OKAY, FIRST? Like the Picture Says...

So!

Here I was, sittin', thinkin', pondering my thoughts. Thing to myself? "How could one? Presumably female, much like myself, Jedi repopul-" and THAT is when my brain, worn and weary, from years of The Internet? SLAMMED its fucking pint down on the bar counter, turned to me with an ugly scowl and sneered?

"You KNOW fucking how. Don't be coy."

( O.O) w-well alright then, brain. Little aggressive. Kinda wondering where you got the knife. I... I'ma just... go... *pint glass is thrown after me, shattering on the door as it just barely misses*

So! Yeah. Birth, probably. But STILL! That's like? Still ONE(1) fuckin Jedi right? And even IF Mr. "I am literally half midi-chlorians by blood" sired two Force Sensitives on his first go? That's no guarantee EVERYONE does?

Unless..... >.> we are taking into account a Force Sensitive RACE. THEN? Oh, THEN? It's not a matter of IF, but HOW MUCH. Enough to hit that arbitrary cut off point? What if you don't care? What if you say "everybody can be a Jedi"? Want to TRUELY spread the Light. Not just to those who are STRONG enough... but to EVERYONE.

There are a few races like that! But! That STILL? Doesn't solve the Puzzle! The Problem! Of how could One(1) VERY determined Jedi lady, who? Presumably is pretty cool with motherhood. Rebuild The Jedi Order, by NOPING™ out before Order 66.

Again, presumably AFTER taking on the role of Creche Master. And AFTER taking all the youngling on a Super Fun Unplanned Don't Tell The Other Grown Ups Suprise Feild Trip~☆ (yaaaaay!)(who wants snacks! Everybody got their travel bags and buddies? Let's gooooo~☆!)

Cause like? Still need a stable population. And enough Jedi to *obscene gestures multiculturally* at the Sith.

My? Proposal? We turn to the Wisdom of the Monster Fuckers. (Wait wait WAIT! Don't leave! HEAR ME OUT!) I KNOW this sounds like a sex thing! Not a sex thing! It's a "Who said Humanoid Meant Live Birth? Were fucking Aliens, Bro" thing! Just because? Our SI-OC? Was reborn AS a vaguely human shaped sentient?

DOESNT MEAN SHE'S A MAMMAL.

That weird hair color could mark her as some WEIRD, man! Fuck, for all we know she could be a fungus! It's vaguely body horror! You get over it! Adapt to new biology!

Learn?? You lay CLUTCHS. Fuckin EGGS. All baby making is external after the first bit. Something, something, easier to defend against predators. SI-OC doesn't remember that part. There was this high pitched ringing in her head then a thump. She was on the floor. May have fainted. What're you, a cop?

They offer her weird alien birth control.

She takes the birth control.

Learns she is a Rare and Near Extinct Species, a la Master Mundi. Learns it's VERY detrimental to her health to lay clutches. Takes a lot of resources, she can't LEAVE it, so with out a partner or community (or sufficient hoard of food) she WILL starve to death. It HAS happened.

No, seriously, look Mafame Che in the eyes. It HAS happened. And no you CAN'T "push your impulses into the Force". It's a biological imperative. Your body physically won't LET you.

Exactly three options. Babies born, they die, or YOU DIE.

......little intense. Got it. Yes she would like that birth control. She will continue to be both average and forgettable. Pay no attention to the Jedi Creche Master In Training! Oh look! It's kenobi! *yeets fellow jedi under the speeder*

Take some.... research trips >.> <.< >.> which is of course totally not scouting out new Temple locations! To the Wild Zone. Mmmmm, no one for WEEKS by hyperdrive! It's so calm out here!

Only took, like, 278 different planets scouted! To find the right one.

*starts building dwellings.* *starts directing "too old" Force Sensitives or Families that want to stay together and are willing to move, towards the location.*

New secret Jedi planet? Whaaaaat? Nooooooo. That would be illegal. Jedi can't break RULES! Don't be silly. Oh? Is that Skywalker? *same Speeder, new jedi. YEET!*

But WAIT! The War Approachth! D:> upsetting. Better get ready to give that "we totally need to Hide The Babies For War Reasons" presentation she has prepared. But FIRST?

A clutch. Got a transport pod ready to go. Got food stockpiled. Got the birth control out. Now? Just need a male! Too uh... contribute.

.......look, she wants her legion of tiny jedi babies okay? They glow like STARS. Everything is BETTER with them around. And she's kinda come around to this whole... disgusting slime... goo... Thing™. Cause I mean? At LEAST it's not pushing one OUT! ( o7 Padme, you have her respect. But also you are a madwoman.)

The Healers, are of course, FROTHING at the mouth.

YOU DUMB MOTHER FUCKER. They hiss, like healing and very concerned paragons of needle weilding fury. Where the FUCK are you going to just? GET?? A male of you INCREDIBLY RARE AS FUCK Species? You damn near dead and no longer existent species??!? You have DELIBERATELY put yourself in EXTREME medical distress! For WHAT?! Did you HAVE a plan!?

Yeah. :3 I call it Pulling a Yoda's Linage *Yoda ears move from Concern, to Intrigued*

*click*

..........what was that. Jedi SI-OC, What Was That?? *comms start blowing up* What did you just DO?

Oh :3c simple. She asked. It's the only polite thing to DO after all. She DOES need assistance. Surely someone would be willing to offer. If they can. How? You may ask?? Why look so CONCERNED Councilors! She simply assumed, that? Since there is no way of KNOWING where in the Galaxy surviving members of her Race are? And time IS of the essence? She SHOULD reach as wide an audience as she can, as FAST as she can... RIGHT?

>:3c so, of course, she posted her request to the Holonet.

Video and all.

"Grettings, I am Jedi SI-OC. I am an [race] and currently a Creche Master here at the Jedi Temple of Coruscant. I require the assistance of a healthy, willing Male of my species, as I have laid a clutch. And wish to have it fertilized. I would like to have children. We would, of course, discuss co parenting the children before beginning. I have, attached, further details. Thank you for your time. May the Force be with you"

Sexiest shit a LOT of people for egg laying races have seen in years. Well... those with Very Specific Jedi Kinks. Of course, no one ADMITS to jedi kinks. But like... you've thought about it. Don't lie. Everyone's thought about it. It's them and the Mandalorians.*commiserating noises*

But like? The NEWS CYCLE.

Holy SHIT.

Yeah, yeah, tensions and possible succession from the Republic. Sith plots in the background. But? *new casters violently clear their planned segments for THIS* JEDI? Horny on main!? Is THIS ALLOWED? IS this horny? What race is that? C-can other people volunteer? And if so, who? We take to the streets! Sir, what's your opinion on-?

OUTTA MY WAY, I'MMA BANG A JEDI! *frenzied mob like behavior*

*temple guards, unnamused.* back! BACK! Horny jail! For ALL OF YOU!

Just?? It's? So, SO? Important to me? That their are Mandalorian [race] that show up. Because the need to repopulate their people is more important then *scrunch nose* Jedi(ew). That it becomes the Galaxy's hottest Bachelorette show. WHO? Amongst these Fine And Acomplished Men? Will the Jedi CHOOSE? To have babies with! They ask.

And, presumably, marry and learn the power of family and friendship and emotions and be HEALED by LOVE etc etc.

There are shipping charts. It's horrifying. The talk shows LOVE it.

Council? Day drinking. Except for Mundi. He's just like "....but did you HAVE to you they Holonet? It's so MESSY >:/ everyone's in our BUSINESS now." Cause he's not a hypocrite. Grumpy asshole? Absolutely. But not a hypocrite.

Just? The single most "....who?" Jedi ever. Causing the BIGGEST fuss. Right at the worst possible moment, for Sidious. Causing an explosion of glee and hope and laughter etc, all across the Galaxy. Good feeling towards the Jedi. EVERYBODY talking about them. There's gonna be HUNDREDS more!

If she does this AGAIN (in a decade. Madame Che was NOT joking on the stress it puts on the body) there could be thousands new Jedi over the coming years! (Probably why the Sith fuckin wiped them OUT, not that she thinks about it. Fuckers. Who's laughing NOW?! Huh? WHO LAUGHING NOW?!)

Again! Very, unspeakably Ace. Not a sex thing. I just think I'd be funny? That the Forces answer to The Evil Sith plan was... Babies™.

What are we? Fuckin YODA?

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @hypewinter @mayfay

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Inciting Incident

Inciting incident of a story - the event that sets the main character/s on the journey that will occupy them throughout the narrative.

Typically, this incident will upset the balance within the main character’s world.

In classic detective films like The Big Sleep, for example, the inciting incident is the detective being asked to take on a new case.

In moments big and small, an inciting incident changes the life of a character, and the ensuing story is the fallout from that change.

Tips for Using Inciting Incidents in Your Writing

A compelling inciting action can be the difference between a gripping story and a forgettable one. Here are 3 techniques to make sure you’re writing the most effective possible beginnings to your stories:

Keep to your timeline. To make your reader or viewing audience emotionally invested in an inciting incident, make sure it takes place during the timeline of the story you’re telling. When an inciting action is a past event that others make reference to, it lacks the visceral truth of an incident that the audience has experienced.

Let your inciting action stimulate something sustainable. Your inciting plot point should drive a character to behave a certain way throughout the narrative. Make sure that the driving force will be sustainable throughout the full course of your story. A detective driven to solve a complicated case will sustain throughout the story. A man bitter about not getting the last slice of pizza could potentially be funny, but it won’t sustain a particularly long story.

Make your inciting action cause a noticeable shift in your character. A compelling inciting action will make your character take actions she would not have otherwise. In The Fugitive TV series, Dr. Richard Kimble loses his wife to murder and, worse still is accused of that murder. These traumatic events change Kimble, and they launch him onto a quest so compelling that it sustained four full seasons of television.

An inciting incident exists to launch a story.

If Shakespeare had begun Romeo and Juliet somewhere in the midst of the young lovers’ courtship, the story might have been entertaining, but it would have lacked the emotional stakes created when the two protagonists first lay eyes on each other in the play’s inciting incident.

It inspires the protagonist’s central motivations throughout the story.

In Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, the protagonist Charles Marlow finds his motivation when he learns about a Mr. Kurtz, in the story’s inciting incident.

The story goes on to detail Marlow’s obsessive quest to find Kurtz, and the horror he encounters when he finally finds him.

Every event that follows within the timeline of the story achieves its significance insofar as it relates to Marlow’s inciting action.

Types of Inciting Actions in Literature

As a general rule, inciting actions fall into one of 3 categories.

Causal inciting actions. Inciting actions involving a deliberate choice made either by the protagonist or about the protagonist. This deliberate choice informs all story elements to come. An example of this is Luke Skywalker’s recruitment in the original Star Wars film from 1977. The inciting action is the first step in Luke taking the archetypal “hero’s journey,” as famously described by Joseph Campbell.

Coincidental inciting actions. Inciting actions stemming from random chance, coincidence, or a protagonist “being in the right place at the right time.” In C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia series, the children inadvertently stumble upon a magical land through a portal in the back of a wardrobe. This chance discovery leads to all subsequent actions in the story.

Ambiguous inciting actions. Inciting actions that occur under circumstances that are not fully explained. The audience is left to guess whether the protagonist is placed in her situation by choice or by chance. Such inciting actions are common in thrillers and mysteries like The Sixth Sense, and the true story is rarely revealed until the very end of the film.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[circadi1an]

// inspired by mr queen, cybertronian gn reader (but mentioned to be attracted to both genders), megatron x reader

tw for suicide (but its mostly interefered so nothin bad)

— I see your isekai to another world fics, and raise you a reader, whose a former mechanic / petriologist, transported into the world of transformers as a decepticon lackey. The war had just recently destroyed cybertron's life force, leaving only a dead world to inhabit the corpses among the streets. The nemesis is currently still recovering from the lack of medics on board / searching for a new location supplying energon.

— your previous host turns out to be someone who filled out that quota, unfortunate for you. you would've thought you be reincarnated into a forgettable casualty in the war, but noo it seems that everyone recognizes you, vividly you may say.

— actually, you won't forget to mention the elephant in the room. how could you overlook the last person on the list when he always reminded you of his existence every cycle when he visits your lab. the first time it happened was probably the day you found out if cybertronians can get an equivalent of a heart attack (sadly no, the spark isn't strong enough to penetrate through hard metal).

— whoever your previous body used to be seems to have a relationship with every mech in the ship – the frequent greetings from the group of vehicons passing by the hallway, the consistent mocking, with a pinch of manipulation, from the conniving second-in-command, and a surprising rare nod of acknowledgement coming from the silent brood that is the chief of communications whenever you two happened to meet one another.

— overall, your life here as a decepticon is quite comfortable. you would even say you've won the lucky lottery of not reincarnating into a... low ranking vehicon for example. but the truth is, you could honestly care less about all this bullshit. You've had a pretty good life before, working in a high paying job, hanging around with other (wo)men, drinking all day, all the good stuff really.

— So in your desperate attempt to return to your old body, you tried every method to offline yourself. Attempting to cut off your limb? You realize cybertronians can still reattach parts like they were mere toys. Jumping off to space and suffocating from the lack of air? You don't even have a nose, how the hell do you live without olfactory senses. Stabbing yourself in the stomach? Good luck trying, you wouldn't even be able to complete the job without a random vehicon appearing from the walls and jumping you from behind.

—One day you overheard a vehicon, who had just recently interfered with another one of your attempts, murmuring his woes of receiving the lord's ire for not thwarting your plan of early death much earlier. You didn't think of yourself to be that important of a person for Megatron himself to be concern of your life. Sure you're the medic / energon specialist, but in a war where millions of lives were lost as fast as a raging tide over the sand, were you really worth that much to be kept alive?

— It isn't until you had a confrontation with starscream that he had mockingly teased you, you were still kept alive only because you used to have a history together back in your old miner life. You laugh, chuckle even, at his face. There's no way. megatron, the megatron the ruthless leader of the decepticons, who had caused a million lifeless sparks, has a soft spot for you? When you realize the silence around you, every vehicon worker had stopped what they're doing. (wait when did soundwave arrive in the room.) their unspoken words only confirming the seeker's folly, of you and the warlord's past relationship and the seeming favoritism he has over you.

(You'll never mention the regular visits Megatron likes to do in his freetime, coming over to your lab and discussing of your current progress in your recent project. You'll also never mention how this 35 ft behemoth of boss who, for some reason, doesn't know what personal space mean and loves going in close proximity with you. You couldve sworn he either does it for the thrill of one upping over others.... or he just likes playing these games with you, specfically.)

.... perhaps overdosing on medicated energon is worth the shot.

[koiiiso]

Sweetpea.

Batfam/Murderous Reader

Warnings: Based on Rhiannon Lewis from Sweetpea, yayyy, Possible NSFW, and uhh, deaths? R is just wrong in the brain.

Just a silly prologue deal, might make a series, this is just a combination of stuff I like and in specific, I’m paraphrasing Sweetpea from what I can recall. RHIANNON IS AN ASS SO R WILL BE ONE TOO, SO HAH. This was also rushed as hell and is real short because I was bored so yay!!

