#or freckles that aren't on the bridge of their nose OR on their cheeks

[illeaadante]

Character Creators need to Git Gud

I’m talking about the programs here.

Look, I looooooooooooove, love, love dress-up games and character creators. Love them. Favorite part of a lot of games. But dear lord.

I’m not even talking about the lack of skin tone diversity! (although that is also a problem) because that can be solved with, like, 3 color sliders. (base, highlights, and shadows at the minimum)

I’m talking about how I cannot, for love or money, give my characters their actual nose.

For things like picrews, vtuber makers, and other stylized character creators you generally have 2 options: small pointed anime nose, or the ugliest goddamn shape you have ever seen that, despite what the creator may tell you, has never actually been on a human face before. Sometimes, you don’t even get the ugly option and it’s all just, like, a few micrometers of width shift or pulling the tip of the nose up or down slightly.

I would be perfectly alright with the pointed anime nose and even the ugly not-a-nose shapes being present as long as I could also get some actual nose shapes. A lot of my characters have large, flat noses, or long, high bridged noses, or noses with a bump in the middle! But whenever I see options like those, they tend to look like caricature! and I’m sure we all know why... but this is especially egregious and indefensible in creators that have sliders for proportions. I actually like my vtuber software that I downloaded, but it is a bit frustrating to know that I’ll have to port the model into a different software to actually get the correct proportions for things you can already edit in the original because it doesn’t go far enough. I should be able to make my character’s nose look like a lightbulb or an ax or a hole, especially considering just how many goddamn sliders there are for noses. No, seriously, vroid (the program I use) has, like, at least 8 sliders for noses that barely do anything.

I also can’t give most of my characters their canon weight/build. You want a fat woman? that’s a no. You want a broad shouldered, muscular woman? absolutely not. You want someone with a square jaw or chin? lol. lmao, even. You can make them as tall as you want, you can give them big boobs and wide hips, but you can’t actually give them an ass or muscle definition.

And I know, I know I’m complaining about freeware right now, but I shouldn’t have to pay to model something that looks like me or like the characters I build when the program is already there!

[yelenasfloppyhand]

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Summary: Spencer is feeling insecure about his glasses, good thing you are there to help him see his beauty.

Warnings: none?

You glance up, concerned, as you see your boyfriend squinting at the television in front of him. His face looks scrunched up uncomfortably as he tries to read the subtitles that he insists on having on every time he forces you to watch a documentary with him, mainly because he talks over the documentary so often that it would be practically impossible to follow without them. This is a bit unusual, which makes you wonder: what is bothering him? "Why're you squinting?"

He breaks his gaze from the screen and looks at you with a puzzled expression, the kind of look that a child would give a parent after receiving a scolding for misbehaving. "Umm... could you repeat that I didn't hear you?" He asks sheepishly.

That was the moment it clicked. Whenever Spencer wasn't wearing his glasses or contacts, he often exclaimed that he couldn't hear without his glasses on. Most people didn't understand, considering glasses aided sight - not hearing. However, to you it made perfect sense. Spencer often relied on lipreading to prevent any miscommunication. He feared it would lead to an accidental offence. "You aren't wearing your glasses" it came off as more of a soft accusation than an observation.

A delicate pout graces his plump lips as he glances bashfully at you before sighing. "They make me look ugly..." His tone is dejectful as he breaks eyecontact to stare at the soft tartan blanket on his lap.

You feel your eyes widen as a frown pulls at your lips, there are many adjectives you could use to describe Spencer: awkward, intelligent, sweet, loving, beautiful, thoughtful... never in a million years would the word ugly even cross your mind. He was truly gorgeous, his eyes were a light brown with flecks of gold near his pupils, his nose was button like with a small bump on the bridge, his lips were plump and pink, he had alluring crinkles at the corners of his eyes each time he smiled (which was frequently around you), his hair oh his silky hair that he often begged you to play with in order to help him fall asleep, it was soft and a light shade of brown that shined bronze in the sunlight. You could use a multitude of synonyms to describe how beautiful he is but never would you describe him as ugly.

"Spencer Walter Reid, I'm appalled! How dare you call yourself ugly?" Your anger simmers as you stare at him with a pointed look, utterly disgusted with his self-deprecation. "You're not ugly," you add, softening slightly, "And I think your glasses make you even hotter." His cheeks flush with color and he looks away, clearly embarrassed.

"If you'd let me, I'd kiss each and every part of your beautiful body, I love the small freckle on your forehead, and your toothy grin, I love the way your glasses sit on you're gorgeous nose" you continue, you've been with him since you were both in your 20s and despite him now being 30 he still looked just as beautiful as ever.

"My confidence always takes a hit with my glasses on. The frames make me feel like an even bigger nerd than usual." His gorgeous gold eyes usually wore contact lenses, a solution to his glasses related insecurity. But recently, he developed a slight allergy to the contact lens solution he uses meaning he was now forced to wear his glasses. The whole situation leaves him feeling like more of a wounded puppy.

You could cry at his self deprication. You wished you could see him the way you see him. You immediately have a great idea. You stand from your spot next to him on the couch before rushing away, leaving him confused and slightly curious.

You return wearing his glasses, admittedly you can't see much considering how strong his prescription is, it distorts your vision an uncomfortable amount. But you watch as his expression changed to utter disorientation as he trys to understand what you're doing. "Do you think I look ugly?"

You watch as he is taken aback by your question, he cannot fathom ever finding you anything other than breathtaking. His eyebrows furrow as he answers quickly. "No, you're absolutely breathtaking as always." You can't help the grin that pulls at your lips at his compliment.

"So you don't think these glasses make me ugly, don't they change how I look? Do they make me unappealing to gaze at?" You ask confidently, praying to whoever is listening that you can help him see himself in a more positive light.

"How can I ever see you as anything other than beautiful?" He asks with confusion. He frowns before continuing. "Nothing could ever change how I view you, you're the sun in my solar system." You can feel yourself metaphorically melt at his words, he was always sweet with his complments, its what made you fall for him.

"You've just proved my point pretty boy." You smile before walking over to him and placing his glasses on his face, you can see the slight relief in his eyes when his vision focuses. "Hey." You grin and wave slightly at him. "There's my love. I promise you that just because you wear glasses doesn't mean you're ugly, you aren't ugly and you know why?" You watch with amusement and adoration as his eye brows furrow in confusion as he waits for you to answer your own question. "Because despite your gorgeous face, it's your heart I feel for, and as long as you're heart stays just as sweet and lovable as always I will always find you beautiful."

You realise how clichet and corny it sounds the second the words leave your mouth but you can't help but find the truth in them. He is gorgeous and not even his glasses could change his beauty. After all his nickname was 'pretty boy' for a reason.

Note: I'm so sorry if this was badly written it's like midnight and I'm sleepy, this was inspired when I remembered that mgg wore glasses as Spencer in season 2 because he developed an allergy to his contact lens solution (thank god that happened if not we would've never been blessed with glasses reid). Also you can request stories using the request box in my bio :)

[lychello]

armed detective agency | appearance. hcs

dazai, kunikida, ranpo, kenji, atsushi missing quite a few, they'll be in the next part

wc : approximately 800

a/n : i'll get to whoever requested a fic soon enough but if you are reading this i'd prefer if you actually specified who you want the pairing to be of instead of giving me the general idea. thanks

this also mentions a few general headcanons, rather than ones focused on appearance

some have more than others because i have favourities

content warnings : self mutilation, scars and past suicide attempts

Osamu Dazai

dazai has moles all across his body—especially the inner skin between his fingers. he has a few moles along his neck and collarbone, and several down his stomach, but most are hidden due to his bandages.

on the off chance he does have his bandages off, his arms are covered in short scars, especially his left. although most are healed, he likes to keep them hidden in case of them being seen as a vulnerability point.

dazai's skin is relatively tan due to longer missions outside, despite never wanting to go on them. his skin is naturally pale but it easily tans, yet is never really sunburned, and you can see the difference when he replaces his bandages because of the thick tan line from his neck down.

his clothing is usually never ironed, if it is, he's bribed someone else into doing it for him. his entire wardrobe is full of crinkled shirts and jeans no matter how much need there is for fancy wear.

dazai doesn't grow that much body hair. sometimes he'll grow stubble or the off leg hair, but he's never found himself needing to actually shave.

he has noose scars around his throat from previous suicide attempts, however he also uses bandages to cover them when he needs to.

his teeth are straight because he had braces when he was in the mafia due to them growing unevenly, but they aren't perfectly white like veneers, they have a yellow tint on them.

contrary to popular belief, he's only around 5'9 to 5'10.

dazai has heavy dark circles under his eyes due to a lack of sleep.

