#it’s like wearing a gucci belt

[vanillaboyfriend]

was watching this vod and this outfit...

[theplantbish]

Anyway I had a dream where I met Käärijä and this was his fit

[sipsteainanxiety]

going up to bkg, looking him straight in the eyes, and telling him to pull his pants up his calvin kleins are in full view

[artbysconnor]

GoodTimesWithScar x Gucci

Part 3/18 of LifeStyle: A Life Series Fashion Zine

-

Scar is such an uplifting and fun creator and I love his energy so much. I always watch his POV of the series, much like Cleo and Grian, and I love watching him stream while I work.

-

While typically I stay true to the exact design of the pieces as much as I can, I did modify the jacket shape to fit better while seated in a wheelchair and accommodate for the support strap (shorter crop to maintain silhouette, and open up the back to accommodate for sitting an support needs).

Some notes on accessible and adaptive clothing that got too long for the main body of the post:

Some of the other accessible clothing adjustments I would've made in real life aren't really visible in the piece, aren't relevant for an editorial-style shoot like this (since they're only worn for a short period of time for a specific look, vs long-term practical wear), etc. For example, a higher fit for the pants and longer cut of shirt in the back to accommodate fit while seated isn't visible in this piece even though I kept it in mind, sensory-friendly clothing and avoiding things like belts for long periods for comfort aren't really relevant for the illustration, and placing accessible openings for medical ports is more relevant to real-life conditions and knowing where those ports would be rather than a one-off fashion drawing.

All that being said, however, I wanted to talk about it because it's important to keep accessibility and adaptability of clothing in mind when designing and styling, especially if you're not disabled yourself. It's something fashion has a responsibility to be aware of and help to support (and maybe doesn't do as well as it should) and I highly encourage you to research specific needs for adaptable clothing and learn more if you plan on drawing or making disabled characters in the future. There are tons of resources about accessible and adaptive clothing online, depending on what a person's or character's needs would be, and I encourage research for all!!

[antigonenikk]

What it would actually be like to date various HBOWAR men (modern au):

by me and @guarnerepdf

Speirs:

-is a cokehead finance bro

-you wake up in the middle of the night to him watching you sleep with no explanation given, just an eery smile

-is gaslighting you for purposes unknown (moving your furniture one inch to the left etc)

-buys you the fucking tackiest expensive jewelry and designer clothes as random gifts but half of it is fake

-you justify staying because he takes you to NOBU but you’re afraid to google him

-malarkey keeps telling you he's a serial killer but he has such beautiful hair

-lipton keeps handing you domestic violence brochures when he thinks no one is looking. you throw them away because you want that fucking ugly gucci belt! and the staring is sort of charming after a while

-possibly has a secret child that he is hiding from you. you're not sure.

-the first time you have sex he chokes you without asking and is confused when you get mad at him over it.

-does coke while eating dry fruit loops cereal in the morning. somehow looks hot while doing it.

Liebgott and Webster:

-challengers level toxic throuple, these two come as a pair!

-liebgott is xanned out so badly on the regular that he does not remember the last time he washed his hands.

-lieb met bill and toye in rehab and now all his friends are undergrads even though he's going on thirty.

-lieb won't kiss you in the morning "goddamn it woman, brush your teeth" but will kiss webster no problem!

-lieb likes webster more, but web likes you more because you don't call him slurs and you let him rant to you about sharks.

-you and web unionize at some point to get liebgott back into rehab. when he's gone you realize your relationship is 200 million times healthier but also extremely boring. you take him back the minute he releases himself AMA.

-lieb cannot figure out how to work tiktok, meanwhile webster has 100k subscribers on youtube and does grwm story time videos.

-you once had to be driven home by babe from the gas station after lieb kicked you out of the car. the fight was because he didn't believe you when you said you were allergic to gluten. babe lets you play cinnamon girl by lana del rey on the way home.

-lieb keeps trying to weaponize therapy language against you, 'baby you're fucking gaslighting me!' webster just makes it worse when he tries to explain what the terms actually mean.

Bill:

-you start dating Bill after he steals you away from Babe. Babe was nice, but you got the ick immediately after realizing he's not the leader of the friend group.

-bill sends you disgusting dick pics with extremely poor lighting. you can see his bottle of lotion in the background.

-you think it's sweet that he brings flowers when you go out until you realize they're stolen from the neighbor's flowerbed.

-you have an extremely lavish jersey shore wedding that culminates in a horrible fight when he shoves cake in your face ruining your 400 dollar makeup (that you paid for) and your 2000 dollar dress (that you paid for). during your vows babe has to hold himself back from saying something when the priest asks if there are any objections.

-DIRTY fingernails! does not wash his hands. gives you a UTI but doesn't understand that it's his fault.

-Doesn't cheat but is always on the brink of it.

-Follows multiple swimsuit models on Insta, claims it's okay because 'sweetheart, listen, it's all on the screen!'

-Is so cheap he refuses to pay for extra sugar for your coffee, 'you've had it bitter before, babe.' you are ready to murder him. takes you to chili's and acts like it's a michelin star restaurant.

Talbert:

-cheats on you immediately. within the first week.

-sends you anonymous texts to get STD tested, too scared to actually go to the clinic but is certain he's dying of syphilis.

-cries to lip for an hour when you leave him for speirs.

Gale Cleven:

-'sweetheart. are you really gonna wear that out to dinner? it's a bit...well... risque.'

-accuses you of being an alchoholic every time you drink, but Bucky has done four Jeagerbombs tonight and isn't getting any lectures. Also. Why is Bucky with you two on your date night?

-is straight but keeps stringing Bucky along because he reminds him of his father and for narcissism reasons.

-marge messages you on facebook to warn you about him, and also to sell you on her new MLM scheme.

-bucky keeps giving you mean little grins as he hangs off your man....you are very close to murdering him.

-you finally leave him after he calls you daddy in bed. not mommy. but daddy.

Bucky:

-gives you chlamidya three weeks into dating. gaslights you into thinking you got it from sitting on a public toilet seat.

-drives drunk while you're in the passenger seat, goes above 90 and almost kills the both of you.

-is in love with gale and you both know it but refuses to talk about it.

-laughs when you start crying over your new STD diagnosis.

-is the worst boyfriend in the entire world. do not date this man!

Leckie:

-cheats on you with vera, but has a jealous meltdown everytime you talk to hoosier at house parties. you were literally just asking the man for a lighter.

-hoosier is stirring shit up for shits and giggles. he keeps liking your thirst trap insta photos, commenting 'photo cred'

-cries when you confront him about cheating. writes a poem to you about how badly hurt he was by the whole situation. says he only did it because that's how he was raised! no one taught him how to love properly!!

-exploits his family trauma at any given opportunity, shameless about it

-writes you sweet yet cringy love poems

-chuckler keeps trying to warn you but is so awkward about it that you just end up super confused

-blows up the minute you try and critique his writing

-tells you you're acting 'just like you're mother!' during arguments

-eventually you break up because you cheat on him with hoosier and he cheats on you again with vera

Hoosier:

-completely emotionally unavailable

-laughs at you in the middle of a fight, then when you storm out he stares at the wall for four hours straight. no blinking. no moving.

-goes to chuckler thinking he's dying because he has a 'weird feeling in his stomach.' the feeling is literally just a crush.

-catches leckie flirting with you. doesn't cause a scene but DOES immediately cheat on you as a retaliatory action. has no idea why you're mad about it.

-determined to hurt you before you hurt him.

-somehow makes you think you're in the wrong due to the sheer FORCE of his conviction that it was okay for him to cheat on you.

-you two break up but get back together after having a baby. the baby is possibly not hoosier's but he's a genuinely good father. (the baby very obviously has leckie's face. no one is fooled.)

-during your wedding ceremony leckie has to be thrown out after making the worst best man speech of all time.

-parent teacher conferences are a nightmare because your child is biting the other kids and is failing all her classes. hoosier blames you for not helping her with her homework. you all go out to souplantation afterwards and he keeps dropping barbs about you being a dumbass.

-the two of you stay married for 40 beautiful years before dying of old age. within those 40 years you separate and get back together a total of 5 times. leckie somehow outlives you both.

Luz:

-is sweet and lovely and handsome and makes you laugh a lot but

-you're banned from six movie theatres, three bars, the pier, disneyland, and a froyo shop

-you don't even LIKE froyo but the fact that you can't fucking go there anymore is driving you up the wall

-you got kicked out of disneyland because he got into a fistfight with donald duck

-his mother HATES you. she is the ultimate boy mom. they are constantly talking about you in Portuguese behind your back. she wears white to your wedding.

-cannot go grocery shopping because he's stopped every five feet by some old acquaintance. you have no idea how he knows any of these people!

Eugene:

-you're his beard but he doesn't know it

-is the ideal gay boyfriend/husband

-buys you flowers and takes you out on beautiful dates. cringes when you try to kiss him

-everything would be PERFECT except snafu keeps creating dummy accounts to harass you, drives by your house at all hours of the night, and you're pretty sure he's planning to SWAT you.

-eugene has no idea why you hate snafu? he's such a sweet guy!

Babe:

-you're a bit embarrassed to tell your friends you're dating him....he's sweet but just so dorky

-almost puked on you after taking a dab at bill's house. you had to comfort him for ten minutes

-long suffering angel who you cheat on because you know he's just too good for you.... better to hurt him before he leaves you first!

-is popular on tiktok somehow. you have no idea how this happened but it did

[henneseyhoe]

Freaky Girl

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS:real ghetto. Y’all know Tyrone a hood nigga anyway. Spit(obvi), Short, not a complete smut buttt it’s still nasty.

SUMMARY: Tyrone gets the rest of his soul taken(if the government didn’t already do that for him)

Ps.I lowkey wanna make this longer into a full smut but idk lmfao

(Gif cr: @tishrivers <3 )

✮✮✮✮

Music with bass boomed through the car crowed street, the neighborhood cul-de-sac he pulled up in being as active as the hood usually is. The place wasn’t run down, but you could tell a couple illegal activities took place here more than often. He was no stranger to environments like this at all though. He grew up around it. Only problem was, this wasn’t his hood, so he was careful.

He made sure not to wear any alarming colors, even leaving behind the blue flag he’d usually wear in the back of his pocket, hanging out for any nigga to see. Not tonight though, he wasn’t even trynna be on that. A nigga couldn’t imagine getting clapped in somebody else hood just for wanting to get some pussy from this fye bitch a few blocks down. He honestly could have just walked, but he wasn’t feeling the idea of freely walking somewhere without his ‘heat’. Especially not around no damn crackheads.

Speaking of said ‘fye bitch’, she was in all honesty more than that, but he knew nothing apart from how some cornbread fed ass shordy he met at a party a month ago wanted what he had in them dickies cargo pants. She was pretty, both street and book smart, but the important part was that she was down for whatever a nigga offered.

He had heard about her around before, but he never really looked into why she was talked about other than the fact that she, again, had a fat ass and use to deal with some known nigga from across the states. Last reason he didn’t give a fuck about actually. All he thought about was if she knew how to take dick or not.

He exits his car and locks it, making his way into the neighborhood fully with a gangster lean in his walk. Like he had something in them pants that could cripple a bitch. All he could smell was weed smoke and burning wood. passing by residents and other guests who had came there for completely different reasons. Feeling cautious, he clutched his belt anytime he felt eyes on him. You could never be too careful.

Finding the girls house, he shakes his head at the hot pink painted front door, making it the only one to stand out apart from all of the other duplexes.

Laying a knock on the door, he leans against the porches iron railings and waits, which felt like forever in his case, though it was only a minute that passed. The door swings open, revealing the thick girl in boy shorts and a cropped tee that was fitted against her breasts, the deep split in the middle already giving him a show. It was obviously cut after being bought, the bottom of the shirt being tacky with loose threading that reveled a bit of her under boob.

“Bout time, nigga. Thought they got yo ass or sum” she moves from the door to let him in, walking back to wherever she came from. He walks in, his eyes fixated on the movement of her ass in those shorts. He couldn’t wait to see how it moved without the shorts restricting her.

He blew off at her comment. “Got? Never that, that ain’t me. A nigga had other things to do, shordy”

She turned to him, her eyebrows cockily raising. “Better than me?”

Silence was passed around with that question lingering around his head, a smirk tugging at the side of his lips as he thought, kicking the door shut with his foot then reaching for his belt.

“Hell nah”

✮✮✮✮

“Fuck—suck that shit” he exhaled, milky white smoke floating from his lips as he slowly leans his head back and entangles his hands in the girls Fulani braids. He was deep down her throat as if there was nothing blocking him from going further, and she was taking it. Imagine throwing a sausage down a hallway.

She licked and sucked along the shaft of his dick like it was hydrating her, her only goal being to get him off at the moment. Pulling him out of her throat, her hands wrap around his thick, long pipe, stroking him while her tongue worked on his balls, using her spit to get it sloppy, how he liked it. She used so much spit that the waist band of the front of his pants was wet down to the zipper.

He could still hear the loud trap music from outside and his high was hitting just right, making the music seem like it was put into some kind of filter. Like his brain chopped and skrewed it for him, his own remix featuring the wet sounds of the girls throat swallowing him whole.

