#and so the tiny piece that sticks out and connects it to the other half broke off cause it fell 😭

[pinolitas]

was cleaning my figures and I broke ulquiorra's lightning 😭😭😭 in the little connector piece 😭

[angelofsmalldeaath]

work song — a.h.b.

a/n: full disclosure, i've posted this before on tumblr for something else. but i love this piece very much and i think it fits for him and this song so well 🤍 (it's gone under quite a few edits too, though)

cw: mentions of death but of well that's a given

the artist flicks through the feature. 

her name is printed in big letters on the cover of the monthly issue, her face—smiling and excited—next to the centrepiece of her latest art collection: cupid and psyche. 

the painting is stunning, a riot of bold colours and patterns, but at the centre is a man, his face hidden, his red-brown curls tousled. his body is relaxed, she thinks there's an air of carefreeness about him. 

and she'd know that for sure, after all that day is etched into her memory. 

when she feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around her, she smiles. 

“you're rather proud of the feature, aren't you?” his voice holds a little teasing note. she's stared at the feature for close to thirty minutes now, discreetly pinching herself in the same spot on her arm. (it sports a tiny, barely-there bruise now) 

“good,” he nuzzles his face into her neck, softly kissing the skin, “you should be. the exhibit was fucking gorgeous.”

“mmm, because you were the centrepiece?” fondly, she teases back, but the memory flashes in front of her eyes—the bustling art gallery, him in a corner, wearing a plain hoodie and jeans and a cap hiding half of his face, absolutely brimming with pride. 

she remembers the journalists asking about the man in all the paintings, the one whose face no one can see. “he's my muse,” she says every time, “this collection is dedicated to him.” 

“someone's going to connect the dots,” he walks around her, settling himself next to her on the settee. instantly, they rearrange themselves into a tangle—her legs on his lap, his arm around her, her head on his shoulders, his head on hers. “if they looked carefully, they'll make the connection.” 

“sweet boy, we have been each other's muse for years now and no one's found out. i don't think they're going to start now. besides,” she snorts, “i think the art world thinks i've made you up in my mind. won’t be the first time an artist's gone insane.”

he laughs a hearty laugh. “maybe you have. you always say i'm too good to be true.”

when she can't think of a retort, she sticks her tongue out, shrieking away as he smothers her in kisses. 

“seriously though, it's fun writing about you. singing about you. and i love seeing myself through your eyes.” suddenly he sounds all sober and serious. she thinks his voice even wavers slightly at the end. he blinks quickly though, and just like that the brightness in his eyes is gone. 

“love it when you write about me too,” she teases, “love being told i give you a toothache just from kissing you.”

“oi! i put my heart into that! it's a precious memory for me.”

“the memory of me taking care of you when you were burning up a fever? the memory of you demanding more kisses?”

he giggles like a teenager, hiding his face in her hair. it's fun to rile him up like this, so she continues, poking him in the ribs. “oh, oh, is it the memory of you passing the flu to me?” 

“we took care of each other though!” he traps both her hands in his so she won’t be able to poke him more. a second passes, and he can’t resist kissing the knuckles. “and so you deserve to have a song written about you. or a whole album works too i think.”

he pauses for a little then tuts. “actually, no. don't wanna tell anyone it's about you, that'll ruin the magic.”

“ruin the magic?” 

“of being your muse and having you as mine. a hundred years from now, when people would see your art as the artwork of this generation, and my music as the tune of our times—”

“tune of our times...”

“yeah, quit laughing at me!” he flicks her nose, kissing it right after. “so when my music becomes the tune of our times, i think people will see it then. they will make the connections.”

secretly, she loves the idea—that their love might transcend time and space, heaven and hell through their art. that decades from now their names might be whispered together, even though they aren’t just yet. 

“of course, we'll be buried together by then. same grave by the way, very romeo and juliet of us.”

“that's morbid!” she laughs sharply, “what will the epitaph say?”

he hums for a bit, thinking. his eyes flutter shut for a second or two, almost like he needs to focus on the half formed thought until it's a complete sentence. then he excitedly clears his throat and gently holds her face between his hands. 

“here lie the artist and the muse; inspiring each other in death as they did in life.”

[scentedpepper]

Oranges

EDDIE MUNSON X MALE READER

Summary: This HAS to be Eddie's year.

Content Warnings: (Spolier) Character Death

Other Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Fuck ya'll for making it cringe to like eddie

On other, more important notes, some background info and sincere warnings for ya:

This scene takes place s4 era. Reader graduated last year (s3) currently 18 going on 19. Felt like this was important to note given that our dear little failure here is a grown ass man and it'd be a tad bit strange to pair the little fucker with a highschool student.

Reader works as an intern at the school, hence, Eddie Munson.

Could possibly turn into a series (I have big dreams and not enough energy)

For those of you who have NOT seen s3, you will get spoiled by the end of this little thang so yk proceed with caution or wtv

Ummmmm

Oh right so, I know it says x Reader but this scene was in fact written with the intentions of putting an OC into the series. So for now, you're Joey.

That's it 🫶

_________________________________________

"No- No! See? This is- 'and it is'. Use an adverb to explain the connection and create... emotion. "

Eddie sinks in his own posture and slides a hand over his face, knocking his fringe sideways and out of the way. They have been at this for a while, and he's had enough. "You're not connecting the dots like I'm connecting the dots. "

"Those are literally dots. " Joey gestured towards the piece of paper that sat between them, littered with penmarks, of Eddie's choosing. He couldn't quite decphier why the man was lazily scratching the paper with color in certain areas. He peered closer at the margin on the left, words written across the blank surface that seemed made up. "How are you gonna connect something that wasn't written... this is an argumentative essay, Eddie. You're not allowed to just make up facts. " He wants to jab those pens underneath his eyelids. "What're all these marks for?"

"Alright, say, say this little orange, " Joey watches Eddie move his pen towards the tiny round doodle with squinted eyes, "what if it was in an orange?"

He's going to fail this.

Joey stares at the man unimpressed. "I've been sitting here trying to teach you how to write an arugmentative analysis on an article for the last hour, and you're drawing oranges on your paper?"

"With faces!" Eddie counters, pointing his orange pen– Joey's orange pen in the opposites face.

Joey snatches the pen from his hand abruptly and drops it, clattering down and across the wooden floor.

The pair of them have only gotten so far in this session of teaching. 'This session' being 1.5 hours, and Eddie had yet to pick up on the technique Joey had used to teach himself the tricks and secrets to these things years ago. Though, maybe he was giving him too much credit. The way the doe eyed mans head tilts to the side when he goes to the page and scans the lines for his answer seemed too much to bear.

They're in his trailer, surrounded by textbooks on the table that once belonged to Joey. This place, now that their studying system wasn't some figment of Joey's imagination brought to life, was a lot messier than he'd have liked it. But Munson came first.

Eddie wasn't dumb. Far from it, really. But in this moment he was. Maybe not, if you don't count the fact he wasn't listening. For the last hour. Or two. Joey definitely couldn't count because that sounded too depressing and he really did need to rethink his strategy.

"Sometimes doing homework is like sticking a fork in an electric socket. "

Nancy's words, not his, but either way he believes that now as well.

Joey stared at the older man's frame as he lay with his back against the rug on the carpet, eyes closed, another pen, teal, or at least the closests thing to it, hanging out of his mouth and some paper resting next to the upper half of his body.

"Eddie. "

"Yes, kind sir?" He quickly gets up, the second he hears his voice. He rests his arms on top of the surface of the round coffee table. "I'm totally paying attention, go on. "

Joey manages a breath before he rips the pen from Eddie's mouth and places it aside. Eddie gaped like a fish for a few moments too long and then took his pen back.

"You can't draw oranges in an analysis essay, please pay attention. "

Joey can feel his hair stand on end when he turns back to the English work.

"Yeah but hear me out, everyone is an orange. "

Joey's eyes flee back up to the man. "Eddie–" He protests.

"Just..." The man's mouth opens and a hint of an apology graces his soft facial structure but is soon replaced by his stubborn stance, his leg jolts slightly with his arms as he pushes his palms forward to the table. "C'mon. I'm smart, right?"

"...Yes?"

Eddie smiles triumphantly. His hair, resting in beautiful knots beside his ears. "Think about it. " He puts a finger up to his temple, tapping it twice. "People are oranges, and each orange is unique. Alike, but totally different. Maybe the ones with the nugget are rotten, or they taste more bitter or whatever. But someone likes 'em–"

"For their orange flavour?"

"Orange flavour. " Eddie grins at him. Joey has his suspicions about that grin.

"Sure, Ed. " He picks up his pencil and twists it around. "Now sit down. " He deadpans, eyes scanning the book passage in front of him.

Nonetheless, Eddie prevales. "You're my favorite orange. "

Joey gives him a look, his features remaining blank but there's a strange– almost longing tension to his jaw.

"You know why?" He drags out the last word while simultaneously circling the others nose with the orange pen he'd reterived without notice before giving the tip of the mans nose a prompt 'boop!'. "Because. "

A pause. Longer than Joey would have liked.

"..What?"

His eyes trace down his face.

"You're bigger. "

"Bigger?" He stares down the man incredulously. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means–!" Eddie's eyes turn back into his and he smiles coyly, "that you give me bigger... biggaaa— heart boners. Every time we are alone. Y'know? Just us. " He pauses to watch the anger burning in the others eyes, "You... bein' all tall and broad and... strong. "

The end of his sentence is like a purr but it lacked the proper 'o' sound to make the word seductive. –The ridiculous flexing didn't do much to help him either.

"Heart boners?" Joey cracks a smile, unable to keep his face muscles strewn tight. "Jesus. Shut up. "

"We could play house. I wouldn't mind being a house wife. " Eddie tucks his hair behind his ear, sitting pretty. His eyes reflect a perverse joy.

In turn, Joey rolls his eyes, teeth peaking out from beneath his lips. "Analysis first –then you can cook and clean for me all you want. "

Not a minute later does Eddie get on his knees before lunging forward, throwing his arm around his shoulder and ruffling the brunettes hair. Joey struggles, laughter spilling out in unsteady puffs of air. "Hey, what the hell is your problem?!"

Eddie let's him loose after a few more moments of struggle and the sight Joey offers makes him beam. "It's nice to see you smile. " He admits. "You've been all, edgy, lately. "

Once again, it's always so very easy to lose this man's train of thought with simple distractions such as putting his hair up in a high bun and pushing stray strands behind his ears.

"Used to be all kind smiles and doe eyes. "

Somethings got to give.

"Ever since the mall fi–"

"Didn't realize you paid so much attention to me, Eddie. " He interrupts.

"Well, you just make it so hard not to. " Eddie grins widely at him, his eyes practically twinkling.

Eddie tries not to get too sore over things. Least of all with Joey. Especially since he's got a knack for tip toeing his way out of things himself. Today isn't the day for that, apparently. Because Eddie isn't having it. Which is annoying.

"Look, " he tries again, "I'm not saying you have to –ya know? Say anything. You've just been different...than before. "

That much he knows, Eddie's always noticed things. Because that's who he is and all the time he spent to by himself over the course of his many highschool years has taught him to be an observer, and it just so happened that he had the knowledge to tell when and how things were off.

But there was always something about the way the brunette carried himself, stiff on his feet and jittery like a trapped mouse, no one gave it much thought.

Not even Eddie really.

"You didn't even know me before, Eddie. " Joey's looking at the man with tired eyes, he wonders where his reasoning is coming from. Had they talked more? And how did he manage to create this image of him into a person he had no inkling of a memory towards?

"Hey, I beg to differ. " Eddie counters, "I've known you for like..." He counts on his fingers, recalling he was supposed to garduate two years before Joey. "Six years!"

Joey scoffs. "And out of all those years, we've only had a real conversation in these past few months. "

Eddie goes a little quiet after that.

"So you can wipe that memory of... whatever you have in your head. " His chest swells with an unwelcome pain and he holds his breath.

The man doesn't waver. "Thats not how this works. " His brows furrow, etching serious lines into his forehead. "I've seen you. You've changed since then. "

"No I haven't. " Joey's gaze flickers towards the man, eyes stern but deep within them stir the turbulent anger Eddie had become quite familiar with his whole life.

"You have. " Eddie continues. "Your laughs not as loud, " He gestures vaguely towards the brunettes chest. "You seem more sad than, -than you usually are? Is what I mean..."

Eddie draws his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down nervously.

"Eddie, just drop it. " He's turning in his place, pulling one foot beneath him on the floor as his butt brushes the fabric beneath his thighs.

Eddie goes silent but for only a few minutes because without much reluctance he's lifting the forgotten orange pen from the wooden floorboard again and twirling it between his fingers.

"...Joey. " He says softly after a few long moments. "This town's shitty. "

And if he'd said this to the man about a year ago, he wouldn't have agreed. But now, he feels like he's being stabbed in the chest at the mere sight of it.

Eddie, himself, makes him forget sometimes. The bad and all it's misery.

He's not all that happy about that.

Not as much as he should be. Would've been.

"You know, I'm here. " Eddie leans in a bit, in hopes his friends words along with his guts may spill right out from him, "As much as you are for me with these–" He lifts one from the table before promptly letting it fall from his fingertips. "shitty textbooks. "

Joey swallows roughly, the lump in his throat straining but after a few seconds, he can't help it.

He lets out a long sigh, containing himself all in one breath. "I knew someone..." He starts slow and doesn't seem keen on finishing.

"In the mall fire?"

A huff this time. "Yes– the mall fire. " It felt funny to adress it as such. A false statement.

He feels tense all over, skin rubbing against the denim pants he wore like sandpaper against dry wood.

"My friend–" He pauses to scoff. "If you could even call the asshole that. " And of course, he's still trying to conceal it, the fact that those months apart had been the worst months of his life.

Billy. Fucking, Hargrove. Who would've thought he'd end up on his mind so often?

"He– passed. " The words come out heavy, sitting cold on his tongue and tasting bitter when the admission leaves him. "In the fire. "

Bullshit. Fucking fire. Really?

...

[gurlgallade]

@whatvioletdoes-blog Alright! Angst fic dollhouse scene! Minimal context! Enjoy!

(Notes: Blue swearing per usual, neglect of physical needs, general implication that Vio is Not Coping Well with things. He’s not the only one, but he’s the focus guy here. Also Vidow mention.)

💙 • 💙 • 💙 • 💙

A purple-painted floor is pressed up against Blue’s face. Not water-proofed, a little rough, smells kind of like dirt and dead leaves.

Where the fuck is he? When he scrambles to his feet, woozy patches of darkness and colored spots speckle his vision. Did he faint? Or, did whoever was in here before him faint? Link’s body feels so bad! He’s hungry, and his hands have writing cramps, and he feels weird-shaped.

Fuck, those aren’t even hands. Why does he have paws. Why does he have a feathery Minish tail!?

Blue staggers over to the nearest window. It doesn’t have any glass; he just sticks his head out without any problem. The enormous leaves of a bush block most of the forest from view, but the trees are mountains to him, and the nearest inky-capped mushroom is at least twice his height. He has to be in a dollhouse.

His eyes widen. The fact that he can be Minish-sized again would be awesome, if he didn’t feel like death!

But how did this...?

Wait. He knows the answer. It was staring him in the face when he woke up. There is exactly one part of Link with the dedication and nerdery necessary to pull something like this off.

He turns around, glowering into the lavender walls of the house. Every one has scraps of torn paper tacked down to it. Some are connected by mauve sewing thread; the spool is being used as a side-table, holding a thimble half-filled with viscous green stamina potion. Is... is that all he’s eaten today? How long has he been here?

The little doll bookshelves are filled with tiny Minish-made tomes, and shrunken books from the Royal Library (oh that’s why Maggie’s been nagging at him), and stacks of paper with even more notes scrawled down.

Based on the open books on the dining table, one half-filled Minish journal and one from the library, it looks like a certain someone is trying to make copies.

Really, it looks like he passed out doing it.

Goddesses, Violet, you fucking freak. Somebody’s been hard at work.

Blue... also feels something weird in the air, now that he’s paying attention. A familiar dread. It feels a little like the darkness carried on Vaati’s winds, and a lot like the name he can’t think about at all costs if he doesn’t want to deal with Vio right now — the smirking boy that he absolutely did not kiss (eugh). Not this him, anyway.

