#this got long but it was so much fun to write

[pukicho]

You've changed, man. I don't know what it is but some time in the past six months your shitposting got a bitter edge to it. Sure you could blame the political climate or world events on it but...I dunno. I used to scroll your blog to momentarily escape the hardships of today but now it feels like even you're not a safe place any more. I wish you luck on your journeys onwards but I'm sorry to say I cannot travel with you any more. Be well, puki, and I hope whatever troubles you passes.

Escapism is important and I try to offer that to a degree, but ultimately, I am a person. I experience hardships, I empathize with the worsening conditions of my world. As long as I care about things external to myself, I will subtlety, or blatantly express them in some way in my blog, which I’ve done for years, not merely 6 months.

Unbeknownst to you, these concerns are often the inspiration for some of my most beloved posts.

You’re free to leave of course, if my 1 serious post out of every 30 fucks your day up that badly, then please, feel free! - I simply don’t see my blog as escapist fluff, it never has been, even if that is often the outcome. My page has always been about my interests, and I just so happen to enjoy making people laugh.

I see it more as a fun place to hang out and express the feelings I feel inclined to express, most of which are fun and goofy, some of which are not. I love our little playful back-and-forths, and I enjoy seeing your insights, even if some of you are fucking stupid as shit. Sometimes I just like using you guys as little guinea pigs, testing my odd expressions out on you, and sitting back and seeing the outcome.

Ultimately, I try to balance balance 3 things on my page:

Comedy, as you know - I like making jokes, I like testing them out on people. Even if they suck, I like writing them regardless. Sometimes I sit back after writing something I know objectively sucks, hit send, and watch as everyone tells me how much it sucks. It brings me joy.

A desire for money - because if not, I wouldn't be able to make posts half as often as I do (ie, shirt sales, promoting my music, etc) - Sometimes that anxiety for money also bleeds into my posts, it has for years; and I hold back from being even more desperate about money than I feel I should be sometimes.

And the point you brought up: The occasional comment on something real that matters to me. - Over the past 3 years, if not longer, I’ve made a few uncharacteristically-serious statements on things like Covid, Gaza, The Presidency, hell, even the indigenous people of Australia... and more.

Why do I feel inclined to discuss these things? Because I want to. My page has always been about what I want. Fortunately for you, what I usually want to do is to make you laugh! But sometimes I wish to express other feelings, because I have a platform that allows my voice to travel further than that of others!

For those angry at all the qualms I don't bring up, try to understand my balancing act, as someone who understands your desire for escapism, and the comfort that it brings you. If the veil falls, remember, we are of like-company - - and maybe, this veil was only ever in your head to begin with.

[peachyprophets-blog]

BETWEEN SUN AND MOON

Humanoid! Catnap x Reader x Humanoid!Dogday

CW: Nicknames "Angel"

Summary: You get a letter calling you to an old factory. When you arrive, you recognize old faces that you once saw and loved as a child...

A/N: I've finished Chapter 4 of Poppy Playtime and felt the urge to write a FF.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The letter was on the table in front of you. You were surprised when you found this letter in your mail. The letter had an address that you hadn't been to for a long time, Playtime. When you were younger, you went there every day. Your favorites there were always Catnap and Dogday. Unfortunately, at some point you couldn't go anymore because your parents moved with you to another state. The last time you went there as a child, you were given two cuddly toys, Catnap and Dogday. The employees had known you long enough now and thought it would be a pleasure to give you smaller versions of two of your favorites as a parting gift. When you remembered it, you had to smile, of course that made you super happy. You still had them both to this day, and they accompanied you when you moved with Catnap and Dogday, you never felt lonely. And when you moved back to the city where you grew up after years because you had been offered a well-paid job, you suddenly found the letter in your mail inviting you to the Playtime area. You had already heard about the factory closing back then, but like everyone else, you didn't know why the factory with the great figures and the endless fun had closed. So you decided to drive to the factory the next day to see how things were going and maybe find out why the factory was closed.

When you went to the factory the next day, you were already excited inside, you were finally returning after all these years to the place that was so dear to you as a child. When you entered the factory, you were confused why it was open, but you didn't worry about it. After many terrible events such as the chase by Huggy Wuggy or Mommy Long Legs, you finally arrived at Playcare, the place that had shaped you so much. But you now knew how terrible this place was in secret and could also imagine why it had been closed. When you arrived at Playcare, you sat down for a moment because you were exhausted, but as soon as you had found some peace and quiet, a red mist came towards you before your vision became increasingly blurred and you fell into a restless sleep.

You can remember this dream, you had had it once before as a child. You woke up but your eyes remained closed, you heard two voices communicating with each other and there was a slightly sweet smell in the room. "Are you sure they're okay?" a voice asked worriedly but got no answer, just a deep "mhhhm". You were slowly able to open your eyes and what you saw frightened you. Dogday and Catnap were standing right in front of you, they seemed to be arguing with each other. When Dogday noticed that you were awake, he started to smile and sat down next to you before gently stroking your head with his hand. "Angel, you're awake," he said to me in a soothing tone. Before I could answer, I felt another weight next to you. Catnap had sat down next to me and laid his head against mine. "Don't worry, angel, he's missed you all these years, just like I have," Dogday assured me. Catnap gave an affirmative purr and looked me in the eyes for a moment longer. He seemed to notice that the dream was getting to you because shortly afterwards he rubbed his head against yours in a soothing manner.

"We've never forgotten you, of course, but we were always with you." When Dogday said these words, you remembered the cuddly toys you were given back then. Sometimes it felt like they were watching you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello! If you are willing I would like to request a Frankie morales x reader oneshot? 🙃🙃 im obsessed with Frankie x wife reader lately and I was thinking maybe you could write somethin where the reader is pregnant and having cramps / contractions while Frankie is out with his friends and calls him all freaked out but even though it’s just false labour he still rushes home anyway?🥰🥰

(I love your writing btw I hope you accept this request thank you <3)

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐲 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

Pairing Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Summary A night of laughter, love, and quiet devotion reminds you and Frankie how much your world has grown—especially with your baby on the way.

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! This is my first time writing for Frankie, so let me know what you guys think. 

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Across the living room, the evening news drones so low, the TV might as well not be on at all. Ten minutes ago, Frankie left you alone on the couch to go get ready for a night out. You’d looked up from your book long enough to catch the wink he shot you before disappearing up the staircase.

As easy as it would be for him to stay in, you insisted he go out and enjoy himself. The two of you had finally settled into your new home. Soon enough, the guys were starting to rib him about falling off the face of the earth.

He's getting better at striking a balance these days. 

“Alright, hermosa,” he announces as he descends the stairs. “Here’s what I’m working with...” 

Frankie walks back into the living room in dark-wash jeans and a sage button down. As you set your book aside, he offers a goofy spin in a lighthearted mockery of what you oftentimes do. You try to restrain your smile, but it shines through anyways. Frankie grins like he’s won a prize, teeth glinting along with the sparkle in his dark eyes.

Everyone said he was trouble when you first met. It didn’t take long to realize they meant the intoxicating kind that disarms a room, draws people in, makes them feel seen. The kind you’d never recover from losing if you let slip away. 

A year ago, he got down on one knee and asked you for forever. That was the moment you realized that, in turn, you were the trouble he couldn’t bear to lose.  

Before you have the chance to stand, he stalks over to you and leans down to capture your lips in a brief, tender kiss. 

You smile when he pulls away to stand back up to his full height, all six feet and broad shoulders. Looking up at him from your seated position feels a little funny, but you can't bring yourself to mind. If for no other reason than the gentle way he pinches your upturned chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Have fun,” you murmur as you blink up at him. 

“I will.”

“And be safe.”  

“Yes ma’am.” Frankie’s touch falls away, and you stand to wrap your arms around his neck.

You tuck your nose into his shirt as his strong arms encircle your waist. He smooths a large hand up your back before stilling at the nape of your neck to deliver a firm but gentle squeeze. As he starts to pull away, you slip your fingers into his hair to scratch his scalp with your nails. It’s been a while since his last haircut, and now the dark strands curl beneath his ears. 

Frankie hums a low note of satisfaction. “Not fair.” 

“Completely fair,” you lilt.

He chuckles and pulls back enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are soft as he says, “Should be back in a couple hours.” 

“I’ll wait up.”

"You don't have to," he says.

"Don't I always?"

He thinks back over the times he's gone out without you, and yeah. You always do.

•••

It's quiet when he arrives back home. 

He kicks his boots off at the door and notices a pink sticky note on the wall above the key holder. There's a smiley face and heart drawn on it along with "welcome back!!!" Frankie feels himself smiling as he plucks it off the wall and saunters further into the house. 

In the living room, one lamp remains on so he can navigate his way through the otherwise dark space. You've folded the throw blanket. Fluffed and arranged the pillows like you do every night before bed. It’s the little things like that, little signs of life, that he’ll never tire of coming back home to. 

When Frankie finally enters the bedroom, he sees your smile in the warm, dim lamplight. You're kneeling on the bed wearing the cutesy black pajama set he likes on you. A breathy chuckle escapes him as he takes you in before his eyes find yours. 

He plays off the warmth in his cheeks by holding up the sticky note you had left for him. 

You tilt your head with innocent, furrowed brows. “Where’d that come from?” 

“Beats me," he plays along as you slide off the bed. 

He sets the note on the dresser so he can rest his hands on your waist when you approach. The scent of vanilla evades his senses in the gentlest way. 

“Did you have fun?” It’s a genuine question, but his mind goes fuzzy when you smooth your hands from his stomach up to his pecs. 

With a distracted nod, his thumbs slip beneath your satin tank top to brush your skin. All he can think about is the gentleness of your touch. The way you begin to toy with the button at the top of his shirt without actually unbuttoning it. 

“But not too much fun, right?” you ask. “You’re not too tired, are you?” 

You finally pop the first button undone, then the next one, then the next. Revealing more and more of the dusting of hair across his tanned chest. 

Rather than answering, he scoops you over his shoulder as you squeak his name. 

- 

Eight Months Later

It’s been a while since Frankie laughed this hard. When he’s finally on the verge of catching his breath, Santiago picks up from where Will left off in the story, and that pleasant side ache returns. If he weren't too busy swiping the tear from his eye, he reckons he’d see every head in the bar turned to gawk at the four cackling hyenas. A live country rock band plays as their soundtrack.

Luckily, that isn’t the case. Like them, everybody is lost in their own little worlds. With their own inside jokes and old stories that endure no matter how many times they're told. 

“And that’s what your ass gets for trying to show off,” Will concludes. It earns him a prompt elbow to the side from his younger brother, whose cheeks are either flushed from the whiskey or embarrassment. 

It had been the story about Benny getting told off by a group of older women during a group trip to Panama. Not in English, but in Spanish. The icing on the cake was that they had been pausing every few words so Santiago could translate for them in real time. 

As their amusement begins to settle, they look around at each other and shake their heads. It’s been too long since they’ve gotten together like this. Frankie takes a small swig from his beer and lets his head rest against the wall behind him. 

Under the dim lights, with drinks on the table, and surrounded by strangers, it feels as though no time has passed at all.  

Benny’s eyes rove over to the recreation room, where people shoot pool and throw darts. 

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m ready to kick some ass in a game of 501,” he says. 

William folds his hands on the table. “We puttin' money up?”

“Hell yeah, we are,” Benny scoffs and pulls a face. “I’m leaving here with something.” 

“Twenty-five each and the winning team splits the pot?” Santiago proposes. “I call Fish on my team.” He gives Frankie's shoulder a squeeze.

Benny drums a beat on the table. “Let’s do it.” 

They’re in the middle of scooting past other patrons when Frankie’s phone begins buzzing in his pocket. He doesn’t expect to see a picture of your face light up the screen. Santiago is the only one in the group who notices. 

“Gotta take this,” Frankie tells him, and answers the call as he turns away. 

“Hang on one second, honey, I’m getting someplace quiet.” 

To make it to the front of the establishment, he shuffles between a small sea of tables filled with people with loose smiles and glowy faces. He holds the door open for a group of young ladies filing inside, which earns him a series of chirpy thank-yous. The giddy energy of the night fades once he’s outside, as if it was all stuffed within the walls of Dave's Bar and Grill. With the patio being around back, only a few people stand smoking out front. 

The air is warm. A couple of the parking lot lights flicker. Frankie heads toward one of the benches as he says, “Alright, sweetheart, I’m here.”

A heavy breath is the first thing that greets him from the other end of the line. 

“Frankie,” your voice is shaky, and his brow furrows as he takes a seat. 

“Talk to me,” he coaxes, his voice even softer. 

“I’m cramping pretty bad right now.” You take another deep breath. “I think it’s the Braxton Hicks the nurse was telling us about. They’re finally happening.” 

He stands from the bench and begins pacing along the curb. “You sure they're the false ones?” he asks. “You know you’re body better than anybody else…” 

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure.” Another sharp ache pulses low in your stomach, and makes you bite back a small whine. 

Frankie releases his lower lip from between his teeth as guilt tugs at his chest. “Go lay down, okay?” he says as he fishes his truck keys out of his pocket. “Or run yourself a bath if you can manage. Nurse said that’s supposed to help.” 

Shuffling arises on your end. “Okay,” you murmur.

“I’m on my way.” 

Tonight, you can’t muster the willpower to tell him to stay out with his friends. Ever since you hit the thirty-four-week mark, you’ve been hyper-aware of every pang, flutter, and gurgle. Even if you were the one feeling the heat, it was easier to walk through the flames with him. 

“Drive safe, okay?” you say. “Go the speed limit.” 

“I’m always safe.” It’s a white lie, but he was getting much better. Especially now that he was about to have two people looking forward to him arriving home in one piece at the end of the day. 

Life is a delicate, fragile, remarkable thing. It’s a fact that solidified all the more the first time you showed him a black-and-white ultrasound and pointed out your little girl. 

“I’ll be there soon,” he promises. 

Santiago steps outside as he's hanging up, immediately scoping out Frankie. 

“Everything alright, man?” He searches Frankie’s gaze. He’s always analyzing and piecing together. People, places, things. Frankie doesn’t have to say anything. “Your wife and baby okay?” 

