#this is worded awfully but you get the picture lol

[metranart]

hi! it’s me

i wanted to ask you how would the jjk guys react to you getting their lips tatted on you..?(specifically gojo)

like you got them with lipstick and they kiss a paper then the tattoo artist makes it a stencil in red and you put it right under your boob..?

(don’t do this if your uncomfy with it! also take your time your probably busy)

xoxo,em! take care

Hi sweets, sorry for the long wait, I've been awfully busy but here it is, I made it specially smutty to compensate lol hope you like it :) btw... I love your requests ;)

How would the JJK guys react to you getting their lips tattooed on you 💋

Ft. Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Choso, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna.

SATORU GOJO

Five missed calls and four unseen texts. Gojo sighs, scratching the back of his neck, he hated it when you left him on read. What could you be doing that was so damn important to ignore him.

The sound he had been waiting for since the day started makes his ears ring with excitement and without wasting a second, he opens the text message with your name on it.

Gojo Satoru's eyes widen, and his black glasses slide down the bridge of his nose almost comically thanks to his jaw dropping a little, all at the sight of the picture attached to a cute and adorable message that says:

"Do you like it?"

Gojo growls under his breath, subtly pulling with a shaky finger at the collar of his shirt, suddenly it's too hot there, his cheeks turn an accusatory red and his breathing has grown labored. Even his palms are sweating, for fuck's sake! What's wrong with him?! It's just the shape of his lips on the delicious curve of your under-boob. Shit! He's about to bust a cap inside his pants.

"Satoru-" Nanami's stoic voice breaks his trance and looking around almost as if had forgotten he was in the middle of a briefing, gets up and without any further explanation than: "Emergency!" Leaves the school, leaving behind and unattended, all his duties and mental sanity.

"Did you see the message on his phone, Geto?" a puff of smoke lazily comes out of Shoko’s curious mouth and Geto shrugs. "I saw that it was from (Y/N)." The black-haired snickers and everyone let out a unison, heavy sigh.

Gojo arrives in less time than is humanly possible at your apartment and without warning, not even a ‘hey, babe’, or a: ‘I just teleported myself into your room, hope you don’t mind’. You are dragged by your tall and strong boyfriend, special grade sorcerer and stripped of your top.

"S-Satoru, baby?"

You try to figure out what has him so bristled and with the delicacy of a saint but the curiosity of a child, he yanks your bra up, your delicious breast spills from underneath and his tattooed lips greet him.

"Shit!" is the first word you hear him say and it's almost a painful pant. "Those are my lips, aren't they? This is why you asked me to kiss that paper using the lipstick-...." he sounds accusatory but also incredibly excited.

You nod and let out a sigh that you didn't know were holding. "Phew! When you didn’t answer my text, I thought you didn't like it-"

"Not like it..." he sounds almost offended, and your bra is discarded when he pushes you on your back in the bed. "Not like it?! I love it! I want to eat you whole, (Y/N), I'm only holding back because I need to ask something first."

Being pinned down by his weight and his gentle hands on either side of your jaw, Gojo steals the little space and whispers his question against your ear. "Are you still sensitive from the tattoo, or can I give you a new one with the original source?" 

He kisses your earlobe playfully, and you can’t help but giggle dumbly, as you can't help your voice from shaking with excitement. "I’m not made of sugar-"

You can't even finish the sentence when his lips begin the endless and shameless work of awakening every nerve ending in your skin, the desperation palpable in the white-haired sorcerer as every piece of clothing is torn from your body and his and discarded on the floor as impure.

Purple mockeries of your tattoo in the form of hickeys adorn every patch of your sensitive neck like a new necklace, small bites from the small curve of your shoulder to the sinful curve of your waist, nipples swollen and perked from the greedy skating of his tongue on them. Gojo is not being rough, but he is not being gentle either, he is brutal in his advance but methodical and careful that your moans do not change tone.

"I'm going to tattoo myself on you from the inside out," his warn is muffled against your breast as his mouth devours the plump peak of flesh. Paying special attention to pressing his lips against your tattoo over and over and over again, as if certifying its authenticity and quality. The silhouette was exact, the perfect shape of his greedy lips. It was an almost erotic sight for him.

"Huh?"

"Sure,” he chuckled low before keep going, “white ink specially made for you. You'll see, I’m an awesome artist," having you panting, sweating and squirming isn’t enough for him. Oh no! he needs more, Satoru Gojo claims for something more permanent than a mere tattoo. "...My tattoos last nine months inside, and eighteen years outside, they talk and call you mommy, I’m that talented, sweets" tangled between his muscular limbs, your new resting place, he does whatever the fuck he wants with you. 

You feel the massive shape of his warm cock against your thigh, he’s been pumping himself no end, not letting you touch him not letting you aid him for fear of wasting his first load, that tasty, thick load he's been preparing especially for you. The mere graze of your fingers on him will be his end, he knows it, so he won’t ask nor accept your help, even when he longs to wrap your fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut. Or better yet, wrap your perfect mouth around his cock and suck him off�� NO! he now’s not the time for him to be negligent. 

Once loaded, abandons his quest for relief and rests his warm palm on your belly massaging it as if molding it to fit something of his, while the other keeps playing with your cunt, enjoying the way you suck his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. 

“I never thought someone would be able to awaken my paternal instinct-... did my clan hire you, sweets?” he scoffed, playfully. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy moans and whimpers but the way your muscles are tensing and spasming around his digits. The desperate rocking of your hips against his palm, as a firm beg for relief.

“It's just a tattoo....”

“Na ah!” His hand continues playing with your tummy, your navel, the curve of your waist almost obsessively while his tongue makes out with the curve of your neck. “This was your way of telling me that you want me forever..." long finger prod at your gummy walls, searching for that hidden blessed spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

"Let me show you how gifted I am, my sweet girl..." 

He finds it in matter of seconds, and you lose all kind of restriction and complaint and Gojo can’t help but smirk against your neck as you tighten and quiver around his digits. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his thumb pressed over your clit, flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles a deep purple hickey on the skin. Long, thick fingers guiding you through madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, oversensitive body to handle.

"Y-Yes, Satoru, shown me, fill me, mark me-… do whatever the fuck you want-"

You convulse in the spare seconds of glorious pleasure before cumming with a strangled shriek, and Gojo’s groan muffles against your skin when can finally sink in one roll of his hips, feeding you that fat cock he’s been pumping to the edge just for this exact moment, buries deep inside you, kissing your cervix in that one thrust of raw meat. With an animalistic grunt, spills his soul inside your womb, pouring every last drop of cum he's been cooking in those heavy balls until he empties himself, flooding your inside with his gifted seed. A rush of juices gushes from your trembling cunt onto your connected lower halves, and you feel and hear him pant like a dog next to your ear, as both come down from the high. 

"Am I your favorite tattoo artist or what?"

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

NANAMI KENTO

He's stoic and serious, almost unmoving in his unflappable staring as you lift your shirt so he can see your new tattoo. His silent disposition is starting to make you more than a little nervous, since you know that Nanami Kento isn't exactly a crazy animal, but rather, a calm and quiet being who hides a wild side that he only shares with those closest to him. Making you wonder if you fall into that category or not, as his silence as he inspects the tattoo of his lips under your boob is virtually killing you with anxiety.

"Those are your lips, my love." You explain again, even though you've already done it three times, and you receive the same ‘mphm’ sound he made the first three times. 

"Remember? -… remember when I ask you to kiss a paper?"

"I do."

"Well, I gave that to the tattoo artist, and he made it a stencil in red and then I ask him to put it right under my boob...?"

"I see."

Those calm eyes, analyze from every possible angle the tattoo of his lips on your skin, it had never been so difficult for you to read your boyfriend. "Do you like it, do you hate it? Tell me anything, Kento."

Silence and more close observation.

You close your eyes, squeezing your eyelids shut as you take that deep breath of air, you need so much, and you are about to demand an answer when you feel it...

Your eyelids suddenly open looking down and there you find him: Your stoic, boyfriend, the sensible and calm man who is always in control, kneeling in front of you while pressing his lips against your tattoo, the round softness of your boob loses its shape momentarily as the blond pushes his face more firmly against the plump skin. The most unexpected kiss that you have ever shared and for some reason, the most erotic, too.

"K-Ken?"

"Did it hurt?" he asks suddenly from his kneeling position and the threat of you stuttering makes you just shake your head. Nanami steals another kiss against the softness of your breast like he can’t have enough of the sensation. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

You nod, mesmerized by the sudden attention this blond showers you with, his hands caressing your bare back from top to bottom, slow and gentle with the tips of his fingers, it's delicious and it melts away the anxiety you may have been feeling, now, malleable in his hands. You let his face sink further into the curve of the tattoo of his lips and you moan his name as if you want to taste it rolling down your tongue.

"Nanami."

"... Do you still have the lipstick?"

"Huh?" That request brings you out of your reverie a little, and you look at him with some confusion, to which he smiles, that smile that makes you weak in the knees. "Y-Yes, it's in my purse."

"Lend it to me, darling."

With his palm splayed wide open he waits for you to hand over the lipstick. Digging for the cosmetic, he waits patiently until it's resting in his open hand and before you can air your doubts, he stands up, lifting you into his arms to take you with him, those muscular limbs feel like the safest place in the world and you nuzzle your nose into his neck to breathe in his scent combined with his cologne, and it’s intoxicating, so much so that you almost miss his next question.

“I’d like to suggest a few other places where my lips would look just as amazing on your body.”

“Kento!” you startle, it’s adorable to him and closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours, tasting, nibbing and licking as he carries you to his room. “You take suggestions don’t you, sweetie?” 

He chuckles at the flush growing wild on your cheeks, and you feel the softness of the mattress on your back as he sets you down with the care of a saint, before beginning to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. Your body shivers in anticipation and his lips curve up into the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen him make, his large hand reaching out one elegant finger towards you and beckoning you with it. 

You’re on your knees in front of him in seconds, his knuckles running down the length of your jaw in a silky caress that has you purring like a kitten, leaning into his touch. That smile only stretches further, as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the greedy grip on his lips, hunting for another kiss. 

Unfortunately, it ends too soon, and your mouth holds that pouty shape that demands another sweet kiss, but instead of his fleshy lips, you feel the creamy slick of lipstick painting your lips.

“Tell me, (Y/N),” Nanami is delighted with how docile you are to him as he finishes painting your lips red, and it’s the sound of his pants zipper coming down that catapults your eyes open, “what would you think of me tattooing your lips right here?”

His finger points along his defined obliques and your mouth waters, this man was sincerely praised by the gods themselves, every muscle in his abdomen defined, those deep lines going down to his crotch giving that ‘v’ shape to his torso, that sinful path of golden hair that disappears under his trousers. It's too much for you.

"I think I need to see what it looks like first and then I can give you an informed answer, Kento."

His broad chest rises and falls violently, sweat runs down his forehead and his cheeks are an explosion of color. This is your masterpiece. Nanami Kento’s fat cock fits with effort in your mouth, but you certainly do your best to get it to touch the back of your throat with every thrust, you can feel him getting close, his thighs tremble under your hands, his forearm covers his eyes, his cheeks are about to explode… he’s too close, and your tongue curling around the tip doesn’t help him resist, you suck him off for over ten minutes and you’re proud of that pleasurable ache in your jaw when he comes shamelessly hard at the back of your throat and your name rips through his esophagus as it echoes through the walls of his apartment. Eventually, his hand stops keeping your head pressed against his pelvis, and with a wet pop, his still semi-erect cock hangs in front of your face, lubed in your saliva.

“You’re right, I think it would look nice.”

You tell him, admiring the lipstick residue that adorns the shape of his cock and balls, a crimson kiss near the base, another at the shiny, cum-dripping tip, another resting on the roundness of his coarse balls, and you love the whole image. You want a fucking mural in your living room with this image.

“Hell no,” the blonde says breathlessly, barely trying to recover from your masterful blowjob, “…no needle is going to touch me down there,” he threatens playfully but serious enough, “if you like the way it looks, you’re going to have to paint it yourself every time.”

A giggle escapes your mouth, red lipstick smeared on your lips as you grin evilly at him. 

“You have yourself a deal, baby."

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

CHOSO KAMO

Choso can't control where the blood goes since, he met you, his cursed technique is out of control. That damn tattoo of his lips on the curve of your under-boob is driving him crazy, he thinks of it and the blood goes down to his crotch. He thinks of you and the blood makes a tent in his pants.

It's a mess that he's had to control with shameful continuous masturbation sessions. Jerking himself off, over and over, with your name as a mantra and the image of his lips tattooed on your breast as his banner.

"Shit, just go away." 

He murmurs with a tight voice, while his fist milks his fat cock in fast and violent motions, his flesh swollen painfully for more than an hour, he doesn't want you to come home from work and find him touching himself, he doesn't want you to find out that he lost control of his cursed technique. He had to lower himself to watching porn, something he had never done before, but it was of no use. So, he put on cream and although it had relieved him on other occasions, this time wasn't working its charm. Fuck! Pleaaaase-... maybe he needs more cream to slide better? No, no matter how much cream he spreads on it never compares even a little to your tight, little pussy. 

And it is the desperation, that he is running out of time that drives him to this miserable act. He takes, that one photo he treasures so much, out of the frame and places it between his fingers, his excitement growing as he looks at it, it is working. He beats his piece of swollen flesh more eagerly, grunting and growling like a dying animal, Fuck! he's close...his eyes close in concentration and his hand increases speed and pressure as his mouth hangs open… almost there, he can feel his balls tensing and tightening, so close, just a few more pumps, a couple more strokes, a little more pressure, almost there… his guts tighten and his brain enraptures in the moment forgetting to mind his surroundings, to enjoy the divine sensation that grows and grows and grows and FUCK!-

Choso Kamo cums, hard and heavy, rope after rope of creamy cum shoots out of the head of his cock like a mockery of how blood usually does when he uses his cursed technique, the pressurized jet of creamy juice spills out and doesn't finish pouring for about a minute straight. Once his balls are an empty, trembling sack, Choso can breathe again, his sweaty and naked torso rises and falls with violence that calms down the more air he sucks, the sweat begins to dry on his skin and his cheeks feel less hot. This was what he needed, the photo helped him a lot, although he can feel how he bathed it in cum, he can fix it quickly, clean every single trail of his sin before you get home-

"C-Choso?"

His hand, which was riding out the last few strokes of pleasure on his ultra-sensitive cock freezes and his eyes snap open to find you staring at the mess he is, just what he wanted to avoid, damn it! -

"B-Baby, I-" he starts to stutter and stops abruptly when his eyes register what he did.

Your cheeks are painted a deep red but that's to be expected, what's not to be expected are the cum globes that slide down your pretty face, down your cheeks, varnishing your eyelashes and part of your eye, messing up your perfect hairdo, staining your work uniform. Choso enraptured himself so much in his own fantasy that he didn't notice when you walked through the door, or when you approached him.

Now, he has no idea how to begin to apologize, the words are stuck in his dry throat. Are you angry? Are you furious with him? Your beautiful eyes only watch him, better said, ogle him: pants pooling at his ankles, shirt bunched up to his neck, his cock limp but slowly filling with blood again between his trembling fingers, the cockhead shiny and pink and still, spewing cum to further mortify him. 

Choso is paralyzed, unable to move and his mouth barely managing to open to spit out any explanation, snaps shut again from the shame that crushes him.

But that shame turns to bewilderment when his eyes catch the subtle movement of your hand gathering a glob of his cum that slides down your cheek, with all the delicacy and grace that define you, and you play with it for a second between your fingers before opening your mouth and dipping the digits between your tongue. Choso's jaw drops to the floor and his breathing hastens again, his cursed technique going out of control once more, summoning blood to that still throbbing and extra-sensitive part.

Your pretty lips curve into a feline grin that makes him feel like your prey, and he swallows hard, clenching his fists to keep his body from shaking, when his eyes meet yours.

“Is this what you do when I go to work, sweetheart?” you ask, licking your lips to collect the cum resting there, “you jerk off while looking at my graduation picture?” a flirtatious giggle escapes you when you specify, “...same picture where your little brother is, too, how dirty.”

Choso is a bundle of nerves, blood just keeps pooling where it shouldn’t, he’s so hard and swollen that your eyes drop there almost automatically.

“I’ll take care of cleaning everything-” 

You interrupt his apology, raising a finger to get his attention so he can see you, as you lift your pencil skirt up to your thighs and slowly settle yourself comfortably on top of his lap, nestling his cock between your warm stockinged thighs. Choso shivers and carefully as if asking for permission, let his large hands slide down those wide, inviting thighs. 

“…How about you start by cleaning me up first?” Your warm hand tangles around his firm erection and he growls low, “Then you get me dirty again,” you slide those fingers up and down on his stiffness in shameless incitement and smile when notice his eyes roll back his skull, “and we repeat it all until dawn.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes, whatever my girl wants-…” the words rush from his mouth, “…just one request,” an eyebrow rises on your face, and he grins, warm and almost, shyly. “May I see the tattoo of my lips again?”

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SUGURU GETO

“Do you… Do you really like it, Suguru?” You ask, lolling your head forward and humming when his fingers slowly travel up and unclasp your bra, the last barrier you have left to cover yourself.  Every little breathy sound you make comes ragged and soiled with a mix of uncertainty and excitement.

“Way too much, baby,” his low voice carefully admits from above you.  “I don’t know why you hid it from me in the first place. Don’t—don’t do that. You don’t have to. EVER.”

Your breathing keeps picking up when he keeps trailing his hands around either side of your now naked torso, running the tips of his fingers down your ribs and slowly tracing the curve of your breast, letting the pads of his fingers memorize the shape of his tattooed lips on your skin.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” Suguru whisper, quite suddenly emboldened by his growing need. The gentle caresses pause at the very top of perked nipple, holding there for a second while he seems to think about it. “Please, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Soon his touch lifts away and he appreciates the sound your hands make, as those little limbs make haste in follow his request, the muffled shuffling of fabric being stripped of your skin somewhere close by and the soft noise it makes dropping to the floor, close to erotic to the first-grade sorcerer. And then suddenly—

“Oh, God—” you breathe, nearly melting into the seat of his school office when large, warm palms meet your skin and slowly start to ride the curve of your neck and collarbone downwards. Dammit, why does it feel so good?  Suguru Geto smirks, like the knowing devil that he is. “Do my hands feel amazing, baby? It’s just two palms, ten fingers-”

 “…. But they’re so strong and raspy and big….” Your mouth babbles unrestrainedly, “touch me more, Geto….”

One palm butterfly out across your breast and you moan, lewdly loud. “If Director Yaga hears, I’m going to be so fired, pretty.”

“S-Sorry…” 

Dipping and squeezing the soft, pillowy flesh of your boobs, Suguru Geto stares down at you, drinking every emotion and expression he can rip out of you. “Ho—fuck, like that.” Your approval is everything to him.