She continued to slurp him up, shamelessly looking up at him with her beautiful slanted eyes, her wispy, recently done eyelashes complementing the shape. Usually girls teared up when giving head because of the pressure, but Y/N? Not one tear could fall from her eyes while doing one of her favorite things; getting some cut.

Feeling him pulse in her throat, she smiled with him still there. He could only look down at her in awe, taking another hit of his blunt to refill his lungs , but to also distract him from busting already, though that was the inevitable once she hallowed her cheeks and tightened her lips around the base of his dick, sucking like she was attempting to pull the nut out of him, which didn’t need much of an attempt since he was already ready to bust back to back in any hole she offered tonight.

He gripped the couch cushion underneath him with his hand, almost dropping his blunt as she sucked up and swallowed every bit of the sweetness he gave her. Not being able to take anymore of the suction, he pulls out of her mouth with a grunt, his hand moving down to grip the base of his dick as more of his essence spurted out onto her plump lips till that was all he could give from that one session.

“Gahdamn” he sighed, still holding himself until the sensation of her mouth went away, leaving his dick continuously bobbing up and down in jerks just from the sight of her. She only hummed out a soft ‘Mmmm’ as she rubbed the rest of his nut along her lips, giving it a gloss like sheen. That made him go crazy, starting to get him hard all over again. Her tongue danced on her fingers, moving the muscle up and down her middle finger and swirling around the tip of her long and exaggerated acrylics.

They were red and curved, decorated with white painted on flowers. It reminded him of the designs back into the 90s.

Standing to her feet, she removed the crop top she wore, releasing the gift given to her by whatever woman who birthed the freak. He would have thanked her momma if he knew her.

✮✮✮✮

Me cause I had that damn song on repeat while writing this 🤭

[the-froschamethyst4]

How much!?

𖤐Pairing: Billionaire! Alejandro x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, hints of smut, rich man Alejandro, language, married couple,

𖤐Summary: When shopping on her own, Y/n sees a beautiful necklace but it was extremely expensive, does she gets it without Alejandro's permission or does she ask?

————

————

Alejandro was at the office and Y/n was getting ready for a shopping spree, she does this every now and then, Alejandro gives her his American Express card and she can spend as much as she wants.

But Y/n never hits the millions or anything, she barely reaches $100,000 the most she spent on was a home store looking for new house decorations and a few new things for the house.

But shopping for new clothes was kind of a different story, she spends as much as her heart desires and Alejandro watches those bank charge stack and he doesn't care as long as his wife was happy he's happy.

Y/n had bags on her arms as she just left Prada with a few new bags, Gucci sunglasses, belts and a dress, LV shoes, YSL shoes and bags, you name Y/n probably just bought it.

As she walked around a jewelry store caught her eye, she needed to get her wedding ring cleaned up.

"Hi ma'am," a lady says walking towards her.

"Hi, I need my wedding ring polished."

"Oh yes, let me see the ring." Y/n placed her hand out and the consultant looked at the ring.

"Lovely ring, your husband has good taste."

"Thank you," she takes her ring off and hands it to the consultant. Y/n walks around the store to look at the jewelry.

A necklace with pearls was on display, it looked like something a Queen or Princess would wear, it was magnificent to look at.

"Are you finding everything alright, ma'am?"

"Yes. This necklace is beautiful."

"I know, a new piece of ours, it goes for $25,000,000."

"Wow, I can see that," the man looks at the bags in Y/n's hands and smiled.

"Would you like to try it on?"

"What? No way, that's so expensive," Y/n says.

"Ma'am you are carrying bags that are worth for 5,000k, I do not mind if you try it on." He says.

"Umm~ if it's alright," he smiles and puts on some silk white gloves, and took it off the black velvet neck stand, and placing it on Y/n's neck, everyone in the store watched how the necklace complemented Y/n's skin and eyes.

"Wow."

"Gorgeous."

"Would you like it miss?" He asks her.

Y/n stares at herself in the mirror moving her head around to get it from better angles on her neck. She didn't even want to touch it or LOOK at it.

Alejandro was tapping his pen against his desk, taking a deep breath and looked out the window that was behind him, he was bored out of his MIND. He wanted to go home and be with his wife and see what she bought.

Alejandro loves having his own personal fashion show when it came to his wife.

Just thinking about her wearing a new LV dress hugging her body just right made him feel...all over the place.

His phone pinged and saw a HUGE charge to his card. His eyes widened and immediately started to call Y/n, she wasn't answering.

"Y/n, what the hell," he mumbles.

Y/n looked at him calling her phone, she just stares at her phone knowing she might have fucked up. Her fingers in her hair as she stares and stares and stares.

The next time he calls, she will answer which didn't take long, she took a deep breath and answered.

"Alejandro."

"Precioso (gorgeous) what was that charge to my phone?" Alejandro sounded like he was trying to stay calm.

"Umm~ Ale, I can explain."

"Start." He says.

"I was just trying to clean my ring and I got caught up in looking at a necklace and spent-"

"25 MILLION DOLLARS!" The calm was broken.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Mi amor," he groans and rubs his temple. "How many times have I told you...BREAK MY BANK!!"

"Huh?" So he wasn't mad?

"You can spend higher, why didn't you?"

"I-I-I...I'm c-confused what?"

"I've told you many times to spend higher and 25 million was all you could do? Mi Corazón (my heart) I want you to make me go broke, a dollar in my bank account broke, I'll get it back, you know I will."

Y/n was so confused.

"B-But-"

"No buts, next time you go shopping break my bank account, anyways, I love you, I have to go, see you at home," he hangs up.

Her phone falls from her hand and looked at the necklace sitting on the black velvet neck stand.

---------

4:00PM

Alejandro was coming home now and Y/n was trying on the new clothes she bought looking at herself in her full body mirror, turning and looking to see how she looks in the back and seeing if her girls in the front looked perfect as well.

"Starting the show without me?" Alejandro asked, placing his blazer on the back of the black leather chair in the shared master bedroom.

"I was going to wait, but you were taking forever," she teased, walking towards him and sitting on his lap. Her arms wrap around his neck as his hands rested on her waist. "You look fucking stunning," he leans forward kissing her neck.

"Thank you, now do you want this fashion show or not?"

"Yes, ma'am," he leans back as she got off his lap, he pours himself a glass of whiskey and watched her come out in a new dress and new heels.

"YSL?" He asks. She just nods, turning to the mirror and looking at it.

Alejandro loves seeing his wife like this, he turns and saw the black velvet neck stand holding the necklace, she bought.

"Ohh~ so that was the 25 million dollar purchase," he points to the necklace.

"Yeah."

"It's pretty." He says, taking a sip from his glass and looking back at her.

"I know, he said it was new and I was technically the first person to wear it," she says sounding excited which made Alejandro smile.

Alejandro placed his glass down and grabbed the necklace off the stand and walked up behind Y/n. Moving it to the front of her neck and clasping it. He stares at her in the mirror.

"It suits you perfectly, mi amor," he kisses her neck and held her against his chest.

"A-Alejandro...I'm not done."

"You still have more?" He asks.

"I bought a lot," she says, with an innocent smile on her face.

"Alright, show me more," he smirks as she walks to her walk-in closet, her door slightly opened and he could see her half naked body.

--------

10:00PM

Y/n and Alejandro were going to an expensive dinner tonight, she was wearing her new dress and new YSL shoes with a new Prada bag and of course that necklace she bought. Alejandro held her hand as they walked in, they were immediately sat because of the restaurant knowing who they both were.

Alejandro and his gorgeously stunning wife.

He sits her down first before going to his chair across from her, they were given a wine menu but Alejandro ordered them a bottle of King Louis XIII, one of the most expensive bottles they have, it reaches to $23,000.

"Do you know what you want?" Alejandro asked.

"I think I'll switch it up tonight from lobster to maybe a beef wellington?"

"A wellington? Normally you don't get it."

"I know, but like I said switching it up," she gives him a soft smile.

"Here is your wine, now what can I get started for you both?" The waiter asked.

"I'll take Kobe beef, they way I like it." Alejandro started.

"Of course, you miss?"

"Could I have bluefin tuna?"

"Of course, now I will be right back," he says.

"Bluefin?"

"Is that okay?"

"Of course, mi amor," he holds her hand and kissed her knuckles.

--------

A few Hours Later

Alejandro and Y/n talked, drink, and ate their dinner and now Alejandro and Y/n were heading down the street just for some ice cream, an expensive dinner with cheap ice cream to fill them up.

It was always something they both did after eating at the restaurant was to eat dinner and go down the road for some ice cream.

It was mainly because Alejandro would treat his wife to everything she could ask for, and when they first met Y/n didn't come from money so the expensive date use to overwhelm her and then afterwards she showed him to an ice cream parlor she came to a lot when she was a little girl.

And to bring back memories and recreate their own Alejandro made it possible for her and in hopes one day they can still do it when they have kids and get older together.

Alejandro and Y/n sat on a metal bench enjoying their ice cream, she snuggled into his side, his hand hand holding his cone and the other resting on her hip.

"Did you like the dinner?" She nods.

"I like dessert better." She smiles up at him.

"One day, I hope we will come here with our kids and when we grow old and gray we will still come here," he says, looking down at her.

"Of course we will, Alejandro," she leans up and kisses his lips.

[pabtsblueliving]

Never Changed

Another song-spo fic. Been feeling Knoxville heavy these past few days. Saw an edit by someone of tik tok of him during the Gumball Rally with this song…brain rot occurred. 

WC 1.2K

Warnings: angst, flirting, semi-established on and off relationship, smoking, drinking, making out, groping etc. 18+

Song: Change (In the House of Flies) by the Deftones

I tried my best making the reader as body neutral as possible, still working on improving!

pabtsblueliving © 2023

You and Knox had been on and off for years. 

It was cat and mouse for as long as you could remember. 

You were a well known model, walking for Versace, Gucci, and Mugler since 2004. You somehow got roped into the Jackass crew when you had went to the first premier of the movie which was a backyard BBQ with celebrities left and right, playboy models and hustler girls walking around everywhere you looked.

Youd shown up with friends, Knoxville stealing you to say hi right after youd grabbed a drink.

“Big fan” He smiled, god that smile

“Likewise” you spoke, shaking his hand.

I watched you change, into a fly

I looked away, you were on fire.

It was breaking up and making up, every few months. Youd fuck, youd fight, youd see him in the tabloids with a new blonde the next day. Then after your declaration of finally being “done with him”...He’d show up backstage of your latest runway show.

I watched a change in you, It's like you never had wings

Now, you feel so alive, I've watched you change

Bam Margera had invited your best friend to come to the bar the Jackass Crew and himself were at in New York City. You knew he would be there, and you told yourself no…don't feel into his ego…don't show him, he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“Come on, Y/N, seriously…for me? You know ive been into Bam lately…And you know all those guys anyways! Who cares if Johnny will be there” Your friend, Melissa, had a big grin, batting her lashes at you.

You looked at her and let your head fall back as you sighed, 

“Fine…Mel, alright I'll come. For. An. Hour” You pointed in her face, walking to your suitcase to pick out something to wear.

She landed a big kiss on your cheek, and you laughed. 

“Y/N, holy shit I love you, I will totally owe you a drink at the bar!” She gleaned, running to put her shoes on. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, fluffing your hair. You'd thrown on your outfit Finishing the look with your harness motorcycle boots, and that one final…accessory.

His belt

God, you'd stolen that belt from him two years ago and he hasn't asked about it back since. The jewelry around your neckline and wrists clanged together as you reached for it. 

It was black, some studs, and his old red Waylon Jennings belt buckle on it. You were wearing it, you had to. Mess with him a little, tease a little, maybe piss him off…who knows what wearing this belt would do to you. 

I took you home, Set you on the glass

I pulled off your wings, Then I laughed

You and Melissa walked into the dive bar in Brooklyn. You had looked around, spotting Wee-man hand standing on the bar while also funneling a beer. 

You and Melissa couldn't help but to groan while laughing, what the hell did we get ourselves into.

“Well, well, I knew you’d be here.” You hear a familiar, Pennsylvanian accent slur.

Melissa turned around, and smiled, giving him a hug. You still had no idea if he had said that to you, or his date who’d finally arrived.

Bam smiled and hugged Melissa, then looked up at you in their embrace, and spoke

“Yeah, I'm talking to you.” He laughed, and Melissa pulled away. “Good luck” He said, accent prominent, and pulling Melissa on his arm towards the other guys.

Melissa looked back and cringed, mouthing ‘Sorry’ as she continued to walk with Bam. A few minutes later, youre standing at the end of the bar, chin in your hand, waiting for your much needed gin and tonic. 

“...So that’s where my belt has been, huh.” You heard that voice, his voice, shit, compose yourself a bit, dont turn around yet.

You kept yourself facing the bartender, feeling Johnny’s looming figure just inches behind you.

“Yeah, well…” You turned around, straw in your lips.

“I always thought it looked better on me, no?” You tossed your hair over your shoulder, taking another sip.

I watched a change in you, It's like you never had wings

Now, you feel so alive, I've watched you change

He looked down at you, and tilted his sunglasses down.