Frankie nods, but there’s worry etched across his face. “Gonna head home to be on the safe side.”  

“I’ll let the guys know.” Santiago pulls Frankie into a hug and gives him a few pats on the back. “It was good seeing you tonight.” 

“Likewise.”

“Guess it’ll have to be a playdate next time,” Santiago teases. 

Frankie cracks a smile. 

•••

With the bathroom door cracked, you can hear the familiar shuffling of Frankie entering the house. His keys clink into the bowl shortly before the steps begin to creak under his weight. One purposeful footstep after the next, until he’s filling the doorway with a hand on his hip. But you sit in the bathtub with your eyes closed and your head tipped back. The subtle scent of lavender fills the humid air. You’re only visible from your collarbones up, and your pregnant stomach rises above the bubbly water. 

Rather than speaking, he stands there and takes you in with those soft, dark eyes. You’re beautiful where you lay. His gaze is palpable, and opening your eyes to meet it solidifies for him that you’re okay. It's a silent assurance. These moments when you don't need words have only grown in number. Every trace of worry that once existed has dwindled away.

As he takes a small step inside, he tosses his baseball cap onto the sink counter and runs a hand through his hair. Tension melts from his shoulders in real time. Makes him look even taller where he stands.  

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you say, then note, "Your shoes."

The teasing undertone to your words makes him chuckle. At himself, at the fact that he’d rushed home, despite your warning, with a head full of clamoring thoughts. Thoughts of arriving to you in labor and having to deliver his own child. Or packing you into his truck and needing to pull over and do the very same. There was no middle ground.

He’d dedicated years of his life to working under the most intense pressure, but it was his pregnant wife who’d finally thrown that composure off course.  

Yet here you were pointing out the fact that he had tracked his shoes upstairs.

Frankie crouches to untie his boots before kicking them off his feet. He stumbles in the process and has to brace himself on the sink. The smile already budding on your face blooms into a fuller one when he huffs and peeks over at you. When you straighten up, the water sloshes and reveals more of you chest. 

A long sigh escapes him as he sits alongside the tub and stretches his long legs out in front of him. That’s when a laugh bubbles up your throat. Despite his best efforts to retrain his own amusement, he can’t help but join in. The two of you sit there laughing in a mix of relief and acceptance of the fact that your worlds have only just begun to change. 

A comfortable silence soon settles in the space between you. Frankie gets an almost wistful look about him as he stares straight ahead. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask after a while. 

He rests his arm on the side of the tub. “Us,” he answers. “Being parents.”  

There’s an understated sense of anticipation in his tone that he still hasn’t been able to put into words. A small hint of apprehension lingers too, but the type that propels as opposed to paralyzes. 

You hum as you run a wet hand over your glistening stomach. 

“I love you,” he continues softly. “I love her.”

He reaches out to splay his large hand over your stomach. You smile as he continues talking, “Love that I get to do this with you.” 

Fondness swells in your chest all the more. Like a third lung set on sustaining you too. 

“I’d kiss you right now, but I don’t know how,” you admit. 

Without hesitating, Frankie shifts so he’s able to steady your chin and press his lips to yours. You lift a hand to rest the tips of your fingers against his scruffy cheek. Frankie hums when you ghost your tongue along his lower lip, only to pull away like you have something to say. Before you can speak, he presses back in for one more soft peck, then touches his forehead to yours. 

You feel yourself smiling. “What I was trying to say,” you start, but Frankie kisses you again because you’re right there, and because he can.

Butterflies erupt all throughout your stomach. 

“Go ahead,” he finally coaxes with a small smile, lips brushing yours. “What were you gonna say, hermosa?” There’s a gruff, honeyed quality to his voice that you’re certain is intentional. 

“That I love you too,” you whisper. 

-

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

FRANKIE MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[agathasfamiliar]

hi!! I just found your blog, can I request g!p detective!agatha railing reader in a missionary position and has a bulge kink (poking the bear🤭🏃‍♀️)

thank you so much for this request it was very fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!

fuck the police:

detective agnes o'connor x fem!reader

You fucked up and finally got caught for your long-running streak of graffiti artistry. What's worse than being arrested, however? Being interrogated by the one detective in town who causes you to question your all out hatred for the profession.

word count: 6.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, agnes is trans/intersex/has a penis, penis in vagina sex, power bottom!reader, service top!agnes (but agnes still needs a little control of course), handcuffs, breeding kink, bulge kink, agnes loves reader's tits, smut

author's note: trans butch agnes, my beloved. also i probably could've done more research into a more realistic set up/i know this isn't how someone being arrested/interrogated would work but it's porn so...hopefully you can look past that

You never thought you’d find yourself here, arrested and waiting to be questioned for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, your graffiti art has steadily risen in popularity over the last few months, ever since one particularly evocative piece got featured on the local news and allegedly inspired a number of protests throughout the city of Westview.

Not that you had anything to do with that.

The police department has issued several requests for information on you, even offering a pretty handsome reward for the proven identity of “Hex”, the name you tag every piece with. A rumor has even reached your ears about a copycat artist getting arrested over in Eastview. Serves them right for using your signature, but it at least has kept the feds off your trail for a bit. 

Admittedly, you’d gotten cocky thinking you could get away with tagging the squad car stationed at the busiest intersection in town. In your defense, it had looked empty. How were you supposed to know the deputy on duty was napping in the back seat? You’d made it halfway through the looping pink pig face you were sprawling across the windshield before he woke up and chased you down four blocks.

If you were wearing your usual running shoes instead of having slipped on an old pair of slides in your rush out of the house, you probably would’ve outrun the middle-aged cop chasing you, another mistake you won’t make again.

  Now, you sit shivering in nothing but a sheer white tank top and sweatpants so spattered in all the vibrant colors of your, now confiscated, cans of spray paint, that you can’t even remember what color the pants originally were. You weren’t an idiot, you had a black hoodie on when you went out to do your work, but the rookie cop that booked you at the station also insisted on taking your sweatshirt for “evidence”.

You’re pretty sure he just wanted to see you suffer in the refrigerator-like temperature they keep the precinct at, clearly only recently having graduated the academy and already taking a shine to abusing his power. Pigs, indeed. 

The interrogation room they brought you to well over 30 minutes ago sits at the very back of the building, a windowless box that somehow looks and smells both musty and sterile. A large one-way mirror covers the wall opposite the door, the only noise in the confined space being the tick-tick-tick of the clock above it that reads just past midnight.

You rattle the short chain connecting your handcuffed wrists to a bar on the heavy metal table in front of you, just to disrupt the suffocating silence. Have you seriously been forgotten here?

Just as you have that thought, as if summoning another person into existence with it, the door, opposite the corner where you sit, opens briskly. 

Twin sighs of irritation drop from both your mouth and the supposed detective’s as she enters. You can’t make out too many details of her appearance at first because of the dim lighting that mostly just illuminates the table you sit at, as well as the fact that she has her head down looking over what you assume is your intake forms. 

“I want a lawyer.” Are the first words out of your mouth once the woman has turned to shut the door behind her.

“Ha!” She laughs dryly and it has you simmering with rage already, but something about it also sounds familiar.

 “Well, sweetie,” The still concealed detective continues as she finally steps into the light, “not likely to find a public defender that’s available at this hour, but if you insist on staying overnight…” She trails off amusedly, finally stepping into the light and causing your prepared reply to die in your throat as you connect the recognition of the voice with the blue eyes that meet yours.

“Detective O’Connor.” You greet, trying to keep your tone even. 

Fuck.

Of fucking course, of all the detectives in the goddamn city, this is who had to come question you. The same detective you’ve served coffee to every morning for the better part of three years at your shitty cafe day job. The same detective who barely acknowledges your existence, but when her fingers brush yours as you pass her usual over the counter, you think about it for the rest of the day. The detective you berate yourself for fantasizing about, because she’s everything you despise and your friends would never let you hear the end of it if they found out, especially with how often you’re spouting your “radical” political beliefs (not that you see them that way.)

Detective Agnes fucking O’Connor…

This is not how you imagined it would look if you ever got her in a room alone.

“Huh? Do I know you?” She questions, almost offended, and now you’re the one to let out a dry laugh.

“Here, let me help jog your memory.” You say, picking up the small, paper cup of water that had been left on the table for you in one bound hand, holding it aloft and reciting her order.

 “One large hot coffee with two sugars and half a pump of vanilla.”

She looks unaffected at your display, only raising both eyebrows once in sudden recognition before sauntering over to the chair on the other side of the table and sitting down casually. 

“Impressive, that how you’ve avoided custody so long? Charming Westview’s finest by memorizing their coffee orders?” Her questions are laced with condescension.

“Nope, just yours. Why? Is it working?” You smirk despite your better judgment. You hadn’t planned to try the flirting route to get out your charges, but hey, the best schemes have an element of truth to them. Plus, if this is the only chase you’ll have to speak to the detective alone, you might as well make the most of it. 

She doesn’t answer, instead leaning back in the rickety metal chair that lets out a squeal at the motion. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that’s tied low at the base of her skull. Blue flannel sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and it’s all you can do not to think about tracing your tongue over the veins that snake over her strong forearms.

The jeans she’s wearing strain with the way she sits, legs spread apart, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from letting out a gasp when you notice how it puts the delicious outline of what’s beneath the denim on display. Fuck, you do not need to be thinking about straddling the woman where she sits and grinding down against her bulge right now, but you are anyway.

Mercifully, she leans forward again in the seat to ask another question and the view is gone. You need to focus if you’re going to get out of this without incriminating yourself.

“What were you doing tonight?” She asks flatly, getting down to business. You know better than to provide anything resembling an answer, true or false.

“This whole thing seems pretty excessive, all things considered. I mean, an interrogation? Really, Agnes?” Her first name slips out before you can catch it, but you don’t really care.

“Just answer the question. And it’s Detective.” The flare of anger in her eyes only spurs you on.

“Sorry, Detective Agnes,” you correct yourself, purposefully using her name this time, just to see that flash of heat again. 

“If you were so curious about where I was tonight you could’ve just asked me out.” Now that you’ve opened the floodgates, the suggestive remarks just keep coming out.

For Agnes’ part, she remains still and draws in an angry breath. Her blue eyes blaze with irritation at your lack of cooperation more than the intrigue you were hoping for, but that just means you’ll have to turn up the dial on this improvised plan you’ve laid out for yourself. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Listen, if you’re going to keep wasting my time I’ll just lock you up now and wait ‘til morning.” She threatens with a glowering expression, voice raising every few words in an attempt to intimidate. It’s kind of cute, actually. 

You think she might hear just how her phrasing comes out and anticipate your next response, because she almost looks remorseful. The slightest pink tone that rises to her cheeks and the way she pokes her tongue out to wet her bottom lip when her eyes flick down to your barely covered chest don’t escape your careful observations either. 

“Ooo,” you start, falsely scandalized, “now you want me to spend the night?” A slight giggle escaping you at your own words and the way you lift your handcuffed wrists in front of you playfully. 

With the action, you’re sure to press your biceps against either side of your body to even more obviously display your tits, and she can’t help but look down with the movement, eyes raking over your nipples that stand at attention beneath the thin fabric in the cold space.

Heat is practically rolling off her in waves and you can’t tell for sure if it’s arousal or fury that is threatening to boil over, or what will happen when it does, but you have always been the type to take risks. Why stop now?

“Can’t you just get me off with a warning? I mean- let me off…” You ask before she can recover from your last question, attempting a simper at the intentional slip up in your speech. 

It seems that this is what finally pushes her over the edge as she slams her hands loudly against the metal table and stands up, causing it to vibrate with the impact. Her chair goes clattering to the ground behind her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The satisfied expression you wear drops for a second at the forceful display, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Alright, that’s enough!” She shouts, leaning over so you can practically feel her breath on your face before she rounds the table quickly.

“Do you really wanna keep poking the bear?!” She asks, furious, now standing at your right side and heavily folding at the waist to shout into your ear. 

You have to lean away slightly at the volume that threatens to burst your eardrum and it provides just enough space to look the detective up and down where she stands. 

That’s when you see it. 

Unmistakable and pressing against the zipper of her jeans so forcefully that it’s a wonder they haven’t burst; Detective O’Connor is hard. 

You can’t drag your eyes away from the tented fabric, so obvious that it nearly casts a shadow onto the denim in the odd light of the room. As you are still seated, you’re practically at the perfect level to just lean over and mouth the length through her pants. It’s all you can do not to let your head dip where it wants to most, as if you’re a magnet being drawn by its opposite charge.

“I- uh.” You stutter, unsure of your words for the first time since she walked in. The amount of saliva that has accumulated in your mouth at the sight in front of you forces you to swallow before you speak again.

“I think I’d rather have the bear poke me.” You breathe, sounding wrecked just at the thought.

When you finally drag your gaze back up to hers, her face is burning red, but this time you can tell it is much more out of embarrassment than anger. She looks self conscious in a way you’ve never seen and it’s so, so pretty. 

“It’s okay I c-” You start, reaching out uselessly in your confines, but you’re cut off from your attempt at a rare comforting word when Agnes seizes your right shoulder and lifts you to your feet. She then immediately folds you over and presses you against the table on your stomach, handcuffed hands pinned beneath your chest. You let out a grunt at the forceful action as well as the freezing cold metal that almost stings your skin that has warmed at your flirting.

The position is much like the one you were put in a few hours ago upon your arrest, only now it causes you to ache with desire instead of seeth with fury. 

“You think this is funny?!” She questions, but it sounds strained and unsure. Your own hesitance at her intentions keeps you from muttering out that it’s actually not funny, it’s really fucking hot.

It dawns on you then that she probably turned you over like this so you aren’t able to see the blush that’s probably still spreading over her skin, or the bulge in her pants that’s no doubt only getting worse, especially with how you purposefully arch your back in her grasp.

She has you pinned beneath her hands, one still on your shoulder and the other holding your waist, the perfect placement for her to pull you back against her. Instead, a shaky breath sounds from behind you. It seems like she’s deciding what to do next and you can almost feel the heat radiating from between her hips that begs her to choose the option you’re hoping for too.