“I know,” Suguru murmurs, his voice ocean-deep and scraping across the shell of your eager ear when he leans closer from his privileged height to press one bended knee to the chair, right in between your thighs. He lets one hand drift down into the space he created and rub circles on the moist mound of flesh there, as his other hand comes up to cradle your chin, urging you to stretch your neck up and long for him. “You look so pretty like this— all naked and horny for me.”

“Someone might come in, lock the door…” you breathe in protest, remembering your shy nature, and he ignores you, slowly dragging his palm down your trembling slit.

“You don't get a tattoo as sensual as that, if you don't want everyone to drool after you,” he says, and you’re helpless to stop the embarrassing way your knees suddenly jerk farther apart when his hand moves to press a fat finger on your clit. “… Showing all the monkeys how sexy you are, and then showing them that you belong ONLY to me.”  

And then he squeeeezes your bundle of nerves, and your hips nearly come off the seat with it.

Nothing else exists besides your boyfriend’s pair of hands now gripping the bottom of the chair, to position your body closer to him. You hear yourself take exactly one shaky breath before his arms suddenly slithered under your knees, hauling you forward. Your lower back dips in at the angle, your pelvis now jutted out and propped up by the edge of the seat.  

Suguru Geto licks his lips as if he as if a banquet were being presented to him and the following is him lowering himself to the floor in front of you, running those deliciously strong palms up the length of your thighs. Your new position encourages you to spread your legs wider for him.

“I think my lips, tattooed here,” his long, cascading loose hair caresses the inner skin of your thighs as he leans down to the lower curve of your tummy and places a soft, warm kiss, “would look great, as well.”

“Y-You think?” 

Your quivering lips exhale at the feeling of his hot, plump lips meeting your feverish skin, and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual you give him, goosebumps spread all you’re your body.  

“I know it,” He promises, opening you up wider, subtly moving himself closer into the gap and letting you cradle his torso with your knees.

“Mine to feast on, mine to pamper,” the special grade sorcerer rumbles quietly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he licks his lips, hungrier. “So, mine to… own.”

“….-Own?”

And then you’re abruptly cut off by your own gasp when a soft, dexterous tongue slowly envelopes your clit. His lips slick between your folds as his rogue tongue flicks out like hot velvet to flutter greedily over your clit, humming low in his throat as he eats you with unreserved gluttony.

“Fuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven,” he rumbles against your sloppy pussy, “my sweet girl laying with her legs open and letting me eat her after I’m done giving classes—….”  

“Su-Sugu… oh, fuck—” Your words are barely discernible through the pleasure, deformed by the sound of your breaths and gasps. “Do—Do you think someone can h-hear us?”

Suguru smirk is swallow by your folds and his snicker muffled by his need to keep eating you to even let you know that a six eyes user had been spying from the other side of the door since you started. 

“Noones at the school at these hours but us teachers, baby. Don’t worry your pretty head.” 

His fingers curl against your thighs, his tongue swirling gentle circles around your swollen clit as he sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt. Both of your hands thrust out without thinking and snatch at his loose raven mane, fingers burying themselves into thick waves of hair. “Oh—f-fuck—”

He makes a rough little growl into your warmth every time you tug on his hair, and you tug every time, he pulls his fingers out and then pushes them back in again, until it becomes a vicious circle where both do that steadily, over and over until you’re sweating, hips arching up and doing everything you can to entice him to hurry the fuck up.

Suguru snickers again at your impatience, instead, he’s unbelievably slow, continuing to lick his hot tongue through your folds as his eager finger fuck you, so utterly patient and steadfast, learning the right notes to drive you crazy.

“You are close, aren’t you, dove?” he flicks that wicked tongue applying more pressure to your abused clit, “something’s beginning to burn in your core, I can see the cursed energy spreading threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis.” Suguru narrated what he felt with his own cursed energy, without a doubt the out-looker seeing the same as he was, just in HD. “It rises through your abdomen like unstoppable wave, seeps down into your knees and wraps around them. Your breathing is getting shallower, the base of your lungs suddenly feels too cramped by the oncoming explosion. I know, baby, just let it happen, don’t hold back. You can squirt on my face. I’m eager for you to baptize me on your fountain of love—”  

“Stop it, Suguru… I’m-I’m not…. I will not….” 

Your resistance is nothing but amusing to him, this is your nemesis. You hate how sensitive you are, how easy your boyfriends read you and undoes you with his mere tongue, you hate that squirting jet that makes your toes curl and your eyes blank, but once it’s over, makes you very aware of the mess you made.

Suguru finally speeds up, and that rock steady display of ferocity makes you want to cry.

“—I-I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, everything inside pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his hair turning to iron. “—Oh, fuck, I’m g-gonna cum—I-I—”

A quiet mhmmm sound rumbles low in gentle encouragement, and then he takes a second to softly suck on your clit to push you over the edge. His fingers curl, press up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, Suguru Geto knows you so well is almost unfair, and bite your lip is all you can do to stifle a sob when your body suddenly erupts in searing burning ecstasy.

Your back arches and you cum in his mouth, wailing his name while he groans raggedly and drags you through it. It’s hot and wet, in equal parts chaos and bliss. You’re still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, mindful of rewarding you with as much love as he can profess in one single, chaste kiss. It’s over way too soon though, and by the time you open your eyes again, you blearily blink them at him. He’s already standing, impeccable and not one strand of raven hair out of place. A swift smirk curving his lips while his stare never strays from your destroyed persona, heaving and sweating and naked in a public place. Fuck! He adores you so much.

“Are you hungry?” He eventually asks looking straight ahead instead of you, the low frequency of his natural voice not masked anymore by his arousal.

You blink up at him twice, still slouched over the seat butt-naked, trying to figure out who is he talking to, all your clothes spread around his desk and the floor when you hear some familiar voice answer from the other side of the door.

“Starving.”

CLICK HERE TO READ ALL MY JJK SMUT FANFICTION COMMISSIONS

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The euphoric sway of his hips meeting yours should be an affront to the natural order, your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, had been maintaining the same rhythm, precision and firmness in each thrust for more than forty minutes. 

You are cockdrunk, you don’t remember your own name, only his. Which comes out of your trembling lips in pieces or unfinished syllables. Your mind is a mess, a rabid mess of hormones and pleasure, but your insides are the most affected, making you endure mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm that shake your frame violently, leaving all your muscles exhausted and sweaty. Breathing ragged, face pressed against the sheets of his bed and your wrists swallowed by his large hands against the firm mattress, while he introduced you again and again to your new deity, his thick cock, which seemed just as hard and ready to continue making a mess of you. 

“…I’m sure you’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like that again now, won’t you, princess?”

Although his voice was breathless, it was still firm and solid, not like your pathetic moans.

“I…I thought you’d-…that you’d like it, Kuna-...” That sentence trailed from your half-open lips, between a sigh and a moan as he changed the angle to hit that spot of nerves inside you that made you see stars.

“I know you meant well but it was still unacceptable,” your boyfriend scolds you again, and a delicious shiver runs down your spine as his hands abandons your wrists in order to better hook on either side of your hip. The mere sensation of his thick fingers digging into your soft skin makes you cum again. "Fuck- you squeeze me so good, baby..." he praises, plunging his massive cock deeper into your quivering hole just to draw out more sensations, "-.... shit! If I cum again, are you going to keep it warm for me inside your tummy, princess?"

"Kuna, yes, always..." you moan into the sheets miserably, "don't stay mad at me, please, my love-"

"I loved the tattoo of my lips on your under-boob, don't doubt that" he affirms, firm thrusts clapping his midsection with yours, like giving his stamina a cheer. "But I HATED the fact that some guy had to do it. Don't you know any female tattoo artists, Isn't this the era of women's empowerment?"

You crawl forward and he catches you before you can shift positions. "Kuna, baby... let me ride you, so I can control the speed... I can't cum again-"

"I. Don't. care." He replies, skewering you again on his veiny, thick piece of meat that still feels like stone. "I'll put it in you as fast as I want and as long as I want until you learn your lesson-"

"Which is?"

"You, cocky little thing." He chuckles and emphasizes each word with a thrust. "Nobody. Touches. You. But. ME! Just ME."

“Mine.” Thrust, “Mine~” thrust, thrust, thrust, “MINE.” Thrustthrustthrustthrustthrustthrust—

Sukuna doesn´t hold himself back, even after he comes for the sixth time, he keeps going.

Slipping in and out of you, still rock hard, twisting you uncaringly in all kinds of positions and surfaces that his room provides, just fucking his cum inside you with every unpunished thrust.

You are tired, you are actually exhausted, you are emotional-... and you are drained.

“—I'm yours, just yours... hands off, w-world.... just y-yours~”

His hips stop, finally halting all movement when you give him what he's looking for, he just wants to hear that over and over again from your quivering lips and raspy throat, he just wants you to say it again. Maybe you should tattoo that as well.

Making you come one last glorious and almost painful time. Your naked body is left, used, sweaty and worn but warmly and safely wrapped in his arms. A huge smirk on his lips before he kisses your eyelids, so you open them again and once again you do.

"Now that we got that out of the way, let me see it again..." Sukuna asks, gently squeezing your tattooed boob inside his large palm, letting his eyes scan each patch of skin and how well he marked you with little hints of hickeys and teeth. "...I think we can play twister with every mark I left on your body," he snickers amused, "...but let's start with those lips on your breast."

“Jerk.”

He grins, satisfied. Hugging you harder to plaster your form closer to him, squeezing that sassy grin out of your pretty face.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

[egcdeath]

making a racket

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: social media au, dates aren’t really relevant but are there for formatting purposes, mentions of a sex tape but nothing explicit, drama, no use of y/n, usernames are random, grammar isn’t the best because it’s social media, angst, fluff, more drama, twitter, gossip websites, reddit, text messages, emails, deuxmoi, so many headlines.

summary: as a celebrity, you often can’t control the narrative. you find that out the hard way when you enter a relationship with an infamous retired tennis player.

word count: 5k

author’s note: this fic was inspired by this request and was so fun to write! also, i apologize in advance if i somehow tagged you because of your username!!!

key: DM = deuxmoi (a celebrity gossip account on instagram)

CDAN = crazy days and nights (a website with blind items)

blind items = basically a riddle for celebrity gossip

EGOT = Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony Awards

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: today thee tennis princess herself followed retired tennis player patrick zweig. he has not yet followed her back.

[alt text: screenshot of mother following patrick zweig on instagram]

6:07 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

cleo - @filmsn0b

@popculturelvr9 could it be for that new biopic abt the tennis player?

6:08 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates  - @popculturelvr9

@filmsn0b god i hope so. it’s about time she brought home an oscar. 

6:08 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @filmsn0b it’s not a biopic fyi but that makes sense. they just started production a few days ago so he’s prob helping her learn how to play

6:10 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@lalalanding @filmsn0b like i said….. the Oscars are not ready for her. 

6:10 PM 8/12/22 From Earth

——

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

GUYS you will never guess who i just met

10:30 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@profhater who?

10:32 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

see for yourself

[alt text: me with the queen herself AHHHH]

10:32 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@profhater @popculturelvr9 LOOK

10:34 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@lalalanding @profhater OMG

10:42 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@lalalanding @profhater what did she say to you?

10:42 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

@popculturelvr9 @lalalanding i told her i loved her work then made some random guy she was with take the picture lol 

10:55 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9 

@profhater @lalalanding ugh i wish i was you

10:42 PM 8/22/22 From Earth

----

@deuxmoi - 9/13/22

SPOTTED

let’s see what your favorite celebs have been up to since last week

hi! i served (no pun intended) that former tennis player patrick zweig and that one actress from that one dramedy show that swept the award circuit last year at the country club i work at this weekend. they were super nice and tipped very generously! idk if they’re dating but they were definitely wearing matching outfits. 

not the first time we’ve 

heard she’s a good tipper

—-

@deuxmoi - 9/25/22

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: COURTING her

Email: balls@aol.com 

Subject: award darling and no one’s darling

Message: i work on the set of the production for a very highly anticipated movie for next summer and a leading actress and her “personal trainer” have been getting awfully cozy. we’ve caught him leaving her trailer a number of times. he definitely doesn’t fit her sweet girl persona. 

——

Blind Item #13 

This newly critically acclaimed TV actress has had her head in the clouds lately. After various reports of spotting her making quite a Racket with a consulting crew member, her publicist has been scrambling to put out fires and advising her to move on, but she insists on seeing him. 

Someone call HR.

October 3, 2022

——

r/Fauxmoi

u/aintnodiva

I know it’s not from DM but does anyone know who this might be?

[alt text: Screenshot of Oct. 3, 2022’s Blind Item #13 from CDAN]

⬆3 ⬇

u/sinkingships212

Racket makes me think of tennis, tennis makes me think of that one upcoming movie, so I’m gonna guess Patrick Zweig is involved somehow. 

⬆15 ⬇

u/aintnodiva

No wayyy is he with the lead actress then?

⬆5 ⬇

u/sinkingships212

I doubt it. Their vibes seem totally mismatched lmao. Besides, she’s in too good of a place in her career to be with a guy whose dick pics are one Google search away.

⬆8 ⬇

u/teaspilllllt

did anyone else see that submission to DM a few weeks ago about the production for that movie? it basically said the same thing

⬆3 ⬇

u/sinkingships212

I forgot about that. It’s probably just speculation then.

⬆6 ⬇

——

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: it looks like the tennis movie has wrapped! this is queen leaving the set today

[alt text: paparazzi picture of a beautiful gorgeous radiant woman getting into her ride tonight]

9:45 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🌸💐🌺 - @floraflorals

@popculturelvr she looks so sad omg who hurt her 😭

9:46 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@floraflorals idk who did but i need to fight them

9:47 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @floraflorals girl probably patrick zweig

9:47 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🌸💐🌺 - @floraflorals

@lalalanding ew

9:51 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@floraflorals @lalalanding she’s probably just sad to be wrapping honestly 

9:52 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @floraflorals i still blame That Man

9:53 PM 10/15/22 From Earth

----

Blind Item #7

This highly anticipated movie featuring a highly in-demand prestige actress had a particular crew consultant stay far longer than what was necessary. From consultant, to trainer, to fuckbuddy? With production wrapping, these coworkers are not so sure where they stand. 

Someone should’ve intervened months ago. 

November 16, 2022

—--

Blind Item #4

The holidays are coming around, and this couple who are more like a double still don’t know where they stand. Maybe asking someone allergic to commitment to come to Thanksgiving was a mistake. 

November 24, 2022

—-

Instagram

@finstalice: holiday photodump!

1 hour ago

@spammmacy: i’m dead why was that tennis guy at your thanksgiving 💀

45 minutes ago

@finstalice: @spammmacy lololol a friend brought him over for friendsgiving

40 minutes ago

@spammmacy: did he do any tennis tricks for yall

37 minutes ago

@finstalice: @spammmacy ik ur joking but after a few drinks he literally did. u should’ve seen the girl who brought him 😭 she was so embarrassed but went right back to smooching him after

33 minutes ago

@spammmacy: how did she not get the ick

31 minutes ago

@finstalice: @spammmacy love is a mysterious thing

22 minutes ago

——

The Independent 

December 13, 2022

Former tennis star Patrick Zweig and up-and-coming actress cozy up at intimate dinner

On Friday, the pair grabbed Italian at a notoriously hard-to-get-into restaurant. The couple shared dishes and drinks and seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. 

Zweig, 29, recently retired after a season that ended in injury. His retirement came after a series of scandals, most notably being a risqué leak of his camera roll. 

At 29 herself, she is coming off the heels of a very busy award season. Taking home her first Best Actress Emmy and BAFTA awards, she also recently received her second ensemble cast award.

The two seem to be an interesting pair, having finished wrapping a movie they were both working on in late October. The unlikely friendship comes on the heels of murmurs about a potential relationship.

“They’ve been enjoying their newfound friendship. It's rare for her to find someone with similar life experiences that she can genuinely bond with,” an insider told us. 

We have to wonder what they discussed over dinner. 

——

Buzzfeed

January 1, 2023

Cheers to the New Year! 5 Celebrity NYE Parties You Wish You Attended. 

1.Forget Kim Kardashian—If you weren’t at this rising star’s NYE party, you weren’t living!

Attendees included fellow co-stars from her critically acclaimed show, cast and crew from her recently wrapped tennis-themed film, and Patrick Zweig, who she’s been spotted with a number of times. Are they our newest OTP? Vote for your favorite speculated couple in this poll here. 

——

Daily Mail

January 14, 2023

Method Acting? Two-time Emmy winner laughs with friends at Australian Open.

The television star, who hasn’t shown interest in the sport prior to her casting in her upcoming film, appeared to be relaxed and laid back with friends. Former tennis professional and new tennis consultant, Patrick Zweig, appeared to explain the ins and outs to her. The pair seemed particularly close as they shared concessions and laughter. 

Her team declined to comment. 

——

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: mother was spotted looking absolutely splendiferous at the Australian Open today. 

[alt text: queen with some of her friends and that tennis guy]

10:45 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 awww she’s so cute

10:47 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@lalalanding @popculturelvr9 and of course he’s just there

10:48 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

💐 - @zweignatorrr

@sagingthetl @lalalanding @popculturelvr9 can we please just be honest with ourselves and acknowledge that they’re together lol

10:51 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@zweignatorrr @lalalanding @popculturelvr9 i mean yeah obviously they are but i don’t like him

10:55 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@sagingthetl fair but you have to admit they’re a cute couple 

10:55 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@popculturelvr9 no i don’t

10:56 AM 1/14/23 From Earth

——

r/TennisGossip

u/makearacquet

AITA for shipping Patrick Zweig and that actress???

I just saw a very convincing timeline on Tumblr. They’ve been distracting me at the Open. Kinda cute if they’re actually dating. Really weird if they’re just friends.

⬆-45 ⬇

u/backhandedd

YTA for not posting about the actual Aus Open during the Aus Open.

⬆48 ⬇

——

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: PATRICK ZWEIG AND MYSTERY GIRL SPOTTED GETTING FRISKY IN ALLEYWAY

January 15, 2023

Looks like today's Australian Open winners weren’t the only ones who got lucky. 

TMZ obtained an exclusive photo of retired tennis player Patrick Zweig getting hot and bothered in Australia. Though we haven’t identified his mystery woman, there’s speculation around the woman being former fling and fellow retired player Tashi Duncan, who was also spotted at the Open, or a new coworker, who Zweig was spotted sitting next to yesterday.

Zweig’s team declined to comment. 

—-

Professional Mess Cleaner: Hello?

Professional Mess Maker: hi what’s up??

Professional Mess Cleaner: Don’t even what’s up me right now.

Professional Mess Cleaner: Are you serious?

Professional Mess Maker: yes lol what’s wrong

Professional Mess Cleaner: tmz.com/patrick-zweig-and-mystery-girl-spotted-getting-frisky-in-alleyway/02948289339

Professional Mess Cleaner: THIS IS WHAT’S WRONG!!!!!

Professional Mess Maker: shittttt

Professional Mess Cleaner: Is that all you have to say for yourself!!!??? 

Professional Mess Cleaner: I hope for both of our sakes that your stupid boyfriend is cheating on you.