“I take it back…you look quite lovely tonight, Rabbit.” He said softly, taking off his sunglasses fully.

That nickname, he's playing a dangerous game, but he's playing it just right

“Starting already, Knox?” You couldn't help but to smile, you two were like magnets whenever you were five feet within the same space together. 

“Whaaat, Y/N…you’re being mean tonight…are you breaking up with me?” He joked, smiling after his last few words. 

“Don’t you wanna catch up?” His arms slapped against his thighs, grabbing his beer from the bar and taking a sip.

“What to hear about the next blonde youre seeing?” You rolled your eyes, “Dont think im too interested, Knox. 

I look at the cross, then I look away

“Hey…come on now, that's over with…” He stepped closer, you're now trapped between him and the bar. “Come have a smoke with me…” He grinned, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. 

I'm in for it, and now I'm crossing a path that's near impossible to turn around on.

He lit your stick, then his. You had your back against the brick wall, him leaning on the wall on his side, on arm holding him up above his head. 

You both took a drag, making eye contact, not breaking with the other. He exhaled his smoke, stepping closer, his hand with the cigarette stroking the side of your face, thumb going over your lip. 

“I always forget how gorgeous you are, rabbit…” he pulled up your chin as you took another drag

“How do we,” You exhaled the smoke, “always end up like this, huh, John?” 

Your mind was fuzzy, you had a buzz, desire.

“Maybe this is just…meant to be.” He took your cigarette and put it out, grabbing your waist and pulling you in for a smoldering kiss.

You gasped, usually you're able to fend him off for at least another hour. But, the inevitable is going to happen. 

You pulled him in by his belt buckle, whining into the kiss. The feeling of his tongue shooting straight to your core. He tasted like beer and cigarettes, your favorite. 

Give you the gun Blow me away

I watched a change in you It's like you never had wings

His right hand sneaked down, and grabbed a handful of your ass slowly, and he groaned. You took this opportunity to stick your tongue between his lips and grab a handful of his hair.

“PJ” You whined…taking a breath

“Baby, come on, baby, if you call me that you know this will be a long night…” He grabbed you by the chin.

You held his belt buckle, teasing the trail of hair leading down under his dickies.

“So let be long, Knox…” You smiled.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan’s mfw interview clues, talismans and matching ads. 🎤

based from the ones released today: v magazine, tencent fashion, tod’s and mr. bags. nothing too big, just some connection/s to already established cpns. feel free to appreciate and enjoy the interviews for what they are even without clowning. 🫶🏼

* V Magazine China

when he talked about superpowers, he has changed his answer from being invisible, he just wishes that there will be no disputes in the world. tho the topic is really about what he wants a parallel world to be like. interesting answer. i’m gonna wait for wyb to have an interview with a similar question and see if they will match 😂😂😂

he also answered that his style is more casual and comfortable which is exactly the same as wyb answered a similar question. not that we ever doubted how similar their personal style is. they may choose or prefer different pieces, but it has the same feel. this is who they steal each other clothes and blend in when they want to.

how he answered the question what he learned about style is to subtract. which may mean less is more or something like that. it matches what wyb said he learned about a different thing — acting. so i see this as a similarity between them, they don’t do overdo things.

🎤: If you had two hours of free time, where would you like to spend it?

🐰: Just strolling around. A city-walk.

I hope he does this with WYB! We was this happen in a lot of ZZ’s vlogs.

🎤: What is the most surprising thing from Gucci 2024 Autumn/Winter Women’s Wear show?

🐰: I think the biggest surprise is the bag. I like it very much, the shape of the bag is very avant-grade and bold.

His interest in bags is here again 👀 In his 2019 interview for MFW, he was asked about what his favorite accessory and he answered bag. The CPN happened because WYB was asked in an interview of his promotion of a jewelry brand (Emphasis ) about what jewelry he will give to his loved one. he answered a bag. lol. the question is about a jewelry but he still answered something different. who is he thinking about? a certain someone who loves bags?

🎤: Do you have any unforgettable anecdotes during the Chinese New Year that you can share with everyone?

🐰: There seems to be no Chinese New Year because I spent the Chinese New Year with the crew.

A confirmation what we already know, that he spent CNY in HD. the thing we won’t ever know tho is if WYB was there. Tho some clues point to the answer being yes.

* Tencent Fashion interview

Not much here but he just repeated how he loves bags. Lol. && how his priority is to film. I imagine the same is true for WYB.

* Tod’s interview

I didn’t share the translation for that. sorry! here it is in all it’s glory. not much cpn tho because the questions are centered on his clothes and the show.

🎤: After watching the first show of Tod's new creative director Matteo, can you share with us your first impressions?

🐰: Excited! and then when I was watching the show, I have been taking pictures all the time. Because there are many coats which I like it very much, including the bags, and I think it’s a brand-new attempt. You can see the second show, which is very unique especially it is placed at the tram stop in Milan — I heard that this tram stop is still in active service, can still be used.

🎤: What are the highlights of today’s outfit? Can you introduce it to us?

🐰: Today’s outfit is a more elegant and low-key style. It is a design of the collar on this coat, in fact you can see that it is actually a leather material, this collar can stand up, then you can put it on here and put it on in another way. Then, include this pair of shoe which is also my favorite loafer and this belt, it is also has a very unique design, it has a hemp material and then combine it with leather.

🎤: If you were asked to recommend one of the most “Italian” items you saw on the show today, which one would you recommend?

🐰: Ah~ it’s so difficult! I think there is a lot of it — I think it’s leather, I think everything about leather, the coat including leather on it’s shoes and trousers.

🎤: What are the three must- have travel stuffs during fashion week?

🐰: phone, passport, also…also the (important) card.

🎤: In a series of film and television works, how do you think different costumes help shape the character’s image?

🐰: It does help yourself to get into the role better.

🎤: You have been to Milan Fashion Week many times. Compared with the first time, what changes do you feel this time?

🐰: This time I felt more relaxed and also more cordial. There is a feeling of going home, especially there is DDV Yeye ( Tod’s CEO ) just now, he always tell me how he always welcomed me back says “Welcome back!” I felt woah! that moment was very warm. Then, of course there is conscious lifestyles of Tods that can’t live without.

🎤: Not long ago, you sang “As You Wish” at the Beijing TV Spring Festival Gala. What kind of New Year wishes do you have for everyone?

🐰: (smooth and healthy) for everyone

* Interview with Mr. Bags

this is year 3 of his interview with him! it’s one i’m waiting for cause xz is comfortable with & i feel like he can get away with asking more personal questions.

🎤: Yes, then I saw your personal clothes later I did serious study and research of it on internet. I think our Xiao laoshi really have a personal style, is very good at dressing and I just found out that — for example you will wear some hats, then the scarf and then you will also wear some of these big coats?

XZ: That’s right.

🎤: It looks warm, it has a sense of youth.

XZ: In fact, I felt it safer and then it’s more comfortable because I’m actually myself, in terms of personal clothing I prefer not too many colors, It is mainly; gray, black series and white colors. Those that are comfortable to wear and can’t go wrong and also most effective.

same thing about his personal style and what colors he chooses which is very close to wyb’s.

🎤: I also heard that Xiao Zhan is actually a very homely person. If it weren’t for work then you would just stay at home so I wonder what you usually do when you are at home?

XZ: Actually, I can also play games, sometimes I will have fun, but for most of time I spend my time working out.

this matches some recent fake rumors. 😭😭😭 especially with the part about how xz prefers to stay-in. and then how he likes to play games! who does he play games with??? WYB. there are already a couple of fake rumors and interviews of them talking about the two playing! it’s so nice to hear it from xz.

THE ALLEGED TALISMAN. 💛

p1 is GG recently, from his flight back home and p2 is a not so clear photo of WYB’s phone during HB screening where you can see what looks like a yellow paper. I have no question that GG does this, we have seen it before. but i like the idea of WYB doing something similar, maybe GG even drawing one for him. and this may be the reason why they chose this type of card case.

Finally, the matching ads by Shu Uemura and Loreal. Two different brands and products but I can’t help but see the similarity with the ads 🥹🥹🥹

-END.

[luimagines]

What about modern clothing headcanons for the boys, I think wild would wear one of those shirts with the wolves looking at the moon and a pair of khaki shorts

I need to see Time in his black turtle neck, tucked into some black slacks with a brown belt. Don't ask questions.

Twilight had a read flannel somewhere and blue jeans paired with with either beaten down sneakers that have seen better days, or cowboy boots.

Warrior is likely to wear brand clothes. He probably has Gucci or Prada- dresses like a real life Ken Doll.

Legend probably wears things like basketball shorts and Nike t-shirts. Wears Jordans

Hyrule would wear torn demin jeans that have seen better days, beat up converse and a simple black t-shirt.

Sky is the King of Comfy. Cable knit sweaters and simple brown slacks. Likes sweatpants.

Four probably wears more athletic wear. (Yes, I'm stealing this headcanon). He could pass for a 80's jazzerise host. Just trade the leotard for the classic grey sweat pants and you're good to go!

Wind wears FnaF Walmart t-shirts with a mafia head Freddy on the front with demin shorts and light up shoes because they're awesome.

Wild dresses like you said. It's perfect. No updates, changes or alterations' please and thank you.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Duchess - A Sean Wallace/Sex Worker!Reader One Shot Story.

This mans has me feeling a certain way. Feral. So yes, you get to enjoy it, too!

Words - 1,810

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Sean Wallace is a man who thrives on the exertion of control, in every aspect of his life. Every facet is subject to meticulous planning and detail, his time valuable. If you are in his life, you serve to him a purpose, otherwise you are merely a waste of time he could spend being productive elsewhere. He enjoys the finely tuned machine that is building his life with those who serve him well in a professional capacity, and this is exactly why he sees you twice weekly.  

“I do not entertain the notion of dating or relationships. They're much too complicated. Way too time consuming.”  

He told you this upon your first meet, when you inquired why he sought the services of a high-class escort.  

“Trust me, you are exactly what I am searching for.” 

You aim to please, and god, what a pleasure it is to please him. He’s young, he’s powerful and he’s incredibly handsome. And rich, wealthy enough to afford the high price tag attached to the services you provide. And goodness, how the man can fuck. Sometimes, you often think it should be you paying him for the way he so expertly pounds you into your bed.  

Rarely do you enjoy yourself so honestly with a client, have the pleasure you give to him matched in such delicious reciprocation. With Sean, he never deviates from being anything short of an incredible lover. 

‘Wear black tonight. You know I like you best in black.’ 

You tingle with anticipation at reading his text, knowing you only have mere hours to wait until your favourite client will arrive at your Wharfside apartment.  

Once your makeup and grooming routine has been executed pristinely, black Victoria’s Secret underwear donning your freshly bathed body, a black Gucci dress chosen, and perfume spritzed strategically, you are ready. He doesn’t keep you waiting.  

“Good evening, duchess.” Those words, delivered upon a silky-smooth, cut-glass accent causes heat to rise over your skin, Sean entering your apartment, waiting for you to lead him through to the bedroom. He always lets you lead. Why? So that his hands can wander over your body as your walk, appreciating the swing of your hips, the way the black cloth hugs your curves, to lay kisses upon the back of your neck as he closes the space between you.  

Feeling the heat of his body against your back has a flurry of heat gathering between your legs, your dress eased down, his strong hands smoothing over the fabric of your underwear. “You look sensational, as always.” With his mouth at your neck, you feel mindless already, but not so much that you don’t notice him discreetly place a smooth, white envelope upon the shelf beside the bedroom door, your fee within for the transaction you would happily give him for free, should this not be your chosen profession. 

It never feels like work with him, though. 

You turn to him, his eyes a chilling freeze of blue, the angles of his face shadowed in the low light of the room. Some sex workers insist on no kissing, feeling such an exchange too intimate. You’ve always thought that to be nonsense, taking into mind the intimacy of penetration. A man puts his cock in you, but his lips may not meet yours?  

No. Not in your bedroom.  

Your mouths join in sensual exploration, his tongue rolling against yours as your fingers begin to work deftly to undress him, revealing the utter grandeur of his body. Lithe muscles concealed within the expanse of pale, freckle flecked skin delight your eyes, your tongue circling his nipple before you sit at the foot of your bed.  

His thumb trails your lip as you look up at him, hands unfastening his belt, stripping him nude, perhaps the most impressive part of him already hard and waiting for your attentions. undoubtedly, he has the most perfect cock you’ve ever seen, and in your profession, you’ve seen many.  

“How much extra would I have to pay you, to not use a condom?” 

“You couldn’t afford it.” 

“I’ve never been fond of those who presume they can dictate my finances. Will another five hundred suffice?” 

“No.” 

“Seven fifty?” 

“No.” 

“A thousand, and a letter from my doctor confirming a clean bill of health, STI wise?” 

Never let it be said that Sean Wallace is not a skilled negotiator, that conversation between you many months ago the only reason why when your tongue runs in a slow, firm lick from the base to tip of his cock, there’s no latex barrier between them. He shudders, a breathy exclamation fluttering over his full lips as he feels the warmth of your mouth encase him, sliding down over his thick shaft, his fingers trailing your scalp as they comb through your hair.  

