#well hello handsome ( visual )

[followthebluebell]

hello! I was scrolling through your blog (delightful) and found the post about Beef and his whiskers position, and I'm ashamed to say that in all my near-thirty years of being around cats and thinking I understand them pretty well I never thought to pay attention to the 'circle shape'. could you please expound a bit on what to look for when it comes to whiskers position and how to interpret it? Beef is an absolute sweetheart but looking at a brachy cat as an example makes it a bit hard for me to generalize. thank you!

Thank you! And also thank you for your patience--- I wanted to give some really good examples and have been scouring my blog for the best circle whisker cats I could find.

Picture heavy post under this.

so this is the cat grimace scale. It's a sort of way to visually see if a cat is in pain/distress, and it gives a simplified view of the things I'm going to discuss. It's important to recognize that whisker shape/position is just ONE piece of communication and doesn't tell the whole story. A lot of this is also based on CONTEXT as well.

When you're looking at a cat face, here are the things you really want to pay attention to:

Ear position—Ears facing forward, ears slightly pulled apart, or ears flattened and rotated outward.

Orbital tightening—Eyes opened, eyes partially opened, or eyes squinted.

Muzzle tension—Muzzle relaxed (round), muzzle mildly tense, or muzzle tense (elliptical).

Whisker position—Whiskers loose and curved, whiskers slightly curved or straight, or whiskers straight and moving forward.

Head position—Head above the shoulder line, head aligned with the shoulder line, or head below the shoulder line or tilted.

Calypso's huge whiskers give a REALLY good visual on the 'circle shape' to look for. You can see her whiskers are pushed forward and are loose and curved. She's feeling playful and engaged! She really wants to know what I'm up to and what's in my hand (spoiler alert, it was treats)

Compare that to this later picture, taken after she heard a dog bark nearby:

Her muzzle is tighter. Her whiskers are pulled back a bit, and are straight. Her ears are set differently as well, one pulled back a bit. She's concerned, but not terribly worried about this strange sound.

You can also compare it to this handsome lad:

Again, his whiskers are fairly straight. They aren't pulled back as far, but he's still very tense. He was extremely tense and upset that I took his water dish away from him (because it needed to be cleaned and changed).

Milo is another great example of excited whiskers. They're pushed forward and curved, forming a sort of circle. Like Calypso, he's interested in what I'm doing and feeling playful. He was very interested in the toy I was throwing for him.

Gumdrop is a good example of a more relaxed whisker position. She's curious, but not feeling playful. Her whiskers are held very loosely rather than being pushed forward. Her tail nub is up, indicating friendliness and confidence.

[ssahotchnerr]

Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! Hope you're doing well! Do you have any tips or methods on writing with the five senses technique?

Writing Notes: Sensory Language

Sensory imagery works by engaging a reader’s five senses.

Some Words to Describe Sight

ancient, angular, animated, arrogant, attractive, awkward, beefy, blotched, bold, broken, bulky, cheap, cluttered, colored, crinkled, curved, delicate, dim, dingy, drab, dramatic, elegant, energetic, exhausted, exotic, feeble, flashy, flat, flimsy, fluffy, flush, formal, frail, frilled, glassy, glossy, glowing, grassy, handsome, hefty, irregular, jammed, lavish, leafy, lively, loose, massive, miniature, muddled, muddy, murky, muscular, opulent, orderly, painted, peaceful, placid, pristine, radiant, ramshackle, regal, rigid, robust, ruffled, shabby, shadowy, shapely, sheer, shimmering, shiny, sickly, slender, sparkling, sparkly, speckled, spotted, sprinkled, stout, stretched, striped, sturdy, sunny, supple, swarming, swollen, tantalizing, tidy, timid, tinted, tranquil, vibrant, vivid, wavy, weightless, weighty, wild, wiry, worn, wrecked, wrinkled

Some Words to Describe Smell

acrid, ambrosial, antiseptic, aromatic, briny, burnt, clean, earthy, fishy, flowery, foul, fragrant, fresh, gamy, gaseous, lemony, minty, moldy, musty, odorous, overpowering, perfumed, piney, piquant, pungent, putrid, rancid, reeking, rotten, scented, sharp, skunky, smoky, spoiled, stagnant, stench, sterile, sweet, tempting, woodsy

Some Words to Describe Sound

Words to describe harsh or loud sounds: If you want to articulate abrupt, piercing, or loud noises, use: beep, bellow, blare, cackle, clack, clang, clank, clink, croak, earsplitting, full blast, grating, high frequency, huff, jarring, rasp, rumble, scrunch, shriek, toot, twang, vibrating, wail, and zap.

Words for soft or subtle sounds: Gentle noises can be challenging to describe. Here are some descriptors to use to evoke quiet noises: breathy, chime, droning, fizz, glug, gurgle, jingle, moan, sizzle, squish, swish, swoosh, tinkle, trill, wheeze, whir, and whoosh.

Animal sounds to describe noises: English language readers often associate these words with animal noises, but you can use them to create imaginative descriptions of other sounds: bleat, bray, chirping, cluck, hoot, howl, meow, neigh, purr, quack, roar, woof, yelp.

Some Words to Describe Taste

acidic, bitter, bittersweet, bland, burnt, buttery, creamy, crisp, fatty, fiery, fishy, flavorful, flavorless, fresh, fruity, greasy, hearty, insipid, juicy, luscious, mild, minty, nauseating, oily, palatable, peppery, pungent, raw, refreshing, rotten, salty, savory, smoky, sour, spicy, spoiled, stinging, sugared, sugary, sweet, syrupy, tangy, tart, vinegary, zesty

Some Words to Describe Touch

arid, balmy, blistering, boiling, breezy, bumpy, burning, chilly, clammy, coarse, cool, crisp, damp, dehydrated, dense, dried, dull, dusty, elastic, feathery, fleshy, fragile, fresh, frosty, fuzzy, gluey, gritty, hairy, heavy, jagged, leathery, lukewarm, mushy, oily, prickly, rubbery, sandy, satiny, scorching, searing, shriveled, shrunken, silky, sizzling, slight, slippery, spiky, steamy, sticky, stifling, stocky, sultry, sweltering, tender, tepid, thick, tough, velvety, waxy

Describing how something tastes, smells, sounds, or feels—not just how it looks—makes a passage or scene come alive.

Using a combination of imagery and sensory imagery arms the reader with as much information as possible and helps them create a more vivid mental picture of what is happening.

Types of Sensory Imagery

A passage of writing can contain imagery that appeals to multiple senses. It is useful to break down sensory imagery by sense.

Visual imagery engages the sense of sight. This is what you can see, and includes visual descriptions. Physical attributes including color, size, shape, lightness and darkness, shadows, and shade are all part of visual imagery.

Gustatory imagery engages the sense of taste. This is what you can taste, and includes flavors. This can include the five basic tastes—sweet, salty, bitter, sour, and umami—as well as the textures and sensations tied to the act of eating.

Tactile imagery engages the sense of touch. This is what you can feel, and includes textures and the many sensations a human being experiences when touching something. Differences in temperature is also a part of tactile imagery.

Auditory imagery engages the sense of hearing. This is the way things sound. Literary devices such as onomatopoeia and alliteration can help create sounds in writing.

Olfactory imagery engages the sense of smell. Scent is one of the most direct triggers of memory and emotion, but can be difficult to write about. Since taste and smell are so closely linked, you’ll sometimes find the same words (such as “sweet”) used to describe both. Simile is common in olfactory imagery, because it allows writers to compare a particular scent to common smells like dirt, grass, manure, or roses.

Kinesthetic imagery (a.k.a kinesthesia) engages the feeling of movement. This can be similar to tactile imagery but deals more with full-body sensations, such as those experienced during exercise. Rushing water, flapping wings, and pounding hearts are all examples of kinesthetic imagery.

Vivid vs. Vague Language

The sensory details you select in your writing should create for your reader the same picture you have in your mind. Instead of using vague, general words, your sensory language should be concrete and sensory-packed. This makes the difference between vivid and vague language.

Examples. Vague — Vivid

The food was unappetizing. — The pale turkey slices floated limply in a pool of murky fat.

The sprinkler was refreshing. — The cool water from the sprinkler sprayed our hot faces.

The candy was sour. — My taste buds recoiled from the sudden tartness, drawing my lips into a pucker.

Examples Using Sensory Details

to see - The tiny caterpillar climbed up the bright green leaf.

to hear - The passengers heard the loud screech of the train’s wheels.

to smell - The sweet aroma of fresh strawberries brought back memories of summer.

to touch - The mud felt slimy and cold between my toes.

to taste - The fresh, tangy lemon drops made my lips pucker.

to feel - In the hot July sun, our shirts felt like wet paper sticking to our backs.

What to Avoid When Using Sensory Detail

Too many adjectives—retain only the most powerful words in your writing, deleting any unnecessary words.

Too many adverbs—verbs are stronger than adverbs. Example: "She strolled into the room" is more powerful than "She walked casually into the room."

Clichéd figures of speech—overused language, such as "green with envy", signals a lack of imagination. Use fresh, descriptive words that go against rote thinking.

Writing Beyond the Five Senses

Expand your sensory writing toolkit by exploring sensations beyond the traditional five senses.

Seeing Emotions: Instead of stating emotions, show them through physical expressions. A happy person might have bright, sparkling eyes, while a sad person's shoulders could slump. Characters may also be able to see each other’s auras.

Kinesthesia: Also known as proprioception, this sense is about feeling a body's movement in space. It's the awareness of limbs' positions and movements, which can be tinkered with in interesting ways (say, within a dream or on a planet with different gravity). 

Synesthesia: Experiment with characters who experience multiple senses simultaneously, such as seeing colors when hearing music (sound-to-color synesthesia), and feeling as though they’re being touched when they see another person receiving physical contact (mirror-touch synesthesia). 

Muted & Heightened Senses: Explore the dynamics of characters with lost or enhanced senses.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

Additional posts:

List of Sensory Words with Definitions

List of Sounds with Definitions

Some Perfumery Vocabulary

Words to Describe Food

Words to Describe Someone's Voice

Words to Describe Wine

Hope you're doing well yourself, and all the best with your writing!

[fadedtoneverland]

hello I hope you are well, could you write Mingi x male reader who is androgynous and biracial, the reader is a soloist and his music style is city pop fluff and suggestive please 🫶

“pretty city boy” | s.mg

❤︎ synopsis — just some fluff headcanons of mingi with his amazing bf <3

pairing: idol!mingi x soloist!male!reader

theme: fluff ✿ , suggestive ❤︎

a/n: more ateez !! and with a male reader too! ugh, i love my male readers 🫶🫶 we need more of them in the fanfic space.

cw: suggestive jokes. innuendos (because it’s mingi). teasing from woosansang

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before the relationship

when you first joined the industry, you had no idea what to really expect.

making a fan base and career out of being a kpop soloist was scary, especially because you didn’t have a group prior to debuting to gain traction from

so of course, you were scared

but thanks to your amazing company and staff, they promoted you well enough to make your name known throughout all of korea, and even worldwide.

and of course, when fame comes, other idols start naturally hearing about you.

one of them being song mingi from ateez

as a musician himself, mingi had very high respect for the pretty boy with amazing vocals and stunning, unique visuals.

that pretty boy being you, of course.

so naturally, he got invested

mingi learned more about your company, and also the songs you wrote. he really liked the city pop melodies you’d incorporate, and some of the heavy themes you’d sing about in your songs.

so after diving into your discography, he begged hongjoong to get tickets to one of your seoul concerts

it took a lot of convincing, but joong eventually gave in

so now him, hongjoong, seonghwa and san all went together to watch your concert, and get the full experience of your performances

and it was totally worth draining the captain’s wallet

as a performance heavy idol, mingi takes live performances very seriously. his craft is impeccable, and here he was, starstruck by how easily you dominated the stage

you were made to be a star. it’s like god crafted your very being to make the whole world fall in love with you and scream your name

just like how mingi did in this moment

he was so in awe, that san took notice of this, and even waved a hand in front of mingi’s face during the intermission, trying to get his attention.

not like mingi cared, he still processing the adrenaline high from that insane performance. and it was only the first act

when mingi met you at send off, you were just as sweet as you seemed on stage. polite and courteous, even thanking your sunbaenims for attending your concert

to be honest, you were also fanboying a little upon finding out half of ateez was at your concert. you admired their work a lot, and were very happy to know they enjoyed your performance

safe to say, that wouldn’t be the last time you saw mingi. you kept seeing ateez throughout various award shows and promotions, and of course, you’d talk with mingi every chance you got

he was the member that captivated you the most. tall, handsome, charismatic, talented. just everything a guy should be.

and also he was like totally your type too but let’s not talk too much about that

one day after an award show and during an after party, you gave mingi your number, and soon you both started talking more

and of course, that blossomed into something more

during the relationship

mingi first confessed to you, and over text as well

he’s a busy man, so he never had the chance to do anything romantic as a confession

luckily, you accepted, and you both lived for this secret relationship you guys had.

obviously mingi told ateez, and they’re all very supportive

especially the hyungs, hongjoong and seonghwa. they do their best to assure that they support this, and will do anything to protect his relationship

kq also goes extra lengths to keep his relationship private, as does your record label.

the relationship itself is so cute

mingi likes to act all tough and hardcore, with his dude-bro shades n’ all

but the minute you’re around, he softens up like a puppy

you give him the princess treatment he deserves. surprisingly, you’re the one that pampers mingi more in the relationship, and he doesn’t mind at all.

more hugs and kisses from you, please and thank you.

he calls you his pretty boy

emphasis on the “his”, mingi is lowkey very possessive, and does not want to share his lover.

yeosang, wooyoung and san tease mingi endlessly for acting like such a simp around you.

like one minute, he’ll be arguing with wooyoung about who ate the last pack of ramyeon, but the minute he gets a call from you, he stops the argument and is like “hiii babyyy!! :33”

leaving wooyoung dumbfounded, and mocking mingi in the background with his other two besties

“ewwww look at the simp.” “gay behavior smh.” “get a room you guys”

those are some cool phrases from the trio

your dates consist of composing songs together and visiting cafes

the idol life is demanding and hectic, so your downtime is spent with nice, calming activities

whenever mingi’s stressing about something or experiencing bad anxiety, you kiss his knuckles to make him feel better

and following it by peppering his face with a bunch of kisses to let him know he’s loved <33

mingi’s love language is physical affection.

whenever you’re over at the ateez dorms, which is not often, he’ll take it upon himself to throw his body over you, and cuddle you all day.

mingi will also slap your ass a lot

like, a lot. and you can’t do anything to stop it.

sometimes he’ll straight up grab your ass from behind and whisper not so pg-13 things in your ear

“y’know it’d be really easy for me to just bend you over right now on this kitchen counter.” “mingi i swear to god-“

he’s a shameless little fucker whenever it’s just the two of you.

mingi is not the most horny guy in the world, but damn does he know how to keep you screaming all night

one particular night you guys went at it a little too hard in the ateez dorms… and accidentally kept a few people awake.

the next morning, you limped into the kitchen to see a very… very agitated choi san, with his arms crossed and bloodshot eyes

you would’ve been terrified if he didn’t look so goofy in the moment.

“.. pfft— hey san-“ don’t talk to me.”

you apologized to him of course, and san forgave you.

mingi then later walked in the kitchen with visible hickeys on his neck, and shot a smug ass grin to san. a grin that basically said “yep. i bagged that pretty boy.”

overall, the relationship is very sweet and loving, and you couldn’t be happier to have a man like mingi <3

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fadedtoneverland © 2024 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[peachiejeongin]

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! | Han Jisung

Synopsis: 30 years ago, you agreed to marry some sort of demonic, yet incredibly handsome creature in order to save the spiritual family whom haunted your attic; when the former was banished back to the afterlife, you figured you would never see him again. little did you know, an unlikely yet realistic relationship between the two of you would spark as he became the key in a journey to save your daughter...