Professional Mess Maker: rude

Professional Mess Cleaner: I’m going to fistfight you.

Professional Mess Cleaner: You’re lucky none of these pictures show your face because it definitely shows his hand up your skirt. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: You couldn’t wait a few hours to go somewhere private?????

Professional Mess Maker: i told him we should wait.

Professional Mess Cleaner: TELL HIM HARDER NEXT TIME

Professional Mess Maker: sorry :,(

Professional Mess Maker: patrick says he’s sorry too

Professional Mess Cleaner: Apology not accepted. Especially not his.

Professional Mess Cleaner: What happened to being an easy client??? Are you getting your rebellious phase now??? Are you gonna be doing drugs on the front page of TMZ next week???

Professional Mess Maker: obviously not???? 

Professional Mess Cleaner: This week then??

Professional Mess Maker: i am not on drugs!!!!!

Professional Mess Cleaner: I wouldn’t know by the way you’ve been acting lately!!!

Professional Mess Maker: you can’t even tell who he’s making out with pls unclench

Professional Mess Cleaner: Please share who else it would be. So someone else’s publicist can deal with it. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: And if you tell me to unclench again I will quit right this minute and let you deal with this yourself. 

Professional Mess Maker: the article does mention tashi duncan by name but not me

Professional Mess Maker: but you’re so right i’m so sorry we will do better next time 😇

Professional Mess Cleaner: You better, or there won’t be a next time.

Professional Mess Cleaner: I’m serious.

——

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UNOFFICIAL UPDATE: this is definitely them making out lol

[alt text: patrick zweig making out with we know who]

10:51 AM 1/15/23 From Earth

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

@popculturelvr9 how romantic

10:53 AM 1/15/23 From Earth

💐 - @zweignatorrr

@popculturelvr that’s so invasive pls delete

10:58 AM 1/15/23 From Earth

—

@deuxmoi - 1/28/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: ace

Email: lovelovelove@aol.com 

Subject: DEUCE

Message: this athlete and actress have been giving it their all to stay away from each other. they’re both pap magnets which is a nightmare for people trying to keep their relationship secret! we’ll see if they make it to valentine’s day.

—-

@deuxmoi - 2/14/23

SPOTTED - V-DAY EDITION

let’s see what your favorite celebs have been up to since last week

i saw patrick zweig in trader joe’s buying a bunch of flowers and chocolates.

anon pls

chivalry is not dead

—-

Blind Item #9

This newly critically acclaimed actress has run into some conflict with her otherwise smooth sailing secret relationship. He’s tired of staying quiet and she’s not ready to come forward. She really believes that bringing him as her plus-one to this major award show will heal all wounds. Only time will tell.

March 13, 2023

—

Buzzfeed

March 21, 2023

Our Top 20 Best and Worst Dressed at the 2023 Oscars

Not everyone can be a winner in this prestigious award show. Not everyone can be a winner when it comes to outfits, either. 

Best

9. This beautiful gown, which was worn by the talented Emmy winner, was only made better by the help of friend Patrick Zweig, who helped fix the train a number of times on the red carpet. 

—

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

UPDATE: THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED AT CANNES FILM FESTIVAL

[alt text: mother looking resplendent while getting out of a car]

10:51 AM 5/15/23 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

@popculturelvr9 she’s glowing!!!!!

11:00 AM 5/15/23 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 i can’t wait for the first reviews of her movie

11:00 AM 5/15/23 From Earth

🎾 future EGOT winner updates - @popculturelvr9

@lalalanding they’re saying this is gonna get her the oscar and i’m not even being delusional

[alt text: a review posted on instagram that says “she’s a powerhouse in this film and is arguably the emotional core of it. her performance is subtle, but moving. her physicality and delivery is like nothing i’ve ever seen before. definitely a contender for next year’s oscars.” the post was liked by her mom, her stylist, that tennis player, and thousands of others. ]

9:05 PM 5/15/23 From Earth

💐 - @zweignatorrr

@popculturelvr awww patrick is so cute for liking! such a supportive bf 🥹

9:38 PM 5/15/23 From Earth

🎬🎾 - @lalalanding

@popculturelvr9 @zweignatorrr we don’t care about that man

9:44 PM 5/15/23 From Earth

—-

@deuxmoi - 7/19/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: double fault

Email: morelovelovelove@aol.com 

Subject: pen pals

Message: this athlete-actress couple whose relationship is an open secret are very sad to be parting ways. she’s going on a month long press tour and he’s staying behind. they have plans to meet up at a few locations, but she’d rather be with him than promoting her movie that’s getting SERIOUS oscar buzz.

—-

From: Gone Fishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org)             June 22

To: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org)

CC: BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: How many strokes?

Price & Bait, 

Remember how we logged into that tennis guy Patrick Zweig’s iCloud? More specifically, how he wasn’t able to fully kick us out??

You’d never guess what we just found.

Regards,

Fishy

From: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org)         June 22

To: GoneFishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org), BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: RE: How many strokes?

Please share.

Thanks,

Price

From: Gone Fishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org)               June 22

To: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org), BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: RE: How many strokes?

📎 TAPE

See attached. 

Regards,

Fishy

From: FishersPrice (fishersprice101@iclouud.org)           June 22

To: GoneFishing (gonephishing@iclouud.org), BaitnSwitch (baitnswitch@iclouud.org) 

Subject: RE: How many strokes?

Fuck. We’re gonna be millionaires. 

Thanks,

Price

——

TMZ

June 23, 2023

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: PATRICK ZWEIG SEX TAPE LEAKED… AGAIN!

Someone hasn’t learned his lesson.

The lengthy video also features a two-time Emmy award winning actress, although it didn’t seem like she was doing much acting (unless she’s better than we thought.)

The pair briefly talk and giggle before getting straight to business. The video is as sweet as it is hot— and though they’ve insisted they’re just friends, their breathy love confessions say otherwise. 

Both parties declined to comment. 

—--

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

was not expecting to see patrick’s racket on my tl first thing in the morning but ok. good morning i guess. 

9:34 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

nasty girl - @matchmyfreqk

@zweignationupdates sorry but like…... link 

9:36 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

@matchmyfreqk check dms

9:40 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

nasty girl - @matchmyfreqk

@zweignationupdates why was that kinda beautiful 

10:25 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

ZWEIGNATORS - @zweignationupdates

@matchmyfreqk that’s what i said! like the hand holding?? the love yous?? when he said he was gonna miss her?? i didn’t realize it was like that for them

10:36 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

—-

CLOSED - @popculturelvr9

not an update but please don’t send us or ask us to talk about the tape. it’s a gross violation of privacy and it is honestly none of our business. 

11:23 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

CLOSED - @popculturelvr9

@popculturelvr9 if you bring it up you will be blocked btw! 

11:23 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@popculturelvr9 i swear it’s my whole timeline rn. i feel so bad for her

11:26 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

CLOSED -  @popculturelvr9

@lalalanded for it to happen right before the press tour is so bad. sending so many good vibes her way

11:26 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@popculturelvr9 i’m sure it’ll blow over soon

11:28 AM 6/23/23 From Earth

—-

r/TennisGossip

🔴HOT TOPICS

The tape. Let’s talk about it.

u/sinkingships

Is it really any of our business? Stuff like this happens all the time and as far as sex scandals go this one’s quite tame

⬆-2 ⬇

u/Tennisfan233445

Upvote if that was one of the hottest things you’ve ever watched. Downvote if you’re a liar. 

⬆564⬇

u/NothingbuttNet

if this showbiz thing doesn’t work out i think they have a solid backup plan 👀

⬆339⬇

——

Your Fav Femininity Coach - @putmeincoach

This tape is a perfect example of why I always tell my clients not to mess with men who are above them. Super promising career down the drain over some guy.

12:02 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

User 16363627919 - @user16363627919

@putmeincoach Obviously you don’t know what you’re talking about Patrick Zweig is a fucking tennis legend and that girl is nothing.

12:34 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@putmeincoach @user16363627919 NOTHING???? how many prestigious awards do YOU have, User 16363627919?? i don’t think they give awards out for being a misogynistic loser

12:44 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@putmeincoach this is such a dramatic take lol everyone’s gonna forget about this in a week when something else happens 

12:44 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

Your Fav Femininity Coach - @putmeincoach

@lalalanded We’ll have to see. Still, you shouldn’t settle for someone who makes you act out of character like this

1:08 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@putmeincoach do you know her personally? not everything is so black and white and obviously they both consented and thought this would be private. 

1:41 PM 6/24/23 From Earth

—-

@deuxmoi - 6/25/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: breakup

Email: goodbyelove@aol.com

Subject: Cumming and Going 

Message: Apparently, this former tennis star and actress are going their separate ways after an intimate video leaked. She’s worried about the damage it might do to her career and her ability to be taken seriously. He just wants her to be happy. Her publicist has been letting interviewers know that there will be no questions answered about the tape, but this will not be a fun press tour for her.

——

Blind Item #2

The damage has already been done for this athlete-actress pair. Still, she insists on suffering through a break up on top of this scandal. 

June 28, 2023

——

Blind Item #8

This retired athlete has received countless offers from the adult film industry in the last week. This scandal is somehow even more humiliating than his last five. He says he doesn’t care, but he does. A lot. 

June 28, 2023

——

Blind Item #11

She’s losing brand deals and partnerships left and right. If she makes it through the next week alive, let alone through her press tour, it’ll be a major miracle. 

June 28, 2023

——

DailyMail

June 30, 2023

Full of Regret: Actress spotted leaving her apartment with red-rimmed eyes

Just days after a scandalous tape was leaked, we’re receiving our first sign of life from the actress. 

According to insider DoorDash drivers, she has been a very frequent customer as of late, ordering comfort food and pints of ice cream and leaving very generous tips. 

She seemed to be waiting for the storm to blow over before reentering the public, but with her and her partner’s name trending on Twitter for the past several days, it seems unlikely that it’ll happen any time soon. 

——

Professional Mess Cleaner: Just checking in. How are you feeling today?

Professional Mess Maker: even worse than yesterday

Professional Mess Maker: i want to say something but i don’t know what

Professional Mess Cleaner: The gossip cycle has already started to move on, but if you really want to say something, I can draft up a response. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: The ball’s in your court ❤️

Professional Mess Maker: no more mention of balls please 

Professional Mess Cleaner: Sorry. Got it.

Professional Mess Maker: maybe you can just say something about not letting my own decisions impact the cast and crew who worked really hard to make the film happen

Professional Mess Maker: speaking of which, have you heard from patrick?

Professional Mess Cleaner: Do you want the truth or to protect your peace?

Professional Mess Maker: things can’t get any worse just give it to me straight 

Professional Mess Cleaner: I hear from him every few hours. He wants to know how you’re feeling. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: And if you’ll take him back. 

Professional Mess Maker: ugh

Professional Mess Cleaner: You know you don’t have to be separated if you don’t want to. The cat’s already out of the bag. A united front might be better for this kind of thing anyway. 

Professional Mess Cleaner: I know how much you care about him. You don’t have to go through this alone.

Professional Mess Maker: i’m not alone though <3

Professional Mess Cleaner: You know that isn’t what I mean.

Professional Mess Cleaner: He loves you. You should reach out to him.

Professional Mess Maker: i will

Professional Mess Maker: eventually 

——

Blind Item #6

Rumor has it that this pair, who were previously attached at the hip, haven’t said more than a few words to each other in months. That doesn’t mean the feelings stopped being there. 

September 15, 2023

——

DailyMail

September 27, 2023

Tension at the world premiere?

This weekend marked the world premiere of a film that has been generating a lot of Oscar buzz. The first reviews have been mostly positive, despite the very large elephant in the room.

The average onlooker couldn’t help but notice the physical distance between Zweig and the principal actress in the film during the premiere. Despite both being there, neither were photographed together throughout the entire event. The distance feels particularly charged, considering the pair made a movie of their own not too long ago. 

——

DailyMail

October 10, 2023

PATRICK’S NEW DOUBLES PARTNER?

Late this Thursday, Patrick Zweig was spotted leaving an intimate dinner with a female friend. This is the first time he’s been spotted since the leak of his now notorious sex tape. We would be remiss if we didn’t mention that the woman he was spotted having a romantic dinner with was not the same woman from the tape.

At least she knows what she’s in for.

——

DailyMail

October 12, 2023

Actress spotted on a date with ex-boyfriend

On Wednesday, the pair were seen holding hands as they walked through the park. 

She has not been spotted with her ex-boyfriend, who she starred in her prestige dramedy television with, for almost two years. Are these two getting back together? Or simply making amends?

——

@deuxmoi - 10/15/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: rebounder

Email: tape@aol.com 

Subject: kiss and make up already!

Message: this broken-up couple, who have been making headlines for the most innocuous things following a rather romantic scandal, very obviously miss each other. their friends know it, their coworkers know it, even their ‘rebounds’ know it. they think the other person is better off without them in their life, but that’s simply not true. 

——

@deuxmoi - 11/8/23

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, please: love

Email: tellingall@aol.com 

Subject: podcast

Message: i’m friends with a friend who knows the editor of a certain podcast that’s having a very highly anticipated guest do a tell-all about a scandal very soon. here are some of the things she addresses:

there’s nothing wrong with consenting adults doing consenting adult things—but you still need to be cautious

it’s nice to have some things for yourself but when you’re a public figure you don’t always get that

and finally…. she regrets how things played out in her relationship.

this should be a good episode. 

——

Blind Item #17

This DIY Filmmaker couple are FINALLY reconciling. They won’t be making any more home movies together anytime soon, but it seems like they’re picking right up where they left off. 

November 16, 2023

——

Buzzfeed 

December 5, 2023

Top 5 Dates to go on in New York City, According to our Favorite Celebs

3. The Brooklyn Botanic Garden

Following a major scandal and radio silence on the status of their relationship, these two were finally seen together in public at this garden. They both looked genuinely happy for the first time in months. If these two can make their rocky relationship work during a date like this, you can too. 

——

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

UPDATE: GUESS WHO MADE THE OSCARS SHORTLISTTTTTTTTTT

6:35 PM 12/22/23 From Earth 

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

UPDATE: the happy couple were spotted wearing matching ugly christmas sweaters today! i suspect they’re going to the annual christmas party she mentioned on Fallon. i hope they party hard and celebrate her making the shortlist!

8:21 PM 12/22/23 From Earth 

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

@popculturelvr9 ngl he’s growing on me!

8:25 PM 12/22/23 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

@sagingthetl i agree!

8: PM 12/22/23 From Earth

—

Blind Item #4

This athlete-actress couple have had quite the year. It’s only fitting that he proposed to her at the end of it. Expect to see more pictures of her hiding her hand in her pocket.

January 1, 2024

—

@deuxmoi - 1/2/24

SPOTTED - NEW YEAR EDITION

let’s see what your favorite celebs have been up to since last week

I served Patrick Zweig and his actress girlfriend at the diner I work at yesterday. They both looked very hungover and I’m 97% sure I saw her wearing an engagement ring. They were very sweet and left us a really big tip. 

—

r/TennisGossip

u/makearacquet

Has anyone checked up on Patrick Zweig and his girlfriend? I haven’t heard anything about them in kinda a while 

⬆13 ⬇

u/topspinbackspin

It’s so funny you say this. I have a friend who works for the production side of one of those really big entertainment magazines who does those roundtable for actors who are in talks for receiving awards. His girlfriend was just in one, and my friend told me that he was there and super supportive the whole time. Like, bringing her coffee the way she likes it, hyping her up during the photoshoot, and everything in between. Obviously we saw the worst of them a few months back, but they’re a pretty cute couple. I also heard somewhere that they’re engaged? But I don’t know if I believe it. 

⬆36⬇

—-

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

i’m shaking in my boots for the best actress announcement.

10:45 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

@popculturelvr idk i feel it in my bones she’s gonna win.

10:45 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

OMFG

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

🎾🎬 - @lalalanded

OH MY GOD

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

cleo - @filmsn0b

NO WAY

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

I KNEW IT LETS GO

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

tara 🦋🐬 - @profhater

IM SHAKING

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

SHES OFFICIALLY AN OSCAR WINNER I FANT BREATHE

10:55 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

sage ❄️ - @sagingthetl

AWWWW THE KISS THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SM

10:56 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

i’m sorry i literally cannot process anything rn did she just say thank you to her FIANCÉ

10:57 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

guys this is way too much. 2 awards left for her EGOT AND she’s engaged??2?3):7.8 i’m malfunctioning

10:58 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

oscar campaign era - @popculturelvr9 

who would’ve thought that a random instagram mutual follow would get us here. omfg. i love love. 

10:59 PM 3/20/24 From Earth

[armandsfangs]

Sometimes Armand gets those sad almost cat eyes and I temporarily forget he's an incredibly manipulative and dangerous vampire that will drain you for sport. Why do I picture him using this as a technique on humans. He gets to be held and comforted but also be a gremlin

Same. Tbh I think I'm especially soft for Armand because when his eyes are certain shades of light brown/amber they look like my dog's eyes lol

Anyways enjoy this crack fic that you inspired

---

One of the last places that Daniel expects to find Armand is sitting on a street corner inside an upturned cardboard box that has 'FREE KITTEN' hastily scrawled over the front in sharpie. Armand is draped in a loose-fitting forest green sweater, its colour complimenting his rich skin, and its sleeves falling well past his wrists in a style that Daniel vaguely remembers the kids call 'sweater paws'.

"So Louis got everything in the divorce or what?" Daniel asks wryly.

Armand, to his credit, manages to give Daniel a withering look through his artfully disheveled hair. "You're disrupting my plan, fledgling."

An eyebrow raise. "Alright, I'll bite. What the fuck are you trying to do here?"

"I'd rather you didn't. I'm hunting."

"Hunting?" Daniel echoes incredulously.

Armand has the audacity to look at Daniel as if Daniel is the stupid one in this situation. "Yes. And you're being a nuisance. Either hide somewhere or begone," he says testily.

They say curiosity killed the cat, but curiosity has already killed Daniel and brought him back into unlife as a vampire so he figures he must be doing something right in the grand scheme of things. So he gives in to his burning need to know what the fuck is going on inside his maker's head and hides just around the corner where he has a good view of Armand in his stupid little box.

He doesn't have to wait long before an unsuspecting human lady strolls down the street. She catches sight of Armand and startles, clearly debating turning around. But then Armand turns his wide amber eyes to look up at her, glistening as if filled with unshed tears. He seems to draw into himself like a frightened prey animal, hugging his knees with his oversized sleeves. Whatever this is must be amplified by the mind gift, because Daniel suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to scoop up Armand in his arms and take him home.

The human woman lets out a gasp, the way people do when they see a cute animal, and exclaims, "Oh! You poor dear! You can come with me!"

And she really does try to scoop him up. She bends down to wrap her arms around him, and in that split second, Armand looks over her shoulder and makes direct eye contact with Daniel. He does not need a telepathic link to know the smug look on Armand's face clearly says, "See? Hunting. It works." Armand's fangs emerge and swiftly sink into the woman's exposed throat. She doesn't even have time to scream as Armand drains her and discards her body.