With your mouth working in slow, wet tease and your fingernails gently trailing up and down his back, you have him winding tight in no time, his groans deep and full bodied. “You always look so very pretty, when you have my cock in your mouth.”  

Watching you sucking upon him with such expert aplomb, his eyes the fall closed, his chest beginning to heave as his breaths shallow, the thick bulk of him twitching against your tongue. “Not that I do not adore your mouth, duchess, but for now, there is a place upon you that I wish to put mine even more.”  

Sparks of anticipation flicker through you as he pushes you back onto the bed, his body covering yours, hands roaming as he begins to scatter kisses across your neck. His exploration is slow, careful, his mouth laying kisses to every part of your body revealed from the removal of your underwear, the heat of his skin searing. His mouth takes time to lower, his tongue swirling your navel as his hands bracket your waist, lowering, lowering.  

You gasp softly, his tongue meeting the velvet of your cunt, dragging your slit firmly. A few more long, slow licks skim your folds, the hot roll of his tongue settling upon your clit, a radiance of pleasure blooming deep within you. Some men have no clue what on earth to do with a woman where pleasing her with their mouth is concerned; Sean is not one of them.  

Closing his mouth around you, he sucks at you, pupils inking into the blue as he feels the honey of your cunt bathing his tongue, a grunt welling his throat, hands grasped firmly upon your hips. You can see him smiling around you, watching as you throw your head back and cry out, knowing your performance isn’t amped up for effect. It’s all him.  

Your cries continue to sound the air in blissful sonnet, his tongue fluttering over your clit, featherlight licks making it swell, beating harder and faster, then back to gentle as the pleasure sears right to your marrow. You feel it settling deep, your core throbbing, purring with delight as your fingers skim through his hair, your back arching off the bed as you writhe against the heaven that is his tongue.  

Wet heat works your bud with the kind of skill that leaves you breathless, fire chasing frost through your veins, the feel of his neatly trimmed beard prickling at where you are soft and soaking for him offering delicious friction. He pauses, teasing at you with his fingers before they push inside, hooking, his lips planting hot kisses against your inner thigh, watching you begin to fall apart for him.  

The pleasure sparks like a flint strike, those little illuminations skittering over your nerves as he returns his tongue to you, gentleness gone as he lays keen, unrelenting licks across your clit. Pure ebullience beams brightly, your panting ascension chased by the punch of his fingers within the wet clasp of your cunt and the rapid flickers offered by a tongue that does not cease until you’re cresting hard for him. 

Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, thighs skimming his face as your flames catch against his edges, your release a glittered explosion that leaves you breathless and hungry to be parted around his cock. Of course, he reads your need, pushing your legs apart before sinking himself into you, your walls flexing as he splits you wide, mouth closing around your nipple to suck keenly, his cock bottoming out and dragging back so deliciously slowly, you feel on the verge of tears.  

Kissing the whimpers from your lips, he holds you beneath him, moaning against your tongue as he pushes forth again, gliding through the soaking mess of your cunt. He fills you entirely, mouth at your neck as strong snaps from his hips shock you, pulling out entirely, teasing you with the promise of him, chuckling at your frustration as he nibbles the soft skin of your throat.  

“Does the duchess crave it, hmm?” 

“Mmm,” you purr, stroking his handsome face, watching him catch your fingers between his lips and suck. “She always does when it’s you giving it.” 

He moans a laugh, kissing you. “Correct answer.” The silken glide of him has you lost in ecstasy, his mouth touring the other side of your neck, tongue flickering where your pulse flutters madly, filling and emptying you steadily.  

The rhythmic, contained pace is not set to last, the need with him coiling like an angry serpent as he gives each thrust with voracity, his short nails digging into your thighs as he sits back on his heels, watching how good it looks as his cock fills and enters you rapidly. 

He arrows you thoroughly, every last inch of him sinking into the wet clutch of your cunt as you open for him, panting hard, your moans filling the room as he has you spread and helpless before him, fucking you like a jackhammer. He slows then, thumb languidly swirling over your clit, each thrust more contained, dragging sparks as he scrapes your walls, bending to suck your nipples in turn with an aroused grumble.   

That slowness is abandoned once more, Sean railing you into the bed, loving the way you wail for him, hand stroking your cheek before he grasps your jaw in a strong grip, feeding you his thumb as he looks at you with uncontained lust. It escalates sharply, consummation rushing through you as lightning flickers at the base of your spine, striking home as he closes his eyes tightly and moans gutturally, spilling into you, thick ropes of cum warming your fluttering walls further. 

You lie breathless against one another, knowing that all he needs is a whiskey and half an hour, and he shall be all over you again.  

And he’s the one paying you. What satisfying work it is to be on the sexual payroll of a man both criminal in the streets, and between the sheets. 

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Conversation About Death with Those Who Laugh

So, another one for the Ghostbusters au. I'm telling you, stick with me here. This is a reader x König, don't get me wrong, but I like keeping him in the basement as my nasty little science gremlin.

I had a crush on Egon as a kid. Is it a surprise I cast König as Egon? We will never know.

TW: Conversation about death and religion

Wordcount: 2.5K

Story below cut

A Conversation About Death with Those Who Laugh

You opened your locker and sighed.

You knew this was coming, there was no way around it, but it still didn’t help with the knowledge that you’d be looking like you were a paper bag princess running around with a blaster pack strapped to your back until you either kicked the bucket or gave up on paying rent on time. Of the two options, you figured you’d rather be stuck in the brown jumpsuit than out on the streets.

You pulled out your suit to get a better look at it, not even bothering to even attempt to hide the sheer contempt you held on your face for the offensive clothing.

“It’s not pretty, but it’s damn useful,” Roze called from behind you.

You turned around to face her with a raised eyebrow.

“Useful? This?” you shook the garment for extra measure.

“Sure is,” Roze nodded as she leaned against a wooden pole, “you know, it’s insulated so you won’t get blasted by anybody’s proton packs. That, and it cleans up real easy.”

“Does it get sweaty?” you asked before taking a tentative sniff of the rubber suit.

“Nah,” Roze flipped her hair from her face, “unless you count getting slimed.”

You gave her a dark look that only made the older woman laugh.

“You heard me. Slimed. Just ask Horangi about it.”

You shook your head before turning back to your locker. You hoped you could do something to spruce it up with time, but seeing as it was still just your first day on the job, you had more important things to think about. Namely, how your self esteem will handle wearing the shittiest uniform you’d ever had the misfortune of laying your eyes upon.

“Who even designed this thing?” you grumbled as you forced your feet through the pants.

“Blame König,” Roze snorted, “he wanted it to be puke green.”

“Fucking… Ugh.”

You managed to drape the uniform over yourself before zipping up the front. At the very least, the utility belt helped pinch in the waist to give it a bit more form. It still looked horrible. At the very least, the washed out brown looked better than whatever König had in mind.

You turned to look at your back in the mirror, where the logo of the company sat square on your back.

“Look at you!” Roze whistled, “you’re rocking it”

“Thanks,” you grumbled, “I look like shit.”

“Better than barf,” Roze reminded you.

“Whoever this König guy is, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind when I see him,” you muttered under your breath.

“He’s just European,” Roze shrugged.

“Isn’t Paris in Europe?” you huffed, “he could at least get a fashion designer or something to help…”

“We’re too cheap for Gucci,” Roze sauntered over to your side, “but you’re better off with than without. Cleaning out ectoplasm ain’t no easy task.”

“You’re really hammering in this ‘ghost busting’ business, aren’t you?” you snarked as Roze put her fists on her hips.

She shifted her weight to one leg and sighed, “You’re not getting it. We really do hunt ghosts. They’re real as you and me.”

“I’ve never seen any ghosts,” you retorted, “I thought you guys were scientists. Aren’t you all about tangible evidence or something?”

“Oh you’ll see ‘em soon enough,” Roze chuckled.

“You keep saying that,” you adjusted your hefty utility belt, “but I’ve seen nothing so far.”

“Look,” Roze put her hand on your shoulder, “you’re new. Why don’t you talk to Nikto? He was just like you when he came on the force. If you won’t believe me, maybe talk to someone who came here just like you.”

You locked eyes with her, holding her dark stare for a brief moment before tch-ing and looking back at the mirror.

“We’ll see.”

—

You strolled into the breakroom and plopped yourself down in the seat across from Nikto. You couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask, but the way his head twitched was enough for you to feel like he at the very least acknowledged you. Or, well, you hoped that’s what it meant.

“So…” you drew out carefully as you stirred your drink, “you came here from where again?”

“Russia,” Nikto pulled his mask’s shroud out to duck his cup of coffee behind it and take a long slurp.

“Russia?” you perked up, “where abouts in Russia?”

Nikto tilted his head before snorting, “What would it be to you? You wouldn’t know the name.”

“So not Moscow?” you smiled sheepishly.

“No,” he chuckled, “on the opposite side of the country.”

You nodded along, “Yeah I wouldn’t have any idea where that is. But what I’m really asking is why did you come all the way to New York?”

Nikto hummed and swayed his head thoughtfully before saying, “I wanted to get away from home. So I decided to come here, where I could get a new life.”

“But why did you come here, to the Ghostbusters?” you pressed.

“They were the first people to hire me,” Nikto lowered his now empty coffee cup to the scuffed folding table, “I didn’t know much english, so they were good for helping me learn.”

“So you didn’t come here because you believed in ghosts,” you concluded, falling back into your white folding chair with your arms crossed.

Nikto was silent as he examined you, his dark eyes flicking over you from deep within the recesses of his shoddy Scream mask.

“Somewhat,” he admitted quietly, “in my village, my mother would tell me ghost stories to help me sleep. Small town people live differently. Ghosts and spirits, little men, they all have a place at home. But I grew older and went to the city, and I forgot what I learned back home.”

“And then you came here.”

Nikto nodded slowly, “Then I came here. All those bedtimes stories I had laughed at were real! Imagine my surprise.”

“What made you change your mind?” you gave him a curious look.

He shrugged a shoulder and said, “I saw them. It is hard not to believe your eyes.”

“Okay but it could just be-”

“It is harder to not believe when they attack you.”

Well that was different.

“They… Attack you?” you carefully asked.

“Well of course!” Nikto chuckled heartily, “Roze explained it to me long ago, but this is what I remember. Ghosts are the leftovers of life. When a living thing does not feel that they are finished when they die, a ghost will be left behind. They are not really people anymore. They’re more… Emotions. Wants, needs. They are the shadows of what a person was.”

“So when you stop a ghost from doing what it wants to do…” you trailed off.

Nikto’s eyes crinkled with mirth, “That’s right. They get angry.”

The high salary of the job was making sense now.

“So how do you fight a ghost?” you asked, giving Nikto the benefit of the doubt.

“Roze and Horangi made a box to put them in, and König made a gun to shoot them with,” Nikto spoke frankly, “I like the shooting, but the trapping is not so fun.”

“So you’re like…” you rolled your wrist as you struggled to find an appropriate simile, “pest control or something.”

“Exactly,” Nikto affirmed, “we clean up pests.”

If it weren’t for the fact that Nikto was so straightforward, you’d have assumed he was completely insane. The idea of being a ghost exterminator was completely insane.

“How can a ghost even be a pest?” you scoffed, “it’s just a ghost.”

As Nikto was about to speak, Roze bustled into the room and sat down at the table.

“We’re talking about ghost busting?” she leaned in with a wide smile.

“You explain it to the recruit. You’re better at this than I am,” Nikto crossed his arms and slumped back into his chair, evidently relieved by Roze’s sudden appearance.

“Okay so, what’re you asking about? What makes ghosts? Where they come from? Where they go? What they’re made of? What they do-”

“Why do you need to get rid of them?” you butt in before Roze could run out of air. The thought of making the poor woman pass out on the first day wasn’t exactly on the top of your priority list.

You were brought out of your daze when Roze grinned wildly and slammed her fists on the table.

“Alright! We’re asking these kinda questions!” she cheered, “okay, so, first things first, you know what makes them?”

You shrugged as Nikto cast a curious eye to you, “Nikto said that they were made of emotions left behind by a dead person?”

Nikto nodded his head side to side, not quite satisfied with your answer but Roze was quicker to reply.

“Okay so yes and no,” Roze pulled out a blank piece of paper and a blue uniball pen, “so, ghosts are impressions of the recently deceased, yes, but they’re so much more! See, ghosts are mostly left behind by the living, but not all ghosts.” Roze drew a person, then a drawing of multiple stick men. She pointed at the singular person. “So when ghosts are left behind by a single person, they’re mostly just annoying. They just cause problems in the area around where they died. Depending on the type of person the person was in life, it determines the radius of the distance they can travel from the point where they died.

“When ghosts are created by a single person, they’re normally not too powerful, but they can sure be obnoxious. They can cause all sorts of problems, from causing damage to the foundations of the building they’re in to even physically attacking anyone who comes within their radius. It really depends.”

Roze drew the tip of her pen over to the drawing of a group of people and tapped it twice, “Now this is the bigger issue. When people come together to believe in something, it can create an entity all on its own. This is not something living that has died, this is something that was created entirely by the emotions of the living. Now, they’re some cool examples of this!