Pairing: Beetlejuice!Han X fem!reader (reader resembles Lydia Deetz from 'Beetlejuice')

Genre: Dark Comedy AU, Fluff Towards the End

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: MAJOR BEETLEJUICE 2 SPOILERS AHEAD (The plot is edited at some points), Swearing, Mentions of Death, some gore depictions, mentions of a poor mother-daughter dynamic at some points, coerced marriage (sort of?), I turned Beetlejuice into a loverboy, NOT proofread

Notice: Hello, my loves! I have recently watched 'Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!' and it gave me the inspiration for this fan fiction! Obviously, multiple aspects of the original plot have been changed to fit the description of this story, such as the year the original tale takes place changing by a few years, additional dialogue, and a complete revamp of the dynamic between "Beetlejuice" (Han) and "Lydia" (Y/N), which I do apologize for. I would also like to put forth this statement: I do NOT own the rights to 'Beetlejuice,' nor any of its characters! I only hold the copyright to the scenes I create! Without further ado, enjoy the story! :)

"I can't believe I'm doing this," you whisper with pure dread and anxiety coating your voice as you stood in the attic of your old home. The model of your town constructed by the married couple that had lived there prior seemed to tremble along with your hands. 'I have to. It's my only choice,' you mouthed to nobody in particular; truly, you were correct. If you had another option, you would resort to it rather than being in the stance you were currently.

However, your daughter's life was at stake, and this was the only way you knew how to save her.

You thought Astrid was going on a normal date; she had just met a boy not even a couple of blocks away from your old family home. His name was Jeongin, and he seemed like a typical neighborhood boy when you dropped your daughter off; he was sweet, shy, and homebody-ish. You had only just learned the truth because of your close friend; she came over to prep your family home for marketing following your father's death and unknowingly revealed the boy's true intentions.

The address in which you had dropped Astrid off, 125 Jefferson Street to be specific, had infamously become known as the "Murder House." The young son who had resided in the home two and a half decades prior had slaughtered his parents in cold blood and evaded police for hours on end in the treehouse constructed in his backyard. When the cops had finally caught up to him, he slipped in attempts to escape, falling on the hard ground several feet below and snapping his neck almost instantly. The young boy's name?

Jeongin. The same Jeongin in which your daughter was currently, "on a date," with.

He was, conclusively, a ghost, only being visible to you due to your spiritual mediation abilities. It all made sense now; why the street-goers and tricker-treaters had glanced at you and Astrid strangely when Astrid was dropped off, why Jeongin refused to let you come inside, and why he took a sudden keen interest in Astrid after only knowing her for three days.

Trouble was brewing.

Yet, Jeongin had failed to recollect that you had possessed your spiritual abilities for decades, which had initially allowed you to visualize the being you were attempting to summon. You remembered 1994's events all too well, from the moment you had discovered the ghostly couple in your attic, to meeting the demon that called himself, 'Beetlejuice,' although his real name was Han, who would proceed to give your family hell for the next several days, to the coercion he placed upon you to marry him if he helped you save the couple from an exorcism.

After the latter event had come to a halt after a situation involving a sandworm swallowing Han whole, you believed you were rid of the demonic soul; however, Han had been making himself more and more present in your life lately. You saw him everywhere, whether it was on the set of your reality ghost hunting show, outside of your house, even lurking around your father's gravesite. You did not want to summon him and tried to search the inner macamations of your mind for a way to help your daughter that did not involve him.

Yet, there was a part of you deep inside that knew Han would be the only reasonable solution to the problem at hand; hell, you could even go as far as to say the same part of you wanted Han to come back. Sure, he was batshit crazy, for lack of a better term, but you could not deny that he was the best looking demon you had ever laid your eyes upon. Perhaps it was that same part of you that felt bummed that the marriage between the two of you never truly consemated, and maybe it now thought that this could be the second chance for the both of you.

You pushed those thoughts aside, quickly refocusing on rescuing Astrid, the more important issue at stake. You took another deep breath, closing your eyes tightly before muttering three words that would once again change the course of your life.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

On cue, the replica of the small down began to crack straight down the middle; buildings and model objects fell in the split, never to be seen again. The star of the show slowly rose from the ground, illuminated by shades of turquoise and lime-green lighting. He looked exactly the same as he did thirty years ago, with longer, shaggy green hair that framed his pale white skin; his eyes were encircled by pure blackness, and what looked like patches of moss were ever so present on the sides of his sharp jawline. He still wore the black and white pinstriped suit that was loose around his thin waist. He naturally looked abnormal, creepy even; of course he did, he was dead! Yet, you thought he still looked abnormally handsome, even after all of these years. Your eyes widened in awe as he threw up his hands in a jazz-like motion.

"The Juice is loose!" Han screamed in excitement. He vanished from sight, only to reappear behind you and put his hands on your shoulders, slightly startling you.

"Hi, Doll," he smiled, his pale squirrel cheeks ever so prominent. "How ya been? It's been a long time. You haven't called, so what's up with-" you cut off Han's ramble by shoving a book titled, 'Handbook for the Recently Deceased,' in his face; you had recently acquired it from the "Murder House" during your futile first attempt at saving Astrid.

"I need you to tell me what this means!" you frantically commanded as Han snatched the book from your hands. He pulled a small magnifying glass from seemingly out of nowhere as he analyzed the line you were inherently motioning to with your pointer finger.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" he inquired, leaning closer to the book in order to read the section. He skimmed over the line before widening his eyes and grimacing. "To make a long story short, your daughter is screwed." Your eyes widened as he spoke, mouth slightly agaping in sorrow. "Yeah, looks like she decided to trade lives with the boy. He gets to come back, while she's stuck on the other side permanently. One-way ticket on the Soul Train." Han ended the explanation by tugging his arm downwards, as if he were pulling on a train whistle. You shook your head at him in disbelief.

"Soul train?" you repeated in a murmur.

"That's right," Han instantly responded. "Last stop: The Great Beyond!" 'The Great Beyond,' he was referring to essentially translated to eternity, that being either Heaven or Hell. Han looked at you before continuing to ramble. "Y'know, she really should have been our daughter. I would have been a great father if you had taken me up on my offer and-" You sighed in frustration.

"Han, that doesn't matter right now!" you snapped. "What does matter is the fact that Astrid can't get on that train!" You lunged forward, grasping the front of Han's shirt in a desperate attempt to plead for his help. "You've gotta get me in there so I can get her out!" Han gripped onto your wrists, slowly lowering them as he spoke.

"Well, I can get you in, but it's going to take a quid pro quo." You rolled your eyes at his response.

"Of course there is," you groaned. "What do you want?"

"Well," he began by scratching the nape of his neck. "I've got this ex-wife, and she's kind of a whack-job. First of all, we are THROUGH," he emphasized as if you would outrage at the fact of him having an unmentioned spouse; you did not feel anger, though. After all, the two of you were not ever married nor officially even together, yet you did feel a bit confused at the fact of Han previously being committed. "She's kind of clingy, and if I could just keep her away from me somehow-"

"You want me to marry you, I presume?" you moved your hands in a 'get-on-with-it' motion as Han tilted his head to the right a bit whilst raising his eyebrows.

"I thought you would never ask!" A smile swiftly plastered onto his face as he shuffled his feet like a child. "Finally realizing how things were supposed to be, aye?" he teased, managing to reignite the same fire in your heart from thirty years ago.

"Whatever," you dismissed his apparent flirting, trying your best to conceal a prying smile. "How do I know you're going to keep your word? That you aren't using me for your own gain?"

"Sweetheart," Han dragged out the word, sounding sarcastically offended. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"You aren't a person, you're a demon."

"Fair point," Han commented. "I swear on my dead mother's soul," he promised, moving his hands in a Catholic cross symbol. Suddenly, he burst into flames, which made you contemplate if it was a binding of his word or a sign that he was a flat out liar. Nevertheless, you agreed to his conditions, with part of it being out of concern for your daughter and the other part stemming from repressed feelings resurfacing.

"Okay, fine! I will marry you if you help save my daughter!" you felt a hint of fear, but also a sense of relief finally being able to solidify the marriage that failed to become so many years ago. Han smirked, unrolling a marriage contract that he had materialized, similar to how he had done the magnifying glass.

"I'm going to need that in writing." Han made a grab at your hand. "Give me that," he sing-song demanded as he pricked your pointer finger on an unusually sharp quill pen. You screeched in protest as he used the pen to forge your signature onto the contract, throwing it down as swiftly as he made it appear. He exhaled and cusped your cheeks, pouting adorably. "I am going to make you so happy!"

"Jesus!" you exclaimed, clutching onto your throbbing, injured finger. "What's the plan on getting in?" Han smirked, eyeing the wall behind you. You looked behind you, seeing where Han had now appeared drawing a chalk outline of an explosive on the grey brick wall; you still felt his hands caressing your cheeks, however, yet as soon as you turned back around, Han had vanished, his only form now being that of the one sketching the outline. You whipped your head back around and made your way over to Han's current position. You looked at him in everfound confusion, contrasting to dopey grin he had upon his face.

"Well, you can't exactly go in through the front door!" Han responded to your perplexation; he did not alot time for a response, instead lighting a spawned match and placing it near the chalked fuse. It lit instantaneously, as if it were a real explosive. As the spark neared the wall, you instinctively clutched to Han's forearm, eliciting a sly smirk from the taller. The wall detonated in a flash, allowing you to walk through to the other side.

Quite literally.

The first thing you were met with was a shroud of shrinkers gasping, eyeing you both with uncertainty.

"You never saw us," Han commanded the shrinkers, the demand sounding more like a factual statement. "¿Comprende?" You figured the reason for the command had something to do with the, "whackjob," ex-wife Han had mentioned. A short tap on Han's shoulder turned him around at the speed of light. "Bob!" He addressed the shrinker, who was notably disguised as Han himself. "You and the boys stand guard. Nobody gets through." Bob nodded as Han snapped his fingers, causing an entrance on the other side of the room to open up.

"Let's go, Honey," he growled to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the opening. The pet name sent sparks through your body, but you persisted onwards instead of acknowledging it. Before you knew it, you were venturing down twisted hallways, nearly falling down illusive corridors, and making one too many wrong turns at times.

Yet, you never let go of Han's hand during the entire journey.

It was not long before the afterlife police, as you decided to refer to them, had discovered that a living being had illegally crossed into the afterlife, prompting an automated voice to blare, " Warning: 6-9-9 Violation," multiple times over. Furthermore, you had lost count on how many times you and Han had to maneuver your way into tight corridors or plainly defy the laws pf physics to conceal yourselves. That is exactly how you ended up, quite literally, on the ceiling. You only dropped down once the crowd of cops had made their rounds, calling, "All clear!"

"We're like Bonnie and Clyde, you and I," Han remarked as he dusted off his suit and retook hold of your hand. "Without the bullet holes, of course." You nodded your head in agitation, feeling a bit irritated at the circumstance; after all, you still wanted your daughter back.

"Do you even know where we're going?" you motioned to the hallway in front of you, allowing for Han to take the lead once more.

"You go right down this hallway, take three rights, through the ninth door, and right to the Soul Train!" Han once again made the whistle-pulling movement before letting go of your hand; the only thing was he was going in the opposite direction of what he had just described.

"And where are you going?!" you interrobanged, crossing your arms towards the demon.

"I have to go to the little boy's room first," he replied casually, making your face scrunch up in grotesque. He could detect your nervousness, so he clasped a hand onto your shoulder. "We'll get Astrid back, don't worry. I promise on Bob's soul." This time, Han did not catch on fire, allowing you to conclude that the earlier circumstance had indeed been a lie. Yet, the honesty he now possessed ignited a passionate fire within your heart; you sensed the care he felt for Astrid, and it was just as strong as the amount in which you possessed.

You nodded in response, moving your hand to hold the one currently placed on your shoulder. You heard footsteps coming down the hallway, so you quickly scurried off in opposite directions assuming that it was the cops.

Little did you know how wrong you were...

---

Neon lights illuminated the air as you cascaded down a flight of stairs. There were multiple souls near the train tracks, dancing a never-ending choreographing, acting as if they were alive once more. Yet, past all of those energetic souls, you spotted a glum, frightened girl being hoisted to the Soul Train against her better judgement.

"ASTRID!" you screamed out, your callings drowned by the lively music that was blasting. You watched against your will as your daughter was thrown into the train, instantly becoming swallowed into a crowd of party-goers now making their respective ventures onto the locomotive. You rushed down the steps as fast as your legs would let you and pushed through the crowd of dancers filling the train.

"Astrid!" you called once again, only this time she heard your desperate cries and made her way towards you. You gripped onto her hand firmly and pulled her off of the Soul Train just in time as the doors closed and the train made its departure for The Great Beyond. You engulfed Astrid in a tight bear hug, holding onto her for dear life; the sweet moment was short-lived, however, as the afterlife police began to surround the area, slowly enclosing on you and Astrid.

You looked around, hoping to find some sort of escape as Astrid trembled in your arms. You pointed to a door with a red neon sign above it reading, "Emergency Exit." You and Astrid made your way to the door, Astrid holding up the skirt of her Halloween costume so that it would not slow her down.

"By the way," she began breathlessly. "I saw dad!" Your face lit up in delight; the scenario revolving around your ex-husband's departure to the afterlife had been shrouded in mystery. Years ago, he had went on an expedition in the Amazon River; several days afterwards, they could not find his body. You had tried to reach out to him several times, but you were never able to, and you never knew the reason as to why. Hearing that Astrid had seen him put all of your worries to rest.

However, you barely had time to react to her statement as you pushed the door open. Instead of your feet making their next steps out of the afterlife, they began freefalling and landed in a pile of sand. You looked around at your surroundings, and you found yourself in a desert-esque wasteland. The only objects in sight besides sand granules were weirdly shaped rock carvings.

"Where are we?" Astrid worriedly asked as she looked frantically at the sight.

"I don't know!" you replied with just as much worry, if not more. Suddenly, Astrid tapped your shoulder and pointed towards a nearby planet.

"Look! That's Saturn! So we must be on one of its moons!" she shook her head in disbelief. "I swear, the afterlife is so random!" You were not able to formulate a response before the sand arounds you began to shift; a puff of tan dust appeared suddenly, and you and Astrid found yourselves faced with a black and white striped monstronsity arising from the depths of the wasteland. It had beady red eyes that were glaring hungrily at you both.

"Sandworm!" you instantly remembered the creature, both from your multiple paranormal books and from the events that transpired so long ago. You grabbed Astrid's hand and ran at the speed of light across the deserted wasteland. The sandworm was about to catch up to you both when you heard a familiar voice:

"Take my hand!" Mirroring the statement, a hand dropped down and swiftly pulled Astrid up onto a ledge. The sandworm had began to rear its second ugly head as the hand reached back down to grab you; the mystery being pulled you up onto the surface as well, shutting the door harshly behind you three before the sandworm had a chance to strike. It was here in which you finally came into contact with the face that belonged to the limb:

Astrid's father.

He looked much different than you remembered, naturally. His skin was a seafoam green shade, most likely resulting from the waterlogging of his body. He had sores all over his body, exposing parts of his muscle from the forehead down. Finally, the most humorous feature, he had tiny blue pirhannas nibling on every sector of his body.

The three of you spoke for a long time over respective cups of coffee. He had complimented Astrid's Halloween costume; she was dressed as Marie Curie after she had been poisoned by radiation. Furthermore, he commented how he was always watching over you guys, although neither of you were able to visualize him. He ended the conversation with a hug before the automated voice sounded another warning about the 6-9-9 violation.

"We've got to get back to Winter River," you stated as your body lurched up, ready to take action.

"We can't leave until Astrid gets her life back," your widower replied, standing up from his chair. "Follow me." The three of you sped for quite sometime until you had reached the ticket booth. Here, you saw Jeongin, smirking deviously in your direction with a voucher in hand, no doubt a passport to venture back into the living world.

"Don't stamp that passport!" Astrid's father yelled out in desperation, but the operator at the ticket window had already done the unthinkable.

"You're too late," Jeongin smugly commented as he waited for his passport to be returned. Jeongin was right; time had ran out.

Or so you thought.

"I think it was Doestoevsky who said," a moderate voice began as the "operator" slid Jeongin back his passport. Jeongin's sly grin slowly faded as he read the stamp marking:

Shit Out of Luck.

The operator lifted his head up to reveal a pale, squirrel like face with messy green hair entracing the sides.

"Later, fucker!" Han's hand gripped onto a lever beside him as Jeongin glanced up at him with worry. Before he could protest, Han's hand had yanked the lever down, opening up a trap-door into a fiery inferno. Jeongin fell down into eternal torture, never to cause harm to anyone again.

"You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!" Han screamed into the entrance to Hell. You only caught a glimpse of his words, but they still fluttered your heart, nevertheless.

Before you knew it, Han was standing right beside you, Astrid, and Astrid's father.

"I've got it from here, big guy," Han winked at Astrid's father, causing him to mumble a quick, 'I love you,' to Astrid before speeding off.