Daniel steps out begrudgingly, his hands in his pockets. "Alright, I see what you mean. But it looks dumb as hell."

"Perhaps. But which of us has their hunger satiated now?" There's still blood on Armand's teeth as he smiles, like the cat that got the cream, and Daniel's stomach does a flip.

With a deep breath in, Daniel bends down and picks up the box — with Armand in it — before he can regret his decision. Vampiric strength makes it feel awfully light and the surprised expression on Armand's face makes him stupidly giddy.

"Alright, I'll bite," Armand mocks Daniel's earlier words as he rests his hands on Daniel's shoulders, "What do you think you're doing?"

Daniel grins. "The box says 'Free Kitten' so I'm taking him home."

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep," says Armand, as he winds his arms around Daniel's shoulders and nuzzles his neck. He might even be purring.

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, quinn hughes

you can hear it in the silence, silence, you you can feel it on the way home, way home, you you can see it with the lights out, lights out you are in love, true love you are in love

one step, not much but it said enough you kiss on sidewalks you fight and you talk one night he wakes strange look on his face pauses, then says you're my best friend and you knew what it was he is in love

you two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round and he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

♡ ─ word count | 3.5k

♡ ─ summary | 3 times that quinn wanted to tell you he loved you, and the 1 time he finally did.

♡ ─ warnings | unedited (when are my works ever lol), mention of comparison between jack/quinn, exhaustion, slight angst??? but mostly tooth-rotting fluff, quinn overthinking, idk maybe there are more but nothing major LMAO

♡ ─ taglist | tbd!! check link in navigation if you are interested

♡ ─ ev's notes | this took WAY too long to write and lowkey not very proud of it, but i wanted to get it out before i start writing my fics for my 100 follower celly. i love quinny so much, he deserves the world and i hope this fic does him justice LMAO. ALSO THIS SONG MAKES ME FEEL SO FREAKING SICK, ITS SO GOOD. also now im noticing a theme on my page, only writing fics inspired by taylor songs, i need to switch it tf up. anyways, enjoy this slightly longer quinn fic & lmk your thoughts in the comments/reblogs. have a great day!

Quinn had never been the type to fawn over anyone ─ especially a girl.

In his 23 years of living, he can't remember a time where he was getting all excited and giddy over the mere thought of anyone. All he could ever remember was just focusing on family, hockey, friends.

Sure, there were flings ─ there were always flings but it would never end in anything more than that. It was just a fling. Sure, sometimes he would want something more but most of the times, the girls thought they were just getting themselves into a one-night stand. Two nights (never in a row) if they were lucky. But that was it.

Even if Quinn wanted a relationship (he doesn't, he would swear), he didn't have time for it. Family, hockey, friends ─ that was it. That's all he wanted.

Of course, that was all thrown out the window when he had met you.

Well, not initially. Quinn wasn't the 'love at first type' kinda guy and neither were you. Your first meeting was nothing out of the ordinary. Just a casual meeting at a friend's gathering, a few exchanged pleasantries, and nothing more.

Yet, something about you stuck with him. It was your sweet smile, maybe, or the way your eyes just looked kind and they would light up when you were asked about your job, or your family. Quinn couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but at some point, he found himself thinking about you when he should have been focused on his next game or practice.

His friends noticed the change in him. His younger brothers had noticed the small change and would tease him. "Hey, Q, what's up with you? You've been awfully distracted lately," Quinn could just imagine the stupid grin etched on Jack's face as he spoke those words.

Quinn, normally quick with a witty retort, found himself at a loss for words. He knew he was in new territory; he had never, ever in his life been overthinking about a girl. For the first time, hockey or family or friends weren't the only thing on his mind.

As days turned into weeks, Quinn's feelings grew stronger. He'd catch himself daydreaming about you during team meetings or staring at his phone, waiting for your texts back. He would go look at your instagram multiple times a day, waiting for a new post to go up just so he could see that pretty smile of yours but somehow, he was never satisfied with just that. For once in his whole life, he had wanted to actually get to know a girl based on one meeting and a couple of texts. It was maddening, this feeling of being drawn towards someone in a way he had never experienced before.

He also couldn't ask any of his buddies for advice because all he'd get was teasing so he had to keep it to himself, which somehow made this entire situation so much worse.

Then finally, there was that one night. You were both at another gathering, the same friends, the same laughter, but this time something shifted. You shared a small inside joke, a quick glance, and Quinn felt his heart race in a way that no slapshot or overtime goal had ever made it race before. He felt a surge of contradictory emotions during that one-second moment, a mix of anxiety and excitement that overwhelmed him. It was a sensation so intense that he wanted to vomit, yet strangely, it was different from the kind of feelings he had experienced before ─ it was not because of hockey, it was a girl. No, you weren't just a girl to him anymore, he realized. You were much more than that to him now.

As he drove home that night, he couldn't deny it anymore. He was falling for you, and it terrified him. Love was a complicated thing, one he had always sworn to avoid, but now he was caught in it's tight grasp all because of you.

The following days were a whirlwind of emotions. Quinn, who had always been the composed defenseman on the ice, found himself stumbling over words and second-guessing every move he made when it came to you. He couldn't concentrate during practice, and his teammates couldn't understand what had gotten into him and if he was being honest, neither did he.

But one thing was clear - Quinn Hughes was in love, and he didn't know how to handle it. He realized that his carefully constructed world of family, hockey, and friends had been upended by the presence of one person ─ you.

And so, this journey begins - three times Quinn wanted to tell you he loved you, and the one time he finally did.

──

ONE

──

After what seemed like the longest practice of his entire life, Quinn trudged back to his apartment, exhaustion weighing down every step. The weight of expectations from his teammates and fans pressed on his shoulders. Today wasn't his day; his passes were off, shots missed the mark, and he stumbled more than once during drills. Even coach had given him some constructive criticism, which usually wouldn't have bothered him, but today it felt like salt in the wound.

As he entered his home, he was ready to collapse onto the couch and shut out the world. As he collapsed on his soft couch, he groaned out in pain, the soreness in his muscles somehow hurt more than usual. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, until he heard the familiar buzzing of his phone in the pocket of his shorts. He cursed under his breath and pulled it out but all the anger seemed to slowly dissipate as he saw your name and contact picture spayed out on the screen.

Then he remembered. Tonight was supposed to be date night for the both of you. He cursed again before answering the phone, sitting upright on the couch.

"Hey," he answered breathlessly, the exhaustion clear in his voice.

"Hey, Quinn I'm outside─you okay?" You say through the phone but before he could answer, you continued. "Shit, sorry Quinn is this a bad time? I know you just had practice and probably tired, I should've texted but you know, I was so excited─"

"No, no, no. Come up, I'm fine I'm not tired." He was lying and you both knew it, but you sighed through the speaker. "Please, come up. I want you here."

"Okay... promise?"

"Promise, Y/N." He said your name so softly, it made your heart flutter and you couldn't help but smile.

"Okay. I'll be up in two secs," You said. "Bye."

The phone call ended and Quinn exhaled. He was tired, sure ─ but he was excited to see you. Even the sound of your voice made him relax so it wasn't even that much of hassle having a date night. If anything, he was sure, you'd make him feel better.

He quickly changed his clothes and he heard the doorbell ring. Quinn opened the door with a tired smile ─ it slowly spread as he saw your pretty smile. He felt his heart speed up as you slowly examined him, and that smile slowly dropped.

"Quinn..." You whispered, a small frown on your face. His disheveled appearance made you slightly sad.

You both made eye contact for a few seconds before you sighed and walked in, your arms wide open. You embraced him warmly, putting your arms around his shoulders and squeezed him softly.

As your arms enveloped him in a warm, comforting embrace, Quinn felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Your presence had a way of soothing his mind. The subtle scent of your floral shampoo, the softness of your warm touch, it all wrapped around him pleasantly.

He closed his eyes, letting himself bask in the tenderness of the moment. Your fingers traced gentle circles on his back, and it was as if you were silently reassuring him that it was okay to have bad days because you'd be there to catch him.

You pulled away, your eyes met again, and he saw genuine concern in your gaze. That alone was enough to make his heart skip multiple beats. Quinn couldn't quite put it into words, being around you was like like returning to the warm embrace of home.

He wanted to utter those three special words as he met your gaze, your kind eyes but the words slowly died on his tongue as you continued talking, taking his hand in yours.

"Let's go eat some ice cream and watch Top Gun." You smiled, knowingly.

He laughed softly and nodded, squeezing your hand. "Sounds like a plan."

──

TWO

──

The moon cast a soft glow through the white curtains as you and Quinn sat together in his dimly lit living room in comfortable silence. The day had been long, filled with its usual chaos and pressures, but now, the world was still. The only sounds were the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional car passing by.

With a sigh, Quinn leaned back into the couch, his exhaustion evident in expression. You watched him closely, sensing the weight of the day on his shoulders. Your relationship had grown stronger over the span of a couple months and you had become his confidante, the one he turned to when he needed to escape from the demands of the team and fans.

Practice had been harder than usual and somehow, on top of all of that, the media had initiated a new trend of drawing comparisons between him and Jack, which made his mood worse.

You knew that; watching Quinn get slowly demotivated by the comments made by those nobodies, it hurt your heart. Breaking the silence, you softly asked, "Quinn, how are you really holding up?"

He looked at you, his gaze wavering at your soft eyes. There was something about the way you looked at him, a warmth and understanding that he had rarely found in anyone else. It was as if you could see right through him, past the tough exterior he often wore.

For a moment, he hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. He almost gave you the media-trained answer but then, he realized that with you. "Not sure, if I'm being honest."

"That's fine, Quinn." You answered softly, "you don't have to know. But what I do what you to know is that you're not Jack. You're not Luke, or Trevor, or anyone else. You're you and that's enough."

That simple answer made him halt all his thoughts. He felt his shoulders slowly drop, letting out a loud exhale. He felt a sense of relief wash over him, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

With empathy in your eyes, you couldn't help but feel the toll it was taking on him. The Quinn you saw now, weary and vulnerable, was a side he rarely showed to anyone.

Quinn's voice wavered as he spoke about the comments that everyone had been making on the media. "It's just... they don't understand, Y/N. They don't see the hours of practice, the sacrifices, the love I have for this game. All they see is Jack's brother, or one of the Hughes brothers."

You reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm, comfortingly. "Quinn, I see you. I see the hard work, the dedication, and the love you have for hockey. And I believe in you. You might be just Jack's brother or just another Hughes to them, but that doesn't matter to me. I see Quinn and you know what, that's enough. And if it isn't enough for them, then fuck them."

His eyes met yours, and there was a vulnerability in that eyes that spoke volumes. In that moment, Quinn realized that he was sharing not just his struggles, but his true self with you. It was a level of trust and intimacy he hadn't experienced with any girl before.

The silence that followed was a comforting one, filled with unspoken understanding. It was as if you were his anchor in the storm, a source of encouragement and warmth. Quinn couldn't help but think that he was lucky to have you by his side, someone who saw him for who he truly was, beyond just hockey player or another Hughes brother, beyond the expectations.

As he held your kind gaze, Quinn couldn't help but think that he wanted to say something more, something that would convey the true depth of his feelings. But for now, he settled for a heartfelt confession: "You're my best friend."

──

THREE

──

The frenetic buzz of the post-game celebrations following a thrilling overtime victory against the Toronto Maple Leafs, Quinn found himself into another arena, one of bright lights and microphones. His heart still raced from the intensity of the game, but now, he had to face the media. The sweat dripped from his forehead, his heart was still beating from the intensity of the adrenaline in his system.

The victory had been hard-fought, Quinn playing a pivotal role in securing it. The puck on his stick, he executed great moves, the slide of the ice beneath his skates, the thud of the puck hitting the net, the eruption of cheers all merging into a thrilling crescendo of sensations made his head buzz with excitement.

The reporters, with cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward, surrounded him like a hungry vultures. They fired questions, one after another, probing for insights into the game-changing play that had secured the win for the Vancouver Canucks.

"Quinn, that last-minute save in overtime was incredible! Can you walk us through what was going on in your mind?"

"Quinn, there's been a lot of buzz with your brother, Jack Hughes. How does it feel to outshine him tonight?"

"You've been compared to some of the greats tonight. How do you handle the pressure of those comparisons?"

"Quinn, your family's here tonight, right? How does their support affect your game?"

"Quinn, fans are calling this one of the best games of your career. Do you think this win is the turning point for the Canucks this season?"

The questions all blurred in his head, the bright lights straining his eyes. Quinn, used to these post-game interviews, felt a distinct unease tonight even after such a big win. The questions were sharp and the scrutiny was intense. In the midst of this media frenzy, he sought solace in the one thing that always brought him strength: you.

He remembers seeing you in the stands before the game and his mind kept replaying those few seconds where you shared a big grin as you both made eye contact.

Amidst the crowd of reporters, he spotted you, your presence radiating pride and warmth. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you in the arena. You gave him a big thumbs up with a big grin, knowing how anxiety inducing those post-game interviews could be. Quinn longed to speak the words that danced at the tip of his tongue but he knew he had to navigate this sea of questions first.

──

This week had to be the longest of Quinn's life. The 3 hour, 5 am pre-season practices had been so tiring, he felt the life get sucked out of him after every exhausting practice. There was one thing he had been looking forward to and that was your date night. Even though he knew that he would have do this week over again practically the next week, he was okay with it knowing that he would be able to spend some time with you over the weekends.

As Friday night finally arrived, Quinn couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement. The thought of spending time with you, of being himself without the pressures of anyone else, filled him with a sense of comfort.

He had suggested a new restaurant downtown, a place neither of you had been before. As you both entered the restaurant, the soft piano ambience and the chatter created the perfect atmosphere. Quinn couldn't help but steal a few glances at you, admiring your beauty and the easy way you fit into his world.

You had worn your hair back in a low bun, showing off your sweet collarbone, a pretty necklace that Quinn had bought for you on a trip hanging off it. It was a silver color and the jewel a beautiful deep blue color that brought out your angelic eyes. Quinn couldn't help but stare and you felt your face burn with heat as you caught his loving gaze.

"What, is there something on my face?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no. You just look beautiful, like always. I like that necklace, wonder who bought it for you."

You giggled in response, feeling slightly giddy. You couldn't even lie, Quinn had you in a trance. You were head over heels. "Yeah, I wonder who."

The rest of the night was spent like this ─ sweet and teasing, it all felt right. Everything just felt right, it was if the last week hadn't happened. Every problem just slowly faded every time either of you spent time together, no matter how big or small it was.

After dinner, you decided to take a walk out in town. The summer air was unusually cool, the lights of the city perfectly setting the atmosphere for the night.

Quinn held your hand, your softer and smaller hand fitting his like a glove. You both walked through the town, talking and laughing like you two were the only people in the world.

As you both passed a bar, your ears filled with the familiar tune of your favorite song. You immediately stopped and looked at Quinn knowingly. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe it's playing!"

Quinn let out a soft chuckle, nodding. "Wanna go in?"

You ignored his question and started lip syncing the lyrics to him, playfully. He started laughing even louder, letting his head fall back. You had started laughing, too ─ then, you took his hand in yours and started dancing.

If it this was anyone else, Quinn would've been slightly embarrassed but as he saw your eyes sparkling and your wide small, he truly couldn't feel anything but love. He had a smile on his face as he grabbed you and pulled you closer, dancing happily with you.

As the song ended, another started playing. 'You are in love' by Taylor Swift had started playing and Quinn almost let out a laugh at the coincidence. You looked back at him, a deep blush gracing on your face. He took your hand again and pulled you closer, and you put you put arms around his broad shoulders.

You both looked into each other's eyes and he took account of how beautiful you looked in this moment ─ you always looked beautiful, no matter when or where or to who, it was just a fact. But you looked more than just physically beautiful, everything about you was perfect, your flaws, your smile, just everything.

And that was when Quinn really knew, in his bones that you were the one for him.

"What?" You whispered, as you saw Quinn's expression changed slowly. He loved that too ─ how empathetic you were, how in sync you both were. You always knew what he was feeling.

You asked, but you knew what the answer was.

"I think ─ no..." His words died on his tongue as your expression changed too. "I know it. I love you."

It didn't feel like a big confession. It didn't feel how everyone described it to be, it just felt like a normal statement. You both had thought it before, multiple times ─ so saying it out loud wasn't a big confession to either of you.

He loved that, he was so used to everything being so big and grand, he wanted it simple. He loved that and he loved you.

You could see it in his eyes, too. His eyes were softened as he gazed at you, like he always looked at you. But this time, you acknowledged it more. He loved you. Quinn loved you. As you gazed into his brown eyes, your heart swelled with a deep sense of connection. You had known, just like he did, that this feeling existed between you. It wasn't born out of big gestures or dramatic confessions; instead, it had quietly grown, nourished by the everyday moments you shared.

As the song ended softly, you let out a breath you didn't know you were even holding. "Yeah. I know I love you, too."

His smile got impossibly bigger and then, he leaned in and gave you the biggest of kisses ─ the dramatic ones, too. He had your face in his hand, the other one holding on your waist and you pulled him closer with your hands.

You felt his mouth smirk as you both sloppily made out. You laughed into the kiss but neither of you pulled away. Neither of you liked PDA but this time, it felt right.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[thewritermj]

cameras flashes, that's how we crashed

battinson!bruce wayne X reader

part 1

summary: on a press conference, bruce finds a journalist who's up to his standards

warnings: usual gotham violence, quick discrimination of a serial killer, not actually smut in this, but in the future so NSFW MDNI

a/n: forgive any grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language!!! Bruce lives in the manor instead of the Wayne Towers cuz I like the manor vibe more, also I kinda picture Jim Gordon from the Gotham Tv show, cuz I love that version but it doesn't really matters lol. (nothing said above is useful for this reading but I just thought you should know) also, this takes place one year after the movie

Bruce sat quietly on the car, the ride was awfully short. He wished he had more time to mentally prepare to his first press conference. He was a recluse for most part of his life, but after the scandal about The Gotham Renewal Program, people deserved to know the truth. And the idea of continuing his family legacy of charity and philanthropy wasn’t all bad and kept Alfred out of his nerves for a while.

And even tough Bruce Wayne could crack a fake smile to the cameras, throw charity galas and events, the true help came at night. The only possible salivation Gotham could have, the real way he could help the city was as Vengeance. The Batman. He didn’t think of himself as a hero, or a vigilante, more of a necessary evil; all the violence and anger, the rage and the darkness of his work, his project; people would be outraged if they found out they were the same man.

“We’re here, Mr. Wayne” The driver announced.

Alfred, who as sitting across from Bruce on the limo closed the papers he was reading and smiles softly.

“Ready, master Bruce?”

Bruce sighs.

“Not really”

The car parked inside the underground garage of the Wayne Enterprises, Bruce and Alfred made their way to the elevator, not a word was said.