“Some figures from folklore can be ghosts, like dragons and unicorns and giants and all that. The boogeyman is a particularly powerful entity that haunts mostly young children. That’s right! It’s real! If a child believes in the boogeyman, they can be visited by the entity.”

You waved your hand with a scoff, “You’re telling me dragons are real? You’re fucking joking.”

Roze leveled you with a grim expression, “Oh they are more than real. They are incredibly dangerous, but that’s beside the point. Thing is, sometimes when people believe in things enough, it creates them. Monsters of myth can be created this way. Or, they can be a bit more dangerous.”

“More dangerous than a dragon?” you shook your head, “pft, get real.”

Roze rolled her eyes but turned back to the paper and started drawing again. Soon, a rudimentary drawing of an animal on an altar appeared.

“Is that meant to be a dog?” Nikto squinted at the paper.

“That’s a lamb! Get some eyes on ya, Nikto,” Roze huffed, but carried on with a quick tap of her pen, “so yeah, when humans come together to believe in something in a religious sense, like in a cult, they can create entire gods to control the universe.”

“So God is a ghost?” you drawled.

“No clue,” Roze admitted, “I have been trying to do more research, but I’m banned from every catholic church in the city.”

“In the entirety of New York City?” you blinked.

“Yeah but that’s another story,” Roze waved you off, “point is, it’s particularly dangerous when there are cults. So sometimes, with cults, they can want to exchange a lack of morality with a ‘higher power’. So when a cult truly believes they are dealing with a devil, if they believe enough and believe for long enough, a demonic entity can actually form.”

Nikto shivered across from you, making chills crawl up your spine. Something about the big scary Russian man being scared of a single word rubbed you the wrong way.

“So if demons are real, does that mean angels are too?” you asked.

“Some,” Roze nodded, “but you’d be surprised how many worship demons.”

“They create monsters they cannot control,” Nikto spat.

You glanced between the two. You hoped they were both clinically insane because the severity of their expressions spoke volumes you did not wish to hear.

“So how often do we, uh, deal with the devil or whatever?” you asked nervously, tensing with the change of atmosphere in the room.

Nikto and Roze exchanged a glance.

“Not often,” Roze cast you a half-hearted smile.

“Too much for comfort,” Nikto muttered under his breath.

“But hey!” Roze broke out into a full grin, “you won’t have to deal with one anytime soon!”

“Hopefully,” Nikto grumbled.

“Hopefully,” Roze admitted, “but still! I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You nodded along with the information. The more you learned, the more you wanted to believe in what these people were telling you. Maybe it was just the end result of the repetition of a lie, but a part of you felt there was something deeper to what they were talking about. Anyways, why would you get a six figure salary for doing nothing? Something was amiss.

“So, you usually just deal with the regular old, you know, ‘boo’ ghost? Right?” you asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah,” Roze leaned back in her chair, “smooth sailing for the most part.”

“So who even calls you?” you asked.

“Mostly people who need help with a haunting,” Roze flipped her hair from her face.

“But how do they know that they’re being haunted?” you scrunched your eyebrows together.

“What else do they have to turn to?” Nikto chuckled, “we’re a last resort.”

“So how do you know if there’s been a haunting?” you lay your hands on your stomach as you leaned into your chair.

“Lots of signs,” Roze shrugged, “could be slime oozing from the walls, mysterious writing on the mirrors, unexplained noises, things being moved around, but the real thing you gotta worry about is if they report scratch or bite marks,” Roze shot your a serious look, “any type of physical harm is a reason to worry.”

You nodded slowly as you took it all in. You still wanted to fight, tell them ghosts aren’t real and dig your heels in to spite your fate. The only problem was that Roze and Nikto didn’t seem crazy in the slightest, but were making more and more sense as they spoke. Nothing they were saying contradicted itself.

You wanted to ask more, but just as you opened your mouth, a blaring siren cut through the air like a banshee’s wail. You ducked and covered your ears but Roze and Nikto were on their feet in an instant.

“Whelp,” Roze took your elbow to help you stand up straight again, “looks like it’s time to figure it all out for yourself.”

AU Masterlist

[hevexns-realm]

Boys Fashion headcanons in my ✨AU with no name✨

Sonic: Y2K inspired style, may not be exactly how it is back in the day, but it’s pretty damn close! Tank tops, baggy jeans, Air Forces, and sometimes brings a boom box with him. For the more feminine style, arm and leg warmers, multiple belts and jelly bracelets, and yes, a fur hat. However, it’s synthetic and the only one he owns. It’s actually a gift from amy!

Shadow: he’s usually going to be wearing some kind of biker-esque style. Leather boots, slightly baggy Jeans, fluffy leather coat, etc. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wear other styles outside of missions. Particularly more gothic attire, and even a few good drag queen looks too! (Headcannon I saw on here and I’m running with it-)

Silver: hm.. I honestly say the soft boy aesthetic from 2020-2021 would suit him when he’s not on missions! Soft sweatshirts, a good pair of white slacks, and maybe some white sneakers too! Add a cute satchel and we’re good to go! ^^

Knuckles: same as sonic, but just the masculine parts. Baggy jeans, tank top or short sleeved shirts, and some of his tribe’s jewelry and other accessories to match with the outfit!

Tails: I’d say the steampunk look would suit him best, after all, he’s a mechanic and an engineer! It makes sense why he’d prefer something like steampunk! (Simplified or not is up to you!)

Mephiles: My personal favorite of these headcanons so far. Anything Princey and gothic? He will give it a try! However, goth academia and goth ouji seem to be his favorites! Lots of intricate and beautiful lace, black slacks, masculine corsets, and a cute black and purple parasol to match! (I’ve had this headcanon for a hot minute!)

Scourge: We all know that he has this punk-like style with the leather jacket and sunglasses, but I wanna add onto it! Baggy jeans with sewn on decals from his adventures, a few tattoos, and usually no shirt, to show off his scar. However, if the place does require a shirt, he just either zips up his jacket or wears a white T-shirt.. he probably won’t be happy about it though! ^^||

Nazo: hm.. this is actually a tough one, as I didn’t really think about his general wardrobe. However, I feel like he’d have something for just about every occasion. Something simple and year-round like button up shirts and slacks or dark jeans. Because you can do a lot of styling with those alone, like add on a waistcoat and a suit jacket over the shoulders, and some simple, yet classy gold jewelry!

Seelkadoom: Now, you think that it’d be easy to give seelkadoom a hybrid style between shadow and sonic! Well, you’re half right. While that’s his base style of leather jackets and boots mixed with some jeans, the man fluctuates his style like his customers do with alcohol at the casino he works at! Not to mention work dress codes as well!

King (my OC): he’s kind of the same as nazo, but instead of more quiet luxury, he’s wearing more brand names. Like gucci T-shirts, Louis Vuitton jackets with their LV logo on it, Nike sweatpants, etc. He also sometimes wear those cheap looking $200+ cosplays you see on the internet. He mainly does this to get girls’ attention, but yeah. He’s basically all about being on trends and finding things to turn into trends, whether the others like it or not.

Girls will be next, sound off your headcanoned styles in the comments/reblogs! 🖤

[somethingkindazainy]

♡ Pairing: Minho x Jisung ♤ Genre: Mafia AU, Romeo x Romeo ♢ Chapter Warnings: foul language throughout, mxm sexual intercourse (suggestive language) ♧ MINORS DNI

♤ ♡ TASTE Synopsis & Chapter List ♢ ♧

<< Chapter 2 - The DLC ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack >>

Chapter 3: Broken Compass

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho steps into his apartment and clicks on a lamp on the side table. 

“You live here?” Jisung gawks at him. “But it’s so–”

“Careful.”

“–homey.” Jisung finishes and Minho can’t help but smile at him.

His apartment has a spacious living area, with large panoramic windows, overlooking a stone walled balcony bordered with various shrubs, herbs and flowers, and expensive and expansive views south over the Han River. In the centre of the room, there’s a black leather corner sofa facing a flat screen television on the wall and numerous bookshelves. The kitchen, all white granite and units, takes up one corner of the open planned space, separated by a breakfast bar and two chrome and black leather stools. His bedroom door, off to the side.

Minho slips off his Gucci shoes and sets them in the shoe rack. Hangs his keys on the hook behind the door. He’s about to take off his jacket when he remembers he’s wearing his knife belt on his shoulder and thinks better of it.

Jisung is crouching at his side, unlacing his boots, before he stands and steps out of them. Without them he’s probably an inch shorter than Minho and—

“What on earth are those?”

Jisung looks down to where Minho is pointing. He’s wearing bright pink socks adorned with lime green love hearts. He wiggles his toes. Smiles up at Minho. “Don’t you like them?”

Minho tries to reconcile this Jisung against the one he’d met at the club; the sexy Jisung. Who became the Jisung who fights as well as he does, who in turn wears ridiculous socks inside combat boots.

“The views from up here are insane,” Jisung walks over to the windows. He looks small and beautiful, backlit by the twinkling city skyline beyond. Minho turns on some lamps, bathing the room in warm yellow light and straightens some of the mint-coloured cushions on the couch. Lifts the legal papers he’d been reading from the glass coffee table and secretes them in a sideboard drawer. Absently touches the leaves of his bamboo plant, and reminds himself to water her tomorrow. 

“You keep flowers?” Jisung says, frowning at the large container with pale pink cosmos. He arches an eyebrow at Minho. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Judgemental,” Minho says, and he’s smirking, partly at his own wit.

“Touche,” he starts looking around the living space, head tilting back at the high ceiling, then slowly down again, settling on the bamboo at Minho’s side, “and you have house plants,” he’s moving now, head tilted as he reads the titles of the books on his bookshelves, his slender fingers caressing their spines, “you read,” he’s at the kitchen now, fingers walking over his cookbooks, “and you like to cook?”

“Stop compiling your list,” Minho pushes his hands into his pockets. He’s not used to this. Not used to being assessed in this way. Any previous acquaintances he’s had over before were in the bedroom and gone the next morning. They didn’t have time to analyse. Minho preferred it that way.

And Jisung smiles. It’s not the smile Minho has become familiar with, the flirtatious half-smile, it’s an unguarded gummy-grin and it is like sunshine. If Minho thought his smile was pretty before, then this, this is fucking gorgeous. He’s pretty impressed with himself that he hasn’t crossed the room to seize hold of that forbidden waist. You brought him here so he could get cleaned up. Nothing more. You missed that chance.

“And… you have a cat?” Jisung lifts a box of kibble, brandishing it as evidence.

“Soonie,” Minho says automatically.

“Soonie-Soonie-Soonie,” Jisung coos.

“You’re wasting your breath he doesn’t come when—” there’s a tinkle of a bell, small curious cat chirps and Soonie trots out of the bedroom. He merely glances at Minho like, ‘oh, you’re here,’ before trotting over to Jisung, tail in the air.

 The traitorous little shit!

“Oh hi!” Jisung croons as he crouches down into an impossibly small shape, his knees level with his shoulders, his arse almost touching the tiled floor. Minho resolves to not think about Jisungs flexibility. In fact, he is not thinking about it at all. Is absolutely not thinking about it. And he’s definitely not tilting his head at how curvaceous Jisung’s arse is either. He is, though, wondering why someone so fucking pretty, wears ridiculous socks inside combat boots. Although the heels of them are very close to that arse– 

No, no. We are not thinking about that, Minho straightens up.

 Jisung holds out his right hand and allows Soonie to sniff it. “I know, I’m all dirty aren’t I?” Soonie rubs his chin against Jisung’s fingers. Purrs. Like, actually fucking purrs, for someone who is essentially a stranger. The little cat whore. In the thirteen years Minho has had him, he has never, not once, shown a modicum of interest in another human. It’s the one thing they have always had in common. Or so he thought.

Minho makes use of Jisung’s distraction and heads to his bedroom. He removes his jacket and tosses it onto the white bedspread, flicks on a bedside lamp, puts his phone on charge whilst he unbuckles his holster and drops it into the bedside draw. Retrieves the bloodied brass knuckles and drops them in there too.

In the adjoining bathroom, he washes his bloodied hands and face. Grabs an armful of soft white towels from the linen cupboard and sets them on a stool beside the shower. 

Back in the bedroom he pulls a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants from his wardrobe and sets them on the bed. He drops a pair of boring white ankle socks on top of them. Considers offering up a pair of boxers, but thinks that could be viewed as a bit weird, or is it weirder not offering underwear? Isn’t it weirder to expect him to freeball in a pair of your sweats?

He is still debating when Jisung appears at the bedroom door, Soonie curled in his arms, tail swishing lazily. “You okay?”

Minho blinks. Whether he’s blinking at Soonie contentedly letting a stranger hold him, or at how lovely he looks in Jisung’s arms, or how lovely Jisung looks holding him, he’s not entirely sure. But there’s something… like a déjà vu level of familiarity. He blinks several times. “Uh, yeah. I think these might be a bit big for you, but they’re clean,” he gestures to the small pile of clothes at the foot of his bed. “There’s fresh towels in the bathroom too, if you want to take a shower?”