Blue creeps around, vaguely eyeing Vi’s notes. Blah blah blah, Minish portal incantations, something something The Banished Tribe, portals to other worlds, yadda yadda yadda. Shit he won’t get without a verbal summary by someone more in the know.

Oh, there’s stairs behind these shelves.

Blue takes them two at a time, curiosity powering through his exhaustion. The dolly attic door feels flimsy as he pushes it open.

There’s exactly two things in the room. The first is a messy bed-nest made of leather shreds and scrap fabric, topped with a couple open books. The second is a jagged fragment of liquid black peeking out from under a handkerchief. It reflects his uneasy scowl, eyes cut off; his hair is getting pretty long.

Wait.

That’s a mirror, isn’t it.

Blue scrambles back downstairs, swallowing his panic.

Nope. Nope! NOPE. That is NOT a piece of the dark mirror, he refuses to belive it. Vio did not somehow manage to get his grubby hands on fuckery like that!

He’s going to visit Festari and Gentari, eat a berry or something, and then go back to the dollhouse for a nap. Somewhere besides the attic bed. He’ll sleep on the floor if he has to, because he’s done. He’s fucking done. Either Vi can wake up without realizing that he’s been caught, or one of the other two can deal with this shit.

“What the FUCK is my life anymore!?”

[deltaclaws]

Thinking about Monkie Kid S4 and need to share my thoughts n’ theories on something before I explode with excitement.

Spoilers of course, so click the read more if you want to see. It ended up being A LOT.

This first part is about Azure Lion’s actions in the last three or so episodes compared to what we’ve seen with Sun Wukong.

When Azure Lion accidentally cuts the piece of the scroll Wukong’s sealed in due to PTSD flashback triggered by MK diving for the scroll piece, his immediate reaction is regret and remorse, but he tells MK that they were planning to release him once they took over heaven. An interesting and awfully convenient detail to admit after you accidentally sliced your former sworn brother’s prison in half!

Most likely he was going to release Monkey King, I think. The thing that sticks out to me is his shifting the blame to MK. If he hadn’t acted, hadn’t tried to save his teacher and friend, Wukong would be ok and Azure Lion would’ve tooootally let him go after! Because his word has been faithful to that point and he hasn’t already double-crossed, totally.

Which is also pretty damn dirty on his part. For what little he knows of MK, he hit him where it hurt with that, and poured salt on the metaphorical aggravated wounds. He then proceeds to take away the pieces and put them on his belt as some kind of messed up memento. Wukong is dear to both of them, but Azure Lion decides that he should be the one to take his tiny maybe-not grave, and MK has to see Monkey King be taken away from him for a third time.

Where this compares to Wukong’s actions is how they would’ve handled the situation. Past Monkey King would’ve shifted the blame away from himself too- because hey, everyone should’ve known what to do, not his fault! But the Monkey King we know now, whose grown and lived long enough to see all of the consequences of his past actions, would’ve taken responsibility. He would find a way to fix things and make it his sole problem to deal with. (Not a completely healthy way to go about it, but by comparison he has more self awareness)

Azure Lion has had the same amount of time as Wukong to see how his actions affect the future and affect those around him, but his takeaway is completely different. He’s been stuck on what happened to him and their brothers, how they “failed”, and doesn’t bother to think about what could happen if/when they did overthrow heaven. Revenge against his former friend and everyone in heaven has just about narrowed his focus, and thus clouded his judgement. He’s stuck in the past and in many ways stunted his own growth.

Which brings me to some bullet points.

“Sun Wukong isn’t that great either“- No, he’s 100% flawed and still reaping what he sowed over his lifetime, but he’s had growth, like a lot of growth. Taking partial/a whole lot of responsibility with MK and interacting with his friends more has helped him relearn what it means to be a part of a group, and MK has had a positive influence on him. As the lead(?) writer said on Twitter, he’s actively working on being more honest with MK, and is going to tell him everything. He wants to change and is trying to not let himself be held back from that by his past. Also he’s working on undoing everything’s he’s done that’s both directly and indirectly hurt others.

(Almost) everyone’s motivations against Monkey King- As I’ve seen several people point out, all the characters that have had a valid reason to hate Sun Wukong have shared their side of events, Wukong hasn’t. Presenting a very black and white picture on things.

(1) Macaque was scorned and abandoned, and wants his former sworn brother and best friend to feel even worse and be tortured by what he did. We know what he said happened, we saw how he saw Wukong delivering the killing blow, but we don’t see the strike connect, and he was shortly taken out of the afterlife/hell/the underworld by Lady Bone Demon. Revived to serve under her and give him a chance to get back at Monkey King- keeping his motivation going so he follows her game of chess to a T. It’s still very possible that Wukong didn’t kill him- the way he acted in Ep.9 in the first season when he sees Macaque suggests to me he thought Macaque slunk away after their fight to nurse his wounds and lay low for a loooong while. Macaque has also been pretty damn deceitful and used MK as his own pawn to secure his freedom (and also get back at Wukong.)

(2) Spider Queen wanted him to die and get him out of the way of her world domination, pretty simple revenge plot there. Dunno what else could be said for that.

(3) Lady Bone Demon was a person who sought to give mortals salvation from heaven’s actions and negligence, which twisted into wiping out everyone who walked all over those less fortunate and did not have the same privileges, and then just straight up total annihilation because everyone, at some point, would hurt others and make the world worse.

(4) Azure Lion, Golden-Winged Eagle, and Yellow Tusk Elephant. Sun Wukong’s brothers and former family. There’s a WHOLE lot there that Azure Lion is definitely leaving out on purpose (like his brothers were sealed away in the scroll to atone for their actions, but we don’t know what they did besides rebelling against heaven to earn such a punishment). He and his brothers make most of their hate about their leader turning their back on them and becoming part of the system/people that oppressed them. Valid reason to be upset and never forgive Wukong, because he either never told them what happened or he also withheld information. That said, the flashback of Wukong coming back with the JttW group is framed in a similar way to Macaque’s flashback- Monkey King comes in, there’s a fierce battle, and it ends with Wukong bearing down and hitting them with the staff. It’s even mirrored with MK’s fight against him, but we know MK was coming down to grab Monkey King and leave with his injured friends. Azure Lion could only see Wukong coming back to hurt him, and lashed out in the worst possible way, leading to destroying his friend and unable to take the blame.

The implications of Azure Lion taking the Jade Emperor down and becoming the new ruler of the Celestial Realm- Azure Lion and his brothers succeed at the current end of season 4, and he asserts himself as the new ruler. When he does, reality between all of the realms nearly tears itself apart, and we see Macaque, Nehza, and MK feel the effects of the sudden power shift. What that implies could possibly means their individual powers are affected, orrrr since they’re all celestial beings, their souls are linked to the Celestial Realm and they have some kind of sixth sense that alerts them to these changes. Now that Azure Lion has control and all of the powers of the Emperor, he might just attempt a total party wipe like Lady Bone Demon tried to do. Most definitely going to try to manipulate and take advantage of MK’s slew of commplicated feelings with his true origins, and what Monkey King has done to MK in the time they’ve known each other. 

Now for theories/guessing what’ll happen in the S4 special.

Wukong tells MK very early on that his body can’t handle him overexerting his powers, and now that everything is on the line, again, and he’s lost Wukong, again, he may just tear himself apart to set everything right, and sacrifice himself so his friends survive and Monkey King can come back. We can see it happening now, after fighting his literal demons and intrusive thoughts personified, and triggering his transformation from a mortal to the celestial monkey he’s (possibly) always been. I’ll say along with that he might be having a hard time adjusting because he’s been away so long- from Monkey King, from Flower Fruit Mountain, his birthplace- and even though the staff unlocked most of it, his powers have laid dormant for a very long time, and he’s had a short time to train plus very little time to adjust having so much back all at once. Like a muscle that’s atrophied, he’s got to build it back up.

One of MK’s flaws is his tendency for self sacrificing, and while he does think of what’s important for his wellbeing, he still puts others before him, to his detriment. Carrying the trauma from everything that’s happened over the past year, he may feel that giving up his powers or his own life is what he has to do to set everything right and atone for the accidents he caused.

Azure Lion has literally gone godmode, and there’s not gonna be much he and his brothers can do to make up for taking it too far. It’s also very muddy, some morally grey areas, super emotionally charged. Also didn’t know where else to fit this but damn was he selfish for taking Wukong’s broken pieces away and threatening to break them even more if MK tried to fight him again. Like dude, wow.

MK won’t be alone, but he’s going to be facing a hard choice to make. If Azure Lion & co. walk away, he may just attempt everything again, and then they’re all gonna be living under the fear of brutal revenge for undoing someone’s very big mistake that they feel they had every right to do; Monkie Kid team doesn’t stop the cycle, and Azure Lion can continue to be willfully ignorant

Putting them all back in the scroll is a temporary solution and would be a little antithetical to everything our heroes have done so far. A punishment sure, but that also continues the cycle, and very little is learned. No matter what, Azure Lion will have to be kept from perpetuating the cycle of hurt and I don’t think they’re going to nuke him out of existence a la LBD. That would also not line up with everything they’ve done.

I sincerely hope we do see Monkey King bounce back like he did in the final fight against LBD, though there’s the chance if S5 happens, it’ll be the quest to restore Monkey King and MK has to figure things out on his own/with the assistance of a slightly calmer but still rogue Macaque. Angst, solving mysteries, and bonding galore! (but really Flying Bark, I will not be able to handle that. I want my cheesy but still very good resolution of Wukong coming back at the end and further paving the way for him and MK to bond and discover why he was created, and by who. I want to see these two catch a break and be happy! And grow as a family!)

[wisteriagoesvroom]

hiya other michelin anon love of my life (i feel like we’re talking on a can and string rn) you’re soooo clever 💕💕

thinking abt when they’re established but not public (private but not secret 🫶) and oscar and lando are the only ones that really know the full extent of it. charles and pierre and alex just think they’re hooking up but landoscar have the threat of their careers being ended if they ever let it slip - not that max would ever actually throw his precious protégée under the bus like that.

it’s valentine’s day and they have a fucking busy service naturally and suddenly alex is sticking his head into the kitchen from front of house and going ‘shit, russell’s here - mate, you might not want to take that break i know it’s scheduled but-’ oscar and charles’ heads snap up and oscar knows better than to let charles say anything as max just nods and goes to take his chef’s whites’ top off and trade it for a white shirt. he passes back through the kitchen and everyone’s like wtf. wtf? wtf. we’re reallllly letting service drop after the article george published last week??

max throws an ‘it of course will be fine everyone, the service has been run really very well - charlie, take over and oscar sous please,’ before he’s going and sitting down with george for their valentine’s dinner <3 alex has been given their table bc he’s the best server and they thought it was just george dining to critique so he ends up serving max with a half smirk half outraged face. ‘mhmm mr russell of course, and for you, chef? well, i’ll have pierre over with some wine options for you immediately…’ and that’s how everyone finds out that they’re not JUST having hate sex

(charles debriefs with pierre after they’ve closed on just how outrageous it is that max didn’t tell them that he was SEEING not just fucking russell) (george writes an article critiquing some tiny aspect of the dish but in reality rests his hand on max’s thigh under the table and tells him that it was really rather good sweetheart and that you’re lucky your sous is so well trained princess)

i’m also so enamoured by the idea of max naming things on his menu as little inside comments that only him george or his team know. ‘tulle’ is a dessert they run in winter for a princess’ dress and ‘champs elysees’ for george’s flat or an elevation of the dish that george had ordered the first night they fucked.

i also love george begrudgingly keeping up with oscar’s career bc max has basically kitchen adopted him… doing one of his only ever complimentary pieces on mark webber and max verstappen’s protégée already working in a projected michelin resteraunt. the party when they earn their next star is insane (george is invited and serenaded with a wall of clippings of his best quotes from his critiques and has to pay for lando and oscar to get a cab home bc they’re both so drunk and giddy) (max cries when they get back to george’s flat bc this is the first star where it’s truly felt like his own and george has nothing but lovely things to say)

⭐️⭐️

new theory: is this just one person talking to the wall (me) cus if so that would actually be really funny

i am so fucking here for these details tho…. The menu?1?1?1?1?1? oooooo u cooked. Ok so:

—————

the hush of the restaurant and the conversations dying as THE max verstappen slides into the chair opposite george and they’re both like. hi. hi. and they talk to each other, perfectly aware that the entire restaurant is watching them link their fingers together as they peruse the wine list and murmur low to each other about grape acidity and seasonality. then pierre, who is the maître d, kicks the room back into motion with a smooth joke on a nearby table and suddenly everything is moving again, the world cranks back up and george and max get to be just two people in it existing, not the reputations and personas they’ve built up in the last ten years, not feeling a need to keep up appearances but actually just two diners connecting over great service and great food.

and later, the team cleans up and packs up. they all say their goodbyes. maybe george pulls up in his vintage lil car near the back and oscar’s smoking in the back alley with alex and they both wave at max on the way out.

“happy valentine’s day,” they say, a little teasingly to max. “practice safe sex!” oscar shouts, over the embers of his cig.

“shut the fuck up or i’ll put you both on tile scrub duty!” max yells back. the laughter follows max as he yanks open the car door and climbs in.

george rolls his eyes. but then the door closes, and the world goes silent. and he’s looking right at max.

“must you always be so incredibly filthy mouthed.”

“yeah?” max says, eyes flicking down to george’s mouth, which is already starting to part with surprise, at how hungry max is all the time for him, how strange but good they are together because of and not in spite of their differences. how obvious max’s need always is. not like george, always feeling a need to conceal, be unflappable. max who paints with every colour, in the strongest shade.

“but you like that so much about me.” max adds.

“and that’s our dilemma, isn’t it, choux?”

—————

wow where did that come from?? turns out maybe EYE love the Gax!chef AU too? ur all so inspiring go gax anons goooo.

[isobelleposts]

Understanding the Female Body: 'Breasts and Eggs' Review

by Isobelle Cruz [November 5, 2022]

ABOVE: Author Mieko Kawakami of 'Breasts and Eggs'

I am so glad to start off the month with a review of, by far, my favorite read this year. Although it took me a while to get myself to finish this book, Mieko Kawakami’s words stuck with me between those long days of setting the piece aside and always found their way back into my hands, where I would stick my nose in and devour her unique insights on the female body and the society that revolves around them.

Even with a quarter more left to be read, I had already decided earlier on that this would be my most cherished read of the year. It’s left me thinking several times about the world and pondering on situations that I had never thought of before. ‘Breasts and Eggs’ was able to educate me so much in its own entertaining and subtle way through its incredible storytelling.

“Hey, did you see that woman’s nipples?” Makiko asked. “No, why?” “They were really something.” Makiko let out a reverent sigh. “It’s a miracle for Asians to be born with nipples that pink.”

Page 53 of ‘Breats and Eggs’

I adore Kawakami so much for writing a book with such a great understanding of the female body without glossing over its hard and uneasy truths. Reading her words and shedding tears so easily made me realize how important it is for there to be a raw representation of femininity in media, especially for young people such as myself, who are cautious on exploring their bodies. Reading this book made me feel touched and understood in a way that I had not expected written words to make me feel before.

It was easy to imagine people turning away from this book, refusing to read it, or putting it down halfway through due to its lack of sugarcoating over serious topics that are often only dwelled on merely from its surface.

My breasts were in the middle of the mirror. Little just like Makiko’s. Brown and bumpy nipples. My hips had barely any shape, but there was flesh around my belly button, stretch marks curved around my sides. 

Page 147 of ‘Breasts and Eggs’

Mieko Kawakami, as always, has such descriptive writing that sets the tone of her worlds so well and was able to execute the travel through Natsuko’s mind and the transitions from external and internal storytelling with grace—which is what I found so uniquely interesting about the narration.

Despite feeling like it’s two unrelated stories put together and forced to be connected—as if the first half of the book were some idea that was too afraid to be let go of—there was something and everything about the writing that still had my heart glued to the story and kept myself reading until the end.

Then she let go of my hand, opened the tiny door, and slipped inside. Lying down among the sleeping children, she closed her eyes as well. No more hurting. No more pain. 