"This way, follow me!" Han led the two of you back down the same twisting corridors you had traveled earlier in the venture until you reached a room with dark blue walls and a ladder in the dead center. "This is as far as I go for now," he commented, a look of regret replacing the one of smugness that was usually present

"Mom, is this-"

"Beetlejuice? The one and only, Honey!" Han interupted Astrid's inquiry, holding out a ghostly hand to shake. "But you can call me Han. Or dad if you'd prefer." You waved your hand across your neck in a, 'stop-talking,' motion, causing Han to clear his throat. "Well, carry on then!" He held steadily onto the ladder, helping Astrid climb up with you prepared to follow.

"I'll see you soon, Wifey," Han remarked as his hands snaked around your waist. You quickly embraced his hug, not caring how twisted it may have seemed. You held his words close to your heart as you let go, clutching onto the ladder as you exited the afterlife.

---

You climbed, and climbed, and climbed until your arms were sick of doing so. Eventually, you reached an opening which led to the Winter River Cemetary.

You were home at last.

Astrid turned around to face you, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Thank you for saving my life," her voice trembled as she expressed her gratitude. "I'm so sorry I never belived that you saw ghosts and...I don't know, I'm just sorry for all of it!"

There were only two situations you can say you ever felt your heart truly beat. The first was when you met Han for the first time; the second was this exact moment.

You and Astrid's relationship was subpar, at best. Ever since her father's passing, she had refused to interact with you, especially where the paranormal was concerned. Until tonight, Astrid thought the entire concept of spirits, witches, demons, and all things supernatural was a load of hullabaloo. She never wanted to claim you as her mother.

Until tonight that was, when you had earned her trust back.

You inched forward in preparation to give a response; however, your train of thought derailed when you heard someone calling your name repeatedly, insisting upon the fact that you were, 'late,' for something. You glanced over Astrid's shoulder and noticed that it was the town pastor calling your name. That is when it hit you:

"Oh my gosh, my wedding!" you yelled as you rushed towards the church building, Astrid trailing your feet close behind.

"Wait, mom, after everything that's happened tonight, you know you don't have to do this, right?" Astrid asked earnestly. Your mind flashed back to the events of tonight; the pet names Han had called you, how tightly he had held your hand, how he referred to you as, "the love of his afterlife." You knew by all means those were not the events Astrid was talking about by a long shot; however, they sunk the truth into her words.

"I know, but if I don't do it now, I'm never going to do it!"

"Are you really sure about this?" Astrid could sense the unsincerity in your tone. You let out an aggravated sigh.

You were not actually sure, that was the truth. I mean, who truly is sure about marrying a man they have been committed to for less than a year, let alone a man who proposed on the same day as your father's funeral?!

You answered, hesitance prominent in your voice, yet giving a response in attempts to convince both your daughter and yourself that this marriage was a good thing: "Hyun loves me, and that's got to be enough!"

Ah yes, Hyun. Short for Hyunjin. The tragic fiancé you had met at a widow's resort. He had told you his sob story of a tale, how his fiancé had perished in a skiing accident, and as you would have put it, the two of you just clicked.

You agreed to the marriage on his accord rather than your own, truly; you felt pressured by the crowd of people watching his proposal at your father's funeral and by his desperate pleas. You knew this was not what was in the tarot cards for you, yet you tried to claim that it was.

You had finally reached the entrance of the church when you ran into the aforementioned fellow. He lazily embraced you, your arms suddenly becoming doubtful to wrap around him in return.

"I thought you got cold feet," Hyunjin confessed as he removed his arms from around you.

"No, blame me," Astrid piped up. "She just saved me from my date from hell."

"Who are all of these people?" you failed to acknowledge either statement, instead taking notice of all the unfamilarity present within the crowd of attendees.

"Just a couple of influencers; nobody under five million followers, and I think we have a Netflix executive in there," Hyunjin smiled as he said this, but you could only groan in frustration.

You see, along with being your husband to be, Hyunjin was also your manager. He partnered alongside you for every media project you participated in, most specifically your new hit show, "Ghost House." Hyunjin loved the attention.

You did not. Hence, your disapproval of the wedding guests.

Your anxious thinking once again halted, this time as a result of Astrid snapping her fingers repeatedly.

"Are we doing this or what?" she asked impatiently.

"Right, yes, of course," Hyunjin agreed before eyeing you up and down. "Where is your dress?" You waved your hands slightly in dismissal.

"All that matters is that I am here now, so let's just skip straight to the vows," you did not make eye contact for a second as you spoke to him.

"Wait, where's Delia?" Astrid quieried about your step-mother. A flash of light and a rumble of thunder caused everyone to turn their attention to the front of the church pew.

"Yo!" a voice boomed across the audience, and you glanced forward to see the one and only. "She's right here," he responded to Astrid's question, pointed to the red-haired lady standing beside him.

One thing about Han: he was excellent at keeping his promises.

"She was helping me calm down before the wedding," Han continued. "I was feeling a little jittery." He chuckled arduously before pushing Delia aside.

"You!" Hyunjin thundered as he sped across the aisle. "You're that thing from my dream!" He was referring to an earlier occurance in which he had muttered the legendary three-word encantation and found himself in a dreamlike state encountering Han.

"Well, I'm really more nightmare material, but thanks!" You stifled a chuckle at Han's comeback.

"Whats up, Be-" Astrid attempted to call Han's real name; however, her voice was quickly stifled, accompanied by a tsking from Han.

"Part of the deal is you can never ever say my name, ever!" Han explained the reasoning behind the sudden silencing as Astrid rubbed her throat; Han held up the handbook for the dead from earlier.

"What deal?" Astrid asked in return.

"The deal she," Han pointed at you, "made to save you," he moved his pointer finger to Astrid. "That's why I said you can call me dad earlier."

"Y/n." Delia stated your name bluntly. "You agreed to marry him?!" Saying Delia was outraged was a complete understatement. She looked at you with horror present in your eyes, terrified as to how the next events would unfold. You began to stumble over your words.

"Well, uh. You see I did, but I was, um," you felt desperate prying at your words. Han looked at you with intrigued intent; both he and you knew the real reason why you had chosen to marry him, yet he also knew you were trying to find a way to hide your true intentions. The glares he was sending your way did not aid your cause; they were sultry, yet agitating, as if they were encouraging you to tell how you fell in love with a demon and that was why you were so quick to agree to a marriage in order to save your daughter.

"Y/n, what is really going on here?" Hyunjin interrogated, his annoyed gaze boring into yours. Your stare instead found Han's, your eyes pleading for his help.

"Wow!" Han exclaimed as he threw the handbook onto the altar. "Talk about awkward!" He had suddenly appeared behind Hyunjin, an arm slung around his shoulders and causing the crowd to gasp. "You haven't made much progress since our last session, so I'm going to go ahead and recommend some drug therapy." Han was once again referring to the "dream" Hyunjin had prior in the day. He pulled out a filled syringe labeled, 'truth serum,' and injected the liquid straight into Hyunjin's neck.

"Don't be afraid to share when you're ready!" he told Hyunjin with a cheeky grin on his face. Hyunjin's body betrayed him in this moment, shifting towards you with blown out eyes and quivering lips, as if he was trying to hold back from saying something. Han had appeared behind you now, the same smug arm snug around your shoulders.

"Let's see what your, "lover," truly thinks, shall we?" Han whispered against your neck. You and Astrid's expressions were contorted into confusion.

"I always thought your whole act was bullshit," Hyunjin suddenly confessed, causing your eyebrows to heighten and your lips to mouth, 'what?' "I never believed in ghosts, spirits, or any of it."

"What?" you inquired, extremely taken aback by his truthfull confession. "All this time? Why the hell did you want to get married then?"

"Money!" Hyunjin outbursted. "I knew I could make more money as your husband than as your manager!" He tried to cusp a hand over his mouth to keep the truth from overflowing but failed tremendously; meanwhile, your mouth was agape at the words he was spilling. "And I never had a dead fiancé. I just went to that survivor's retreat to try and pick up a girl," he winced at his last confession. You could feel nothing in your heart but anger and disgust; Han, on the other hand felt immense pleasure in seeing your realization of what an absolute scumbag your ex soon-to-be-wed was.

"How about a little physical therapy?" Han gently grasped your fist and lifted it up, taking the action straight out of your mind. Before a rational thought could cross your mind, you had knocked Hyunjin clean in the nose, the force of the impact catapulting him backwards. Han clapped forcefully and joyously at the incident, and you did something that shocked yourself; you smiled. For once in your life, you had stood up for yourself, and you took pride in that. In the midst of your self-glory, Han began to address the crowd.

"We'd like to thank you all for coming, but right now, we'd like a little privacy." He snapped his fingers, and the crowd subconsciously turned their phones around so the camera faced them. Their faces began to morph into grotesque shapes as they were pulled into their cellular cameras. In a flash, every unfamiliar face in the audience had vanished, leaving only you, Han, Astrid, Delia, Hyunjin, and the church's pastor. The latter of the six attempted to make his escape through the back entrance; however, his efforts were for nothing as Han was two steps in front of him, standing square in the middle of the doorframe.

"Where ya going, Padre?" Han asked rhetorically; he snapped his fingers once more, and the pastor appeared at the front of the altar, his Bible in hand. Han subsequently poofed on the left side in front of the pastor, reaching out a hand for you to join him on the right. An undead symphony began to play a surprisingly harmonious melody as the two of you linked arms. You looked up at him, slightly hesitant at the suddenness of the events at hand. The remaining few in the crowd began to sing along to the melody that was playing, notably doing so under hypnosis. Han took your hand in his and brought you closer to him, beginning to slow dance with you under the radiant light of the church's chandelier.

You would have been lying if you said there was not a part of you that did not like this experience. Sure, Han was a demon who had done questionable things and was downright psychotic at certain points. Yet, you could not stop thinking about what he had done and subsequently said earlier: "You don't mess with the daughter of the love of my afterlife!"

It made you realize: he truly cared about you. Unlike most demons, he had some semblance of a heart, even if he had a funny way of showing it. Not only this, but he cared about your daughter like she was his own, and that won your heart straight away.

The lights dimmed as you leaned into his embrace, beginning to slow-dance. He smiled as he looked down at you, wrapping a loose arm around your waist to hold you there and planting a small kiss on the top of your forehead.

"I knew you knew who you belonged with." Before you could respond, you were floating; you had found that ghosts tended to do that when they demonstrated affection. Although the experience was supernatural, you did not want it any other way. You stared deep into Han's eyes and he reciprocated. You contemplated leaning in for a kiss, knowing what that would mean for Han but the mere thought of it being more exhilerating than nerve-wracking.

That is why it was such a pain whenever the afterlife police crashed the wedding. They broke in through the windows, fell from the chandeliers, and some even came out of the spot where the symphony was playing. The music came to a halt, and the low lights came back up.

"Mr. Juice!" the lead of the afterlife police named Wolf Jackson boomed. "You have violated code 6-9-9!" Wolf did not get to finish, as Han took out a megaphone and shouted the word, 'Freeze,' causing the guards to do just that. You had hoped that was the last of the night's problems.

You found out that you were sorely mistaken.

The church doors flew open, and there stood a ghostly young woman; her skin was somehow paler than Han's. Her hair, eyes, nails, clothing, and shoes were all as black as ebony, and staples adorned what seemed to be a never-ending scar cascading down her body.

"BEETLEJUICE!" she thundered across the church pews, slowly making her way towards the demon. Han looked absolutely astounded in negativity.

"Sweetheart!" He grimaced as he spoke the pet name. "You look amazing!" From these four words alone, you came to the conclusion that this was Delores, Han's ex-wife that he had mentioned in passing. All of a sudden, Delores moved her hand in a swift motion, flinging you away from Han as she drew closer to him. He sputtered out multiple things about going through a lot of changes, how it was not her but him, and something about a mid-afterlife crisis.

"Your soul belongs to me, my love. For eternity," she did not take into account anything Han had said, only focused on sucking the remainder of his living soul out of him.

"You don't wanna spend your eternity with me!" Han retaliated nervously. "I'm not the one for you. You need a soulmate. Somebody who really sees you. For instance," he stepped out of the way, revealing an unfrozen Hyunjin. He snapped his fingers, changing the tuxedo top Hyunjin was wearing into a T-shirt stating, "I <3 Delores." This captivated her attention, more with confusion than arousal albeit.

You, on the other hand, were still splayed on the ground where Delores had played human ping pong with you. You glanced over to your right and saw Astrid drawing a symbol on the ground with Delia's lipstick. She knocked on it three times; you were not sure what it was until her knocks caused it to open like a trapdoor. It was a gateway to the same deserted area you and Astrid had been in earlier. Coming to a swift realization, the three of you moved out of the trapdoor's vicinity just in time to narrowly miss the large sandworm that erupted through the opening.

After an entanglement of Han leading the sandworm on where to go with a red cloth like a matador, the sandworm had swallowed both Delores and Hyunjin whole. Funnily enough, the pastor used this time to make his legitimate escape while Han was concerned with commanding the sandworm.

You sighed out of relief. 'This is the end of it,' you truly believed. Astrid and Deliah helped you up as you glanced at Han, mouthing a 'thank you' to him.

"No problem, my love," he replied, sadness slightly tinging his voice. "See you on the other side."

And as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

---

"I want to thank all of you ghosties out there for your support over all of these years." Thunder clapped as you spoke solumly into the camera. "This is my last show. I have spent so much time talking to the dead. It's time I start living and make memories with the people I love, rather than be haunted by them later." The tape stopped rolling automatically, and you let out a sigh of relief. You stood up from your filming chair, which was truly just the recliner in your attic, and walked over to the replica of Winter River. It was still split in half from a certain visitor; however, you felt there was no need in repairing it as you sat on your knees, especially not with what you were about to do.

You had been thinking a lot lately. You knew what your heart longed to do, and it was time to put that motion into effect. As such, you closed your eyes, took in a deep breath, and muttered the same name three times.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

Han did not make much of a scene as he appeared this time; he had been watching over you the last few days, and knew the intensity of a typical arrival would be too much.

"Well, well, well," he remarked slowly. You opened your eyes and saw the ghost directly in front of you, sitting in a similar position to your own. The sight of him made you smile with pure joy, and he could not help but return it. "I'm glad to see the second marriage has made you finally pick up the phone," he teased you and you let out a small giggle.

"I've been thinking," you muttered. "And as I think, my mind keeps wondering back to one particular moment when we were together last. You really pulled through for me and Astrid," you spoke kindly, truthfully, your heart picking up the pace with every word you spoke towards him. "I know you told the ex-wife that she needed a soulmate. Someone who understands her." You reached out to grab Han's cold, pale hand. "I know you weren't talking to me, but," you took a brief pause to contemplate your next words. "I think that's what you are to me."

Your words caused Han's mouth to go agape, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Are you saying..."

Instead of saying anything, you showed him. You cupped his snow-white chipmunk cheeks and brought his face to your own, capturing him in a daring kiss. It was full of passion, romanticism, and overall, love.

Everything you would expect a demon not to possess.

You only pulled away from the kiss when you heard the sound of Han's heart beating. You softly opened your eyes where an incredulous image awaited you:

Han's skin had darkened into a light, peachy color. The dark black rings around his eyes had vanquished, and the shaggy green hair he once possessed had now morphed into healthy brown locks. His eyes, for once, looked as if they contained life.

Because they did.

You knew kissing Han in addition to signing that marriage contract would bring him back to life; however, you had decided that was the life you wanted. Countless times, he had shown how he would pull through for you, how he would best his demon status and do anything you asked.

You were confident he was your purpose.

"Woah," Han glanced down at himself, astounded by the sight of himself alive once more. "You brought me back to life." He could not express his thoughts in mere words; therefore, he did so by engulfing you in the tightest hug known to mankind. Against his chest, you mumbled a sentence that made his beating heart pound:

"Han, you brought me back to life."

[amourdivine]

18+ PICK A CARD ꣹ WHAT ABOUT YOU TURNS THEM ON?

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PILE ONE

the world ✧ six of wands ✧ strength

This person is turned on by your success (lol), let me explain: they love it when you show off your accomplishments, the knowledge you've acquired, the wisdom you possess. If you speak more than one language, they get very turned on by that. This person really roots for you, they get all hot & heavy when you're in the spotlight, unafraid to state how gorgeous or handsome you are. They love it when you're feeling yourself (pun intended), when you know your worth and act like it. When you're confident and badass.