You start pressing back yourself, impatient and using any amount of leverage possible to reach your destination. To help her decide.

“Come on, detective. Let me help you out.” You nearly whisper in the most convincing and sweet voice you can muster. Her hands loosen ever so slightly at the soft sound and you use the opportunity to slide the last inch backwards, your ass just barely brushing her front, aware also that if she had wanted to stop you she would’ve easily been able to.

You feel the hardness and heat of her cock against you through both your clothing and nearly release a whimper at the sensation, at the idea of her finally being inside you like you’ve fantasized about so many times. 

Just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again. Her hands release you entirely and she steps away without a word, leaving you feeling even colder than the steel table you’re slumped against. You drop your head to the metal in defeat. That’s it, you think. Your efforts haven't worked and you’re not only going to spend the night in a cell, but you’re going to do so while very uncomfortably wet and wound up. Plus, she’s probably going to try to add attempted bribery or harassment to your charge sheet. God, this was a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just gotten some old guy detective whose questions you would have dodged coldly and without a second thought?

All these thoughts flash through your head in the few seconds it takes Agnes to step away from the table and turn you by the hips to face her, the chain keeping you there being just long enough to allow such movement. 

You look down immediately, as if out of instinct, to find the large bulge still present, possibly even more so somehow. A bolt of desire strikes through your core at the small dark spot you notice has formed on the crotch of the already dark jeans. The evidence of your effect threatens to turn your legs to jelly. Finally, your eyes raise to meet Agnes’ with a curiosity, who stands less than a foot from you, hands still holding your hips loosely. The thrill of not knowing what she’ll do next makes your already racing heart beat even faster.

You find that she looks as weak as you feel, drinking you in like you’re an ice cold glass of water she’s found in the middle of the sahara. It’s clear that she’s used up every last thread of restraint she has to resist your offer, and it still has proven to be insufficient. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed by blown black pupils that bore into you as she speaks her resignation to her rapturous fate.

“If I’m gonna fuck you,” she breathes the words out like she’s just run a marathon, “it’s gonna be while looking at those pretty tits.”

You lean back into the table in favor of collapsing straight to the floor at those words. How is this actually happening?

Seeing you stumble into the table, her right hand shifts down to your thigh and lifts, helping you to sit on the ledge as she steps closer to let your knees bracket her body. She looks so much more confident in this moment, and not in the same stone-faced way she had while you prodded at her before. It brings a soft smile to your lips and she looks away, somewhat coyly, at your noticing. It’s hard to decide if you prefer her shy or assertive.  

Blunt nails graze gently over your covered thighs, to your hips, then your waist, before finally settling over your scarcely contained breasts. Your own sharp intake of breath meets your ears as you lean into the warm touch and she squeezes them with a smirk playing on her lips.

  “I might not remember your face…” she rasps, leaning to speak directly into your right ear, “but I definitely remember these.” Both thumbs move to brush over your already pebbled nipples, causing them to harden further. You roll your eyes, both at the comment and at the thread of pleasure that tugs right from where she touches you all the way down to your pulsing clit.

For all the humor in it, you can’t help but notice just how sincere her comment sounds and flashes run through your mind of every low cut top you’ve ever worn to work, wondering which one’s are her favorite.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You exhale with a chuckle against her cheek, momentarily forgetting your binds and trying to reach around her shoulders to pull her closer. The chain rattles loudly and you jerk with the reminder of your limited movement.

Agnes shakes her head and laughs at your needy but firm command as well as your inability to move.

“Here, let me.” She continues laughing gently as she reaches for the key ring you somehow hadn’t yet noticed swinging from her hip. 

“No.” You blurt before you can think better of it. 

“Leave them.” 

It’s a daring statement and you run your tongue across your teeth mischievously while the implication works its way through the woman’s mind. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth with how hard she bites into it, looking at you in disbelief and utter need. 

“Fuck,” is all she says, dropping the keys back to her side and moving instead to undo her belt with a clumsy haste. 

You would be scrambling to remove your own pants as well, not wanting to waste anymore time, but your own request has left you unable to do so. Instead, you’re left in awe as the black leather belt is unlatched and left hanging loosely open while Agnes works at her zipper. Even less is left to the imagination when denim is pulled aside to reveal cotton boxer briefs protruding with the tension of her arousal.

Her cock is pressing tautly against the soft, grey material and the way the underwear clings to her body causes you to gape at the implication of how much the secure garment is still concealing. 

The dark spot you’d noticed on her jeans is even darker and more centralized to its origin on the grey cloth. Saliva fills your mouth again at the sight, the only thing better than seeing her from beneath that last layer of clothing will be when it is finally removed.

As if reading your mind and wanting you to suffer a moment long, she pauses her motions of undressing any further. Before you can argue or make a snide remark, her hands are on your own waistband, tugging the paint-covered article down as much as she can while you’re still seated. You can’t very well lift yourself with your hands at the moment, so you slip off the table quickly to help get them the rest of the way down, hopping back up just as swiftly and letting her pull them off your legs, shoes falling to the floor one by one in the process. 

The cold table under your mostly bare ass draws the breath from you momentarily, only a black pair of boyshorts now protecting you from the metal.

“Do you ever wash these?” Agnes asks down at the rainbow vomit littering your clothing before dropping the pants to the floor, a real dry humor in her voice replacing the stern, mocking one from when she first entered the room.

“What’s the point?” You ask, because seriously, why would you wash them if you’re just going to get paint all over them again?

“Do you answer every question with a question?” She fires back, moving back between your knees from where she’d stepped back to help undress you. Her fingers play again at her own waistband, dipping into them slightly before meeting your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“Do you always stall like this when a girl wants you to fill her pussy?” You ask with an exaggerated expression of curiosity, as if you are genuinely awaiting the answer and not just communicating your impatience. 

Her cheeks pink again at the response, any clever comebacks quickly forgotten. You remove your gaze from her face and shift it back to her arousal to allow her to blush in private.

In your peripheral vision, you see her eyes flick up to watch your face as she dips her left hand into her underwear and grasps herself so gently, right hand pushing the material down to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

You’re first met with a mess of dark curls that trail all the way up to her belly button, which you only catch a quick glimpse of with the way her shirt momentarily gets caught by her arm. You stifle a moan at the reveal of her thick cock; rock hard, reddened and still beading pre-cum, as you saw evidenced on the front of her jeans and underwear.

Now you slightly regret having her leave the cuffs on, as you long to reach out and take the length in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. Heat takes your face at the idea of getting on your knees before the detective and gagging on her length, and now you’re the one blushing and biting your lip.

Painfully tearing your eyes from the beautiful sight to catch Agnes’ expression, you find her still looking for your reaction. She finds exactly what she’s looking for in the way your eyes soften and you use one finger, your hands still bound at the wrists and settled in front of your chest, to beckon her forward.

Loose strands of brown hair that have escaped her messily tied back tendrils brush the side of your face as she leans in close to catch your message.

“I need your cock inside me, detective.” You husk, more than speak, into her ear, the lust dripping from the title she insisted on minutes ago causing a physical and auditory shudder through the woman. Looking back down, you see Agnes stroke herself once, as if your words have rendered her unable to resist.

Maybe she notices that you’re about to make a comment about it, because in one swift motion Agnes’ right hand flies up to your left shoulder, shifting you fully to your back on the table. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, metal tabletop clattering at the impact and drowning out the sound. Just as quickly as you’ve adjusted to your new position, you’re being pulled by the thighs to the very edge of the table and towards exactly what you want, Agnes then guiding you to wrap your spread legs around her hips for support.

“You need this, huh?” She asks, hungrily looking over your body from her new perspective. You’re about to answer her question with your own when she slowly and teasingly drags the head of her cock from your clit to your entrance, over your underwear. Her timing is getting a little too convenient.

You groan at the feeling of your own wetness being pressed against you by her hardness. It makes you ache knowing it’s so close to being consumed by your heat, only a thin shield of fabric left between you. If you had full range of motion of your hands, you would have already ripped the rest of your clothing off, but the quick and dirty way you’re both still mostly clothed almost turns you on more. 

Desperate to maintain the dizzying contact, your hips grind upward as your legs become a vice, pulling her ever closer. The clear enthusiasm only spurs her on, gliding back up and down again, circling your clit three times with her cock on the last pass until you're squirming beneath her and hopelessly trying to contain your whimpering. You would rather wait a lifetime for your orgasm than beg a cop.

You’re so sopping wet, though, that when you look down between your bodies you can see the way her cock shines with your arousal despite not having yet made full contact. It’s almost too much to bear, your clit throbbing in time with your pounding pulse. Something has to give or you’re soon going to be a blabbering mess. 

“Just fuck me, Agnes!” You bark out, hips rising insistently and your voice verging on a whine.

The room goes still for a moment, even the clock ticking away on the wall seems to pause for dramatic effect as she quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head dangerously at your outburst. That same feeling from before washes over you, when you thought you might’ve really fucked up, but it only lasts for half a second before a hand is shoving your ruined underwear to one side and you feel the tip of her resting at your entrance.

Your eyes meet her blue ones, which are actually still mostly black, especially in this light. They burn into you like before and you don’t know whether her silence is a good or bad thing. 

You draw in your own shaky breath, waiting for her next move, and on the exhale she sheathes herself to the hilt inside of you.

Even she can’t contain her half of the guttural growl that comes from both of you at the perfect feeling. You don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about just how fucking soaked you are that she was able to slide all the way in with one thrust, because the way her cock is filling you up so completely has rendered every other thought irrelevant.

A moment passes where you both breathe, adjusting to the stretch and squeeze respectively. You feel her throb once within you and think, at this point, with enough determination, you could come just from that small amount of friction.

You don’t need that determination, though. As if mocking that passing thought, Agnes skips any unnecessary build up and starts at a positively bruising pace. Just one moment ago she was panting over you, looking like she might not even make it two thrusts in before unraveling, and now she’s slamming into you with a literally breathtaking force.

No intelligible noises are able to come out of your throat at first, only broken, reedy gasps. Your eyes roll back in your head as the glorious, slapping sounds of your joining sexes fill your ears. Her length jabs over and over again at the perfect spot inside you, just where you need her. 

Doing your best to focus your vision, you look up to see the red face of a woman clearly holding on to her composure for dear life. Her finger nails are short, but still able to bite into your hips ever so slightly as she practically slides you up and down along the table while also moving against you herself, which deepens her thrusts even more.

This also seemingly provides quite the show for Agnes, who you observe is splitting her time between watching your face contorting with pleasure, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy, and most of all, the way your tits are bouncing considerably with her every movement.

“You like these? You should fuck them.” You make out between gasping breaths, nodding down at your own chest.

Agnes takes a moment to respond, her laser focus causing her to not even register your words at first. When she does however, and notices your gesturing, her thrusting falters only for a moment, as if the idea alone has made her nearly swoon with desire. Crystal irises scan you over again and you can tell she’s thinking about it by the way her eyebrows knit together in a desperate sort of way.

“Maybe next time.” She decides, smirking down at you and ramming herself into you particularly hard once before returning to her rhythm, while her left hand comes up to grip your right breast greedily.

“Mmn- next time?” You ask around a moan, trying not to sound too hopeful, but it’s also such an unexpected sentiment from the detective you can’t help but question her further.

“I’d bet good money this won’t be your last arrest,” is all she says to satisfy your curiosity. While it’s also a subtle dig at your evading skills, your imagination still runs wild with the unspoken promise of how a future slip-up might turn out for you. It almost makes you want to get caught again.

“Right, because you’d love to f-fuck, fuck! Oh my god!” Your response turns into a moaning curse when her hand shoots down from playing with your tits so her thumb can land firmly on your clit and press down with flawless pressure, never letting up consistently filling you in the process. 

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..” The mantra spills from your lips while your orgasm mounts within you and you know you’ll be toppling over the edge any minute now.

If your hands were free you would be locking your fingers behind her neck and pulling her even closer to you to ensure you get what you want, but the burn of the metal chafing your wrists is a delicious alternative. The pain only sharpens the pleasure you’re feeling everywhere else and you throb at the idea of waking up tomorrow and seeing angry red and purple bracelets of evidence.

At your emphatic request, she doesn’t stop. You’ve never been so full before and when Agnes’ cock throbs within you after every couple of pumps, stars explode behind your eyes. There’d better be a next time because you’re pretty sure nothing and nobody has or will ever make you feel like this.

“I’m so, so close. Fuck!” You shout, unsure what possesses you to tell her, but her response only drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, fucking come for me. Come on my cock, come on my c-cock…” She huffs, the exertion that you were already impressed with her maintaining finally shows in her voice, but she still never lets up. It almost sounds like she’s begging, a “please” barely contained behind her lips, and that’s what makes you really want to come for her.

Chasing your orgasm, you redouble your efforts of rocking your hips up and it makes her length press even more fully against your front wall until you’re practically screaming with pleasure. The new angle caused by your rocking coupled with the way your walls are tightening around her in anticipation of your release is also clearly doing something for Agnes.

Her breaths are coming in short puffs and she is completely unable to stifle the loud whimper that bursts out of her when you clench around her even harder, your orgasm just seconds away.

That’s what finally does it, that mewl that you were able to pull from the tough detective. It sends you flying, every muscle tenses and wave after wave of pleasure causes you to buck against the table and Agnes, but she holds you firmly in place, fucking you through it and moaning herself the whole time as she marvels at your release. The aftershocks go on for what feels like forever while you float in your euphoria, never wanting it to end.

After your release, Agnes’ thrusts quickly become short and frantic, almost rutting into you with a fervor. The throbs you’ve felt are coming on every pump and you’re content to lie back in your blissed out state and let her take whatever she wants, until she starts to pull out of you, one trembling hand releasing your hip and clearly intent on finishing herself off. 

You’re suddenly more lucid than ever, quickly locking your ankles behind her from where they’d fallen limp, and shoving her back into you until she bottoms out. A surprised breath leaves her at the action, a sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead as she stutters out her reasoning.