Jisung smiles warmly, allowing Soonie to jump from his arms onto the bed. Strokes the length of him, from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, Soonie arching into his touch. “Thank you,” Jisung says as he lifts the clothes. 

“No problem,” Minho says, returning to his wardrobe to find a change for himself, or to shield himself from Jisung. He unclasps his cufflinks, sets them in his jewellery tray. He hears Jisung step into the bathroom and lock the door. Until this moment, Minho didn’t know his bathroom door had a lock. He’d never had cause to lock it himself and certainly never had anyone here long enough, let alone use his shower…

He’s still fumbling with the buttons of his shirt when he hears the shower running and tries very hard not to think about Jisung in there. Naked. The water trailing over is skin, down his back, that waist, that arse–

Giving up on the remaining buttons, he wrenches his blood-spattered shirt over his head, drops it into the wash basket and rounds on Soonie, “Explain yourself.”

Soonie sits on the bed, looks up at him and tilts his head, like, ‘What?’

“You know what I’m on about,” Minho hisses at him.

Soonie chirps in a manner that suggests that he doesn’t know and his actions have been nothing but ordinary. He licks his paw as though he’s making a point.

“You’re a traitor,” Minho says but scritches him under the chin because he’s too fucking cute, even when he’s behaving like a twat. 

Minho changes quickly into a pair of navy sweats and a black tank top. Shoves his jacket and trousers into a separate basket he uses for dry cleaning. Gently squeezes Soonie’s ear as he passes.

Barefooted, he pads out into the kitchen, inspects his cupboards and the fridge. Realises that he’s woefully understocked, decides that omelettes will have to do. 

He’s dishing up when Jisung reappears, looking completely alien and incredibly attractive. Minho’s t-shirt looks oversized on him, the baggy sleeves reaching past his elbows. All the makeup he’d been wearing is gone, revealing a beauty mark on his left cheek and softening the roundness of his dark brown eyes. His damp hair is curling at the ends. If it wasn’t for the cut lip, Minho would think this was an entirely different person. Mentally, he ticks off the Jisungs he’s met this evening. Sexy Jisung. Fighter Jisung. Effortlessly attractive Jisung. 

Look at you, making a list. Seungmo would be proud.

Jisung’s holding a bundle of clothes in his arms, “Do you have a shopping or trash bag I can put these in?”

Minho sets the frying pan down, sucks some sauce off his thumb, “Give them here,” he takes them from Jisung, stoops down, shoves the jeans, tank top, boxers (tries not to think about Jisung going commando) and offensive socks into the washer-dryer, and inspects the shirt. Pure silk. He takes it to the sink, drops it in the basin, and starts running cold water. Returns to the machine, adds detergent, kicks the door closed, sets the cycle. Adds some detergent to the basin, turns off the water. Lifts the frying pan and finishes plating his own dinner, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jisung is sitting at the breakfast counter, chin resting on one palm, his smile very warm, or, at least, making Minho’s ears very warm. “You’re very domesticated.”

Minho scoffs, pushes a plate towards him, “Eat up before it gets cold.”

He pours them each a glass of grape soda, and they eat in silence, forks clinking against plates. Minho, leaning on the counter across from Jisung, can't help glancing at him every so often. He looks like a squirrel eating sunflower seeds. It’s really cute.

Cute. Where did the hot and sexy Jisung from only a few hours ago disappear to? When had he ever considered anyone or anything, other than his cat, as cute?

How many Jisungs is that, now?

“That was amazing,” Jisung says, pushing his plate away.

“It’s only an omelette,” Minho says, but he’s pleased.

“It was a brilliant omelette. I could eat that everyday. And the ham and cheese in it,” he kisses his fingers. “Perfect.”

“You want more?”

“No, thank you, I’m full,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket. The screen is spider webbed with cracks, but the screen is on and it looks, in part, functional. Minho can’t believe it’s already nearly three in the morning. 

“Do you need to call someone?” Minho asks, as he pushes his own plate to the side, “Let them know you're okay or…”

Jisung laughs heartlessly, “They wouldn’t notice if I went missing for a week, let alone one night,” he pushes his phone back into his pocket. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Minho watches him for a moment. He wants to ask a question. But he doesn’t ask questions… he doesn’t have interest in people outside of his very small, very private circle… and yet, “Why wouldn’t they notice?”

“I’m probably being unfair,” he shrugs with one shoulder, “my brothers would probably notice that I wasn’t about, but my mum,” he shakes his head, “I don’t think she’d miss me unless my absence was an inconvenience to her.”

“Same, with my old man,” Minho says absently. “As for my brothers, they’d probably be glad to see the back of me for a week.”

Jisung grins that wide, dorky, gummy-grin and the room brightens tenfold. “How many brothers do you have?”

Minho thinks about this. The honest answer is none, his father would say Minho is one of twelve. The real answer is, “Three. That I count.”

“Huh, same,” Jisung giggles. “Older?”

“No, I’m the eldest.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Jisung leans back on the bar stool, arms folded across his chest, the action causes the collar of the t-shirt to drop a little lower and Minho can see the hollow at the base of his throat. The suggestion of a collar bone.

“Explains what?”

“Why you are so domesticated.”

Minho chuckles, “Based on that assessment, I’m guessing you’re a middle child.”

“Fuck you.”

“Am I wrong?” he arches an eyebrow. 

“No. But still, fuck you.”

Grinning smugly, Minho stacks the plates and brings them to the sink. Sets them down and lifts the shirt from the cold water, “I think this might be ruin—” his sentence is cut off by a pair of arms encircling his waist and the warmth of lips pressing against the back of his neck. 

His breath hitches, because it feels… familiar. He wants to sink into it. Sigh against it. Savour it.

Why does this feel so good? Is it because Minho has been resisting for so long? How long has it been? An hour? Two? A fucking lifetime.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Jisung says, lips still hovering over his skin, arms still wrapped around his waist, the tips of his fingers stroking the fabric of his tank top. “Just tell me to stop.”

Are you really going to ask him to stop when you’ve waited so long?

Minho lets the shirt fall back into the basin. Twisting round in his arms, Minho pushes his fingers through Jisung’s damp curls. His hair is exactly how Minho had fantasised it would feel: soft and lush and thick. And his eyes, fuck. There’s a whole world in those large and beautiful brown eyes of his. 

He tips his head, meeting Jisung’s lips with his own, feather soft as to not aggravate Jisung’s cut lip, and Jisung is kissing him back, soft and long and slow and lazily. It’s like a walk in the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon, and polar opposite to how he’d imagined this would be all those nights he’d laid in his bed imagining it. A month of nights…

“Hmm,” Jisung smiles against his lips. “You’re restraining yourself.”

Unbidden, Minho barks out a laugh because it’s too fucking true. Jisung’s fully grinning now, that silly, dorky grin. Minho’s new favourite. 

“You’re hurt,” Minho let’s his thumb trace the outline of Jisung’s bottom lip.

“I meant what I said before,” Jisung’s breath ghosts Minho’s lips. “Anything,” he says and the word travels down and down and Jisung’s hands are chasing the word, seizing hold of Minho’s hips, pulling his pelvis to his. Grinning again when he can very obviously feel Minho’s desire, and Minho’s smiling back, because he can feel Jisung’s. “Anything.” Jisung says again and his lips are on Minho’s and it’s deep and uncontrolled, their lips sliding and scraping against the other and it’s messy and it’s different from Minho’s fantasies, because this is everything and so much more than his mind could conjure. Jisung pulls against Minho’s push until he is pinned against the breakfast bar, caged between Minho’s arms, and his hands are in Minho’s hair and on his back and his hips and seemingly everywhere and he’s kissing that magical spot below Minho’s ear. 

“I’ll… break you,” Minho hisses, gripping the counter as Jisung scrapes his teeth in the same spot. 

“I’m stronger than I look,” Minho can feel the smile against his neck. “I fought six guys at once.”

New turn-on: unlocked.

“Yeah you fucking did,” Minho says, grabbing a fistful of Jisung’s hair, pulling his head back, exposing his neck. He can feel Jisung's pulse hammering against his tongue and Jisung groans, stretching his head back further, allowing Minho to taste him and inhale that earthy scent of his. Minho’s hands slide down his ribs, to his waist, that forbidden, grabbable waist and it fits perfectly between his thumb and fingers. Minho pulls back to admire his hands gripping it, his thumbs and fingers caressing. He momentarily considers that it’s Jisung who will do the breaking. Because this, all this, is fucking killing him. 

“Take me to bed,” Jisung says and his voice is like velvet, smooth forwards and rough back and Minho slides his hands down over the curve of Jisung's arse to the back of his thighs, pulls him up into his arms. He’s not exactly light, but he’s far from heavy and when Jisung wraps his legs around his waist, grips his shoulders, it only makes it easier. They kiss as Minho carries him to the bedroom, lays him back on the bed, hands sliding over fabric, then under it and Jisung’s skin is smooth, and hard, and soft and warm and Jisung is arching up and into him, making pretty little whimpers—then his eyes fly open and he seizes hold of Minho’s wandering hands. “Wait!”

Minho stops immediately, “I’m sorry, are you— what’s wrong?”

“Where’s Soonie?”

“Soonie?” Minho repeats, the blood supply needed to comprehend what Jisung is saying is directed decisively elsewhere. “My cat?”

“Yes,” and Jisung’s cheeks are reddening. “I can’t — I can’t do this with Soonie in here.”

Minho can’t control the smile that leaps to his face. It’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. 

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Cute. Adorable. 

Chuckling, he rolls off the bed, “Soonie?”

A gravelly purr emanates from the wash basket, and Soonie blinks at him in a manner that says, ‘Who dares disturb my slumber.’

Minho pets him, scoops him up and carries him out to the living room. Sets him on a blanket on the couch, pats his head, “Sorry pal.”

The responding cat chirp sounds a lot like, ‘fuck you’, which is perfectly justifiable.

Still chuckling quietly to himself at the absurdity, Minho returns to the bedroom, closes the bedroom door, turns and hesitates. Jisung smiles warmly up at him from the centre of his bed. His cheeks are flushed, his lips red and swollen, his golden skin seeming to glow against the white of the sheets. He looks so small and so fucking beautiful. Minho crawls up onto the bed to lie beside him and Jisung rolls onto his side to face him and for a minute, Minho allows himself to just look. 

Look at how, his curls fall lazily and elegantly over his brow and into his eyes. How his brown eyes appear almost black and still emanate light. How his soft round cheeks blend into the sharp edge of his jawline. How his narrow top lip is all angles, whilst his bottom lip is a curvaceous invitation. Jisung’s face is all juxtapositions. None of it should work together, but it’s truly beautiful.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jisung whines, bringing his hand up to cover his face.

Minho smiles, gently pulls his hand away, “You said, ‘anything’.”

Something in Jisung’s eyes soften and his hand slots around the nape of Minho’s neck and he kisses him.

Minho allows himself to be kissed whatever way Jisung wants it, which just so happens to be how Minho wants it. It’s a sunset kiss. A twilight kiss. Deep and longing. Their hands move slowly, pressing and pulling. After seconds or a lifetime, but too short, Jisung pulls away, tugging at the hem of Minho’s tank top, pulling it over his head. Minho makes light work of Jisung’s own t-shirt, and Jisung has a fucking chest tattoo on the right side, and his pecs and abdominal muscles look like you could skip stones off them and… he’s bruised. There are noticeable red and blue marks, the size of fists down the left side of his chest and Minho’s breath catches. God help me if I ever see those men again…

“I’m okay,” Jisung says gently, taking Minho’s hand and holding his palm against his bruised ribs. Minho can feel the heat of his skin, the texture of his ribs moving beneath his hand. “Really, it doesn’t hurt all that much.”

Still holding his hand against him, Jisung kisses him into the pillows and Minho pulls him down with him. He traces the red and black tattoo with his fingers, then with his tongue, Jisung humming appreciation at his ear before biting gently on his earlobe. “More,” he says, as his hand slides beneath the waistband of Minho’s sweatpants and the elastic of his boxers, fingers digging into the flesh of Minho’s arse. Minho returns the action in kind, smiling against Jisung’s groaning mouth.

Now Jisung is sliding Minho’s joggers and boxers down, tossing them off to the side, then his sweats and the socks and they are both naked, their legs scissoring, hands and feet caressing. Minho lets his hands trace Jisung’s outlines, carving the shape of him into his mind, memorising how the curve of Jisung's waist fits under his palm. How his dark hair falls forward over his face. How his full bottom lip curls and his top lip dips. 

Jisung’s hand slides down over Minho’s abdominal muscles and lower—

“Fuck,” Minho hisses through his teeth, as Jisung’s fingers encircle him. Every muscle and tendon in his body tightens, his fingers pressing into Jisung’s waist. Jisung hums, his lips are at that spot beneath Minho’s ear, melting his insides. 

He reaches for Jisung, but Jisung pins his hand against the bed, their fingers interlacing. “Not yet,” Jisung’s voice has a dangerous edge. And again Minho’s mind reels: Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous Jisung. “I said I would make you beg.”