For some, the way you walk or talk has something about it that lures them in. I think your poise and how you handle your achievements, your career and academic pursuits has them not only feening for you, but also gawking in deep admiration. You have a star quality to you, maybe you're famous in your field or you aspire to be known in some type of way.

If you post pictures of yourself on vacations, specifically by the beach or some other sunny, beautiful place, they gets really turned on by that. They're a visual kind of person - if you regularly dress up or wear makeup, for example, it turns them on. I'm hearing "everything you do turns them on", they're your biggest fan, pile #1. This person is attracted to success - not in an opportunistic way, for most of you.

I also got that this person loves your height; if you're insecure about a specific body part, that's the part that they actually love the most, because it stands out about you. I feel a voyeuristic quality to this person, they love to watch you in moments you're caught up in your own duties.

channeled song: Papparazzi by Lady Gaga.

channeled messages: long limbs, legs for days, victoria's secret, "you're an angel", siren eyes, hooded lids, bedroom eyes, scorpio or taurus rising, capricorn, leo.

PILE TWO

knight of cups ✧ four of cups ✧ nine of pentacles

This pile has a similar feel to pile one, so if you feel drawn to it, feel free to check it out. However, pile two feels softer.. a little dreamier, almost. This person is turned on by how unbothered, independent you are. Chances are you built your success from zero and you're hell bent on being independent, whether in a relationship or not, you like relying on yourself.

I'm getting a specific fantasy here - they fantasize about being your savior, your knight in shining armor, swooping in and saving the day. They love helping you, but they know you don't need it. It conflicts them, but it turns them on, at the same time. All the messages here are heavily specific, like carrying you to the bedroom or being carried by you. There's something here about the bridal style. You probably look really good in white, lacy outfits or well- lingerie. If you don't wear lingerie, then this person wants to wear it for you.

Honestly, they love how unimpressed you are, but they want to woo you, to take you out, give you a proper date and then savor you all night. This person wants to be the only one that gets to impress you, to hold you and have you. I feel a bit of a possessive energy here as well, not malicious but definitely more dominant, which is likely to come out in the bedroom. If you're already with this person, they really love it when you let them perform acts of service or give you gifts to show you their love. They have a "provider" kind of feeling to them, probably a mommy or daddy kink as well.

channeled song: Good for You by Selena Gomez.

channeled messages: mine, sub/dom dynamics, "angel baby", "sunshine baby", service dom, wine & dine, jewelry, 30, 333, pluto dominant, scorpio, burgundy.

PILE THREE

three of wands ✧ page of cups ✧ king of swords

Chances are you're not with this person, but even if you are, they love the little mind games. You pique their interest, you make them want more and more everytime. It's something you effortlessly do - you're interesting and intellectually stimulating. Naturally, I have to mention this person loves it when you challenge or tease them, especially sexually. I feel like there's some distance between the two of you, maybe this is a long distance relationship and you haven't been intimate yet, but they loooove staring at your pictures. If you've sent them explicit messages or videos, they get all hot & heavy thinking about your voice or how you sound.

This person gets turned on by how vocal you are, in more than just one aspect. You're witty and bright, but you know when to be serious, when to use your words for the things that matter. They get turned on by how smart you are; they always learn a new word, a new concept or skill when they're with you. This person may like to "rile you up" or have small debates with you because it gets them in the mood (lol), it turns them on to see you not back down from an argument and win it everytime. Your voice, lips and mannerisms are really hot to them as well, if you regularly wear professional attire or attend very formal settings (like work in a corporate job or go to places that require uniforms), it really turns them on. They fantasize a lot about tearing these clothes and that serious demeanor off of you.

You may be cheeky as well and they catch glimpses of this more fun, lighthearted side of you. It also turns them on. There's an unpredictable quality to you that keeps them on their toes, which inevitably makes them very affected. I think your presence is more than enough to turn this person on, they love to observe you and watch how you move. If this is a coworker or a person you can't or haven't been intimate with for "taboo" reasons, they fantasize about breaking all the rules and abandoning all logic for you.

channeled song: Back for More by TXT ft. Anitta.

channeled messages: gemini, duality, vice and virtue, friends with benefits, "i can't have you the way that i want", "you're my weakness", casino nights, whiskey, drinking, "i can't stop thinking about you", "light up a joint", slow burn, hazy summer nights, partying.

PILE FOUR

the hierophant ✧ the moon ✧ four of cups (clarified by the star)

You're marriage material - and that's what turns this person on: your stability, how mysterious you are, unwilling to give yourself to anyone who isn't worthy of you. I think you're focused on your own healing, your journey and beliefs. You may be someone who simply marches to the beat of your own drum and you're not willing to sacrifice your ideals for the sake of maintaining a partner.

This "inflexibility" and the way you're unavailable to anything that doesn't meet your standards really turns this person on. It makes them want to step up for you and themselves too. This person loves it that you work for the long term goals, you're someone people trust and want by their side. Perhaps you're a teacher or someone who's seen as an authority, experienced and wise. There's a patience, a method to your madness, something only you know. You're very hardworking and practical, you cut through the BS to find the truth in situations.

You're not someone who entertains or pursues short term commitments or flings, for example. I think this person is turned on by your character, you probably have strong ethics and you're more traditional, there's a safety to you, a certainty. You're loyal and committed, it makes them want to devote themselves to you, to come home to you every night. This pile is more vanilla than the others; they like your depth, I think you're very classy and it turns them on.

They get turned on by your high standards, your beliefs and family values. This person knows you're reliable, they think you're the ultimate dream partner to anyone. You're rare and special - you know it. They get very affected by the thought of having you as their one and only.

channeled song: Focus on Me by Ariana Grande.

channeled messages: wife/husband/spouse material, mysticism, faith, religion, church, psalm 17:8, "tell me what's your motive", motivational speakers, slow dating, "remember what you deserve", divine counterpart.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[hjpslytherclaw]

Hello! 👋 Your Harry Potter fics are an absolute joy! It warms my heart to find another HJP lover out there! 👓⚡️💖 Hopefully if it’s no trouble, what do you think about a fic where the reader, whose in a relationship w/ Harry, has a dream or NDE (near-death experience) where she meets James and Lily and they’re so grateful for her loving Harry & being there for him? Keep up the great work! 👍

ah thank you so much!! and absolutely, I've been meaning to do one like this for awhile now <3

here is . . .

Beyond Our Hearts | Harry Potter

Harry Potter x fem! reader

Summary! In which during the battle of Hogwarts, Y/N L/N has a strange vision of her boyfriends parents while fighting for her life.

Warnings / Content! y/n on the verge of dying, mentions of death and passing, a worried harry but majorly fluff besides that.

It all happened so quickly.

From throwing as many spells as she possibly could at opposing death eaters to having the world go pitch black, Y/N L/N's life had flashed before her eyes like a bolt of lightning.

She had awoken in a room of nothing but pure light. Looking around the room seemed to shift, one moment nothing but white to the Gryffindor common room, the forest of Dean, the great hall during the Yule ball, it configured itself to places she had known too well.

And as vast as it had originally happened, it had become grimly clear to Y/N what was going on.

"I'm dead," Y/N's voice was a bare breath, as light as a feather but weighted with nothing but despair.

The second those words had escaped her lips her mind had only thought of one thing.

Harry.

How's Harry? Would he be joining me? Does he know? The thoughts were drowning her.

"I've died," She repeated. She felt her eyes begin to water. This couldn't be the end could it? She was barely eighteen this was supposed to be where life truly began, not where it ends.

"Not exactly."

The voice made Y/N jump, the room had changed once more at the action. Now it had set the scenery at an oddly familiar place. It took a moment but Y/N had realized where she had seen it before. It was the Potter's house.

And when she turned around to find the voice that had spoken to her, she was met with the two former occupants.

No way.

Y/N believed she must've gone mad.

She had only ever seen them in pictures and visualized them through Harry's descriptions but it was clear as day who they were.

James and Lily.

Harry's parents stood before her.

Y/N swore she felt her heart stop.

"This isn't death, not yet at least." Lily had spoken, her hand clasped around her husbands. "More so of a limbo, a place between life and death."

"I didn't think we'd be getting to meet so soon, Y/N." James had smiled.

Y/N's mouth had opened but no words had come out. Pure shock was all she had felt in the moment.

"I understand the shock, I've been told even in the afterlife i'm devilishly handsome." James grinned, which earned him a light hit on the shoulder from his wife.

Y/N laughed.

"It's alright to be shocked," Lily said soothingly, she had something so comforting about her that made Y/N feel safe. "Meeting the passed parents of your partner doesn't happen everyday."

"I- I just find this all so hard to believe," Y/N had gotten out through a dry throat.

"And that's perfectly fine." James consoled, "What isn't fine is us having to meet you so soon. I mean you're a lovely girl, Y/N, but you shouldn't be here."

"Wait so does that mean-"

"You can go back to the land of the living?" Lily finished, "Yes."

Y/N had let out a happy breath she hadn't known she was holding. She could go home. She could go back to Harry.

"But before you go back," James said, "There's a reason you're here, with us."

Y/N furrowed her brows, only to relax them moments later. It was strange to have them be the ones to find her in her almost death.

"As of right now Harry had given himself up to Voldemort-"

Y/N's happy heart had faltered. "What?! He's not, he can't-"

"He's alright, Y/N." Lily smiled, "He's alive and well, in fact looking for you. The battle is over."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. It was all over. Harry was safe.

"Though while giving himself up he was struck with the killing curse." James had told, "And in his last moment, his last thought, was you." James and Lily shared a smile, "We hadn't known at the time of you're arrival here but we both hoped that one day, when you got here, we'd meet you for that reason."

Y/N's mouth went slightly ajar. She was feeling too many things at one time to fully find one to express.

"We've seen you two over the years," Lily confessed to the L/N girl, catching her attention again. "All of the ups and downs, the good and the bad and you two have held together through it all. He cares for you in ways that astonish me. The love he holds for you is one that only the books seem to have."

"The way he looks at you is a way I thought only I could have, when I looked at Lily of course." James interjected for a moment, lightly squeezing Lily's hand.

"A look of pure and unconditional love." Lily smiled. "Harry deserves nothing but that. We never thought we'd be thanking you for giving him that this soon, but this was a chance we figured we'd take."

Lily had let go of James's hand and walked towards Y/N, Y/N had stayed still as she had approached her. Dead and yet so alive at the same time. It was wonderous.

"You have given him nothing but the love he deserves. You've cared for him and looked after him like no other, Y/N. We obviously haven't been around to do that and as much as that may always hurt, it's incredible to know that he has you." Lily expressed to her. "I can speak for both James and I when I say we're so, so grateful you've been there for our Harry. You've given him something so incredible, you've given him a reason to keep going and that's more than we ever could've asked for."

"The world was all we ever wanted for Harry," James spoke, "And though he may never get all of that, you've given him more of that than I thought was possible. I'm thankful he has you to lean on, you to love."

Y/N hadn't expected any of this, she hadn't expected to meet the parents of the boy she had loved so much, stand before them in a place between the living and the dead, but in the moment she couldn't find anywhere else she'd prefer to be besides with Harry himself.

"Now," Lily spoke again, sorrow in her tone. "Harry has just found your body in the living side of the world. And as much as I'd like to continue to thank you for all you've done for our boy, I don't want him to go through so much distress in finding you in this state."

Y/N felt a pang of sadness, she wanted to stay for a little longer, this was too short for her liking. But she belonged with the living, she belonged to live besides Harry and celebrate the end of the a lifelong war.

"Thank you," Y/N spoke, "For having such an amazing boy. Thank you for approving of me."

"Thank you for giving him what we couldn't." James grinned.

"I hope to continue this someday in the far, far future," Lily said softly, "Until then, continue giving our boy the love he deserves."

"I promise to never stop," Y/N assured them happily.

She was met with a joyous nod from James and an even brighter smile from Lily.

And then she awoke.

She was back at Hogwarts, her face covered in soot and dirt. Harry leaning over her.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, relieved, he seemed to have been doing cpr on her. He embraced her quickly, "I was so worried, oh my love, I'm so happy you're alright."

Y/N had still barely processed the interaction she just had but Harry's hug, his presence in general was enough to wash anything away.

"It's over," He confessed to her, "It's all over, darling."

She couldn't imagine a more blissful feeling. Harry Potter was her happiness, her calm after the storm, it didn't matter what happened next for the two of them.

She was going to keep her promise to Lily and keep loving him, with every star in the galaxy, with every fiber of her being, she knew she'd never stop.

And one day, someday, she'd get to tell them she lived up to it.

[maggstar]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐞

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when Y/N is moving to a new place, she asks for some help. To her luck, the handsome officer living nearby picks up her call to lend her a "hand".

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, sappy asf, cop!Hee, confession, kissing (tongue action yall know it), mutual touching, oral (f. and m.), 69.

𝐖𝐂: 3.2k

𝐀/𝐍: Hello my lovelies, I'm back (not for long). I have been promising a cop!Hee fic for so long that I've decided to feed yall with a prologue at least. Hope you like it!

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!! ───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

 Summer 2022

"Oh, come on now, we're not even halfway there!" the lilting tone emancipated from afar, shifting through the rooms of the empty apartment to place the piles of carton boxes in their assigned spot. 

They were all different sizes, some possessing parts of old furniture or newly bought ones, decorations, and daily-life equipment, carefully packed and branded. It seemed as if the amount kept growing with each placement, countlessly checking the truck.

Moving shouldn't have been such a demanding process, yet Heeseung found himself sighing every minute, constantly puffing after successfully delivering a package. The sweat on his forehead kept amassing, bringing his gaze to the flaming orange star. As if the hot weather wasn't enough, the lack of clouds deprived him of cooling down a little. 

He regretted dressing up for the occasion because he only wanted to rip the beige Hawaiian shirt off him. It went well with the iceberg-pleated shorts, but he would have been better without it. At least the brown aviator sunglasses were somewhat helpful, giving off the cool vibe he dearly lacked. It was all an attempt at impressing the female whom he decided to help, postponing everything on his calendar. 

With a dramatic sigh, he looked back at the mentioned one, hopping from one leg to another, hips swinging to the sides at each jump.

There was a dazzling smile glowing amidst those moves, radiating bright energy, swaying her head from left to right. The wavy hair created a breathtaking shot in that lavender-colored jumpsuit, soaked in its splashy floral pattern. It all added to the sweet image, complemented by a charming personality. 

Heeseung didn't know what about her turned his insides upside down. There were too many factors about that breathtaking beauty to pinpoint one. From her looks to her brains, she was a flawless 10 out of 10. A woman every man could only dream of. 

He was one of those men, dreaming about her every night after hitting bed. At this rate, it was turning into a habit. His head would automatically wander to her curvy shape once he shut his eyelids. Her long and slender shoulders were a sight to see, and he imagined running his fingers on them. Sometimes he visualized her powerful thighs, hungering to feel them in his hands. His ultimate wish was to reach her back and squeeze her buttocks as much as possible. He was a pervert for fantasizing about her in such inappropriate ways. However, he couldn't help it. 

She was incredibly attractive, and even if he tried to look away, his vision still ended on her. It was unavoidable. She was gorgeous.

"Lee Heeseung! Stop being a baby and help me!" the bundle of joy reprimanded, looking back with knitted eyebrows. 

Nothing appeared better right then, content with the outcome of her decisions. It almost made the volunteer forget about the awaiting unboxing. He could sense the exhaustion steadily approaching from the corner, taunting the weary with its impact. 

She crouched down to organize the pieces in the corner, not anticipating a figure approaching from behind. 

"Oh, you did not just say that," he called out, hands stretching to the sides of her torso, ignoring the loud no's as he came closer to the desired location. At that moment, the secret weapon was released. The victim fought for air, their laughter overconsuming it all, hands trying to stop the intolerable torture. 

"Yah! Stop!" they yelled, slapping the boy's arms, squirming in his imprisonment. The imbalance in the position caused them to fall over, bringing the perpetrator with them and landing on the floor together. 

Heeseung stopped once his eyes locked with hers, staring into those beaming green orbs, casting rays of bliss. 

It was as if he was looking at pure euphoria, smearing its gilt palms on him, like a warm blanket on a cold day, whispering sweet nonsenses. He couldn't cease admiring the view, the corner of his mouth lifting unknowingly. It was immaculate, its face round as an apple, light brown dots etched around its Grecian nose, forsaking their presence at the plump upper lip, overshadowing the bottom half, completing the perfection.

He hoped this moment could last forever, with her beside herself with joy, grinning and holding onto him, pledging its eternity. It didn't have to be authentic, just the thought calming his anxious soul, questioning the length of this point before disintegrating in his grasp. 