Bruce stole a glance at his reflection on the mirror. A black suit Alfred picked for him, a W embroidery on its lapel, his hair was short now, shorter than he liked, all slicked back by hair gel, but nothing could hide the dark circles under his eyes or the lack of sun colour on his skin. Sometimes, just sometimes, Bruce wishes he didn’t have to wear normal clothes, to comb his hair, ties his bottoms; he wishes he could live inside the Batsuit. He felt like the suit was his own skin, her armour, him and Batman were on, there was no Bruce Wayne without Vengeance, they were bonded forever and could never be separated from each other. He wish they could, he wish he could be Batman alone; no press conferences, no reports, paparazzi, no “Bruce Wayne crowned prince of Gotham.”

The elevator stops and the door open. Alfred goes our first and greet some people outside, telling them where to go.

“You have 10 minutes, Bruce.” He warns, “I’ll get them stared and you wait here till I call you”

Bruce nods.

He sits down on a leather couch and waits, starring at the glass doors. All the reports and journalists waiting for him, men and women, from Gotham and other places of the world.

He’s nervous. Not nervous like he is before a fight, nervous he will be put on a corner, that he’ll be catch on a lie, nervous someone knows. It’s like someone in the next room it’s just waiting for him to appears, to stand up from their chair and ask ‘Are you the Batman?’

“Ladies and gentleman, Bruce Wayne” Alfred announces from the stage and glances at him.

Bruce works on his better smile he can put on and enters the stage; he’s received with thunderous applauses and blinding cameras flashes. He waves and sit on a chair, in a wooden desk in front of him is a glass of water and a microphone.

“Let’s get, started then” Alfred said, pointing to a woman in a grey dress standing with a microphone in her hand.

“Mr. Wayne, why did you decided to throw a press conference after years of reclusiveness?”

Bruce leans into her direction a bit.

“Well, I think all the events of the past year made me realize how much the Wayne Foundation means to Gotham and I’ve been a little reckless with that matter”

It was a good answer, he thought.

The following questions were easy too, “Mr. Wayne, how do you plan on taking care of the raised money? To prevent anything to happen again”, “What’s the difference between the Wayne Foundation and the Gotham Renewal Program?”, “What projects do you have in mind?”, and of course, some shallow questions, “What brand is your suit?”, “What car do you drive?”, question he almost laughed at. Did people actually wanted to know that?

Bruce was thinking how the conference was going well, easy, almost, not as he had pictured it before. Until…

“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”

He flinched for half a second, he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Another woman asked something he didn’t quite hear with all that was going on inside his head, but the word Batman was also there. And then another, and another…

“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”

The room turned into a complete circus. Grown adults talking over each other, fighting for a turn on the microphone.

You rolled your eyes. This happens every time, someone thinks about the name Batman and suddenly everyone has something to say. What does it matter Bruce Wayne’s thought of the Batman? There were so much important questions to be asked, so much more to discover about that man’s life and projects than a simple opinion.

You were begging to regret the moment you accepted the offer to come to this conference. You weren’t a regular journalist, you didn’t know how to write an article about the weather, fashion trends, social events, you wrote about thing most journalist didn’t want to, thing that most people were scare to read. People scared of the truth. You weren’t. You would dig and dig until the raw verity came to surface, it didn’t matter where or who you had to dig.

The man who had introduced Mr. Wayne appeared again and announced the press conference. No fucking way, no without the answers you wanted, you didn’t take this job to watch other people ruin it.

Slowly, you got up from your sit and walked towards the person who as holding the microphone and gently pull it away from his hands.

“Mr. Wayne…” but the voices around you were too loud.

You gave the head of the mic a flick, the loud keen sound made the room come silent.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “Mr. Wayne, why did you felt the urge to re-open the school project at the marginalized neighbourhoods of Gotham after your father failed attempted?”   

The men was halfway leaving, but he turned around reluctant, staring right at you. Those piercing blue eyes roaming your face.

“Well, I believe the project needs a second chance. Children and teenagers should be given a chance to have a good education, it helps getting them out of the streets.” He answered, without the microphone his voice was low, but the silence of the room let you hear him loud and clear. “Who do you write for?”

“The Gotham Gazette” You answered proudly.

Mr. Wayne whispered something to the other man and sat back at the chair.

“Do you have any more questions, Miss…?”

You smile politely and told him your name.

“Would you say that the Wayne Foundation has an impact outside of Gotham?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on the man’s lips. You shook the urge to smile back at him.

You could tell he was a bit nervous, but he had answered the questions with manners and the right words, maybe he didn’t notice, but he’s quite good at it.

“Yes. I think the work we do on the Foundation inspires people to do the same. If it works out, we can show the world that if there was hope for Gotham there’s hope for them too”

“Do you think there’s hope for Gotham?” You asked, out of spite, because you didn’t write it down before the press.

His lips contracted to a thin line and he thought of it for a few seconds before answering:

“Yes. As long as people like me and you care about what happens here, there’s still hope for the city”

You smiles.

“People like me?”

“You seem to know a lot about the charity work, and you care enough to show it to the world”

Your smile grew bigger and you felt a hint of warm rushing through your cheeks.

Mr. Wayne answered a few more of your questions before the press conference was over.

You were, oh, so proud of yourself. The information you gathered was perfect for what you had in mind and for sure, you could make it a good article. An admiring of the Wayne legacy, that’s what you called yourself. It has always called out to you what that wealth family did; they had no obligation to do it, to donate not just money, but time and resources to help those who couldn’t have what they did, to make Gotham something to be proud of. It’s a shame they never lived long enough to cure it, to heal it. However, you hoped that, maybe, Bruce did. At least he sound determined to.  

You gathered your things and your purse, but as you made your way to the elevator, a woman dresses on formal clothes approached you with a clean, sharp smile that made her look like a dental paste commercial.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind, following me?”

You frowned.

“Ahn…What for?”

“Mr. Wayne wishes to speak to you” She explained and her smile somehow grew wider.

Standing there for a few seconds, all you could do was nod as you followed her through a long corridor. What was happening right now? He wants to speak to you? Bruce Wayne wishes to speak to a journalist in private? And more important, to you.

She opened a door to a breath-taking office.

Right in front of you was a full wall window, a panoramic view of Gotham in all its “glory”, skyscrapers, apartment buildings, the clock tower, the bridge of the river, the field behind the road, you could see everything from up there. There was a wooden desk in front of the window, quite empty, and a chair that looked more comforting than any other you had ever sat.

When the woman closed the door behind you, your attention changed to the man standing on your left. Bruce Wayne was staring at you dead in the eyes with a facial expression of someone who just saw a ghost.

This guy seriously need some sunbathing. You shook that thought out of your head.

“Mr. Wayne. You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes” His raspy voice responded. “Sit, please”

You took a seat on one of the chairs in front of the chair and he sat opposite of you, behind the desk, diving completely into the velvet chair. He crosses his fingers and stares at you again. It made you a little uncomfortable, he did that a lot, like a hunter watching its prey.

“So…”

“I’ve searched your work. You’re really good.”

“Thank you, sir”

“You won a Pulitzer, am I right?”

“Yes, a few years ago”

When did he get the time to read all this information? It’s not like you’re super famous, even the Pulitzer wasn’t a very known prize if you didn’t know the industry.

“For a book about a serial killer in Detroit” He said, a voice that verged into an interrogation tone. “The Divine Move?”

You blinked a few times.

“I…Yes. Nathan Walters.”

He lifted his eyebrows just an inch, telling you to continue the story.

You cleared your throat.

“He uh, he used to be the altar boy of the neighbourhood church and he chose his victims based on the sins he supposed they’ve committed.” You’ve shorten it, you couldn’t understand why a billionaire was asking you about the modus operandi of a criminal who was thousands of miles away.  “Why are you asking me this, if I may ask, Mr. Wayne?”

“You’re an investigative journalist. Why are you attending press conferences of a random billionaire?”

You supressed a laugh. Random.

“I grew up here, sir. I’ve always admired your family work, I took the opportunity when it was offered to me.”

“You seem to know a lot about my family history.”

“Like I said, I’m just an admiring. Although, I once thought of writing a book about the Wayne Legacy. Your legacy, sir.”

“Your legacy, sir”.

Bruce looked down at his cufflinks, the W prominent on a silvery material.

His legacy.

He once thought the Wayne Foundation was his legacy. But now he knew, his true legacy came in a bat shaped suit and sleepless nights; it came on purple coloured bruises and blood stained clothes.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well…it’s very hard to write about something when you only get superficial information.”

You were nervous, he could tell. You kept staring at the view behind him, or at your shoes, tanking a little too long to answer his questions. He wondered how could a journalist gets nervous, almost shy.

He gave you a puzzled look, not using any words to express his question. But you understood it.

“Using material that was wrote by someone else. All the records and stories about your parents have already been wrote by someone else before me, so I couldn’t say it was my work, could I?”

He hummed.

Bruce took a sigh. Maybe. Maybe this was a good idea, it could keep him in a good status with the press, plus, he’d be able to hide even further down his secret identity, having a journalist with him every day? No one would suspect his the Batman.

“There are stories and details that haven’t been told.”

You bit your lower lip.

He stared at you.

“What are you implying, sir?”

“If I tell you the stories, would you write it?”

“If I tell you the stories, would you write it?”

You almost passed out.

Would you?

Who could say they had a proposal like that? Dig into the secrets of the Wayne family?

“Yes”.

___________________

a/n2: aaaah this is actually so boring I'm so sorry, also I think I made bruce a little more talkative than I would've but anyways I may change it yet.

a special thank you to @preciouslandmermaid for inspiring me to finally write this!! <3

[cirqosmos]

untitled project, corpse bride (teaser)

author's note. a jungwon 7k oneshot corpse bride inspired with him as a 'psycho serial killer butchering everyone in the train' i did since a year ago, but im not satisfied with it yet but here's a teaser! i haven't written in awhile so it might be crusty rusty lol but yep it will be out this month, hopefully ♡ trying to get back into my momentum.

warning. subtle graphic description of murder, gore. / excessive tagging wouldn't be used but a tagging system of playing card symbols i've created so please read at your own discretion when the full fic is out.

Horrendous. Awful.

Not quite like the picture perfect image he had been fantasising about whenever he'd like to.

But he likes it, more than he would like to.

Awfully likes it.

He just needs to fix it a little more. Just a bit would do.

A bride on her merry way down the aisle of promised vows of happily ever after, a sweetened pursed up glossed lips and irises, couldn't she grow any more sweeter than this? Perhaps, it could. But to him, your shattered delicate state was much more sweet than he could taste, he could even sniff it into his soul—dark, dark, terribly dark soul.

Your bouquet, strip to nothingness where restorations could no longer be made was evident with madness. Or was he, the madness in itself? Perhaps, it is. What is there to deny?

Now the question is, what happened? Was it an arranged marriage on the foundation of a million bucks or perhaps even better, a mine of gold? Or was it actually true love at first sight? A runaway bride with her lover but was unfortunately shot to his death, or maybe, maybe fell to his death down the cliff? Or was it betrayal?

Which one is it?

Which one did actually happen that it has this tremendous effect in making this sweet of a delicate bride stranded somewhere in the city, boarding a train in all her fleeting gloriousness that was all for her cherished husband-to-be to relished on?

How amusing.

Where did your smile go? Your pitch black mascara smeared, tainted with pearl tears. Glossed lips now chapped and dry. The overall makeover he was sure took a horrendous amount of preparation was replaced with an image of a decomposing corpse bride.

But he likes it.

Of course it would, why wouldn't he?

He wouldn't need to go through the tremendous hassle of butchering another one when you're all here, all ready to be his next corpse bride in collection.

It just needs a little more, a little more — effort.

To make you his perfect corpse bride.

Silence.

Nothing came.

Only a deafening silence in constant rhythm of beats, accompanied by (Name)'s rampant heart as the main vocal. The train's intercom and the sound of the train tracks was what served as the instruments, side vocals by the distant screaming ahead the carriage.

All of it, the entire piece of orchestration of all led by the conductor with his baton. However, the conductor was eerily silent. Weirdly, horrifyingly silent.

"Whose bride do we got here?"

A hiccup escape from the bride's throat as soon as those words reverberated from the conductors lips.

Amused by the unusual sight you don't often see everyday especially while boarding a train, the man let's put a satisfying groan as he sat down facing the bride, comfying himself for another break session.

He's sitting down? Are you fucking serious right now?!That particular sentence echoes beneath everyone's mind in varying volumes and expressions. No one knows how long will it take. But everyone was sure as hell didn't want him to sit that long.

Get lost. Just get fucking lost!

But one should know that one single wrong step is only a foolish's mistake.

Therefore, it was a silent agreement of all;

To stay still.

Do not anger the lion.

Or perhaps, the conductor if we were being classy here.

"Since you didn't hear it, I'll repeat my question," Jungwon grins behind the cat mask, "Where's your husband?"

An orchestration of a bloodbath; scream once, your head gone. Try to run, don't bother, just crawl. But Jungwon wouldn't mind a bit letting your head stay intact a little more, he just thought you would look a lot sweeter with your delicate face and piece of dress splattered with the perfect ingredient.

© pieroulette (previously ateliertale)

[sublimecatgalaxy]

me again :) i’ve been thinking a lot about javier peña and how i want him to be mine so bad thanks to tiktok💘 the idea i mentioned to you was reader and javi in a long distance relationship and just the phone conversation between the two of them. it could be fluffy or lean on the side of phone sex but literally anything where he’s speaking to the reader is perfect! can you tell i’m really into pedro’s voice? lol🤭

UHHHHH BESTTIE!!!! My first Javi request😌 TUMBLR THERE IS NO SMUT IN THIS, IT'S JUST FLIRTING AND FLUFFY PLEASE DON'T PUT A WARNING ON THIS.

"I did my nails today." I sigh, looking at the red tinge on my fingers and toes with a fond smile, knowing how much Javi loves when I get myself all pretty for him.

"Yeah?" Javier asks softly, his voice sending shivers down my spine, especially after not hearing from him for nearly three days. "What color?" He asks but I can hear the smile in his tone, knowing he already knows what color I chose.

"Your favorite." I hum with a smirk, twirling the cord on the phone while I curl up on his side of the bed, heart aching at the fact that I can no longer smell his cologne on his pillow.

"Red?"

"Yes."

"You should send me some polaroids." He offers with a sense of mischief in his voice and I giggle, eyes rolling at his pervy thoughts.

"Should I?" He laughs through the line and my whole body warms at the noise, a sense of adoration and appreciation consuming me as I desperately wish to be right there beside him in his Colombian home.

"I miss you." He whispers, a tinge of sadness to his voice.

"I miss you too. It's been awfully boring here. Just the cat and me." I reach down to pet my calico beauty Riley in my lap and she purrs happily, nudging her face against my hand just like she does to Javi when he's home. "I need my man here to spice up my life in more ways than one."

"I'm working on it, sweetheart." Though my words were meant to be teasing, there's an honest frustration to his own words and I realize how tired he must be and how much he must want to be home with me. "What else did you do today other than paint your nails and miss me?"

"Bought some groceries, bought a ticket to Columbia, got a new litterbox-"

"Wait what?" He cuts me off and I can hear the line rustle on his end, almost as if he's moving to catch up with the huge bomb I just dropped on him. Playing dumb, I roll my eyes teasingly and give him the best show I can give.

"What?" I ask dumbly, hearing him scoff loudly and impatiently on the other end of the line.

"You're coming to Columbia?" He asks breathlessly and I can picture the tears lining his lash line and the way his cheeks blush gently when he's excited.

"I get on a plane bright and early tomorrow morning." I giggle, boucing excitedly up and down on the bed, spooking Riley out of her slumber as she rushes off the bed and under it.

"You're kidding."

"You sound disappointed?" Nerves swirl in my tummy for a moment until he mutters a quiet 'no, no, no' under his breath and I feel the anxiety of my secret disappear.

"I'm shocked." He scoffs and if I close my eyes hard enough, I can picture him fisting his hair, looking around the room thinking something along the lines of 'how am I going to clean this apartment in time'. "I'm so fucking happy." He hums and the tears lining my own eyes are now dripping down my cheeks, my heart pounding excitedly. "I can't believe you're real."

"I'll show you how real I am in exactly twelve hours from now." He laughs at my flirting and gives me a quiet 'yes dear' and I begin to feel the anticipatory excitement just knowing I'll see him and be in his arms this time tomorrow.

"Promises, promises."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres @rafesbae01

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers Part 4

Okay so, I don't even know if anyone is still interested in this series. Anyway, here we go lol. Just let me know if you don't want to be tagged!

Also, I used the writing prompt: Why are you doing this?

Thank you to @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @thatbanditqueen @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll Talking to you guys is the best part of my day and really keeps me going.

Another special thanks to @whositmcwhatsit who not only made this thing way more enjoyable to read by fixing everything wrong with it but also encouraged me to actually post it.

Word count: 5.7 k

Warnings: tiny bit of smut at the end so 18+

Previous part. Next part

Bad Nauheim, December 21st 1958

Mary carefully inspected the delicate silver bracelet dangling from her wrist and tried to look as busy as possible while she leaned against the piano in the lounge. With one look towards the chandelier above her she was instantly reminded of her first visit a few weeks ago.

To her, it felt like an eternity ago, but also like was yesterday. Everything looked the same at Hotel Grunewald, except that it was a lot more crowded than the last time she was here. Her fingers kept tapping against the cold glass of Prosecco in her hand as she carefully observed the people around her.

As well as fretting about being completely overdressed, she also felt awfully out of place, not really knowing anyone in the room. Elvis and the rest of the 23rd Armoured Division had returned from maneuvers in Grafenwöhr, and were now back at the base in Friedberg. To celebrate, he had invited some of his friends and fans to Hotel Grunewald for a ‘small party’.

Mary raised a sceptical eyebrow after looking around, this isn't really what she'd consider a small party. She briefly wondered if Elvis might get in trouble with Herr Otto Schmidt for this, especially when she heard someone dropping a glass in the next room. She cringed at the thought of him getting into trouble, but she knew it was inevitable.

As sweet as caring as Elvis could be, she knew he could be reckless as well. She smiled as she took a small sip from her prosecco and thought back to earlier in the day when she saw her life flash before her eyes multiple times. But even then, deep down, she felt like nothing could happen to her as long as she was with him.

Elvis had called her two days ago, informing her that he'd be in Frankfurt because he wanted to buy a new car from a local dealership. He promised to pick her up himself at her family’s apartment in Frankfurt. Not only did he want to show off his purchase, but he also wanted to properly introduce himself to her father. Although they played together aboard the USS Randall and had a few phone calls, Elvis wanted to do it right, ‘handshake and all’, as he said.

When Mary greeted him at her door he wasted no time picking her up and hugging her tightly.

"Oh Mary Cherry, I've missed ya so much! Been countin' the days until I could see your sweet face again."

She giggled when he set her down again and quickly kissed his cheek before inviting him inside.

"I've missed you too."

He seemed a bit agitated as she lead him down the corridor, his eyes darting around anxiously. Before they could reach the living room where her parents and her brother were waiting, they passed an old wooden shelf displaying some family portraits. Elvis halted in his tracks and pointed to a picture from her on her 10th birthday.