╰┈➤ ˎˊ˗

People are really full of shit, you decided that long ago and it cannot be more present than now. They feed off of compliments, some competition, and others, real freaks, like to be degraded and left alone, fuckers like pain.

Sitting across from you was your personal group of PICT, ‘People I Can Tolerate’. You didn’t really like anyone but you didn’t want to be a complete loner. If you were one that meant more people would be suspicious of you and that couldn’t stand, you still have people in your closet hidden deep down there in their own seven pits of hell.

They were ‘work friends’, some annoying, others not as much. Wayne Enterprises had everything really, and most recently, a news area. The most annoying would be your personal boss. George White. It was a basic name for a basic man. He was plump and red when he was angry, like an apple maybe.

He was full of shit.

They all were.

You hated your job, ‘recent’ by company means was four years, and you’ve been there for that long. Four fucking years and that asshat barely lets you do jack. You wanted to write but he remained ultimately fixated on denying you that. You gritted your teeth, silently smiling and glaring at him while your aggression with the fork and knife against your food increased, subtly of course. You needed to control yourself.

You could imagine his death really. He would be silently walking, take a shortcut through an alleyway, and with his back turned you would throw yourself on his back and stab him, getting soaked in his blood as his red skin looses the color, fading to the paleness he never allowed to reign show. He was constantly pissed on and could only stop being so shitty when he joins the few you’ve already killed.

Whatever.

The only reason he was at the table with the ‘PICT’ is because he wants to stick his dick in the newest edition of the group, a younger intern, barely legal too. Maybe that’s enough of a reason to kill him. No one would really notice because it’s Gotham of all places. He could be labeled an anonymous victim and no one could say otherwise.

He wasn’t important, he was forgettable and replaceable, you’ll have your chance later.

The dinner was a company one, all sections of Wayne Enterprises gathered one day a year for whatever shitty announcements were to arrive. You couldn’t really care, you hated your job, but it had some of the best benefits for your experience and degree.

You wanted a raise, yet you can’t ask for one or else you’ll never get one. People were weird about that. You were like an assistant to everyone in your section, nothing more than a face to demand things of and look pretty.

You were also technically the receptionist so when people came in to yell and whine and moan about the news and portrayal, you were the first face to be screamed at. It helped you more with containing your emotions though. It was that sheer training that kept you from killing the red, fat faced, Mr White.

The announcements came and went, Mr Wayne shifted the control of his company to his nepo baby of the hour, Tim Drake. Apparently your department is gonna be expanding due to positive reception and blah blah blah, all that. Apparently it was so well that George got a fucking raise and he didn’t even deserve it.

It was finally over, yet rain came and you’re back in that jacket. It was black and heavy, a raincoat in the sense it shielded you, and it also kept your identity safe. It was perfect.

Footsteps in front of you mixed with puddles, and Mr White takes a turn to that alleyway. You followed him, the pocket knife it ins rightful place of your hands seemed to boil. You could get away with it.

You slow your steps and approach, waiting and waiting until he goes to a halt at the dead end the alley, and you take your chance.

You push your weight upon him, knife going to his neck and pushing through the chubby skin, reached deeper and deeper until your remove it, your right hand fitted over his mouth. He screamed and kicked and bit, and despite your own stature, you succeeded.

His corpse laid down, now beneath you. You silently move him into the heavy duty trash cans with some strain. You can’t wait to get home, to Tink and all of your collectibles.

You finish the job, the rain washing away your mess. You wrap your jacket around your waist next. Blood stains are a commodity yet you won’t take any chances.

You left the alley, unaware of the eyes that watched you, curious and demeaning.

[cr3stawrites]

Whiskey Sunrise

Billy Dunne x Fem!Reader — Part of the Firecracker Universe, but can be read separately <33

"billy dunne wants something, or someone, but either way, he's determined to get it, even with a whiskey sunrise."

1464 words 

warnings: underage drinking (firecracker is 20ish in this), fluff, might be suggestive at the end (allusions to sex near the end if warren wasn't a cockblock LOL), the classic 70s type shit, billy dunne and he’s desperate — run.

mwah i love writing fics now i feel like i might end up cranking them out

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

When Firecracker first came into town, Billy Dunne was desperate to have a taste of her. But whether he liked it or not, he had a big brother to go through before he even got a whiff of the firecracker he was so desperately wanting.

Yet, the handful of times that Billy was able to get her alone, he was confident that she was attracted to him. She hasn’t pushed him away or shut him down — so that was definitely a good thing to note.

And while it had only been just three days since she had come into town, it was safe to say Billy hadn’t made any progress on trying to woo Warren’s little sister. But that’s not without a lack of trying.

Billy had been trying, don’t get him wrong. He’s been trying, but Warren was always there, which made it hard. But she had seemed receptive to his flirtations, it was just her damn brother that made it hard.

But there was one thing that he could try, and it just had to work. And Billy was going to make sure that tonight would be the night he got a taste of the firecracker that he wanted.

“You want us to go out tonight?” She chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Billy at the table. She put out her cigarette, putting it in the ashtray as if it had done its duty for now.

It was just evening, and somehow, the kitchen was completely empty, which also meant that there was no Warren to police their actions.

“Yeah,” Billy said, a smile on his face that could definitely be classed as a flirty smile. “Just us, no annoying brother, no band…just us.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, Dunne.” She said, letting out a low chuckle. “I’m not sure that Warren would like that.”

“And that’s why your brother doesn’t have to know.” Billy retorted, keeping his flirty grin. “Just you and me, pretty girl.”

She went silent for a few moments, as if mulling it over before speaking up again, a smile on her face.

“Okay, be ready in ten, Dunne.” She said, getting up from her chair and going towards Warren’s room.

And Billy made sure he was watching her every move as she left, surely going to get ready. Billy was so sure that she was getting ready for him, and only him.

By the way that she smiled at him, by the way that she walked, everything she did. Surely, it had to be just for him. And Billy Dunne loved that.

And he made sure that she knew that he was watching. And that this night would be would be one that wouldn’t be forgettable. Almost like a whiskey sunrise drink at Whisky Go-Go.

That might just be the one drink that he’d convince her to try for the L.A. experience she seemed to crave while she was here.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Billy couldn’t help but chuckle as she made a joke before ordering another round of one of her now favorite drinks, a whiskey sunrise while ordering another beer for himself.

She smiled as she took the drink, her wrap top fitting her body just perfectly, and matched with the bell bottoms she had decided to wear. It was like she was already a part of the crowd, and Billy loved it.

She was perfect.

And she had to be his, desperately.

“You were right about this drink, Billy.” She said, chuckling as she took another sip. “It’s really good, truly.”

“Ah, now you call me by my first name?” Billy retorted, playfully raising an eyebrow at her.

Billy leaned in slightly, his smile growing as she seemed to turn red at what he was doing, and how obvious he was about his attraction to her. “I like my name coming out of your mouth, pretty girl.”

As soon as he said that, she turned even redder and seemed to stutter. As a girl who was confident in herself most of the time, Billy appeared to actually break down that barrier. Perhaps it was the alcohol that was getting to her at the end, to let her walls down around him fully.

And she definitely seemed receptive to his flirting. So that told Billy that he could go further, and that’s exactly what he did.

“Y’know…” Billy muttered, leaning in further to her, even going as far as moving a hand up to touch hers, which made her shudder. 

Billy grinned.

“It’s been a bit, I think everyone might be in bed back at the house…we can just…head back if you want?” Billy suggested, flashing another flirty grin.

She paused as if realizing what Billy’s offer really was — it was basically an offer to sleep with him. And if she was being honest…that sounded like a great way to end the night. 

That or she was just drunk.

So, she grabbed his hand back and even intertwined their fingers. With that, she felt like it was a sort of rope pulling them together, telling her that she had found her yang that so perfectly matched with her yin.

As if Yin and Yang had found their match at long last. Their eyes met, and she didn’t know how he felt, but she felt…complete, in a way.

Yin and Yang, like a firecracker that had met her match to light her up, like a lilypad being found by their frog, by a tree being planted into the soil at long last...

“Let’s get out of here.” She whispered, her smile growing as he nodded with his own smile. 

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

When she woke up the next morning, she had totally forgotten that instead of her brother’s bed, she was only to instead be in Billy Dunne’s bed of all beds. She fluttered her eyes open, and she sighed as she looked around.

The room was sparsely decorated, a few posters of some rock bands but not much, a vinyl record player in the corner…and that was about it.

She looked over to see herself in pajamas, or rather, a large loosely fitted shirt that was really meant to be on a man. But for some reason, it felt rather comfortable.

After a few minutes of taking a moment to recollect last night’s events, she moved slightly to see Billy sleeping soundly, a few marks on his neck. Well…at least she wasn’t the only one who had marks all over her.

Her eyes met the record player, and she couldn’t help herself but crawl out of bed and then walk towards his record player. Within a few seconds, she began looking through the few vinyls that Billy seemed to have, and she smiled as she found one of her favorite vinyls. It was Bob Dylan vinyl, and she couldn’t help but take it out.

It might’ve woken up Billy, but she couldn’t help herself, and she put the record on the turntable, and slowly, she turned the volume down as she carefully placed the needle down. Immediately, the music began to play, and she smiled.

As she stood there for a few moments, enjoying the music, she didn’t seem to notice a rustle of the bed, and she simply just enjoyed the music. But then, she jumped as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her.

“Morning..” Billy muttered, gently pressing a kiss against her neck, making her slightly shiver. “I see you already made yourself at home.”

“Well, I mean..” She tried, trying to string a sentence to explain earlier, but all Billy did was reach around the needle of the record player and adjust it.

Just then, Mr. Tambourine Man had begun, and her smile grew as Billy’s hand went back to her waist.

“Warren told me this was your favorite song, is it?” He mused, seeing her smile at the sound of the lyrics beginning.

“Of course, he did.” She chuckled, gently turning herself around with a more loving smile. “It is…and I really enjoyed last night.”

“You did?” Billy asked, looking slightly surprised, and she hummed before nodding.

But before she could reaffirm that she did, in fact, enjoy last night, Billy’s lips were on hers, and she let out another hum as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It wasn’t long until Billy’s hand was gently sliding down the shirt that was most definitely his, and revealing her shoulder, and she seemed all for it.

“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to—”

“What, the actual, fuck?!” Warren shouted, putting an almost immediate end to what was surely about to happen. What a mood killer.

But now, Billy didn’t seem to want to let her go. And she didn’t want him to let her go either.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

[hyucksos]

1 to 10 — kang younghyun

pairing: kang younghyun x f!reader genre: arranged marriage, (one-sided) enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, romance wc: 12.6k synopsis: marriage was never part of your plan— especially not to brian kang, a man as composed and unreadable as he is infuriating. used to calling the shots in your own life, you struggle to adapt to sharing a home, a name, and a future with someone the complete opposite of you. but as bickering turns into something dangerously close to understanding, you realise there’s one thing you hadn’t accounted for in this arrangement: falling for the husband you never wanted in the first place. (read the alt. ver. here)

You should have known your parents had an agenda the day you were introduced to Kang Younghyun and his family.

You had brushed it off as just that; exchanging pleasantries at galas were second nature to you, and just like the countless other families you had been introduced to that evening, you knew that the Kangs would be nothing more than another name in a long, forgettable list.

Even when you were handed his card, the words Brian Kang, Vice-Chairman embossed on matte cardstock, you had thought nothing of it, the small, unassuming rectangle quickly making home in your purse where you would eventually forget about it for months.

And forget about it, you do, until tonight, almost a year after you first met Younghyun— or rather, Brian. You weren’t sure how to address him seeing as you never really had an actual reason to do so, so you settle for a tight-lipped smile as both his and your parents engage in conversation. You get a polite, dimpled one in return.

It is only when both of your families are settled in your seats, waiting for your first course to be served do you hear his voice for the first time that night. It’s the same as you last remember it— soft, gentle, and far too measured, as if every word is carefully curated to be agreeable.

And that’s when you remember why you hate Brian Kang.

Because no one is ever truly that nice— especially not people like you. The wealthy don’t do kindness without motive, and people only often act that way when they want something— your approval, a favour, or, God forbid, your hand in marriage.

And just as you take a sip of your wine, your mother clears her throat.

“It’s a wonder how Younghyun is stil single at his age, isn’t it?”

The comment is offhanded, but it still sends a wave of uneasiness down your spine. You know how your mother is— she’s the reason why you’re so wary of people like Brian to begin with. Because everything you assume about him? She’s already proven herself true.

Mr. Kang hums in agreement. “A man like him— steady, responsible. Any girl would be lucky to have him.”

The old man glances at you as he utters the last few words, and your grip tightens around your glass. Whatever it is that’s about to come next, you know you’re not going to like it.

“That’s why we’ve been thinking…” Now, it’s your father’s turn to speak. “It’s time you start considering a more suitable future for yourself. We’ve talked it over, and we believe Younghyun is the right match for you.”

A beat of silence passes by, as though everybody is waiting for you to react first. You even feel Brian’s steady gaze on you, and that’s when you realise— he knew. That asshole knew.

You don’t stop the chuckle that escapes your lips before it escalates into full-blown laughter, and if not for the tears in your eyes, you would’ve caught the awkward glances being exchanged across the table.

“Honey-“

“You-“ your voice comes off as hoarse. “You want me to marry him?”

“It’s a good match.” Your mother takes a bite of her steak, completely unfazed and completely dismissive of your slow descend into insanity.

“For who? For me? Or for your business connections?” You snap.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” your father cuts in, unimpressed.

You scoff, turning to him. “I’m dramatic? You’re literally selling me off in the middle of dinner and I’m dramatic?”

Your mother sighs, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “Sweetheart, let’s be honest. You were never going to make a sensible choice on your own. We’re doing you a favour.”

Your stomach twists. You know what she’s hinting at. “Excuse me?”

“You’re wasting your time on a boy who barely has enough to pay for his own dinner, let alone yours. How do you expect us to trust your judgement?”

Of course. Of course, they’d bring up Wooshik. Your parents never took a liking to your boyfriend since you introduced him to them two years ago, and while that was an issue you’ve been putting off for a while now, always convincing yourself you’d cross that bridge when you got to it, you just never expected for it to catch up to you so soon.

Then again, you should have known. Your parents always play the long game.

You shake your head, your chair screeching against the marble tiles as you stand up. “You know what? I’m done.” You spare Brian a glare as you do so, the man infuriatingly calm as he watches the entire ordeal unfold ike he’s in a board meeting.

Oh, you hate him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Your father calls out to you, his voice sharp.

You don’t bother to reply as your storm out of the dining hall, hailing down the first cab you see the moment you exit the country club. There’s only one person you want to see right now, one person who could make sense of this insanity. The one person who, despite what your parents think, chose you for you.

You arrive at Wooshik’s apartment in twelve minutes, your knuckles rapping loudly on his door. In hindsight, you should have given him a call first, knowing that he’s probably already asleep at this time, but in your frazzled state it seems that all sense has left you completely.

The door finally swings open after what feels like forever, but you’re met with someone who isn’t your boyfriend.