Yet, staring into her almond-shaped eyes reassured the worried. His fingers ran through her silky hair, body slightly freezing in surprise, gasping at the unexpected gesture. The change in her breathing didn't miss his sight, caressing her head overfilled in worries and pang, hoping to divest them.

If only he could sweep away all of the trouble from her system and hold her close eternally to provide the oughted warmth and comfort. He appealed to the universe to provide her with the needed healing. To replace the bandages and plasters on her crushed soul with long-lasting stitches and disallow the wounds from ever opening up again. 

The universe found it amusing that he kept asking for something already there from the beginning, fulfilling all his requests without his knowledge. It was as snug as a bug in a rug, watching over the little one and protecting her in its embrace. It was all there, slanting over her with doe eyes, creating temporary crow's feet.

"You won't go, right?" she asked, swallowing the sudden change of emotions, the numbness and fear heckling to emerge. The despair on her brows drew in, transmitting through as her jaw pulled in. 

He shook his head, soothing away the dread with a peck on the rosy cheek, "No. I'll stay with you."

"Promise?" she held onto his collar, pulling him closer till their foreheads kissed. Oh, how much she wanted their lips to be the ones who connected and chafed against each other, devouring one another in ardor. She was foolishly hoping for the upcoming redness to evaporate, not embarrass her in front of the mighty male she so broadly adored. 

Was it the bambi eyes blanketing her in love or the warm palm holding her petite hand that made the girl swoon? She couldn't ignore the effects of this fine man in front of her. Her true intentions have been bottled up for so long that they began opposing. They wanted to shout and express the overgrowing desire evolving into a blooming garden of affection. 

"Promise," was all she needed to hear to pull him closer and make her dream come true without hesitating. To her surprise, nor did he.

It was like they'd both waited for this spectacular moment to happen, not getting enough of it. Their hands roamed on each others' backs, attempting to draw in the other as much as possible. They practically crushed their noses while doing so, forgetting about breathing for the upcoming seconds. The only thing they could focus on was the bliss it provided.

The ravenous act of love was so passionate that it almost made the woman collapse, holding on to Heeseung's T-shirt. He was in his world, experiencing the most pleasing kissing. 

No previous connection could match the intensity and perfection of this moment. It was such an anticipated fantasy that he struggled to fathom her soft lips brushing against his. The way they collided with his was sensational, relinquishing every thought in his brain. 

There was only this tingly feeling leading from his chest in between his legs. He was all over the place, but so was Y/N.

In her 21 years of living, she had never been French kissed before, and this was the first time she allowed someone to try it. Despite her strong resentment against the act due to finding it unhygienic, she let the man she dreamed of having for so long play with her tongue. For once, she ignored picturing bacteria transmitting through saliva and wrapped her arms around his neck.

And Heeseung made sure she wouldn't regret it. 

As soon as he gained access, he tenderly slipped inside her mouth with his warm and wet tongue. He painted her walls in adore, cupping her cheeks to bring them in. That way, he could also pull her closer and deepen the kiss. 

They both found the sounds of wet smacks bouncing off the empty room stimulating, letting out a few whimpers. 

"Heeseung, I want you," she started sucking on his bottom lip, voicing her frustration by occasionally biting. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to bring him back from the dazed state she left him in.

"I want you too," his fingers lightly slid down her arms, sensing the change in her heartbeat. It continued grazing over lower, barely touching her skin.

The teasing threw her over the edge. She just wanted him to tear off her clothing and wander his veiny hands all over her chest. To squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples until she couldn't handle it. She wanted to become an utter mess underneath him. 

"Please, love me," She felt like an animal in heat, unable to think of anything else than the longing desire in her system. It repeatedly screamed his name in the most alluring way, gluing onto his mouth like it was the last time. 

The combination of his lustful gaze and comforting smile was an unbeatable experience. His eyes were the key to his soul, expressing love and appreciation with one beguiling look. 

"Can I?" he asked in her ear while playing with her earring, hooking onto the hems of the jumpsuit. 

"Yes, quick," she appealed, the urge intensifying each minute. Without having to ask, she began unbuttoning his cotton T-shirt, having a compulsion to rip it apart. 

His tongue was back trekking in her mouth, concealing her aching lips in the warmth of his saliva. Y/N couldn't properly focus on the cursed buttons when he delicately declared his delight in the kiss. It was impossible to do anything with him quietly moaning, stumbling over her consciousness.

"Fuck. Are all police officers this hot?" She exhaled at the mouthwatering view ahead. Her eyes rolled when her palms slid against his naked skin, the coldness causing them to flex. She knew about his exquisite physique before but never had the chance to see it up this close.

His muscles had always been visible through any piece of clothing, and Y/N found herself staring at every opportunity. Her hands couldn't stop touching his delicate skin, desperate to kiss and mark every spot. Just picturing him in purple love bites did wonders to her woman parts.

At this point, she was openly drooling over him. 

"You should look at yourself," He blushed at the compliment, pulling the piece of clothing off her. His leg pressed against her core right after, adding a log into the fireplace. She closed her mouth to conceal her needs, shutting her eyelids when his knee rubbed her clit. Was she too blatant with her thigh squeezing? Fuck. 

"You're fucking gorgeous," he leaned over, tracing her chest and torso with his nose. Seeing her in her undergarments and face scrunched in pleasure spurred his aching shaft even more. The addicting scent of shea butter absorbed every part of her, placing him under a spell with her features.

He placed delightful pecks on her stomach to ensure her comfort and safety, a feeling of happiness and contentment in his presence.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," his moans wiped down her thighs, licking and kissing everywhere. Her insides began burning, and she found herself desperately gripping his hair. The compliment he just dropped on her head blasted through her ears, flushing her cheeks in a rosy pigment. 

He had to have a lot of adorers in his past, and she didn't doubt it was the same in the present. His visuals were better than the models on magazines, a mixture of soft masculinity. Looking at him made her gasp consistently, habitually admiring his breathtaking assets. He was a work of art, and she couldn't stop admiring it.

"Heeseung," her breath lingered, staring at the savory growth behind his sweatpants. The outline, which appeared immensely luscious, provoked her intrusive thoughts to yearn for it. To lick and suck on it like candy until reaching a sugar crash. 

"Please let me put it in my mouth," the desperation transferred, sitting up to flip sides. He stared at her in shock from the floor with hands above his head, having hers wrapped around his wrists. Her sudden revelation caught him off guard, sensing his friend wholly waking up at the lewd confession. 

If it wasn't obvious how much he wanted her to have him her way, he wasn't sure about anything anymore. His heart was merely beating for her, picking up speed in pumping blood around his body. It was inevitable, particularly when she circled her tongue around his teats.

He would lie if he said he had experienced such a dirty act before, twitching and squirming from the kitten licks. He wasn't sure if it being his first time caused such a mercurial reaction or her being the one suckling on them.

Either way, Heeseung wasn't complaining one bit. He permitted her to play with them as she desired. 

"You're all I've ever dreamt of," her breath skimmed lower and lower until it recoiled up on his crotch. Both sighed at the highly-awaited instant as if they had been waiting for it to happen forever.

Y/N took in the paradise and rested her face on it, massaging her cheek against it. She was roaming in a daze, omitting everything around and focusing on the growing element beside her. 

All these lascivious acts made Heeseung think Y/N was an expert, not having a second to figure out his methods. They were thrown out the window the moment she pulled down his shorts and Calvin Klein boxers in one go, uncovering his nudity all to herself. He goggled at her from the uncatchable pace, leaning against his elbows for balance. 

"God, Hee," she wrapped her hand around the leaking material, leisurely smearing the pre-cum on the head. 

"Y/N," he hissed, watching his thick cock twitch in her small hand, throwing his head back. Once her thumb circled his tip, his testicles drove in. They uncontrollably pulsated with each hoop, losing control over their equipoise.

Her sparkly orbs, gazing at him from below while gingerly kissing the base, pushed the filthiest groans out of him. He could cum from her lips polishing his member, the delicate touch reminding him of a feather. 

"No more teasing, please," his hips raised, pressing his thick cock against her rosy cheek. He couldn't hold his desire any longer, practically begging her to suck him dry. 

"Oh? So what do you want me to do then?" her lips entangled around his tip, turning into a feisty smirk.

"Put your tongue on it," he pleaded, his knees turning numb from the ecstasy. 

"Like this?" her eyes looked up at him between his legs, sticking out her tongue to draw perfect lines across his treasure. For an answer, she received a loud groan alongside a light thump into the ground. She was playing a dangerous game, but it was too amusing to miss. 

"Look at how your cock twitches when I do this," she snickered, licking him from the top to all the way down to his balls. They were also in need of attention, and Y/N didn't forget to engage them in her playtime. 

"Or barely lick your head," she demonstrated the act, causing Heeseung to shiver in her grasp. 

"It makes me wonder how it'll react if I decide to put it in my mouth," her last word got nearly swallowed as she answered her question, leaving Heeseung in utter disarray. His brain resigned, incapable of handling the sheer amount of pleasure. If it stayed any longer, it would go insane. 

"It's so soft," she furrowed her eyebrows upwards, her hands coming back to wander on his buttery skin.��

"So tasty."

"So beautiful."

"So perfect."

It hit the back of her throat, face entirely buried into his crotch, satisfied blusters opposing as a reaction. She found it adorable how he desperately held onto her hair, trying to shove himself even deeper. It was so incredible that he struggled to contain his growing lust, prompting him to unravel his aggression. 

He wanted to grab her silky hair into a ponytail and mercilessly guide his dick deep down her throat. To watch the lump in it growing and disappearing with each pulse while her eyes looked straight into his.

He couldn't hold it anymore. 

He had to taste her.

"Turn around and sit on my face," he conveyed, seductively running his tongue over his lips. 

"What?" the shyness transferred to the opposite side, goggling at the depicted request. 

"Come on, don't be shy and sit on my face, princess." 

Y/N hesitantly looked at the stripped man, who was calmly lying with his arms behind his head, lustfully eyeing her up. 

"Ride it until you come down my throat," the nasty invite slipped out his mouth carelessly, putting on a smirk to secure its impact. 

"You know I'll lick it all up."

The woman's jaw dropped at the proposition, heavily floundering with her senses. Her interiors thawed at his sensual words, screaming at her to turn around and do as he demanded. 

"I don't want you to suffocate, dumbass," she lightly punched his arm, trying to dissipate the butterflies piling in her stomach. She didn't want to seem like a nuisance with her subtle shots at the getaway. However, her confidence wasn't the biggest one out there. 

Being on top wasn't the issue, but being that exposed to Heeseung. She always found it uncomfortable to have guys looking at all of her. Relaxing in someone else's arms was a problematic obstacle.

Heeseung wasn't an ignorant person not to notice the modest hints, settling to act rather than unroll the tangle of unnecessary insecurities. 

With that determination, he lifted her and placed her on his face without warning to get her raw reaction. 

At the same time, he found it foolish to waste a minute arguing. 

Instead, he could use it to eat her out and show her immortal magnificence.

"You have no idea how good you look from here," both ended up facing each other's genitals, admiring the glorious piece of art. She stared at him covered in her saliva mixed with precum, its size managing to develop more with each touch. 

Heeseung was playfully running his finger around her slick hole. The amount she had produced was more than he could imagine, the sticky material creating squelching sounds. His index traveled upwards, smearing the juices on her swollen clit.

"I could just play with you all day without ever getting bored," his finger disappeared inside her, unweaving a beautiful whimper. 

"Just run my finger up and down your pussy until you can't handle it," he smoothly pushed another in, her fluids substituting lube. 

"So warm and tight. All just for me," his nose hit her clit, soaking up her scent in an instant. 

"Heeseung," she sighed, holding onto his legs for support. 

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you more, Hee."

...to be continued...

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Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^

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@maggstar

[arc-misadventures]

Jaune FMK: Ren, Sun, and Neptune. No! Not the dudes! The R63 versions! Cardin gets the dudes version.

God dammit… I have a brilliant, idea for this one, now I have to do it…

Context before we begin! Jaune is in his, Atlas design, and the, Fall never happened.

Let’s begin!

Jaune: MFK VIII

Jaune was sitting at a bench near the back of, Beacon Academy reading a book before a voice pried him away from his reading.

: Hey, Jaune. Mind if I join you?

Jaune looked up to stare into the sift pink eyes of his teammate Lie Rin. He smiled as he took in her beauty, her long flowing raven black hair, and her oriental dress. He nodded to his head as he gestured to the open space on the bench.

Jaune: By all means.

Rin: Thank you, Jaune.

Jaune had expected, Rin to take the seat across from him so he was surprised when she took the seat besides him, even more so when he registered how close she was next to him.

Jaune: Uhh… You need something, Rin?

Rin: Well, we just wanted to ask you something.

Jaune: We? Who’s we?

: She means us, handsome~!

Jaune looked over to see two ladies walking over towards him. He saw a girl with cyan hair stylized in a punk cut, with long bangs draped across her face. She wore a red shirt, overtop a white dress shirt that struggled to contain her sizeable bust with it. All the while she shot him a cocky smirk as she drew near.

Walking besides her, he saw a girl with a short, and wild haircut, she wore a loose dress shirt that proudly displayed her well defined abs, a result of her drive to perfect her body. With nothing, but a grey sports bra to hide her sizeable chest.

This appeared the leader of, Team SSSN, and her teammate, Sun Wukong, and Neptunia Vasilias.

Jaune: Hello ladies, you need something?

Nep: Yeah, we wanted to ask you something.

Jaune: Oh, and what is that?

Sun: Between the three of us, who would you, MFK?

Jaune stared at the pair dumbstruck as the pair sat down across of him, each of them shooting the befuddled knight a coy, and teasing smile.

Jaune: Uhh… W-Why are you asking me this?

Nep: Oh, just curious is all.

Sun: Yeah, just curious.

Jaune stared at the pair with a quirked eyebrow, visually displaying towards the pair how much he doubted the validity of there words. He turned to address his teammate hoping to gain a real answer from her.

Jaune: Are they serious?

Rin: Yes, yes they are.

Jaune: Okay… But, why are you doing this, Rin. I mean, I expect these two to want to know something like that, but you, Rin. That don’t add up.

Rin: I’m just curious what a man sees in a girl like me, like would he actually be interested in dating me?

Jaune felt as if he had fallen into a trap, that he had fallen into the midst of field filled to the brim with landmines, and that any wrong step he took he would set one off. He needed a defusal kit to deactivate these mines lest he go up with the mines. And, he was dealing with a minefield laid out by a trio of woman asking some very pointe questions.

Stepping on the landmine would be the least of his worries.

Jaune: O-Okay… Let me think… Mmm… Marry, Rin, fuck, Sun, and, kill, Nep. Or… kill, Sun and, fuck, Nep. Your interchangeable in this situation really. There, happy?

Neptunia, and Sun, stared at him with their mouths hung wide, at the shear blunt, and casualness he said that. While, Rin turned away with her hands over her face as a fierce blush spread across her face. Jaune just stared at the duo before he helplessly said:

Jaune: What?

Nep: You just said it?!

Jaune: Yeah, because you asked me to.

Sun: No, what she means is you basically spent no time thinking about it, you just said it. You didn’t even need to think about it?!

Jaune: No, I thought about it, there just wasn’t that much to think about.

Sun: Okay then, what did you think about that decided these pairings.

Nep: And, why are we interchangeable in the fuck, kill department?!

Jaune: Well, that’s easy; You’re, Miranda, Sun is, Liara, and Rin is, Tali.

The trio of girls stared at him like he was mad, mad that he based his decision after three characters from a video game that you could romance. Or, that he thought they fitted these three characters.

Nep: Okay, where the hell do you get the idea that we’re those three girls?!

Sun: Yeah! And, why am I, Liara?

Rin: I’m a little curious as well.

Jaune: Well, since this is such a simple thing, I thought of you as who I would romance in the game, and well you three fit those roles best. Mostly

Sun: And, we are that way because?

Jaune: Well… honestly, Sun the other girls don’t really fit you. Liara was the only other character I could tie you to since those three were the only girls I really romanced in the game. Blake could possibly fit her character better. Unless you have mother issues you haven’t told anyone about.

Sun: Is that it?

Jaune: Well, you are sexier than her, so we can’t use that.

Sun: I’m sexier than her~? And, why is that?

Jaune: Abs. You have abs for days little lady.