"Is that itty bitty Cherry?" He smiled fondly as he picked up the portrait, his fingers trailing over the cool glass.

"Oh god. Yes." Mary cringed with a small smile, hoping he'd set the awkward photo aside and forget he's ever seen it.

His grin widened and he faced her. "Ya look so cute. Gotta get me a copy of this, I wanna have it." He said, pointing his finger at it.

"Really?"

He hummed and gently placed it back on the shelf, before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to bury his face into her hair. She leaned into him for a moment and he took a deep breath, prompting her to squeeze his arm comfortingly before pulling him along into the living room.

Greeting her family was, thankfully, less awkward than she initially expected and Elvis quickly managed to strike up a conversation with her father. Mary and her mother watched as the two men reminisced about their time as a band abroad the USS Randall, with Elvis putting on his southern charm, polite and charming as ever, despite being visibly nervous. He even expressed interest in the tattered, used guitar her father had bought and which sat in the corner of the living room, earning him an approving nod.

Mary and her mother kept exchanging glances every now and then, glad to see the two of them getting along so well. Eventually her father agreed to let her stay with Elvis in Bad Nauheim over the weekend. On the condition that she had her own room of course. Elvis promised once again to take good care of her.

When they stepped outside, she let out a sigh of relief, before realising it was pouring rain. Elvis quickly grabbed her, the feeling of his leather gloves against her skin making her feel funny, and dragged her along with him. They almost ran towards his car, a white BMW Isetta parked on the other side of the street. He swiftly opened the car door for her and ushered her inside before getting in himself. For a few seconds they just sat there, wet and out of breath, before bursting out laughing.

The windows fogged up slightly from their damp hair and clothes, as he quickly started the engine. He raced through the streets, way faster than the speed limit allowed and running multiple red lights on his way. Mary desperately clutched her seatbelt and braced herself when he floored the gas pedal right before a very sharp corner. He just chuckled when her body slammed hard against his.

"Elvis, we're not trying to win a race!" She gasped and let out a nervous laugh while rubbing her shoulder that bumped against his.

He threw an arm around her and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Baby, I shouldn't tell ya how I had to drive to your place to shake off all these damn reporters. Also, it's a former racing car, this is fun!"

"It's certainly exciting." She agreed with raised eyebrows. "And scary."

He slightly tilted his head. "Are ya really criticizing my driving?"

She snorted. "I'm sure it gets you to where you need to be in time."

His hand found its way onto her thigh, squeezing and rubbing her soothingly. "Ya don't gotta worry. I'm in the Army, operating tanks and whatnot, baby, I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not sure they're teaching you this in the Army." She argued and pointedly gestured towards the steering wheel which he turned rapidly from left to right at the moment, making them drive a zigzag course.

He sharply turned it around one more time, her body pressing into his again. With a hum he looked at her, smirking. "That's right you're not sure. Just let me do the thinking, Cherry."

"That might get us killed." She almost shrieked when he almost drove into oncoming traffic, angry car horns blaring around them.

"These people here have no sense of humour, I'll tell ya. Making a big thing outta nothing. You know, earlier when I went to pick up the car the owner called the police because of some fans trying to get close to me."

"I think he was probably just concerned about your safety."

He squeezed her thigh. “The fans, they mean no harm. They just get real excited and all that. They're happy to see me a-and I'm happy to see them."

Mary smiled understandingly and gave his hand a little squeeze. He seemed to be lost in his own head again, thinking about the fans. The car slowed down and they settled into a comfortable silence, his hand continuing to stroke her leg. She felt a smile tugging at her lips when she noticed him staring at her, seemingly only occasionally facing the road ahead.

"Aren't you supposed to be looking at the street?"

"Honey, after being in the woods for days for maneuvers I got my eyes everywhere, believe me."

She snorted again. "Alright, but if you crash your brand new car, don't say I didn't tell you."

He chose to ignore her comment. "How do you like it?"

"The car? Oh it's very nice. I... uh, guess it has everything a car needs."

He gave her a look.

Mary laughed apologetically and held up her hands. "Sorry, I have no idea about cars. But it looks really nice."  She gave the elegant black and white interior a once over before nodding approvingly.

He chuckled and squeezed her leg again.

"So ya like the colour? The car dealer said I might have to paint it red with all the fans trying to kiss it."

"That might save you a lot of time."

Later when they arrived at the hotel, Elvis almost immediately dragged her up to his room, barely giving her time to greet the hotelier or get properly settled into her room.

After arriving at room number 10, he quickly sat down in front of the mirror next to the bed and removed the hat he'd been wearing all day. With a wink towards her through the mirror, he began combing his hair.

Mary could have watched him all day, but opted to give him some privacy and opened the door to his balcony. She stepped outside and took a deep breath, enjoying the nice view over the park across from them.

The sky had cleared up and the stars were already shining brightly as the nearly full moon cast a bluish hue over the hotel. After a while she went back inside, shivering and rubbing her arms, and she saw that he'd moved to sit on the bed. She caught him dry swallowing some pills and sat down next to him on the bed, placing her hand on his forehead.

"Are you sick?" she asked with a frown.

He chuckled and caught her hand in his own. After a quick kiss to her wrist, he shook his head.

"Nah, don't worry." He placed the pills back onto his nightstand. "They just give you more energy. Makes you think faster and better, and you can stay awake way longer. We took 'em all the time in Bavaria."

Mary's sceptic gaze went back and forth between his face and the orange pill bottle in his hand.

"So... you got these from a doctor or something?"

"A Sergeant gave me these, honey," he offered, as if this would justify just about anything.

Mary sat back a little. "But... you're not on maneuvers anymore. Why do you still take them?"

He sighed and looked at her pleadingly. "Honey, do I really have to explain myself to you now?"

Mary remembered how he'd told her about his trouble sleeping ever since his mother's death and being shipped over. How he'd lie in bed at night, pondering and worrying about a future that he felt didn't offer much to him anymore. He had told her many times already just how tired he felt. She bit her lip, feeling slightly guilty and shook her head.

Apparently he again knew what she was thinking and put a comforting arm around her neck. With a tenderness that threw her off guard each time, he pressed a few soft kisses against her cheek, his lips lingering on her skin. "Now, that's way better, baby. Just trust me with this, yeah?"

"Are you alright, Mary?" A familiar voice asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Rex! I didn't know you were here!" She laughed and put a hand over her heart.

"Sorry, I didn't want to scare you."

"Don't worry, I was just... thinking." Mary gestured around aimlessly and shrugged, a reserved smile on her face.

Rex nodded and took a swig of beer.

"How are you? Are you here... with Elisabeth?" Mary asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she ran her thumb along her glass, drawing little circles along the condensed surface. She didn't want to admit it, but the possibility of the German girl also being at the party bothered her immensely.

"Uh, no, she had some important family stuff going on. She's talked about you a lot, she really liked meeting you," Rex offered.

Mary nodded with a small smile and took another big sip from her glass. His answer didn't really calm her nerves. Did that mean Elvis originally invited her and wanted her to come as well? It's just that she had no time?

Mary quickly chided herself for thinking about it so much. She didn't want to play the role of the jealous, paranoid girlfriend. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she took this relationship way more serious than he did.

Over the past few weeks he'd reassured her over and over again that she was his best girl, though she still wasn't entirely sure what exactly that meant in Elvis' world. She desperately wanted to find a way to trust him and make this relationship work. But she wasn't entirely naive, either.

Rex noticed her being deep in thought again and moved on with a small nod and a shirt brush against her arm. This brought Mary’s thoughts back into the room and she straightened her shoulder, trying to get it together. She wasn't usually like this and it annoyed her.

Suddenly her vision went black as someone put their hands over her eyes from behind. For a moment she was startled, but she didn't have to think long to guess who it was. She let out a laugh, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Oh, who could it be?" she said jokingly and put a finger against her chin, her worries from a minute ago instantly forgotten. The effect his mere presence had on her was something she couldn't fathom.

"Why don't ya take a guess, sweet thing?" he asked in a funny, high-pitched voice that didn't even sound like his own, making her laugh.

He hung one arm around her neck while the other wrapped itself around her waist. His voice right next to her ear made her shiver.

"Mary Cherry, I haven't even told you how beautiful you look tonight. All dolled up," he whispered low and pressed his cheek against hers.

Mary bit her lip and grinned widely, unable to form any words. She instead put her hand on his arm splayed right above her chest and gently ran her thumb over it.

"You're perfect. Perfect, pretty baby... And you're wearing the bracelet that I gave you," he murmured and lifted up her wrist and carefully turned it back and forth to watch how it reflected the warm light from the chandelier above them, shining and shimmering with each soft movement.

"I wear it every day." Mary admitted with a bashful smile.

He grinned against her cheek. "Good."

When she raised her glass to her lips, Elvis quickly drew away and stood in front of her. He unceremoniously snatched the drink away from her hand, leaving her a bit dumbfounded.

"Nuh-uh that ain't nothing for you, honey."

She tried to get back her glass. "Elvis, everyone's drinking."

He held the glass above his head, out of her reach. "Not you."

Mary put her hands on her hips sighed. "Why not?"

"Because I say so, honey. Ain't good for a little girl like you to be drinking and all that."

She frowned. "It's just one glass."

"Cherryyyyy." He tilted his head, looking at her imploringly.

"But-"

He placed the glass on a nearby table and shook his head. "No, I'm not gonna discuss this now."

She huffed in frustration and he raised a challenging eyebrow at her. It almost tempted her to speak up again, but she didn't want to ruin the mood. It was his party after all.

"...Alright, Elvis."

His lip curled and he gently rubbed her arm. "Thank you, baby." He smiled and started playing with the bracelet on her wrist again.

Absentmindedly his gaze trailed over her arm until he was looking over her shoulder. His expression shifted somewhat as he stared at something behind her. When she turned around she saw Vernon talking to a young, blonde woman. With a subconscious squeeze to his hand she turned back to him. For a second his eyebrows twitched but he quickly regained himself and gave her a reassuring half smile.

"I'll be right back, Cherry." He spoke in a low voice and his thumb brushed against her chin before he walked past her.

Mary quickly looked back at Vernon and frowned a bit when she saw Elvis disappearing towards the staircase. She wondered about the woman his father was talking to and why it apparently bothered Elvis so much. It wasn't her place to speculate on those things though, so she sighed and made her way towards the dining room with raised eyebrows.

For almost half an hour Mary aimlessly wandered around and, despite a few unsuccessful attempts at mingling, her mind was pretty much preoccupied with the sudden disappearance of the party’s host.  

She eventually decided to sit down next to Elvis' dog, Cherry, who much like his owner wasn’t too concerned about rules and laid down comfortably on the green couch in front of the window, much to the disdain of Herrn Schmidt. She absentmindedly stroked his soft fur, contemplating her next move.

With a sigh, she got up again, smoothed down her skirt, and made her way through the crowd, growing more and more anxious about Elvis' absence.

After climbing two flights of familiar creaky stairs, she turned towards the first door on the right and carefully knocked against the white wooden door.

"Elvis? It's me."

After a faint ‘Come in’ from the other side of the door, she slowly stepped inside.

"Hey, you," she whispered hesitantly, not really sure what to expect.

He sighed and opened up his arms. "Come here."

With slow steps across the creaky floorboards she laid down next to him with him encircling her with his arms in an instant.

"How do you like the party, honey?" he mumbled, his lips close to her ear.

Mary looked at him, a small gleam in her eyes.

"Apart from the fact that I'm sober?" she joked, trying to cheer him up a little. It didn't quite go as she planned.

He huffed a laugh, a weird mix of mirth and frustration in response. "Why are you doing this?"

"What?"

He gestured towards her, as if he wasn't sure what to say. "Being like this. When everything I do is to take care of ya."

Mary leaned over to peck his lips, trying to appease him. His pout slowly turned into a bashful smile. She could tell that he was trying to fight it, trying to keep that pouty expression on his face to make her feel guilty.

"Sorry, I'm just joking, E. I am enjoying the party... even if I don't really know most of the people." She shrugged and gave him a pointed look. "Are you enjoying it? Why are you here all by yourself?"

"I'm not."

"You know what I mean." She smiled.

"I-I uh, had to get away for a bit. Uh... I just wanted to spend some time with my best girl."

She paused. "You knew I'd come?"

"Well, I-I hoped so."

Mary shook her head in a good-natured way. "You're so sweet, really."

"Ain't that just every man's dream? Being called sweet," he huffed while fiddling with the ring on his pinky finger, his face scrunched up.

She suppressed a snort and placed her hand on his cheek with a smile. "And silly as well."

"Silly?"

She hummed and reached up to brush some hair out of his face. His lips twitched for a second, a mischievous look in his eyes as he unexpectedly grabbed a pillow and smacked it right into her face.

It took Mary a second to process what happened. She looked at him in shock and disbelief and he couldn't help but snort at her funny expression. His mood swings were a mystery to her. His dark broodiness mixed with the sudden light playfulness always made her stop for a second, trying to figure out how to react. This was no doubt his way of telling her that he didn't actually want a serious talk now. A weird way to show it, but she found it charming nonetheless.

So, she picked up the same pillow and threw it right back at him. Now it was her turn to giggle at his surprised face. His open mouth quickly turned into a wide grin and he picked up the pillow again, but she managed to dodge his attack, hurriedly getting up from the bed.

"No point in running from me, Cherry," he warned as he slowly got up from the bed as well and started chasing her around the room.

After a few minutes of back and forth between them, pillows flying around and his hiccupping laughter filling the room, Mary started to get exhausted. Right when she attempted to leap over the bed to escape another attack, he managed to get a hold on her ankle and pulled her back with a force she hadn't quite expected. She let out a surprised squeal as she was dragged across the bed and turned around to face him. But he was, once again, quicker, moving his body closer to her and catching her hands in his bigger ones.

He sat on top of her, pressing her into the mattress and holding down her hands on either side of her head. It knocked the wind out of her for a second and she looked up to him to find him breathing just as heavily.

"Got ya," he whispered, his eyes dark and half lidded.

Mary's breath hitched in excitement, his weight above her both comforting and arousing at the same time. She didn't even think about moving away from him again, afraid that if she'd move but one muscle, he'd roll off her again.

Her throat felt very dry and she licked her lips as she looked up at him with wide eyes. His face hovered inches above hers, his hair falling over his forehead which was covered in a faint layer of sweat. He raised one eyebrow, making her breathing pick up once again, despite the fact that she already sounded like she just ran a marathon.

"You're not scared of me are ya, honey?"

Mary shook her head and swallowed hard. "I'm not." Her answer came out as a raspy whisper, prompting her to clear her throat.

"I'm not," she repeated, louder this time, while staring into his eyes.

He looked her up and down for a second before releasing her hands. His fingers slowly began grazing over her arms and his eyes held hers with an intensity she hadn't seen before. She felt the anticipation building in her lower belly and her legs twitched under his weight.

"Good, cause ya ain't got no reason to, okay?" he insisted, his eyebrow still raised. "You trust me?"

"I do," she whispered shakily and slipped her hands under his sweater, making him shiver when he felt her touch on his hot skin.

He briefly ducked his head with a small smile, his heated gaze drifting downward involuntarily. His weight shifted on her when he leaned forward slightly and Mary felt her chest rising and falling rapidly at the sensation. No matter how hard she tried to slow down her breathing, it only seemed to get worse when his slow touches halted, right at the buttons of her blouse.

For a few seconds neither one dared to move, a fleeting moment of clarity within the carefree playfulness, a silent question whether or not they should continue. His fingers hovered over her breasts and Mary impulsively dragged her hands from under his shirt and put them on his hips, attempting to pull him closer to her. He blinked in surprise before shifting on top of her with a small smile. There was a tension in the room that seemed almost unbearable when he circled his fingers over the buttons, puffing up his cheeks and shaking his head.

He, painfully slowly, started undoing them, brows furrowed, his eyes completely focused on the task at hand. She gently stroked his legs when she saw him fiddling with one button in particular, his fingers trembling just the slightest bit. When she looked up to him again, his cheeks were tinged with a soft pink.

She had to stifle a small giggle and her eyes widened, not quite expecting his sudden shyness. To her he always seemed so sure of himself, believing that he was right about everything and in full control. But right now it was different. Mary would be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy seeing him like this, it felt so very genuine and real.

He caught her bewildered expression and leaned down to nuzzle his nose against her cheek.

"Ya don't gotta be nervous," he whispered and sat up again after a quick kiss to her neck. She felt a smile tugging at her lips at his attempt to manipulate the situation to his favour.

"I'm not nervous, E."

He nodded slowly, his eyes surveying her. "Mhm, okay, but why are you blushing like that?" He smiled and traced a finger over her burning cheek.

Mary turned her head away from his touch and giggled. "I could ask you the same thing," she whispered into his ear after wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her, unable to resist the chance to tease him a bit.

"I'm not blushing," he muttered against her shoulder.

She let out a loud laugh. "Yes, you are!"

He shook his head. "You're seeing things, sweetheart. Got a very, uh, vivid imagination," he drawled and playfully tapped his finger against her temple.

"Mhm, sure," she giggled and slowly undid the rest of the buttons as he was too busy brushing his lips against her neck.

Elvis’ hot breath tickled her sensitive skin and she sat up, the blouse making her feel constricted and too hot all of the sudden. He quickly understood and helped her move the fabric off her shoulders. His warm hands on her bare skin made her shudder, despite feeling like her body was on fire, briefly making her question her own senses. Mary watched as he hastily tossed the garment aside and returned his heated gaze to her body.

Nearly trembling with anticipation, she waited for him to touch her, but when he only stared for what seemed to be an eternity, she decided to take matters into her own hand and quickly shimmied out of her skirt as well.

He swallowed hard and whispered a small ‘Damn’  when he saw her bare thighs. Just as she went to reach behind to unclasp her bra, his hand shot out to hold onto her wrist.

"Don't," he argued. "Please, leave 'em on. Looks so pretty." His eyes wandered over her form.

Mary was momentarily transfixed by the very unexpectedly gentle and loving look in his eyes. The way his long eyelashes fluttered as he took in her body, careful and appreciative at the same time. It made her skin tingle and her hands twitch, she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers over his face and feel those soft cheek and lips. He had never been more beautiful than in this moment.

"Such a sweet girl," he said in a low voice, his eyes finding hers again.

Mary felt a lump in her throat at his words. The way he could make her feel a million things at once with only a few soft glances and that velvety voice was confusing and enticing at the same time.

Utterly unable to react any differently, she leaned forward and crushed her lips against his, gripping his sweater tightly in her fists. The wet noises from their open mouthed, hectic kisses nearly turned her into a puddle and she felt grateful for his tight grip on her, securing her and drawing her even further in.

Kissing him was addictive and Mary frantically tried to get as much as possible by pressing herself even closer against him, tongues touching and breaths mingling. In what she could only describe as a gentle chiding he very subtly shook his head and nearly halted his movements, urging her to slow down a bit.

"Easy, honey," he mumbled against her mouth.