“Yes?” The girl greets you with an unimpressed stare. For a moment, you think you’re at the wrong apartment, until your gaze flickers to the number plate above the doorbell. Not that you even needed to; you’ve been here probably a thousand times. There’s no way you’d mistake your own boyfriend’s place, no matter how distressed.

And for the second time that night, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, only for it to shred itself into little pieces when Wooshik appears, shirtless, eyes widening when they land on you.

“Baby-“

“Who is this?” You ask lowly, shakily, because even despite everything, you still have an inkling of hope that maybe, this is all just a huge misunderstanding. There’s no way that Kim Wooshik, your boyfriend of four whole years, would cheat on you, right?

But he only stays silent, and that was all you needed to hear.

Your heart pounds in your ribs, each beat louder than the last, but Wooshik still says nothing. He doesn’t deny it, doesn’t push past the girl in his doorway to get to you. He just… stands there.

And that’s when you realise— he’s not speechless because he’s guilty. He’s speechless because he doesn’t care.

“Oh, wow,” the girl hums, arms crossing over her chest as her eyes twinkles in amusement. “Took you this long to figure it out, huh?”

You turn to her slowly, fists clenched at your sides. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, c’mon,” she pauses to laugh, gesturing lazily to your boyfriend— if you could even call him that. “Look at him! What other reason could there be for someone like him to go for someone like you?” 

When you don’t answer, she raises her hands, rubbing her middle finger against her thumb. As though you needed a reminder— tonight, of all nights— the only thing people truly cared about.

Money.

And it was a good thing you had loads of those too, because being broke sure as hell wouldn’t be able to get you out of what you did next.

You punched her.

You don’t register it until it happens, the loud crack that echoes in the hallway— your knuckles, her nose, you’re not entirely sure which. One thing for sure, you’re seeing red.

She stumbles back with a shriek, but you’re already turning to Wooshik.

“You bastard.”

Your fist collides with his jaw before he could even stammer out an excuse, and his back hits the door behind him upon impact.

“Are you insane?!” He yells, cupping his bruising cheek as he pants.

Maybe. But right now, you don’t care. Even when you feel the stinging of your scalp as the girl fists your hair and yanks you backwards, you recover fast, and you think it’s the pent-up rage from before that spurs you to continue, disregarding your broken nails as you claw blindly and ignoring the contents of your clutch spilling onto the floor as you use it as a makeshift weapon.

“Stop! Stop it- people are looking!“ Wooshik hisses as he grabs you from behind, pulling you away from his mistress. You yank yourself free, whipping your neck to look at him.

“Oh, now you want to care what people think?” You laugh sharply, ignoring the curious eyes of his neighbours as they watch through the cracks of their half-open doors.

Before he could reply, you’re interrupted by the sound of sirens.

Loud. Distinct. And definitely getting closer.

And as the red and blue lights spill through the corridors, it finally registers.

You’re screwed.

The police station is desolate at this time of night, and if it weren’t for the position you were in, you could even say that it’s peaceful.

You’re seated across an officer— Officer Jung, as the placard on his table suggests— who’s flipping through his notes.

“So, wanna tell us what happened?”

You don’t answer, exhaling sharply through your nose— this wasn’t how you imagined your night to end.

“Seeing as there are no serious injuries, we could let you off with a warning and fine. But, if Mr. Kim and Ms. Shin decide to press charges, well, you might have to deal with a court date at a later time. If you tell us what happened, we could help you— make things easier, at least.”

You scoff humourlessly as you keep your gaze on your lap— your bloodied fingers fiddling with your clutch you miraculously still have with you. It’s bent out of shape and not even able to lock properly anymore, leaving you to notice that some of your items are probably still left on the floor outside Wooshik’s apartment.

And then, you notice it— a familiar sleek, black card, hidden away in a tiny pocket on the wall of your purse.

You haven’t used this bag in a while— it’s been almost a year, you believe, but you instantly know to whom that card belongs.

You look at Officer Jung. “I want to make a phone call.”

He looks taken aback at your sudden request, but quickly recovers. “You’ll get your phone call, but talking now could make things easier for you, if you’d just cooperate, Miss.”

You don’t reply, and the officer sighs.

“Fine. One call.”

He pushes the telephone on his table towards you, and you pick up the receiver while you take out the namecard with your other hand. The phone rings thrice before he picks up.

“Brian Kang speaking.”

“I need you to come pick me up.”

A pause.

“Where are you?”

“Gangnam Police Station.”

Thirty minutes later, you hear his voice again, this time in person. Brian is speaking to the officer at the front desk before he’s handed something to sign, and soon he’s directed to where you’re seated at the waiting area.

You turn away, suddenly feeling conscious of your appearance. You’re sure your mascara is smudged and your hair is a hot mess, and while you really couldn’t care less of what anybody thinks of you— much less Brian— you figure there’s only so much humiliation you could take in one night.

“Ready to go?”

You peer at him through your eyelashes, the man only looking back at you patiently like you’re not at a police station and he isn’t here to bail you out. Brian Kang, with his hair styled to perfection and his black tie still in a neat Windsor knot despite it being close to midnight. The only indication that he’s even been through a day is his blazer being unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but even then, he still manages to look presentable.

Oh, how infuriating. You hate him.

You don’t say anything, standing up and smoothing out your dress in the process. Not like it did much, whatsoever.

“Oh, wow. And who’s this?” A voice sounds from the other side of the room, and you turn to see that it’s Wooshik, a lazy smirk on his lips despite the bruise blooming on his jaw. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s been unfaithful, huh?”

Your blood boils. “You-“

You want to lunge towards him, but a firm grip around your wrist yanks you backwards, and you feel Brian’s chest against your back as he holds you firmly.

“No.” His voice is calm but absolute, his grip tightening when you struggle. “Not here.”

“Let me go,” you seethe, but Brian doesn’t budge.

“And what?” He answers smoothly, tilting his head towards the officers who are watching you intently. “Get yourself in more trouble?”

Wooshik snickers. “You hear that, babe? Keep proving to everyone what a slu-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Brian cuts in, his tone so sharp that Wooshik actually shuts up.

You take the opportunity to yank yourself free, and giving Wooshik one final glare, you march out of the station.

Brian is close behind you, as you could tell from the sound of his footsteps, and when you stop, he stands right beside you.

“Brian,” you utter without looking at him, keeping your gaze trained on the almost-empty parking lots in front of you. Your fist your hands tightly, unsure if the pain you feel is from your injuries or from the utter betrayal you’ve received from everyone tonight. “Let’s get married.”

He chuckles softly. “You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.”

You clench your jaw as you turn to him, just in time for him to meet your gaze. There’s a twinkle of something in his eyes— mirth. Amusement. Almost as if he’s teasing you, and you hate that.

“You don’t think I’m serious?”

“I think you’re angry,” he corrects, now turning to face you fully. He places his hands in his pockets, casually, like you’re not on the brink of lashing out and him not on the receiving end. “And people say all sorts of things when they’re angry.”

You can’t help but to let out a humourless scoff at his tone. You’d think that he’d drop his fake-nice act now that it’s just the two of you, but if anything, it’s even more infuriating. Who the hell does he think he is, talking to you like you’re a child— like he’s trying to gentle parent you, at that? Even your own parents don’t do that!

“I don’t like you,” you say bluntly, earning a raised brow from Brian. “But right now, I think I hate my life even more. So, really— marrying you doesn’t even sound like the worst idea.”

Brian exhales a quiet laugh as he shakes his head. “You’re doing this out of spite.”

You jut your chin towards him. “Oh, what, so now you’re a mind reader?”

“No,” he quips as he lowers his head to meet your eye level, and his lips stretch out into a wide grin. “I just know you’d rather set yourself on fire than to admit defeat and let your parents say ‘I told you so’.”

You grit your teeth. “Go to hell.”

He chuckles. “Tempting, but I think I’ll stick around for a while.” Brian straightens up, finally giving you space to breathe as he adjusts his cuffs, acting like he’s having the most normal conversation in the world. “So, rings?”

You frown. “What?”

“For the wedding?” He adds, tilting his head. “Unless you’d rather wing it and let your mum pick them out?”

You roll your eyes wordlessly before shoving past him, the sound of his mocking laughter trailing behind you. You don’t even know where his car is, but you keep walking anyway, desperate to put some distance between you and that insufferable smirk.

Just what the hell did you get yourself into?

Your wedding with Brian was nothing short of excessive extravagance, as is the rock that now sits on your finger. As stunning as it is, a three-carat diamond ring with a pear cut and matching silver band that fits perfectly, it’s a reminder of your legal bind to the man, whom, even over the last couple of months, you found yourself to still despise.

It isn’t easy to live with someone like Brian when he’s the direct opposite of you. Precise, methodical, and annoyingly put-together— that’s him, and he’s everything you’re not. While you struggled to remember in which box you packed your toiletries prior to the move, he was already done with colour-coding his sock drawer. As you were cursing yourself for dropping one of your favourite scented candles, he was quick to appear beside you with a broom and dustpan, and by the time you were done being dramatic, there were no more glass shards for you to accidentally step on.

The only upside that came with your marriage was the fact that you’d never have to deal with your parents’ suffocating expectations again, even if it meant having to coexist with Brian and all his… Brian-ness.

There were no I-told-you-sos, (because you never bothered to disclose the ending of your relationship with your ex-boyfriend), no condescending lectures, just quiet, satisfied approval, because you had done exactly what they wanted— married a man they approved of, and moved into a life that was deemed respectable. In return, that got you out of a house you never really got to call home to begin with, and for a while, that was enough, until you realised that sharing a roof with Brian came with its own set of problems— like the way he insists on organising the kitchen cabinets like it’s a damn grocery aisle.

“That doesn’t go there.”

You glance over your shoulder to see Brian leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed as he watches you place a mug in the cabinet.

You arch a brow. “It’s a cabinet. For mugs. Where else should it go?”

He exhales before nodding to somewhere beside you. “Top shelf. Left side. Next to the tall glasses.”

You scoff, turning to face him fully with the mug still in your hand. “Seriously, Brian, do you hear yourself when you speak? It’s a cup. A cup. Who cares where it goes? Are you running a five-star restaurant in here? Are the housekeepers going to judge my mug placement skills? Does the fate of the world depend on whether or not my mug sits next to your stupid tall glasses-“

In the midst of your rant, you don’t even even notice him stepping forward, plucking the mug out of your hands before placing it exactly where he wants it without so much as a word.

“There. Problem solved.” He dusts off his hands before looking down at you. “Also, it’s Younghyun. I told you, Brian is for business. I’m your husband.”

“And our marriage is purely transactional. I’ll call you whatever I want,” you bite back.

“Hm, fair. Should I start calling you sweetheart, then?”

You know he’s trying to rile you up on purpose, and oh, boy, is it working.

You glower. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He merely smiles— that infuriating, knowing smile— and you know he’s noticed the way your cheeks burn in anger. But, being the asshole that he is, he chooses not to say anything.

And somehow, that only makes it worse.

“Sweetheart, could you pass me the salt?”

Your fingers stiffen around your utensils as you slowly turn to him with a glare, Brian not even looking at you as he continues to cut his steak, like nothing ever happened. Like that damn word didn’t just escape his lips; like he’s been saying it for years instead of just now, in front of both of your families.

He only looks up when he realises your silence, and even has the audacity to raise his brows as though to ask: what’s wrong?

You grit your teeth.

“Oh, I absolutely adore what you’ve done with the house! You know, with a space this big, there’s only one way to truly make it feel like home.” Brian’s grandmother beams from across the table.

You don’t like where this is going, but Brian, the ever-perfect grandson, humours her. “And what would that be, Grandma?”

Grandma Kang claps her hands, grinning in a way that reminds you of Brian when he’s teasing you. Now you know where he got it from.

“Filling it with little feet, of course! A house this grand shouldn’t be put to waste— imagine how wonderful it would be to hear children running through these halls.”

Even though you saw it coming, you still find yourself choking on your food as her words hit you before you could process it.

You grasp for your water, but before you could, Brian beats you to it as he slides his own glass towards you, his fingers brushing yours as he does so.

“Careful, darling,” he says, his hand coming up to pat your back. You barely get to register the warmth in both his touch and his voice before it leaves you completely, and he’s back to sipping on his wine by the time you turn to him.

Like nothing ever happened.

“We’re still young, Grandma.” Brian returns to the conversation with an easy smile. “What’s the rush?”

“Yes, but I’m not getting any younger, son,” Grandma Kang hums disapprovingly. “I do want to see at least one of my great-grandchildren before I die. You two haven’t even gone on a honeymoon yet! That won’t do— newlyweds should take time to celebrate.”

“Don’t say that,” Brian chides gently. “You’ll be around to spoil a whole football team’s worth of great-grandkids.”

You kick his shin from under the table, to which Brian doesn’t react— of course he doesn’t.

“I hope you don’t feel like I’m pressuring you, dear.” She turns to you. “It’s just that, I want to see the both of you happy and settled while I can.”

You settle with an awkward smile, though you’re sure it comes off as more of a grimace.

Out of everybody in this room, the old lady seems to be the only one who doesn’t make you feel like you’re under a microscope. She’s warm, affectionate, and genuinely delighted to have you in the family, which is why you can’t find it in you to tell her the truth— that you’re not in love with her grandson, and you don’t think you ever will be.

“But, speaking of honeymoons.” Brian swallows his food. “I do have a work trip coming up. Maybe we could make something out of it. What do you think, love?” He turns to you with a boyish grin, and you swear, if you hear another one of his stupid nicknames leave his mouth, you might just combust.

In anger, of course.

You frown. “A work trip is not a honeymoon.”

“It is if we say it is.” He shrugs, nonchalant. “Especially if it’s in the city of love.”

“Ooh, Paris!” This time, your mother gushes. With the way both Brian’s parents and yours have been quiet throughout the entire duration of dinner, you’d almost forgotten that they were there to begin with. Of course, your mother wouldn’t be your mother if she has to stay silent for very long, and the moment her sharp eyes meet yours, you know that the decision is already made for you.

You’re going to Paris.

You haven’t had a good sleep in days.

With the new project at work and your trip coming up, your schedule is packed, and with the endless emails and phone calls that don’t seem to stop, you’re not given the time to breathe, let alone rest.

It’s nearing midnight, and you find yourself still in the living room, the chandelier dimmed and your only source of light as it accompanies you while you finish up your report. You’ve been at it for hours, and your eyes are starting to blur from the screen, but you force yourself to push through.

You barely even hear the sound of footsteps until Brian stops next to the television, leaning against the wall as he watches you.

“You’re still working?” He asks, his tone quiet and laced with something you can’t really put a finger on. A part of you has a hunch, but you don’t want to acknowledge it.

“Yeah. I just gotta finish this before we leave. I’ll be fine,” you mutter distractedly, not even bothering to spare him a glance.

Brian doesn’t say anything as he continues to watch you, and you continue typing, hoping he gets the hint and leaves you alone.

“You need to take a break,” he finally says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“What I need is to finish this report, Brian.” You finally look up to give him a glare, and you’re surprised to see that for once, he’s being serious, devoid of the usual teasing shit-eating grin he always wears. Still, you don’t waver. “You’re not exactly helping by being here.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. You need a break,” he repeats, his tone more firm this time. Still, there’s no real anger in it, only concern, and that’s the one thing you’ve been trying not to acknowledge. Your chest starts to twist uncomfortably, unfamiliar with this side of him.