“I-I’m gonna-” She can’t even get the words out and it’s the second time in so many minutes that you feel your heart squeeze at just how adorable this usually grave woman is. 

“I know, I know. Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is thick with desire and you’re still lingering bliss, the pet name slipping out like water, but you need her to know just how badly you want it.

Her eyes widen slightly as a deeper blush somehow takes over her already red face, unsure but so very full of want. You feel her twitch within you despite herself and her hips roll just at the words. 

You don’t break eye contact, making clear how serious you are to quell her doubt.

Tentatively, after a beat, she starts up a slower pace, pulling almost out of you before thrusting all the way back in, like she’s giving herself time to think again.

“You can do it baby, I know you want to. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” You gasp out the words while she fucks back into your pussy and you think you could come again just from the way she looks at you when you say them.

You repeat your cooing encouragements and it doesn’t even take three more of those slow thrusts before she falters and stays sheathed inside you, rutting weakly. 

“Come on, baby.” You repeat, and you know she’s done.

More of those beautiful whimpers fall from her lips as you feel one stronger throb and then warmth explodes into your walls. You can’t help but moan yourself at the feeling of being filled by her. Spurt after spurt of her cum coats your insides while she holds you tighter and tighter, as if you’ll float away if she lets go. Her desperate moans die down eventually and she slumps against you, still inside, and draws in one big breath before releasing it slowly. Her eyes are screwed shut and her head is now resting against your restrained hands on your chest. 

It’s probably good they're restrained, you think, because if they weren’t you’d be having a very hard time resisting running your fingers through her long hair, tenderly scratching your nails against the nape of her neck.

Another beat passes where the two of you breath against one another and come down from your respective highs. The delicious mix of your and Agnes’ cum has started to drip out of you onto the table below and it’s a hot enough thought that your sensitive clit gives a weak twitch and you clench around Agnes unintentionally, causing her to crane her neck to look up at you.

Her eyes are clear again and softer than you’ve ever seen them; you let your coursing endorphins carry you away on a cloud of imagining leaning the six inches it would take to capture her lips in yours, but you don’t dare actually do it.

She starts to shift, maybe shaking herself from some similar thought, you can’t tell. Her soft sex pulls out of you slowly as she pushes up on her hands and waits for you to release her from the grip your legs still have her in. You unsteadily unravel yourself from her, shuddering slightly at the loss and trying not to think about how empty you feel without her.

Now free, she tucks herself back into her briefs and makes quick work of finally undoing your cuffs. Her hands rub at the raw skin absently, using her hold there to pull you into a seated position. She then reaches down for the balled-up mess you call a pair of pants and slides them back onto your trembling legs easily. After you’re relatively put back together, cum still leaking out and coating your already ruined underwear, she looks you over once more with hunger along with something else you can’t place. 

She looks thoughtful, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, instead letting a sly smile pull at her mouth and a different comment sneak through with a soft laugh.

“Consider that your warning.”

[revelboo]

I'm in love with Metroplex because of you 🫵. This man, I just can't...Thank you for your work! It's all beautiful. It really made me happy in a difficult moment 💗

I’m glad my writing could help! Metroplex has been a fun storyline to write, though I was really intimidated by the request when I first got it. Had no idea how to make it work

I Can Feel You Pt 18

Metroplex x Reader

• “Little city speaker.” There’s a weight against you and you sleepily look up at the familiar pulse of his spark high above you. Imagining that it’s the same rhythm as your heartbeat as impossible as that is. One drone’s head is laying on your belly, the other two at your sides, arms draped across you like warm, living weighted blankets. And you have no idea which one he’s speaking through, unable to tear your eyes from his spark. From that mesmerizing light and warmth.

• “Is that an official title?” One of the Autobots had joking called you that once. And you’ve felt purposeless for so long among the Autobots. Too little to help anyone, only getting in the way. But you’d helped Metroplex. Want to continue to help him, to be his voice since he’s still reluctant to talk to anyone else even through his drones.

• “A Titan needs his city speaker,” he replies, reaching with Six Gun’s hand to cup your cheek. “His voice.” Doesn’t want anyone else to fill that role, only you. And it lets him keep you close. Keep you safe. Isn’t sure how much you know about Cybertronians. Has anyone explained about their sparks to you? About spark bonds? Doubts it, but isn’t sure how to broach the subject. How to ask even more of you than you’ve already given him. It seems so greedy, but he can’t stop thinking of it. Wondering if you’d accept all of him. “I need you.”

• Heart warming at words, you feel Scamper shift against you. Resting his chin on you and looking up your body. It’s a funny feeling knowing this is him. All three drones Metroplex. And that you’re inside him at the same time. Feeling the words you want to say right there on the tip of your tongue and your own uncertainty holding you back. Know that he cares for you, but also that he’s ancient. That your life is probably a blink to him and that fills you with an aching sorrow. Because that must be so lonely. Hound has once told you that Metroplex was the last surviving Titan. That’s what makes you want to say it. To make sure he knows. “I love you.”

• For a moment he loses the connection to his drones, so startled by your words. Because it’s what he’d wanted, but hadn’t dared hope for. Knows everything about him must be so strange and unsettling to you, but you’ve stayed by him all along. Kept reaching out and trying to help him again and again. And those words mean everything to him. Wrapping all three drones around you, holding you the only way he can. “I love you, too, little one.” Wants to bond you so badly, but doesn’t want to rush you. You have time now to get to know each other, though he already knows you so well.

Previous

[colorlessjay]

hello! may be a weird request but do you have any fanfic recommendations?

BUCKLE THE FUCK UP

OH DO I HAVE SOME RECS FOR YA'LL

Mind you, 90% are based on personal preference and fics I think about way too often than I should. A lot of them influenced the way I make characters interact

Some of them might not be your taste and that's cool!

First off, Gotta promote the fics that people wrote inspired by my art (I am truly honored)

Time Cast A Spell On You by bethefirstwhoeverdid

Cabin of Feathers by Featherpie (Izupie)

Return To The Past by faeryn

NOW FOR MY COLLECTION

Just any fic written by everandanon

I swear to you, all of their fics are worth a read. They are frustrating (In a good way for me) but the worldbuilding, comedy, dialogue, and character interactions always have me physically getting up and laughing. At one point during Quarentantion, I had to stop reading to rant to my friends about it because it made me feel so much that I went to 3 different friends about it. With Interest actually made my heart physically hurt at certain points. Expectations had me on a roller coaster ride But if you think their fics are a little overwhelming, I recommend reading Casicorn. It's the first ever fic I read from them and it solidified my love for this author. I swear I am on my hands and KNEES waiting for them to finish their newest fic

Where All My Journeys End - (a Twist and Shout alt universe) by Say_It_In_Enochian

Did reading Twist and Shout devastate you? Did it emotionally hurt your heart and make you wish there was something to make the pain lighter? READ THIS FUCKING FIC NOW I got so fucking lucky when I found it immediately after reading T&S and when I tell you the JOURNEY this fic took me? It healed my soul The struggles, the history, the relationships, the LONG fight to get to their happy ending I am FLOORED this doesn't have 1000 Kudos!

The Ed Sheeran Effect by tricia_16

It made me laugh. That's it. It's sweet and funny and really fun and just feels very campy, like it could've been a decent movie I would rewatch on days I just feel like feeling good Am I a sucker for HighSchool/College AU fics? Yes do I fucking care? No

The Best Years of Our Lives, My Ass by ireallyhatecornnuts (CharleyFoxtrot)

I. fucking. love. this. fic The story alone was so interesting but it was the DIALOGUE that hooked me in. I swear I think about this fic in the middle of drawing and go "Damn, good times" like it's a long lost friend

Slide Away by Castielslostwings

It's the TENSION that got me. I can't explain to you how much I just love their hate-pining for each other Read it, love it, in my digital bookshelf

Sleep Without You by turningthepages

Hilarious. The density is so high it could float. I swear to god I've read this fic at least three times and think about it once a week I remember reading it and cackling so much that I woke up my mom

Should've Just Asked by Annie D (scaramouche)

I wish this fic had a follow-up that was just Dean's perspective because I would LOVE to read more of it. The situation is so absurd and I binged it all in one day (I'm a very slow reader)

Pinfall by crowleyo

I'm gonna say it. I'm so actually angry this fic doesn't get enough attention. It is so so SO well-written and heart-wrenching. Am I still a sucker for highschool sweethearts? YES! I OPENLY ADMIT THIS! But COME ON

Of fuming and partaking and so on by zation

This fic and literally any fic from Zation. I absolutely love the way this author writes. It's so funny and self-aware and the dialogue and scenarios always keep me entertained and laughing They have such a large catalog of fics that I'm pretty sure I have at least 15 saved on my phone

Mr. Blue Sky by anyrei, queerwolf79

This fic specifically and literally ANYTHING from these two. I swear, a lot of their fics are certified bangers. Mr. Blue Sky is probably a personal favorite of mine cause I actually teared up

Love Me More by Saiorse_Irvyne

I'm not the biggest fan of A/B/O stuff, but MAN this has me feeling things. When a fic makes me feel strong emotions, I just gotta recommend it

Lock and Key by tricia_16

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH it's THAT good

Kind Of A Forever Deal by komodobits

It's FUN. It's FUNNY. It's so fucking campy and cute and the progression of their relationship was just AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It's Always the End of the World Somewhere by Annie D (scaramouche)

I can sit here and recommend Annie D's fics all DAY, but I'm recommending this one specifically because of this: “Get a room, assholes,” someone mutters. “Hey!” Crowley whirls on the offender. “I could set on you on fire!” And that's one of many fantastic quotes

Cinderwings by bendingsignpost

One of the first fics I've ever read from this fandom, and I recommend it to ANYONE regardless of whether they know Destiel or not. The story is so fucking captivating it makes me want to eat my foot it's so GOOD

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

Do I have a type when it comes to fanfics? Yes

But I like gravitating towards funny dialogue and silly shenanigans. I thrive off of fun fics that sometimes take themselves seriously, but still pull me back and make me laugh

If a fic can make me feel such a strong emotion that I PHYSICALLY have to get up? Then fuck yeah it's going in my archives

I would recommend some of the darker fics I have, but this is for fun

[archangeldyke-all]

hii idk if you’re still writing the cowboy sevika fics but i’m actually obsessed with them you have no idea!! anyway i was thinking a fluffy little fic about sevika being depressed after shimmers death and reader, vi, and jinx do their best to cheer her up/support her!! do whatever you want i’ll literally take anything i just love your characters so much🙏🙏

YEEHAWWWW i miss cowboy sevika

men and minors dni

it's been a month since you and your girls buried shimmer by your garden. not a night has passed where sevika hasn't cried herself to sleep in your arms. it's breaking your heart.

watching shimmer die was hard enough. you were never much of a horse person before meeting sevika's trusty mare, but shimmer converted you. before sevika settled down with you; one of your greatest comforts when she was out wandering the desert was that she had shimmer there with her. the horse was so in tune with sevika, and they'd been riding together for so long, that they practically moved as one. you worried less about sevika losing her mind when she had shimmer to listen to her rambling. you worried less about her losing her life when she had shimmer to run her back home to you if she ever got too beat up.

and as sweet as sevika is when she claims you're her best friend-- you know that title really belongs to shimmer.

"we should do somethin' for sev." vi mumbles one night. jinx is fast asleep between the pair of you, after insisting she wasn't tired for an hour straight.

"like what?" you ask.

vi shrugs. "cait and her dad go hunting sometimes."

you giggle. "you're crazy if you think we're giving jinx a gun."

vi laughs. "no, no, we wouldn't hunt. we could just, y'know, go camping or something. there are some cold springs thirty miles west of here."

"and how would we get there without a horse?"

"we could borrow one of grayson's." vi suggests.

you smile and turn to face her. "you've been planning this?" you ask. she smiles guiltily.

"sevika's just been so sad. i wanna cheer her up."

your heart bursts with love and you dart forward, squeezing jinx between your body and vi's as you attempt to hug her. vi giggles. jinx wakes up with an annoyed groan.

so, a week later, you, your wife, and your girls set out with a horse drawn wagon and one of grayson's newest additions: a young colt named 'teddy.' grayson was happy to lend you the horse, muttering something about him being a pain in the ass to train. "if there's anyone i know who can get through to a stubborn horse like teddy, it's sevika." she sighed.

the ride out to the springs is rocky and bumpy, sevika getting used to riding a horse that isn't shimmer-- teddy being an ass just for the hell of it. at least the girls find it fun. their giggles and squeals are the soundtrack for your entire ride to the springs. even with all the curses she's spewing at teddy, sevika looks more relaxed than she has in weeks back on top of a horse.

"what're we even gonna do once we get there?" jinx asks. you snort and ruffle her bangs.

"well, i'm going swimming. you losers can do whatever you want." you say. the girls giggle.

"do you think there are cliffs we can jump off of?" vi asks. you shrug.

"i'm sure we can find some. we've got a whole river to explore."

"none of you are doing any exploring until we set up camp and get a fire going." sevika huffs from on top of teddy's back.

"boo! boring." jinx whines.

'setting up camp' ends up being sevika building the tent and jinx feeding teddy while you and vi attempt to make a fire the old fashioned way.

"how did the cavemen ever do this?" vi huffs as she rubs two sticks together. you snort.

"i'm sure they had tools. blubber to make it catch better, or something."

vi rolls her eyes. "i don't understand why she won't just give us her lighter."

you laugh and look up at sevika as she wipes her sweaty brow. "she doesn't trust us not to burn down the whole riverbed."

"or she's just bossy." vi mutters. you cackle.

"i think you're right, kid."

you don't make it into the river on your first night, but you don't mind much. when the sun sets, the heat of summer fades and the cool dark forces you all to squish together on a log in front of the fire while sevika cooks up beans and weenies on the fire.

"is that a planet or a star?" vi asks. jinx looks up and hums.

"i think it's venus."

"yeah?"

"i think so. sev?" jinx asks.

sevika glances up at the sky, smiling proudly and ruffling jinx's bangs. "you nailed it, kiddo."