She huffed and responded by attempting to pull off his sweater, letting him know what she thought about taking it slow. He just grinned and pinched her hips, before letting his hand roam over her butt, gently squeezing the soft flesh. His soft kisses made her crave him so much more and she still impatiently tugged at his sweater.

When he finally took mercy on her and pulled the fabric over his head, messing up his hair a bit in the process, she wasted no time and rubbed her hands over his bare skin. The urge to touch him and be as close to him as possible  was impossible to suppress and Mary enjoyed watching the little expressions on his face when she'd brush his nipple or trail dangerously low along his lower belly. He certainly felt and looked leaner since returning from maneuvers, his chest a bit more toned, his jaw a tad bit sharper. His lips however were as plush and soft as ever when she started nibbling on them again.

"Somebody's very eager, huh? Don't worry, sweetheart, don't ya worry your pretty little head. I'll take care of ya good. Mhm."

He lifted her up from his lap and guided her to lay on her back before crawling on top of her, his eyes twinkling.

As if in a trance, Mary's hand found its way to his lips, tracing and outlining them. He opened his mouth and gently bit down with a playful growl, making her chuckle. She watched him in awe when he continued sucking and nibbling on her fingers.

"I could bite these widdle fingers all day," he laughed as his hand grazed over her lower belly, sending shocks throughout her entire body.

He bit his lip as he toyed with the waistband of her panties before looking at her. Mary nodded reassuringly and he smiled before slipping his hand inside. The second he touched her, her hips involuntarily bucked up against his touch. His smile widened and he easily spread her lips apart, fingers gliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves and Mary let out a small cry of pleasure. She felt like she was floating, all rational thoughts completely abandoning her with each skilled flick of his fingers.

A poking sensation on her thigh, which she quickly realised was his body reacting to her, made her throw her head back into the pillow almost desperately. He continued nudging her, probing at her entrance, before easily slipping inside. Mary thought she was seeing stars as his long fingers quickly found a steady rhythm. He carefully watched her expression, wanting to catch every twitch, every tremble.

"You're so beautiful, Cherry," he whispered as he stroked her cheek and leaned in, kissing her deeply and slowly. He thrust his hard length up against her thigh over and over again while groaning into her mouth.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she bucked up her hips again, the throbbing in her core becoming almost too much for her. His thumb then pressed down on her clit, pushing her closer and closer until she felt the coil in her lower belly snap, the intense pleasure overwhelming her in an instant. She didn't even fully realise when his hips stuttered against her and he collapsed onto the bed.

After a while, she noticed the lack of warmth from his body above hers and turned her head slightly to look at him, his tired but content face pressed into the pillow.

For a minute they just basked in the moment, both panting and trying to calm their rapidly beating hearts. With a strength she didn't think he could muster at the moment he almost clumsily pulled her onto his chest and gently cradled her head.

"Was that good, honey? You liked it?" he whispered quietly.

Mary nodded lazily and raised her head to look at him. "Very much...  You really know how to make a girl feel good."

He just grinned and licked his swollen, red lips, looking proud. With a soft chuckle, she began to play with his now damp hair and he quickly leaned into her touch while closing his eyes. She thought it was so cute that he was so concerned with whether she enjoyed it or not and couldn't help but lean in to press another soft kiss to his lips.

"I guess we won't go back to the party?" she asked, smiling against his mouth.

His grin widened and he shook his head. "Not a chance," he whispered and settled further into the mattress with a contented sigh.

Mary quickly followed suit and buried her face into his neck, his skin still a bit clammy. It was like the world stood still for a moment, the faint voices from downstairs echoing through the corridors fading away.

She shifted hesitantly, torn between doing what was right and what she wanted to do. And there was nothing she wanted more than to lay in his arms right now. She knew it actually shouldn't matter after what they had just done.

Thankfully, Elvis quickly decided for her. He tightened his grip on her and moved to lay half on top of her, effectively pinning her down again.

"Nuh-uh, you're staying right here, Cherry. Riiiiight hereeee," he cooed, his voice muffled.

Mary looked up at the ceiling before grinning widely at his insistence that she'd stay. She wrapped her arms around him in response and closed her eyes. To her it felt so right to lay in his arms, a sense of belonging filling her entire being like never before.

"I love you," he mumbled, his face buried in her hair.

She felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. "... I love you too."

..................................................................................

Tagging: @lookingforrainbows @godlypresley @18lkpeters @richardslady121 @c-rosenn @karel-in-wonderland @kingdomforapony

[vampkillr]

Mixer — Peter Parker

m! reader — 728 words — any! peter but i wrote with andrew in mind

I couldn't explain it. The look we shared. As if from across some random person's living room, everything just clicked as we saw each other. His eyes held my gaze, tilting his head as he seemingly ignored the guy he was with. I was tempted to push my way through the array of drunk strangers, but his friend seemed to guide him somewhere else the moment I took a step forward. "Did you find someone?" Gwen, who— like myself— was perfectly sober, yelled over the booming speakers.

"I need some air!" I shouted so that she could hear me, and with a thumbs up I set out to the balcony. It was cold, and the breeze only added to the chill. No one was out here but me. Or so I thought.

"Not really a people person?" I turned to the voice. It was that guy from before. "Little too cold out here to be standing by yourself," He smiled. I couldn't tell if the pins and needles on my face was from him or the weather. He walked towards me, leaning against the guardrail. I could see the way his breath left him in puffs of vapor against the crisp air. "I'm Peter."

"Y/n." I outstretched my hand and he shook it. His hands were so much warmer than mine. "I don't really want to be here, my friend made me." he laughed at my confession.

"Mine kinda did, too." He was closer to me, our arms brushing against each other and yet I didn't seem to mind. This stranger, so close to me and yet he still felt too far. "Two losers out in the cold instead of getting hammered at a party..." He started, a smile creeping onto my face. "Two awfully pathetic losers." We seemed to look at each other at the same time, yet he was the only one with the strength not to turn away. No one's ever left me so flustered from just a look. It was like he knew who I was without me having to say anything. Like it just felt right for him to be here next to me. He was so calm, so warm; something about him drew me in. I met his gaze once more as he spoke again. "Sounds like they're perfect for each other, don't you think?" We just seemed to be getting closer. like an invisible force was pulling the two of us into each other and we weren't fighting against it.

My body moved on its own, turning towards him. He guided my arms to rest on his shoulders and before I could begin to think of how incredibly wrong it was, we were kissing. It didn't feel rushed. There wasn't some goal to the kiss. Neither of us were chasing anything. We were both right where we wanted to be. If I could freeze time and relive any moment of my life, it would be this one. The way he coaxed me into him, not pushing me any further than I was okay with; just reminding me that he wanted exactly what I did... There was something to him that I couldn't bring myself to deny. I could feel his reluctance to pull away as we separated. "Oh, please let me do that again..." He whispered and I smiled.

"Maybe we can go somewhere a little bit warmer first?" His eyes were piercing through me, like he was trying to find a reason to say no but couldn't. Within moments he had my hand in his and was leading me through the crowd and down the hall into a bedroom. He let my hand slip from his, finger's lingering on mine just long enough for me to notice. Music beat gently throughout the room, muffled enough as to not be loud or very prominent. I locked the door and walked further inside. Pictures of him and other people littered the walls amongst an array of posters and drawings for some sort of bracelet. On his desk, a closed laptop, a small toolbox and a bunch of spare parts for some sort of device. He sat down on the edge of the bed and just watched me. Leaned back, resting his weight on his hands and his head tilted. There weren't any words we really needed to share for this part.

now that classes fully started im only working like 2 24 hr shifts so i have a lot more free time 😸 anyways let me know if u want a continuation lol i have a pretty bad writers block so my imagination is not very great rn

[daemour]

The Corporal's Wife

Pairing: maybe Mingi x f!Reader, past Jongho x f!Reader

Word Count: 2309

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of death, that's all

Genre: Angst, fluff(?)

Summary: You're still hanging onto the hope that your husband, Corporal Jongho survived the war, but with six years and not a peep from him, you're starting to lose hope. When a mysterious young man turns up at the cafe you frequent, your days of quiet sadness may be coming to an end

TY to @sanjoongie for helping me choose a title lol <3

also if u want a sequel with what happens with yn and mingi lmk

-

After the war ended six years ago, you visit the café in front of your house daily. Perhaps it’s fruitless to hope, but you don’t know what you’d do if you stopped believing.

Your husband’s body was never found, and some days you wish they’d never told you that so you wouldn’t have a reason to stay in the same town you’ve always been in. Maybe you should attempt to move on, but there’s always a lingering feeling of guilt if you even think about it.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the chain in front of you scraping the floor. “Do you mind if I sit here? All the tables are full.”

A tall figure in a plain shirt stands before you, a large covering his hair and eyes. Warning bells sound in your head but against your better will, you shake your head. “Go right ahead, I don’t mind,” you say, gesturing to the empty seat. “May I ask your name?”

The man hums. “Mingi. And yours?”

“I’m (Y/N). What brings you to this town? I’ve lived here all my life and haven’t seen you around.”

Mingi’s lips pull upward into a small smile. “Hm. That’s a private question ma’am, but I’ll answer it if you limit your questions to one a day.”

You cock your head to the side. “You’re awfully sure that I’m that invested in a stranger’s life,” you respond cooly.

Mingi laughs hard and you can’t help but notice his adorably crooked teeth. “Fair enough. I’mm answer your question in good faith. I’m here to live a more peaceful life. Better?”

Your brows furrow. “More peaceful life?”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Mingi sing-songs, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face,” next question is for tomorrow.”

You gape at him but all he does in return is tip his hat and offer a smile before getting up and leaving. He intrigues you, and you are always in the café in the afternoon, so maybe you will take that offer. With a shake of your head, you return to your usual cup of tea and the book that had laid forgotten on the oaken table.

-

“You’re back!”

“You sound too pleased about that,” you grumble as Mingi takes a seat in front of you once more. “I usually come here around this time anyway, it wasn’t because of you.”

Mingi chuckles. “Still, you’re here. So I’ll let you ask another question.”

You sigh, but you can’t lie and say you aren’t even a little curious about this strange man who sits with you. “How old are you?”

Mingi smiles. “Safe question. I’m almost thirty, turning in four months.”

You cock your head. “You look young for your age. In fact, you’re actually younger than my husband,” you laugh quietly, looking down into your teacup. “You would have gotten along.”

Mingi hums, voice low in his throat. “Is he not living here with you?”

You shake your head, your breath catching in your throat as you try to avoid the subject. “Ah, he’s not here at the moment, it’s just me in this town.” You offer Mingi a weak smile. “Please excuse me, I must head home and finish some chores.”

Before he can say anything in response, you book it out of the café. You don’t want to face the truth just yet. You check the road before crossing it in a hurry to get to the safety of your empty house.

As you catch your breath just inside the wooden door, your eye catches the last picture you took with your husband. Jongho smiled so peacefully in the picture, with you standing right by his side and a matching smile on your own face.

Tears well up in your eyes and you rip your eyes from the picture. You cannot continue wallowing in your overwhelming love for him, but are you truly ready to move on? As the wetness blurs your vision, you kick off your shoes, stumbling towards the kitchen.

He’s more endearing than you had thought, with his bright smile and warm laugh. You’re getting more attached, you can feel it in your heart. You don’t know if you’re ready to handle the feelings that come with it, but you cannot dwell on that now, not when you’re just getting to know him. Maybe it’s just platonic.

You take another deep breath and fumble for the cabinet where Jongho kept his whiskey. You need to calm down.

-

“I’ve realised…” you start to voice the thought that had been plaguing your mind for the past few weeks. Although you’ve known Mingi for only three months, you’ve grown to enjoy his company and the insightful answers he offers of himself. However, one thing had been sitting pretty in your subconscious. The tension in your gut will not go away until you get your answers. “Why don’t you ask questions about me, Mingi?”

“...What?” Mingi asks, noticeably stiffening and pulling his hat further down his face. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we have his whole system of me asking you questions, but you never seem to want to get to know me. Why is that?”

Mingi sighs. “I suppose I can’t continue hiding. But here is not the place. Take a walk with me, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes widen You’ve only known Mingi in the comfort of the café. Although it is trivial, it feels like a big step to by anywhere but here with him. And yet, he’s still waiting patiently for your answer. “Okay…” you whisper, slowly standing and brushing your long skirt off. “Where to?”

Mingi smiles. “Not far. There’s a park a few blocks away.” You know that palace all too well—your husband proposed there. If that is your destination, you’re less worried.

The walk doesn’t take too long—Mingi’s stride is long and you practically scuttle after him. The park is just as nice as you remember, with a few couples milling about. He leads you to a pavilion and before you even have a chance to catch your breath, he starts to speak.

“To preface, I was a soldier in the war almost six years ago,” Mingi says slowly as if trying to choose the right words. “I was stationed in Inhon City. Sound familiar?”

The name tugs at your memory but you can’t recall it. “Not really…I’ve heard of it.”

Mingi sighs, pulling off his hat, and you gasp at the sight of zig-zagging scars decorating the upper half of his face. “Jongho was my commanding officer. I’m sure that name is familiar.”

“Jongho…” you whisper. “If you’re looking for him, he’s not here, I’m sorry.” Your voice sounds foreign even to yourself. You don’t know how Mingi knows your husband or their history, but if he’s here to kill you, he won’t get any satisfaction out of it.

Mingi shakes his head, pity in his eyes. “I know. That’s why I’m here. He loved to talk about you, you know.” Your eyes tear up “That’s why I never really had to ask about you, although it would have gotten suspicions off my back.” He smiles bitterly.

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“He’s dead, (Y/N).” Mingi smiles sadly, but you shake your head.

“No.” Your voice is quiet as if it would shield you from Mingi’s words. “He’s not.”

Mingi takes a step closer to you, almost reaching out to comfort you but deciding against it. “(Y/N), he’s been gone for six years. Do you really think he wouldn’t have found his way back to you if he was still alive? Jongho loved you. He wouldn’t want you to waste the rest of your life waiting for a man who couldn’t come back.”

You shake your head once more, but deep down, you know what Mingi said was true, even before you had met him. “His body was never found, Mingi. Please leave me alone,” you hiss, perhaps hoping your anger would reverse time and you never would have met this tall stranger. And Jongho wouldn’t be gone.

“(Y/N),” Mingi starts to say, reaching out for you, but you take a step back.

“I want to go home.”

Mingi frowns, retracting his hand. “At least let me walk you home,” he offers but you shake your head.

“What, you want to know where I live?”  The harsh words come out against your better judgement and Mingi flinches. “Oh, wait, you probably already know my address.”

“That’s unfair,” Mingi frowns but you shake your head.

“That’s unfair, but you getting to know me from a lie isn’t?” You raise an eyebrow and Mingi cowers.

“It wasn’t a lie…”

You glare at Mingi’s sorrowful voice. Like he has a right to sound so pitiful. “A lie of omission is still a lie, Mingi. Just…please leave me be. I need time.” He finally acquiesces and you escape back down the path.

You don’t know why you’re so affected but his words sent a sharp pain into your heart. Deep down, you knew that Jongho was not going to return after the first two years, but you needed that hope to keep you going. You don’t know what you’d do without the idea of Jongho returning. You’ve waited for so long that you don’t know if you could ever move away.

With a sob, you slam your front door shut behind you and fall to the ground. The last time you cried was when you heard the news of Jongho missing. All the pent-up frustration and sadness are finally being washed out of your soul.

In a way, it’s refreshing, but there are so many conflicting emotions that you don’t know what to do but to let it all out. As you wipe your teary eyes, you look over at a picture of Jongho’s siblings hung on the wall.  You hadn’t seen them since Jongho’s parents’ funeral which was right before the war started. Maybe they could offer insight.

With a last wipe of your eyes, you head to the study to call ahead and ask to visit. You know they won’t mind, but it’s the polite thing to do, and maybe just talking on the phone will help ease your worries.

-

A few days later you’re currently in the midst of packing for when you finally go to visit your in-laws as they graciously invited you to stay for the weekend. However, a knocking on the door interrupts your task. “(Y/N), can we talk?”

Your body stiffens at Mingi’s voice. Why is he here? You knew you shouldn’t leave without telling him where you were as you would have felt bad otherwise, but you were planning on asking the café owner to pass the message on, not to confront Mingi directly. “No.” You hate how shaky your voice is, and Mingi can hear the uncertainty.

“(Y/N), please.” You bite your lip as you stomp over to the door to give Mingi a piece of your mind.

“Mingi, I told you to please leave me alone,” you start to scold but stop short as you swing the door open and see Mingi’s face. His eyes are red and the dark circles under his eyes invoke regret in your chest. His hair is a mess as he holds his hat, turning the brim round and round in his hands.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” Mingi says, his eyes downcast. “I didn’t want to keep it from you, but I didn’t want to bring it up on our first meeting and just…never got around to telling you. The more time passed, the more worried I got about bringing it up. Jongho may have been my commander, but he was also my friend. I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

You close your eyes to try and stall the tears. “Mingi…I’m not mad. Maybe I was back then, but I understand now.” Your words are thick with emotion.  “I wish you told me before but I can understand why. I just…do need some time. It’s hard to not want to wait for someone I’ve been with for over ten years.”

Mingi nods. “I understand. I just couldn’t wait any longer before apologising. I should have told you sooner.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry, Mingi. I don’t hold it against you, bubt I need to finish packing. I’ll be visiting my family for a few days, but we can talk more when I get back, okay?” You offer him a smile which he returns, albeit shakily. “Thank you again for coming to chat.”

With a nod, he turns away and replaces his hat on his head. You watch his back as you feel a tightness in your chest at seeing him leave. “Mingi!” You call after him, and he stops in his tracks. “Would– would you like it come with me?”

He turns back around, confusion evident in his eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah. I’m visiting my brother-in-law and his wife. I’m sure they’d be happy to meet one of Jongho’s friends.” Mingi’s lips twitch and you fear you’ve gone too far. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were busy. I just…thought you might like it–”

“I’d love to,” Mingi cuts you off. “Thank you for inviting me, really.”

You tilt your head. “It’s no issue, really. Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea? I’m almost finished packing and we can leave soon after.”

Mingi nods carefully. “Thank you, (Y/N). Really.”

You get the feeling he’s thanking you for more than just tea, but you won’t point it out. Instead, you just open the door wider to let him in. It’s time for you to let Jongho go, and maybe Mingi will be the one to fill the void left in your life.

[moonspirit]

I know most of your nsfw asks are aruani, but what would you think of a Very Not Healthy Poly relationship between the Alliance pre rumbling.

Like

Post S3 Eren making EMA poly a thing, but bcs he's pulling away and he's not as open, both Armin and Mikasa are suffering due to lack of emotional bonding. After a while, Mikasa starts trying harder while Armin gets a small breakdown due to it being only about sex.

Jean having both the looks and the reputation, and using sex as a coping mechanical while adamantly refusing to admit it is a coping mechanism.

Connie having genuine rizz and Sasha having her 300k+ slowburn with Niccolo.

Jearmin happening after Armin hatefucking Floch after a really low moment w Jean doing the actual aftercare.