You roll your eyes wordlessly, knowing starting an argument with him would only take up your time, and that’s the one thing you don’t have enough of right now.

You hear Brian sigh before he steps towards you, gently taking the laptop off your lap before placing it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Seriously-“ you scoff before getting to your feet, heart thumping erratically as your frustration finally bubbles over. “What’s it to you? Why do you keep acting like I’m helpless?” You snap. “I can handle this! I don’t need you to tell me what to do every five minutes!”

Brian doesn’t flinch. “I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what’s good for you. And what’s good for you right now is to take a damn break.” Despite the tick of his jaw, his voice is calm, too calm. “You’re not fine,” he continues, a quiet challenge in his voice. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

That is what makes you crack.

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the exhaustion, mixed with anger— hell, it’s probably all the emotions you’ve been suppressing since you got cheated on and then getting married the following month— because the next thing you know, you’re crying uncontrollably with no signs of stopping.

You drop to the sofa, burying your face in your hands as you sob, your shoulders trembling with the weight of it all. You don’t even want to look at Brian; the last thing you need is his sympathy.

“Just go,” you croak, voice muffled behind your hands. “I’m fine. I’m just tired, okay?”

Brian doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, you think he actually left, until you feel him kneel down in front of you, gently prying your hands off your face.

For some reason, you let him.

He brings his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he wipes your tears. You shake your head to get him to stop, embarrassed, but he doesn’t move away, only holding you firmer.

“You’re not fine,” he murmurs, his voice a lot quieter now, but his tone is one you haven’t heard before. Soft. Almost tender. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to do this alone. Not as long as I’m here.”

His words catch you off-guard. You hadn’t realised just how much you needed to hear that, too used to carrying everything yourself, always being the strong one, so hearing Brian say that feels like a lifeline.

The fact that he’s actually there, not telling you to fix it or get over it, but simply… acknowledging it, makes everything feel a little less impossible, especially after he says:

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You sniff before looking away. “You’re so annoying,” you mumble, taking his hands to remove them from your face, but you don’t let go as you let them rest on your lap.

Neither does he.

“You bring this up tomorrow, and I’ll kill you.”

Brian laughs, his eyes crinkling as he does so, and somehow, the sight doesn’t annoy you as much as you know it should.

“You’re joking,” you deadpan, fingers resting loosely on your luggage handle as you stare at the room before you. You turn to Brian. “One bed? Why the hell would you book a suite with a single bed?!”

“Grandma wanted to gift us. I couldn’t say no,” he utters with absolute indifference, like you’re both not standing before a king size bed with flower petals scattered all over it in the shape of a giant heart. The sight makes you shudder.

“It’s fine. I’ll just take the couch.”

“You better,” you murmur, too tired to deal with his nonchalance today. You had just gotten out of a fifteen hour flight— like that wasn’t already terrible enough. The fact that it was Brian Kang that you flew with made it all the more agonising.

He was the type of person who insisted on arriving at the airport way before necessary— which, in your case, meant that the three hours you thought you had to pack your luggage were cramped into a single, stress-filled one.

It didn’t help that Brian had a lot to say about your lack of preparation, chastising you for not packing earlier, which of course, then naturally spiralled into an argument that lasted twenty minutes (though, it was more of you yelling while he remained infuriatingly composed).

By the time you were good to go, you’re exhausted, out of breath, and completely over it. Meanwhile, Brian loaded both your luggages into the car with effortless ease like it was nothing.

Like the responsible adult he was, he had checked in for the both of you on time, and even went as far as to listen to the safety instructions in the plane intently like he was in a lecture. At that point, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he were to whip out a notepad and pen to jot down notes.

He was completely insufferable.

And now that you’re finally in Paris, some distance from Brian would do you good, you think— except, of course, he has plans.

While all you want is to sink into the ridiculously plush hotel bed and knock out for a few hours, Brian is already chattering on about his itinerary like he’s pitching a business proposal. Truthfully, you could barely even make out the places he’s listing with how lethargic you are, and he only stops when he realises you’re being weirdly unresponsive.

You’re fast asleep.

Younghyun scoffs to himself as he stares at the slow rise and fall of your back, your body curled up under the covers as you snore softly. Usually, he’d have something to say about how you shouldn’t be lying on the bed without changing out of your outside clothes first, about how you never listen to him when he tells you to get enough rest, maybe even tease you about how you always insist you won’t fall asleep right away, only for you to be knocked out cold the moment your head hits the pillow.

But for once, he lets it go.

Because despite how much you get on his nerves, and no matter how stubborn you are, he knows you’re exhausted. And maybe, he doesn’t mind giving in to you this time.

With a soft sigh, he gets up from the sofa and grabs his coat, making sure not to wake you up as he closes the door behind him softly. If you won’t take care of yourself, then he’d just have to do it for you. And if you’re too stubborn to go out to eat— well, maybe bringing something back would make it easier.

✦ ✦ ✦

By the time you stir awake, it’s dark, and you realise that you’re alone. You wonder if Brian actually did up and leave to go on that walk along the Seine he had been talking about earlier, and for a split second, you feel guilty. You quickly snap out of it, jolting up in the process.

“Am I going insane?” You laugh humourlessly to yourself, running a hand through your tangled hair. “Why the hell should I feel bad for him? He’s not my responsibility. He’s a grown man!” You try to justify, but deep down, there’s a feeling you can’t shake.

You didn’t even ask if he was okay, if he needed help, if he needed something. Nothing.

You groan fall back into the pillows, kicking your feet against the covers in frustration. Your hands find your head once again, and you tug on your hair. “Get out of my head, Brian Kang.”

“Why? Miss me already?”

You sit up again, this time twice as fast and almost falling off the bed in the process.

“I-I wasn’t talking about you,” you manage to sneer, to which Brian chuckles in response as he kicks off his shoes.

“Sure. Come eat.”

You frown, only now noticing the takeout bags he has in his hands before he places them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. As embarrassed as you are, you can’t deny that you’re hungry, so begrudgingly, you pad towards him.

You wait for Brian to shrug off his coat, his coat which you’re now noticing is damp and covered in little droplets. You didn’t even realise that it had been raining, and the same unfamiliar feeling tugs on your heart strings again.

“Really? You couldn’t just wait until the rain stopped?” You mumble, keeping your tone as casual as possible as you start unwrapping your food.

Brian shrugs. “It was just a little rain.”

“Yeah, well, don’t complain if you fall sick tonight and end up having to skip on your meeting tomorrow. I’m not gonna be the one staying awake to take care of you.”

Brian peers at you through his lashes with a knowing smile on his lips, and it only makes you realise how you may have sounded a little too concerned for your liking.

“I-I’m not worried about you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, turning back to your food. You’re not sure if you can continue staring at him without turning yourself into a blubbering fool even more.

Brian laughs, but he doesn’t push it. “Speaking of tomorrow, do you have anywhere you want to visit? We can go after I’m done with work,” he answers breezily, placing a peeled shrimp in your container before resuming with his meal.

You, on the other hand, are frozen in your spot, still trying to process his gesture. You stare at the shrimp in confusion before glancing at him again, but Brian doesn’t even acknowledge you.

“Didn’t you already have a whole itinerary planned?” You ask when you finally find your voice.

“Yes, but seeing as we’re on a honeymoon, we should do things we both like, no?”

“This is not a honeymoon, Brian. Call it what it is, a work trip.”

“Younghyun.” His voice softens in a way that makes your heart tighten. “I know you’ve been working a lot lately, so this is your chance to enjoy Paris. We’ll make the most of it together.”

You want to argue, but somehow the words never come.You know what it is, and you’re finally ready to acknowledge it— the small pang of guilt that creeps into your chest.

“It’s fine,” you say with a sigh. “I don’t really have anything I want to do anyway.” You shrug as nonchalantly as you could, despite knowing that it’s a lie.

Of course, there are things you want to do while you’re here— things that you know Brian wouldn’t necessarily enjoy, and things that certainly wouldn’t fit in his structured itinerary. But you can’t find it in you to say anything, not after everything he’s done.

As much as you hate to admit it, and despite how infuriating and annoying you still think he is, he’s the only one who’s been doing everything while you’ve barely even contributed to the trip. Your mind goes back to his coat again, his stupid, damp coat, and the thought of him being caught in the rain all to get you some food just because you refused to go out today leaves an uncomfortable weight in the pit of your stomach.

So, you don’t say anything— for once, you’ll give in and agree to go along with his plans, even if it means having to drag your feet to the places you know won’t excite you.

Because the last thing you want to do is disappoint him.

✦ ✦ ✦

Brian is already asleep when you step out of the shower, the three-seater sofa only barely accommodating to his tall form. His legs are bent in a way that doesn’t look very comfortable, and he has his arm draped over his eyes to block out the street lights from the window next to him.

There it is again— the dreadful feeling of guilt that twists and turns in your stomach. It doesn’t help that the rain has gotten heavier now, the occasional sound of thunder a reminder that you won’t be getting a peaceful sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you trudge towards the bed, making sure to face the wall and not Brian as you get under the covers. Try as you might, sleep doesn’t come to you very easily, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’ve already had a nap earlier, the relentless rain outside, or purely the guilt from making Brian sleep on the couch. Maybe it’s all three.

You turn on your back, eyes wide open as you stare blankly at the ceiling.

“Are you asleep?” The question escapes you before you could stop it, and you cringe at how loud your voice sounded in the otherwise quiet room.

Surprisingly, Brian hums in reply, but he remains unmoving when you glance at him.

Before you could change your mind, you remove the extra pillow from behind your head, placing it to your right before you quickly turn back on your side.

“Just come here. But any funny business and you’re dead.”

It’s silent for a while, and you think that maybe Brian had gone back to sleep or is simply just ignoring you, until you feel the bed dip.

He exhales a small chuckle as he settles beside you, and even despite the grogginess in his voice, it’s laced with amusement.

“You say that like I’d even dare.”

It’s teasing, but he doesn’t push his luck. Instead, he shifts— just enough to get comfortable, but careful not to press too close. With the pillow now in between the both of you, it’s not like he could, anyway.

A beat passes before he adds, softer this time. “Go to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, opting not to reply him. While that had managed to clear up a little bit of your conscience, there’s still one issue you’re left with: the thunder.

It’s not like you’re necessarily scared of them. They just make you a little jumpy, is all.

Even now, when it booms and splits the dark in a second-long white glow, you yelp, only to bite your tongue right after and hoping Brian hadn’t heard you.

Silence stretches between you, until you feel him reach over to remove the pillow in the middle before it lands on the floor with a thud. You finally turn to peek over your shoulder, ready to ask him what the hell he’s doing.

But of course, Brian doesn’t say anything, eyes still shut like he’s already asleep. In the empty space between the two of you now lies his arm, outstretched, waiting, like a quiet invitation.

Just as you’re about to chide at him, another strike of thunder crashes through the sky, louder this time. So of course, naturally, you jolt.

Forward.

Right into him.

You gasp. “Bri-“

He shushes you. This asshole has the audacity to shush you as he wraps his other arm around your torso, pulling you impossibly closer.

He exhales, his voice low and laced with sleep. “You’re so jumpy.”

Your words get caught in your throat, so for a while, you don’t say anything. You can’t. 

“Am not,” you huff, though it doesn’t really come out as convincing given you’re practically curled against his chest.

He hums, and you know he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t argue. And when thunder strikes for the third time, you feel his arms tighten around you in silent consolation.

You shut your eyes tightly, though this time, it’s not out of fear anymore. No, right now, you’re trying to ignore his warmth that’s already seeping into yours, and the way his featherlight touches are making your throat go drier than a desert.

You think you might need a glass of water, but you don’t exactly want to leave your spot right now.

“One word about this, Brian, and I-“

“You’ll kill me. I know,” he chuckles, the vibration of his chest against yours making you all too aware of how close you are.

You scowl, though it lacks any real bite. Smug bastard.

Still, you don’t move away.

And neither does he.

You wake up to an empty bed.

As you sit up to rub the sleep from your eyes, you almost forget where you are, still disoriented by the warmth lingering on the sheets beside you.

But then you hear the faint rustling from the other side of the room, and that’s when you see Brian by the vanity, currently buttoning up his white dress shirt with his tie still undone and slung over his neck.

Your eyes widen, and you find yourself falling back to the mattress as you stare at the ceiling, breaths slightly laboured.

What the hell is going on? Why is your heart beating so fast? Are you having a heart attack?

You squeeze your eyes shut, even going as far as to press your palms against your cheeks as though doing that would magically erase the memory from your mind.

Nope. Didn’t work. You did not just get flustered over Brian Kang of all people.

No matter how much you try to will it away, the image is already burned in your head— the sharp lines of his collarbones, the way his fingers worked the buttons with ease, the single strand of hair that falls in his forehead despite his conscious effort to style it.

“You okay?”

Suddenly, his voice is way too near for comfort, and your eyes fly open to see Brian peering at you over the side of the bed, his brows knit in confusion.

Thankfully, his shirt is buttoned up all the way now, sparing you from details you don’t want to see (rather, details that you know could potentially cause you to short circuit).

You must have taken a while to answer, gaping at him like a deer in headlights, because you only finally snap out of it when you register him reaching out to you.

“I’m fine!” You blurt, your hand extending out just in time to catch his wrist, his palm already dangerously close to your head.

“You sure?” He asks, not the least bit convinced. “You’re all red. Are you down with a fever?”

“No. Are you?”

Brian only arches his brows at your response, and you finally let him go, scooting further to his side of the bed to put some distance between you two, avoiding his gaze.

“Alright…” he scoffs, a tinge of humour laced in his tone. “I’ll be back before lunch to pick you up, okay? We could go sightseeing if you’re up for that.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumble. You had expected him to leave, but he doesn’t, and you finally turn to him again. “What?”

Brian tilts his head slightly, studying you with the same expression that always gets under your skin. Then, without warning, he leans in— just a little, but enough for your breath to catch in your throat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again, lower this time, like he knows something is definitely up; like he knows exactly the reason behind why your face is burning and he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

You swallow, gripping the sheets. “I said I’m fine.”

Brian studies you for a second more before he hums, finally straightening up. You don’t miss the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and you know he’s not pushing you further solely because he doesn’t want to embarrass you— at least, more than you already did yourself.

“Okay. If you say so.” He grabs his coat, throwing it over his shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later, love.”

And with that, he finally turns to leave, just like nothing ever happened.

You exhale sharply, bringing the covers over your head.

You’re so doomed.

✦ ✦ ✦

Your plans after lunch started at the Louvre. It was where you found out that Brian was someone who enjoyed art and history— because why wouldn’t he, right? You thought the gallery was far too crowded and you didn’t see the point in staring at paint splattered on canvas, but seeing how focused he was on reading every single plaque and description, you decided to just let him be.

He’d talk to you about it, too— feed you with fun facts about the artist or history of the painting which really, you couldn’t care less about, but as you took in the way his features would light up whenever he saw a painting he recognised, or the way his lips would twitch into a satisfied smile whenever he shared about something he found interesting, you found yourself holding back on any complaints.