"what constellations are out tonight, sev?" jinx asks, tucking herself under your wife's arm. sevika hums, leaning back to study the sky.

you don't bother to look at the sky. pretty as the stars are, they're nothing compared to the sight of your three girls, cuddled together and illuminated in the firelight.

"follow my finger. you see those three stars close together?" sevika whispers, her voice melding with the crackle of the fire and the roar of the river.

"yeah." vi whispers. jinx nods against sevika's shoulder.

sevika drags her finger across the sky. "see how they lead into a cross? there?"

"is that the northern cross?" jinx asks. sevika nods, her smile growing.

"you know it. anyways, the cross is in the center of cygnus the swan. backbone of the milky way." sevika's eyes flick down and catch yours, and she smiles shyly. you grin. there are more stars in her eyes than in the whole night sky.

you spend the next day in the river with the girls, laughing and splashing and squealing when fish nibble your ankles. vi and sevika ride upriver to try to find cliffs to jump off of, and you teach jinx how to doggy paddle. when the girls return, they're soaking wet and cackling.

that evening, with the girls fast asleep in the tent, you and sevika smoke a joint and go skinny dipping.

"did you have fun with vi?" you ask, your arms and legs wrapped around your wife. sevika giggles against you.

"i shouldn't tell you." she says. you giggle.

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"means she almost jumped onto some rocks several fucking times. gave me a heart attack."

you groan, shaking your head. "no, you shouldn't've told me." you agree. sevika giggles.

"but, we both lived, didn't we?" she asks. you laugh.

"y'know we're gonna have to adopt teddy from grayson?" you ask. sevika snorts.

"what makes you say that?"

"jinx is obsessed with him. braided and un-braided his mane like six times today. calls him 'teddy bear.' plus..." you trail off.

sevika darts forward to kiss you. you hum against her lips. "plus?" she asks, her lips brushing yours.

"plus, you need a new horse. you look good in the saddle."

sevika hums and kisses you again. "you take such good care of me. how am i supposed to keep up my bandit appearance when i got a wife that talks me into adoptin' horses and takes me out on vacation?"

you laugh. "you haven't been a bandit in half a decade. and the vacation was violet's idea. she was worried about you."

sevika sighs and leans forward to rest her forehead against your shoulder. "you still take good care of me." she says. you kiss her scalp.

"well... y'know. you're my dingus the duck."

"your what?!" sevika asks with a cackle. you groan and shrug.

"i dunno, those stars you were talking about last night!" you whine.

"cygnus the swan!?" she asks. you nod.

"that's the one."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" she asks though her laughs. you snort.

"y'know. you're the backbone of my galaxy, or whatever."

sevika's teasing expression melts, stars sparkling in her eyes. "that's awfully corny, darling." she whispers, her voice shaky with emotion. you smile.

"what the-- what are you two doing?!" vi squawks from the riverbank. you and sevika giggle guiltily, caught by your kids canoodling in the cold springs.

"go back to the tent!" you shout.

"awe, gross, are you guys naked!?" jinx whines.

sevika snorts. "we all bathed together three hours ago!"

"yeah, but you guys weren't all up on each other-- vi, let's go before we overhear something nasty." jinx groans, tugging on her sister's arm.

violet laughs and stumbles behind jinx. "don't drown!" she calls.

taglist!

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taglist!!

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[emsdevs]

I’m a sucker for Angst, so a heaviest of heavy Angst will always do it for me, like I need my insides to feel like it’s being stabbed and overwhelmed with all sort of emotions. Bonus point if it’s long. Hope this isn’t too much to ask for maybe I’m getting too carried away loll Could you do it with Justin Herbert please?

No Strings?

a/n: nonnie you sent this at the perfect time! I've had justin on my schedule for a while, but couldn't figure out what to write for him, so this worked out perfectly! this does not have a happy ending but i might be open to a part two if enough people want it. enjoyyyy :)

masterlist | NFL Masterlists | Justin Herbert Masterlist

You swore you could handle casual. When you started whatever you had going on with Justin, you swore you were the kind of person who could have a casual relationship, but now you aren’t so sure. When Justin asked you out four months ago, you never would’ve expected to be where you are now. It had all been going so well. The dates had been everything you could’ve asked for and more, and Justin was the perfect gentleman. It all began to go downhill after your third date. You had invited Justin into your apartment when he dropped you off, your intentions clear, and he had followed you inside. You two had been sitting on the couch when things began to get serious, the kiss you were sharing heating up.

Justin pulled away, looking slightly guilty. “I feel like I need to be honest with you about something before this goes any further.”

“Um, yeah, okay,” you were a little confused, but you let him speak.

“Look, because of the job I have, I really can’t do anything serious right now. I know I’ve probably led you on a little bit, but I swear I’ve never had any intentions to hurt you,” he stared at you, looking nervous.

“That’s okay!” you speak up too quickly for your liking. “We don’t have to stop unless that’s what you want. I can do casual.” Surely, you could. It couldn’t be that different from a normal relationship.

“You sure? I don’t wanna overstep if casual isn’t something you’re comfortable with.”

“Yeah, of course. No strings attached. Just having fun.”

As Justin leaned back in, you were thinking that this could definitely work. Justin was great, and this would keep him in your life without overstepping any boundaries. You could do casual.

~~

Turns out, you can’t do casual. You’ve been trying to stay normal, but you realized two days ago that you were falling for Justin, hard. You’d been keeping it to yourself, not wanting to scare him away, but it’s getting more and more difficult. He’s just so sweet, and the things he tends to do for you simply cannot be casual.

Is it casual when he plays with the ends of your hair before you get out of bed in the morning? Is it casual for him, even though he keeps all your favorite snacks at his place for when you have movie nights? If it’s casual, why does he keep a drawer free so you have space to keep a few clothes at his place? If it’s casual, why does he know you better than you know yourself? Why has he gotten you your favorite flowers every two weeks since you went on that first date with him? Why does he know “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” is the perfect movie to cheer you up after a long day? If it’s casual for him, why is he acting like he’s in love with you?

Eventually, it had gotten to a point where you couldn’t stand lying to him or yourself anymore. After four months of no strings, you had to talk to him. You finally got the chance one night when he invited you over for a movie night. Before the movie got started, you decided it was time to break the news.

“Justin… I actually think we need to talk,” you wiped your hands on your pants, feeling them already starting to sweat from the nerves.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I just really need to say this, and I know you probably won’t like it, but I need you to listen until I finish,” you pause, waiting for him to nod. “Okay, so, I just feel like we’ve definitely crossed some lines in this arrangement, ya know? Like we both have a drawer at each other’s places. We’re spending the night together, and sometimes, we hang out without even having sex. I just… this isn’t what we originally agreed to,” you were avoiding saying what you were truly feeling.

“So we’ll step back some? I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like something to be worried abou-”

“I caught feelings for you, Justin,” he just stares at you, shocked, “I know we said no feelings, but we’ve just gotten a little too close. We don’t have to stop or anything. I’m a big girl. I can handle-”

“No. No, we should stop,” he cuts you off, and it’s your turn to stare.

“Seriously?”

“We said no strings. I told you I can’t do relationships because of my job. If you have feelings for me, this needs to stop now before it can get worse.”

“Right,” you stood robotically, grabbing your things and walking out of Justin’s house with tears in your eyes. The worst part? He didn’t even try to stop you. Somehow, with one sentence, you ruined something that could’ve been so good for you, that had been so good for you.

~~

Now, it had been three months since that night, and you hadn’t spoken to Justin since. You’ve been going through the motions, just doing a fairly normal routine to make it through your day. You wake up, get dressed, go home, shower, cry while you eat your sorrows away, sleep, and then do it all again the next day. Nothing has felt right since your breakup with Justin, if that’s what you would even call. How can you break up with someone you were never really dating. 

You’ve found your confidence to be much lower recently, too. You couldn’t count the amount of time you’ve wondered where you went wrong. Why did you have to tell him? Why would he not even try? Why didn’t he follow you? Today, you found the answer.

You had decided that a day out would do you some good, so since you had the day off, you got dressed and walked around the city. You were about to go into one of your favorite coffee shops, one that you had brought Justin to many times. As you neared the door, you caught a glimpse of something that shattered your heart in a second. There sat Justin across from some girl you’ve never seen, looking too close to just be friends. You watched as she stood, kissing his cheek before she wandered off to the bathroom. A bright smile made its way onto Justin’s face, a smile you had never managed to bring out of him. With your heart broken all over again, you made your way to a close friend’s place. It was closer than yours, and you knew you didn’t want to be alone right now.

He had told you he couldn’t be in a relationship, but what he really meant was that he couldn’t be in a relationship with you. The questions began to set in again. Were you not pretty enough? Not popular enough? Did he need someone in the same tax bracket as him? Did he really just not like you? Did he think you weren’t good enough for him? Was he lying the entire time, every time he told you how special you were to him

Even with all the questions you had, you knew two things for sure. You were done with Justin Herbert, and you definitely could not do casual.

taglist: @heartsforjh @irishmanwhore @heartforherbert @jusaints @one-sweet-gubler

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[sarahsangelicdoll]

‘𝑜𝒽 𝓂𝓇 𝒸𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹, 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒶𝓂 𝒾 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽?’

༯ Summary: After a fight with his dad on valentines eve, mr cupid decides to direct JJ to your house

༯ the cupids enchantings event

a/n: had fun writing this :)) lowk had me smiling giggling and kicking my feet 🤭

༯ Content warning: Child abuse, cringey confessions lmao, descriptions of blood and wounds, possibly too much detail in reader disinfecting JJs wounds 😅, not explicit but just long, overall fluffy.

JJ’s feet were moving. Just moving. He had no idea where he should go, Kiara’s parents would never let him in. John B was gone off wherever for the night. Heyward would maybe let him stay over, but they were too far and it was pouring outside.

Then, while walking he spotted an all too familiar cabin like house. Surprisingly looking nice and in good condition for being on the cut. Flowers decorating the front yard, well kept and cared for grass that seemed to shine a bright green despite being dark and gloomy out.

The window at the front of the house was bright, illuminating a bit of the front yard and JJ could see your form sitting on the couch. As if the light and your presence was guiding him, he found himself just in front of your door without even realizing it.

You and JJ were part of the same friend group, however not particularly close. JJ always tried to keep his distance from you- ‘no pogue on pogue macking’ is what he always said, although he started doubting the rule whenever he was close to you. JJ cared to much for his ego so he would rather ignore you then risk his feelings getting the better of him. Everyone caught onto the fact he was avoiding you- it was painfully obvious. But JJ constantly brushed it off as if they were overthinking.

JJ sucked in a deep breath as he stood outside your door. The pain in his cheek, nose and forehead was overbearing and he had a particularly bad cut on his cheek. He glanced over your figure that was sat on the couch, your knees brought up to your chest as you watched TV and stirred whatever drink you had. He almost felt too bad to knock at your door- you two weren’t particularly close and here he was about to bother you with his issues. But just as his mind decided his body was going to turn and walk away, his body retaliated and knocked on your door, no backing down now.

JJ could hear and see the illuminated light move as you got up, probably confused as to who would be knocking on your door not only in this weather but at this time of night. His breath caught in his throat once he heard the door unlock and open.

Your breath also caught in your throat- not necessarily at seeing JJ of all people at your door, but at seeing the state he was in. Bloody nose and forehead. His cheek bleeding too much to be left by itself. And the realization that this was most likely the work of his father. How a father could do that to their own son? you had no idea.

You sighed, quickly knowing what this situation was, attempting to hide the pity in your eyes as to not bother JJ. “C’mon..” You mumbled. Moving out of the way and motioning with your head for JJ to come in.

The blonde reluctantly walked in. For some reason not expecting you to seem so… calm. Maybe it was just his anxiety talking and saying that you’d be upset at him for disrupting your peace. “Sorry.. just.. had nowhere to go..” JJ grumbled as he took his hat off and fiddled with it in his hands. His hair messily falling over his face.

You walked past him and into your kitchen, not understanding why he was apologizing. “It’s fine, better here than some random place or your house.” You said, giving JJ a soft smile as you grabbed some cloth from a drawer and a variety of disinfectant sprays, followed by bandages. “Want a hot chocolate maybe? Got some strawberry hot chocolate for valentines.” You offered, trying to ease the discomfort in the room.

“Uh.. yeah. Sure.” JJ said, attempting to appear nonchalant despite the fact your presence was making his heart do leaps. The way you effortlessly eased the tension, the way your presence was free of any slight hint of annoyance, the way your presence was filled with silent understanding and care.

“K, made with water or milk?” You asked. Setting the disinfectant items down on the counter to reach up for a cup.

JJ’s brows furrowed slightly at your suggestion. Milk? why the hell would you use milk? “Waters fine.” He said, smiling awkwardly as he shifted his weight onto one of his legs, standing in one place as if you’d get mad at him for moving.

You looked over at him, smiling softly as you chuckled. “You can come over?” You said as if it was a question. Flicking the kettle on. You watched him walk into your rather small, isle like kitchen, leaning your back into the counter and crossing your arms across your chest.

JJ eyed your kitchen. It was nicely organized and had not new items, rather old ones, but you clearly took care of them. He stopped just next you, placing his hat down onto the counter as he mimicked your own position. “So ah uh… what are you watching?” He asked dumbly, as if the sound of mean girls wasn’t very much clear in the background.

You chuckled, leaning up off the counter and towards the cabinet as the water started boiling. “Mean Girls.” You replied simply, well aware of how awkward JJ felt. After all, the two of you weren’t close.

You grabbed a small, pink chocolate heart out of a pack of four, one now two due to your own hot chocolate and JJ’s own, and put the pack away. Turning back to the kettle you pulled out a mug from the rack of drying dishes. “Wanna watch something else?” You asked. At the click of the kettle, signifying it was finished boiling, you took it off its little plate and poured it into a mug, following by dropping the chocolate heart into it.

“No- it’s fine.” He said, watching your movements and how the heart of chocolate, tinged with the flavour of Strawberry, started melting into the cup.

You hummed as a reply. Handing JJ his mug and grabbing your tools for cleaning JJ’s wounds. “Come,” You said simply as you made way for the living room. You stopped at your couch, turning on the lamp that rested on the couch side table. Sitting down you rested your back against the arm of the couch, sprawling out the items in front of you.