Sun pulled open her shirt, allowing, Jaune to see a clean view of, Suns tantalizing abs on full display. His eyes trailed her hand as it traveled down her body showing off every rise, and fall across chiseled abs.

Jaune would die before he’d admit he drooled just a bit. He was already dealing with hell from, Nora when he caught her drooling in desire at, Pyrrha’s well defined chiseled body.

Nep: And, why am I, Miranda? She’s an absolute bitch!

Jaune: Aye, but you are as hot as her.

Nep: Oh am I now~?

Jaune: You’re dressed in tight clothing that shows off your body just like she does. You have enticing eyes, and a cocky smile just like her. And, Miranda is best known for two things; A bitch, and that scene in the engine room. And, well…

Nep: You’ve fantasied about me doing just that haven’t you? Me pushing you down, sitting on your waist, pulling down my coat, and revealing the lacy bra I’m wearing as you take me there on the spot.

Jaune looked away nervously, he didn’t want to answer her, unfortunately him looking away from her with a faint blush across his face was answer enough.

The duos soft laughter was something he could do without.

Nep: Oh, you naughty boy~! If your up for it I’m all too willing to make your dream a reality~!

Jaune: N-Noted…

Jaune brushed away the growing blush across his face from the girls rather suggestive teasing. But, he was pulled back into it as he felt a soft tugging on his sleeve. He looked down to see, Rin looking away from him, hiding the faint blush across her face as she simply asked him her question.

Rin: J-Jaune… Why would you marry…?! W-Why am I, Tali?!

Jaune decided to spare, Rin any further embarrassment, but he made a mental note to address what she actually wanted to know. He wasn’t as dense as he was before, he could catch on to the hidden details now. At least he hoped he could.

Jaune: W-Well… Tali is my favourite character to romance. She’s one of the few characters that stands by your side throughout the series. She may leave your side every now, and then, but she does it to help her people. And, they’ve written her in such a way that you can’t help, but want to help her, and her people. She kind, cute, and endearing, when she loses her father you can’t help but give her a comforting hug to reassure her. How she reacts, being all flustered when you start flirting with her is so endearing I can’t help, but fall for her. Except for her singing that’s… that’s cringe.

Sun: It is cringe, but Tali’s no where near as sexy as, Liara is.

Nep: Or, Miranda for that matter.

Jaune: True, but I prefer her personality more so than her looks. Beauty fades in time, personality overcomes death. Not to mention her goodbye line at the evac is the best there is, hands down!

Sun: Pff! And, what makes you say that?

Jaune: Everyone else’s goodbyes are mostly, ‘I love you,’ said in some colourful way. But, Tali’s is unique, she’s pleading with you not to go, she knows she can’t stop you, you are her home, and she doesn’t want to lose you. Talk about pulling at the heart strings, I love that scene!

Nep: But, what about…?

Rin: J-Jaune…!

The trio were about to argue more, but stopped when a flustered, Rin dragged away, Jaune’s attention to her as she nervously tugged on his sleeve again.

Jaune: What is it, Rin?

Rin: “I-I have a home…”

Jaune: …?!

Rin: “Come back to me…”

A million thoughts were running like lightning through his mind that, Jaune thought his mind was going to short circuit. Was, Rin just just saying that to tease him? But, she sounded so sincere as she said it. What does she mean when she said this? Does she see, Jaune like family? His mother loves her her like another daughter, and she in turn sees her like the mother she lost. And, he see her as another one of his sisters… Wait, no, no he didn’t see her as that. Jaune’s not really sure how he sees, Rin; as a friend yes, but does she see him as potentially more than just friends, and if so, does he want them to become more than just friends?

His mind was so clogged with conflicting, and competing emotions, he didn’t break away from staring into, Rin’s beautiful pink eyes until he heard, Sun, and Neptunia’s snickering that caused his already deep blush to grow even more.

Jaune: O-Okay, there I said it! Happy now?!

Nep: Mostly, I wanna know who you see as the other romance able characters are?

Sun: Yeah! Why couldn’t I be, Samara instead of, Liara?

Nep: Yeah, why couldn’t I be, Samara?

Jaune: The pair of you may be stacked, but even, Yang’s impressive bosom wouldn’t qualify her as, Samara if you’re taking just appearances into account. You gotta add her personality into the equation.

Sun: Then who would be, Samara? Certainly not…?!

Jaune: Glynda.

SN: …

Sun: Shit, you can’t argue against that.

Nep: I wouldn’t mind her stepping on me… B-But what about, Ashely; Who best fits her?

Jaune: Considering, Ashely’s history, her familial problems, the desire to prover herself, and her xenophobia. Weiss.

Nep: That fits

Sun: She was a bit racist towards faunas when we first met. I understand why, but nonetheless.

Rin: But, at least she fixed her racist views.

Sun: True.

Nep: Since we already got the opinion of one of your team members, what about, Nora, who would she be?

JR: Nora.

Sun: Eh?

Rin: Nora will never be someone else, she will always be, Nora.

Jaune: But, if you must know she’d at least be a Krogan.

SN: …

Sun: That fits. She certainly hits like one.

Nep: My ass still hurts from that time she punted me with her hammer.

Sun: Maybe you could give her a massage, Jaune?

Jaune just stared down, Sun with a blank gaze that simply screamed: ‘Really?’ Rin quickly spoke up hoping to break the growing tension before it became too overbearing.

Rin: W-What about, Pyrrha? What would she be?

Jaune: Pyrrha? She’d be Fem-Shep hands down.

Nep: And, suddenly, Pyrrha became even hotter than she already is…

Sun: Not really hard for her to.

Rin: Does that mean your her, Garrus to her female, Shepard?

Jaune: I’m not cool enough to be, Garrus.

Nep: I would have agreed with you when we first met, but you’ve grown a lot since then.

Sun: And, you can be a surprisingly good smooth talker when you want to.

Rin: And, you looked good, damn good when we all went to the shooting range together…

Jaune: O-Oh… T-Thank you.

Sun: Wait, you forgot, Jack. Did you romance her?

Jaune: No, I find, Jack’s personality, and appearance unappealing to me. I don’t like the bad mouth kind of girl.

Nep: Everyone has their preferences, but who would, Jack be?

Jaune: Bleiss.

Sun: Oh that fi…?!

Bleiss: WHY THE FUCK AM I THAT UPTIGHT BITCH?!!

Jaune: What the hell?!!

[lady-harrowhark]

hello, can you explain to me in more clarity your “waxen” theory regarding Ianthe? I’m not picking up on what this implies but it’s making my brain itch.

Sort of! Totally fair question, I just don't have a lot of clarity myself in that I don't have a fully formed theory lol. There's definitely some links and parallels in verbiage that are pinging on my radar, so I do think something's funky, but I wouldn't say I'm fully on board with this yet. I'm just playing in the sandbox Tamsyn has provided us, tossing out ideas and thinking out loud. But I can go into some more detail, and add some more thoughts that have occurred to me since I posted that last night.

(Here's a link to the post in question, for context)

Anyway! So let's first lay out all the times we get someone described as some type of wax. At various points in HtN, we get the descriptions "a shoddy wax cast of some more beautiful sculpture," a "wax figure in a pink dolly dress," a "wax figure in pale purple chiffon," and "waxen face" for Ianthe. We also see that descriptor used a few other times for other people throughout the series. In GtN, Harrow's parents' bodies are called "waxy" and the first introduction of Protesilaus (as the beguiling corpse) says he was "waxen looking in the sunlight." In NtN, Kiriona's skin is said to have a "weird, waxy quality," then Naberius's skin is called "waxen" when they first meet up with Ianthe, and again a few pages later it again references the "waxen, handsome face". What I'm getting at here is that every time this sort of description is deployed, it's in reference to a dead body that's been preserved, manipulated, and is essentially masquerading as a living person... except for Ianthe.

We also know there are a multitude of times that she's described as looking like a poor copy of Coronabeth. There's that "shoddy wax cast of some more beautiful sculpture" line, her first introduction calls her a "starved shadow" of her sister ("or the first an illuminated reflection [of Ianthe]," and actually, off the top of my head I don't know that we ever see their descriptions framed that way again... I'd have to investigate this more later, but this might be the only time that Corona is described as a "better" version of Ianthe, rather than Ianthe being a "worse" version of Corona, which is interesting), there's a point where it says "The second twin was as though the first had been taken to pieces and put back together without any genius. She wore a robe of the same cloth and colour, but on her it was a beautiful shroud on a mummy," etc etc etc. I know there's more, but I'm too lazy to go pull the rest of the quotes and you get the picture by this point I'm sure. So nearly all of these situate her, at least visually, as a copy or approximation of Coronabeth, and one that doesn't quite live up to original at that.

So now let's pick apart this snippet of conversation we overhear between Silas and Ianthe at Magnus and Abigail's dinner party a bit. Ianthe says she was born via "surgical means," which I'm assuming is referring to a C-section delivery (or whatever the necromantic equivalent is) and notes that Corona is a few minutes older. Silas seems surprised (or perhaps concerned?) that they "risked intervention" and Ianthe says Corona had "removed [her] source of oxygen". At this point Silas says, "A wasted opportunity, I'd think." I had always taken this for him just being a dick and implying he wished she'd died in the womb, but coming back to it with this new angle... well. She says "Corona's birth put my survivability somewhere around definite nil." And I'm wondering if that doesn't tie to Harrow's comment about infant deaths generating "enough thanergy to take out the entire planet." Basically, could Silas have been implying that the Tridentarii's parents wasted an opportunity to use the thanergy from baby Ianthe's death to power up Corona?

Harrow says that twins are an ill omen, but the text hasn't come back to that as of yet. Given the difficulty necromancers experience with pregnancy, I'd imagine twins would could be especially dangerous and that in and of itself could be considered an ill omen. Ianthe's comments certainly suggest that their mother carried the pregnancy, although I don't think we know for certain whether she was a necromancer. I am so intensely curious about the Tridentarii's childhood and their parents; we get so many gestures towards some really twisted family dynamics, but very little in the way of concrete explanations. Particularly relevant here, I'd love to know more about their father wanting a "matched set" and how that came about. Did they intentionally plan for twins from the start? Was it only once they knew they were having twins that that became a factor? What's the significance there?

Outside of those "waxy" descriptors, Ianthe tends to be described as much more sickly looking than even other necromancers. We know that necromancers on the whole tend towards a phenotype of physical weakness, but even still, there's an emphasis on this with Ianthe beyond that. This might be due in part to narrator bias (coughGideoncough) or the direct juxtaposition between her and Coronabeth's vivaciousness, but what really jumps out at me as contributing to this effect is how frequently she's described as being colorless, pale, washed out, bloodless, pallid, anemic, etc etc etc. It very much makes me think of the way the color drains away from Colum (and even the rest of the room and the others in it) when Silas is siphoning. Silas himself is also often described as colorless ("mayonnaise uncle," "milk man") but not so much in a way that implies frailty as much as I read it as implying a stark coldness, in line with the very black-and-white moral authority he presumes to wield, a purported "purity", much different than Ianthe's colorlessness. With Ianthe, you get a sense that her palette ought to have been or perhaps was closer to Corona's, but the color's been drained away; where Corona's hair is described as golden, Ianthe's is "canned butter", for example. Almost like the life's been siphoned out, one might say.

So to kind of circle back around, do I actually think Ianthe is dead or a corpse like the other "wax" figures we've seen? Nah. Between Harrow and Palamedes, and especially Palamedes's medical necromancy, I think we would have heard about it by now if that were the case. But I do think it's entirely plausible that she's had a bit of a brush with death and that perhaps she's never quite fully come back from, and I do think she's being intentionally positioned as somewhat adjacent to death. If their parents were wanting twins from the outset, perhaps they used necromantic means to encourage the conception. Or if the pregnancy was as high-risk as I suspect it was, perhaps she'd died or nearly died at birth and been resuscitated. Their parents may have gone to extremes to keep her alive, to maintain their matched set. Given the themes of this series, I do feel it's necessary to draw a distinction between "resuscitation" and "resurrection" although they are curiously adjacent to one another. For all the text has grappled with dying and staying dead, dying and coming back, dying and choosing whether or not to return... we haven't touched on what something like a "near death experience" would look like. I'd imagine having that sort of experience, even at an incredibly young age, might lead one to be fascinated with, to use Ianthe's own words, "the place between death and life... the place between release and disappearance."

[sanjifucker42069]

Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Part Two

Word Count: 1.4k

Part 1

A belated and awkward part 2. I’ll start writing part 3 in the morning (it’s like 1am lmao)

For those who need a visual aid, here. (oof feels like wattpad or quotev but girlypops i am cringe but i am free. it isnt a perfect representation, but its pretty accurate. titilating, no? ;) )

Warnings: Lingerie lmao…this is pretty short, and is just a set-up for part 3. A lot of this is my own feelings surrounding cis men in lingerie. As with part 1 gender neutral reader. Yeah! Hope you enjoy!

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Sanji couldn't stop thinking about it. You thought he'd look hot in lingerie? You thought he looked slutty?

It had overtaken every waking moment. Any time he wasn't focused on a task all he could see was the dumb stare you gave him, eyes focused on his thighs.

He'd love to wear lingerie for you if it meant you'd stare at him like that.

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

The Going Merry was docked, the Straw Hats carrying out their duties, and Sanji had a plan.

"I'm gonna go shopping. You coming (Name)? Sanji can carry our bags." Nami preened, looking absolutely glowing at the prospect of new clothes. Sanji bit his lip. He wanted to go with Nami and you, really he did, but if either of you caught on he'd die of embarrassment.

"You okay, Ji?"

Huh?

You were asking something.

"What? Oh, yeah, love. I'm fine. I'm afraid I have business to attend to on the island."

You blinked at him before smiling that dazzling smile up at him. He was smitten, his fortitude nearly wavering. "Of course. You do what you gotta do!"

Business his ass. Instead he hurried to check out the town.

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

A small, seedy shop tucked away in an alley. Sanji entered the store warily. A small, old woman trotted out from the back. Sanji blanched. He didn't want to discuss this with a grandma! 

"Hello young man, here for something for your wife?"

Sanji felt himself flush. He tried to wander around the store. "No, no-"

"Your girlfriend then?" 

Ah. This grandmother didn't know when to quit.

"Not exactly?"

The old lady grabbed his arm. Sanji raised a brow, turning back to her. She was grinning at him, eyes narrowed and sparkling with something he couldn't place.

"Is it for you? Such a handsome young man as yourself." 

What? Sanji's face was on fire. He was flustered beyond belief. His hands were lightly shaking, eyes darting around for anyone else in the store.

"Come with me darling. My name's Bea." The old lady chimed, dragging Sanji with her. "What colour were you thinking?"

"Oh, um." Sanji was panicking, voice high. Did she even have lingerie for men? "Blue?" 

Bea hummed. "I do have blue, but I have a lovely pink set that would just make your skin pop."

Pink? Sanji didn't think it was possible to flush darker, and yet here he was. "I, uh, would it even fit me?"

"Of course sonny! You're quite slim." Bea swatted at his arm, patting his biceps for good measure as she led him through the store. "So, tell me about the lucky one."

"They're beautiful." Sanji began dreamily. Where should he even start? "The most gorgeous creature I've ever laid my eyes on. They have this laugh that just brightens up any room, and such a sense of humour. I’ve been smitten with them since I met them.”

“You two aren’t together?”

Sanji shook his head sadly. “No, no. We’re just good friends. They, uh… Do you know what shirt stays are?”

Bea laughed, patting the cook on the arm. “Say no more.”

She let go of him when they reached the back of the store. Sanji watched nervously as she carded through a rack of, well, did it really constitute clothing? Skimpy piece after skimpy piece were revealed.

And then he saw it.

It was a gorgeous baby pink. Bea ahhed as she removed it from the rack, holding it up to inspect it. She turned to face him, sizing him up next to the set. Sanji felt his throat go dry as he really took it in.

The set was a simple baby pink bralette, made from some kind of sheer lacy material with a flower motif. The plunging neckline was created to draw attention to the cleavage, and it was adorned with some delicate string of pearl-like decoration to highlight the collarbones. The panties were the same sheer material, clear that they weren’t to hide much. The sides of it were accentuated with cute ruffles that further added a feminine touch. Sanji felt lightheaded. 

Finally, it was a beautiful pastel garter belt that sat in the middle, completing the look. It too was made from the same stretchy, sheer lace. It would wrap around the waist, strategic cutouts to accentuate the waist, hips, and the bellybutton. The central cutout had a simple chain of pearls to add interest and movement. Four satin-looking ribbons led from bottom front and back, with clips attached to hold up stockings.