Doppo Kunikida

kunikida is well organized and kept to his notebook, line for line. in contrast to osamu, he irons his clothing, especially his shirts, far more often.

he has well calloused hands due to working (and guitar lessons from when he was younger) and often his fingertips get caught on his notebook paper when he's turning pages.

kunikida has stray gray hairs along his hairline that he plucks out because teaching kids had got to be that stressful; dazai usually made fun of him for it before he grew a few himself, but just ended up mocking him with how he could pull it off better

he always walks into work with lines of pen ink all over himself, from either rushing writing or even just exploded pens.

he has a mole just under the right side of his lip.

kunikida's lips chap quite easily and he has to carry around lipbalm because dazai told him that licking them too much would erase the whole top layer.

he has a visible nose bump.

Ranpo Edogawa

due to his sweet tooth, ranpo has a minimum of three cavities. of course, he always saw them coming, but he never prepares dental appointments unless they actually start to annoy or pain him.

he's rather short, as seen compared to the other members of the agency, and sometimes uses height extenders hidden in his shoes with the excuse they're for something medical.

ranpo has a few acne scars around his cheeks from when he was a kid because of his diet and need to always get rid of them.

his hair is really soft, the front more so than the back because he never washes it out properly.

he's actually on the lower scale of vision impairment, and it's often why he doesn't open his eyes without his glasses.

Kenji Miyazawa

kenji is COVERED in freckles. from head to toe, there are freckles throughout his body: across the bridge of his nose, his neck, his arms, you name it.

he has unnecessarily long eyelashes.

kenji bites his fingernails, so the top parts of his nails are completely disintergrated but it took a while because of how strong they actually are. i like to think that his bones, nails, et cetera are all relatively strong because of his ability.

he blushes very easily.

sometimes kenji gets random sticks of straw stuck in his hair because of his hat and he never notices them because of their matching colour until after work or unless someone points them out to him.

Atsushi Nakajima

atsushi has cat scratches all over his body, mostly from partial transforming when he's asleep. yosano is usually always pouncing on him because of it—no pun intended.

a lot of his clothes are covered in white cat hair so he always walks into the office covered in it when he doesn't get the chance to wash it or go to the laundromat. (and when he does, he's always questioned about what breed of cat he owns)

atsushi's eyebrows are kind of overgrown because of his mass amount of hair and he was never really taught to shave when in the orphanage for obvious reasons. his hair also grows VERY quickly.

he has a small amount of visible freckles over the bridge of his nose.

i will add more the more i actually think about it i'd say

[possibilistfanfiction]

Chef Au! A date night with fast food (chosen by Ava) and cheap wine (chosen by Bea)

it's not that beatrice's little chef outfits aren't simultaneously endearing and also hot, but when you open your front door and see her in sunglasses and a comfortable crewneck sweater, light, loose pants cuffed casually — although you're sure she was exacting about those too — and sneakers, you realize that you've kind of been missing out. or, really, maybe, she's a fuller person that you could've ever really imagined, only seeing her at her restaurant and a few vineyards nearby you'd tasted at together.

she smiles, a little hesitant, and hands you a simple, beautiful bouquet of lavender wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine. 'from my garden.'

'that's so gay,' you say, before you can stop yourself — but then she laughs and scratches at the back of her neck and you lean forward to kiss her cheek. 'i love them,' you amend. 'thank you.

she nods. 'of course.'

'let me put these in some water and then we can head out.'

'you can dry it, if you want.' she clears her throat, nervous and fidgeting with her watch. 'it's good for simple syrups and reductions. or baths.'

'that sounds dope. i love baths.' you wink and know she's blushing as you put the bouquet on your entry table — artfully cluttered — and then lock the door and turn back to her. 'ready?'

'yes,' she says, unlocking a practical and perfectly spotless electric small bmw suv, and then opening your door for you.

'why thank you, sir knight.'

she rolls her eyes and closes the door, then walks around to her side. 'where to, your royal highness?'

you grin, take her hand in yours while she starts the car. 'arby's.'

'fair enough.'

'i was going to pick panda express, but that seemed... weird?'

she laughs, which delights you. you don't think you've ever heard her laugh like that before. 'i love their orange chicken, honestly. but that's a god tier secret, okay?'

you mime zipping your lips and throwing away the key, which keeps a smile on her face. while she's driving, you get to take in the whole of her, greedily: her dark brows and the gentle sharp of her jaw, the soft buzz of her hair, the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of her sweater, the freckles across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. and her hands: sure and precise, even just on the steering wheel. she's beautiful, and you're a little overcome. you count your blessings that you wore your favorite bralette and overshirt, wide-leg jeans that make your butt look incredible. your eyeliner is perfect and when you're at a red light, she turns and smiles at you like there's no one else in the world.

it knocks the breath out of you a bit, and you cannot start crying over how pretty a girl is within seven minutes of a first date; you thank your lucky stars when she fiddles with her phone and then some music starts to play.

'shit,' she says, scrolling desperately.

'carly rae?'

'i didn't mean to play that. i don't even know why it's in my liked songs.'

'here,' you say, and put your hand out for the phone because the light is about to turn green. you laugh when you see every single carly rae jepson album fully saved in her liked songs, and you take in the delicious pink of her cheeks when you look over at her with a laugh. 'well, emotion: side b is probably the best album of all time, so no judgement here.'

she bites her bottom lip.

'what were you trying to play, though? what did you think would, like, seduce me?'

'who says i'm was trying to seduce you?'

'well, the gay little flowers, for one. and the fact that you agreed to this silly plan in the first place.'

she waits until the next red light to lean over the console and kiss you — short, and gentle, and very sweet — and you revel in the feeling.

she backs away and turns her attention back to the road in front of you as you start to move again. 'is it working?' she asks.

you laugh.

/

you settle into her trunk after she parks on the overlook; she's put comfortable blankets and pillows in it so you can eat and watch the sunset, and it's tender and thoughtful and she puts a little fisherman's beanie on that softens her, even more, and it's all driving you a little bit crazy.

'well,' you say, after you both settle in with your chicken fingers, curly fries, and ranch — your order, which she'd promised she would eat — 'please break out the perfect wine to pair with the best dinner of all time.'

she nods very seriously, going along with your antics; beatrice is ultimately extremely serious in the kitchen, even if her food is playful: she hasn't gotten to where she is — one of the youngest chefs to be nominated for a james beard, among a billion other accomplishments she refuses to mention and you had only found out about through a recent write-up about the soft opening of her restaurant — without incredible determination and focus.

she's more playful than you had imagined, full of laughter and willing to be silly; willing to indulge the goofy idea you'd had for this date. she reaches around behind her and pulls out a small cooler filled with ice, then presents the wine with a flourish: 'only the very finest three dollar trader joe's chardonnay. it pairs wonderfully with chicken.'

her little posh accent and her genuine smile make the whole routine even better. 'that is... incredible.'

'you know,' she says, 'i've never failed an assignment.'

'now that i believe.'

she fishes out two red solo cups — which makes you laugh even harder — and unscrews the top of the wine before pouring it carefully. 'do you want to give your review?'

you go through the motions of how you would normally taste a wine, all a little exaggerated. you're one of the most sought-after sommeliers in the world: you can make or break vineyards and their yearly releases; you've been a part of a handful of opening restaurants that have won every award in the book. and, even with all of that, 'this might be one of my favorite bottles of wine i've ever had.'

bea scoffs. 'this wine is absolutely horrendous.' she pulls apart a chicken tender and dunks it in ranch, though, eats it without any complaint.

'sure,' you steal one of her fries even though you have a whole pile of your own. 'but the company elevates the entire thing.'

she turns toward you, the sunset fading orange behind her, turning her eyes gold. 'you make everything better.'

it makes you a little breathless. 'plus, you have to admit, these chicken fingers slap.'

it gets her to laugh, just like you'd wanted. just like you think you could spend your entire life wanting. 'maybe we'll put this pairing on my menu, then.'

'lilith would love that.'

'you know, it could be worth it, just to see her face.'

you scoot closer to her, talk about how her partnership with a local farm is going, how she's sourcing her cod from a fisherman nearby; you talk about your favorite vineyard, a tiny one tucked into the oregon coast — and those things are safe. those things are more of what you already know: she cares deeply about the earth and how her food fits into it; you want to share a stormy grey day and perfect pinot noir at a firepit with her.

and you eat your greasy fries and drink wine that is surely going to give you a headache in the morning. you talk about how she felt finally herself when she finished cooking school and took a job on the line, young and eager and fabulously talented, at a kitchen where she had support, where no one yelled at her, where she had a mentor that cared. you talk about the wine grapes you remember your grandfather growing in your small back yard, how you would eat them when you were small and describe the taste while you sat on your mom's lap. she teaches you her favorite word in chinese and you teach her your favorite word in portugese.

the sun sinks below the river, and you love her.