JJ sat down on the other side of the small couch, criss-cross applesauce style, looking at the array of bandages and disinfectant stuff. He felt that they were un-needed, but he knew that it’d be useless to say no. So he simply let you arrange your stuff. He took the cloth from your hands once you handed it to him, looking at you questionably. “Hold it onto your cheek to stop or lessen the bleeding.” You said simply with a small smile.

JJ did as you said. Wincing at the feeling but holding down nevertheless. His eyes glanced to the tv that was the only other thing, next to the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. His eyes trailed back down to you. You were pouring a bit of Hydrogen Peroxide disinfectant onto a smaller cloth. The other items you had were baby wipes, bandages and white petroleum lotion. JJ couldn’t help but smirk at your dedication to cleaning his stupid wounds. Always so thoughtful.

After about a minute you pulled out a baby wipe, smiling softly as you reached up to pull his arm down and started cleaning the blood and guck around the wounds, being particularly careful on his cheek. JJ glanced down awkwardly, attempting to ignore how his heart fluttered in his chest.

Next, you picked up the cloth with the disinfectant. “It might sting a bit.” You warned before placing it down onto his cheek. JJ almost flinched away but didn’t, instead hissing in a breath. You gently wiped at the wounds before bringing the cloth down and folding it. Grabbing the bottle of disinfectant and spraying it on all three wounds.

JJ flinched again, moving away from the spray. “Jesus is all that really necessary?” He asked as he ignored the irritation swelling on the wounds that mixed with a stinging sensation.

You chuckled at his words, letting the spray sit for a couple seconds before bringing the cloth up to wipe away all the pus and guck that started forming on top the wound. “Yes it is. So that it can prevent infection.”

JJ couldn’t help the blush that formed on his face as he finally looked at you. Seeing the unyielding focus and care in your eyes. He could feel the warmth of your body on his and you were the closest you ever were to him. His heart did flips when he heard your quiet sigh as you pulled away the cloth and reach down for the white petroleum lotion.

You opened the cap of the lotion and poured a bit onto your finger. Closing the lid with your knee you plopped the bottle back down, dapping your other finger into the small bit on the tip of your right pointer finger, before diverting your attention back up. You smiled as you locked eyes with him; missing the way he was looking at you with nothing but love and adoration.

You gently placed the bit of cream over the wound on his forehead, forming a thin layer. The white petroleum also stung a bit but not as much as the bloody hydrogen peroxide.

JJ watched you, admiring every bit of your face and focused expression. He was feeling himself grow increasingly more confident and wanting to do nothing but just say how he feels out loud in this exact moment.

You moved your finger back down to get a bit more of the lotion before placing it onto the wound on his nose. “Sorry if it hurts a bit, almost done. Just got your cheek next and then bandages.” You said, your voice half distracted with focus.

And that’s when it came out; “I love you.”

Ok, JJ had to admit that was a tad bit of dramatic- but it left his mouth before he could even think about it. The words left him in a quick breath. He gulped as he watched your eyes widen and your movements freeze. Your own breath catching in your throat. It took you a couple seconds to process what he said before you let out a breathy chuckle.

“Bullshit.” You said chuckled, dapping your finger into the lotion again, gathering more this time as you shifted to the wound on his cheek next. “You’re just feeling emotional because all the stuff that happened tonight.” You said simply. Attempting to ignore the way your brain was hoping he was being 100% honest. How much you yearned to be this close to him and hear him say those words.

JJ didn’t know what it was tonight, but he was feeling very bold in this moment. He leaned away from your touch just as you finished applying the thin layer. He took your hand in his as he looked at you with an expression more firm than before. “No. I mean it completely y/n- You just… have such a comforting presence and i’ve actually liked you for a long, long time but i didn’t wanna break my.. “No pogue on pogue macking” rule so i started avoiding you.. but right now i could care less about that stupid rule, honestly.” JJ rambled on, only stopping to catch his breath.

“But i mean it, so so much y/n. I really like you and.. i want to be with you.” He finished, his face flushing once he realized how out of character he was sounding- and how abrupt it was with a tad of dramatics.

You stared at him in shock, letting his words sink in. And once his words did finally sink in you had to bite back a grin. “Really?” You asked, hating yourself for sounding so giddy.

“Really.” He replied nodding. Now attempting to appear nonchalant. But he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face just as a wide one spread on yours and your lips landed on his in a matter of seconds.

Your hands found way to his face. Your touch gentle as to not hurt his bad cheek. JJ leaned into the kiss as his hand found your own cheek, rubbing soft circles onto the soft skin.

Once you two finally pulled away JJ looked down on you, a cheeky grin quickly forming on his face. You quickly grew a matching grin as you pulled away. Grabbing the bandages as you attempted to appear nonchalant. “You seem happy.” You teased. Looking back up at him to place a bigger bandage on his cheek.

“I would say you look equally as happy princess.” he teased back. Noticing the way your cheeks flushed even more at the nickname that he hasn’t used on you in forever.

“Well maybee you’re right.” You replied. Placing a medium sized bandage onto the wound on his forehead, followed by the smaller one on his nose.

Once you finished bandaging his wounds he took your hand in his, leaning down to place a kiss on your hand. “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about princess.” He said. Attempting to fluster you even more, however you weren’t having it.

“I guess you’re right. After all i wasn’t the one who rambled on like a weirdo.” You teased back, poking him in the chest with your finger. Smirking as you saw your attempt at flustering JJ work. You got up, throwing the stuff you used onto the couch side table. You then grabbed his hands and dragged him up, making way for the bigger couch that sat a couple feet away from the tv. “Now stop talking and watch the movie with me, I’ll restart it and it can be our own lil late valentines date.”

⟡ ݁₊ . written by sarahsangelicdoll, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

༉ taglist: @hvnlygrl @tashiagalinda @littlxpxtal @starsval @rafestoothbrush @subconsciouscollapse @marleymarleymarleymarley @riaras-everthroner

tagging muts: @rafesheaven @personapeters @bloodibambiidoll @cameronsprincess @moonlightrafe @winnie1emon

[fun-k-board]

Happy New Year!! 🎉

If it's alright, could I request Loki Headcanons about a Shy Lover or Secret Admirer? I imagine something like that wouldn't stay secret for long, knowing Loki, but I love the idea of the Lover in question being flustered beyond belief at being found out 💕

MARVEL RIVALS - LOKI LAUFEYSON With a Shy Secret Admirer Headcanons!

Note(s): I'm sorry this came out a bit late, college stressed me out so bad my body and mind did a factory reset. I'll be trying to finish the rest of my requests weekly.

"Oh?" Loki's eyes are light, something unusual for the trickster. Almost eager, they flick between you and the paper that's held loosely in his hand, the usual hint of amusement in his upturned lips. "You wrote these? Well, I can't say I'm not flattered, but you are aware I've been courting you for quite some time, yes?"

You and Loki would most likely know each other prior to you becoming his secret admirer, after all, he is a bit of a flirt and you're most likely one of many that he's charmed over the years. But, for him to accept your proposal, which is how I intend to write this as to avoid angst, he would need to reciprocate your feelings. In short, he'd probably be actively courting you while you do this.

It'd mostly be insignificant things, not killing you, maybe paying you a compliment every now and then, and maybe, just maybe, if he's feeling generous he'll find it in his heart to give you a gift. Typically it's jewellery, something that reflects him, gold with green jewels are his favourite. Necklaces are a no brainer, they're so easy to spot, and it's so easy to tell who it's from, too (You'll be lucky if he doesn't engrave his name on the damn thing).

Of course, he loves to tease you. It's so fun to see you squirm and try to hide away, even if he can't see the effect of the blood rushing there, he likes to hold a hand to your face every now and then to see if it's hot. One of his favourites is to whisper plans of mischief, and maybe try and get you to tag along in his next prank or attempt to steal the throne, it depends on his mood, really.

Infuriatingly, however, you don't seem to pick up on his obvious flirtations. He immediately decides that's an issue on your part, but he'll indulge you and give an extra flirty, witty remark every now and then. Wait- you're still not- oh you frustrate him endlessly! He's got half a mind to smite you, you know!

The thing is, Loki enjoys a good mystery and a thrilling hunt, but what he wants most of all is to be adored, worshiped, have thousands at his feet begging and pleading just for him to spare them a glance. So, when he starts getting little trinkets wrapped in bows, with papers written full of heartfelt devotion... Well, how can a God refuse such wonderful praise?

It's around that time of annoyance and pining, his stubbornness refusing to allow him to confess first, you must make the first move as it's obviously you who is obsessed with him, that he actually begins to receive your gifts. In such random places too, sometimes even tucked in the pocket of his clothes! Not that he doesn't admire the bravery to do such a thing.

At first he doesn't really look deep into it, he's content to find the very obviously placed gifts and doesn't care much for where they're found. As long as he's getting the attention he rightfully deserves, he doesn't care who it's from. Why should he need to know who loves him when he's being loved either way?

But, when he does want to find out this secret admirer's identity, perhaps in a ploy to make you jealous and confess, it's when he realises that it's you. The handwriting, the way of speaking, grammar, punctuation, and the nail in the coffin is when he catches you placing a note in his quarters while invisible.

This works out brilliantly.

Not only does it confirm in Loki's mind that you're utterly infatuated and obsessed with him, but it makes him believe that you were secretly aware of his courting all along. That you, given your shy nature, had done this to play into his trickster personality. He can't say he isn't impressed by your wits! (Someone please get him a reality check...)

Naturally, Loki plans something sweet yet embarrassing for his your confession, and despite his want for love and attention, he supposes that he'll make it a private affair. After all, he does want you to admit your love for him and giving you a panic attack would probably only drive you away.

The gardens are certainly beautiful this time of day, not bright enough to burn your eyes but not dark enough so you can't see, it's perfect. Not to mention quiet. Many people prefer to admire the gardens after their meals, either in the morning or in the night, but strangely never the evening, which leaves you by yourself. It's peaceful.

Yet the peace, as usual, is interrupted by a certain prince.

You turn around when you hear your name being called, your brows shooting upwards when you realise it's Loki. What could he need? Is he planning another prank? No matter, either way you're clearly involved. So, you wave a friendly hand and hope that you can ignore the sickly butterflies in your stomach that flutter harder when the sound of his shoes click closer and closer towards you.

"I want to speak with you." Loki hums, coming to a halt only a meter away from you.

You ask what he wants to speak with you about and he searches in his pocket for a moment until he finds a small piece of paper, holding it out in his palm almost like an offering. It looks familiar. Hesitant, you feel your fingers pinch a corner and take it for yourself, dread setting in your stomach as you realise. He figured it out.

When you look up sharply to explain, his face is inches from yours. The action causes your cheeks to get unbelievably hot, and even if the blood rushing to your face isn't visible, Loki knows you, he knows your tells. "I admire your worship, darling." He whispers, eyes narrowing as a sly grin grows on his lips. "But I would prefer it to be in person."

[michellejonesgf]

come on, live a little • patrick zweig x reader

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

synopsis: patrick hasn't been kissed in a while. and so he asks for a kiss.

words: 1087

warnings: written in second person, pat zweig being persistent (he wants a kiss so bad) (not in a creepy way, you and him have a good friendship), hinge mention (author does NOT know how dating apps work), friends to lovers!

a/n: wrote this during a quick writing session in between study sessions, hope you like this <3

“hey can i ask you a favour.”

“nope.”

“if you were a really good friend.”

“good thing i’m not that.”

“you would really care about me.”

“pat, i don’t have time for this.”

“can you kiss me?"

and with those eyes so wide, so beautiful, who are you to say no?

“i haven’t been kissed in so long.”

patrick zweig has never been big on emotional vulnerability. he prefers to hide behind a veil of cheeky remarks and flirts with a mission, but laughter is all he expects even when he does happen to make a joke or two with personal anecdotes.

“did art put you up to this? or tashi?”

a part of his heart seizes at this. did you really not believe that someone could ache after you? or did it stem beyond that? did you not want this?

he says your name, “it’s already so embarrassing, you think they have that much of a hold over me?”

you shrug, looking anywhere but his eyes. your heart won’t accept its sincere but if you see even a glimmer of amusement in his eyes you will never be able to speak to him normally again.

“oh, i know they have a different kind of hold on you.”

“i don’t want to talk about them right now.”

“then don’t.”

patrick’s at the end of his rope. and he’s never at the end of rope, at least not in this way.

“the other day you said ‘what’s a little kiss between friends’. you know nothing’s going to change, or whatever.”

“is this how you get everyone to kiss you? no wonder you’ve been, what was it, thirty people in the last–”

“–don’t be mean.”

you feel bad. and you did say that a little kiss between one’s closest friends only makes the friendship stronger. but you also said that to tashi. who you don’t currently have feelings for (although art would say that’s debatable). maybe you should do this, be a good friend. “you really want a kiss, huh?” you squint your eyes at him.

“i don’t want to make you feel weird–”

“what about hinge?”

“what about it?”

the pause tells you all you need to know. "you got banned, didn't you?"

he averts his gaze, voice a bit smaller than before, "no i didn't".

he huffs and turns to you, eyes focused into yours, desperately peering, "do you not want to kiss? i won't bother you if its making you uncomfortable."

you think it's now or never. take a chance, risk it and hope that you can salvage what's left of your friendship over the next six months. art and tashi would understand right, they'd help you through it?

you lean closer to him, and slowly bring your hands to his face, cupping each cheek gently with each hand. you look into his eyes, smiling, "i'm going to need you to put on a shirt first."

he springs up and you hear the shuffle of his feet as he walks towards the bed. you smile at how he's quick to come back.

he sits back on the floor, just the way you both were a minute ago and you resume the position of your hands cradling his face.

“patrick zweig,” you say smiling.

“yes?” his voice is hesitant, he doesn’t know if you’re going to make fun of him or–

“can i kiss you?”