Oh, maybe his shirt stays were kinda…

Nonetheless, it was breathtaking. Sanji had clearly marvelled at it for too long, as Bea chuckled, causing him to flush red. The old woman, lingerie in hand, led him to a mirror. 

“I’m…I can’t.”

Bea just chuckled, holding the hanger up against him. “Look in the mirror boy, I’ve been making lingerie for fifty years. This suits you.”

Sanji obeyed her, staring at himself in the mirror. What he saw took his breath away. He looked a mess, face red and hair messy. He had to hand it to the old woman, the colour was flattering against him. Even the cut looked good. Sanji shifted from foot to foot, anxiety creeping in. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about looking so…so feminine. 

Sanji was a man. It wouldn’t be right for him to wear something so delicate and gorgeous. Right? Of course women’s clothing was beautiful, the fabrics they used, the stylish designs he’d seen the girls on the ship sport. Men’s clothing just, well it was meant to be masculine and boring. Right? He couldn’t let himself give in to that want to feel pretty, that would be wrong.

Right?

Bea, clearly noticing his inner struggle, scoffed.

“Sonny.”

“Sanji.” “Right. Sonny, I’ve been doing this for a long time.” “You, uh, you already said that.”

“I know that!” Bea snapped, swatting at him. Sanji’s gaze drifted back to the pink lace. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. When I started, well, I made boring beige bras and the same lacy black underwear again, and again, and again. I got bored. I got creative! And when I got creative, I became determined to make people feel pretty. People, Sonny, not women.”

Sanji went rigid, his throat was so dry. Was he that obvious? All he could make out was a simple, “Oh?”

Bea grinned. “Everyone deserves the right to feel pretty.” Sanji opened his mouth to speak but the old woman just held up a wrinkled hand. “Nope. Don’t care if you’re a ‘man’. Everyone. Sonny, one day you’ll realise that being a ‘man’ is more than just grunting like an ape, or never showing any vulnerability, or even having a penis. Man is a state of mind, and Sonny, the sooner you feel comfortable in who you are, the more beautiful life is going to be for you.”

Sanji felt breathless. “Really?”

“Really.” Bea nodded, a fondness in her eyes. “Come, we’ll get you a choker to go with it, I have just the one.”

Sanji felt a million miles away as Bea led him to the shop counter. She handled a delicate pink satin choker with care, presenting it to him. It was a giant bow, a simple snap holding it in place around the neck. Simple, but delicate. If Sanji was honest with himself, he liked it.

“Like a million berry! Your precious one will love you in it!” Bea smiled fondly at him. “So, Sonny, you buying?”

Sanji sucked in a deep breath. When he spoke his voice was foreign to him, a shakiness underlying the wispiness. Sanji felt like he was treading water, unsure and scared of the newness of it all. He could drown at any moment.

“Yeah.”

“Good, good!”

So Sanji paid. Bea took extra care to wrap the lingerie up in a delicate pink tissue paper. His own little present. She then promptly put it in an unmarked bag. She understood, shooting him a wink.

“So, anyone, huh?”

“Oh yes, yes. You see, originally I made them for my girlfriend when I was a much younger lady. She was a farmer’s daughter, wonderful girl, shared many a kiss with her, and then some! Now I make these lovely ones for my current husband. You remind me a lot of him, Sonny. You see he lets me wear this harness thing that I put in his a-”

“Thank you grandma, I’ll be out of here now!”

“Yes, yes. Good luck, Sonny! Stop by with your sweetie and get something nice one day, okay?” Bea waved her goodbyes from the doorway, smiling that same sweet old woman smile. Sanji clutched the bag to his chest tightly. 

Right. Time to put the plan into place.

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Like everyone else on Earth, I'm thoroughly stoked about the Superman trailer, and one reason that I haven't seen mentioned as much is, obviously casting the role is always going to be mostly about finding a guy with The Look who can also act, The Look is extremely important, but historically it seems like casting directors have focused on build and/or a certain type of facial bone structure, which is all well and good, but casting a guy who's 6'4" is a *fantastic* choice. There's something about that characteristic hunch of a man who's Big But Feels Weird About It that is so, so perfect for Clark. Just seeing him walk down the street a head taller than everyone else but looking like he absolutely Feels Weird About It does so much heavy lifting -- it's both genuinely who Clark is (hello, fellow human beings!) and perfectly lays bare how the secret identity works (your coworker is big and handsome and should by all rights be desirable, but he's still such a loser about it, the loser radiates from his core). It's just a great element of visual storytelling.

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 22

Prompt: Stormy Night

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, not beta read, kissing, confessions (sorta), holding hands, sharing drinks, slight angst

Summary: You show the God of thunder your favourite spot to watch the lightning

Word Count: 2k+ (2054)

A/N: I am a big lover of thunder and lightning, I find the stormy weather really relaxing 💜 This was originally meant to be short and sweet but whoops my hand slipped and now it's over 2k ... - Love, Grem x Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

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Raining cats and dogs was the understatement of the century. It was raining a whole zoo as far as you were concerned, and quite frankly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Wind bellowed and howled through the compound, battering against the windows. You could still see the faint outline of the trees whipping violently in the winds through the rain and darkness thanks to the occasional flash of lightning.

Tonight was perfect.

You were in your fluffiest, most cosy pyjamas, nursing a mug of cocoa and shuffling quietly through the compound, to your favourite spot. You knew everyone would be busy; Tony and Bruce in the labs, if Vision wasn't with them he'd be with Wanda and vice versa, Steve, Bucky, Sam and Nat would be training somewhere no doubt and Clint would have headed home to his family (or perhaps he was stuck in the vents again).

Peace and quiet, for one lovely evening.

"HELLO Y/N!" Thor bellowed excitedly, spotting you as he exited his room. The scream you let out was horror movie worthy and you thankfully didn't spill any cocoa. You couldn't tell if you were offended that FRIDAY or anyone else in the compound didn't hear the scream and come running to your aid.

"Hey Thor," You smile weakly at him, feeling embarrassed at both forgetting him and screaming with fear. Thor just continues to beam at you pleasantly. The God of Thunder was a dazzling ray of sunshine; who knew?

Thor eyes your mug of cocoa and your pyjamas. "Are you heading to bed Y/N? Apologies for frightening you."

You shuffle a little awkwardly. You don't want to lie to him but you don't want it to come off as strange. Thor just smiles down at you, his giant self keeping you in his shadow. Wasn't Loki supposed to be the giant?

"It's alright. And, um, no. Not exactly."

Thor raises an eyebrow at you curiously and your stomach flips. Heat builds in your cheeks and you look away bashfully. He was stupidly handsome, but then you supposed he was a god after all.

It takes you a moment to find your voice again when you realise Thor is waiting for you to continue.

"I'm going up to the roof." You say with a small shrug.

"In this weather?" He asks, as a gust of wind smacks a sheet of rain onto the windows. Thor looks back at you confused, looking at your pyjamas. "And dressed like that?"

You wiggle your feet in your comically fluffy slippers. You weren't exactly dressed for the weather, but your hiding place always kept you dry.

"I..." you begin and then shake your head. "It's hard to explain without the visuals. But I'll be fine. This is my favourite kind of weather."

Thor breaks into another smile and you find you're smiling back.

"Really?" He stands a little straighter, prouder, hands on his hips. "It's mine as well."

"You are the God of Thunder," You chuckle. "I don't know why that's such a surprise."

You regard him for a moment, weighing up your options. On the one hand, you can bid him good night and head to your hiding place alone. On the other, you could spend more time with Thor.

Yeah. Option two was better.

"Come with me," you say suddenly, jerking your head behind you. You move to walk in the direction of the stairwell.

"Are you sure?" Thor asks, taking two small steps and closing the distance between you. "I don't want to intrude."

Your heart melts at the gentle giant before you, further solidifying your decision to bring him with you.

"Very sure. It's just up past the stairs."

The stairwell was quiet, save for the rain. Saying that, they were always quiet. Why use stairs when you had elevators? Or powers? Or an iron suit that could fly?

They were still required for health and safety though.

You sipped at your cocoa, treading up the concrete stairs to the door that lead to the roof. Your legs burned with the excersise but Thor seemed nonplussed and thankfully didn't make much of a fuss of how easy it was for him.

The door rattled with the wind and you huffed as you pushed down on the handle, edging out into the wind. You struggled against the door, the wind pushing back fiercely. Thor's large palm appears next to your head and pushes the door gently, sending it flying open. Meanwhile you get a face full of rain.

"Sorry!" Thor gushes as he follows you through the door. You sprint through the rain across the roof top with Thor close behind, to small building on the other side. Your cocoa is significantly more watered down by the time you fling open the door, half dragging Thor inside.

With Thor in the small cabin-like building it seems more like a broom closest. There's a beaten down sofa with a musty blanket and a small unit with radios, a microwave, mugs, a kettle and a mini fridge hidden beneath it. You'd guess it was a little cubby hole that was meant for monitoring in case of the worst, but it seemed forgotten about. Anytime it rained or stormed and thundered or if you just needed a break away from people - this was your go-to place.

"You're not allowed to tell the others about this place," You tell Thor, setting your mug down to tousle some of the rain out of your hair. Your eyes flicker back to him and you see that he's studying the small space. "It'll be our secret. Want a drink?"

Thor smiles over to you at the notion of you both sharing a secret but he shakes his head at your offer. "No thanks, not right now." He pauses, looking at the ceiling with wonder as a particularly heavy sheet of rain pounds against the roof. The roof was metal but the cubby was made from concrete breezeblocks, so you were under no threat of being killed by lightning. But it was that metal roof that made rainfall sound like gunfire, echoing around the small room.

Thor's eyes close and he sighs, making you smile softly.

"Nice, right?" You say, taking a seat on the sofa, pressing yourself as far into the arm as you possibly can to give him space.

"It's relaxing," He says appreciatively, taking the other end of the sofa, carefully avoiding touching you. You don't speak for a few minutes, focusing solely on the sound of the rain and then...

A flash of light illuminates the room followed closely by the unmistakable roar of thunder. You smile in the direction of the small window and once there's silence again, you speak.

"I like being close to it like this," You murmur. Thor hums in agreement, although you don't notice that he's looking at you. "I've never felt more at peace when the weather is like this."

That earns you a deep chuckle, that sounds coincidentally similar to the thunder outside. "You're probably the only one who thinks that."

"Maybe." You shrug, giving him a grin from over your mug. "But I love it all the same."

Thor shifts a little in his seat, raking his hands through damp, golden locks. "I've had it all day from Stark." He confesses. "He thinks it's my fault we have this weather."

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. It would make sense. Again, God of Thunder after all. "Is it?"

Thor looks sheepish. "Not on purpose."

You snort a laugh and another lightning flashes, closer this time, with another growl of thunder. You miss how Thor's cheeks turn pink in the white light from outside.

"Not on purpose?" You say excitedly. "Do you always control the weather like this?"

"No," He clears his throat. "Sometimes I just amplify it."

You nod sagely. "That's pretty cool. Well, thank you for amplifying this," You gesture to the window shaking in its pane. "This is the best storm I've had in a long time."

Lighting and thunder strike again and you shiver involuntarily.

"You know, I'm not counting the seconds between thunder, but the lighting seems to be getting awfully close." You shoot a look at Thor. "Do you think-"

Another flash and roar.

"Do you think we're in the eye of the storm?" You finish, silently hoping that that's what it was and that you didn't just bring an electrical conduit less than a foot away from you.

Thor nods but he's looking directly at you now, studying your face every time there's a flash of light. When you shiver again, he pulls the musty blanket from behind you both and tosses it over both of your legs. You mumble your thanks, watching the window to see if you can see the lightning strike. Another comfortable bout of silence falls between you and you sigh dreamily listening to the rain.

You don't move away when you feel Thor's fingers tentatively reach for yours, or when his hand rests on top of yours. Your heart does somersaults, though. The unspoken moment is far better this way. You turn your palm upwards, still watching the rain, and when Thor goes to move his hand away, you're already interlacing your fingers with his.

The lightning is brighter than it was before, the thunder is louder and the heat in your cheeks rises tenfold as you realise that the weather is reacting to how Thor is feeling. To test your theory, you squeeze his large hand in yours and, sure enough, thunder blares loudly with another lightning flash.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a smile as you look over at him. Thor has sunk into the pillows, hiding his beet red face with his free hand. You squeeze his hand again for funsies and he peeks out behind his hand with the most adorable puppy-dog eyes you had ever seen as lightning flashes.

"It's embarrassing," He flusters unprompted. "Do you know how often we would have thunderstorms when I was small?"

"I don't think you've ever been small," You tease and Thor gives you a shaky grin.

"Every time I cried or had a tantrum - thunder and lightning." He huffs, displeased. "Everyone hated it, apart from my Loki who found it hilarious."

You squeeze his hand again, no thunder this time, as Thor looks solemn; homesick.

Thor looks over to you again with a smile and you feel your heart melt and break all at once. No wonder he was always a little ray of sunshine; he was terrified of being hated for something he couldn't quite control.

"What's a little rain?" You shrug, offering a reassuring smile. You offer your luke-warm-but-really-almost-cold mug of cocoa to him and he takes a gracious sip before handing it back. You're both leaning a little closer now, hands still clasped together, watching each other.

"You're something else," He chuckles. "Another odd human. I see why you've stuck around."

"You have too," You point out, nudging him lightly. "You're just as odd as us, I'm afraid."

You brush a lock of stray hair glued to his face and tuck it behind his ear gently, your palm not quite leaving his cheek. His cheek is warm under your palm and you could have sworn you felt static. Your eyes meet and your heart skips - just as there's another flash of lightning. You smile. Thor smiles back sheepishly. Then you do something unexpected. You lean that little bit closer and nervously press your lips against his.

The sound that erupts from beyond the clouds is deafening. The light is blinding - so much so you're sure aliens have come to abduct you. Or well, maybe a god has.

Oh, and that was definitely static you were feeling. As you move back to take a breath you can feel your lips tingling with electricity, your whole body vibrating with a current and wattage you've never felt before. Thor looked like he was experiencing the same thing, just a lot more shocked (if you'll excuse the pun).

"Will that happen every time I kiss you?" You giggle, squeezing his rough hand again.

"I suppose we will just have to find out." Thor grinned, his heart skipping along to the beat of thunder outside.

[dc418writes]

✨Pairing✨: softdark!assassin!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: the mysterious man in the corner booth is gonna make you wish you stayed home

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!!!, language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of adult happy fun times, allusion to reader being held against her will (so dubcon..?? Ish??? 🤷🏽‍♀️)

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to the @secretswiftymarvelfan I Love You 3000 Writing Bonanza✨! Congrats again on 3000 followers👏🏾👏🏾!! I hope you - and everyone else who reads - like what I put together!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

AU: assassin, Trope: one night only, Dialogue: “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want”

Taking a deep breath, you stand smoothing your white tennis skirt down against your thighs before making your way to the ridiculously handsome man your friends pushed you into talking to.

“Girl take a chance for once!”

“I-I don’t want to bother him. Plus I’m sure he already has someone,” you replied nervously holding your hands in your lap. From your quick glances his way, he seemed unimpressed with everything - and potentially everyone - around. Content and enjoying his solace.

“Well you won’t know unless you ask,” your other friend countered in a sing-song manner fluttering her newest lash extensions.

Now here you were nearly to the corner booth in the dimmest part of the bar with your fruity cocktail in hand as your pink, strappy heels tapped against the floor. The stranger’s eyes locked with yours as he sips his own glass tumbler half filled with a brown liquid. How his tongue peeks out to collect the small droplets left, paired with the corner of his mouth tilting in the slightest smirk, leaves an involuntary flutter in your lower abdomen that carries down into your core.

Your cheeks - and overall body - warm as you finally reach your destination. “H-Hi.”

He gently bows his shaved head, “Hello.”

“Sorry to bother you. M-My friends and I made this pact to try new things this year and mine is to walk up to a guy I’m attracted to since I don’t really do that so here I am…”

“I’m not surprised.” You feel your mood fall at his words and embarrassment swell in your chest. How foolish of you to think you could do this? That you had an ounce of sex appeal or confidence like those other girls you saw easily able to grab any man they wanted. It’s exactly why you stayed to yourself. Your ultimate fear of rejection keeping you rooted in your seat or at home.

“O-Oh?,” is all you can muster feeling even more stupid that you didn’t even have a solid retort.