Instead, you nodded along, when in reality you were much more focused on the enthusiasm in his voice and the way his fox-like eyes would crinkle at the corners when he smiled, making him look impossibly more endearing.

That was a thought you were quick to dispose of, of course, because this is Brian Kang you’re talking about. There was no way you were going to admit to anybody that your heart was starting to beat a little too fast to your liking whenever you were around him.

He took you on a boat cruise on the Seine right after, and you did complain this time, bringing up the movie you saw recently about sharks under Paris and how there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself get eaten by one. You weren’t about to tell him that it was boat rides in general that made you uneasy, but it seemed that Brian knew that already without having to ask. He merely laughed and held your hand, and that kept you quiet for the remainder of the ride.

You reach your final destination just as the sun is about to retire for the day, a quiet spot in Champ de Mars facing the Eiffel Tower. Your legs are hurting from all the walking, and with your last meal being lunch a few hours ago, you’re starving.

It was a good thing Brian had half a mind to stop by a sandwich shop on the way here, because your dinner was devoured within minutes, and you’re now left marvelling over the pretty lights that glimmer on the lattice structure before you.

You had no complaints, and it seems that Brian doesn’t have anything to say as well as he too remains quiet, but what you don’t know is that he’s looking at you.

The golden glow of the Eiffel Tower bounces off your skin, catching in the delicate curves of your face. Younghyun might have spent the day at the Louvre, surrounded by centuries’ worth of masterpieces, but hell if you’re not the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes on.

“Sweetheart.” The name gently rolls of his tongue like he’s been saying it for years, and you hum in reply, clearly distracted, until realisation sets in and your brows furrow ever so slightly as you catch your own slip up.

You turn to him with your signature frown, but Younghyun knows it lacks any real bite. “What?”

He exhales a quiet laugh before pursing his lips, inhaling softly. “I wish you would’ve just told me that you weren’t enjoying yourself today.”

Your expression wavers, but only for a second. “What are you talking about?” You mutter before turning away, like you always do when you’re flustered. “That’s not true. I had fun.”

“You get this look on your face when you’re forcing yourself to have fun,” he muses. “Like you’re watching a movie with a bad plot and you don’t want to admit that you didn’t like it.”

You only scoff, further confirming his assumptions.

“You don’t talk back like you always do. You held back on your complaints when usually, you’d jump at the first opportunity to argue with me. Every time I caught you zoning out, you weren’t looking at what I was showing you— you were looking at me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Of course, he saw right through you.

“Maybe you just had something on your face.” You glance at him.

Brian laughs. “Even you don’t believe that.”

You roll your eyes, but he isn’t done.

“You should have said something,” he continues, softer this time. “I would’ve done anything you wanted, you know?”

“Even if I wanted to go bungee jumping?”

Brian stares at you softly, a hint of a smile on his face. “I’d tie a rope to my ankle and dive a hundred feet headfirst if it makes you happy.”

Something warm stirs in your chest, but you don’t acknowledge it. You don’t want to, because if you do, then you’d have to admit that this tightening feeling in your chest could be something dangerously close to fondness.

That night, you place your pillow next to you before turning on your side, your back to Brian as he finishes up his work on the sofa.

You feel the weight of his stare as he shuts his laptop, and slowly, cautiously, he gets under the covers next to you, almost like he’s testing the waters.

“Are you asleep?” He asks, voice soft.

You don’t answer right away, not wanting to break the fragile moment. “No.”

He waits for a few moments, almost as though expecting you to elaborate, but when you don’t, he asks, “why?”

You stay quiet again, biting your lip, unsure of what to say. You don’t really have an excuse as to why you’re still awake even after the day you’ve just had. It’s not like it’s raining outside, and it’s not like there’s thunder to keep you up.

It’s not like you were waiting for him.

But Brian doesn’t press. He only stays silent for a while longer before exhaling softly, and just like yesterday, he removes the pillow that separates the two of you before shifting closer, his arm finding your waist as he pulls you flush against his chest.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs, like he’s read your mind.

Again, you don’t respond, but you don’t pull away either. You turn in his hold, slipping your arm over his torso just as he pulls you closer, and you try to ignore the unfamiliar feeling that constricts your beating heart.

You should be telling him that it’s wrong, that you don’t need this, but you don’t, letting yourself melt in his embrace instead.

Because for the first time, something about the way he holds you feels right.

Paris was weird, so much so that you were relieved the moment you arrived back in Korea. Even if it meant going back to your routine and getting drowned in backlog at work, it was better than having nothing to do, because having time to yourself meant having time to think about Brian Kang, which you found yourself to do every night before you went to sleep.

At first, you blamed it on the jet lag, but even after a week has passed and you've both well settled back into your usual rhythm which consisted of sleeping in your own separate rooms, you still found yourself thinking about him as you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You wondered if Brian thought about Paris just as much as you did, about how safe he made you feel as he wrapped you in his arms, about how the steady beat of his heart, as opposed to your erratic one, had lulled you to sleep even with the raging storm outside. You wondered if he missed your warmth the way you missed his, and how easy it was to fall asleep beside him, like your body has decided for you that his presence was something to seek comfort in.

You wanted to hate it. Because if you didn't, then you'd have to admit that it wasn't just his warmth that you missed— it was him.

And that was something you weren't ready to face, at least not yet.

So instead, you busied yourself with something— anything, to keep your mind off him. And somehow, that brought you here, standing in the kitchen with his grandmother, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and apron tied snugly around your torso as she guided you with a recipe.

You don't even know how you got here. One second, you were staring blankly at your kitchen counter, contemplating on whether to make yourself some instant noodles, and the next you're on the phone with Grandma Kang— and trust that even the mere thought of this is enough to make you cringe— if she could teach you how to make one of his favourite dishes.

You don't know what it is. Was it guilt? Gratitude? Or maybe— no. You weren't going to entertain the thought that it was something more than that. Perhaps, you just wanted to do something nice for him, to repay him for putting up with you, even make him a celebratory meal for successfully closing a deal after his meeting in Paris.

That was all to it.

"So, how was the honeymoon?" Grandma Kang asks as she stirs pot of kimchi stew.

The old lady, bless her, had arrived within minutes from your phone call, eager to spend time with her— and you quote— her favourite granddaughter.

She was the only who ever really checked in on you ever since you and Brian got married, constantly calling just to ask how you are and reminding you to eat if you haven't. She's just like Brian, and the love you felt from her was one you never really got from your parents. It's warm, unconditional— real.

Which is why you feel guilty.

Because whatever you have with Brian isn't, and all you're doing is deceiving her and letting her believe in something that isn't true.

You swallow, pretending to focus on slicing the vegetables. "It was... nice."

"Just nice?" She muses with a raised brow. "I haven't seen my grandson that happy in a long time, you know."

"He's always happy," you say lightly. "Nothing new there."

"No, dear. This was different."

You don't know how to respond to that, so you don't. You don't want to look too much into the reason behind Brian's unusually good mood, according to his own grandmother.

Grandma Kang sets the spoon down before turning to you.

"I know, you know."

Your grip tightens around hilt of the knife. "Know what?"

She smiles at you. "About you and Younghyun. It isn't real, is it?"

You stomach twists at her words. "Grandma, I-"

"You don't have to explain anything, my dear. I'm old, not blind," she chuckles, turning back to the pot. "My grandson has a lot of love to give," she says gently. "And he does it without expecting anything in return."

You exhale shakily, setting your knife down. "I know that."

She hums. "Then you should know that he's not trying to hurt you. He never has." She pauses to sigh. "Stupid boy. I know he only got married to appease me. His parents set him up with so many girls, you know? He was always polite to them, but his heart was never fully in it. Until you." Grandma Kang smiles at you softly. "It's scary, right? But that's also the beauty of falling in love."

"I don't-" you cut yourself off. Because what could you even say? That she's wrong? That you don't-

You can't. Because then you think you'd be lying.

"Grandma? I didn't know you were coming over." Brian appears in the kitchen, surprise etched on his features. He has his blazer draped over his shoulder, his tie loosened, and the sight makes your throat dry.

His eyes are quick to find yours, and you quickly turn away before he could notice the tears welling in your eyes— tears you're only now registering are there in the first place.

You don't even want to know why you're crying— you seem to be doing that a lot lately— but you may have a hunch.

"Ah, these damn onions, am I right?" Grandma Kang huffs, planting her hands on your shoulders as she moves you behind her; you're silently grateful for that. You take that time to dab your eyes dry, clearing your throat slightly and hoping your red face wouldn't give you away. "Why? Is there something wrong with me wanting to spend time with my favourite granddaughter?"

"Of course not, Grandma," Brian says gently, and you hate how the softness of his voice affects you. By the time you turn around, he's already peering at the dishes on the island, and he looks up at you with a grin on his face. "Did you make all of this?"

Somehow, his question makes your cheeks burn. You think it's embarrassment, having been caught doing something nice for a husband you never wanted in the first place.

You don't even know who you are anymore.

"With a little help," you answer, but your voice comes off as quiet. If Brian notices how uncharacteristically awkward you're being, he doesn't say anything.

"Give yourself a little more credit, dear! Younghyun, a lady who can cook this well? You better treat her right, or I'll come knock some sense into you myself."

Brian doesn't look at his grandma despite her chiding, still looking at you like you're the most valuable thing in the world. "Don't worry, Grandma." His gaze grows softer. "I don't plan on letting her go anytime soon."

✦ ✦ ✦

You find yourself wide awake again despite it being way past midnight. It's turned into a routine at this point, and you have no one else to blame but your housemate who's probably already fast asleep at the other side of the house.

You groan. You hate Brian for making you feel this way, and you really wish you meant it.

Knowing that staying in your room wouldn't do you any good, you decide to head to the kitchen— perhaps a hot drink could help ease the turmoil in your heart.

But alas, your heart only starts to thump faster when you realise the lights are already on, and you find Brian leaning against the counter as he nurses a mug of tea.

"Hey. Can't sleep?"

Your words catch in your throat, so you settle with a nod as you open the refrigerator for the mere sake of wanting something to do.

"You shouldn't be drinking something cold this late. Want me to make you some tea?" He offers, and despite yourself, you still find it in you to roll your eyes at his gentle nagging.

"No, I'm good."

"Milk?"

"I'm not a child."

"I'm afraid that's about all the options I have for you then, love," Brian chuckles before he stops, tone growing softer now. "What's the matter?"

You close the door, finally turning to him. "What are you talking about?"

"You just seem distracted lately."

"I'm fine," you mutter, and even though you know Brian isn't convinced, he doesn't push any further.

"Listen, if you're having trouble sleeping..." he trails off. "You can stay with me."

You blink at his words. "What?"

"If you want to." He pauses as though to gauge for your response, before adding, "would it help?"

You hesitate. You hate how easy the way he says it, so gentle and sincere, giving you an out like he knows how much you struggle with expressing your thoughts.

And as much as you still do, you know there's no use in hiding it anymore when he's already seen through you completely.

So you settle with a nod, a slight one, but one Brian manages to catch nonetheless.

His smile doesn't widen, and he doesn't gloat. Instead, he sets his mug in the sink before he takes your hand. "C'mon," he says softly. "Let's go to sleep."

The walk back to his room is a quiet one, and by the time you step inside, Brian lets go of your hand just long enough to pull back the covers.

"Go on," he says, nodding towards the bed.

You stall, but only for a moment, before slipping under the sheets. The mattress dips as he settles in beside you, and any distance between the two of you disappears in an instant.

Brian shifts slightly, turning on his side to face you. "Better?" He murmurs.

You still don't trust yourself to speak, so you only nod.

He smiles at you then, lips quirking up ever so slightly as he reaches over, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. The touch is fleeting, but it sends something through you.

"Good," he whispers, and like it's the most natural thing in the world, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you close— just close enough for you to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat you missed.

And with your head resting just above his heart, you note the way his breaths even out as he falls asleep, and you know you should too, but your mind refuses to settle.

"Brian?" You call out softly, so softly you think you never meant for him to hear it at all. Maybe that's for the best.

"I think..." you swallow, gripping the fabric of shirt a little tighter. "I think I'm falling for you."

You let your words hang in the air, fragile yet certain, because you don't regret it at all.

And just like the first time Brian's held you in his arms, you feel like you could finally breathe again.

As it turns out, coming to terms with your feelings was more difficult than you thought, especially when every little thing Brian did seemed to mean something now.

The way his hand would find the small on your back when you crossed the street, the way he always ensured your coffee was the perfect temperature before handing it to you, even down to the way he looked at you— soft, knowing, like he could see right through every excuse you tried to make for yourself.

Still, you tried your best to brush it off. You're a grown woman, not some schoolgirl with a silly crush. You could handle this.

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

Which is why, when you find yourself at his workplace, lunch bag in hand with a bento box specially prepared (a completely normal, thoughtful thing to do), you ignore the way your heart races at the thought of seeing him.

His receptionist greets you with a smile, telling you that he's inside his office, and you make the short walk down the hallway. For some reason, you're nervous, and while you'd usually blame it on your nerves, you should have known that it was something else this time.

Because there he is, smiling with another woman as she laughs at whatever he'd said. And Brian— that asshole— isn't doing anything to stop her either. He doesn't stop her when she bats her eyelashes at him, leaning in too close for comfort, and he doesn't stop her when she calls him Younghyun.

Younghyun, the one name that for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to say, yet hated to hear from anybody else.

You left right then and there, slamming the bag on the receptionist's table on your way out.

"Tell him he can eat this if he wants," you mutter without turning back.

The poor receptionist stares at your retreating back before she hesitantly picks up the bag. You're obviously in a mood, and quite frankly, Eunji wanted no part of it. Not like she has a choice.

"Sir?" She knocks on Younghyun's door. "Your wife dropped this off."

Younghyun looks up from his paperwork, brows furrowed when he sees the bag in her hands. "I thought I told you to just let her in if she comes by."

"Well, yes." She tightens the grip on the bag. "I did send her to your office right away, sir, but she left not even a minute later."

Younghyun tilts his head as he stares at the bag. "And what time was this?"

"Five minutes ago, sir. She just left."

Younghyun takes in a breath before nodding. "Okay, just put in on the table. Thanks, Eunji."

Eunji nods before scurrying out, leaving Younghyun to lean against his chair, jaw tightening. This wasn't like you— it wasn't very often that you'd come by his office, only doing so when you started cooking, but the times that you do, you'd usually make him come down to get you, or at the very least, have a snarky remark at the ready as you handed him his food. But this? This was something else entirely.

Of course, the way you've been avoiding him recently wasn't lost on him, and Younghyun couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

He thought everything was fine— better than fine, even, now that you were sharing a bed, falling asleep in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, but somehow you felt more distant than ever.

He started noticing the little things at first— the way you still curled up next to him at night, but never reaching out to him first. He'd pull you close, only for you to stiffen for a moment before letting yourself melt in his embrace, as though you had to remind yourself that it was okay. The way you used to linger in the mornings, pretending to still be asleep so you wouldn't have to move away from him so soon, only to be the first to slip out of bed now. You barely meet his eyes when you talk to him, and you no longer found fault with him in the littlest things, be it the way he'd organise the fridge or how he'd double check his schedules multiple times even though nothing has changed.