“please.”

you lean in and give his lips a slight feather-like touch with your own. neither party pulls away, both with closed eyes and held breaths. you make a decision. you lean in once more and press a kiss that feels more real this time. he kisses back but its so soft your heart melts at the thought that this could be something.

you try some more pressure and one of your hands goes to the back of his neck to pull him a bit closer. you’ve never felt this tingly while giving someone a kiss, you wonder if a friendship this deep makes it more special. if knowing someones hidden threads and tending to their bruised split knuckles when they try not to cry grants a special warmth to any potential future romantic dalliances with that person that sours any other romantic experience with someone else forever.

the leverage that your hand on his neck gives you feels dizzying because in this moment he is yours to hold and to kiss. you feel his palm in the small of your back, barely there, a bit more than ghosting. a deepened kiss, lips slotting between each other that meet for a moment only to slot a different way and you deign that enough. you both halt with your lips so close yet so apart.

you look into his eyes, from that so-close-so-apart distance and every resolve you had to stay civil dissolves. he looks at you and you feel dishonest and–

“i’ve liked you since that weekend at the basketball court.”

“i deleted hinge three months ago.”

so he was telling the truth.

a patrick zweig in love practices emotional vulnerability and tells the truth. who would’ve thought.

“so this isn’t just a kiss between friends?” as much as you don’t want to a smile creeps and lifts your cheeks so much there’s no way you can do a bit.

“come on, i just told my best friend i like her!”

“you didn’t tell me any of that.”

“well, the way you kiss told me that.”

“well, i also kiss your mother like that, if that helps.”

he holds your face the way that you were holding his just a few minutes ago, “will you stop seeing my mother and let me be your boyfriend, please?”

“come on, live a little, its the 21st century!” but your heart is beating so fast you cannot bring yourself to answer earnestly.

patrick’s smile turns toothy and you wonder what it would be like to taste the inside of his mouth.

“did you really save yourself for months so that you could kiss me?”

“you know how traditional i am.” this is the same patrick who kissed art to get him to stop talking that is now kissing you, and saving himself to do so.

“can we do that again but with tongue?”

“yes, director.”

[lucysarah-c]

Hiiiii, I like your writing!

What do you think is Levi's go-to comfortable wear

Sorry, I had this ask sitting in my inbox, and I’m skipping the line to reply to this one because I just HAD TO.

Thank you so much for this ask.

SWEATPANTS AND A BAGGY SHIRT. Ugh, sorry, I needed to get that off my chest. I'll explain in depth now.

I think Levi is in his uniform like 24/7, so in the rare moments he actually has time to take that damn thing off and rest… he doesn’t just want to be comfy—HE WANTS TO BE BAGGY. Those uniforms are TIGHT, and if you lived through the “skinny jeans era,” you know the first thing you wanted to do when you got home was take them off and throw on something loose.

But here’s the thing—Levi is THICK for a short guy. So the pants that are loose on him are also long, and he hates when they drag on the floor or need to be folded. That’s why he’d go for joggers, grey ones, with elastic cuffs. And once again, a baggy shirt. He doesn’t want ANYTHING clinging to his frame. If he’s in the mood, or if the weather calls for it—not even a shirt. Just sweatpants on, happy trail on display.

He wears slippers. I fully believe Levi is the kind of person who would tell you that walking around barefoot will give you a cold. And no matter how many times Hange explains that’s not how it works, he will insist.

Now, hehe, here’s the part I really wanted to talk about… This man… when he’s in his damn chambers or his house on a free day or after hours—sweatpants on, baggy shirt, maybe a cardigan if it’s chilly. And—listen to me—no underwear. No boxers. No briefs. No. Nothing tight, remember? He’s letting it hang loose, no issues with it.

“You gotta let them breathe from time to time,” he’d say. And yeah, the bulge with no boxers on? Very noticeable. Sometimes, he’s scratching his belly or stretching, and the sweatpants are hanging low on his hips… and you can see. You can tell. It’s just a matter of hooking one finger under the waistband and pulling down for the whole reveal. He doesn’t care. Maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing, because what’s a free day—what’s the joy of not wearing the uniform—without a good little lazy fuck?

Anyway… I adored this ask. I haven't had this much fun in a while.

Have a lovely day!

[xoxochb]

Sweet girl diary entry!!!!!!! Pls pls pls. Just like, a lil ficlet as if Sweet Girl is writing in her diary. The whole

“dear diary. Today at camp…”

I just wanna find out more abt my baby’s life 🥺

I’ve never wrote something from first person but this is actually soooo criminally cute 🥹🥹

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

dear diary journal,

diary sounds too girly.

well I am a girl. but it sounds too 2000s romcom starring anne hathaway where her love interest his chad michael murray the y2k it boy.

he’s pretty sexy though, I won’t lie. we’ll switch it back to diary tomorrow when I find the motivation to erase and rewrite it.

it’s monday, february third. I hate mondays. but not as much as I hate sundays I freaking HATE sundays with a passion. percy always makes fun of me when I talk about my deep loathing for sundays. so I pull his hair in retaliation. I won’t tell him I half do that just to touch his soft hair because then he’d just make fun of me even more.

this morning it took me 2 whole hours to get out of bed. and it wasn’t necessarily my fault because percy wanted to dilly-dally per usual. and he also bribed me with twenty dollars and the best half an hour long make out session so I think it might’ve been worth it.

but I finally managed to get him out of bed following this. I stayed at his cabin again because I think it’s my new home at this point. we showered— and after ten minutes of trying to keep his hand out from between my legs we dressed and went to lunch because we had skipped breakfast.

and I was sad because I like breakfast. but percy made up for it and made me french toast for lunch. he even put confectionery sugar on it!!!!!!

after I ate lunch I left him and found annabeth. we had an hour long debate over historical arguments it was kinda epic. percy doesn’t like when I say epic he says it makes me sound like a five year old boy. so I say it to make him angry. but I don’t think he could ever be angry with me so I guess I win either way.

I left cabin six around three o’clock and ran into grover and juniper. they were weaving stick bracelets for the younger campers so I helped them for a while. and when I finished I gave all my bracelets to little lucille she’s an angel. she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

after I dropped off the bracelet I went back to cabin three. but percy was fast asleep. and when he’s asleep I’m sure he could be out through an entire war. he doesn’t even have a blanket on— the blue blanket I had bought him specifically because it’s his favorite color.

I managed to retrieve the blanket from beneath him and put it above him. then I joined him in his nap and I think I was out for like two hours to be honest. he was still asleep when I woke up though.

so I laid with him until he woke up just before dinner. unsurprisingly, we skipped it like breakfast. we stayed in bed until eight. or I did at least. I forced percy to get up and get me ice cream, and bring the loving boyfriend he is, he brought me back my favorite peanut butter + oreo ice cream combo. I love him.

I ate it within the next five minutes and then complained to him about being cold. percy is the only person who’ll listen to me complain so I take advantage of it.

he recommended having a ‘special way’ to make me warm. by his smirk alone I knew what he meant. but I would’ve known without seeing him at all, he’s predictable sometimes.

and not to anyone’s surprise, I let him show me his special way. and to say I was warmed up would be an understatement. but I won’t go into details because I’m not my boyfriend— who would, without a second thought go into graphic detail.

and then a half an hour later he crashed. and then that brings me to now. it’s not that I can’t sleep but I’d much rather prefer to have time to catch up on reading for a bit since my day had been busy. but then I saw my journal/diary and got sidetracked so I guess that didn’t really work out.

but overall my day was pretty good!! and… I should probably go to sleep soon because it’s…. I’ll be back in a second.

it’s one thirty two in the morning. off to bed I go!

until tomorrow, xoxo sweet girl.

[ladelinee]

Authors note: I had so much fun writing this that I finished quickly. Maybe I will take longer with the next episode, as the next two weeks are very intense for me 🥲 Enjoy!!

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: angst, innocent, a bit aggresive E, fluff.

Dontcha’ think It’s time

Part 2 (Part 1 here)

Before you reached the stairs, you could listen already the clinking silverware, lively chatter, and Elvis’s booming laughter. The smell of bacon, toast, and coffee pulled you toward the dining room.

Inside, chairs scraped, voices overlapped, and the Memphis Mafia crowded around the table, plates piled high.

At the center, little Lisa Marie sat in her high chair, happily making a mess spilling cereals.

Lisa spotted you right away. Her face lit up with a big, messy grin.

“You sittin’ by me?” she asked fascinated, her voice slightly muffled by the cereal in her mouth.

“Good morning, Yisa. Of course!” you replied with a warm smile while sliding into the seat next to her.

Lisa giggled, she was excited to enjoy breakfast with you.

Elvis, seated at the head of the table, glanced up. He noticed the interaction, the way Lisa beamed at you, and that put a smile on his face.

Leaning forward slightly, his eyes softened as he said “Mornin’, sugar” his voice smooth and welcoming. “How’d ya sleep?”

You looked over at him, your nerves easing at his kind tone. “Good, thanks. The bed is really comfortable.”

“Well, that’s good to hear” he replied, leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand. “Graceland ain’t that bad, is it?”

“No, it’s really nice” you answered honestly, feeling a bit more at ease.

Elvis nodded, pleased.

Across the table, Joe piped up, breaking the short moment of calm. “Hey, E, the tailor has been waiting for you to confirm a date. Them jumpsuits of yours are about ready to give up.”

“Yeah” Red added, cutting into his pancakes with a grin. “Keep movin’ like you do on stage, and those seams ain’t got a prayer.”

The table roared with laughter as Elvis rolled his eyes, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

“You boys got jokes this mornin’, huh?” he answered back between laughs. “Tell the tailor to come by tomorrow. And careful now, you’re talkin’ to the man who makes sure y’all get breakfast every day.”

Red grinned back. “That’s true, E. But maybe if you laid off the damn bacon those seams wouldn’t be screamin’ for help.”

Elvis shot him a mock glare as the room erupted in laughter again. But before he could retort, Lisa’s little voice piped up, clear as a bell.

“Damn bacon” she let out, nodding as if she agreed with Red.

Everyone laughed at the joke except Elvis, who sighed playfully. He wasn't impressed because Lisa was at that age of repeating everything.

Setting his coffee cup down slowly, Elvis licked his lips, stretched his arms, and cracked his neck like a man about to deliver the final blow. Then, with a smirk so lethal it could knock a man flat, he pointed his fork straight at Red.

“Listen here, I ain’t eatin’ all this bacon for me, man. I’m carb-loadin’ for later… gotta keep my energy up for your mama.”

The guys detonated.

Jerry fell against Charlie, grabbing his chest like he’d been shot. Charlie was howling, pounding the table so hard the syrup bottle tipped over.

Elvis took another bite of bacon, chewed slowly, and winked.

Red threw his hands up. “Man, what the hell, E?! I ain’t even say nothin’ that bad!”

Elvis just shrugged, taking a long sip of coffee. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before talkin’ about me and my jumpsuits. ’Cause trust me, man, ain’t nothin’ burstin’ at the seams but your mama’s breathin’ when I walk through the door.”

“I’m done. I’m done.” Red slammed his napkin on the table.

Elvis grinned, popping another piece of bacon in his mouth. “Yeah, well… your mama ain’t.”

You sat calmly, hands resting on the table, taking it all in. You were watching and listening, completely absorbed. You didn’t understand every jab being thrown, but still. The way he shot back, so quick, so clever… it was something to admire. You fixed your eyes on him, wide with quiet awe, captivated by the effortless way he turned every joke in his favor.

You had no idea what was happening. But one thing was clear: Uncle Elvis was winning.

Elvis looked at you and instantly felt the weight of all his sins.

Red looked between you and Elvis and smirked. “Yeah, E… now you can’t say anything, huh?”

He shot Red a warning glare. “Oh, you dirty son of a…”

After few seconds Elvis swallowed real slow, suddenly feeling about ten degrees hotter. He glanced around: Charlie nudged Jerry. Jerry looked up, saw your sweet little face, and immediately covered his mouth, trying to hold in his laughter. Joe was staring directly at Elvis, mouthing, “Don’t. You. Do. It.”

Elvis cleared his throat, straightened his back, and gave you his most innocent, charming smile.

“Well now, sugar” he started smoothly, looking you dead in the eye. “Let’s just say… your ol’ Uncle does a lotta charity work”

The table lost it.

Joe was laughing quietly, struggling to catch his breath and kicking his legs. Jerry was nearly in tears. Red's face was all red, and he was mumbling something about how the Lord was testing him.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Jerry added, “E, you’re going straight to hell, man.”

The playful teasing helped you unwind, and soon enough, you were laughing along with the jokes, a sense of belonging settling in.

Noticing you loosening up, Red smirked and leaned toward you. “See? Give it a year, and you’ll be just as wild as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but for now, take it easy, Red. She’s just a little girl.” Jerry swallowed a piece of toast, smirking.

Hearing Jerry’s words stirred something inside you. Since the atmosphere they created was making you feel comfortable, you decided to bring this up. Excitement began to shine in your eyes as you declared with a smile, “Well, not for long. Uncle Elvis is gonna make me a woman.”

The room fell into an instant, stunned silence. Forks hovered midair, coffee cups stopped halfway to lips, not a single breathing, and wide-eyed glances darted across the table.

Elvis paused mid-sip, his coffee cup still hovering close to his mouth. He froze, staring at the scene blankly. Slowly, he lowered his hand, the cup dangling from his fingers as he looked around to see how everyone was reacting.

Red made the mistake of looking at Elvis, saw the absolute panic on his face, and lost the battle. His chest jerked with a barely contained snort.

Charlie’s face turned toward the ceiling, eyes shut tight, fighting for composure, while Joe shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Elvis like he was waiting for him to say something.

But the real problem, the reason the laughter was strained, the reason no one could quite look Elvis in the eye, was that the idea wasn’t actually impossible.

By experience, they all knew better.

Before Elvis could even pronounce a word, you continued innocently, completely unaware of the tension. “He said he’d teach me about what men like and how to be more confident, so I figured…”

Lisa, completely oblivious, grinned up at you, swinging her legs.

“Darlin’, I told y-“

Elvis didn’t even get to finish before Jerry leaned in, his voice low but urgent. “You might wanna hit the brakes before this train goes completely off the rails.”