'do you — ' she bites her bottom lip — 'do you want to come back to my place? for dessert?'

'depends,' you say, and watch her face fall for a split second; you kiss her jaw to rectify that, 'what's on the menu?'

she huffs a laugh. 'i bought nestle chocolate chip cookies, for the occasion. they're in my freezer.'

'oh, fuck yes,' you say. 'i'm so in.'

'and, my company.'

'well, yeah, sure.' you roll your eyes playfully and pull her in for a kiss: cheap wine and grease and the softness of her skin under your fingertips. 'and that too.'

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Cry For Me [24]

TW: SMUTTTTTTT 

------

"Then come here."

He didn't have to tell me. Not even once. 

I move my feet, quickly walking over to him. Sal watches me with those pretty, nearly translucent blue eyes and gently grabs my wrist once I make it to him. He yanks me into his room, my pursuit stopping when my chest slams into his.

His tattooed fingers squeeze my wrist a bit as he shuts his door behind us. My body reacts almost immediately, goosebumps forming along my skin.

For a moment, just a moment, Sal simply stands with my body pressed to his. Doesn't do anything else, doesn't move-- like he's contemplating.

I already know what he's contemplating, doesn't even take a full second for it to click in my head. It's about the prosthetic.

I breathe in shakily, gazing into the eyeholes of his mask that show me so little of him. "If you're uncomfortable," I whisper, "You can keep it on."

He takes a big, stuttering breath that I feel through my own chest. I can't tell if I should be flattered for nearly making him choke or if I should be nervous about being so upfront.

But then he releases my wrist, using the same skeleton-tatted hand to grab the chin of his prosthetic and lift it over his face. The action rustles up his hair to the point that he reaches back and pulls out the pony tail that had held up his hair for the day. And when he looks at me again, brandishing his handsomely marred face like my words gave him the little bit of confidence he needed to bare himself to me, I fear I may fall apart.

Big doe eyes, long lashes. Furrowed brows to accentuate the little bit of clear apprehension he still feels. Parted lips to show off the tips of his sharp canines that left bruises on my skin that haven't yet faded-- teeth that'll no doubt leave more bruises by the time we're finished. His would-be straight bridged nose that's missing certain parts and still littered with scars and freckles alike. The sunken in left side of his face and the long scar stretching up his cheek. The assortment of discolored skin and glistening scars all over him. 

I truly can't get enough of his unique beauty. 

He may be a total ass, but something about him-- something about the way he acted like a normal person today-- makes me want to kiss all the traumas on his body and let him know that it'll be okay. The same way he did for me today.

I don't. I refrain, if only for his peace of mind because intimacy as gentle as that would no doubt confuse both of us and probably put an end to our situation too. I have to fuck him at least once before something happens and we end up hating each other again.

Sal's vulnerable expression drops into one of mild aggravation; pinched lips and a lazy, uninterested gaze. He's tired of his least favorite part of himself being ogled I guess. 

I mirror his expression even if he can't fully see it with the mask, but stick my tongue in my cheek for added effect. His cobalt irises narrow in response and he smacks his lips to combat my attitude, which is his fault by the way.

"Aren't I lucky that we made a deal and you can't get snappy with me right now," I chirp, knowing that it's going to tick him off just a little more.

"I can disrespect you in more ways than one," he replies in his slightly raspy, smooth voice that feels like ice dripping down my spine. Oh, he's good.

"So do it," I tell him breathlessly, eyes glancing between his.

"I need to know what you want first," he cuts in before anything can begin, raising an eyebrow. He takes a little step backward, laying his prosthetic on top of a set of drawers. "We made an arrangement for tonight and I know it's a delicate one, so I don't want to do anything that'll make you uncomfortable."

Ever the gentleman. 

He did a lot for me today. It was completely out of character, but when I think about it, his actions could be his way of thanking me for not fearing him or treating him differently because of his face and disability. If I was suddenly revealed, like he was, I would appreciate not having it made into a big deal. Maybe he appreciates that too, and this is how he's showing it.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable either," I note rather awkwardly. It's weird to have to... care. 

I watch Sal grimace like he feels weird about this new dynamic we have going on too. "Shut up, y/n," he hisses out. "I'm..." He takes an audible breath, sorting through his words. "To bury myself in you is enough, don't worry." He says it with some truthful clarity, so I only purse my lips and nod to myself. Makes sense.

He fills in the minute empty space between us again and his hands lightly run up my sides, feeling what little of me that he can with our clothing separating us. "What do you want?" He asks, voice low and quiet while his eyes meet mine again.

Simply feeling the pressure of his hands on me makes my chest feel like it'll cave in, the lack of air in my lungs burning my throat. I can't form thoughts for a second, my mouth working but no sound coming out.

A little smug grin quirks Sal's rough lips at my silence. God, and the dimple on his right cheek has me folding like a fucking lawn chair on the inside. 

I swallow and force myself to take in some air. "I've been degraded enough today," is the first thing I say to him. 

That smile of his is gone in a moment, his lack of expression showing his seriousness. He nods, waiting for me to continue.

"But," I add, looking off to the side. I can't say this to his face. "Fuck me hard enough so that I can't remember that I had enough degradation." I chew on my bottom lip, nearly curse to myself before adding a forced, "Please."

"So polite," Sal coos, the light praise being the sole reason why I can't turn my head to look at him again. "Can you remind me of our safe word?"

Not demanding. Still dominant, but... gentler. 

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth. "Twitterpated."

His hands leave my sides immediately. "Good," he purrs. "If you're in a position where you can't use your words-- which, at some point, you will be in this position-- tap me twice. I'll understand."

I finally find the willpower to look at him again, finding his hands hovering over me but never touching me and some kind of inebriated glint in his eyes. Like he's excited but won't allow himself to show it.

He doesn't move. Just watches me expectantly. Waiting. 

I release an impatient sigh. "Touch me, Sal."

I'm unable to see his reaction to my words, I only feel it when his hands fly back to my waist and grip me. He hides his face in my neck, those slightly crooked teeth nipping at my skin as he walks us backward.

I gulp, drunk on the feeling of his scarred lips against my throat and his teeth scratching at my skin-- his fingertips digging into my flesh.

I grab onto his shoulders to steel myself, a gasp falling from my lips when his hands find their way under my shirt, his cold palms a stark contrast to the warmth of my sides. Those same hands drag upward, reaching my ribcage and squeezing. 

"Jump," he rasps against my throat, pausing only to wait for me to do as he said.

I follow his command and he uses his grip on my ribs to help with lifting me up, quickly moving one arm under my thighs to catch me.

Sal's lips leave my neck, his head tilting sideways to watch where he's walking. He takes just three steps before throwing me onto his bed.

I suck in a breath, my eyes on him as he pushes his hair back with a hand, looking down at me with a predator's gaze. He tries to hide it, tries to be gentler to honor my wishes, but I can tell it's tough on him.

Makes me a little proud. His struggle is kind of cute.

"Stop smiling," he mumbles emotionlessly, leaning down to grab my hips and pull me toward him. 

I drop the unknown smile from my face. I didn't even realize I was doing it. "Sorry," I tell him, losing a couple braincells when he wraps my legs around his waist, his clothed cock pressing against me. Fuck. "Just amusing watching you try to be something you're not."

His hands, which had begun moving up my thighs and back to my waist, pause as he turns his gaze to me. Completely unimpressed. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a retort. "Just because I'm going easy on you doesn't mean you can act like that."

"There must be some miscommunication," I press, yearning for some bite from him. "I didn't tell you to go easy on me."

He breathes in slowly, eyes glued to me. I feel like a science experiment under scrutiny. So long as it's his scrutiny, I don't really... mind.

Sal looks like he has a lot to say, a lot to do. He looks utterly ravenous. But instead of acting on it like I want him to, he returns his gaze to my body and moves his hands to my jeans. He undoes the button, fingers dipping into the waistband to start moving the fabric down my legs.

"If we get interrupted again," he says in a gravelly tone, a bit of that dominance I'm aching for leaking into his words. "I'll fuck you in front of them."

Butterflies flutter around my tummy. He needs to stop talking or else I'll cum before we can even get to what he's talking about. 

Another reason he needs to stop talking is because he likes to predict shit. 

Oh, and his bedroom door just squeaked on its hinges.

My eyes go wide and my heart drops into my stomach just as Sal tilts his head up to me, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

And then a long, drawn out, pissed off meow echoes through his room. Now it's my turn to be confused.

Sal and I communicate through eye contact alone, his expression slackens and he lets out a relieved breath, blinking at the wall behind me.

"Gizmo," he says, tone gentle and sweet. I swear my eyes are about to pop out of my head as I watch his personality do a complete one-eighty. "Bad timing, buddy."