Page 357 of ‘Breasts and Eggs’

There were several times wherein reading made me feel as though I were drifting into a feverish dream, just as I had felt while reading ‘Heaven’ written by the same author. While having only read two of her books, Mieko Kawakami had already managed to set a distinctive feel to her writing, which makes it easy to identify her words amongst the millions of others out there. ‘Breasts and Eggs’ is a book that I feel would stick with me for a very long time, and will keep reminding me that my body is okay.

Which of Mieko Kawakami's works should I read next? All The Lovers In The Night or Ms Ice Sandwich?

[nobodywasneverhere]

(keep in drafts)

strangest dream last night — it was kind of a steelpunk society. Rotting, decaying steel ruins were all that existed in terms of structures, greenery didn’t exist, even just dead trees were a rarity. Water was far too abundant, it was constantly raining with flooding bad enough that only the tops of the steel corpses were livable on. But all the water gave way to a new ecosystem.

See, there were large holes that connected water-filled tunnels to each other, they were common enough to go diving in that even children partook in the activity.

In the dream, I was two people: a child and their mother. As the child I decided I wanted to swim in the tunnels, so I went in without my mother’s permission, swam, then came out safely through another entrance. I emerged below a steel tower, for what purpose it existed I do not know. An older man was there to greet me, maybe in his mid fifties? He said he was surprised that I could make it from the entrance I came in to all the way over here, and said something to the gist of “I’m going to take you back to your mother.”

Then I was in the mother’s perspective. Realizing her child was gone she went in/got shoved under the water and had to swim. The swim took much longer than was previously experienced for the child, though. It was suffocating, white particulates floating in murky blue water, straining to enter my body. I didn’t let them I kept holding my breath and swam up. And up. And up.

Then I reached a small pocket of air. It was dark and seemed small, but as I let my eyes adjust I realized it was much larger than it seemed — it was an entire submerged room. More than that: it was covered in life. Moss carpeted the floor, trees created a miniature forest, both tiny and never ending.

I didn’t have time to appreciate it though, my body was aching, so I pulled myself on land, and rested for a bit.

Then I heard movement, a rustle maybe? A scratching? But I heard it. I was outside my body at this point, so I could truly appreciate what stalked past my body.

A large dog-like creature, with a maw larger than my ribcage, and yellowed, decayed teeth that could make the sharpest razor look dull. Saliva dripped from its lips, its eyes were those of a lamprey’s, so utterly dead but still so full of malice. Its fur was unkempt and sharp, only half-hiding its emaciated figure, seemingly rusting and rotting like the rest of the world. Spindly legs with large paws, and claws that would rip through the steel under the moss that didn’t quite seem to exist anymore.

I wasn’t terrified, though. I was frozen, yes, but through some hubris, or failure of natural instincts, I thought I could hunt it. Pick up some sticks, grab a sharper than average piece of steel, and kill it.

Then it left. It walked past me, and I viewed the world from the mother’s eyes again. I don’t even remember what I did, but I had crafted the spear, and through some hunger or bloodlust or sheer stupidity of the human mind, was going to start looking for it.

Then I noticed something, it was hard to miss really. A shadow with a silhouette against a warm light.

It wasn’t the horrifying dog, however. The shadow showed a strong bipedal creature, almost werewolf like in nature, holding a spear. And I knew, somehow, instinctively knew, that It had the same idea as me, and that I would lose.

[end of dream]

[cuttingsetup]

How to Make Cricut Wedding Card: 4 Easy Steps

Are you getting married but can’t decide which Cricut wedding card will be best? I was hoping you wouldn’t stress as I will help you by teaching you how to make them out of the Cricut machine. Weddings are all about reuniting with close ones, singing their favorite songs and dancing.

I have been in the crafting business for the past two and a half years and have done tons of DIY projects for various events. But this is the first time I am going into custom-made wedding invitations. Thanks to Cricut machines, invitations will be a lot easier and a memorable craft for me.

Every crafter will agree that to make any craft out of a Cricut machine; they must have a specific set of tools to help them give the project the perfect shape. Follow the blog to learn in-depth about making personalized invitations.

Step 1: Creating a Cricut Wedding Card

To create your favorite invitation design, switch on your device and open the Design Space app. After that, tick New Project, press the Projects tool, and type Invitations into the search box. Now, select the design, read the details about the design, and then click the Customize option.

Following this, select the Cricut Foil section by going to the Operation section and selecting the Pen option. After making the changes, select the text and change its font, style, size, and color. Following this, press Weld, which is visible under the top right side of the canvas.

Once you are done after making all the changes on your Cricut wedding card, click the Make It option. Next, you need to check that the designs are placed properly in their respective places. After checking all the designs, hit the Continue option.

Step 2: Cutting Your Design

Following this, unbox your Cricut cutting mat and place your Cricut material on top of it with the help of the brayer tool. Then, check that you use the correct material and tools before cutting. After that, connect your devices, load the mat into the machine, insert the tools inside the Clamp, and turn on your cut-die machine. Now, you need to wait till the cutting process is going on. Once it is finished, start unloading your mat from the Cricut machine.

Step 3: Assemble Your Materials

Now, peel off the Cricut material from the mat and use a sharp item to remove tiny pieces of material from your Cricut wedding card design. Following this, take your Cricut scoring tool and start folding your envelope. After folding the envelope equally from all sides, stick the sides using strong adhesive glue. You can also use a Cricut glue gun to spread the glue equally. Also, repeat the same steps by folding and sticking the invitation pieces together. Keep the card and envelope aside for a few minutes until the glue ultimately gets dried up.

Step 4: Share Your Final Wedding Invitation

Last but not least, cut the extra sides of your Cricut wedding card and insert them inside the respective envelopes. Now, deliver them to your loved one’s address along with a box of sweets. Alternatively, you can personally visit and invite them to attend your wedding and give you blessings.

Conclusion

See how easy it was to make a Cricut wedding card with the help of Cricut machines. Apart from this DIY craft, you can also do other projects for your D-day with this cut-die machine within a few minutes. Projects that it can make are wine glasses, welcome signs, coasters, table runners, ring boxes, and so much more. You must be patient and focused while working on these projects using the Cricut craft machine.

Frequently Asked Questions

Question: Is Cricut Worth Making Wedding Crafts?

Answer: Absolutely; Cricut is the ultimate cutting machine you can prefer while making any craft for your wedding ceremony. This craft product can cut any material, tissue, or leather within a few seconds. Besides that, Cricut comes with designing software that helps make the design easier.

Question: What Cricut Accessories Do I Need to Make My Invitation Card?

Answer: The total number of Cricut accessories that will help you in making invitation cards more easily are as follows:

Question: Can I Make Money By Selling Cricut Wedding Invitations?

Answer: You can make money by making and selling DIY wedding invitations to your customers. To start your own business, you need to learn every detail about Cricut supplies and how they can be used to make cards. Moreover, you need to be very careful while making crafts and be aware of the customer’s expectations.

Visit: cricut.com/setup

install cricut design space app

www.cricut.com setup login

cricut.com setup mac

Source: https://cutting-setup.com/how-to-make-cricut-wedding-card-4-easy-steps/

[unikittybigbrightworldau]

OC “Wiki Pages”: Bia

—-

Nicknames (aka): Biabell

Affiliation: Pin Oak School of Natural Science

Family: Cedric (father), Silvia (mother), Mango (caregiver)

Friends: Kira, Allegra, Zora, Carnation

Color: Light pinkish-red, slate blue, red, bluish-gray, dark greenish-brown, dark brown, brown, beige, greenish-yellow

Special Features: Red ribbons in hair, antennae, great intellect

Character Influences: Tinker Bell (Tinker Bell), Donnie (TMNT: Mutant Mayhem)

Likes: Tinkering, inventing, cartoons, comic books, Teen Titans, pop music, acorn puffs

Dislikes: When people don’t listen to her advice, when people miss the point of something

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Birthday: May 13

Quote: “I’ve got it!”

—-

Debut: TBA

Headcanon Voice: Tinker Bell from the Tinker Bell movies

—-

Bia Raposta is a character in the Unikitty: Big Bright World series. She is a nerdy environmental technician and inventor from Botania. She is friends with Kira, Zora and Allegra.

—-

Physical Appearance: Bia was a pink and slate blue caterpillar when she was little. She is a red and bluish-gray red postman butterfly. Her hair is a light blue-gray, tied into pigtail-like styles with red ribbons. Her torso is the same color, and her chest seems to stick out a bit. Her hands, face and legs are light pinkish-red. Her eyes are very dark brown with a hint of green. Half of Bia’s wings are bright red while the other half is dark bluish-gray. Bia can’t feel her wings, so she flies with flight aids. They are made of bark, tree wood and greenish-yellow leaves. They are connected to her wrists with wooden rods. When she is flying, they expand into green leaf gliders in the back, with brown wooden pipes popping out from the bottom that lift her up. 

Personality: Bia is a problem-solving and headstrong fairy who can often be seen tinkering with things. She’s an inventor who is always coming up with a plan to fix something. She is typically the first in her friend group to begin tackling a challenge and is the most level-headed of the four. Like her fellow Botanians, she aims to find ways to preserve the life of the world. She always tries to make sure her creations don’t leave behind waste or use up too much energy. She is witty and clever as well. Bia cites her inspiration from the characters she follows in cartoons and comic books, expressing lots of enthusiasm for them. She also likes to listen to pop while she works.

Bia, while skilled in inventing machinery and gadgets, isn’t a genius, and she knows it. She’s just a nerdy cartoon lover. She tends to be feisty to the point where it’s argumentative. She just wants to be heard, so she can get annoyed when someone doesn’t listen to her. Bia is aware of her limitations and wouldn’t be herself without them.

Abilities: Bia is the most intellectual of her friend group and therefore the most level-headed as well. She’s very good at repairing broken things, inventing sustainable devices and machinery, and forming ideas based on her settings. She is also noted for being very environmentally aware, even if all of her knowledge is rooted in her favorite shows. 

—-

Trivia

In many ways, Bia is similar to Tinker Bell, who is her headcanon voice.

Her surname is based on her butterfly species, the red postman, and fuses the words red and postman.

Bia is 16 years old.

Bia's favorite food or snack is probably acorn puffs, as she often takes Kira out to get some after school.

Acorn puffs are tiny Botanian fairy desserts. They are acorn nuts broken down  into pieces which are then baked into fluffy puffs.

According to Jezabat, Bia would be a big fan of Teen Titans.

—-

In Other Languages

Arabic: بيا / "Baya"

Spanish: Bia

German: Bia

Swedish: Bia

Italian: Bia

Swahili: Bia

Portuguese: Bia

Korean: 비아 / “Bia”

Japanese: ビア / “Bia”

Chinese: 比亚 / “Bǐyǎ”

Polish: Bia

Greek: Μπέα / “Béa”

French: Bia

Russian: Биа / "Bia”

Hindi: बिया / “Biya”

Thai: บีอา / “Bīxā”

Turkish: Bia

[princehrry-writings]

Daddy?

happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I've been working on this for a couple weeks!! It's the longest one-shot I think I've ever written.

word count: 5180

please please please flood my inbox with your thoughts and comments!! i want to know what you think!!!

warnings: some swearing (i think), absent birth father, single mom, nothing too serious.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her.

or

Y/n is a single mom and Harry wants to be a part of the family.

.

.

.

Getting pregnant was definitely not something Y/n wanted to be doing at 20 years old. She had a boyfriend and the career of her dreams but as soon as the news broke, one of those things was no longer true. Her ex skipped town faster than she could even finish telling him she was pregnant, so Y/n was left to her own devices since her family was so far away.

She was a songwriter. She had worked with all the big names in the industry from Taylor Swift to All Time Low. She was known for being able to write in any genre, that’s what set her apart and why people were clawing at the chance to work with her.

And then she got pregnant. She kept writing songs until she was eight and a half months along but due to minor complications, her doctor had ordered her to stay home. So she did. She stayed home, had the baby, and raised her all by herself. Now that baby, whose name is Stella, is four years old and is traveling the world with her mom. Y/n had gone back to work when Stella was a year old. At first, she would leave her baby with a sitter, but eventually, she got to a point where Stella was old enough to come along to writing sessions and quietly color or play with toys in a corner. She really liked going to work with her mom. She got to see a bunch of cool places and meet a lot of nice people.

And one of those people was Harry Styles. Y/n had met him a few times back when he was with One Direction, had even tried to work with the band a few times but things never lined up right. But now he was making his second studio album and only wanted the best of the best to write with him so naturally, he called Y/n. Harry knew she had a kid but he didn’t expect her to bring said kid to a writing session. Harry didn’t really mind- he loves kids, but his friends had been known to curse a lot and he didn’t want to cause any harm to the child.

He made sure to give everyone a stern talking to, even though Kid already knew to hold his tongue (his little ones had repeated some colorful words a few times). He wanted everything to go right, needed it to. Y/n was more than just another songwriter.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Harry smiled as she walked into the studio. She smiled back, walking into his open arms for a hug.

“Thank you so much for having me, I’m super stoked to be working with you!” She said, slightly muffled by his neck. Harry looked down behind Y/n and saw a little girl that looked exactly like the woman currently in his arms looking right back up at him. When the two pulled away Harry was quick to kneel down to her height.

“And who might this be?” He said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t frighten her.

“Tell Harry your name baby,” Y/n brushed a stray piece of hair away from her daughter's face who shied away behind her mom’s leg.

“Stella,” the little girl mumbled, fidgeting with the jeans she hid behind. He felt his heart flutter. She was just so freakin cute.

“It’s lovely to meet you Stella, m’Harry!”

“You talk funny.” The child said, making Harry laugh and Y/n gasp, scolding her daughter for being rude while trying not to laugh at her blunt comment.

“Stella Rose, that was not a very nice thing to say!” Y/n softly reprimanded.

“Sowwy Hawwy,” He chuckled, letting her know he forgave her. Although he wasn’t mad, he understood Y/n had to teach her not to say things like that even if they were funny.

When Stella had settled at a table out of the way of the adults in the room with her coloring book and a juice box, the work began. Y/n and Harry sat at a piano bench ( he hoped she couldn’t hear his pounding heart) while Kid and Mitch, along with Jeff, sat scattered around the other furniture in the studio.

“So, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve been sitting on that I think you might like. You can look through this and see if there's something that catches your eye.” Y/n said, handing Harry a notebook. She tried to ignore the tingle she felt run up her arm when their fingers brushed. He flipped around the pages, noticing random little doodles in the corners and in between lines, and the somewhat messy but readable handwriting. He thought it was cute how she connected her s’s to her t’s and k’s when she wrote.

One page, in particular, caught his attention.

Golden, Golden, Golden

As I open my eyes

Hold it, focus

So you take me back to the light

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken

So you wait for me in the sky

Brown my skin just right

“Is this a verse or a chorus?” He asked, pointing it out to her. She shrugged saying she didn’t really know yet but it would probably be a verse.

“I like it a lot,” He said and she smiled, picking up her guitar and strumming it to the tune she had thought of for the words. He listened and nodded along, already getting ideas for where to go next.

“I like the golden thing. I think that could be a good hook, something like we’re so golden,” Kid spoke up, tapping his fingers along to what she was playing.

“Or you’re so golden,” Mitch suggested. Harry and Y/n’s eyes widened at the same time, both looking up at each other when they heard the line.

“You’re so golden, you’re so golden…” Y/n hummed.

“I’m out of my head, and I know what you said about hearts get broken,”

“How about I’m out of my head and I know that you’re scared because hearts get broken,”

“I like that better, yeah!” Harry smiled, nodding along to the beat.

Y/n looked over 30 minutes later to see Stella had sprawled out on the floor with her arms folded beneath her head, first finger stuck into her mouth, and she smiled, breathing out a laugh.

“She’s so precious,” Harry murmured from beside you. Your gaze found his and the smile on your face widened a little bit.

“She is, isn’t she.” She said, pride present in her eyes.

“Looks just like you as well,”

“Yeah thank god, I don’t know what I would have done if she had ended up looking like her sperm donor,” Malice dripped from the end of her phrase. Y/n couldn’t even entertain the idea of her looking like the man who helped create her. That nerve was still a little raw, not because she had any remaining feelings, but because he had abandoned not only her but the beautiful baby girl who was napping not 15 feet away from her. She figured they were better off without him, yet her heart always shattered a little when Stella asked if she had a daddy like the people she sees on tv.