Yes. Yes you did. And…fuck… I might. Minho fights to stay here. He shuts his eyes, gripping Jisung’s hand and fisting at the sheets with the other.

“Look at me,” Jisung says and Minho obeys and it’s a big fucking mistake. Jisung is a pleasurable assault on his senses. His lip curled in a smirk. His dark eyes sparkling. His hand doing…fucking incredible things and if he doesn’t stop it now, he’s going to have to beg. With a roll of his hips, he flips Jisung onto his back, pinning Jisung’s legs down with his own, capturing Jisung’s wrists with one hand. Jisung’s eyes are round and wide at the sudden reversal, but he’s smiling, his pink tongue at the corner of his lips. Minho smiles darkly down at him, makes use of his advantage (and his ambidexterity), his free hand sliding down… Jisung arches off the bed, a red lip caught between white teeth. Slowly, Minho releases his wrists, kisses him into the mattress whilst Jisung’s fingers dig into his shoulders.

Slowly, Minho backs off from him, retreating towards the foot of the bed, lips and tongue tracing his jawline, his neck, his chest, his belly button and Jisung’s fingers are in his hair, watching Minho who is retreating further and lower, tracing kisses inside his thighs. And he looks up the length of Jisung, their eyes locking, tongue and lips teasing–

“Those fucking eyelashes,” Jisung swears throwing his head back when Minho takes him in. Jisung groans softly, chewing his lip as he watches Minho. His thighs trembling under Minho’s fingers whilst his own knot in Minho’s hair and the litany of curses that spill from Jisung are enough to consecrate the room. “Holy mother of–” Jisung’s fingers are pulling Minho’s hair, and he’s sitting up and bringing Minho’s lips back to his, in a crushing kiss that must be painful on his cut lip, “Irino, I need you.”

Irino. Something about the way Jisung contracts his name makes Minho momentarily giddy. I need you. Drives him wild. “Are you begging?”

“Stop being a fucking tease!”

Minho arches an eyebrow at him. Biting Jisung’s lip and dragging it through his teeth. And the sound that escapes Jisung’s mouth is particularly pleasurable.

“Irino, please,” Jisung says, pressing his lips against Minho’s. Kissing him deeply, hungrily, desperately.

Are you really going to prolong your own suffering? Blindly, Minho fumbles in the bedside drawer amongst his leather holster. He pulls back from Jisung to tear the foil open with his teeth. Jisung, huffing impatiently, snatches it from him, rolls the condom on him, and even that action makes Minho moan. 

Jisung lies back against the pillows, lifting his knees as Minho lines himself up and slowly pushes into him and he’s hissing through his teeth because Jisung is so fucking perfect and arching off the bed, groaning pleasurably and again he’s fighting to maintain himself. Resist a little longer. Give Jisung time to adjust. Inch by blissful inch.

Slowly, they move together, their bodies seemingly, instinctively knowing what the other wants, what the other needs, as though they had done this before in a past life, on another timeline, in an alternate universe. Soon, Jisung digs his fingers into Minho’s hips, encouraging him to move, pulling him deeper and he looks so fucking pretty beneath him, lips parted, his eyes burning darkly up at him, sweat beading around his temples, “You’re not–going to–break me,” Jisung pants, and for a fleeting moment, Minho believes him, believes that he’s unbreakable and his entire body rolls at the words and Jisung gasps, fingers knotting in Minho’s hair, a sound like a growl escapes his own lips when Jisung pushes against his thrust. “Oh! Uh-huh–yes, like that–just–like–that–”

Oh he can fucking take it. Minho stretches forward, kisses him with teeth, swallowing Jisung’s groans which are growing louder with every thrust. Minho kisses over his jawline, down his neck, to his collarbone and back up to his ear, “Let me hear you.”

“Irino.”

Fuck, just the sound of his name is undoing him. Driving him.

“Irino,” Jisung groans and he’s calling to some part deep inside Minho. Some part of his soul. Calling to another Minho in a past life, on a different timeline, in that alternate universe. “My Irino.”

My. “Ji—fuck—” Minho grinds out as Jisung wraps his legs around Minho’s thighs, pulling him closer, urging him deeper, moving him faster, his hands slipping over Minho’s back, fingers digging, breath quickening.

“Irino!”

“Ji— I’m going to—”

“Look at me,” Jisung cups Minho’s head in his hands, fingers digging into his hair, arching up, his mouth parting and eyes watering and he looks like fucking heaven and Minho is trembling and groaning back and seeing stars but they aren’t stars, it’s the whole fucking universe, past, different and fucking alternate in Jisung’s eyes before they coalesce and become a single point of blinding light.

Boneless, Minho collapses forward against Jisung's sticky chest. He listens to the sound of Jisung’s breath, his too quick heart beat.

His giggling.

“What’s funny?” Minho asks, utilising his remaining strength to push himself up and look down at Jisung.

“Nothing,” Jisung kisses him again and again.

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Minho thinks, giggling against Jisung's hair.

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

They shower together.

It’s not sexual, but very sensual. And it’s new. Minho has never done anything like this with anyone before. Has never wanted to until Jisung had made the suggestion. He takes his time lathering shower gel into Jisung’s skin. He’s being particularly gentle over his ribs, which are more purple than red now. Smiles when Jisung giggles, “Not there! I’m ticklish.”

Jisung gently massages shampoo into Minho’s hair in between kisses and giggles. It’s odd, just how much Minho is enjoying this. Enjoying the closeness. Enjoying Jisung.

When they step out of the bathroom, hair dripping, towels around their waists, Minho pulls the top sheet off the bed, drops it into the wash basket and Jisung crosses the room to the bedroom door, pulls it open, “Where’s the beautiful boy?”

‘That’s me,’ Soonie chirps as he trots to Jisung, arching against his legs, bell tinkling. ‘I’m here.’

What the fuck is wrong with my cat? 

Jisung scoops him up, carries him over to the bed. “I’m so sorry we kicked you out.” Jisung croons, “I know. We’re mean, aren’t we? Yes.”

“You’re mean,” Minho corrects, lying on the bed and scratching Soonie under the chin. Mimicking Jisung’s condescending tone, “You were all cosy before you got evicted.”

Jisung narrows his eyes down at Minho, “I’m certain that everything that just happened would have been traumatic for the poor boy.”

Minho chews his smile, “He still heard us, Ji.”

And there it is, that pleasant shade of pink spreading up Jisung’s neck and settling around his cheeks. 

Jisung kneels up onto the bed, lays down with Soonie between them. Soonie languishes in the attention he’s receiving from them both. Jisung’s fingers buried in the softness of his orange and white fur, his knuckles purpling and swollen. Minho traces them with his thumb, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I just kind of had to,” Jisung shrugs. “I’ve always been sort of scrappy. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that, to survive, you have to fight.”

If you want something. Fight for it. Fight for it and win. It’s a lesson his Father had beaten into him from an early age.

“I hope the girl is okay,” Jisung says. A small furrow forming on his brow.

Minho cups his head, leans forward, kisses it gently. “I’m sure she’s being well looked after.”

The furrow melts away.

“You can fight too,” Jisung says. “Boxing?”

“Hmm, and mixed martial arts.”

Jisung’s fingers trace the ragged line on his bicep, “You have a lot of scars,” he says. “Who hurt you?”

“That’s from a broken bottle,” he tells him. “I was trying to break up a fight.” He chooses to leave out the part where he’d started and finished it.

“And this?” Jisung caresses the pink scar beneath his left collar bone that his brother Felix gave him after a particularly rowdy night and an honest to goodness misunderstanding. 

“Broken pool cue.”

“And this?” Jisung’s knuckles brush the long thin scar below his diaphragm.

“I don’t actually know about that one. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.”

“Hasn’t your father told you?”

“He doesn’t know either. I, um… I’m adopted,” he surprises himself by saying this out loud. He’s not ashamed of it. It’s just something he chooses not to tell people. “So my medical history from before is a little vague.”

Something flickers over Jisung’s eyes, but it’s gone and he’s speaking before Minho gets the opportunity to try and understand the look. “Your brothers?”

“We’re all adopted, but I love them as if they are brothers,” he smirks, knowing that whilst this is true, his brothers would vehemently deny that Minho is capable of such affection. “Blood is thicker than water, after all.”

Jisung grins widely at him, “You are probably the first person I’ve heard use that in the correct way,” his eyes burn, and he leans forward, kisses Minho who kisses back and their hands are quickening, fingers digging, towels slipping and—

Meow. 

Jisung pulls away giggling. Minho is less than amused. 

“I’m sorry!” Jisung says, leaning back and petting Soonie, “Are you feeling left out?” he plants a kiss on the top of Soonie’s head. Soonie purrs happily. Little cat cock blocker.

Minho settles down against the pillows. Outside, the sun is rising and the morning twilight plays with Jisung’s soft features. Minho thinks he’s probably the most beautiful man in this, or any other world, past, present or alternate. 

Jisung glances at him, smiles, “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” it comes out like a sigh. Minho traces the black and red circle with a white star radiating from the centre. “Tell me about this.”

Jisung smiles, “My broken compass?”

And now Minho can see it, the points for north, east, south and west, but the letters at these points are different; S-T-A-Y. “Why’s it broken?”

“Have you seen Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“No,” Minho says.

“Well, shame on you. You should watch it. It’s a whole thing,” his smile is teasingly beautiful. “But my broken compass is a reminder. A reminder that I’m never really lost. That I’m not really astray. That I can always find myself, if I rely on what my heart is telling me.”

Whatever Minho had envisioned the answer to be, this was not it. He feels a bubble rise in his chest, and poking curiously at it, realises that it’s sadness. He feels sad that Jisung has ever felt astray. He cups Jisung's face, lets his thumb caress his cheek, “Stay with me a little longer?”

Smiling, Jisung cups Minho’s hand with his own, and lays down. “Okay.”

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

Minho wakes to sunlight blinding him. South facing windows are great and all, except at midday when you’ve had less than four hours sleep. He flinches back from it, rolls away, hand reaching across the bed finding it empty. Usually, finding that his previous nights fuck toy has scarpered fills him with relief. So he’s a little surprised and wary of the hollowness sitting in his chest at Jisung’s absence. Or is it the absence of Jisung? Whichever it is, he’s not particularly fond of the feeling.

Distantly, in the fog of his sleepy brain, he’s aware that Soonie isn’t glaring at him from the bedside table or neighbouring pillow, bopping his nose with an angry paw demanding breakfast, which is his usual morning alarm. He rolls onto his back and drops his forearm over his eyes, listens to the sound of the hum of the traffic and a television. No, not a television. He removes his arm, sits up on his elbows, stares at his open bedroom door. It’s definitely his television.

He rolls out of bed, pulling on last night's sweatpants and pads barefooted and bare chested into his living room.

Jisung is sitting cross legged on the couch, wearing his laundered tank top and jeans and hideous socks and eating a triangle of jammy toast. Soonie is curled into a ball on his lap and they are both staring at the television. On the screen, a pretty woman is talking to a prettier man and after only thirty seconds of listening to them, horror settles into his stomach, it’s one of those fucking dating shows. “You’ve got to be kidding me? You watch this shit?”

“Shush,” Jisung says, waving his toast at him in a gesture to be quiet. Which is fucking cheeky since he’s sitting in Minho’s home. Or fucking cute. By the way Jisung nibbles on his toast, his eyes large and fixed on the screen, Minho leans towards cute, but he’s adding cheeky to his list. “I’ve been waiting for three weeks for him to finally confess to her.”

“Confess what?” Minho folds his arms across his chest, “That it’s a terrible idea to talk about their love life on national television?”

“Shush!” Jisung hisses.

Feeling scolded and chuckling quietly to himself, Minho ruffles Jisung’s hair as he pads over to the kitchen, or what had been his kitchen. The carnage remaining from Jisung making toast is a wonder to behold. It’s amazing there’s any jam on his toast, since a large quantity of it seems to be everywhere else. He’d clearly tried to wash the previous night’s dishes, but didn’t know where to put anything so had them teetering dangerously on the sink. But there’s coffee brewing in the pot, so that’s something. He steps on something hard, curses as he hops on one foot, inspects the other to find a cat biscuit there. Glances down at Soonie’s overflowing bowl.

“YES!” Jisung says. “Tell her! Tell her!”

Meoooow, Soonie agrees.

‘The thing is…’ the handsome man on screen is saying. ‘I never stopped loving you.’

Minho rolls his eyes, pours himself a mug of coffee.

“YES!” Jisung bounces on the couch, hands in the air. Soonie leaps away from him and scampers into the bedroom as Jisung claps his hands. “Finally!”

Music is playing now, the dramatic-romantic type as the camera focuses on the pretty woman’s disbelieving face and then the credits roll. Jisung vaults over the back of the couch, his smile wide and fucking adorable. He does a little happy skip, his fists like paws at his side. “He finally told her.”

“I gathered,” Minho can’t help smiling at him around his coffee mug. 

Jisung plants a kiss on his cheek, “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon,” Minho replies, setting his mug down so he can wrap his arms around Jisung’s waist. Honestly, his arms are made for this. “Hmm.”