Sal backs away from me, moving to the side to reveal a chunky orange cat. Gizmo, if what Sal said tells me anything, stands in his doorway with all the might of a small army of men. His tail in the air, curled at the end like a question mark.

"You have a cat?" I ask exasperatedly, unsure of what, exactly, I'm witnessing.

Sal throws me a look that tells me he's not confirming the obvious.

He turns back to the cat and drops to his haunches. Gizmo bounds over to him, pushing his head into Sal's outstretched palm and purring excitedly. "Are you hungry?" Sal asks, voice baby-like in the same way a parent talks to their child. 

What the fuck is going on.

I think back to last night and being briefly woken out of a sleep-stupor to the feeling of purring at my feet. It must have been this little guy.

I watch Sal scratch behind the cat's ears, his other hand running along Gizmo's back. Gizmo chirps his response to Sal's question.

Sal turns his head over his shoulder, face angelic with all his features relaxed rather than harsh like they have been every time I've had a chance to see them. "Give me a second," he tells me, a bit of that tone he uses for Gizmo still evident. I blanch, mentally beating myself with a bat that has the words 'THAT TONE IS NOT FOR ME' etched onto the object. 

I don't say anything, too shocked to form actual words. 

Sal grabs Gizmo, lifting him into his arms and walking out of the room. 

I lean back onto his bed, blinking at the ceiling. I'm glad it was a cat that walked into his room and not an actual person. But regardless, seeing him be so sweet on purpose is odd. It reminds me of the time we ran into fans in Las Vegas. It's just so uncharacteristic of him to be nice... but then again, he was nice to me for nearly the entire day.

A few months ago, niceness coming from him was off-putting. Now, I don't really mind it. It's different, but not unwelcome. It shows me that he can be an actual person, not just an unfeeling asshole. In fact, it proves that he isn't an unfeeling asshole-- that his shitty persona is just a facade. Maybe a safety mechanism?

He feels the need to hide something. His vulnerability? Shield himself from betrayal? That would track if he's so nervous about his face. It's so frustrating that it took seeing his face for me to finally understand him. To make sense of his behavior and reactions and not immediately blame him for all of it. 

I chew on the inside of my cheek, pushing up and resting on my elbows. I glance around his room that's packed up for the most part-- it's just his bed frame, PC, and desk that are still set up. Proves that they've been planning on moving for at least a few weeks now. They probably had already decided to move when we were in Vegas.

There's still a little bit of him here though. An assortment of medication bottles on top of the dresser he laid his prosthetic on, different masks on the wall above it. Probably there for when he wants something other than his every-day prosthetic, even though I've never seen him wear these other ones.

I almost feel inclined to walk around his room and inspect everything like it's a museum exhibit. But I can't-- at the end of the day, as nice as he's been lately, this is still Sal. One wrong move and he'll take it personally. Besides, these are his personal belongings. It would be a shitty move to go and pry into anything that isn't mine to begin with.

Sal walks through the doorway in the middle of my observing, shutting the door behind him but making sure it's completely closed this time.

He walks up to the bed-- up to me and grabs my hips again. There's a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches me with those bright eyes. "Let's try that again-- while he's distracted."

The dash of humor makes a guilty smile form on my face too, and Sal's ghost of a grin widens a bit in response.

That is, up until he yanks me to him. His dick is hard against me and I nearly groan at the feeling. I note the little upward tilt of Sal's head. He's proud, clearly.

"I want to see if you're all talk," Sal purrs, smile morphing into something more sensual, the sight of his teeth making a shiver run up my spine. 

He takes up the task he'd set out to do before he left the room, pulling my jeans off of my body. Then he's gripping at the flesh of my thighs, feeling and enjoying it.

"You told me to be nice, but that you don't want this easy, right?" Sal asks, tongue running over his torn bottom lip as he towers over me. I nod my confirmation, just a few words away from drooling all over this man.

He doesn't ask for any more. He carefully grabs onto my panties, fingertips teasing me with their gentle drag along my hips, and pulls them down my legs. He doesn't discard them the same way he did my jeans though; he bunches them into his fist and looks back to me, tilts his head.

"I have neighbors." That's his excuse before shoving my panties into my own mouth to undoubtedly keep me quiet. My eyes widen and I glare at him, but I don't move them. He seems to bathe in my aggravation and my willingness to cooperate, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

He pushes me farther onto the bed and drops to his knees. Damn. That's a pretty sight.

His grip tightens on my thighs, painted nails deliciously digging into my skin. "Any last words?" He asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. He's dragging this out on purpose-- I'm bare to him, he can see my arousal he's just being a dick. 

Despite it all, my heart is running a marathon and my limbs threaten to quake in exhilaration with each second he looks at me as if he knows he's going to be my undoing.

A muffled, aggravated groan leaves me in response and he only chuckles a bit, dipping his head down and rewarding me with his lips closing around my clit. He doesn't tease me like he did last time, just goes straight to what he intended.

I melt into the mattress, shutting my eyes and drowning in the bliss of his tongue caressing my clit, his teeth occasionally scraping over the bundle of nerves, and just the soft feel of his lips alone. 

His hands are so tight on my skin that it hurts, but it hurts so good-- the combination of pain and his tongue dipping past my folds makes tears well in my eyes. The fact that he's gone down on me twice in two days is heavenly. Who knew I'd get this lucky?

The best moan I can muster up fills the quiet room when he gets more aggressive, his tongue licking up my pussy before he bites into the flesh of my thighs, sucking on my skin and making it sting on purpose-- because he knows I like it.

His thumb rubs along the inside of my leg to soothe the pain when my back arches off the bed, his teeth releasing me a moment later. He licks at the bruised skin before returning to my slit with a singular, panted breath of obvious enjoyment.

His tongue dances between my folds, drawing patterns that I don't have the brainpower to distinguish along my clit. His mouth drives me to madness, only adds to a quick-building orgasm that I can't control because he's just so good with everything-- in words and actions.

He sucks my clit into his mouth one last time before standing up and leaning over me, huffing breaths between those parted, glistening lips. He uses his hands on my legs to wrap them around his waist again, but moves one between my thighs, replacing his mouth with his fingers that he buries into me easily. 

I squeeze my eyes shut despite wanting to watch the expression on his face. I tilt my head back as his fingers slide in and out of me, eliciting a deep pleasure that makes my body react of its own accord.

"You don't want me to tell you about how you're such a good slut for me," Sal says breathlessly, the hand that isn't at my pussy moving to my stomach. He pushes my shirt up until he's able to lean down and press his mouth to my warm skin. I tense beneath him at the contact, the delicate feeling of his lips moving roughly above my navel. "So how about," he pauses, licking up my torso to my ribs. "I pamper you with all the things any normal guy would tell the woman lying beneath him."

I suck in a breath, eyes still shut as he slams his fingers into my pussy, curling them to hit a spot that makes my body jolt. There's so much going on, his hand bringing me to climax and his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin of my ribcage. 

He uses the hand holding up my shirt to maneuver it over my chest, haphazardly lifting it past my neck and over my head. My hair is a mess as he chucks it somewhere into his room-- but I don't care. He doesn't care as he adds another digit into my cunt, his thumb expertly rubbing my clit. 

He reaches underneath me, miraculously unclipping my bra first try and yanking it off me-- all the gentleness he tried to flaunt minutes ago disappearing entirely. 

He doesn't bother taking a look at my chest, he only moves upward to lick my hardened nipple, his free hand palming the opposite breast all the while he keeps pounding his fingers into me. "Someone normal would tell you that you look pretty like this."

Holy hell, I'm going to cum before we can fuck.

"That you look stunning in the low lighting with my fingers filling you up, and your flushed cheeks-- the tears in your eyes." I feel myself falling apart underneath him, his fingers reaching deep within me and his mouth latching onto my nipple, his hand running down the length of my stomach. And he must know because his lips stretch against my skin, moving away from my breasts to glance up and send me an inebriating grin that's so full of equally evil and sensual promises. "That you look so beautiful when you're losing yourself."

I can't look at him anymore. Not when there's truth to those words hiding somewhere deep in his cerulean eyes. Not with his fingers curling into me again and his hand roaming over my stomach.

But that same hand grips my chin, shakes it a bit until I open my eyes and look at him. His jaw is clenched tight, something sinister in the eyes that were praising me just moments ago. "Cry for me," he says in a guttural, assertive tone. 

I cum all over his fingers, my hand grabbing onto his strong bicep as the tears he asked me for slip down my cheeks even if he can't see them. I can't control them, nor can I contain the muttered pleas for more, or less, or for him that tumble past my lips only to be muffled by the panties in my mouth. 

He helps me through the sudden orgasm, lips pressing little kisses between my breasts while his eyes never leave me. He removes his fingers from my pussy after I come down from my high. I pant at the ceiling, finding it harder to breathe with the fabric in my mouth.