“As gorgeous as you are, I’m sure you always have men coming up to you. No need for you to do any work,” he explains making a shy smile spread along your glossy lips and relief soothe the uneasiness of your stomach. He extends his hand to the seat next to him motioning for you to join him, which you gladly take with a quiet “thank you.”

“Truthfully, it’s my friends that get all the attention. Guys usually just walk past me to get to them.”

“Nothing against your friends, but sounds like those boys were idiots,” he firmly states before taking a last pull of his drink to finish it. The tic in his jaw as if he’s bothered by those other men even though he doesn’t know them. As if he’s annoyed at just their mere mention. “Then again, should probably thank em for allowing us to meet huh?”

At that, you seem to lose your train of thought immediately letting your eyes fall to your lap again so giddy from his words. A brief silence falls over your table, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable in the slightest. Finally peeking up again, his ocean eyes - and overall expression - turn a bit softer, which doesn’t help the butterflies erupting in what feels like your whole body.

“Shit, sweetheart you got me forgetting my manners. Curtis,” he introduces in a deep drawl that sends tingles up your spine. Holding his hand out, you notice intricate, black ink along the back of his hand and knuckles - in a design you can’t exactly make out - that looks to extend all the way up his arm covered by his black long sleeve shirt. You feel guilty for it, but you let your mind wander to how far it exactly goes. To his solid chest? His, probably, perfectly sculpted back maybe? Across his firm pecs and down to his abs you could visibly make out through his shirt?

The longer your mind imagined, the more that itch to find out grew stronger. And when you placed your hand in his - noting just how much larger it was than yours, not to mention stronger - you knew you were done for.

“Y/N.”

•

It’s pitch black when you finally awake to the quiet room. The side of your face pressed into the vanilla bourbon scented pillow below you - the same one Curtis had you drooling, moaning, and pleading in majority of the night.

The way he wrung your body exhausted pulling orgasms one after the other - you honestly couldn’t remember the exact number from your brain turning into mush after the second - you’d think he created you. Molded you with his own hands and knew just where he hid that special spot inside you. Then again, maybe it was just from you being..well..out of commission for some time.

Slightly lifting your head, you finally notice you’re lying by yourself in his king sized bed. The sheets pulled up to cover your back and keep you warm.

Additionally, just how quiet it is around you as if you’re the only one there period.

“C-Curtis?,” you hoarsely call out hoping he just journeyed to the kitchen or even another room for a call. Having a house so extravagant, clearly he had to do something highly important that took most of his time.

But you’re met with silence, causing the once tired smile along your lips to falter.

You thought he really liked you. That he would’ve wanted to see you again sometime and maybe grow into something more. “That’s why they call it one night stand,” you mumble to yourself feeling the crack in your heart spread bit by bit as you slide from under the warm covers to collect your things.

It seems like your stomach becomes queasy again with every piece of clothing you put on; making you study your earlier conversation trying to discover any missed signs or warnings. Of course you still didn’t see any, only making you feel foolish and ashamed all over again.

Heels clacking and echoing throughout the home, you’re too busy reserving an Uber on your phone to notice Curtis standing in front of the main door until you nearly run into him. A startled scream pushing from your lungs as one hand lands on your chest and the other drops your phone to the hardwood floor.

With his black top and black pants, he looked as if he’d been in combat having hand guns hanging from the harness strapped across his upper body. Black gloves covering his hands, and red dots splattered along his face match the dripping streaks on his top that are undoubtedly blood.

His expression, hard and stoic, causes an increase in your heart rate now nervous and confused as to what happened to his overall state let alone the change in his mood.

“What happened to you?,” you quietly ask.

“Nothing you need to worry about. And that’s also the first and last time you ask about my business, got it?” His harsher tone has you slightly flinching; taking a step back as you gently nod your head.

“I-I’m sorry..I didn’t mean-,”

“Pretty sure I left you asleep,” he retorts removing his gloves.

“I was looking for you a-and I saw you were gone,” you stammer wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought-,”

“That this was over? Oh sweetheart you’re too cute.” His words should have you jumping for joy and excited, but his deep chuckle - more menacing than comforting - causes an unwelcome sinking in your gut.

One swift stride forward with his long legs, and Curtis catches your chin in his hand pressing his fingers into your cheeks hard enough to make your plump lips pout and a surprised whimper to leave your heaving chest. You had no choice but to face those blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place; only worsening your nerves.

“I’ll let you know now I’m hard to get rid of,” he whispers ghosting his lips over yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want. Who I want.”

You remain quiet - as if you could even try to fight - letting his grip loosen until his fingertips drag from the side of your neck to your collarbone making you shiver. Your body still somehow willing to give in to this man who surely was more dangerous than you could imagine.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna get out these clothes and you’re gonna help me clean up in the shower. I’ll put you back to sleep then order breakfast for us in the morning, where you’ll rightly apologize for trying to leave in whatever way I see fit until our food arrives. Understand button?”

You need to fight. Any logical person would scream and shout to the heavens punching and kicking past the point of exhaustion in this situation. Yet you were stuck. Partially from fear of not knowing what Curtis was truly capable of, and partially from your greedy core loving that idea. You could feel the light throb and arousal begin to leak from you making your thighs clinch.

Of course he notices too from the smug smirk on his lips. “Y-Yes,” you softly answer.

“Good girl.”

Who would’ve thought your first - well almost - one night stand would be your last?

[bluenerdtastemaker]

The Dare Might Be Not Bad ²²¹⁰

Tattoo Artist! Yuki Tsunoda + F1 Driver Pierre Gasly | 1.5K

"Maybe tourists weren’t so bad after all."

Yuki Tsunoda didn’t like tourists.

Sure, they were one of the reasons tattoo artists like him could make a decent living income. Besides his loyal clients who kept coming back for his creativity and unique designs, tourists filled in the gaps, requesting quick tattoos to commemorate their trips. But tourists never gave him much creative freedom—always asking for tiny symbols, names, or meaningless quotes. The worst were the ones getting tattoos on a dare; oh, those were nightmares waiting to happen. They’d show up weeks later, regret written all over their faces, demanding refunds or crying about a decision made in a drunken haze.

Today’s clients seemed no different, yet there was something unusual about them that made Yuki hesitate. He stared at the two men standing at the counter. Both had an unmistakably European look, with one of them sporting a face Yuki had seen splashed across sports headlines: Charles Leclerc. Beside him was another strikingly handsome man, Pierre Gasly, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Yuki sighed inwardly, mentally preparing himself for whatever nonsense was about to unfold.

“Hello, welcome to Matsui Studio,”

---

Matsui Studio was a hidden gem tucked away in one of Tokyo’s lesser-known streets, a place where people came for more than just ink. The shop was a visual spectacle—a far cry from the typical sterile, white-walled tattoo studios most tourists expected. Instead, the studio was bathed in a moody atmosphere dominated by dark turquoise neon lights, casting a dim but inviting glow that gave the space an otherworldly aura.

The walls were a rich matte black, adorned with eclectic artwork framed in shadow boxes, showcasing intricate tattoo designs and traditional Japanese motifs. In one corner, a softly humming water feature added a calming background noise, blending seamlessly with the low thrum of lo-fi beats playing from hidden speakers. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood incense mixed with the sterile tang of antiseptic—a scent Yuki found oddly comforting.

Long, sleek shelves lined with tattoo inks, neatly arranged in gradient order, sparkled under the neon glow, while the leather chairs were deep black, their surfaces gleaming. Dark green plants in geometric pots were scattered strategically, bringing a touch of life to the otherwise shadowy interior.

—

“Hello, welcome to Matsui Studio, what can I help you?” The asian man greeted them in accented-fluent English, his customer-service mask firmly in place to the two white clients in front of him with a distinct English accent knowing these people are not well versed in his mother tongue, glad that he does well in linguistic related studies, cause at least he has no problem communicating with foreigners.

Charles, who the asian quickly recognised, flashing his characteristic charming smile, clapped Pierre, who also quickly recognised, on the shoulder. “We’d like him to get a tattoo,” he announced, practically beaming with mischief. Pierre winced, clearly regretting whatever bet had landed him here. “This guy doesn’t have any ink yet, so we thought, why not fix that tonight? It's something small. It’s a dare, after all.”

‘Of fucking course it’s a dare,’ The asian tattooist thought, barely managing to hide his annoyance. He kept his face impassive as he glanced at Pierre, who was glaring daggers at his friend.

Pierre finally stepped forward, meeting Yuki’s gaze. There was a flicker of something there—something that made Yuki pause. Pierre’s eyes were deep, a stormy blue, filled not with the bravado he was used to seeing from people dragged in for a dare, but with genuine discomfort. Yuki had to admit it was refreshing to see someone taking this seriously, even if they were here under pressure.

“Alright,” Yuki said with a sigh, pulling his sleeves up, uncovering his tattooed forearm, leaning on the counter with crossed arms, his tattoo-covered forearms on display.

“So, what do you want? The classic ‘dare’ stuff? Hearts, initials, or something equally meaningless? If you’re serious about this, I don’t do bullshit. You’re getting something that looks good, or you’re walking out of here with nothing. Your choice.”

Charles raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning, letting his best friend on the front line, who nodded slowly, stepping up to the challenge. “No letters or initials,” Pierre said, voice steady but soft. “I want something small, but... meaningful. Something I won’t regret.”

Yuki’s eyebrow arched in surprise. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. Most people in Pierre’s position would have caved and gone with whatever easy option got them out of the chair fastest. But Pierre... Well, he seemed to actually care about what ended up on his skin.

“Alright,” Yuki said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Come on back. Let’s see if we can figure something out.”

‐--

The tattooing room was a continuation of the main studio’s vibe but with an even deeper, more intimate ambiance. Dark turquoise neon tubes bordered the ceiling, reflecting off black lacquered walls. A long window provided a peek into the bustling Tokyo streets outside, where city lights blurred like a kaleidoscope of colors in the late-night drizzle. The room’s centerpiece was Yuki’s tattoo chair, made of sleek black leather with turquoise stitching that matched the shop’s color scheme.

Pierre gingerly took a seat, trying to calm his nerves. Charles leaned against the doorframe, scrolling through his phone while occasionally glancing over with an amused smirk. The lighting cast soft shadows across Pierre’s sharp features, making him look even more ethereal. Yuki noticed how the neon light caught in Pierre’s eyes, giving them an almost electric blue hue.

“So,” Yuki began, snapping on a pair of black gloves, “you mentioned wanting something meaningful. Any specific ideas, or are you leaving it up to me?”

Pierre hesitated, shooting a quick glance at Charles, who was now busy taking pictures against the neon-lit walls. Yuki rolled his eyes—celebrities. But something about Pierre made him linger a little longer. There was a softness to his expression, an earnestness Yuki wasn’t used to seeing in his usual clientele.

“I was thinking... maybe something related to my career,” Pierre finally said. “Or... something to do with traveling. I spend so much of my life on the road.”

Yuki’s eyes flicked up to meet Pierre’s, and he nodded thoughtfully. “How about a compass?” Yuki suggested, quickly sketching out a design in his notebook. “Simple, elegant, and it can symbolize your journey. Racing is all about navigating through life’s challenges, right?”

Pierre’s eyes widened, looking at the tattoo artist; ‘Oh, so he knew.’ The French man thought as he slowly looked at the sketch. The lines were clean, the design understated but powerful. “Yeah,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “That’s perfect.”

Yuki’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. “Alright. Let’s get started.”

---

Pierre’s hands were clenched into fists as Yuki prepared the tattoo gun, cleaning the area on his inner wrist where they’d decided to place the design. Yuki could feel the nervous energy radiating off Pierre, and for some reason, he found himself wanting to ease the guy’s nerves. Usually, he didn’t care if clients were uncomfortable. They were the ones who chose to be here, after all.

But Pierre... something about him was different.

“You alright?” Yuki asked, his tone softer than before. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”

Pierre let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah, just... not a fan of needles,” he admitted, cheeks flushing slightly.

Yuki’s smirk widened. “I’ve had grown men cry in this chair,” he teased lightly, “and they weren’t even as pretty as you.” The words slipped out before Yuki could think better of it, but he didn’t regret them when he saw the way Pierre’s eyes widened, then softened, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Pretty, huh? That’s a new one,” Pierre replied, a hint of playfulness in his tone despite his nerves.

Yuki chuckled, leaning in closer to finish the tattoo. “Stay still, pretty boy. Let’s see if you can handle this.”

—

The hum of the tattoo machine filled the room, blending with the soft music and the occasional rumble of traffic outside. The first buzz of the needle made Pierre flinch, but he gritted his teeth, determined to see this through. Yuki worked with a deft hand, the design slowly coming to life on Pierre’s wrist. The concentration in Yuki’s eyes, the way his brows furrowed in focus, it was mesmerizing. Pierre found himself watching Yuki more than worrying about the pain, actually the pain is not bad at all now the French man thinks about it.

Feeling like it was forever, when Yuki was done, he leaned back to admire his work. The compass tattoo was clean and precise, perfectly aligned on Pierre’s wrist, the delicate lines catching the soft neon glow.

Pierre stared at it, awe in his eyes. “It’s... incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

“Glad you like it,” Yuki said, peeling off his gloves. "Before you go, I need to protect this to heal." Proceeding to explain the healing process and how he should take care of it, briefly mention this is important to maintain the hard earned tattoo and to avoid infection.

“Now go show your friend before he whines about how long it took.”

Pierre stood, but he hesitated, slipping Yuki a generous tip. As their eyes met again, there was a moment of silence, a spark that neither could deny.

“Maybe... I’ll come back for another one,” Pierre said, a hint of mischief in his smile.

Yuki shrugged, though his heart skipped a beat. “You know where to find me.”

As Pierre left the studio, Charles teasing him mercilessly, Yuki found himself smiling.

Maybe tourists weren’t so bad after all.

[nixalegos]

You are a man that understands the laws, the rules, and possesses the knowledge. But there are instances in our experiences, where we come up short - no matter how much preparation, diligence, and careful planning we exert to avoid all and any circumstances.

And as such fate saw it kind to bless and curse you in one swift swing. No longer do you reside in your body, but instead within that of the Sanguine Sorceress. And she, now finds her domain within your body's vessel.

And let it be known; this was not at all in thanks to the Commander's meddling. It just so happened that might be the first thought that crosses your mind.

The sudden apparent fact that he was not in his own body was...unfortunate. Quick sweep. Not in a ritual circle. Not bound. Not in an area of anti-magic. Not being shot at or threatened. Silver linings. Cloak...red. Body? Well, he was certainly shorter then his mind wanted him to be. A quick check under the armor confirmed a few things. The lack of equipment he was more comfortable boasting...general state of health was awf- Oh. Joy of joys. He knew whos body he was stuck in. Why the fuck was she in...He looked up to the sky, to the nearby trees covered in snow. Northrend, anyway? Questions for later. First came fixing the problem. Which meant keeping her from doing anything EXTREMELY dumb with his body. And doing something about this infernal craving trying to gnaw in her veins. It was different than the hunger he knew. More visceral, crude. Not the thirst that couldn't be sated with just magic and essence like he had to handle. If he was the engine always threatening to tip into empty, she was the drain. Interesting. He hoped he could remember this revelation once he was back in his own skin. A temporary solution to her nature was possible without simply drowning themselves in waterfalls of mortal vital fluid. One problem at a time. First was communication. He needed an eye, which normally meant he needed his own BLOOD. Which he didn't have. What did he have? Knowing why he needed his blood. 'Mala' turned and leaned over her own shadow, a cold death thin hand coming to caress the penumbra of what was cast behind them until 'she' felt the prick, and plucked a sliver of something that shouldn't have been there between claw like fingertips. One did not need fel to use sorcery. And they were in luck. Thanks to a deal of long ago, he knew exactly how sangromantic energy could power a blood shot eye along the network of blood and identities back to- "Hello handsome." He said in her voice to himself. No visual. He, or rather, she, was likely still in his house, as he had been before this unfortunate swap situation. "Don't do anything uncouth please, tempting as it may be. I have no idea why we're stuck in each other. The demons are downstairs to the right, just get in the doorway and tell them we have a 'Razor White Bloodless Dyrad' situation, so they don't actively try to kill you...or worse thinking they're getting their shot at me. That'll buy us two hours. Alert the Jeeves in the docking station the same thing. It'll have everything you need to deal with a 'being in my body' situation." He said, trying to sound reassuring with her voice was...alien. @sanguinesorceress and @kelzthalassunwhisper for thinking she's funny.