And the worst part? You still made him coffee in the mornings, still took care of his meals, still made sure he had everything he needed— all except you, which was the one thing he actually did need.

The silence where your bickering used to be is almost worst than the distance. At least when you argued, it showed that you were paying attention to him.

Which is why now, when he finally finds you in the kitchen, awake and not pretending to be asleep to avoid him like you do, he decides to end this once and for all.

"You didn't tell me you dropped by earlier," he starts off, as casual as possible as he leans against the refrigerator, watching you do the dishes.

You don't even turn to him. "You seemed busy. Didn't want to interrupt."

"Busy? It was lunch time, love."

You don't answer, and Younghyun sighs. "Alright." He steps towards you before turning off the faucet, and you turn to him with a scowl on your face.

"Bri-"

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to force it out of you?"

You waver slightly, not all used to this sight of Brian. He's isn't necessarily angry, but the edge in his voice as opposed to the usual gentleness that you're used to is enough to tell you that he's, at the very least, annoyed.

Still, you hold his stare. "Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie to me." He clenches his jaw. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," you retort through gritted teeth before attempting to move past him, but Brian cages you in between his arms. You glower at him. "Let me go."

"Is this about earlier?" He asks.

Your fingers twitch. "What?"

"You saw me with her, didn't you?"

Of course. Of course, he's seen through you yet again. You let out a humourless scoff, not ready to admit it just yet.

"You think I'm jealous? I don't care what you do, or who you talk to, Brian. I don't care if you want to let other people call you Younghyun, or if you want to flirt, or-"

"Flirt? Youngji's my cousin! She was at our wedding? She's getting married next month."

You part your lips to reply, but nothing comes out. The room feels unbearably still, the weight of your own foolishness settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Brian exhales sharply as he runs a hand through his hair, and he finally takes a step back for you to breathe. "You don't even call me Younghyun," he mutters, scoffing humourlessly. "But you hate hearing it from anybody else."

You shut your eyes. "Younghyun, I-"

"Say that again."

You breath hitches, and when you open your eyes, he's already looking at you.

You lips quiver, and you don't know what possesses you to obey, but his name rolls of your tongue again in a hushed whisper. "Younghyun."

He smiles at you, and you now realise it isn't the same one you see him give to Youngji. It isn't the same as the polite, effortless ones he gives to strangers, or the one he gives to his family, full of warmth.

No, this one is different.

This one is just for you.

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you finally understand.

"Now tell me," he urges gently as he takes your hands into his. "Tell me why it bothered you so much."

It seems like he already knows, and he's purposely giving you the chance to say it.

"Because I want to be the one to make you smile like that," you say quietly, and Younghyun scoffs as he shakes his head.

"Baby, do you even see the way I look at you?" He asks, almost in exasperation as though he couldn't believe you aren't getting it yet. "You think I look at everyone like they hung up all the stars in the sky? You think I smile at everyone like they're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me?" His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. "Because I don't. It's just you. It's always just been you."

You don't stop the tears that roll down your cheeks, and Younghyun is quick to catch them as he cups your face gently before he leans his forehead against yours.

"Tell me," he murmurs. "Whatever it is that you've been holding back. Say it."

"Younghyun." Your lips quiver, and he reassures you with an equally teary smile. "I'm in love with you."

Relief flickers across his face, and despite his own emotions, his lips widen even more in a way that makes your heart ache.

"I knew I wanted you the moment you called me to bail you out of jail," he says softly, as though going any louder would break the moment. "So if you say you love me," he swallows, throat working as he lets his first tear fall, "just know that I've loved you for way longer."

You let out a shaky laugh, biting your inner lip as more tears slip free. He chuckles, wiping them away again as she shakes his head.

"Can't believe you thought I'd look at anyone the way I look at you."

You sniff. "Shut up."

But you don't pull away when Younghyun leans in, and you don't stop him when he finally kisses you— soft and slow, like you have all the time in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, you think you do.

[perpetuallyexhaustedlibrarian]

What’s your favorite Wind Breaker arc?

This is such a good question! And a hard one. After some thinking, I've decided that my favorite is the Shishitoren arc! Yes, the very first one.

When I first started watching Wind Breaker, I was super skeptical. I did not expect it to be any good! I mean, how many times has 'delinquents with a heart of gold' been done in anime? I was expecting something generic - fun to watch, but ultimately forgettable. And then we meet Sakura, Mr. Blushy himself:

He's so pure and sweet. He feels ostracized by society, but it hasn't made him cruel. And he's fighty because he's been hurt by society but is compensating for it. Our first hint that there's more than meets the eye to this story.

Next, we meet Shishitoren. At first they seem like they will be the straight-up irredeemable villains who are the vehicle to show us how strong and good Bofurin is. Togame is fucking terrifying in his first appearance! He fucking smashes a bottle over a guy's head! That's evil behavior right there.

But then Bofurin starts fighting in the 'Ori tournament arc,' and we realize all of these characters have depth, even the 'side characters.' Even the 'villain' Shishitorens. Sako, Choji, and Togame especially, but even Kanuma and Arima! All the characters have history with each other.

Every time you think the story is going to zig, it zags. It never takes the easy way out, or does the predictable thing. It respects its characters, and treats their problems with the gravity and subtlety they deserve.

We first see in the Shishitoren arc how therapy-jutsu and emotional intelligence are what actually solve problems in Wind Breaker, not so much the fighting - Togame has depression! So does Choji. And the fights/dialogue with Sakura and Umemiya help them realize that they fucked up!

The Shishitoren arc is the perfect encapsulation of what Wind Breaker is about. It's not just a fighting manga. There's story here, and character depth. Subtlety. A masterwork of storytelling. It also sets up things that have a big payoff later. This arc is the first hint that there is more here than we might initially have thought. That's why it's my favorite.

Sorry, I know I rambled a bit here. Thanks for the ask! And if anyone has any others, send them on!

[dramasauce]

Cdramas I watched in 2024 List

(dramas with gifs are excellent/great and actually worth watching in my opinion. The others are not, watch at your own risk)

My Boss (2024)-There were a couple of turns in this drama that I wasn't crazy about. But they were cute when they were cute. The cases made no sense.

Fake It Till You Make It-realistic romance. Almost to the point where he's kind of unlikeable. But it's kind of hot too.

My Piggy Boss-cute mini. Loved it.

Have a Crush on You-another mini. fun

Secretary Bai Wants To Resign Everyday-a mini. He's so hot.

Admist a Snowstorm of Love-he had serial killer eyes. That's how much he loved her. FROM FIRST SIGHT. If you want a mature romance where Leo was all over her every CHANCE he got. Here's the show. Boring ass billards aside. The skinship was top tier.

My Special Girl-forgettable tbh but not bad.

Just Spoil You-mini kinda fun.

Golden House Hidden Love-that ending pmo. He's so fine though.

Love Me Love My Voice-high production quality. Cringey like love020 but easier to sit through. Better acting too.

Story of Kunning Palace-couldn't stand this female lead. She sucked. And I don't know what she saw in SML. She was stuck on him forever. When the ML was right there morally grey and HOT.

Love is Sweet-rewatch

Only 4 Love-she was big LIAR towards the end for no reason. And they gave Dylan no reason to be liked.

The Substitute Princess's Love-eh

The Legend of Shen Li-Made me cry in the first 6 episodes. He became a little annoying once they weren't on earth. But happy ending and still pretty good.

Born To Run-TEARJERKER but beautiful story. The mom on the right deserved a worse fate.

Blossoms in Adversity-Mature FL and flawed but strong quiet ML. Really strong storyline and comfortable romance.

I May Love You-he didn't like that girl. And when he did I didn't care. Love Miles though usually.

Falling Into You-although they ignore a GLARING mental illness moment. The skinship was PEAK. The romance was good when it happened and they remained strong. Anyu looks super young here but she doesn't look as old as people make it seem. I loved them both.

Men in Love-so bad I didn't finish. Most wishy washy FL ever. She really pmo bad.

Moon Love-mixed feelings. Because low budget but sweet and sad at the same time.

Meet Yourself-long winded and boring in a comfortable way. But that's the kind of dramas she does. Very slow slice of life. Sweet. Worth it.

Wonderland of Love-Mr. And Mrs Smith levels of insane chemistry but he loved her way more than she loved him and it was obvious to the point where it made it not fun. She was kind of self centered, he came second and usually third.

You are My Secret-I didn't like the way she took things that happened at work out on him.

The Unexpected Marriage-cute enough

Love Scenery-cute time passer.

Are You the One-chemistry was so good. I know people hate the lying aspect but I'm sorry it makes sense. These two deserved. One of the best of the year. Need them in another drama together.

Melody of Golden Age-I enjoyed this. Really made Ding appeal to me on another level. I think the ending was stumble-y but I enjoyed for the most part.

Fateful Love-it was okay for the first like 30 and then... eh not bad.

19th Floor-one of the top of the year. It's this year's Reset. It did get a little shakey towards the end but that because it had so many episodes. Still great.

Love Like the Galaxy-I DID NOT like this and Idk how anyone else did. But it has plenty of fans, it wont miss me. She "settled" for him and he loved her to the point of insanity. Idk what he saw, she kind of sucked. He had to watch her love someone else for waaay too long.

Forever and Ever- I didn't watch the prequel show because I didn't want to put myself through the sadness. This could be considered boring but it was a comfortable boring. I enjoyed it. She LAID THIS BOY DOWN EVERY CHANCE SHE GOT. lol

As Beautiful You-It was okay. The business parts are so long and boring. Xu Kai was so fine.

Miss J-Fun, quirky, and charming.

In Blossom-I enjoyed it. Idk why people complain about Fl's acting. It was fine.

A Journey to Love-sigh I gave in and watched it because of the chemistry that oozed off the gifsets and I wasn't disappointed. These two need another show together that ends HAPPY.

All in all a good year for my drama consumption. Let's see what next year brings!

[villafordefeatedvillains]

the new doctor who episode was really compelling to me IMO. and i'm sure this is surface-level analysis but. the actual discussion of segregation is a good touch because not only is it time-period accurate but in my opinion fits with the clear commentary on disney and the general racism of that industry and era, as well as of walt himself. however i am white and do not feel like i'm qualified to speak on this matter so if any Black fans would like to speak up and add to the discussion please do so. i also don't think Lux/mr. ring-a-ding's character being blue with a clearly "different" nose is a coincidence either, since many cartoon villains in that time (and to this day!) were/are antisemitic caricatures, and ESPECIALLY in disney cartoons. the commentary on Lux wanting a "real" (uncanny cgi) body is incredibly good, especially with the touch of him absorbing too much light and becoming "everything and nothing". gotta love making fun of forgettable cgi remakes made with no love or passion for the original material. the 2D Lux is animated with a lot of care and detail put in to make all his motions and gestures fun and wacky, whereas the CGI Lux has less expressivity and body language and much less creativity to his design and is simply a grotesque, hyperrealistic mockery of the original design like most live action remakes tend to be (especially thinking of the live action lion king or jungle book having total lack of expression on any of the animals). him becoming nothing is like. yeah. disney remakes are forgettable and bland *because* they're too big and overhyped. there's a lot of focus on making something with the Biggest, Best Effects and not a lot on making it GOOD. the bit with the doctor who fans did almost get me to tear up. i think it was a really good moment about how people can be brought together by fandoms and stories they love as well as a reminder to let yourself have a life and interests outside of that and not lose yourself to the screen. the tongue-in-cheek bit about Blink being everyone's favorite episode does not make me forgive the BBC for putting david tennant in everything though. let him retire from doctor who already or you'll be wheeling out his withered mummified body in 40 years for the 100th anniversary. let us have fresh new faces more often speaking of fresh new faces i have absolutely adored ncuti gatwa's take on the doctor since the first season, he's got a great blend of the fun, adventurous personality and seriousness and compassion for humanity, and i really like when the doctor is ultimately, for all his flaws, a person that cares deeply about others. idk he feels a lot more fleshed out than, say, 14 or 11, and i like the way he and the companions bounce off each other, especially him and belinda's dynamic so far. also him having a little closet of period-accurate outfits is so much fun and i can't believe they didn't do a doctor who has more than one or two outfits sooner. i love him and his fashion and that wears both very masculine clothes AND feminine clothes and is confident and owns it. ALSO i've been OBSESSED with the pantheon of outer gods since the first season with this doctor, i love when eldritch gods have vast power and strange and incomprehensible motives and are portrayed as being somewhat... childish and selfish, i guess? seeing everything as a game and seeing people as little dolls to play with and then having their dolls fight back. it's fun, it's a fun character thing and i like when they get creative about it like with the Maestro or Lux (still have not seen the Toymaker's episode i'm so sorry. and Sutekh, while one of them and very cool, has a much different vibe)

[writesvani]

DEAR ME 09 SNEAK PEAK

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d still turn when I call you love.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

He grins, unbothered. “You know whose head I also fucked?”

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Peak comedy. Is there a two-drink minimum for this set or what?”

“No joke. Just facts.”

“Yeah, okay, we had sex. Ages ago. You want a medal?”

He leans in slightly. “Didn’t think the first time was that forgettable.”

“It only means something if the person means something,” you say coolly.

That hits. His smile slips just a bit — before morphing into something darker.

“Then maybe you should’ve picked one of your friends. Wonder who would’ve been more desperate—gloom-and-doom Yoongi or Mr. Marrying-The-Preppy-Girl.”

You tense. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

[poptartcari]

My thoughts on the main Electric State characters (spoilers I guess)

Michelle: She was alright. Some of her dialogue in the beginning was a bit cringy, but I did enjoy her personality during the laters acts, plus the dynamic she had with her brother. One nitpick that I have was that she mentions her eye condition/unable to use a neurocaster in the first act, but then later she uses one during the final battle. Idk why the writers put this inconsistency in the film other than plot armor, but that’s just my guess.

Christopher: I like that he’s the opposite of Michelle in terms of personality, and his Kid Cosmo scenes are very interesting to see because of how he only speaks via Cosmo’s voice lines. Which, is pretty terrifying to think about, imagine your conscious being trapped inside of a robot, and the only way to communicate is through pre-recorded catchphrases. One gripe that I have with him is what happened to him in the final act, wish he stayed alive like in the book.

Keats: By far my least favorite character of the entire movie. I hate how he whines constantly, and his quips are so bad. Idk if the writers wanted to make him comic relief, but to quote Schaffrillas, “he is neither comic, nor a relief”. The one thing I enjoyed about him is his dynamic with Herman. Speaking of…

Herman: Despite having stupid quips like Keats, Herman is the more tolerable out of the two. I like how he calls out Keats’ bs and their dynamic being two bickering roommates. One cool detail about him is that he’s like a robotic nesting doll, where he pilots a bigger version of himself. Also, “More than a friend” 🤨📸

Mr Peanut: Guy who has a love for a peace treaty. Somewhat forgettable and a bit boring at times, but it’s cool that he runs a robot society in an abandoned mall.