“I couldn’t imagine finding out the woman I loved was pregnant and then leaving her, any real man would have stayed.” His eyes were genuine, which she appreciated. Most people would say they felt sorry for her, pity dripping from their gaze, but she didn’t need pity, didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. But what Harry said was out of pity, he just honestly couldn’t understand how anyone would abandon a child.

“Yeah well, I guess I just wasn’t the woman he loved.” She said, looking back at her baby. Stella made all of that pain from when he disappeared worth it.

Harry wanted to be able to take that pain away.

---

“Hey I know it’s late, but I have this idea and I want you to hear it,” Harry’s raspy voice chimed through the speaker of Y/n’s phone. She glanced at the time, reading 1:30 AM, and sighed.

“Ok,”

“Come open the door,” He said.

“Wait what? You’re here?”

“Yeah, come on. It’s cold out here.”

“Ugh, hold on,” The woman sighed, hanging up and tip-toeing out of her room so her footsteps wouldn’t wake the sleeping four-year-old in the next room over. Her door was open and she was a light sleeper.

The door swung open and Harry stood there with a small smile on his face, burrowing as deep into his coat as he could to shield himself from the cold air outside.

“Hi!” His cheeky smile made Y/n’s heart flutter.

This was the first of many times he would show up at her place in the middle of the night.

---

Another night of Harry coming over late with a song idea he couldn’t wait to show Y/n, although now it was more he would come over after Stella fell asleep and the two would watch movies and talk, and sometimes write songs (even though the album was done).

The pair were perched on the couch in a heated conversation about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza (it does and that is a fact not an opinion) when the sound of little footsteps caught their attention. They both looked up from where they sat at the sound of loud crying coming down the stairs, seeing a small child with tears barreling down her face, cheeks flush an angry red, first finger stuck in her mouth, teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Y/n cooed, getting up and sweeping her into her arms. She went and sat back down on the couch, cradling the baby to her chest, brushing her hair out of her face, and rocking her back and forth.

“Scawwy dweam mommy,” She hiccuped into her mom’s neck, where she hid her face. Her tiny hands clutched onto her shirt, finger stick tucked between her lips.

Harry held back a coo at the little girl, feeling himself fall further and further for the little family of two sitting before him. He hadn’t been able to take his mind off of them since that first day he met Stella. He’d always had a schoolboy crush on Y/n since they first met all those years ago but knew it was one-sided when she introduced her boyfriend one of the last times they had seen each other. As fate would have it though, they found their way back to each other. Neither of them could deny the feelings they held, but Y/n was scared to bring someone into the picture because she didn’t want Stella to get attached to someone who wouldn’t be permanent. She was lucky her ex left before he ever got the chance to meet Stella, the kid had no clue what she was missing, therefore didn’t have any pain due to her absent father.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t imagine Harry stepping into that role. But she couldn’t ask that of him. He was at a time in his career where he didn’t have time to be the father of a four year old.

But life is full of surprises.

“Hawwy.” The baby whimpered and crawled off of Y/n’s chest, into his lap and snuggled her head right into him like it was where she was meant to be all along. His heart just about burst when the little girl fisted his shirt, tucking herself into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, cradling her into him and rocking her back and forth like her mother had been only moments ago.

Stella calms down almost immediately, to Y/n’s surprise. It usually takes her a while to console her baby from bad dreams, but all Harry had to do was hold her, and boom, no more tears.

“You alright petal?” He cooed into her hair, soothing his hand up and down her back to keep her calm. She nodded, letting out a huge yawn and closing her eyes, falling back asleep in his arms.

Y/n was astonished. Stella had never fallen asleep on anyone but her mom or her grandmother. She’s known Harry for a few months and was acting like he’d been there her whole life.

“Wow… she loves you.” Y/n whispered, not really meaning for him to hear but he did and his smile gave her the impression that he loved her too. But Stella wasn’t the only one he felt such affections for.

“Y/n....” He starts after a moment of silence, “I know this sounds crazy because we’ve only truly known each other for a few months… but I’ve had feelings for you for years. I missed my opportunity when you got with your ex but I’m here now, and I love you, and I love Stella, and I would do anything to stay in both of your lives if you’d have me. I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for her as well.” His confession shocked the woman sitting across from him.

Y/n was quiet, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought while she took in what he was saying. Trying her best to keep her fantasies of playing house with him at bay, she spoke.

“Harry, as much as all of that sounds lovely, you’re about to start press for the album and then go on tour. You’re not gonna have time to be in a relationship, and as much as I wish I could just jump into something like that, I can’t. I have her to think about…” She gestured to the toddler sleeping on him.

“She needs consistency, her life is already hectic enough.”

“So come with me!” He spouted, and then retracted a bit realizing he could wake Stella up.

“What?”

“Come with me! You two travel around already, so come on the press tour with me and then come on the big tour with me! I know this sounds impulsive and it’s probably the craziest thing I’ve ever said in my life ever, but I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know what I want Y/n, and that’s to be a part of this family. I want to be a part of your lives!”

“Harry, I-”

“Please Y/n. Give me a chance! I won’t let you down!” The gleam in his eyes shows her that he’s serious. He really does want this. Harry just hopes that Y/n can see just how willing he is, how much it would mean to him to have (what he already affectionately considers to be) his girls with him on tour.

It’s quiet, only sounds of Stella’s even breaths and the light noise of her sucking on her finger fill the room. Eventually, Y/n gathers her thoughts, mind made up.

“We’ll try it out… see how it goes….” She said, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding on to. Harry’s smile grew tenfold at her confession, reaching over and bringing her face closer to his to kiss her lips, careful not to wake the baby in his arms.

He had never been happier, Harry decides, than he is right now.

---

“Hawwy?” Stella’s voice catches Y/n’s attention from where she sits on the plane, in between her and Harry. She turns her little head to the man sitting in the aisle seat, big round eyes staring right into his.

“What is it, lovebug?” He asks, pushing her wild baby hairs away from her eyes. Y/n did her very best not to coo at the two of them. Harry had fallen perfectly into step with the mother and daughter, like this duo had been a trio all along. She was still hesitant to think of him as a father figure for Stella though, just because if things went south somehow, she didn’t want her baby suffering a loss like that (a second time).

Stella’s little fists rubbed at her tired eyes. She let out a small ‘hmph’ and laid her head on Harry’s arm, wrapping her own little arms around his.

“Awe you my daddy?” She asked and Y/n choked on her spit, looking back over at the toddler.

“Stella, baby-”

“I would love to be your daddy lovebug, but that’s not really up to me…” He spoke and glanced up at Y/n quickly, trepidation clear in his eyes. Harry was afraid he might overstep. Sure he knew that things were still new between him and Y/n but he wanted nothing more than for Stella to think of him as her dad.

“Who’s it up to?” Y/n could tell she was about to fall asleep but was fighting it in order to get her answers. She had adjusted to a more fast pace schedule quite nicely. She slept through most plane and car rides and absolutely loved being backstage at concerts. Harry thought she looked so adorable with her big noise-canceling headphones on. They had been on the road for a few months now, and it had been 8 months since Y/n decided to give him a chance.

“It’s up to mummy, baby.” He answered, his fingers tangling into his chestnut curls in a futile attempt to keep them out of his face.

Stella’s head immediately whipped to look at her mom, who sat frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do.

“Mommy, is Hawwy my daddy?” She repeated her question. Y/n had a feeling that Stella thought Harry was her real dad, the one that her mom didn’t like to talk about. She had to make sure there was no confusion.

“Not like you're thinking he is, baby. He’s not your birth dad, he didn’t help mommy make you, but if you want him to be your daddy, then that’s ok with me.” Y/n locked eyes with the man sitting across from her with a smile on his face. She was glad that they were flying private because she really didn’t need anyone ruining this moment for them. All her fears of this not working out felt stupid now.

How could she ever think that things with Harry wouldn’t work out? He was right where he belonged.

---

“Daddy!”

“Baby!” Harry knelt down to catch the running (almost) 5 year old, picking her up and spinning her around in his arms. They were in England for two weeks on tour. One for shows, and one so that Y/n and Stella could meet Harry’s mom and sister for the first time as a part of the family. Y/n had met them before as “a friend of Harry’s” many years ago, but they had never met her as Harry’s girlfriend, and they hadn’t met Stella.

Currently, Harry was in the middle of a show and Stella had just escaped her mothers arms side stage in favor of running to her dad. Y/n still couldn’t get over saying that. Harry is Stella’s dad. She doesn’t think that will ever get old.

No one knew how serious the relationship between Y/n and Harry was. The public knew they were together (after a very vague post on instagram of the mother/daughter duo napping with the caption “my girls”). Many people thought this was a PR stunt, just because it was so unlike Harry to post something like that. But he had actually confirmed in an interview that, yes, he was in a relationship with the songwriter and it was pretty serious. That was all he chose to say, in favor of keeping his secrecy, as he so famously loves to do.

What came as a shock to the audience was what the child had called Harry. They all knew about Stella, obviously, but no one would have thought that this child would think of him as her father. A lot of people didn’t like thinking about Harry being a father.

“What are you doing out here baby?” He said into her ear, making sure he could hear her over the loud noise of the audience. Most of them loved getting glimpses into his life, so the crowd was excited to see Stella out on stage and many thought it was adorable that she already thought of him as her dad.

“Missed you.” She said into his neck. The microphone had somehow picked up their little exchange and the whole crowd sighed a collective “awe” when she said that. She was perched on his hip with her little arms wrapped around his neck, her favorite place if she had to choose one. She was pretty small for a 4-year-old, most people usually thought she was younger.

Harry chuckled and saw Y/n standing there with a smile on her face. Mitch was giggling at the exchange and kept glancing back at Sarah with a knowing look of “That’s going to be us soon,” written on his face.

“I missed you too lovebug, but I’m in the middle of a show! I gotta send you back to mumma.” He said. Stella didn’t like that though, because as soon as the words left his lips she was clinging to him like he was her life force and the tears began streaming down her face. She didn’t like having to share her daddy. She just wanted to be held by him right now, and she’d be damned if she got anything but her way.

This amused everyone, the child's insistence to be in her father's arms, so he sighed and bent to her will because how could he say no to his baby girl?

So he walked over to her mom and got her headphones, slipping them on her, and walked back to his microphone with her on his hip, ready to start the next song.

“Harry and Stella” was trending on twitter the very next morning. No one could get enough of the father-daughter duo.

---

Y/n hadn’t been this nervous since she was about to give birth to Stella. She stood with her baby in her arms as Harry opened the door to his childhood home, announcing to his mom and sister that they were there. She had to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans more than once.

Anne rushed out from wherever she had been, greeting the three of them. Stella had met Anne via FaceTime many times so it was not news to her (or Gemma) that Harry had stepped into the role of Stella’s father. She will admit she was surprised at first but then she was reminded that Harry had been in their lives for almost a year before Stella had asked the question. It wasn’t something that was rushed into.

Anne was very excited to be meeting her grandbaby and was very excited to meet the girl that had made her a grandmother.

Stella got shy, not being used to seeing “Nana” in person. Gemma had emerged from her spot in the kitchen as well, greeting everyone.

“Hello, my loves! How was the trip?” Anne said, kissing both of them on the cheek, her hand gently caressing the child's cheek in an attempt to get her out of her shell. Once she realized that this was her Nana that was standing before her, Stella reached out for Anne, silently asking to be held by her. Anne jumped at the chance, sweeping the baby into her arms and giving her a big hug, kissing her on the forehead multiple times, not being able to quell her affection for her first grandchild.

“It was good mum, Stell slept the whole way and traffic was pretty light,” Harry said, slipping his hand into his girlfriend’s, brushing his thumb back and forth trying to help calm her anxieties. For whatever reason, Y/n was worried that Gemma and Anne wouldn’t like her because she had come into their son/brother's life with a child, but it was clear that the two ladies loved the idea of Harry being Stella’s father.

“Oh, that's lovely!” She smiled, cuddling Stella impossibly closer to her. Y/n felt most of her worries melt away seeing the woman with her baby.

She felt silly for thinking Anne would be anything but happy.

---

Anne would not put Stella down for anything. The two were attached at the hip every waking second. Y/n was actually starting to miss her baby, but she appreciated getting to spend time with Harry without having to keep an eye on their little one. Gemma was absolutely smitten with Stella as well. She was very excited to be “Auntie Gem” as Stella had quickly adapted to calling her. Stella was very happy as well. She had never been around so much family in her whole life. She’d been so used to just her and her mom, and then just them and Harry, but now she had two whole grandma’s all to herself and an auntie she gets to call her own, something she never knew she was missing, that Y/n never thought her baby would get to have.

Harry was so happy to see his baby with Anne and Gemma. They had been bumped to spot number 3 and 4 on his favorite girl list, with Stella and Y/n taking spots 1 and 2. They didn’t mind one bit.

“Daddy, can we watch a movie?” Stella jumped up onto his lap as he and Y/n sat on the couch, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Y/n smiled at the girl, tightening her grip around Harry’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course we can lovebug! Go get Nana and auntie Gem and we’ll all pick one out together!” He replied, petting her wild baby hairs out of her eyes just like he always did.

“Auntie Gemma said to ask you if we could watch…” She paused for a second, her little finger tapping on her chin like she couldn’t remember what she was gonna say. Suddenly, she was up and running back to the hallway she had just come from. Y/n and Harry heard little whispers before she came running back out and plopped back onto Harry’s lap, on ‘oof’ erupting from him.

“This Is Us!” She finally said. Harry’s face dropped as he looked behind them to see Gemma standing there, trying to hold back her laughter. Y/n just started cackling and Stella was giggling even though she had no idea what was going on.

“Daddy’s in that movie baby,” Y/n finally calmed down enough to say to her daughter. The little one’s eyes lit up, her hands clasped underneath her chin. This was what she did when she wanted her daddy to say yes to her because she knew he couldn’t resist how adorable she was.

“Please please please!!!!!!” She whined, leaning in to place her forehead against Harry’s. She knew exactly how to get him. He caved every single time.

“Yeah, fine. We can watch it!” He finally said and all three girls cheered. Anne came in at the noise wondering what was going on.

“What’s all this?” She asked and Stella ran up to her, pulling on her

“We watching Daddy’s movie Nana!” She said, jumping up and down with a glowing beam on her face.

“Oh, are we now? Which one?” Anne asked and Stella paused.

“Daddy, how many movies awe you in?” She came back and crawled into his lap. She still had trouble saying her r’s. Her and Harry were working on it.

“Two, lovebug. But one of them you can’t watch until you’re older. It’s too scary f’you.” He said, cuddling his baby into his chest. She put on a little pout hearing that. She didn’t like when her daddy told her no, but this was something he wasn’t gonna budge on.

“Ok,” She sighed. All the adults thought this was adorable.

So they all settled in and watched the movie. Harry had a permanent blush on his face and Stella would jump up and down every time he was on the screen.

“Nana look!! That’s you!!” Anne laughed and nodded to her granddaughter.

“Yes, it is baby!”

“Mommy, why aren’t you in this movie?” She asked and everyone giggled.

“Me and Daddy didn’t know each other very well back then, baby.” Y/n laughed. Stella didn’t really understand but she didn’t say anything else.

The last few days had worn her out and that became very obvious when Harry looked down and saw his baby asleep on his chest, her first finger stuck in her mouth just like it always was when she fell asleep.

“Love, I’m gonna go lay her down, and then I’ll be right back,” Harry whispered, cradling the sleeping girl in his arms and slowly standing up. Y/n nodded, kissing his cheek before he left.

“He’s so good with her!” Gemma cooed, her face lighting up seeing her brother with his kid. A sight she was still kind of getting used to seeing.

“He really is…” Y/n smiled, “It was pretty instant too. Anytime he’d come over and she was still awake, he’d insist on putting her to bed, reading to her, singing to her, he’d bring her toys. She’s had him wrapped around her little finger since he first laid eyes on her.”

“That’s so precious,” Anne spoke up, coming to sit next to her, wrapping Y/n in her warm embrace.