Jisung grins at him, but pulls away and covers his mouth when Minho leans forward for a kiss. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

“Neither have I,” Minho says, pulling Jisung closer, breathing on him.

“Oh my lord,” Jisung whines, nose wrinkling as he tries to wriggle free.

Minho plants a quick chaste kiss against Jisung’s lips and at once he stops wriggling, begins melting in Minho’s arms, his hands encircling Minho’s neck, pulling him down, kissing him deeply, and he tastes like strawberries, moaning against Minho’s lips. After seconds that might have been hours, Jisung pulls away. His cheeks are that pretty shade of pink, “Well, that was disgusting.”

“Uh-huh,” Minho says, kissing him once more before letting him go.

Jisung leans back against the breakfast bar, “I fed Soonie.”

“I see that.”

“I wasn’t sure how much to give him.”

“I see that too,” Minho tickles Jisung under his chin. “Good effort.”

Giggling, Jisung rabbit punches his shoulder. Hugs himself. “I don’t suppose you have a jumper or something I could borrow? My shirt’s outside, but it’s still damp.”

“Of course, are you cold?”

“No, not cold, I just, I er, don’t really like my arms out, on show.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at him, “You don’t like your arms?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable.”

Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Cheeky. Shy. 

Minho kisses the top of his head, “For the record, you have very sexy arms,” he says, stepping round Jisung and heading to his room. At the very top of his wardrobe he finds an old, hooded jumper in dark grey, with two white wings on the back. “Is this okay? It’ll be massive on you.”

“It’s cute, thanks,” Jisung says, pulling it over his head, the sleeves hanging low over his hands. And Minho sees the way Jisung’s shoulders relax under the fabric. 

“Better?”

“Much,” Jisung smiles at him.

There is the sound of a phone vibrating. Minho automatically glances at his bedside table where his phone is on charge, but it’s still and silent. 

Jisung pulls his own from the front pocket of his jeans, his face hardens as he scowls at the broken screen, and ends the call. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—for fuck’s sake,” he ends the second call. “I have to go.”

“Do you need a lift? I could drive—”

“No. No, that’s not necessary.”

His phone rings for a third time and Minho’s seeing the tightness in his shoulders return. “Do you need to get that? I can leave—”

“No. They can wait,” Jisung steps forward, cups Minho’s head and pulls him down for a kiss and the kiss is going places when his fucking phone starts ringing again. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Jisung ends the call again. “I had a wonderful time last night.” He looks Minho in the eye, pushing strands of hair away from Minho’s forehead. “A really wonderful time.”

“Me too,” Minho says, allowing his hands to rub circles over Jisung's back. Feels his muscles tense when his phone rings again.

“I really have to go,” he steps back, pets Soonie on the head and stoops down to kiss the spot between his ears. “Be good, beautiful boy.”

Soonie chirps, ‘I will’.

Why are you lying? Minho thinks.

“Ji?” Minho follows him out of the bedroom, Jisung is already at the main door, pulling on his boots, not bothering to tie his laces, just shoving the loose ends inside them. Groaning loudly when his phone starts ringing again. “Ji?”

Jisung shakes his head, unlatches the door, but Minho slaps his palm against it, slamming it shut. 

“Ji, look at me.” 

Jisung takes a shaky breath, looks. His eyes are damp. Any joy he’d had only five minutes ago has been expunged by the person trying to call him. Minho feels a visceral loathing of the person on the other end of those calls. He thumbs a tear from Jisung's cheek, “Who’s trying to call you?”

“It’s no-one,” Jisung lies terribly, which isn’t necessarily a bad trait.

“Your boyfriend?” It makes sense, in the moment, though the word burns in his chest. “Girlfriend?” he hedges, remembering the red and blue girls from the club.

“No,” Jisung smiles tiredly at him, “Nothing like that, it’s,” he sighs, “it’s my brother.”

“Oh, okay,” Minho hears the sound of relief in his own voice. “Are you okay?”

His nose wrinkles as he shakes his head. 

Minho’s unsure who kisses who first but they are kissing, Jisung pinned against the door, his leg around the back of Minho’s thigh, pulling him in, and closer, his hands flattening over Minho’s chest, up and over his shoulders, into his hair and his fucking phone starts ringing again.

“Tell him to fuck off,” Minho growls against Jisungs mouth.

Jisung giggles, dropping his foot back to the floor and gently detaching Minho’s hands from his waist. “I have to go,” he says as he wrenches the door open. Hesitates on the threshold. “Can I call you?”

“You fucking better,” Minho says and Jisung kisses his cheek quickly before he flees out of the door, jogs towards the elevator, takes the stairs. 

Minho closes the door, walks to his windows, heaves one open and steps out onto the narrow balcony. The sun is heating his skin, but his feet are cold on the concrete. He watches and he waits, and finally he sees Jisung, hood over his head, phone pressed to his ear, jogging lightly across the street, flagging down a taxi and scrambling into the back of it. Minho watches as the taxi rolls down the road and disappears around a corner. 

Palming the back of his neck, Minho turns to head back inside when he spots Jisung’s shirt, draped over the back of a chair. He lifts it, carries it inside. 

Purr? Soonie is pacing in front of the door, sniffing the spot where Jisung’s boots had been.

“He’s away,” Minho tells him. “Don’t look at me in that tone.”

Soonie sits down and continues to scowl at Minho as if he was the one who made him leave.

Minho flops onto the couch, idly feeling the smooth silk of Jisung’s shirt between his fingers. He glances up at the television showing icons of several shows of happy, smiling, pretty heterosexuals and the words: Because you watched Exchange: you might also like…

“No I fucking wouldn’t,” Minho says reaching for the remote and turning the television off. 

Jisung: Sexy. Fighter. Attractive. Adorable. Dangerous. Great in bed. Cheeky. Shy. Algorithm wrecker.

“Fuck,” Minho sighs dropping his head back. He’d slept with a lot of people in his time… could remember (maybe) some of their names. Could just about recall what they looked like… but here he was able to recite his list of Jisung’s without any issue.

Meow? Soonie says for no reason.

Another Jisung: Cat heart stealer.

“Fuck.”

♢ ♧ If you made it this far, thank you for your support! ♤ ♡ please consider leaving a comment, like or reblog ♤ ♡ ©2024Intrikatie ♢ Ao3 ♧ Quotev ♤ Wattpad ♡

TASTE M.List & Sypnosis

Chapter 1 - Parley

Chapter 2 - The DLC

Chapter 4 - The Wolf & His Pack

[daffodilsonaprettystring]

An Incomplete List: Things I need to be in the RWRB movie

(Including things we already know will be in it because god I’m so excited)

Basically this will just be me listing all my favorite parts of the book so I apologize in advance for how long this will be I’m brainrotting HARD rn)

1. The callback between Henry asking June (maybe Nora tho now) to waltz and then later telling Alex he hates waltzing at the V&A idk why but this is important to me

2. PLEASE a flashback of baby Alex seeing the picture of baby Henry in the J14 magazine I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THAT

3. Henry’s (and Alex’s) insomnia (because I am also an insomniac and it’s an important part of their characters I feel)

4. ALEX’S GLASSES PLEEEEEASE

5. Star Wars including the Leia and Han references/mural and Henry’s favorite movie being Return of the Jedi because THATS MINE TOO❤️❤️ and also “bit short for a stormtrooper”

6. CORNBREAD AND STUFFING CORNBREAD KNOWS MY SINS HENRY buy a summer home in Majorca with the turkey Mr Wobbles and David picture from Henry and their cute little “we’ve obviously got crushes but we’re ignoring it” phone goodbye

7. EVERYTHING ABOUT NEW YEARS BUT ESPECIALLY ALEX TRYING TO GET HENRY TO DANCE AND HENRY JUST GAY PANICKING

8. Nora’s extrapolated data about Alex’s obvious crush lmao

9. RED ROOOOOOOOOM

10. “Fucking eyelashes” and also “good to know. I am very, very gay.”

11. The stupid titles they use in their emails like His Royal Horniness and Alex First Son of Off-Brand England

12. BABY and LOVE and SWEETHEART I normally hate pet names (minus love I adore that one always) but I am a SUCKER for Firstprince pet names specifically

13. I’d love to see a flashback to young Henry coming out to Bea even for just a second

14. I NEEDNEEDNEED a shot like this in the movie

(Art by vkellyeart) but yes give me a shot like this where they’re on opposite ends of the world “two parentheses enclosing 3700 miles”

15. “Say good morning to your strumpet, Henry.”

16. So I know we won’t get the Hoe Dameron and Prince Buttercup kimonos anymore (sadness) but LET NICHOLAS GALITZINE BELT HIS HEART OUT TO QUEEN I BEG

17. Since we don’t get Cash wearing one SLAP A BRIGHT PINK FEATHER BOA ON AMY PLZ

18. Bea’s lime green drop-waist Wimbledon dress with gold honeybee Gucci sunglasses fight me Ellie Bamber would rock that look

19. So I know we know they don’t dance to Your Song in the V&A but I hope Henry still plays it on the piano or at least it plays somewhere in the movie cuz i love that song also JUST HENRY PLAYING PIANO IN GENERAL PLZ AND LET ALEX LOOK AT HIM WITH SEVERE HEART EYES and then Henry falling asleep on Alex and Alex just laying awake like Well Shit

20. “Most things are awful most of the time, but you’re good.”

21. Alex’s vocabulary apparently only being expletives when Zahra busts in on him and Henry lmao and “yes we can unpack the ironic symbolism later GO” and also “I thought you were getting into international relations or something” “I mean technically—“ “if you finish that sentence I’m gonna spend tonight in jail” 😂😂

22. THE POWERPOINTS HAHAHAH and “You need to figure out if you feel forever about him”

23. “Should I tell you that when we’re apart, you body comes back to me in dreams?” Speech and also the story about the prince with his heart outside his body that met the most dashingly gorgeous peasant boy who said absolutley ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years

24. “Sometimes you just jump and hope it’s not a cliff” and “But the thing is, jumping off cliffs is kinda my thing. That’s the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

25. Dear Thisbe, I wish there weren’t a wall. Love, Pyramus

26. Obtuse fucking asshole and “I fucking love you, okay?” And “when have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?” And “I want you— then fucking have me— but I don’t want this” and ok basically you get it their whole goddamn rain-drenched love confession scene

27. The morning after, when Henry says that all the royal shit of “fine” isn’t good enough for him and tells Alex he wants him to help him try to be happy and the chance of a life? That’s one of my favorite scenes if not my absolute favorite and I don’t even know what I need out of it but I know I need it to be PERFECT, including Henry sayings he’s been in love with Alex since they met❤️❤️

28. Prince Consort Road picture plzzzz and everything that happens in the V&A but ESPECIALLY them dancing and “taking a picture of a national gay landmark and a statue”

29. “I want you to know, I’m sure. A thousand percent.” And “I completely fucking love you”

30. AN INCOMPLETE LIST. IF WE DONT GET ALEX NARRATING THE INCOMPLETE LIST WITH A HENRY MONTAGE IN THE BACKGROUND, WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE MOVIE????

31. “You and me and history, remember? Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you.”

32. I want Ellen’s reaction to Alex being outed, and Zahra’s as well, with both of them being so supportive. But especially “do you feel forever about him?” “Yeah, I do.”

33. “I won’t lie. Not about this. Not about you.”

34. The crowd outside the palace and the crowds around the world supporting Henry and Alex oh my god i just know imma cry there

35. “You are the absolute worst idea I’ve ever had” Alex’s speech “America: he is my choice.”

36. The suitor pictures

37. Henry’s yellow rose of Texas tie

38. Alex taking Henry to his childhood home is a very small wish but I’d still love to see that

39. Finally, I REALLY hope the movie gives us some kind of epilouge like I don’t even care what kind I just want a future thing where we see them happy in the future at a wedding or literally just sitting together I don’t even care I just want one❤️❤️

I am SO sorry this turned out a lot longer than I expected but goddamn I love this book and I’m so excited for the movie my brain needed something to do lmao

[justalittleobsessed]

The experiment boys have sweaters! Would you like some?

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

"Sweaters?" Mikey peeked at the rack, stopping in front of the younger turtles. "Sure, I'll take some!" He smiled, mouth curling up towards his "Gucci" sunglasses.

The kids seemed nice. Cute. Mikey was meeting so many kids these past few days and he was soaking it up. The fact that these little ones were not only color-coded but had their first initial on them? Magnifique.

He looks at the offered sweaters and is immediately drawn to his signature color. "First off, one dollar is a steal for these amazing sweaters. Second, I'll take an orange one." He points to the brightly colored sweater sitting towards the end of the rack, before digging around in his belt for some money. "I'm into fashion you see. Very into it. A fashionista if you will. An elite fashion designer if we're being honest. I wear only the most elite clothing offered. But I must admit that something comfy, cozy, and homemade can never be passed up. Those are the best clothes of all."

He hands over a dollar to the kids, grabbing his sweater in return. Man, this is soft. "Thanks kiddos! Stay strong, keep working, and soon you'll rise to the top of the fashion world too!"

With his new sweater in tow, he walks away in search of those in fashion crisis. But first... he snuggles up to his sweater, sighing.

Yeah, kids are the best.