Penny: Some of her dialogue wasn’t the best, but’s she’s just a mail delivery girl tryna make it in this crazy world. So I can’t be too disappointed at her. Also Jenny Slate’s voice, slay 💖

Pops: The most forgettable out of the robot residents trio tbh. I did enjoy he’s a gruff retired baseball player tho, but overall he’s a bit boring.

Dr Amherst: Literally felt like a sentient plot device, all he does is exposition dumbs and then dies. At least he has a robot version of himself doing the more important things in the final act.

Bradbury: An ok villain at best, though I felt his character development in the final act felt kinda left field. Not my favorite character Giancarlo Esposito has done.

Stakes: All I thought about him is just, “Stanley Tucci, but he’s an evil CEO”. Very basic villain motives plus some child experimentation/exploitation. His final fight was kinda lowkey fun to see tho.

So yeah, those are my opinions on the main ES characters. Hope you enjoyed this essay of a post.

[kaakelymaakely]

the winner takes it all

Klance fanfic

CHAPTER 1/2

Lance has always known he was destined for greatness. Broadway, Hollywood—maybe even both at the same time. But for now, he's ensemble in his college’s production of Beauty and the Beast. Not ideal, but hey, all the greats start somewhere.

Unfortunately, "somewhere" happens to be one forgettable scene, zero lines, and a tragic lack of stage time. But when a new opportunity presents itself—one that involves working very closely with Keith, the ever-annoying, ever-broody stage manager—Lance is faced with a choice.

College Theatre! AU

The boys’ dorm room was a picture-perfect description of chaos– textbooks cracked open but long forgotten, laundry threatening to pile over from the desk chair, and a half-empty bag of chips lounging on Lance’s stomach. The single window was unlatched, letting in the gross, stale smells of campus life– more specifically, the strong tang of weed from two floors down. Their cheap LED strip bathed the walls in a flickering red glow. 

Lance was sprawled across Hunk’s bed like a sickly Victorian woman, one arm flung dramatically over his forehead, the other digging into the bag of Lays. Pidge sat criss-crossed on the floor, back against the mini fridge, scrolling on their tablet as usual. Hunk– the one who should’ve had an actual claim to his bed because Lance’s was right there— was too kind to kick Lance off, instead opting to nudge him periodically in protest. 

After a long week of auditions, and a seemingly longer day of callbacks, the cast list for VLD University’s musical had just been posted. Or, more accurately, emailed. The trio had been arguing over the logistics of a heist into Professor Coran’s office– he’d totally notice a missing computer!-- when the message had been delivered. As the only one in the room who was participating in the college’s production, had refused to read the email himself. Instead, when he heard the telltale ping of his phone, he scrambled to toss it towards Hunk.

Ever the sweetest friend, Hunk graciously caught it, easily unlocking Lance’s phone and opening the message. He skimmed through the list, searching for Lance’s name. Lance watched as he scrolled, and scrolled… and scrolled… and… scrolled… until finally–

“I’m just saying,” Lance begins, talking through a mouthful of chips, crumbs flying as he gestures wildly with his free hand. He swallows– a little too quickly, coughing once before soldiering on. “Don’t be surprised when I get my first Broadway contract from Mr. Broadway himself.” 

“Lance… listen, I’m super duper proud of you— we both are!” Hunk pats Lance’s knee for emphasis.

Pidge gives a solemn nod, barely glancing up from their tablet.

“But?” Lance prompts, narrowing his eyes.

Hunk winces. “...But… you’re only Townsperson Number 4.”

Pidge laughs. “Not even Townsperson Number 1!”

Lance waves his hand dismissively. “Irrelevant. All the best people start off in the ensemble! It’s an important learning curve.” He flings a chip in Pidge’s direction, but they easily dodge it.

“Maybe,” Pidge shrugs, “but you’re not even really in the ensemble, you’re in one song. And then… nothing else.”

They reach for the bag of chips. Lance, lightning-fast, smacks their hand away with a scandalized gasp. “Thank you, Pidge. Really helping me live my dreams here.” He cradles the bag protectively. “Who even got The Beast?”

Hunk squints at his phone, scrolling through the email. “...Keith…”

“WHAT!?” Lance sits up so fast the bag of chips tumbles off his chest, spilling onto the already-cluttered floor.

Hunk bursts into laughter. “Just kidding, he’s the stage manager.”

Lance glares at him before dramatically flopping back down. “Typical.” He doesn’t bother picking up the chips.

Pidge suddenly straightens, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oooooo! Idea!”

Hunk and Lance turn to them in sync, expectant.

Pidge grins, wiggling their eyebrows. “Since you’re only in one number, maybe you could help out backstage with Keith! Be a stagehand, get all up close and personal.” They smirk before throwing on an absolutely horrendous Bridgerton-esque accent, fanning themself for effect. “‘Oh, Keith! I can’t lift this set piece all by myself! I need your big strong biceps to help me!’” 

Hunk snorts, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter.

Lance lets out an offended squawk, swinging a pillow at Pidge, who dodges just in time. “Hush, you!” His scowl barely lasts a second before slipping into a grin. “...Though that’s not a horrible idea…”

Hunk smacks him with a pillow. 

–

The Director’s office was always intimidating. Or maybe it’s because Lance was really only invited in when he was causing a ruckus. 

 It was tucked away in the back corner of the auditorium, past the racks of abandoned costumes and towering set pieces. The door itself was old, its once-polished surface now scratched and dented from years of stressed-out techies knocking too hard or actors slamming it in frustration. A laminated sign reading Director’s Office was taped just slightly crooked above the handle—probably slapped on last-minute after too many people barged in unannounced.

Lance barely bothers to knock before pushing it open with a dramatic flourish. “Hey, Allura!”

Inside, Allura’s office was no less intimidating. The cramped space was lined with tall bookshelves, each crammed with stacks of play scripts, mismatched binders, and hastily scribbled notes shoved between them. The air smelled like old paper and the faint lingering scent of coffee, despite the fact that Allura had officially quit caffeine three times this semester.

Allura, seated behind her cluttered desk, barely glances up from the paperwork in front of her. “Lance.”

With a grin, Lance steps inside and slams the door shut behind him—loudly. Allura jolts in her seat, her pen skidding across the page.

Lance snickers. “That’s Townsperson Number 4 to you, Miss Director.”

The corner of Allura’s mouth twitches upwards, but she quickly schools her expression back into neutrality.

Lance leans against the desk, crossing his arms. “Anyway,” he starts, stretching out the word. “I need to ask a favor.”

Her expression fades. A slow, exhausted sigh escapes her lips as she folds her hands on the desk, tilting her head in mild suspicion. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering, since I’m really only in one song—”

“No, Lance.” Allura cuts him off before he can finish, her voice firm. “I’m not giving Townsperson 4 any more lines. If I change the script, I’ll have a Disney lawsuit on my hands.”

“Actually, not what I was going to ask, but definitely noted. I was actually wondering if I’d be able to help out backstage.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “You… Lance McClain… want to help out backstage?”

Lance nods quickly. “Yes. That is exactly what I just said.”

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed now, considering him with a knowing look. “What’s the catch?”

Lance sputters. “What!? There’s no catch!”

Before Allura can respond, the door creaks open, and Keith walks in, clipboard in hand. He’s already speaking before he fully looks up. “Hey, Allura, I needed to—” He stops short when he sees Lance. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll come back.”

“This’ll only take a minute, Keith,” Allura says smoothly. “Please wait outside.”

Keith hesitates, then nods. He turns to leave, but Lance lifts a hand, giving him a slow, totally casual wave.

“Heyyy.”

Keith blinks at him, unimpressed. He presses his lips together in a tight line, nods stiffly, and ducks back out, letting the door click softly shut behind him.

Lance is still watching the door when he hears it—Allura’s soft, knowing hum of realization.

“Ah.”

He turns back.

She’s smiling now, but it’s different this time—smaller, sly, dripping with amusement.

“There’s the catch.”

–

“You, Lance McClain, want to help out backstage?”

Lance groaned, his shoulders slumping forward dramatically. “That’s exactly what Allura said too.”

Shiro shrugged, arms crossed as he leaned against the nearby workbench. The tech room smelled faintly of sawdust and old paint, the shelves behind him cluttered with tangled extension cords, and a chaotic assortment of tools that only he seemed to know how to use. “Sorry, Lance—”

“Townsperson 4.”

“—Townsperson 4,” Shiro corrected with an amused smirk. “It’s just… hard to believe. You’ve always been more interested in being in the spotlight, not actually… you know. Being it.”

Lance clasped his hands together, lacing his fingers with an exaggerated plea. “Shiro, my heart, my life, my incredible and amazingly talented tech director—please, please, you’ve got to let me help out. I’m going to die of boredom if I don’t have something to do. Do y’all seriously expect me to just sit backstage quietly during the show?”

Shiro exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… fair.” He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Alright, tell you what. We’ll start you off helping with building the set before we even think about letting you near lights or sound.”

Lance perked up instantly, hands dropping to his sides. “That’s a very safe choice.”

“Then it’s settled. Keith will help you figure out where to start.”

“Wait—I’m doing what?”

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around to find Keith standing behind him, arms crossed, brows furrowed in immediate suspicion. How long had he been standing there?

Shiro grinned, completely unfazed. He reached over and ruffled Keith’s hair, earning a sharp glare. “Townsperson 4 here wants to help out with the set! And, as stage manager, I’m trusting you to help him learn how.”

Keith swatted Shiro’s hand away with a scowl before shifting that glare to Lance. “Lance McClain wants to help out backstage?”

Lance threw up his hands. “Seriously?! Why is everyone so surprised?”

Keith shot a look at Shiro. It wasn’t just a glance—it was a whole silent conversation, one that Lance definitely wasn’t privy to. He frowned as Keith’s expression twisted into something frustrated, his lips pressing into a thin line before—

Keith flushed.

It was quick, barely there, just a dusting of pink along the tips of his ears, but Lance saw it. And before he could even process it, Keith snapped his attention back to him, scowling even harder.

“Fine.” The word was practically spat out.

Wow. What a way to make a guy feel welcome.

Before Lance could comment, Keith grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, practically dragging him out of the room.

Lance barely had time to shoot a helpless look back at Shiro—who, the traitor, just winked at him in silent encouragement.

Keith led him to the workshop, a chaotic but organized mess. Long wooden tables lined the room, covered in half-painted set pieces, rolls of masking tape, and scattered paint brushes soaking in murky water. Over in one corner, a group of students were painting a large sign, their laughter mixing with the occasional curse whenever someone smudged their work. A few others were hunched over a prop table, adjusting a broken chair leg.

Lance barely had time to take it all in before turning back to Keith—only to find him holding a sharp, jagged saw.

Lance’s eyes bulged out of his head. Oh hell no.

Keith barely looked up. “Do you know how to use a handsaw?”

Lance took a step back, eyes flicking between Keith and the saw like he’d just been handed a live grenade. “I’m not trusted around weapons.” He shook his head solemnly.

Keith sighed, lowering the saw. “Okay… um, can you use a staple gun?”

Lance raised a brow. “Also a weapon.”

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. “Fine. How about some wood glue?”

Lance’s expression instantly brightened. He shot Keith a wink. “Now that, I can do.”

Keith huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, basically, you’re going to glue these pieces together first, and then we staple them.”

Lance frowned. “Why not just staple them without gluing them?”

Keith leveled him with a deadpan stare. “Trust the process, Townsperson 4.”

Lance groaned, dropping his head back. “It’s humiliating when you call me that.”

Keith smirked. “Maybe try and get a better part next time, then.”

Lance scoffed. “Hardy-har-har. Keith’s got jokes over here.”

Keith’s smirk widened. “I’m full of surprises.”

“More like full of shit.” Lance crossed his arms, eyebrows raised. “Now teach me how to glue these together.”

–

Keith strides over, carrying two thick planks of wood under one arm like they weigh nothing. He drops them onto the worktable with a dull thud before crossing his arms over his chest.

“All you have to do is glue these two ends together,” he says, nodding toward the planks. “Easy peasy. Even someone as dull and oblivious as you can do it.”

Lance, who had been examining the wood with mild curiosity, snaps his head up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

“Dull and oblivious?!” His voice cracks with outrage, loud enough that several people stop what they’re doing to stare. Some of them exchange amused glances, waiting to see what will happen next. If anything, Lance thrives under the attention. He straightens his back and dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Name one thing I’ve been oblivious about!”

Keith meets his eyes, expression unreadable. His lips part slightly, and for a split second, Lance thinks he might actually answer. But then Keith exhales sharply, shakes his head, and mutters, “Just glue.”

Lance squints at him in suspicion but lets it slide, instead picking up the glue bottle. He presses the tip against the wood and squeezes. Nothing happens. He squeezes harder. Still nothing.

“This isn’t working.”

Keith lets out a long-suffering sigh, stepping in close—so close that their shoulders brush. The warmth of him seeps through the thin fabric of their shirts, and before Lance can react, Keith’s hand is wrapping around his. His grip is firm but not rough, guiding Lance’s fingers into applying more pressure to the bottle. A thick line of glue finally squeezes out onto the plank.

“There,” Keith murmurs. “You just needed to apply more pressure.”

Lance doesn’t respond. He can’t respond. His brain has short-circuited.

Because Keith is still there, pressed up against him, voice low and steady in a way that makes something inside Lance buzz. He keeps his eyes firmly trained on the glue, as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. His throat feels tight, and when he finally tries to speak, it comes out as a choked, strangled noise.

Keith turns to look at him, an amused glint in his eye. “Cat got your tongue?”

“As if,” Lance forces out, his voice an octave too high. He clears his throat and tries again. “I just… am really focused on gluing this wood.”

Keith smirks. It’s the kind of smirk that screams I know something you don’t want me to know. He presses his side harder against Lance’s, leaning in ever so slightly. If Lance turned his head right now, they’d be right there, noses almost brushing, lips—

Lance makes a small, wounded sound in the back of his throat.

Keith grins. “I see.”

“I’d sure hope so—I bet it’d be real hard to stage manage if you couldn’t,” Lance blurts, desperate to regain some control of the situation.

Keith hums, still far too smug for Lance’s liking. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

“...What?”

Keith tilts his head slightly, like he’s about to say something more, like he’s enjoying watching Lance squirm—

But before he can, a voice cuts through the air.

“Keith!”

A freshman jogs into the workshop, out of breath, hands braced on her knees. “Griffin just spilled paint all over the stage-right flat!”

Keith curses under his breath and immediately pulls away, already turning toward the stairs. And Lance—Lance does not miss the warmth, and he absolutely does not watch Keith’s ass as he marches off.

[valwrites-stuff]

Hi, you write so beautifully for current James and I was wondering if I could request one, if that’s alright please? They both meet by chance and feel some connection towards each other. Reader isn’t very confident, but decides to give in and experience some loving even if it’s temporary and maybe not real. They spend an intense night full of passion, lots of emotions, different poses, etc. James is very sweet and worships all of her. They also talk to each other about everything and their bond only gets stronger. Day comes and he wakes up alone in bed as she left knowing that there never could be something between them. Feel free to add either a happy or sad ending. Thank you!! ❤️

So sorry this took me so long, I hope this is what you had in mind ❤️

Sweet connection

James Hetfield x Reader ☆ Fluff and Smut 

Beneath the fluorescent lights on the inside of the gas station, the day unfolds like a cracked vinyl record, the same monotonous tune repeating itself with every passing hour. You stand behind the counter, absentmindedly sorting through a delivery of tobacco products. It was just another boring day where customers came and went, each interaction as forgettable as the last.