“I can’t wait until you two get married!” Y/n laughed at Gemma’s confession, snuggling into Anne.

“All he has to do is ask, I’m ready to say yes!” What none of the girls knew was that Harry was standing right outside the living room, hearing everything that was being said. His mind raced back to his suitcase where a velvet box sat tucked away between all of his clothes.

He was hesitant to bring the idea up because it had only been a year, but the saying when you know, you know he thought.

He came back into the living room, acting none the wiser, sitting on the other side of the girl he was going to marry (she just didn’t know it yet), and cuddled into her just as she had cuddled into his mom.

“Daddy,” A small voice broke through the now quiet hum of the tv.

“Lovebug, what are you doing back up?” He asked, lifting the sleepy little thing into his lap.

“Scawwy dweam, daddy.” She said and he pouted, pulling her closer into his chest and snuggling her back to sleep.

Harry was exactly where he belonged in life. With his baby girl in his arms, and his Love by his side.

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Ice Cream

A Stranger Things Imagine

Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Scoops Ahoy has a new regular, and somehow Robin keeps finding herself alone with the girl.

A/N: I got the idea for this while listening to the song Ice Cream by Blackpink and Selena Gomez, so it is loosely inspired by that (very loosely). Hope you like it!

Masterlist

Her diamond tennis bracelet clinks against the clear plastic ice-cream cooler as she taps her fingers and studies the flavors inside. Robin stands on the other side of the cooler, stick-straight. She doesn’t know where to look, so she’s looking everywhere except at her. At Y/N Y/L/N. 

“Hmmm,” Y/N says, tapping faster now. “What do you recommend? The Caramel Swirl or the Mint Chocolate Chip?”

“Well, the Caramel Swirl is more popular, but I like the Mint Chocolate Chip better because of the little chocolate chip pieces. They’re so tiny and cute, and they freeze with the ice cream so they add a little bit of a crunch, and…” Robin trails off when she makes eye contact with Y/N and sees the amused smile on the other girl’s face. “Sorry, I have this problem where I don’t know when to stop talking... My friend Steve says it’s because I ‘don’t understand social cues’ and… I’m doing it again. Sorry.” Robin ducks her head to hide her burning cheeks and busies herself with cleaning a non-existent smudge off of the counter. Y/N chuckles. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind it. I’ll take a scoop of the Mint Chocolate Chip in a waffle cone, please.” 

Afraid she’ll start rambling again, Robin hums her acknowledgment and starts scooping. She wraps a napkin around the base of the cone and hesitates. 

“Do you want some chocolate on top? We have this new stuff that hardens into a shell around the ice cream, it’s called Magic Shell, actually, and I think it’s really good on the Mint Chocolate Chip. Um, it’s supposed to be an extra twenty-five cents but I won’t charge you since it’s your first time here.”

“Sure, yeah, I’d love to try it. Thanks!”  Y/N’s face brightens and Robin feels a familiar heat pooling on her cheeks. 

“Cool, cool.” She turns around to pour the chocolate sauce on top and internally scolds herself for being weird. Y/N’s smile widens when Robin hands over the cone. 

“That’s, uh, one-seventy-five,” Robin says, and she tries to steady her uneven breathing but Y/N bites through the Magic Shell and dips her tongue into the hole it makes to scoop up the creamy, green ice cream with her tongue, and suddenly Scoops Ahoy feels like a sauna and Robin’s afraid she’ll pass out on the spot. 

Y/N reaches into her small white purse and pulls out a shiny silver credit card. Their fingers brush, just for a second, as Robin takes it from her, and Robin is pretty sure her heart stops for a solid minute. 

“Here you go,” Robin mutters as she hands the card back, holding on to one corner with the tips of her fingers so their hands won’t touch again. She will definitely drop dead if that happens. 

“Thanks!” Y/N says. She tucks the card back into her purse and takes another bite of her ice cream. “The Mint Chocolate Chip is really good, and you’re right, the Magic Shell is perfect on it. Thanks for the recommendation.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal, it’s kind of my job to know everything about ice cream. But, uh, I’m glad you like it!” 

“I should probably get going, my friends are waiting for me at Wet Seal. See you around?”

“Yes! Yeah, um, I’ll be around. Well, I’ll be here, mostly, but I guess you’ll be around and I will be around… here.” Robin winces at the babble that escapes her lips; she’s pretty sure whatever neurons that are supposed to connect her brain to her mouth are completely fried at this point. 

Y/N smiles and wiggles her fingers in a cute little wave before she leaves the store with her half-eaten ice cream and Robin’s heart. Robin watches as she walks towards the other side of the mall, and when Y/N finally disappears from view, she collapses onto the counter with a groan. 

“How are things going, slugger?” Steve asks, sounding smug as he saunters into the store. Robin answers with another groan and props her head up on her folded arms to glare at him. 

“Where the fuck have you been? Your break was over ten minutes ago!” She scolds, reaching out to thump him on the back of the head when he joins her behind the counter. 

“I was on my way back, I swear, but then I saw Y/N Y/L/N walk in and I hid behind that fake tree instead.” Steve gestures to the giant potted Bonsai tree in the middle of the seating area across from the store. 

“Why would you do that to me? You know I’ve liked her forever!”

“And that’s exactly why I did it! I wanted to give you some time alone with her to work your magic.” Steve wiggles his fingers at her, earning him a stern glare. 

“I don’t have magic, Steve! In case you forgot, you’re the one that’s good at talking to girls. I just get all flustered and sweaty and say whatever stupid shit I’m thinking!” Robin points to her forehead, where her bangs are damp underneath her Scoops Ahoy hat. 

“Well I can’t wingman you, she’s not going to let her guard down around me. But maybe, if she suspects that you’re also,  you know, she’ll open up to you.”

Their argument is interrupted when a family of five walks in with a screaming toddler and the most complicated order in Scoops Ahoy history (or, at least that’s what it feels like to Robin). 

“This conversation isn’t over,” Robin growls under her breath as she fills a kiddie cup with Superman ice cream. Steve ignores her and makes small talk with the mom, using his charm to try and score some extra tip money. 

Of course, it works, and she stuffs a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar with a wink in his direction. Robin rolls her eyes. Sometimes, it’s really annoying being friends with Steve Harrington. 

Y/N shows up again the next day, and Steve suddenly remembers that a shipment of cones was dropped off that morning and needed to be put away. Robin suspects that he procrastinated on purpose, but she can’t prove it, and she really can’t think about it now because Y/N’s wearing a bright green tennis dress with matching sunglasses perched on her head, and her light pink lip gloss is sparkling under the harsh overhead lights and she looks so cute. Robin wants to scream. 

“Oh hi! You’re back! I guess that Mint Chocolate Chip was just too good, huh?” Robin says with a chuckle when she realizes that it’s been, like, a full minute and she still hasn’t said anything. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is, but I’ve got such a sweet tooth this summer,” Y/N says. Robin detects a hint of something beneath the cheerful overtones of her words, but she’s not very good at figuring out subtext so she’s not sure what it means. 

“Well, then you’ve come to the right place because sweet is all we’ve got! Actually, the Butter Pecan is kind of salty, but some people like the whole sweet-and-salty thing. Especially dads. Dads are like 90% of the people who order Butter Pecan. But anyways, enough about the Butter Pecan, um, what can I get for you today?”

“I really liked the Magic Shell yesterday. What other flavors is it good on?” 

Robin is so busy running through the entire list of flavors and the pros and cons of putting Magic Shell on them that she doesn’t notice the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes or the slight twitch in the corners of her lips.

“…. but, after Mint Chocolate Chip, of course, I think the Peanut Butter is your best bet because the chocolate makes it more like a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, and who doesn’t like those?” Robin pauses for barely a second before she realizes something and has to clarify. “Well, I guess probably not people who are allergic to peanuts. You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you? Because if you are then I could’ve just potentially killed you and that would be really embarrassing.”

“No, I’m not allergic to peanuts. The Peanut Butter sounds great, thanks.” Y/N’s laugh is soft and delicate, just like her, and it’s sweet enough to melt all the ice cream in the cooler. Robin’s not entirely sure what swooning is, but she’s pretty confident she swoons 

“Okay, cool, um, do you want that in a waffle cone again?”

“You remembered!” Y/N sounds genuinely excited by this as if Robin remembering that she ordered a waffle cone yesterday is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. 

“I try to remember all our best customers.” Robin manages to stop herself there and even has the nerve to wink at Y/N before she turns her focus to scooping. Bending over the cooler helps calm the heat rising on her cheeks. She can hear Y/N heels clicking against the linoleum floor as she rocks back and forth on her feet as she waits for her ice cream. When Robin hands her the finished cone, she swears there’s a hint of a blush on Y/N’s own face, but she could just be imagining that because she wants so badly to believe it’s true. 

“One-seventy-five, again,” Robin says, and Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“I thought Magic Shell was an extra twenty-five cents?” She asks, pausing with her hand in her purse. 

“It’s on the house today.” Robin knows she’ll never charge Y/N for the Magic Shell as long as it continues to make the girl smile like Robin’s the only other person in the world. 

“Oh, well, thank you!” She holds out her credit card and this time, Robin brushes their hands together on purpose. Since she knows what to expect, it doesn’t overwhelm her like it did yesterday, but the electricity between their skin is just as intoxicating. When Y/N’s gone, she brings her hand to her lips to try to absorb the tingles from her fingers. 

That’s how Steve finds her when he finally emerges from the back room, looking like a lovesick idiot. It’s a good look on her, he thinks. She deserves to have the romance-movie clichés that he’s taken for granted, to have her heart flutter and her palms sweat while she talks to a cute girl. He just hopes he’s reading Y/N right and that she feels the same way about Robin. 

“So, I’m guessing it went well?” He asks with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Shut up,” she mumbles, tearing her hand away from her lips and shoving it deep in the pocket of her skirt. Oh yeah, it definitely went well, Steve says to himself. 

Y/N shows up almost every day that summer, and every time, Robin feels her confidence building and her nerves melting away. True to her word, she never charges Y/N for the Magic Shell, but Y/N always puts a five-dollar bill in the tip jar, so really, what’s the harm? And no one’s called her out on it yet, not even Steve, who now only disappears sometimes instead of every time Y/N shows up. (“It’s starting to look weird!” Robin had said one day after Y/N left and Steve reappeared. “She knows you work here; she’s asked me about you before!”) Steve’s heart swells with pride every time Robin manages to flirt with Y/N without rambling on about something random immediately afterward, and he’s glad he’s stopped hiding, because it gives him a chance to watch Y/N up close, and he’s now ninety-nine percent sure that she’s into Robin. 

One day, Y/N doesn’t show up, and it’s not a big deal because she’s missed a day here and there before. Steve pretends not to notice the way Robin’s face falls as the clock ticks closer to the end of their shift without an appearance from Y/N. He’s surprised by his own disappointment; Y/N has become a staple at Scoops Ahoy, and he’s grown to love her dry sense of humor and the way she laughs at everything Robin says (even though, really, Robin’s not that funny). 

But then another day passes, and another, and Robin starts snapping at the customers. 

“Robin, chill, I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she just went on vacation or something,” Steve says, trying to reassure her. 

“Or she figured out that I like her and it freaked her out. She’s probably laughing about me on a yacht with all her rich friends, kissing stupid boys and --” 

“She’s definitely not kissing boys.” Robins's eyes widen and her head whips around to look at Steve. 

“How do you know that?”

“I asked around.” He shrugs, trying to act casual. “No one’s ever seen her with a guy. At least, not like that.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s…like me! Maybe her parents are weird about that sort of thing or…” Steve clears his throat and tries to discreetly point behind her. Robin trails off and slowly turns around to see Y/N standing at the counter with a sheepish smile. 

“I’m going on my break,” Steve calls over his shoulder as he hops over the counter and leaves the store. Robin vows to kill him when he gets back for leaving her alone with Y/N who might have overheard everything she just said. 

“Uh, hi, sorry about that,” Robin says. “Steve and I were just talking about this movie we watched the other day. It was crazy, this girl wanted to cut her hair short but her parents were so mad about it and…” She deflates a little, giving up on the fake movie plot and huffing out a breath that makes her bangs flutter. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Y/N says, reaching across the counter to grab Robin’s hand. Okay, now Robin thinks that she’s going to die for real. Y/N’s hands are soft but her grip is firm and confident and Robin has never held anything that felt so right before. “I should’ve called or something, but I got really sick and I could barely get out of bed. My mom had to help me get to the bathroom to throw up, but one time she didn’t make it in time and I puked all over myself, and… now I’m rambling.” She’s biting her lip and looking down at their intertwined hands, trying not to make eye contact with Robin because she’s scared of what she might see (or not see). But Robin gives her hand a gentle squeeze and reaches across the counter with her free hand, using two fingers to tip Y/N’s head up so their eyes meet. Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes are wide and watery, swimming with uncertainty, while Robin’s are bright with dilated pupils. She’s trying not to smile (but she’s failing), and Y/N’s face melts from worry into a mirror image of Robin’s. 

“It’s okay. I mean, I was worried about you, but I’m just glad you’re feeling better now.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” Y/N’s smile is cheeky and Robin wants to lean in and kiss it off her face, but the mall is busy and hoards of people are streaming past the windows in front of the store. 

“You heard that?” Robin cringes because her lovesick worrying was honestly pretty embarrassing. 

“Yeah, but it’s okay because I am like you. At least, I think I am, if you are what I think you are.” Speaking in euphemisms is getting really frustrating, so Robin drops Y/N’s hand and jumps over the counter, making a beeline for the door. She glances to the left and right to make sure no one’s looking at her before she pulls the door shut and flips the sign to ‘Closed.’ Y/N is confused at first, but when she realizes what Robin’s doing, a whole herd of butterflies takes flight in her stomach. She pulls a mirror out of her purse and double-checks that her lip gloss isn’t smudged, and just manages to shove it away before Robin is back and tugging her into the back room. 

Y/N barely registers what it looks like because as soon as the door swings shut behind them, Robin is pushing her against it. They’re standing so close that with every inhale their chests touch and with every exhale, Robin can feel Y/N’s hot breath against her face. Robin leans in until their lips are almost touching. She can smell the faint strawberry of Y/N’s lip gloss and she just barely manages to keep herself from leaning in to lick it off. 

“You’re not contagious, right?” She asks in a sheepish whisper. “It’s just, I can’t afford to miss work and Steve would probably kill me if I left him to man the shop alone, even though he does it to me all the time because he wants to give me time to flirt with you. I guess that worked out, though, so maybe that’s not the same thing…” 

“Robin?” Y/N interrupts her. Her voice is low and raspy and Robin’s legs nearly give out when she imagines Y/N whispering dirty things against her ear. “Kiss me.”

“Okay, yep, I can definitely do that.” Robin takes a deep breath to calm her nerves and then closes the gap between them, pressing her lips to Y/N’s. Her strawberry lip gloss tastes even better than it smells, and it’s surprisingly not sticky. Y/N slips her hands around Robin’s neck to pull her closer, and Robin feels everything all at once. Fireworks, butterflies, electricity, there’s not a single cliche left behind. She’s not sure what to do with her hands, but when Y/N parts her lips, Robin’s body seems to act of its own accord because suddenly her hands are gripping Y/N’s hips like they’re a lifeline. Y/N is grateful there’s a door behind her because otherwise her legs would definitely give out and send them both tumbling to the ground. 

“Robin? Y/N? Is everything okay?” Steve’s voice travels through the door, muffled but clear, and Robin reluctantly pulls her head back. She rests her forehead against Y/N’s as they both breathe heavily, trying to catch their breath. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” she whispers into the space between them. “Things are very okay.”

[semischarmed]

Truth

There he was. Lucas, in deep sleep. His snores fill the bedroom, barely lit by moonlight. The night was hot, and humid air envelops you both. Sweet, sweet Lucas- probably one of your nicest friends. Just a bit introspective, but you somewhat admired that in him. He was cute, sure, but he also exuded a beauty, a handsomeness that eclipsed many others. The way his eyes glistened intently whenever you held a conversation with him. They way his brows furrowed and gaze look into the distance whenever he was in deep thought. The way just the slightest folds on the corners of his eyes appeared whenever he smiled. The man was truly genuine, and whenever you two conversed he made sure you were the only thing that mattered in the world. Of course, who could forget that laugh. A quiet confidence and a mature self-acceptance brought to life with a bit of playful, youthful vibrancy. Truly everything that was this man, everything that was your Lucas was pinnacle, in your eyes. There would no other person in the world for you beyond him.