Sal notices and plucks my panties from my lips, causing me to shut my eyes in ecstasy as a fresh wave of air invades my lungs. I almost choke on the first breath. 

In my peripheral, I watch Sal stick his soaked fingers into his mouth and lick up the excess of everything he couldn't taste when his tongue was on buried in me. I nearly choke again.

"Such a good girl for me," he praises, standing to his full height but never parting our bodies-- my legs still wrapped around his middle. He does lean over though, opening a drawer on his bedside table. 

He pulls out a foil packet and drops it onto my stomach. "We're doing it the right way this time," he informs me, nodding at the condom.

I swallow past the unbridled excitement building within me. "Why didn't you use one?" I pant, sucking in a big breath of air before continuing. "The last time?"

Sal tilts his head disappointedly in answer, averting his gaze. I watch the way his scarred lips move as he says, "Got ahead of myself. Couldn't wait."

"Oh," I breathe, snorting afterward. "Proud of myself for that one."

"Remember that you didn't insist on protection either. You're as guilty as I am," Sal informs me and I roll my eyes, an action that makes him smirk a bit-- all the pride I felt returning to him.

Sal and I have learned, at least by this point, to not waste time on arguing when we're in the middle of sex. Because something always gets in the way of us continuing. So Sal grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head, dropping the article behind him.

I soak up the sight of him, my gaze roving over the various tattoos on his body as he stands before me. The dagger on his neck, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The map of depictions along his left arm and the vines down his right. The moon and stars peaking past the waistband of his sweats.

He's just so fucking beautiful. I don't have words to describe him.

"One thing I'm going to ask of you," Sal says, using a tone I haven't heard all day. He was serious with me early, but this sounds vital. "Don't look past my stomach."

I freeze, eyes moving back to his. I try not to let my thoughts show through my reaction, but I'm sure he notices what I'm thinking because he pinches his lips. Doesn't let up that dominant gaze of telling me I have to follow through with this condition. 

It's because of the scars on his thighs. I won't press him again-- ever. His reaction when I brought it up the first time, followed by Larry unintentionally spelling out the truth, told me enough. He doesn't have to tell me, he isn't obligated. He's always done whatever I ask and taken care to make me comfortable. 

I gulp, regulate the features of my face that he can see and nod my confirmation to him. "I won't look."

Sal blinks, nodding back to me and loosing a little breath. I keep my eyes on his as he pushes his sweats down, kicking them off. His boxers follow moments later and I feel the moment his cock springs free, brushing along the inside of my thigh.

My chest rises with the heavy breath I take, my heart racing in my chest and my cheeks growing warm. Sal watches me with lidded blue eyes and grabs the condom off my stomach, bringing the packet to his mouth and ripping it open with his teeth.

My eyes roll back and I close them as soon as possible to keep at least a little of my dignity. Sal saw it anyway though and he laughs a bit, the pretty sound wrapping around me like the vines on his arm.

"Open your eyes, y/n," he rasps. And I have to; he used my name. "Watch me. Stop being shy. There's no room for that shit once I fuck you."

I open my eyes and watch him as he instructed, never looking lower than his chest even as I catch his arms rolling the condom onto himself in my peripheral. 

And he's done in a moment, leaning toward me and hovering with his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of me. His gaze falls to my chest before his eyes can meet mine. "You look scared," he mutters, filling me with deja vu at the repetition of our conversation yesterday.

I continue the memory with quiet, shaky words. "I am."

Yesterday, he asked me why. Today, his eyes dance over my masked face-- all nonchalance and a lion towering over a cornered bunny as he says lowly, "You should be."

I don't get time to sit and contemplate his words because one of his hands moves between my thighs. Then his dick presses against my folds, carefully and delicately pushing in just a bit. His nostrils flare as he sucks in a quick breath, eyes still holding my gaze. "Can you take all of me or do I have to go slow?"

My pussy dampens at his consideration and at the feeling of his warm cock gently pressing into me. "Slow," I answer him softly, feeling a fluttering in my chest. "For now. It's been a while."

Sal nods, taking his time pushing his length into me, allowing me time to adjust. I wince a bit at the burning feeling of his cock stretching me out, but I don't stop him. Regardless of the dull slice of pain, it feels good.

Good enough that I have to pant through how painstakingly slow he's taking this. Hell, I didn't mean this slow.

But he fills me up to the hilt and then stops, giving me extra time to simply feel him. Being so full and relishing in the throbbing warmth of his thick cock is otherworldly bliss. Even without him moving, having him buried in me is so pleasurable that a soft, satisfied moan leaves my throat. 

Sal takes that as his cue to move, pulling out of me before slowly-- not as slowly as before-- pushing in again. "You're okay?" he whispers, his furrowed brows saying more than enough about how good it feels for him. 

I nod, whimpering and shutting my eyes again.

"Fuck," he grounds out behind clenched teeth. "Thank God."

He unsheathes himself before slamming into me again, slow pace abandoned and replaced with something unchecked and monstrous. I nearly scream, only held back by the reminder that he has neighbors or what-fucking-ever.

His cocks pounds into me, his head dropping onto my chest as his hands grip my hips with brutal strength, no doubt leaving behind bruises that I can be proud of later.

The feeling of his hard dick sliding into me at such a fast pace so suddenly is heavenly, coating my insides with erotic pleasure that I haven't experienced before-- his hands on me and him panting against my chest, taking the moment and suffocating in it.

He lifts his head, a gratifying, sensual glare plastered onto his face as he watches me and picks up that barbaric pace. 

His lips part and he pants through each thrust, a hand moving away from my waist to wrap around my throat. My air is cut off as he squeezes and I feel myself falling apart again. Even more so when he uses his other hand to press down on my stomach as he continues to pound into me just to feel himself, feel his cock moving in and out of me.

My pussy clenches around him and he groans at the feeling, leaning his head down to nip at my stomach. "You feel so fucking good," he says breathlessly, licking at my skin. His lips skim along my flesh as he ruts against me, dick filling me up and showing me all the reasons why he swore I wouldn't be able to handle him. 

With a grunt, Sal stands up and pulls out of me, releasing my throat and wrapping an arm around my waist. He flips me onto my stomach with no hesitation or struggle and that alone is hot in and of itself. 

He grabs onto my hips, lifting them and pulling me against his waist. His cock, wet with my arousal, presses against my ass and he whimpers. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead into the mattress, gasping for air against the fabric. He's so vocal and it's so addicting that it hurts.

Sal adjusts himself, pushing his dick past my folds from behind. The change in position elicits a completely different kind of ecstasy compared to before. I moan loudly at the feeling, my fingertips digging into his bedsheets.

He doesn't give me a moment to recover; he grabs onto my hair and forcefully pulls me backward, causing my back to arch and my jaw to drop.

Sal slams into me again, one hand on my waist and the other gripping my hair tightly. There's no consideration in his fucking, no niceness. No gentleness. He's only chasing his own release and hoping I can reach it with him.

He uses that hand in my hair to jerk me back even more so that I have to get onto my knees. I fall back against his chest and he never relents in his fast, wicked pace. Sal grips onto my throat again, holding me to him and panting into my ear. "Do you like when I fuck you like this?"

I don't have the words to answer when he's fucking them out of me. I only groan in response, solely focused on the carnal feeling of his cock filling me up again and again.

"Still think you can handle me?" He whispers, lips brushing the skin of my neck since he can't speak any louder without his voice shaking. I can tell by the light tremor that's already in his tone, followed by the way his hands squeeze me tighter and his chest smacks into my back with the force of his harsh thrusting.

I can handle all of him. I told him he would be wrong about me. I was worried that maybe I was wrong for thinking I could take him. But I've never been so right.

I know he wants me to fall apart and beg him to go easier on me. So I tell him, "More." Moans erupt past my lips the moment I utter the word. I swear Sal stills-- but it's so brief that I can't be disappointed about it. He chokes on a laugh before sinking his teeth into the side of my neck and slamming into my pussy even harder than before. 

I cry out, grabbing onto his forearm with one hand and reaching back to grab onto his hair with the other. Sal sucks on the skin of my neck, grunting with each rough thrust into my cunt.

"My good girl," he moans softly, taking a deep breath to follow. "If you go and fuck another man, you're going to imagine me in his place for the rest of your life." I think he's right. 

His cock twitches in me and I groan, gripping his hair tighter while I try to hold myself together for at least a little longer, relish in his cock stretching me out and bringing me the most hedonistic feeling I've ever experienced. 

I don't know how the hell he's able to speak in these conditions. Maybe it's the pride of being in control.

Sal finally changes to a painstakingly slow pace. I feel every inch of him sink into me, every centimeter of his warm, throbbing cock fill me up and then leave me empty. Again and again and again until tears are sliding down my cheeks the way they were just moments ago. 