On the other side of the ocean Reiner having many people jump at him for his honorary marleyan status, women specifically for the marriage benefits, but Reiner being unable to actually do it bcs of all the blood that won him the reputation.

Bonus if EMA started w Eremika just going at it while Armin was in the room till he mentioned it and then they invited him to join.

Just, really fucked up sex dynamics between traumatised teenagers w no access to therapy

[N/SFW]

Ahaha, hello and no problem, all ideas welcome~!

Veeerrryyy intriguing tho! I don't have much trouble imagining this because 1. It's not healthy, yes!! And 2. These kids have been through way too much to not resort to the easiest way to forget everything and feel good - sex.

I've said it before, but sex can be a profoundly deep ritual to go through, it has the potential to transcend visible boundaries of tangible emotion. At the same time, sex can also become one of the easiest things to turn to in times of weakness. Given the multitude of issues our characters have, it's possible to picture them depending on sexual pleasure as a means of consoling themselves from various lows.

EMA are a whole other level of unhealthy tho. Eren's emotional distance and bottling up, Mikasa's fear of ruining everything by asking for what she really wants and Armin's self-doubt and insecurity over his place among them. Man, I can imagine any kind of poly relationship between them (particularly one that's sexual) teeming with awfully unhealthy vibes. In a way sex becomes the closest thing they have to proper communication - it's easier to express things via body language than putting them in words, a thing that's especially a problem for Armin because he's not bad with words and would really like to receive verbal reassurance... but unfortunately, the other two are terrible at it. And at some point, when the sex too, grows obsolete for obvious reasons, it's just plain suffering because nobody's getting what they want.

Ugh, pain.

Jean really seems to me (and this is a personal hc of mine) to be someone who is very aware of his appeal and his attractiveness, wants to use it for his own pleasure, but is unable to really find any satisfaction from it. What he craves is some deep emotional connection, something that is precious and treasured. Casual sex, then, is only a temporary way out of the despair of not having such a relationship, and offers him a few minutes of high while sending him to the ditch right afterwards.

Jearmin tho? Oh boy. I can see Armin giving in to hate sex tendencies with Floch lol, what with how he can become self-destructive at the hands of someone who doesn't really appreciate him or take care of him - in fact, that's an heavily abusive relationship that can also be hard to get out of. But Jean being the one to deliver aftercare to Armin, telling him the real things he needs to hear and comforting him, melting away the lies and cruel words he just received at the hands of Floch, seems to me to be the one tiny shred of wholesome-ness in all of these terribly unhealthy relationships lol.

Pre-rumbling Connie's the only normal one here. Really. And Sasha really does deserve her fairytale romance with Niccolo ft. Plenty of food (this was gold haha xD).

When it comes to Reiner though. Really nice point you make about him not being able to get it on with the people that flock to him because of his sins - I've never thought of it that way! It makes sense tho - he's a deeply guilty character, shouldering nearly all of (if not entirely) the weight of RBA's mission on Paradis. He has a conscience, and maybe he will think he doesn't even deserve the small pleasures of the flesh because of what he did. The denial is a punishment he inflicts on himself.

You can't forget Annie and Pieck tho. They too carry so much of trauma. More so Annie, who is touch starved, has never been loved or cared for, has only been used for her lethality, and was forced into a mission she had no desire for. I see her hungrily devouring any kind of emotional connect she gets, especially if that's sex, since it's easier as mentioned before. She's really not good with words either, so yeah, sex to offer some temporary relief and make her feel like she's actually something more than just a weapon of war.

The same for Pieck. Among all of the warriors, she's always seemed the most sensible to me, pragmatic and grounded in reality. She, more than anyone else, knows her place in the world, as an Eldian, as a warrior, and as a shifter. With Annie gone, she probably had nobody to really "talk" to or become close with, and while I see her recognizing that sex isn't the solution for her loneliness, she's still a human and a young girl at that; for a few minutes during the act, she feels connected to someone. And who can blame her for that?

A lot of wonderful potential for character exploration here ._. Thank you for sharing!

[artificial-sleep]

Tapping into Denki being miserably in love -- the painful, aching kind that Ovid warned of.

At first, Kyouka is guarded, really guarded. Denki has had a crush on her for a while, but she keeps her distance, pushing him away over and over again.

She's convinced that this a game to him: that he doesn't really know what love is and he can't love her. He's a flirt, your typical boy who likes the prize of the chase more than the human being who comes with it. She's terrified of falling for him, so she rejects him continually.

Until one day she gives him a chance.

But only after she makes him swear he'll treat her right. She demands respect, and Denki seems to think her going out with him is all lighthearted and fun, giddy with the excitement. It fuels her fire.

"I'm gonna treat you like a princess, Jirou. I promise!" he says with a toothy grin, and she scowls.

"No! I am absolutely not a princess." Denki looks confused, but he can't possibly understand what it meant to be an object of affection in the Middle Ages.

He can't possibly imagine what it means to be a woman now. It means to be just that: an object, a possession. It makes her skin crawl with uneasiness. She wants to be loved, not made into doll.

"I'm a human being. Not just a silly little girl. And I'm no treasure or princess or pet because I cannot be owned. I can only be loved."

Denki doesn't get it. Of course he doesn't. And he stupidly blurts out, "I do love y-" to which Kyouka plugs her ears immediately to keep the poisoned words out of her head.

"No, you don't," she demands, "You can't because you don't even know me. If you want to love me, then you have to know me."

So Denki accepts the challenge. And Kyouka stays carefully guarded along the way, not giving more to him than he can handle.

She withholds the first kiss for a long time and any private encounters for that matter.

They meet in public spaces and they talk. And Denki slowly knows Kyouka, and the fleeting flittering his stomach used to do when he saw her has progressed into a monster.

He feels like he might be swallowed whole by the sensation of how Kyouka makes him feel until he's a stumbling idiot. Until it's not funny or cute anymore and the love he feels for her is so overwhelming it might rip him apart.

Only then does she allow him true access, a deeper, truer love until he's spilling over hopelessly, crying on her doorstep in the middle of the night because he's so miserably, awfully, terribly, dreadfully in love that he'll die if he can't be with her.

"Kyouka, I love you. I swear, I love you. I can't get enough of you. I think about you all the time. Everything I do, I think if it would make you happy. I- I can't imagine going a day without you, and I can't even picture a future without you in it. I-I love you.

I love you just like you taught me I would. And I love you for exactly who you are as you are now."

It's like a dam breaks, Kyouka's careful composure quickly reduced to crumbs. She's sobbing, holding him impossibly closer, chanting pleas of her unrequited love.

And this is... This is the love she was worried about. 

And now she had taught the man she loves how to harvest it and admonish her in it, and all she can do is let it wreck her now until they're both hopeless, lovesick fools.

- E N D -

Hi I needed this to restore my faith in heteroromance (it didn't work I still think it's a hoax lol) but like yeah sometimes love fucking HURTS AGHH so if you want love to hurt here's my Playlist for this one:

Just the Same - Bruno Major

Oh Comely - Neutral Milk Hotel

It Will Rain - Bruno Mars and also If I Knew

And Work Song - Hozier but also all of Hozier because he has a gift for writing about painful love his songs just hurt so good and hit every damn time

Okay thank you have a good day

[distortedclouds]

And hi once again!

This one is for the thing "questions I think be fun to be asked" :3

1, 6, 9, 11, 15, 17, 24

Hello hello!!!

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

this can be a little tricky but I'll try:

Learning English at a young age! that sure did open up a punch of doors for me getting to read different opinions and perspectives from all over the world since english is such as "universal" language at the moment. Kind of also made me the black sheep in my family and community lol

Having a teacher who recommended me philosophy books in 6th grade. While Im no longer an avid philosophy reader it sure did help form me

Would it be a cliché to say writing? I've been writing "long" stories ever since I've learned to string complex sentences. Yes, my 60% kill bill plagiarism fantasy i wrote at 11 counts. But writing, just as much as reading, was the best tool at not only empathy and really getting into other people's shoes, but also getting into mine, if that makes sense, and exploring my own experiences and emotions at more depth

6. what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

oh man THE PEOPLE!!! THE P E O P L E !!

I'm not a social butterfly and I don't go around talking to many people, but online it's kind of a different story. The best part of a fandom is the people there!

Heck I even got married thanks to fandom lol

9. tell a story about your childhood

ANNA PLEASE!!!

11. what do you consider to be romance?

I guess I tie romance up very closely with intimacy. So I kind of think that platonic relationships and friendships could also be romantic in a sense

But going out of your way to make someone's day, while thinking about them and their smile, is romantic. So is taking care of anything the two of you share, like your living space or any items you regularly share. Sure all the traditional elements of flowers and chocolate and dates count, but those are only a part of the picture

15. what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

Belonging. It's really hard to call a place home when an integral part of you is hidden or rejected. Home can be with people, it can be a place you sort of, easily find your place around, it could be with your pet

17. name 3 things that make you happy

3 more thinfs...

Coffee!

Biiiig mountains in the distance

Friends ( those aren't things but it counts I guess)

24. what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

That I've become more adept at guiding my stubbornness towards more productive avenues. I guess that's what you would call "determination" to avoid the negative stigma of the word but

I'm stubborn. Awfully so. I won't deny or fight it, but maybe help it help me on the way

[citrinekay]

27, 32 and 37 for the weird questions for writers game if you feel like it!

I love your writing so much!!

Hi, thank you so much for the ask! I love being given the opportunity to talk about my fics/writing :))) 27. Who is the most stressful character you've ever written and why? Oh this is easy. John Silver from Black Sails, hands down. He's stressful because everything he says is a lie while at the same time, he feels Everything at level 9000. There is this constant discrepancy between what he is saying and what he is actually feeling. Massive characters details were purposefully left out by the writers, leaving humble fanfic authors like myself patching together what I DO have to create a whole picture from his POV while still trying to be true to the shadowy nature of the character from canon. Second place probably goes to Lee Dong-sik for similar reasons. He's a slippery guy to get your hands/mind around because he's always deflecting lol 32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you? This is tough. I've read a lot of good books, novels, and fanfics over the years but the very first passage that popped into my head is this one from James Baldwins' Giovanni's Room:

"I did not know what to do or where to go. I found myself at last along the river, slowly going home. And this was perhaps the first time in my life that death occurred to me as a reality. I thought of the people before me who had looked down at the river and gone to sleep beneath it. I wondered about them. I wondered how they had done it - it, the physical act. I had thought of suicide when I was much younger, as possibly, we all have, but then it would have been for revenge, it would have been my way of informing the world how awfully it had made me suffer. But the silence of the evening, as I wondered home, had nothing to do with that storm, that far-off boy. I simply wondered about the dead because their days had ended and I did not know how I would get through mine.

Pretty dark, I know. But this book is one of the best I've ever read and I would encourage anyone, especially folks identifying as LGBTQ+ in some way, to read it. It's a book not just about being gay but about not succumbing to fear and failing to let anyone in and love you. What it means to me is embracing my queer identity and opening the doors of my heart to let love in because in this whole world, it's the most important thing. 37. If you were remembered only by the words you put on the page, what would future historians think of you? I would love to think that historians would remember for me for my queer love stories about identity, home, and belonging, but lets be real. The world is not that nice to queer people. They would probably remember me for all my raunchy, filthy, kinky porn and consider me a hedonistic, irredeemable heathen. In the end, I suppose that's okay Send me a number from this ask game, Weird Questions for Writers, if you want to hear more!

[seiwas]

ari!!!! this was soooo adorable 🥺 megs was sooo cute 🥺

ohmgewash ari you already know that what i love most about your writing is your ability to paint a scene, to describe everything!

your words are always so rich and vivid, sometimes i feel like i'm reading through a dictionary 😭 or a thesaurus... (i think a thesaurus is more fitting 😭)

apart from that though, i thoroughly enjoyed how you characterised megumi here 🥺 he's so pookie so cutie so nervy 🥺 and the dialogue you used to convey that too!!! omg it's so megumi 🥺

he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic; maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. <- i love how we just all agree that megumi is so dog boy to the point that he has dog patterned things 😭

the boy behind the counter looks angelic. <- he rlly is. so pretty. UGH

gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger <- i LOVE that you highlighted this because i agree!!!¹

maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of; one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. <- i like how you conveyed how kinda grumpy he is!! bc he rlly is 😭 unless he tells me otherwise, i'd fr think he hates me 😭 you're also so good at zooming in on the microactions!! it's so vivid and paints such a picture!!!

he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. <- and YES omg. i LOVE the way you describe his physical features. it's such a big part for me when it comes to megs fics

when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle. <- I LAUGHED SO HARD AT THIS TOO OMG BC SO REAL 😭 borderline SCANDALOUS i'd say.

he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers; but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane.  <- MY GOD he's so cute for this 😭² (peep the candy cane theme too!! i love that!!)

”you can borrow it... if you want to, i mean.”; "yeah. we can... talk. about it. once you've read it. if you want."; ”megumi, my name, i work here.” <- ari that is SO him pls 😭😭 the pauses!! my god²

and OMG idk if it's just me but a part of me wonders if when he says "my sister," to clarify is bc he doesn't want reader to get the wrong impression/think the wrong thing 😭

he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring <- EXACTLY

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth. <- omg pls the way he's lying thru his TEETH LOL no wonder he was so nervous 😭😭

he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love. <- and thiS TOO!!! i think it's one of the sweetest parts of him 🥺 i feel like he resists the very thing he attracts (but he attracts them for a reason!! and it's bc!! these are the people good for him yknow?)

i think he'd be so gentle with handling things too—mostly bc he'd be too afraid of breaking anything. megumi strikes me so much as a guy who has his things lasting years bc of well he takes care of them. would only switch out his phone every 5-6 years or smth and even then the phone's performance is still pretty ok considering how long he's had it.

megumi is such a 'i'd rather die than embarrass myself by saying how i feel' kind of boy 😭 and that puts him in a lot of situations where he holds himself back on certain things 😭 but it's soooo obvious on him!! the flush of his cheeks!! neck!! ears!! everything!! and the awkwardness!! in his pauses!! when he speaks!!!

as per usual!! i will be citing some of my fave lines 🥺 i a kind of liveblogging of my thoughts as i was reading!!!

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen; you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now. <- literally felt this omg jhsdbfs i wouldn't know what to do with myself either

silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth <- i LOVE this line!!!

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind. <- i love the winter theme going through it too!!! your descriptions in the entire fic were so consistently thematic!!! genius!!!

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch. <- this line is so smart to me too!!!! the usage of slow as a symbolism!! aaaah i am kicking my feet ari!!

another amazing piece by you ari!! sort of like a captured moment!! meant to be tucked away safely!! 🥺 the kind you write in journals, yknow?

the green in your eyes (makes me feel warm inside) ; megumi fushiguro

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again. 

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence. 

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow. 

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading. 

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street. 

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic. 

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself. 

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes. 

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books. 

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you. 

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now. 

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer. 

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s. 

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by. 

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat. 

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion. 

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. 

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips. 

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters. 

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight. 

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips. 

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted. 

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite. 

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him? 

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time. 

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert — 

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. 

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane. 

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!” 

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you. 

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air. 

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.” 

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same. 

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass. 

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention. 

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens. 

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells. 

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates. 

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess. 

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says. 

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave. 

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.” 

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter? 

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass. 

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there. 

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction. 

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything. 

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything. 

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust. 

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love. 

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile. 

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold. 

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

[mlobsters]

supernatural s14e19 jack in the box (w. eugenie ross-leming, brad buckner)

foreboding episode name. also rolling my eyes again that they decided to do hallucifer 2.0 with jack

sigh i am not really up for mary's wake today. next day. i tried to watch jason kelce's retirement press conference, which was so emotionally taxing, i decided watching this episode would be better. watching someone trying to not cry when their entire body is fighting it is so hard. so hard. i made it a minute before my chest hurt so much i had to stop. anyway.

well i did yell at sam for burning mary's picture, but this the same one but bigger so i guess it was fine. weird choice, but fine.

SAM Hey. Uh, most everybody's headed out, but Bobby's gonna stick around. I thought maybe we could open that scotch Ketch left and hang out, talk about Mom. DEAN "Talk about Mom"? SAM Yeah. DEAN Isn't that what we've been doing?

dean handling it as well as expected

quick sob in the woods to take the edge off so he can go back to being emotionally unavailable for sam. i get it. my personal m.o. is to go silently sob somewhere and then come back and be able to have a cool, calm and collected rational conversation about things. wouldn't recommend that either

SAM But they're real, right? We know that Mom's not sitting on a cloud playing a harp. She's in a good place. Or she's in a great place. She's with Dad. DEAN Hmm. You know what else? There wasn't enough left of her to even try to bring her back.

i have been thinking about that a lot lately. knowing about heaven etc, if it weren't so busted and broken down, what's the big deal if someone dies. especially if they're a "special" case soulmate type so they get another actual human to be blissful with. like the only real-real is on earth, they say, but the alternative sounds awfully compelling

dumah having jack turn a heretic into a pillar of salt, hokay

DUMAH Words can't begin to express how Sam and Dean will feel. Now here is the real test. We need more angels. You're not God. You can't just make them out of thin air. But if a human were predisposed to it, maybe you could take their soul and forge them into one of us.

LOL what. they got duped by lucifer when he said he could make more angels, but i guess they've been working the problem

handy we have this special box ready for eternal torture of archangels and maybe juiced up nephilims? who knows

DEAN No. Well, I mean, I want Zeppelin to get back together. But what I need -- What we need is to stop Jack. Big difference. But here's the deal. We both got to sign off on it. This might be our only shot, and if he even catches a whiff that this is a scam, he's off into the wind. SAM Exactly. And how do you think he's not gonna know something's up? DEAN Because you're gonna be so damn sincere. SAM Me? DEAN Mm-hmm. SAM Why me? DEAN Because you've always been in his corner, all right? You're his go-to guy. Sam, if you reach out, he'll come. If I do it, after what happened to Mom, I could lose it. I will lose it.

how about we cool off, take a minute or week or four, and think about this first. but dean wants to do it literally right now. great.

did not see castiel ganking dumah coming, all righty.

SAM So what do we do now? Just go on with Jack locked up in there forever?

i mean yeah it's reversible but this is the most accelerated plotline ever. like an instant pot to turn jack into lucifer

SAM You know, I never thought it would end like this with Jack. DEAN Sammy, we knew from the beginning it was a long shot with him. SAM Yeah. Yeah, but long shots are kind of our thing.

one day you've got three dads who love you and then you fuck up and they're locking you in a box

DEAN He's locked up, safe. He's in the Ma'lak box. CASTIEL No!

please, we need some pushback on dean about this.

DEAN He agreed to it. Because deep down, I think he knows it's best. CASTIEL No. You're doing what Dumah -- You are manipulating him.

tell him, cas. i hate when they have dean be like this

all right. surprise, surprise. it didn't go well.

i haven't finished an episode this quickly in ages.