And in this most intimate of places, you see a side of him previously unseen. Damn those muscles. You knew he was relatively fit, but unhindered by his normal choice of clothing, they were massive. You note the delicate craftsmanship, the hills and valleys glistening, almost glowing in the moonlight. This man, who had trusted you enough to give you spare keys to his home, this man you had been yearning for years in secret was almost yours. A relationship, a friendship? No, one could not settle for just that. You would not be content until your every moment and his aligned. Pure, complete becoming. Lucas was your destiny.

With palms sweaty in anticipation, you chant the ancient words- spoken in long-dead tongues, invoking long-dead gods at your behest. These words did not come cheap. They were manifest from years of research and vast sums of wealth. Neither of which truly mattered anymore though, for what price could possibly ever match to perfection? The spell is near-complete, yet Lucas still slumbers.

Amidst the humid air and the warmth enveloping you both, there was on odd coldness. A coldness you could feel in your soul. Brisk, ancient, prickling sensations. Magic.The spell you were casting, despite being surely off-pronunciation was working. As you had found out magic, was 99% intent anyways, and you were single-track in this endeavor. You increase the speed of your speech in anticipation. ‘Oh Lucas… babe…just wait…almost there….’ 

“…sanguiniu- “ You cut yourself off by the sight before you. The spell was broken slightly but you can’t help but stare hungrily. 

In the entrance to the moist cavern of his mouth, you catch sight of his tongue- fleshy, thick, enveloped in a film of his saliva. Damn. It was teasing you, just hanging out there in the night air. With every rise and fall of his chest, it slowly followed suit, gently bobbing, slowly pulling you forward. 

You bite your lip when you notice a bit of drool pool on the corner of his mouth. He smiles a bit. Must have been a good dream. ‘Ugh. Even sleeping sloppy he was so cute.’ 

As you walk up to him, warm gusts of air gently caress your face, encircling and filling into your nostrils. This wasn’t just air. It was Lucas’ air- soon to be your air, beckoning it’s new owner in. And it smelled nice.  There was a pleasant muskiness about it. The spell wasn’t complete, but what’s the harm in a brief pause? You wouldn’t ever get a chance to experience Lucas like this anyway, at least not after you complete the incantation.

You lean closer to his mouth. “Should I….?” You gently wrap your lips around his tongue, pulling it into a fleshy envelope and begin sucking on it gently. ‘Ugh… sweet, Sweet Lucas. God, he even tasted delicious. As you feel his fleshy pink mass in your mouth, you can’t help but smile siphon a bit of him, a bit of his taste.

When you draw some of Lucas’ saliva into yourself, you near-faint in bliss. Fuck. You shiver uncontrollably at the notion of having a piece of Lucas inside you. This was everything. The flavor was unreal, much like his scent, it had earthy if somewhat salty notes but the muskiness, the raw testosterone in it was far more pronounced. It was an injection of pure Lucas inside yourself. You couldn’t help but suck just a bit more him in. 

The mouth surrounding that tongue was your entrance to the future, to your true self. Goddamn inviting. You even cum a little as you continue drawing more and more of Lucas and smash your head towards his open maw. “Mmmmm” you moan from your chest and throat, when he begins following suit, plump lips drawing over yours, bringing you closer as well. It purely instinctual on his end- didn’t fucking matter. All that rang true to you, all that mattered was that his reflexes, his body at that moment wanted you.

Lucas gags a little, breaking his unconscious silence as he inadvertently draws more and more of you into him. You relish in the moment, in the binding of your tongue to his, in the suction you feel emanating from his tongue. In your eyes, this was what his body wanted. what Lucas wanted. Of course it was. Your true place, your rightful place in this world was being a part of the Lucas experience, was being in him, was living as him. The corners of his lips turn into a more pronounced frown. His breathing hastens and in your intimate position, you steal each of these breaths into yourself. He awakes to the sight of his good friend uncomfortably close over his body. Impossibly close, in fact, and locked in orgasmic bliss. You sneer continue with your odd “kiss”. It was passionate, sloppy- at least from your end. Locked in ecstasy, you pay little mind to his attempts to pull you away. You’re not fucking letting go though, and maintain yourself lock on his tongue. This “kiss” was exactly how you’d always imagined it to be, only far more visceral, more raw. Imagination could only take you so far, after all. Heat exudes his chest and you greedily push your body stuck to his. A soft, slick sound is heard when both your chests stick together, sweat mixing. In his panicked breaths, you feel powerful lungs draw in and expand into you, squishing more of his skin over yours. Goddamn you can’t wait for it to be you using those lungs, flaunting those muscles, speaking through that mouth with that tongue. You can’t wait to make those vocal cords yours, to make them utter phrases they’ve never had to.

You smile as the magic begins to do its work. Tongues are drawn together, drawn to be one, and your face starts to squish into him. In his eyes he can only see yours sparkle in lust. You moan further. “Tho close. We’re almoth there Lucath….almoth uth…almoth one” you half mumble in slurred movements. 

Then, you feel it. Lucas’ tongue. The persistent suction drawing you into him. The nerves of his tongue tasting and feeling yours. ‘This is it. One last push further.’ You muse. You start moaning louder as he tries in vain to push you out, but you’re already melded to him- your skin and meat and bones already liquefying and condensing into a mass onto his tongue. He can feel it too. Pure Treachery. You begin to finish out the words of the spell. Now intimately, physically connected, Lucas is forced to repeat the words with you. The spell is complete. Of course, intent had been muddled by the now-awake Lucas, and words slipped and slid around your conjoined tongue. Didn’t matter, apparently, as you still felt the air become heavy with ancient briskness and enclose around you two. In a slosh, your entire form pushes into his tongue enveloping it. The pressure in the air is now crushing, and you feel yourself crumple, congeal, and consolidate into his tongue. In that pressure, you felt yourself born anew, bound, a part of Lucas. Finally, to be one. 

Lucas wakes in a cold sweat, shivering despite the warm night air. His tongue dangles off to the side of his open mouth. “Weird” he states, before pulling it back in. “What a fucking dream” he states before gently dozing back off to sleep. 

So, that spell was a bit of letdown. In the afterglow of the event, you soon realize the mistake made in clouded judgement. Rites, ancient languages and their intricacies. You never quite gotten that intent correct. You realize your mistake in your new form. You try to move, only to realize that while you were indeed a part of Lucas, only his tongue dangles slightly. 

Still being his tongue was not all bad. You are a now fully a part of him after all, so you feel yourself swell in pride at being a part of this handsome man. Besides, as a tongue, taste was all amplified. When Lucas had later awoken and eaten that first breakfast, it was near-orgasmic. What would have been a fairly simple breakfast was nothing short of divine. Even something as simple as toast- from his mouth that initial first crunch, the particles that first fell on you, the short, roasted crumbs with an almost decadent caramel tone- it was all too much to handle. Bread never tasted like this. The coffee he drank was even better. It was bitter, like all coffee, but it was a deep, rich bitterness, swirled through an undeniable nuttiness and the mild thick sweetness of the cream. Of course, as his tongue you could move slightly. You used this tiny bit of control you had to make sure every crunch, every slurp mattered. Lucas noticed his tongue move almost of its own volition, effortlessly gliding over each bite, rubbing over every ridge, showing its master the joy in the mundane. It would be his slowest and most delicious breakfast to date. Every bite and every lick its own coordinated effort. One hundred percent Lucas, one hundred percent you. Something as mundane as breakfast became a synchronized dance between you two. There would be no one closer to him than this. To top it all off, you got to be where you wanted afterward- in Lucas. It was like a warm, wet embrace in his body’s own little way. 

Though frankly, his taste in food could use some work. Those fucking protein shakes. Goddamn you swear the man drinks one for every meal. Vile, chalky, tasteless liquids that he forces you to swallow. If you still had a throat, you’d gag every time. Of course you cannot and are forced to take it, forced to move however his nerves direct.

For now, this would be fine, because when he wasn’t eating that very same flavor, that very same essence of Lucas that you crave enveloped you perpetually. It’s like the “kiss” from that night, he’s unwittingly got you locked in one with him for eternity. 

— 

Living as his tongue for the past few weeks has been amazing, but you can’t help but wonder about what could have been. You’ve since been accustomed to eating the same meals he did, to working as his tongue and have even gotten a bit more autonomy. Still, this was his body and he was the boss and it readily pushed a command that you could not disobey. 

You actually felt yourself a little larger of a presence in him, though you still couldn’t quite grasp why.

Today, Lucas was out walking with his friend. Mark. Lucas would always be first in your mind, but Mark was a close second. Your mind wanders, brewing lustful, sinful thoughts about Mark. As you squirm inside Lucas, something changes. There was something else beyond just his tongue. You firmly take it into yourself, before continuing in your Mark-filled stream. Without warning, Lucas goes up to his dear friend for a quick lick. 

“Hey sexy”

It’s barely audible, but unquestionably there. No one dare say another word in tense air.

“Handsssomeee…” 

The word slices through the tension clean. As a part of him, you feel warmth bloom inside Lucas. His face is bright red. 

Mark calls Luke’s bluff. “Haha bro… you really into me like that?” You feel Lucas’ throat close up. “N-no dude, er-it’s not like that” he replies meekly.

Mark takes the compliment in stride though, jokingly giving Lucas a wink, and playfully punching his shoulder. “Whatever bro, if you’re gonna stand there oogling, at least pay for my dinner” he laughs. In that brief moment of vulnerability, you flash just the lightest bit of control over that very same shoulder he punched. Addicting. The second taste of Lucas’ body. Lucas reacts to the muscle spasm by shivering slightly and wiping the punch off. “Haha, Fuck you too Mark” he laughs before absentmindedly licking his lips. By this point, you can barely pay attention to the outside world.

Because inside Lucas, inside the future you, acquisition. Ecstasy. For at this moment, you now felt his lungs-those lungs-your. lungs. You now felt his throat, his voice. In every breath he draws, you loan him back control, but it’s truly yours. You feel yourself expand and contract in slow, rhythmic motions. You feel the muscles surrounding them, and his warm heart pumping inside you. You feel yourself vibrate as he contorts you to form his sentences. It was divine. You start to chuckle, which results in the Lucas of the outer world choking slightly mid-sentence. Unfinished spells and unfinished magic were quite unpredictable but slowly, surely, the spell did its work. ’So that’s how it is.’ 

A few days later, a few days of your presence and you have even better hold over his voice. You relish in your control. The way his voice feels reverberating and rolling off you. Like sweet honey leaking out of the man of your dreams. On some nights, in his deepest sleep, you whisper sweet nothings to yourself, making Lucas beg you to possess him fully. “Pleeeease… take me… all of me…”

His unconscious body winces, grabs at air, pull at sheets, and writhes in pleasure as you make him say this. You shared a body after all, excess lust, excess hormones- they had to be going somewhere.

—

On this particular day, Lucas had been pumping iron with another of his friends. Andre always looked fucking hot, so you figured this would be as good of an opportunity as any.

You bring yourself to Andre’s neck, dragging your tongue around the bump of his Adam’s apple, circling the pronounced veins running across the sides. Hmmm. Salty.

You focus your words, your feelings into one- a phrase to unlock your freedom. Words reverberate through Lucas’ very core. You are his tongue, so you feel his nerves yield, his receptors, his very body yours.

“R-r-ravage me, Andre- Ravage this body. Show me what those guns can do- let me feel them, let me feel you. Lukey’s feeling lonely… I have a you-shaped hole ripe for the-“ Andre tries to repeat the perverted words coming out of his friend’s mouth, tries to digest them, to process what the fuck just happened. 

“H-Hey- Dude! What the fuck was that for!?” Andre asked in shock. Shaking Lucas’ shoulders. He looked genuinely hurt. But Lucas was lost in lust. He was different. He was moaning. “F-FUCK yeah. You taste delicious. Did I ever tell you that bro?” He spoke perversely. His words and thoughts tainted, clouded by your lust. You liked him better this way. He breaks from his spell.

“Oh God- I- Fuck! Sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I don’t know what that was. A-Andre? You ok?  A teary Lucas asked his friend. 

“Yeah dude.. whatever. Just please..um.. never do it again” He grimaced. 

Since you were a part of Lucas, you felt fear rush through his bones. He sucks his hanging tongue back in- a recently-acquired, disturbing habit he seems to have picked up from nowhere. He was terrified. Not just in his body, his voice moving on its own. He was terrified because he liked it. Terrified that he was becoming something else, something perverse. In truth, he really was. In your soul you could tell that Lucas was almost ready, because the endorphins, the testosterone, hormones you were pumping him chock-full with with had not dissipated. It was exhilarating. Fear. Lust. Ecstasy. These pervaded inside him, emotions mixing and swirling with yours. You could feel him try to fend off raw desire and a raging hard-on while he tried to sincerely comfort his friend. Fuck it feels amazing being a part of him. The man liked to keep his emotions in check but he was slipping. You were like a poison to him, slowly infecting his very self. Or perhaps, you were his antidote, the catalyst needed for both you to become your true selves. In this very moment though, you were simply content in just being a part of him. Content to just ride the invisible passenger. Content to feel the rush of his emotions as your own. The best part in all this? Lucas was continually shifting while he talked to Andre, trying to hide the intense desire to be used, experienced, felt. Because of you, he was getting off on all this. 

Shame riddled Lucas while you continued to worm and entrench yourself in him. That didn’t stop you two from masturbating to the thought of dragging that hot tongue all over Andre’s bod.

———

It’s been a few weeks now, and the corruption of Lucas was near-complete. Your Lucas was near-complete.

Every morning, he catches himself checking his face out in the mirror, sticking his tongue out, making seductive motions. “-fffFuck yeahhh” you both say. Like clockwork he soon shakes himself lucid, disturbed and goes about his day. Increasingly, you’ve been moaning with him, flooding him with your endorphins in response, rewarding his body for its increasingly deviant nature. These sessions have only gotten longer and more frequent. In a sense, his body began to crave it- to crave you. The more he uses that tongue, the more you rile up in being used- the further and deeper he becomes yours. 

Armed with this knowledge, you throw your lust into overdrive, driving him mad. His eyes are perpetually dilated, blood perpetually rushing, and he his lip quivers often in bursts of pleasure. His friends notice the slight change too, when your future body stiffens to their touch. Really, it’s just Lucas trying to stop himself, his impulses from guiding him from going all over them. Your soon-to-be friends probably noticed his propensity-your propensity to leave yourself hanging out of his mouth, displaying proudly to the world.

His body is now all but yours. It actively fights the man, resisting his every move slightly, pumping him with sinful impulses, edging the last vestige of Lucas-his brain- to relent. His body wants you in control. Alas, the brain was the forefront of control, and whenever focused you can do nothing but to comply. Despite this, you know you’re close- the man can barely focus, barely rest, as you continue pumping him with pleasure, taunting him to release himself to you. 

Something inside told you this was it- this was the day. In this very morning, he wakes in a trance, walking over to his mirror, gazing at himself in clouded lust. He was drawn to himself and relinquishing to the desires both his body and you had been pumping him with. Of course, the lapse is momentary, the moan near-inaudible, but it was enough. Jackpot. In that briefest of moments, you wrestle primary control of this body from him, cementing you as his puppet-master. His body complies willingly, flaring in anticipation of its new owner. After all, you’ve been feeding it your pleasure whenever it follows your command. Locked in that pleasure, you begin to move around, relishing in the absolute control you now had.

Still, who knew how long this would last? You needed a way to have Lucas, to be like this permanently. As you eye his features in the mirror, you knew just what to do. 