"I want the thought of me to plague you every time you fuck someone again," he hisses, every word separated by a quick breath that caresses my neck like a promise-- a secret that he and I alone will take to the grave. "You'll think of me every time. You'll taste me on your tongue like the most potent flavor to exist on this earth." He pauses, my heart slamming against my ribcage as his hand moves from my throat to brush my hair away from my face, his lips moving along my skin and his dick sliding into me so sweetly. The rest of me feels numb-- everything focused solely on my core and the second orgasm I'm about to have.

"You'll feel me on every inch of you like you're trapped in the strongest of spider webs." My thoughts are dizzying as he speaks, his teeth scraping at my neck and his thrusts so calculated. My mouth goes dry as he grabs onto my chin with his entire hand, keeping me still as a statue, controls me while he uses me. "See me even though I'm not there, haunting you every second."

This motherfucker is hexing me.

"Sal--" I say in a broken whimper, trying to speak past the chills that erupt along my body as the breath I'm trying to take catches in my throat.

"Shut up," he bites out, lips brushing along my jaw. "I want you to know that you're mine without me having to say a word," he begins, his voice raspy, deep, and wavering from the focus he puts into each sensuous thrust. So much animosity, so much destruction in his tone. 

His hand snakes down from my waist to my pussy, warm fingers working on my clit. I groan in response, throwing my head back onto his shoulder. "You don't get to cum until you accept that." And then his thrusts stop, my pussy clenching around nothing as emptiness ravages me, the loss of him disgustingly astounding.

I let out a disappointed, pained breath, gripping him tighter in my hands. "So," he purrs against my skin, marred lips stretching into a proud, feline smile. "Who do you belong to?"

I suck in a breath through my nose. There's a lot going on right now, and maybe he's just saying this for added effect, but I need to tread carefully regardless. We don't need to start something that shouldn't exist.

"What do I get," I start, trying to control the trembling in my voice. "If I tell you what you want to hear?"

"Anything you want," Sal whispers in response. I let out a breath, realizing that he's not even half as serious as he sounded. Being in control is just his kink. He needs me to give into that.

"Then," I start, gulping as pulsing heat and pain begin to take the place of his thrusts. I need him inside me, I need him to finish this. "I'm yours," I tell him sweetly, adding some sugar to my tone and loosening my grip on him to something more delicate. Becoming the puppet he desires.

Sal groans into my neck before shoving his length into me again, giving me the perfect pleasurable pain that I wanted from him. He keeps a steady, quick pace that makes me whimper, tightening my hold on him despite trying to submit. 

"Such a dirty girl," Sal says gruffly. "You're doing so good. Keep taking me."

I moan loud enough for the sound to echo off his bedroom walls and his fingers rub my clit faster in approval. 

"You let me fuck you so well, sweetheart," he utters the raspy words against my skin, his thrusts growing sloppier the more he talks. And, what the fuck, but all his yapping is pushing me closer.

"I'm going to cum," he warns me, "You better, too." His hand returns to my throat, gripping tightly as he growls, "Let the whole neighborhood know how good my cock feels."

I whimper at his command, luxuriating in the quickness of his harsh pace and his hands holding me so tightly, his fingers working me just as fast as his dick is.

The combination of his words and his hard cock sliding into me at such a bruising rate makes me go limp in his arms, the orgasm slamming into me out of nowhere. I cry out as Sal's grip tightens on me, both of us seemingly surprised by my sudden climax. But the second the warmth of my cum seeps onto him, he hums his approval, tongue lapping at my throat.

And yet he still says in a smooth, gentle, condescending tone, "You came before you were supposed to."

My breath stutters and I'm still seeing stars, my vision blackened in the corners and my thighs quivering. And he's still pounding into my pussy, overstimulating me with each thrust. It's so much, but it feels so good.

He seems to sense this, so he pulls his still rock hard cock out of me and steps away from the bed. I groan at the loss of him yet again, but don't have time to bitch and cry about it. 

He grabs onto my hair and yanks me onto the ground in front of him, pushing my shoulders down to put me on my knees. The entire action is so forceful, so careless and my already wet thighs dampen a bit more. 

Sal's request for me to not look below his waist is hard to honor in this position, but I keep my gaze angled at his face. 

Oh, his pretty face is flushed and sweaty, his hair sticking to his cheeks and neck. One of his pupils is blown out, the other normal. His lips are parted and he looks like he's about to explode.

I can't see it, but I can hear when Sal pulls the condom off and throws it into a trash can. He grabs me by the hair again, jerking me closer to him, the tip of his dick rubbing over my lips. "Suck," he orders, a glare on his handsome face. "And swallow everything that I give you."

Sal honors his only request better than I can by forcing his cock into my mouth. I struggle to take his length, but suck on what amount of him that enters me.

My tongue twists around him, licking up the excess pre-cum and sucking. My eyes stay focused on him the entire time and I take true pride in the way he hisses at the feeling, face contorting into one of immense pleasure. He bucks his hips, shoving himself deep into my throat and furrowing his brows, his mouth falling open. He watches his cock fill up my mouth like it's the best gift to ever be bestowed upon him.

I watch when Sal shuts his eyes and tilts his head back followed by a loud, pretty moan that leaves his open mouth. Such a beautiful sound-- I could cum all over again just from hearing him break like this.

His grip on my hair tightens and he continues thrusting into my mouth, not giving me a good opportunity to do any work for him. He uses me to chase his own orgasm, his hand in my hair to push me forward to meet each thrust. I take it, my gaze still glued to his face as he falls apart in front of me.

He whimpers before his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. Without a word of warning, considering he already warned me, he bursts in my mouth.

This time, unlike our moment in Vegas, I swallow everything. None of his cum falls to the floor. I groan at the taste, tongue flicking over the tip of his dick. Sal flinches, releasing a shocked breath.

But after a moment of clarity, Sal lets go of my hair and pulls his cock from my mouth. I release him with a pop and he groans. The second we separate, I look up at him so as not to breach the little bit of trust between us.

He watches me, towers over me. He's still recovering clearly and I think he fucked the literacy out of both of us. I don't have words and he looks like he's short-circuiting. 

"Fuck," he finally breathes, struggling to draw out the word.

I give him a little upside down smile and try to stand on shaky legs. Sal, chivalrous as he is even with the whole post-nut clarity thing, grabs my elbows to help me up.

I sit on his bed, fully aware of the mess between my legs. Sal doesn't complain though. In fact, he sits down next to me and stares at the closed door in front of us. We both do.

This feels like a scene out of a movie. Neither of us know where to go from here. 

I sigh, giving myself a moment to think through my options. I need to clean myself and then I need to drink an entire gallon of water. He fucked me good. There's no coming back from this, I'm afraid. He knew that. He warned me.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I say quietly my voice coming out hoarse. If I'm quick, I can make it there without worrying about anyone walking in on me naked. Hopefully.

Sal distractedly hums his acknowledgement so I stand up, legs still jello-like, and grab all my clothes. And then I fucking book it out of his room and across the living room.

I take care of myself in the bathroom, feeling some kind of lucid numbness. I feel great, I just had really good sex. But at the same time, there's a difference between Sal and I. I don't know how to feel about it, nor do I want to address it. But something's just... off. Part of me is afraid that he'll end things because of it, but maybe that needs to happen. Maybe this needs to be the cut off.

Thinking about it fills me with anxiety. As much as things have progressed, I still see the image of me crying back in Vegas. The same would happen if he were to end things now.

But I take a breath, brush my teeth, take a quick shower, and prepare myself to walk out of the bathroom. He might still be in his room and he may stay there. That's probably what he will do actually-- he looked pretty out of it.

And you know what, I'll reward myself with his beloved string cheese. Because, hell, if he ends things I'll just fuck someone else. Maybe he's right-- maybe he'll haunt me and no one else will ever be as good as him, but I'll still get to have sex.

Things will be fine.

With a quick, revitalized breath, I open the bathroom door.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Sal is sitting at the table in the kitchen. Now I can't sneak a string cheese.

I blink at his back, watching him scroll through his phone from a distance. I'm still parched though, so I walk over to the kitchen and open the refrigerator, intent on ignoring him since any phrase from me would most likely be a bad decision.

"If you're hungry or something, you can take whatever you want," Sal says in a voice that's both void of tone but insisting. Like he wants me to take all the shit in his fridge.

Not like I'll tell him no. Guess I can't get away with ignoring him though.

"Thanks," I murmur, grabbing a string cheese, opening it, then stuffing it into my mouth. I glance around then grab a bottle of water. My eyes cut to the milk and I purse my lips, biting off a chunk of cheese. "Do you have cereal?"