In return, Elvis shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that?”

Turning back to you, he forced a strained smile. “Now, sugar, what I meant was-“

“But you said-“

“I know what I said” Elvis cut in quickly, his voice tightening up with irritation.

Charlie decided to pour gasoline on the fire. “She’s got a point, E. You’re always braggin’ about how you know what women want.”

Elvis’s patience snapped. “Charlie, I swear to God…”

But you weren’t done. “And it makes sense, right? You said you know what men want, and if anyone can make me a woman, it’s you, Uncle Elvis!”

That was the final straw. The room went nuts, their laughter transforming into a strange mix of hiccuping, snorting, and wheezing. It sounded like a bunch of chickens getting spooked and a pack of turkeys doing their gobble thing, creating a total circus.

Elvis, however, didn’t find it funny.

“Alright, that’s enough!” he shouted. He slammed his hand on the table, making everyone jump. His face was bright red, and his eyes blazed with frustration. Every time he tried to speak, someone cut him off. His patience was gone.

The room quieted suddenly, giggles dying out in an instant. Lisa's attention snapped to her father, her eyes wide and glued to his face.

You shrank in your seat, your face red with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean anything bad” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Elvis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you didn’t, sugar” he said, his voice softer but still firm. “But you can’t…you just can’t say things like that. Not like that. Not here.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pushed your chair back. “I’m sorry” you said quickly, bolting from the room before anyone could stop you.

No one spoke. No one dared.

Elvis exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. The men exchanged uneasy glances until Jerry finally broke the silence. “Well…that went south fast.”

Elvis shot him a warning look but remained silent.

Red smirked softly “E, this is just a taste of what’s comin’. Wait till Lisa’s her age. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Elvis glanced at Lisa, who had returned to her cereal as if nothing had happened.

“Lisa” he said tiredly, “finish your breakfast. And behave when you get older, ya hear me?”

Lisa looked up at him, confused but obedient. “Okay, Daddy” she replied, taking another bite.

As soon as breakfast was over, Elvis let out a quiet curse before standing abruptly and leaving the table.

He made his way upstairs, pausing outside your door to knock softly.

“Darlin’? You in there?”

No response. He hesitated, then turned the doorknob.

The room was empty.

Elvis’s stomach sank as he scanned the hallway, his worry mounting.

“Jerry!” he called with sharp voice. “Get everyone. She’s gone.”

You ran down the driveway of Graceland, your feet pounding on the hot pavement. As you neared the end, the city of Memphis sprawled out before you, alive with activity, a sea of unknown but filled with the promise of answers.

You didn’t stop. Not when the air burned your lungs, not when the weight of this morning’s turmoil pressed against your chest. You weaved through pedestrians.

Finally, the library stood before you.

You pushed open the doors, stepping into the cool, hushed space. “If no one’s gonna help me” you muttered under your breath, determination settling in your bones. “I’ll find out myself.”

Some time later, Elvis was behind the wheel of his Cadillac, the engine roaring as it crawled down the streets of Memphis. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel. Jerry sat in the passenger seat, glancing anxiously between Elvis and the road ahead.

“E, you’ve been drivin’ in circles for an hour”

Elvis ignored him, his sharp blue eyes inspecting the sidewalks. “She couldn’t have gone far” he muttered.

Jerry sighed. “Look, maybe she just needed some air. She’s not gonna do anything crazy.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked when she left that table, Jerry. I snapped at her, and she ran off feelin’ like she’s got no one to talk to. Hell, I wouldn’t stick around after that, either.”

Jerry leaned back, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t know what she’s doin’. She just needs to cool off, and so do you.”

Elvis didn’t answer. He slowed the car as they passed the library, something catching his eye. He squinted at the front doors.

“There” he said suddenly, pulling over to the curb with a screech.

Jerry craned his neck. “You think she’s in there?”

Elvis didn’t reply. He threw the car into park, climbed out, and strode toward the library doors, his pace quick but steady. Jerry hesitated for a moment, then let out a sigh, shoved his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the car, eyes fixed on the library doors.

You were still flipping through books, growing more and more stressed. Your fingers trembled as you picked up another, then another, the words on the pages blurring together in your frustration.

“What’s all this about?”

The deep, familiar voice made you freeze. You looked up to see Elvis standing at the end of the aisle, his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed on you.

You sighed, guilt and relief flooding your face.

Elvis walked closer, crouching down so he was eye level with you. His gaze softened when he saw the pile of books around you, and the frustration written all over your face. “What are you doin’ in here, honey? You had us all worried.”

You glanced down at the book in your hands, fidgeting with the corner of the page. “I just…I thought maybe the library would help. My parents always said books have the answers, but none of these books explain anything about…”

“About what?” Elvis asked gently, his tone calm and patient now.

You hesitated, then blurted out, “About how to be a woman. I thought if no one was gonna help me, I’d figure it out myself. But these books don’t make sense!”

He glanced at the titles around you, understanding dawning on his face. “Sugar,” he said softly, “you don’t need no books for that.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with tears. “Then how am I supposed to learn? I just…I want to understand what I’m supposed to do, what I’m supposed to be.”

Elvis let out a long breath, sitting down on the floor beside you, leaning his back against the bookshelf. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared down at the books scattered around you.

“Listen to me, darlin’” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “There ain’t no book out there that’s gonna tell you how to be a woman. That’s somethin’ you figure out on your own, little by little.”

“But I don’t even know where to start” you said, your voice small.

Elvis reached out, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder, making you look at him. “I’ll help ya, honey, as best as I can. But don’t go running off thinking you’re on your own.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you sniffled, nodding. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I know you didn’t” he said, his voice soft. “And I didn’t mean to snap at you. That’s on me, sugar. M’sorry.”

You nodded again, the tension in your chest starting to ease. Elvis stood, brushing off his pants, and extended a hand to you.

“C’mon” he said with a small smile. “Let’s get you back home. You got the whole house worried about ya.”

The rest of the day, you felt a little more at ease.

For the first time in a long while, you felt supported. Like maybe… you weren’t so alone after all.

Even so, when night fell, sleep wouldn’t come.

You tossed and turned, kicking off the blanket, pulling it back on again, but nothing helped. Your mind wouldn’t settle.

Finally, with a sigh, you pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. You hesitated at the doorway.

You still felt a little uncomfortable moving around on your own in a house that wasn’t yours. Everything felt too big, too unfamiliar, too grand. But waking someone up? That felt even worse.

So, you forced yourself forward.

Graceland was different at night. The house was silent, dimly lit, wrapped in shadows. The soft white carpet felt cool under your bare feet.

When you reached the kitchen, you traced your fingers along the cabinets, finding the fridge by touch alone. The soft glow illuminated the space as you pulled it open.

Carefully, you poured the milk and warmed it up the way your mother used to.

The moment the warmth hit your fingertips, you sighed, finally feeling something familiar. Something that felt safe.

You were ready to take that first, much-needed sip, and then you realized you weren’t alone.

Leaning against the counter, watching you, stood Elvis. His robe was hanging loosely, and his hair was messy, making him look different.

Finally, he spoke.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, rough from the lateness of the hour.

You shook your head, “You either?” still gripping your glass.

Elvis let out a quiet huff, lifting the drink in his hand slightly. “I don’t do much of that these days.”

You hesitated, shifting slightly before finally stepping toward the counter, perching on one of the stools. You suddenly felt small in the space, small in his presence.

Elvis’s gaze flickered over you, noticing something, thinking, but keeping it to himself. He took a slow sip of his drink before exhaling through his nose.

“I told you I’d teach you a few tips, and I meant that” he murmured, his voice steady. “But I think you already learned the first lesson on your own.”

You frowned slightly. “What lesson?”

Elvis leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter.

“You had initiative to do what your heart wanted” he said. “You made a decision for yourself, without anyone tellin’ you what to do.” A small smirk touched his lips. “And… you’re willin’ to change. That’s admirable, sugar.”

A warm feeling curled in your chest.

Elvis wasn’t the kind of man who gave compliments easily, not the ones that mattered.

But just as the moment started to feel too heavy, too serious.

He suddenly leaned back, stretching slightly.

“Ah, and also” he added, pointing at you, “you’re grounded for escapin’.”

You nearly choked on your milk. “What?!”

Elvis smirked, taking another sip of his drink. “Yeah. Sorry, young lady, but I gotta stick to it.”

“You don’t even ground people!”

“I do now” he said, chuckling. “First time for everything.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is so unfair.”

Elvis just shook his head, his laughter soft but real.

The moment softened, and for a second, it almost felt normal again.

Then, you studied him a little closer. His face wasn’t guarded like it usually was. He seemed… different.

“You look different at night,” you said out of nowhere, tilting your head.

Elvis raised a brow, smirking slightly. “That so?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your milk. “Yeah. You seem… I don’t know. Less like ‘Elvis Presley’ and more like… just you.”

Elvis exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “Darlin’, I don’t even know what ‘just me’ is anymore.”

You frowned, watching him carefully. “Well… I think you’re the best person I know.”

That made him stop.

His fingers tensed subtly around his glass. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to speak, but then he hesitated. He had spent years battling to separate the man from the artist, struggling for people to see the difference between who he was and who they expected him to be. But you were too young to understand the weight of that fight, and he wasn’t about to launch into a speech. Instead, he swallowed the thought, keeping it to himself.

You didn’t know why, but you wanted him to believe you. So you continued.

“I…I think you’re kind, and funny, and you make everyone feel safe. And I don’t think people tell you that enough.”

Elvis stared at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

His blue eyes flickered in the dim light, studying your face. Then, before you could think, his hand lifted, fingers grazing along your cheek.

“Appreciate it, darlin’”he said, his smile warm and sincere.

The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a strange feeling through you.

It was warm. It was soft. It made something deep in your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t understand.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching slightly. He was so tall, and his hand seemed enormous compared to your face.

Elvis seemed to realize how you were reacting to what he had just done.

His hand lingered just a second too long, his thumb brushing the corner of your jaw, before he suddenly pulled away like if the surface was burning, clearing his throat.

Elvis shifted, suddenly looking tense, uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair, reaching for his drink like he needed something to do.

You swallowed, confused by the strange feeling left behind.

The athmosphere in the kitchen felt heavier now. Different.

Elvis downed the rest of his drink in one go and turned his back to you.

“Alright, honey” he said, voice tighter now, forced into something lighter. “Time for bed.”

You hesitated, still feeling the ghost of his touch on your skin.

But finally, you nodded.

“Okay.”

You slid off the stool, heading for the doorway.

Elvis didn’t turn around.

As you walked back to your room, you weren’t sure what had just happened.

You didn’t know why your heart was beating too fast.

You didn’t know why your skin still felt warm.

And you didn’t know why as soon as the door clicked shut behind you…

Elvis let out a long, sharp breath and muttered under his breath, “Shit.”

Tag: @iloveelvisss

[anorlondo00]

I do not care at all about sports and the sum total of my knowledge about American football is what I remember from reading Eyeshield 21 fifteen plus years ago, BUT. I am now invested in the football AU. Ace and Luffy are the mascots of the team and everyone loves them. They can do no wrong in Oyaji's eyes and he will let them get away with murder. In return, both of them are seriously devoted to making the team The Best EverTM. The first time the Whitebeards saw Ace throw a hail mary pass they swore it was going way too wide until Luffy tore down the whole length of the field, leapt like the monkey he is higher than anyone thought possible and slammed that ball down. Now the Whitebeards know to expect anything.

Also in my head Ace is the canon 2-3 years older than Luffy, and while he only became his legal guardian upon turning 18, he has helped raised him and the Whitebeards do a double-take every time responsible Ace comes out. Before Luffy joins the team Ace has to beg early off practice to go to a parent-teacher conference. After they're both on the team Ace still makes him PB&J sandwiches after practice, unruffled by doing it in front of everyone in the locker room.

Bootleg Marineford is a game where everyone (and especially Ace, under a lot of pressure) has been physically and mentally wrung out. The Marines team keep trying to sack Ace and get closer and closer, but Marco digs in his heels and makes an impassable barrier of himself. Until there's a crack in the line... And a small opening forms where Teach, who has been fighting with everyone recently, but especially Whitebeard and Ace, stands. Offensive player Akainu, who probably weighs twice what Ace does, hits him like an avalanche. Ace goes down. When Akainu is finally dragged off him, he stays down.

Luffy and Whitebeard are sprinting across the field toward Ace, but Marco's mind has hit the blue screen of death. There's nothing but static behind his eyes as he stares at his fallen quarterback.

The game is suspended and put up for a rematch. Neither Ace nor Marco, who did his level best to murder Akainu right there on the field, play.

(Ace is eventually fine, but now knows up front and personal the effects of a long-term concussion).

Claims not to know that much about American football, proceeds to clearly and accurately describe the exact plot I was also imagining—

YES! Are you KIDDING ME? This is perfect, I’ve got more

They don’t call him ‘Fire Fist’ for nothing, the kid throws missiles. The way Ace and Luffy find each other across an entire football field drops most people’s jaws.

Luffy will track the ball wherever Aces throws it. If Luffy get’s hurt in a collision catching the ball, Ace firmly believes that’s his fault.

That being said, Luffy is notoriously indestructible.

Bootleg Marineford: (That’s a hilarious thing to call it btw)

There was a flag thrown the second Ace got hit. Yes, it was Teach’s fault for leaving an open window. And. Akainu was needlessly brutal. Whitebeard was cursing him out before they even hit the ground.

Luffy was incredibly protective over Ace while he was unconscious. There were cameras everywhere.

Marco needed three people to pull him off Akainu. Instead of apologizing, he later told the media he’d gladly do it again.

Ace is out for the rest of the season. He’s absolutely devastated. That being said, he stood on the sidelines for every game.

Physical and neurological therapy were a bitch. Lots of ‘long talks’ with Pops.

Of course, Ace comes back to the field as soon as he’s better. Now, playing with the most overprotective offensive line you’ve ever seen in your life.

Thank you for writing this, it was so much fun to read!! And there’s a lot I didn't even mention like the adjusted age gap (perfect for this) and parent teacher conferences— I love it all!