You start with his face. His eyes are wide with fear as his body continues moving on its own volition. His mouth purses into a pout- a cute little touch you wanted to add- by itself. A thick tongue begins to peek out of plump lips. Like a snake, you greedily taste the morning air, wiggling your pink flesh in delight before focusing on the “delight” you were attached to. You want to taste it all-to taste the man you would become once more. You start by delicately layering his own saliva over his lips. In the absence of breakfast, you deduce this essence to be 100% Lucas. The flavor was - nonintrusive. But you could tell the reeked of an undercurrent manliness, cause in that very saliva and essence of Lucas that you coat yourself with, you also felt the saturation of testosterone, the slight bitterness of power inherent in being him. It was a humble flavor that unquestionably read “Man”.  Everything this body made, everything it was was addicting. 

Prickly- Thats how the beard surrounding his lips were. Delicious, seductive hairs that Lucas liked to keep just the tiniest bit unkempt, that you just found all the more alluring. In this very forest of hairs were the concentrated sweat, grime, and natural scent baked and solidified from the previous day- for Lucas was a morning showerer.

You decide to give him shower his body deserved- “Shower” would be stretching the use of the word. You engorge yourself- sticking and smearing your wet, pink flesh all over that prickly skin, savoring in the salty, putrid essence, in the raw flavoring of the beard of the man you would become. Of course it was delicious. It was Lucas.

Yet there would be more Lucas to share. You survey the next area to “shower” in this bod- he watches in fear as his left hand raises straight up to the sky. Fingers fashion themselves into a claw and veins in that arm flare to life. Cutey little Lukey was trying to fight it. The hand shakes in internal struggle. You decide to revel in this moment. Since your libido was now Lucas’, his cock can’t help but harden. You make him look at it before calling it a “Joint effort” with a wink. He moans, body betraying mind. You catch a whiff of the stench emanating from your left. Delightful. His protestations and disgust are muddled in your raw elation, as you smash his mouth face first into his unwashed armpit.

“MMmmmpph” He tries to get a word out, tries to pull himself off his own skin to no avail. After all, you were still his tongue, and you were quite preoccupied. Sharp, pungent, sour, flavors line you as you smear more and more of yourself around. You briefly entangle and entwine yourself into his hairs, coating them with his own saliva while you poke and prod. His body is forced to experience wave after wave of the pleasure you felt in burying yourself here. You indulge in his scent further. Using his lungs, you make him inhale deeply. His own muskiness floods his senses and he briefly regains control, coughing in disgust. ‘Uh-oh, might not have much time left’. You pull some more strings inside him and his body is all too willing to follow. “T-This is our own scent bro…” he says. The words fall out his mouth in an attempt at the intonation, the phrasing he’d normally use. You continue, making those lips, those vocal cords yours. “Gotta learn to love it… to love us”. It sure sounded like Lucas’ voice, but it there was something off about it. 

High off the aroma, you continue, rounding out his left bicep. Goddamn. Packed inside was pure muscle. Dense, hard musculature built through years of hard work. The thick firm skin gives way slightly, with a bit of bounce as you take his tongue further down his arm. Goddamn bliss. This skin was saltier than the others- different, like all the flavors of Lucas, you note. ‘But they are all undeniably, uniquely him’.

You swirl in fluid, curving motions as you go over every muscle running down his arm. A trail of slime leaves your wake, rubbing a mixture of of flavors throughout his arm. This only serves to rile you up further, as his muscles glisten in the morning light. When you get to his veiny hands, you take extra special care to run yourself through its every crevice, exploring as much of Lucas as you could. You make his lips pucker as you pull yourself off his index finger with an audible pop. A string of saliva follows, but you quickly gobble that back into yourself.

Bulging muscles stir as you command his biceps yours as well. They turn inwards, presenting their vascularity, their raw power to you. Beautiful.

This was it. You motion to bring his hand towards his crotch, curling them slightly in anticipation. As you eyed that cock. You both knew this to be the end. 

“NO!” he shouts in added clarity. Body follows mind and he pulls back some of his own strings for himself. The fight is brief but you manage to grab some control back.

You use his very voice against him. “You’re right baby… this is it… o-our new life… our first time together needs to be special.” He’s now shouting profanities in your head. Funny, you’ve never heard him curse before.

Without warning, you rush yourself to his now-hard dick. He screams in searing pain as his spine concaves and you inch toward your prize. His tongue is not used to moving with such dexterity, but it’s been quite some time since it could even really be considered ‘his’ tongue anymore. You snake yourself around his dick, constricting around the dank, putrid skin, encasing it in globs of saliva and pink, oral flesh. 

Even Lucas couldn’t help but moan at the divine sensation. Your bumpy texture running along his skin shot wave after wave of bliss. In every constriction, you feel it firm even harder, causing you to wrap your slimy hug around it further, construct more. Lucas’ moans quicken as you get to work. Push… You ebb and flow, there and back, as you work through his now-throbbing member. Pull. Each movement of the textured tongue runs sheer ecstasy as bump after bump moves back and forth and stimulates. Push. You hasten, wanting the both of you to fulfill the moment. Pull… Push… Pull… Push. Flashes of intense pleasure rush through you both as you aim for the finish line. PushPullPushPullPushPull- heaven. At that very moment of release, the two of you are brought to another plane of existence. Time stops and the world is still. You and Lucas though? Vibrating. In this plane you rush toward him, your vibrations synchronize with his, you overlay over him, and pleasure rumbles and bubbles from deep within. The universe, your world, your room comes back to focus. In a splash, a wave of pearl-white seed coats you. 

In the afterglow of his masturbation, when his nerves and neural connections begin to provide clarity, to link themselves in trust, you instead feel them attach to you. Much like his body, like his tongue, they too have become corrupted, twisted by your constant presence and the raw eroticism. This was the key to permanence.

Like veins they worm and take root inside you, growing into you. In your perversion of his senses, you feel these roots alight, yield themselves to become yours. Down to the last synapse, you rush and pull these all to yourself, to acquire, appropriate them. Once Lucas’ brain had adequately sequestered itself in you, his memories soon followed. This too had its own flavor, albeit somewhat muted- like the sweetness of his first date-yours. Or the bitterness of a childhood experience-yours. Raw wonderment and passing thoughts- fucking. yours. You scream in shrill delight as the last, the tinniest, the deepest of his neural connections had become yours. There would be no going back for him, for you were now Lucas in body, Lucas in mind. 

Tears well in his eyes. He tries to fight it, tries to kick you out, to push you away from him. His back arches, and he writhes in pain, trying in vain. Face scrunches in searing, unimaginable agony before it seizes and mouth shoots open, tongue dangling out. There would nothing to push out for you and him were already bonded. He clutches his head and in that single instance, his eyes shoot wide open. Finally, success. 

Lucas’ shoulders sag as he collapses to the ground.

Moments later, Lucas’s body stirs. It wriggles awake before taking one assured, strong step forward. It pushes itself up and walks right back up to the mirror, emotionless. Then, a satisfied smile paints its face. Like someone finally resting after an arduous battle, he breathes a sigh of relief. Lucas’ body looks back at itself in the mirror, innocently-eyes glassy. The kind smile it wore grows just a bit wider. It chuckles softly. Success.

The smile continues growing. Chuckles becomes laughter. The voice resounds ill-fitting to the mound of muscle that was Lucas. It was Innocent smile soon becomes tainted with sinful glee. Lucas’ body starts full-on cackling. “YES” you growl. Hearing his resonant voice follow your words, your intent was amazing. Hearing your thoughts spoken in the same ton, same intonation he used took it next-level. “FUCK. YES… FINALLY”!

That last piece was it. Cum still warm on his body, you lap it up, swallowing it whole, jealously keeping even this part of Lucas to yourself. It was salty, musky, viscous essence. It was pure fucking Lucas. The voice, the dull resistance from him was gone. The sensation was both sobering clarity and drunk ecstasy. Like the world itself was realigning to put you and him together, as one living Lucas. His memories now flow freely into you as they are now yours. It tickles. With his memories comes his feelings, his wants, his wishes- all of which you have cemented as a part of Lucas’s new psyche-Your new psyche. Goddamn it feels good to be Lucas.

Finally, Lucas had reframed, recontextualized the entirety of himself, the entirety of his being to you. You talk like him. You frown like him. You smile like him. Hell, you even think like him. Hips sway as you start to dance in front of the mirror in your new body, your new soul. It was pure, jubilant expression. You wipe happy tears from your eyes.

You were drunk on power of controlling him. Of finally truly being him. You relish in hearing his voice as your own, in your very thoughts being thought through a filter of his life, your commands executed by his body. You allow his vocal cords to perform. You allow his hips to shake uncharacteristically, tantalizing. You allow the words to leave his mouth. They were juicy taunts made juicier with the knowledge that his lips shift and degrade the very body they were in at you beckoning, that was his very neurons were conforming to you thoughts and will. You now do everything in wholly Lucas-ey way. 

Lucas’ body smacks its ass, while it continues shaking its hips uncharacteristically in slow, sensual movements. “Goddamn, you should have gotten inside me sooner.” You make him say. “My body, my mind, my soul we were lonely for you. We needed you in here. I love having you inside me. I love you wearing my skin, using my muscles as a suit. Don’t worry” You make him flex. “These are forever yours. My mind? Forever yours. Control me. Use Me. No- deeper. [moan] Become. Me. Be. Lucas.” 

“I’m Lucas” you say to yourself in response. It rolls off your tongue naturally, fluidly, and in full truth. You truly were him. “But you can call me Luke, baby”.

You had done it. You were finally Lucas. One mind, one body, one soul.

“Mine forever, Lucas”

—

It’s been months and your friends have definitely caught on to the sheer oddness of it all. Near-instantaneously, their dear friend Lucas’ personality had flipped. Each of them could pinpoint a ‘special’ spot on their bodies where their boy Lukey liked to lick them. ‘It was just his thing’ they often said, embracing their new dynamic as well as the new Lucas. This you-enhanced Lucas, likewise, had also embraced his new self. Greedy, lustful self-obsession bordering on narcissism, and of course the penchant to show off his slimy tongue. Of course, the first few times you did this, they recoiled at the behavior. You had your preferences, you had the knowledge inherent in being Lucas- you knew exactly how wear his soul, how to embody his life because you were him. But you weren’t content leaving it like this, in just continuing as him. This was the new, improved Lucas. With you in command, you couldn’t help but introduce some changes, couldn’t help but show off your handiwork.

Mark had grown so accustomed to your constant licks, he looked visibly upset when you weren’t on him. One night, you decided to take it a step further, to take a leap the old Lucas never would have and stroke your vascular hands all over him. He complied, moaning all the while, guiding you around to explore him- guess it was actually Mark who was into you. He paid for dinner that night.

The old Lucas was sweet and reserved- The new you? Not a chance. As Lucas, you constantly wore a leering, lewd gaze. You wore thin, revealing clothing accentuating your new Lucas-bound muscles. Why not share it with the world? The very air you emanated was persistently thick with sexual energy, brimming with pheromones. New-Lucas was your deepest desires bound to living flesh. And at the forefront of it all-that thick tongue of yours. At every occasion, in every possible way, you flaunt it to the world.

Tattooed somewhere in this body is your old name. Ink representing the old you, and your absolute permanence this new form of yours, cementing yourself as forever a part of him, cementing the intersection of your history and his. You. Lucas. One. This was the new truth in the world. 

- End -

Had tons of fun channeling @verus-veritas​ to write this one out. Hope I did you justice!

[kashimos-hajime]

interlude | l.a.

summary: levi pulls you away from some rich-ass party for far more interesting activities. you’re just too goddamn pretty for him.

WARNINGS: smut!!! (18+), handjobs, oral (m-receiving), sub!levi, big pouty boy, ok hes just like really sexually pent up and this is how hes going through it, hints of jealousy, teasing, swearing, closet sex, established relationship, but also fluff :), levi is a bratty mf pairing: levi ackerman x survey corps fem!reader word count: 2.3k

a/n: written just bc i felt like it! enjoy my subby needy take on levi in honour of levi coming back all sexy this coming sunday ndklsnf LMAO enjoy!!

crossposted on ao3 x

His fingers are insistent, wrapped tight around your wrist as he pulls you through the empty corridors of the Mitras palace, and you glance back at the party they’ve left abruptly. Erwin will surely be missing their absence, even in the crowd of superiors he’s surrounded by and you frown. Jerking your long Scout jacket tighter across yourself, you glance out at the sunset painting the sky a rusty orange, before glancing back at the Captain, mouth dropping open in protest.

“Levi, what—”

With a sharp tug, you’re pulled into darkness, out of nowhere, and you let out a yelp before hands find your waist and desperate, seeking lips press tightly against your own. A small, strong body is flush against yours as the door clicks shut under your back, and you sag into hands that are flat against the wood underneath your shoulders as your arms drape over a sloping frame, eyebrows furrowing, returning the kiss just as fiercely.

A needy sound pries out of Levi’s mouth as he bites on your lower lip before moving away, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, across your chin, down your neck and your head tilts back, your breath coming out in punched gasps as his hips jerk against your own.

“L-Levi?” His name comes out choked and his head pulls back. In the darkness, you can’t even make out the blueness of his eyes but you know they burn you—you can feel them on your mouth all the same. And then, his head tilts forward, brow against your collarbones and your hand lifts from his shoulders, finding the knob and twisting the lock with a quick flip of your fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles. “I just needed to feel you.”

“Here?” you prompt as his ragged breaths push against your shirt. Your other hand rakes lazily through his hair and he arches into you, nails scraping into the wooden door as your fingers scratch at his scalp. “What—”

“You’re pretty. Too pretty,” he grits out. “Stop it.”

Unamused: “Stop being pretty?”

“Stop teasing me.”

A delighted current runs through your heart at his order and you smirk. Now that your heart is racing, and you’re all alone in a tight room with just him, you can smell his intent all over him, radiating like a frustrated animal. 

Leaning down until your lips brush the shell of his ear, you feel his shiver as you whisper gently, “I’m not doing anything, sweetheart.”

“F-fuck—“ His voice comes out shaking, and he hunches over, jaw clenched. “Never see you like this. All political, charming the brass. It shouldn’t work. Nothing should work.” Your hand falls away from his hair and you run your hands down his tense, lithe body, smiling to yourself as he continues to grumble, “But every single fucking time, you just have to be there. Smiling sunshine piece of shit—”

“You talk too much, Captain,” you whisper, your fingers finding his belt buckle of his own formal jacket and pulling it undone easily. The jacket falls in a pile around his legs and feet shift against stone as you continue onto the buckle of his pants, tugging his tucked shirt free. “You’re wound up.”

“You knew what you were doing,” he continues accusingly, his head still against your chest bone and you smile, craning your neck to kiss the side of his head. He lets out a growl.

“You just thought the premiere’s son looked at me funny.”

“He did.”

“Tch, Levi,” you sing, slowly unwinding leather from loops, “green has always been a pretty colour on you. If this whole act continues, I might just lead him on to see what gets a rile out of you.”

He scoffs, hard and hot against your collarbone. “Manipulator.“

“Bastard,” you quip, grinning. “We match.” Fingers curling over the waistband of his pants, you push them down before cupping his head and lifting a soft face towards your own. “Hey, there.”

You feel the flush searing his cheeks, and you know without the light that his eyes are blown out and hazy, lip caught between teeth as he tries to restrain the wanton desire burning through his system. You understand. It’s exactly the same way you feel whenever you’re remotely in the same room as him and there isn’t enough space to contain their impulses without everything exploding.

Tilting his chin, you kiss him softly, warmly, gently, and his fingers find your wrists, wrapping around them insistently, tight enough to bruise. You smile when his nose nudges against your cheek, lips still seeking more. Indulging him for only half a second, you tilt his head up, feeling his mouth fall open as nails dig into your wrists, a warning and an ask.

Drawing back just enough to breathe but not enough that their lips ever part, your words push into his mouth in a heady sigh.

“We have to be quiet, alright, Captain?” You smile crookedly as he nods, the fringe of his hair brushing along the line of your nose and fluttering over your eyelids. “Good. Now, relax…” Sinking to your knees, your hands find lean, burning thighs and you huff to yourself, trailing a finger up to the apex of his leg and you find the knob of his hip bones before anything.

You know exactly what’s staring at you in the face. You just refuse to acknowledge it.

Travelling inward, you trace his V-line until the heat of his blood is so hot it’s near unbearable and when your hand merely brushes against his cock, his body collapses forward, hips jutting with a sharp, tight groan. Above you, you hear an elbow collide with the door and by the way he doesn’t move back, you know he’s leaning heavily on his arms.