"Mhm. Bowls are in the cabinet next to you, spoons right under it in the drawer, and cereal is in the pantry." Followed by his words is the sound of his chair moving. And then he says, "Grab double. I'm getting the cereal."

Pausing, I glance over my shoulder at him. A shock runs through me when I watch him get up, noting that he did't bother putting his prosthetic on. 

I blink as I watch his figure disappear from view. Ignore, ignore, ignore. I slowly turn back to the cabinet and grab two bowls, then two spoons, followed by the milk on my way over to the table.

Sal comes returns swiftly, taking a seat beside me of all places. He grabs a bowl and a spoon, pours a considerable amount of Trix cereal into his bowl, then pours the milk. 

I can't look at him. I really cannot look at him.

He hands me the cereal and I pour some into my bowl followed by milk.

This is so fucking awkward. It's too domestic. Too normal. He and I are not normal.

The house is quiet aside from the sound of us eating, and I watch Sal scroll through Twitter from the corner of my eye. I'm trying my hardest to eat my fruity soup as normally as possible even though the silence is really starting to get to me.

My thoughts are weighing on me. I thought I'd be fine, I thought it wouldn't bother me. But Sal isn't saying anything and now I'm scared. I'm scared that this will be it and he won't want me anymore-- and, fuck, why does it even matter?

"Do you still want to fuck me?"

The words tumble past my lips before I can even decide I want to say them.

Sal's head turns toward me, so I look over at him. His mouth is full, the cereal puffing out the cheek that's usually sunken in. His eyes are innocently wide, like he didn't expect me to say something-- that, of all things.

I gulp, the action reminding Sal of the situation. He snaps out of his stupor and covers his mouth, turning away from me to finish his bite of cereal. When he finally turns back to me though, he's recovered a bit and slapped a nonchalant expression onto his face.

"Yes, I still want to fuck you," he says as if it's the most obvious thing.

I glance between his pretty eyes, watching as he does the same to me. I try to ignore the relief that infects my veins, the giddiness that fills me with adrenaline.

"Okay," I respond, turning back to my cereal.

Sal looks at me for a bit longer before also returning to his cereal. Quiet ensues again and I'm honestly about to just ditch my cereal and turn on the TV. What's worse than constantly bickering is the silence between us.

And then Sal breaks that suffocating silence with, "I'm sorry."

My brows furrow and I face him again. He doesn't look at me, but I watch as he chews on his bottom lip, staring at his phone like he didn't just say something really important.

"What do you have to be sorry about?" I ask him.

Sal looks to me and sets his spoon down. "For what I said in Vegas." His voice is sincere, but as in control as he possibly can be. He doesn't want to admit quite how bad he feels about it, but it shows in the fact that he's apologizing for a second time.

"You already apologized for that," I inform him, my voice gentle. I know I hate feeling remorse and it's hard to apologize, so I appreciate that much from him at least.

"Then I'm doing it again," he says, looking off to the side. "You didn't deserve it. And I don't deserve so many chances."

I almost feel bad seeing him so sorrowful.

"Don't worry about it," I sigh halfheartedly, going back to my cereal. My spoon clinks against the side of my bowl. "You fucked me good. That makes up for it."

Sal hums his agreement, a short chuckle following. "I told you I would," he chirps. Proud bastard. "You weren't too bad yourself."

"I wasn't 'too bad?'" I snap, thankful for the sense of normalcy. "Says the man who literally could not shut up the entire time. 

Sal shrugs before sending me a glare. "I'm vocal. Do you want me to say nothing during sex like you? That shit's awkward."

"You should be honored by my silence," I scoff, pointing my spoon at him. "I couldn't talk because you fucked the ability out of me."

His azure gaze darkens at my words. "Careful with what you say or you'll get fucked again."

I gulp. The way he's watching me with that dominant stare, his tattooed hand gripping his spoon tighter. The fact he's put his phone down to put all his focus on me.

"I wish we could," I whisper, my voice coming out raspy.

Sal licks his lips and he blinks, remembering that our friends could come home any second. That it's not worth the risk. "Yea," he replies, looking away to pick up his spoon with a sigh. "Me too."

Almost as if fate wanted to confirm our thoughts rather than us think we had a shot at round two, the front door swings open.

Larry and Ash walk through the doorway, hanging on each other's arms and giggling like a pack of hyenas. I pause mid bite, mouth open and spoon hovering in the air as I watch them.

They've definitely been drinking, but they aren't drunk. Yet. 

Larry looks over at Sal and me and furrows his brows, eyes going wide. "The fuck are you two doing together?" His words express his shock better than his face can. "Sal do you not love me? You never take your prosthetic off around me. Is y/n a better brother than me?" The words are joking, of course, but by the narrowing of Larry's eyes, I can tell there's a brotherly quarrel that's about to break out.

I expect about as much when Sal sighs sarcastically, already tired of the rough night ahead and drops his spoon into his bowl. 

Milk splashes onto my arm in retaliation and my first instinct is to bark insults at him. "Come on, dickhead," I snap, glaring at him. Sal glares back-- and suddenly, we've started up the game that I missed so much. It's just so easy to fall back into old habits.

"Better for it to be milk than cum, right?" He grumbles, teeth peeking past his lips with each syllable. I'm torn between curling up like a dead spider at the insinuation and admiring the little bits of him I don't see often.

"Shut the fuck up," I hiss in warning, narrowing my eyes at him. The retort is half-assed but how can I come up with one when one wrong step will only aid in Larry and Ash figuring us out?

"What if I don't want to, huh?" He counters, brows raising and lips pressing together as if he's challenging me. A little glimmer of something in his cerulean gaze. Something that begs me to pounce.

We have a glare-off for a couple, quiet seconds and I'm trying to think up an insult, a response, a diversion. Anything. But I can't-- I can't because despite the fact that things feel so normal between us, the arguing is more for a reaction. The bickering is just a veil over the truth now.

"Well," Ash cuts in, saving my ass. "At least you're in a better mood now, y/n. We were worried about you." I pull my attention from Sal and focus it on Ash.

She's watching me with big, green doe eyes that are silently asking if she can know now that I've calmed down.

That familiar pit in my gut forms at the reminder of my mother. At least now, compared to when Sal and I first got back, I realize that I can figure something out. Ash and Larry can help me come up with a solution. But-- "Where the hell are Todd and Neil?" I ask. It feels like they've been gone the entire time we've been in Nockfell.

Ash rolls her eyes at the mention, switching her weight from her left foot to her right to put a hand on her hip. "Those two rapscallions would rather be anywhere but with us even thought they're getting their own apartment. They've never been social butterflies but, hell, still. I feel like a restless mother!" She answers with a little sneer, flicking her wrist toward the open expanse of the house to reinforce her point.

"At least you're a mother who cares," I snort, sending her a half-grin that's faker than my own mom's hot-shot persona.

Ash's expression drops followed by her stance slackening as realization dawns on her. "Is that why you were upset earlier? Heather being cum-guzzling bitch again?"

"Damn!" Larry exclaims with an approving glance at Ash. They're still tucked under each other's arms. If Ash didn't have such a strong preference for women, I have no doubt that these two would have ended up together.

Ash throws him a sensual smirk before turning back to me. "What did she say?"

I chew on my bottom lip as I recall the short phone call I had with her. "She knows that I'm VioletViolence. I don't know how-- I guess she recognized me in pictures."

Ash's face morphs into a more serious, angry expression. Larry follows suit, mimicking her with near perfection.

"She threatened to expose her identity and face, pretty much," Sal pipes up from his standing position beside me. I glance over, noting his hands perched on the surface of the table, his body leaned forward and his face tilted up to address Larry and Ash. Horrible positioning considering his dagger tattoo is on full display to me right now. 

Ash quirks a brow. "Okay, were you with her or did she tell you?"

Sal tips his head to the side, gaze scrutinizing to go with an unamused upward tilt of his lips. "You think she'd willingly tell me about her mommy issues?" He asks his own question, tone flat to accompany his sarcasm.

With a sigh and frustration curling in my gut, I hide my face in my palm and take a moment to remember the task at hand is not to beat this man to a bloody pulp but to figure out how to resolve this... mommy issue.

"We were in the middle of you and Larry's game whenever she called. It was... messy," I confirm Sal's claim, making sure they know that I'd rather eat a toe before going to him with my problems. Ever. Even if he did make those problems go away for a bit.

Hey, maybe he isn't good for nothing!

"What are you going to do?" Ash asks me warily, ignoring me and Sal's little hiccup.

I avert my gaze and purse my lips. I have the same question for myself. Anxiety at the prospect of being exposed wraps around me, constricts my airways and nerves. Disables my rational thought and the ability to breathe. 

A little body brushes along my leg, followed by a chirped greeting and the loudest purring I think I've ever heard.