“Hey, can I get one of these, please?” a voice calls out, breaking through your dull concentration.

You turn, expecting to see a tired regular or a bleary-eyed traveler seeking a caffeine fix. Instead, your heart leaps into your throat as you process the sight before you, the unmistakable silhouette of James Hetfield, standing in front of you with casual confidence.

You blink as the world suddenly dims, the buzzing lights and distant sounds fading into the background. “Oh, um... sure!" You manage, scolding yourself for how utterly starstruck you feel. You can practically feel your cheeks turning crimson.

James raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Is that a yes?” His voice was rich and deep, like the heavy thrum of a guitar riff, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Y-yes! Right away!” you stammer, focusing your attention back to the display of cigars as if the neatly arranged packages would provide you with the composure you desperately need. Your fingers tremble as you fish one out, nearly dropping it twice before you turn around to the register and the Metallica frontman.

As you scan the item, you risk a glance at him. James was studying you with an amused expression, those piercing blue eyes strangely warm, as if they saw more than just a stranger. “You a fan?” he asks with a chuckle, seemingly being able to see right through you, leaning against the counter, his presence both intimidating and thrilling.

“Uh, yeah! I mean, I am, but—” you interrupt yourself, unsure how to express your admiration without sounding like a babbling fangirl. “I just didn’t expect to see you here. Like, in this... gas station,” she replied awkwardly.

He chuckles again, that rich sound echoing in your ears, and you can't ignore how his soft laughter makes you feel all fluttery inside. “Yeah, I tend to haunt the unlikeliest of places."

“I can see that,” you say with a shy smile, thankful that your voice seems to be regaining some of its earlier confidence. You hand him the sealed package and your fingers brush slightly, sending a jolt of electricity through you. His gaze lingers on yours, and time feels like it has hit the brakes.

He glances around, as if noticing for the first time how small and mundane the place is. “You know, it’s nice to get away from the limelight sometimes. Just bought a house around here. That's if you're wondering what I'm doing in a small town like this." 

His words take you by surprise. You had never expected to hear something so personal from a rockstar. It was as if he felt a strange sense of trust in you, despite knowing you are a fan.

"I can understand that, Mr. Hetfield," you reply, your voice trembling slightly. "It must be hard to live a life in the spotlight."

He nods, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Yeah. Sometimes, it's nice to just be... normal, you know? To have a quiet place to retreat to."

"It's nice here, would you like me to show you around sometime?" You ask, the question spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

He looks at you, surprised, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "I wouldn't mind that," he says, his eyes twinkling.

"Well I...you know where you can find me." You smile and watch his curious features before he pays for his cigars and gas.

You talk for a few more minutes, your conversation flowing effortlessly despite your nervous demeanor.

As he turns to leave, you can't help but feel a strange sense of connection with him. Despite your vastly different lives, you share a common desire for peace and simplicity.

"Thank you." he says, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "It's nice to talk to someone who understands. Oh and call me James."

With that, he strides out of the gas station, leaving behind a lingering sense of wonder and an unexpected memory. As you watch his car disappear into the distance, you can't shake the feeling that you just had an encounter with a man who, beneath the rockstar persona, was simply a human being longing for simple connection.

You feel your gaze drawn towards the window, the cars passing by, a welcoming distraction from your rambling thoughts. Lost in your reverie, you barely notice the incessant buzzing of a phone.

Glancing down at your own, you realize with a start that it was not the source of the noise. Your eyes fall on the foreign device resting on the counter—James' phone. A sigh escapes your lips as you realize the predicament.

Tossing up your options, you decide to return the phone after work. You know you could inquire in town about his new abode or simply search for his distinctive car.

Curiosity mingles with a sense of anticipation as you plot your evening adventure. You'll find a way to make his forgotten phone a bridge, a chance to cross the space that separates you, a chance to maybe find your way into his life.

You clock out of work at the end of your shift and get into your car, ready to face your mission. As you drive your heart beats a little faster and after a few wrong turns, you finally navigate your way to a lakeside neighborhood, where the air carries the scent of pine and tranquility.

There you spot it, a sleek black luxury SUV parked in the driveway of a very modern style country house. You park your own car and step out, your pulse racing. As you approach the house, each step is a mixture of excitement and trepidation. What if he’s not home? What if he is? Would he even remember you?

You walk up to the front door, the air thick with anticipation and ring the doorbell. Moments later, the door swings open, revealing that familiar face. He blinks in surprise, and his eyes widen in recognition. "It's you!" he exclaims, and suddenly, the world fades away.

“Your phone,” you manage to say, holding it out like a peace offering. His soft laugh dances through the evening air.

"Oh wow, there it is, I had no clue where I left my phone, I was searching the whole house. Can't believe you went through all this trouble to bring it back to me despite not knowing where to find me...," he says, his voice filled with gratitude.

"It was no trouble at all...it's a small town you know..." you reply, trying to keep your cool despite the fact that you were standing in front of one of your biggest idols. "I just wanted to make sure you got it back."

"Well thank you, I appreciate it," James says, a small smile playing on his lips. "Would you like to come in for a drink? I feel like I owe you one."

You can't believe your luck. Not only are you standing at James Hetfield's front door, but now he is inviting you into his home. "Oh I...I would love to," you say, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

As you walk into his house, you can't help but take in every detail. A very rustic farmhouse style but at the same time very modern and the air was filled with the faint scent of incense. James leads you to the living room and offers some coffee which you gladly accept.

"So, I didn't get your name did I?" James asks from the kitchen, before taking a seat on the couch next to you after placing two cups of coffee on the wooden table in front of you.

"I'm Y/N," you reply, feeling a rush of nerves at the thought of actually having a conversation with him.

"Well, Y/N, I have to say, I'm impressed by your honesty and determination, I haven't even realized I lost my phone for the longest time, and that anyone who found it would respect my privacy is quite a rare thing I guess...," James says, his eyes meeting yours.

You feel your cheeks flush at his words. "Oh I promise I haven't touched it since finding it on the counter...I just couldn't let your phone go missing," you say, trying to sound casual.

James chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, I'm glad you did. And who knows, maybe it was fate that brought us together. It's nice to get to know someone from around the area you know." 

You can't believe what you are hearing. Is James Hetfield actually flirting with you? You take a sip of your coffee, trying to calm your racing heart.

As the evening goes on, you talk and laugh, sharing stories and getting to know each other. And as the hours pass, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this chance encounter at work could turn into something more for real.

"You know I'm having quite a hard time these days, after my recent divorce..." James says as he's staring ahead as if to avoid your gaze despite deciding to tell you about his personal problems.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you," you reply sympathetically, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort.

"Yeah, it's been tough. I never thought I would be going through something like this. I thought she was the one, you know?" James says, his voice filled with a hint of sadness.

"I understand. It's never easy when a relationship comes to an end, especially when you thought it would last forever," you say, trying to offer some words of encouragement.

"I just feel a little lost, like I put so much of myself into that relationship, and now it's gone," James tells you.

"It's okay to feel that way, James. It's all a part of the healing process. Just remember that you are not alone, and there are people who care about you and want to help you through a difficult time," you say, squeezing his hand gently.

"I appreciate that, I really do. It's just hard, you know." James says.

"Take it one day at a time. Allow yourself to process your feelings. And remember, there is always hope for a brighter future, even in the darkest of times," you say, offering him a small smile of reassurance.

"Thank you for listening, and for being here for me. It means more than you know," James says, finally meeting your gaze with a look of gratitude in his eyes.

"Of course, James. I want to see you happy. You deserve nothing less," you say, giving his hand one final squeeze before letting go.

As you sit in silence, the weight of James' words hanging in the air, you realize that sometimes the greatest act of kindness is simply being there for someone in their time of need. And in that moment, you know that you will do whatever it takes to help James find his way back to happiness. As much as you can do that is.

"Thank you, really. I'll be fine, I just had to get away for a bit, so I came here and bought this house. You know a place I can come back to whenever I need to clear my head for a while."

"You sure made the right decision like you'll love it here and this view? Look at that, it's fantastic." Admires the sight out of the large windows, giving you an amazing overview of the lake outside. 

As you stare out into the scenery, James nods but keeps his eyes on you, having a much better view, admiring the person in front of him, yearning for something that makes him feel desired and something that reminds him of his once felt love towards someone. 

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, reflected in the still surface of the lake. "I know it's beautiful," James says, his voice calm and soft, "but not quite as beautiful as you..."

You turn your head, catching the warmth in his gaze. He had moved closer, his arm resting against the back of the sofa, his hand gently resting on your thigh. A shiver runs down your spine, not from the cool air, but from the intensity of his eyes.

"James..." you breathe, your heart hammering against your ribs. He doesn't speak, simply leans in, his lips coming to brush yours in a feather-light touch. His kiss was slow, a gentle exploration, tasting of the unspoken desires.

You feel a rush of emotions flood through you as you melt into his touch. The world around you seems to fade away as you lose yourself in the moment. His hand moves from your thigh to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

You can feel the heat between you, the electricity crackling in the air. It seems to be a moment of pure connection, a moment where everything else ceases to exist. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

You kiss him back eagerly as he pulls you closer. And then, suddenly, he grabs your leg and pulls you into his lap, holding onto your thighs to keep you seated.

His touch is electric, sending a jolt of desire through you as you look into his eyes, dark with desire. "Do you want this?" he whispers against your lips, his breath hot against your skin.

You nod, unable to form words as you lean in to kiss him again. The connection between you is intense, a fire burning between you that threatens to consume you both.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you look into his eyes and whisper, "Yes, I need this..."

And with that, you surrender yourself to the passion that had been building between you, letting go of all inhibitions as you give yourself over.

You can feel James' hands grabbing onto your hips, pulling you closer to him, body pressed against his. The contact is making you shiver and your heart pound in your chest. 

His lips find your neck, placing hot kisses on your skin and you moan softly, hands moving to the hem of his shirt, fingers finding their way underneath the fabric, feeling his warm skin. 

Your touch makes goosebumps rise on James' skin, his lips moving to your ear, breath hot against your flesh.

"You're so fucking sexy," he whispers, his hands moving to your thighs, fingers digging into them. You bite your bottom lip, hands wandering to the front of his pants, your fingers nervously fumbling with his belt. You can already feel the hardness through James' jeans, your body influenced by the action.

You let out a soft breath as your digits finally manage to undo his belt, hand slipping inside his pants, your fingers wrapping around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Y/N," James gasps, his hips bucking into your hand. You start to stroke him, hand moving up and down his length, your thumb brushing over the head of his cock, spreading the precum that had leaked out. You can feel him getting harder in your palm and you lean forward once more, lips finding his, your tongues dancing together as you continue to stroke him.

"I want you, James," You whisper against his mouth and James lets out a soft groan, his large hands moving to your ass, pulling you closer to him.

"I want to feel you inside of me." You murmur into the kiss. "Fuck, if you continue doing this, I'm gonna cum," James moans as you can feel him getting closer. 

He lets out a soft sigh, his hands moving to your shirt, undoing the buttons. You squeal internally as he removes it from your shoulders, hands going to your bra, undoing the clasp. As the bra falls away, James's hands replace it, cupping your petite breasts, thumbs gently brushing over peaked nipples. He kneads the soft flesh, his touch both possessive and adoring. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his lips finding yours again, his kiss tender and deep.

You moan into the kiss, body trembling with need. James's expert touch drives you wild, and you can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. You pull away slightly, eyes dark with desire. "James, please."

In response, James moves to gently push you down onto your back, bare skin touching the texture of the sofa and your legs wrapping themselves around his waist. 

He kicks off his shoes before pulling the shirt over his head, your eyes locked on his delicious appearance, body well maintained, tattooed arms strong and ready to keep you in place.  

James's hands move to the waist of your pants, quickly undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. With a swift motion, he peels the pants off, leaving you in only a pair of skimpy lace panties.

James gazes at your naked body, a look of appreciation on his face. "You're gorgeous," he breathes, his eyes raking over your form. "I can't wait any longer."

With that, James is on his feet and quickly sheds the rest of his own clothes, his cock erect and proud, throbbing with need. "I want you inside of me," you murmur.

Groaning, James climbs back onto the sofa, hovering over your body, hooking his inked fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down your legs. Left bare, he situates himself between your spread legs. He rubs his tip teasingly against your wet entrance, causing your hips to buck instinctively. "You want it, baby?" he asks, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me how much you want this." 

"I want it so bad." You pant, eyes fixed on where both of your bodies join. "Please, fill me up. I need to feel you, take me hard."

James doesn't need to be told twice. With a savage growl, he plunges deep into your tight and welcoming heat. You cry out, your back arching off the sofa as you feel every inch of James's thick cock filling you up.

He starts to move, his hips snapping as he establishes a steady rhythm. Your hands grasp his ass, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Fuck me, James," you moan, voice breathy. "Harder, please."

James complies, slamming into you needily with each powerful thrust. Your eyes roll back in your head as you cling to James, nails digging into his flesh. "That's it, baby," James growls, his hands holding onto your thighs, spreading them wider to allow even deeper penetration. "Take it all. You're doing so good."

The sound of your flesh slapping together fills the room, accompanied by your whines of pleasure. James leans down, capturing a swollen nipple with his mouth, sucking and biting gently as he continues to thrust. "You gonna cum for me?" he urges, his voice rough. "Let me feel you come around my cock."

Your soon to be happening orgasm hits you like a freight train. You cry out, body shaking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washes over you. James feels your pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock, milking him, and it's all he can take. With a few more powerful thrusts, he spills himself deep inside of you, moaning freely as his release coats your gummy walls.

Collapsing onto your sweaty body, James tries to catch his breath, his own body slick with sweat. Your arms wrap around him, a satisfied smile on your face. "That was incredible," you whispered, stroking James's silver hair.

James chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We're not done yet," he promises, already feeling his cock stirring again. "I have a feeling this night is going to be very long and very satisfying."

And it was. James and you explore each other's bodies with relentless passion, discovering new ways to pleasure each other with each passing hour. It was a night of uninhibited desire, one that both would remember with intense satisfaction for a very long time.

The sheets were a tangled mess, and your bodies were spent, but the smile on your faces said it all. It was a night of pure, unadulterated, erotic bliss but it all seemed to end too soon when James awoke in his bed by early morning, left with nothing but a cold and empty mattress next to him, your presence still lingering in every cell of his body, making him let out a sigh as he stares at the ceiling wondering when he deserves to feel that certain kind of happiness again, not just for one simple night but for a brighter future.

But little did he know that you would come back with a warm smile and a fresh breakfast waiting for him, driving all the way to the best bakery in town by early morning, hoping he would still be asleep and not sad about your disappearance. And after the sun rises he would be one happy man with wonderful hopes for the future.