Fingers delicately finding the base, your digits dance up his length, smirking at the tiny noises you pry out of him with your teasing, and a hand shoots down to your head but he still doesn’t move you as your thumb presses against the tip, finding precum already leaking down his cock.

“I’ve barely touched you,” you note, wrapping your fingers around him and rubbing your thumb all over the head. A short, choked noise rips out of Levi and you smile, reaching blindly for his other clothes and stuffing them under your knees. Leaning in close, your breath puffs against your hand and him as you slowly let go. “How long have you been hiding this?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he replies dryly through gritted teeth and you chuckle, spitting into your palm. It drips down your fingers and you grab Levi’s thigh with your clean hand before shifting yourself closer. “God, if you’re not going to—“

Whatever the rest of his sentence was going to be fades away when you wrap a hand around his cock and slide it down to his base, excruciatingly slow. His hips jerk forward, sending his dick the rest of the way through the tight fist you have on him and you laugh, kissing the tip teasingly.

“What? Does that feel good or something?”

“You fucking know—ngh—fuck, yes.” His hand tightens in your hair as you pump your hand, grip tight yet not enough. Your thumb runs along the underside, rubbing over the weeping slit before tracing back down again and the rest of your fingers squeeze, teasing the shit out of him, smearing precum all over his dick.

Your hand on his thigh reaches up, sneaking underneath his shirt to hook on his hip bone and you spread your fingers, feeling the tightness in his abdomen as you continue to jerk him off, kissing the tip with a silly grin every few seconds.

Your name comes out stuttered, torn from Levi’s throat, and you don’t have to remind him to be quiet because those sinful noises he’s so desperately trying to chain back only serve to inspire you, to slow you down, speed you up, tease him until his grip on you is blistering.

It’s funny. Captain Levi Ackerman of the Scouts, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, and he’s malleable when you put a hand on his cock and a mouth at the tip.

Captain Levi Ackerman, and he’s moaning your name.

It’s a thought that makes you smirk as you squeeze the head, your thumb rubbing teasingly over the slit again and his hips jerk forward so violently you think he might lose his footing but he doesn’t. 

Captain Levi never slips.

He does, however, have a mouth on him. Something you intend to make full use of.

“Fuck you,” he spits.

“Later,” you promise. “For now…” His abdomen clenches at your words and you smile, tilting your chin to kiss the underside of his cock and resuming the leisurely place of your strokes. His groans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps, raw noises that make your thighs clench together as you lean to kiss his hip bone, around his base, all the while fucking him into delirium with just a single hand.

You try to guess how long he’ll last. Another part of you wonders if anyone’s made the connection between your disappearance and the Captain’s. 

That thought, that idea, that some noble with a stick up their ass could have a remote idea what you’re doing with the esteemed Captain, sends a wicked flare through you. Your wrist twists, squeezing nearly painfully hard and Levi’s hips roll forward, a guttural moan spilling out of his mouth.

“Shit. Shit, don’t stop,” he whispers. “Harder. H-harder—”

“Harder?” you echo innocently, your fingers tightening and you feel his abdomen go rigid underneath your fingers even more if possible. “Harder, Captain?”

“Ngh—fuck. Harder.” His voice is a broken rasp as you speed up and his breath quickens. Wrist burning, you pump him through your fist and you feel it the moment he reaches the precipice. The way his cock twitches, the way his voice pitches just enough that you know he’s about to lose it, and you shift on your aching knees as your hand trails down his hips again, finds the back of his thigh, and you feel his leg quivering. “I’m close. Close—shit, I’m— you— Where? Just—just tell me where.”

“Don’t worry, Levi. Just let go for me, love,” you whisper, so quietly, you’re not even sure he can hear you before you take him into your mouth and it’s only one more thrust against your tongue curling against the underside of his dick before he’s cumming into you, a fist slamming against the door above you. Jaw opening up wider, you take him in deeper, hands grabbing at his legs and tugging him closer as his fingers on your head hold him up and hold you still.

The broken litanies of your name are the only sound, only breathed through his ragged gasps and you breathe in deeply through your nose, swallowing him deeper into your throat as he thrusts forward, the waves still crashing over him. You don’t mind, using your tongue to coax the last few threads of pleasure through his body and sucking him off.

It’s only when the hand on your head relaxes does he finally pull out of your mouth and a strand of spit and cum links your lips to his dick, only broken when he falls to his knees in front of you. His bare knees against your clothed ones, you only have to hold out your arms before an exhausted body is pressed against your own, a head nuzzled into the curve of your neck while you trace the curve of his spine, your hands sneaking under his shirt to explore a muscled back.

“Levi,” you hum, amused, and your only reply is the shift of his head against you, the way his breaths puff against your jaw, and your hunger only grows at the idea of his fucked out face, the blush no doubt flooding his cheeks with red, his eyes—eyes that can’t focus on anything. Hazy, blurry, blissed. “Levi, sweetheart.”

“F-fuck you,” you hear his coarse mumble, and you smile, lifting a hand to thread fingers through his hair before tilting your head and slotting your mouth against his. The edge of his jaw pokes against the fleshy part of your thumb, and he grabs the back of your neck, deepening the kiss immediately. Tongue dipping into your mouth, you wonder if he tastes you just as much as you can taste him still. Sighing, your body melts against him and your stomach cramps when he pulls back, thumb rubbing roughly at your chin. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“You’re the one who dragged me in here,” you point out. “But if you want me to pay, Captain, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.” He pulls back, and you hold back another smile, looking down at the floor as he grabs his pants haphazardly, the belt clinking against stone. Lifting your knees and sitting back, you pick up his formal jacket, flapping the wrinkles out as best as you can while he buckles back up, but it’s no use.

In the light, it’s going to be a mess of creases and implications.

“I think we have to go home early,” you tell him, looking where you think his face is. He looms over you now that he’s standing and you’re crashed against the door, and you hand him the jacket which he takes but doesn’t pull out of your grasp. Fingers brushing along your knuckles, he leans down and places a gentle kiss against your brow. “Sorry.”

“Oh, I’ll accept your apology,” he murmurs, tilting his head to whisper his soft lips over your temple. A delighted shiver shoots down your spine and as he trails a finger down your cheek, over your swollen, used lips, you hear his deadly smirk laced with promise in his tone. “If you can’t tell, I’m positively devastated.”

[eltrkbarbarella]

PÂTÉ DE ROLO TUTORIAL WITH FREE PATTERN

Are you lonely and would like a companion to keep you from going crazy? Are you making a Laudna cosplay and keep getting frustrated because there aren’t really any tutorials out and things are kept behind pay walls? Do you just like the little bastard and would like to have one to hold and to love?

Well, your search ends here!

This good boy is all hand-made by me, and while i’m certainly not a professional, I think cosplay is all about helping one another! So feel free to use this however you like :3

You’ll need:

Felt

Air dry lightweight clay (In my country I used Biscuit)

Thin craft wire

Aluminum foil

Masking tape

Hand sewing needle and thread

Stuffing material (I used leftovers from my other plushie projects, but you can also use scrap fabric, even though it might turn out heavier)

Super glue

Paint

Matte Varnish

Now, let’s get to the pictures!

These are the patterns you’ll need.

The pattern for the body has NO SEAM ALLOWANCE, so please trace it and cut it out carefully. Feel free to resize him as well, as i’ve used my own hand measurements to plan out his shape.

For sewing the body I highly suggest hand stitching, because he is quite tiny. I used a backstitch on the whole thing.

Sew all sides leaving open only the parts in pink.

Next, use the second pattern to make his wire bones! I used thin wire, and to reinforce the structure, I twisted together 2 wires for his entire length.

After making the bones, wrap the ends and the places where the wires join with masking tape so it doesn’t get caught in the felt as you’re stuffing him 

After sewing the body, turn it inside out. At this point you should start on his tail.

For his tail, I cut a long rectangle of pink felt, with about an inch or an inch and a half of width. 

Roll it up tight, little by little and either stitch it closed with a simple ladder stitch, or glue it, so it won’t move around. 

After you have a single long tube of felt, make a single secure stitch at one of the ends and spiral the thread up your tube, with more pressure to start, and then with larger spacing and a lighter hand near the top. Make another stitch at the end to secure your thread.

 Time to assemble the pieces!

Put the wire bones inside the felt body, being careful to pull the feet through the holes you’ve left open. Attach the tail, and close up the holes.

Stuff him however you want. I know he’s a skinny dude in the official art, but feel free to have the fat Pâté of your dreams!

Now it’s time for sculpting!

This is where you can have more freedom. I went with a cartoonier look but feel free to make it more realistic if you want!

Make a first pass filling out the wire bits, wait for it to dry most of the way, and then apply another layer where you can start sculpting in the details.

I like to use sewing pins (the one with the little plastic ball at the end) to help sculpt tiny things, because i can use the needle end to carve details, and the ball end to smooth over the clay.

For the head, use aluminum foil to make a ball. Make it slightly smaller than you want the actual head to end up being.

Stab a small hole in the bottom of the ball, stick the wire loop in and use super glue to secure it.

After all that, put the thinest layer possible of clay around the ball to give it a first cover up.

With another piece of foil, make a long triangle for the beak. Pierce a length of wire through the beak and into the foil ball to give it structure, and use more super glue to secure it. I’ve also put in 2 wires connecting directly to the head to make up his nostrils.

Like you did with the legs, build up the clay slowly leaving enough time to dy between passes.

In the end you should have a fully shaped Pâté!

I used acrylics to paint him, watering down the paint to create shading and making many layers until I was happy with the result. Here he is wrapped in a little plastic bag with his limbs popping out ready to get varnished:

After all that you should have your very own Pâté to love and to care for!!

If you like plushies and youtubers, maybe you can check out my Anti, Wilford, Dark and Dan and Phil plushies♡

[likeastarstar]

Invisible String- Jungkook

(A/N: This is my first time writing a soulmate au piece but I really love them and I hope I did it in a non-cheesy way. I really love this one and I want you guys to like it too. Feedback is always appreciated!)

masterlist.

He was either meant to be your soulmate or your demise.

You really couldn't tell which yet, since you didn't even know how you felt about him quite yet. Either way, there was a string connecting the two of you and someone kept tugging on it. Call it fate, call it misfortune.

The first time you met him, you forgot to ask his name. You weren't even supposed to be at that crossroad, but you had woken up freakishly early and felt like taking a walk to that bakery you always meant to visit. It was a bright day, sunny for the first time in a week. The air was cool on your skin and things felt right.

You waited idly for the traffic to die down even slightly so you could cross, a couple other people waiting beside you. There was one man, tall, in the fattest pair of shoes you had ever seen. Seriously, they were gigantic black boots that looked like they could stomp out an entire village. The only reason you noticed him moving before the walk symbol lit up was because they were all you could stare at.

He must've had headphones on, because he didn't notice the car rapidly speeding in his direct path, blaring it's horn loudly. You reacted quicker than him, grabbing the back of his bomber jacket and yanking him backwards with so much desperation he fell back onto you.

"Are you stupid?" You snapped, stumbling backwards. You couldn't quite catch yourself and found yourself falling on your ass, the man who was much larger than you toppling over as well.

You landed with a muffled thud, groaning in pain.

"Are you okay? I-I'm so sorry!" The man gasped, scrambling to get off of you. He stood above you with his hands outstretched towards you, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "I didn't see the car- I was looking at my phone."

You frowned up at him, propping yourself up on your elbows. His eyes were as big as his boots and he had a strangely innocent look to his face that really contrasted the standoffish outfit he has on, but maybe that was the point. He stretched out a hand towards you, offering to help you up.

"You should probably not do that while you're trying to cross the street," You sighed, taking his hand instantly. It was soft, strong. He pulled you up easily, with a speed that surprised you, gripping his arm to steady yourself upright. Ooh- strong bicep.

"It was for work," He grumbled defensively, a hurt look coming over his face before an annoyed one took its place. "Not that you needed to know that. Thank you- for stopping me, but I'm in a bit of a rush."

You stood speechless, sputtering for a response while he turned to walk away. He was moving so fast his hair flopped everywhere in a funny way, hustling across the street.

"Hey!" You called after him, to no use. "You're welcome, I guess! Asshole!"

The next time you met, things were a little different.

You stared at the shelf of porcelain figures, wondering why on Earth your mom would collect these tiny freaks of nature. Why did anyone collect knick knacks anyway- they just collected dust, dust meant sneezing, sneezing meant bacteria, bacteria meant death. Death was bad.

You reached for the least offensive one, trying to avoid touching anything else. Behind you, the door to the store opened and a slight breeze blew in.

"Welcome!" You heard a worker say cheerily, a familiar voice mumbling a response.

You tried to place it, unknowingly swiping your hand a little too far to the left and knocking over at least five of these stupid little figurines. You gasped, watching them fall to the floor and shattering- directly next to a pair of the largest black boots you had ever seen.

"Shit."

You traced the boots upwards- black boots, black sweatpants, black bomber. Same guy, same outfit. Did this guy have a uniform or something?

"Shit," You nodded, parroting what he just said.

A spark of recognition flashed his face, mouth falling open slightly- he had a mole beneath his bottom lip. Cute.

"You break it, you buy it!" a worker called out, not so cheerily.

Shit.

You groaned, knowing you definitely could not afford this. How were you going to pay for all of these stupid figurines? Why were they so goddamn expensive in the first place? You crouched down to pick up the pieces, boot boy mirroring you.

"I can pay," He said quietly, helping you as a staff worker came over to the pair of you with a broom and a dustpan. "And if you think they're stupid, why were you even looking at them?"

You stared up at him in confusion- had you said all of that aloud?

"My mom likes them, it's her birthday." You mumbled, "Not that you needed to know that. You don't need to pay, I'll figure something out."

"Consider it payback for the last time," He shrugged, "Pick out an unbroken one for your mom and pay for that at least- I'll get the broken ones."

You promised to pay him back and meant it- exchanging numbers and offering to meet up a week later. He told you a bank transfer would be enough but you insisted on buying him coffee at least- if not to even the playing field then to see if he wore the boots again. Except that he gave you the wrong number, an elderly woman picking up when you tried calling later that day.

The next time you ran into the boy, who's name you found out was Jungkook, was three weeks later.

"Can you at least try to act like you're having fun?"

"No," You laughed, staring at ceiling.

This club was too crowded, too hot, too...much. Your friend had dragged you out and so there you were- stuck until she wanted to go home. Sure, you could've abandoned her, but you were a good friend and good friends stayed until the entire group wanted to go home.

Except that she ditched you the second she found a guy to go home with. Somehow, you weren't surprised.

Now it was down to you and this guy who followed you on your way out of the club, standing too close to you.

"I said I wasn't interested," You repeated, feeling deeply annoyed. "You have two seconds before I beat the shit out of you and I don't mean that as a joke. I literally will kill you."

"Sounds kinky," He slurred, grinning in a way you didn't appreciate.

You sighed and whirled around, ready to stick by your word until a familiar face caught your eye.

"Jungkook," You gasped, his eyes wide and trained on you. He raised his eyebrows and looked at the man next to you, his eyes narrowing slightly before flickering back to you.

"Hey, asshole," He frowned. Wow, he gave you a nickname. "You never called me. What happened to paying me back?"

"Me, asshole? You, asshole. You gave me the wrong number," You defended, now completely ignoring the man pressing himself into your side.

He seemed to be with friends, nudging one before waving goodbye and stepping closer to you. God- he was hot. He wasn't wearing the boots for once, instead he had a sleek pair of sneakers on with fitted black jeans and a button down shirt, enough buttons undone for you to ogle openly at his chest. The bomber jacket was gone, replaced by a leather jacket and his fluffy hair was sleeked back neatly.

"Do you know this guy?" The man from before whined, shoving himself half onto you.

You grunted and slammed him backwards, "You're still here?" You snapped, throwing him the meanest look you could muster.

"Your friend said you were interested!" He exclaimed, just as you felt Jungkook step closer behind you, his chest touching your back lightly.

"She's obviously not," He snapped, placing a light hand on your shoulder.

No, you weren't interested in that guy, but you were interested in Jungkook.

TO BE CONTINUED...

PART TWO