Momentarily distracted, I look toward the floor and see Gizmo at my feet. He notices me, pushing up on his hind legs to make biscuits on the top of my thigh. A mixture of surprise and pure glee kicks the anxiety away as I lean over and scratch the top of his head.

"Pick him up," Sal murmurs. I turn my gaze up to him to find him looking down at Gizmo with furrowed brows. "You're anxious, he knows."

I suck in a quick breath before glancing down at Gizmo again. He came all the way over here because he sensed my distress?

But with Sal's permission, I do as he instructed and lift Gizmo into my arms. I plop him on top of my lap and the cat practically climbs up my torso like he's hugging me. He rubs his furry little head on my cheek and purrs against my chest. Oh my gosh, I might cry.

I turn my attention to Ash and Larry who have little smiles on their faces, meanwhile I'm fucking gaping at them. Where did this heaven-sent cat come from?

Sal scratches behind Gizmo's ear and sends the fur-ball a little smile. "You're such a hardworking guy," he coos, like the complete change in his character is nothing to be shocked about. In-fucking-sane. I can't get over the way he dad's his cat.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and blink at my friends. "I don't know," I finally force out, rubbing Gizmo's back. "I don't know what to do."

Ash's smile disappears upon returning to the topic we were previously discussing. "There are a couple things you could do. One, ignore it. She either will put you on blast or she won't. And if she does, what proof does she have that it truly is you?" She brings up a good point. "We haven't seen your face since you were a teenager. I'm sure she hasn't seen you in much longer."

I wince. "Actually..."

Ash's eyes widen with disbelief. "She's seen you more recently than I have!?"

"Not willingly," I rush to explain. "Split custody between my parents. I didn't have much of a choice. Last she saw me was when I was 17."

"Oh," Ash chirps, feeling a little less offended. "Okay." She sends me a pleased smile. "Here's your other option: move out."

I furrow my brows. That would solve absolutely nothing other than adding another bill to pay. "How would that fix anything?" I voice my internal thoughts.

Ash looks away from me, a little blush on her cheeks. "It wouldn't necessarily fix anything," she murmurs bashfully. "Maybe I just need a roommate, I dunno..."

She takes pride in making me cry, doesn't she?

"Hold on," I rush to say, cursing to myself when my voice wavers. I cut myself off so as to retain some dignity, but I'm sure the look in my eyes tells her enough. 

Gizmo hops off my lap, having done his job. So I stand up now that he's gone and push past Sal to get to Ash. "You need to--" I lick my lips as an excuse to take a moment to collect myself. "You need to warn me or something before you drop shit like that. What are you saying?"

Ash sends me her trademark puppy dog eyes and I already realize what's going on. "Fuck, fine," she forces the words out. "I bought a two-bedroom apartment. I need a roommate. Or, more like I want you as a roommate. I know I need to start double checking with you instead of loading you up with surprises... sorry."

I don't even know what to say, let alone think. I just gape at her, trying not to cry the way she seems to love making me do. Well, her and Sal. 

"Is rent expensive?" I whisper, voice hoarse with how tight my throat is. 

"Baby," she starts, giving me a stunning smile. "You don't have to pay a single thing. I'm just tired of being away from you."

"Don't hit me with that 'baby' bullshit," I choke out, smiling despite the challenge of having to speak. "I'm paying rent. I just need to know what I'm getting myself into. And I need to make sure dad is okay with living alone."

Ash's comforting smile turns into a wicked one full of sinister glee. If it was any other person, I'd probably be terrified. 

"It's a good thing I already asked your dad if I could steal you, then, isn't it?"

------------ A/N::::::: not gonna lie, i managed to type up this ENTIRE hoe in one sitting. don't ask me how i did it, i have no answer for you. girl math, guys. i've been living a lie ever since because this has been on my mind for DAYSSSS. shoutout to my dearest Autumn for running this chunk through an editor, like, THREE different times?? omfg. such a big help and much appreciated <33

ummm... enjoy this cuzzzz you know meeeee... probably won't update again for like another montthhhhh lololol o_o....

anyways, might look like a filler smut chap but ya girl HATES filler. i want plot, i want development. so if it looks like filler, just know that it has meaning that is deeper than surface level!! >.< a lot will be revealed verrryyyy soon

like always, leave me some feedback pretty pretty please so i can improve my writing! but ALSO like always, thank you for reading and for all the support. i love you all with everything i've got! have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night <333

[bubbysawyer]

Hello! I'd like to request a slasher matchup if you're still taking requests :)

I'm 5'7", INFP last time I checked, I'm fairly pale with freckles dusting the bridge of my nose and cheeks, I've got wavy (curly on a good day) darker auburn hair that sits past my shoulders a little, brown eyes, and 0g stretched ears. I'm very "y'allternative" both music and clothing wise. I grew up on a farm and have lived on farms most of my life. I'm a cat parent to three adorable kitties. I enjoy gardening, baking, and watching (horror) movies. I also have an unhealthy obsession with big, beefy, country men. My default summer outfit is a pair of handcut jean shorts, a tank top, and my boots. Most of the time though, I'm usually in some very comfy pajamas/sweats, drinking sweet tea, and relaxing/napping (I'm God's sleepiest soldier). I've been told I'm very sweet natured, caring, and motherly. I'm kinda quiet around new people, but once I'm comfortable I never shut up and I have a tendency to act childish and silly and just have a good time in general.

i am matching you with...Thomas Hewitt! (i got no clue what those tests mean sorry)

he loves your freckles. sometimes when you're both tired he'll pretend to trace them with his fingertip; and when he's comfortable after a while, tug his mask down to kiss them.

you're shorter than him but who isn't in this family? he's enormous

you got a thing for big beefy men? welp, thomas. he's one of the beefiest. and the cutiest.

luda adores you as well! you're a fine conversation source, as well as help around the house

charlie loves you too. in his way.

you're basically luda maes favorite, hands down. you keep her young.

she will often make you and thomas accompany each other with farm chores

he will absolutely show his strength off to you during chores but pretend like he isn't doing that to impress you

When things aren't being prepared or anything he will insist on letting you sleep in. He's even snuck in to shyly give you an extra blanket more than once. He thought you looked beautiful in your sleep.

Thomas is very reserved by default so your silly nature kind of broke him out of a shell he did not know he had at first, so he nervously tried something else with you

Good thing you never stop talking, Luda loves that

[yumomia]

So now I obviously know what Mia, Mo, and Yuko all look like.

But I know for certain people they might vision them differently in their own head/fic stories.

So in your Mia and Me fanfics what am I supposed to be picturing when thinking of more specifically Yuko and Mo. Mo especially I’m interested to know.. like every little detail so please do describe them all to me 😭what’s his hair type? Did you make his skin darker? (Brown would look lovely if u ask me) what’s his nose shape like? Any beauty marks? Same for Yuko?? What’s going on appearance wise?

OH MY GOD I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK THIS

roughly, this is what the trio looks like, including mia's human form! but i'll do a quick rundown of specifics!!

mia: mia is the SPITTING IMAGE of her father, especially when she's in the human world. she has loose brown curls that reach down to about her upper back and her ears pierced. light brown freckles are on her cheeks, and she has a bigger beauty mark on her right cheek (the picrew i used didn't have that option lol). she's the shortest of the trio. in the human world, she has little pink streaks running through her hair that she usually has to use a spell to cover. there's a scar that can be seen stretching above her elf dress (which is the same as canon), almost reaching her neck, from fighting panthea. she likes to wear long sleeves to cover her bracelet, but as it's the middle of summer where we currently are in the story, she doesn't get that option much. her ears are a LITTLE bit pointed in the story when she's in the human world, and her wings are light pink, like in canon!

yuko: yuko is lithe and muscular. she has red hair that just brushes her shoulders when she lets it down, though she never does. she has a small mark shaped like a sun on her right cheek. it's not as obvious as her star from canon is, it glows gold when yuko uses a lot of magic. it's shaped like this!

her eyes are sapphire blue, and she tends to wear small blue gemstones in her hair. just because she's a badass warrior doesn't mean she can't look cute! she's also the only one (in canon as well) that wears real shoes! yuko wears gladiator sandals that lace up around her calves (whereas mia basically wears thigh-high socks and mo has half his foot out). when she can, she likes painting things on herself, like poetry and other little doodles, though she tends to only do that if she knows she won't have to fight anytime soon, so mia hasn't gotten to see the doodles. yuko has a roman nose, because i have a roman nose and i WILL project onto every one of these characters, so she has the small bump in the bridge of her nose. she has the most scars as well, from hundreds of fights over the years. her wings are the same yellowy-orange as from canon, though they are longer than mia's. she's the second-tallest in the group.

mo: mo is the one i changed the most, obviously. he's got dark brown skin (as does mayla, btw. they aren't blood related but in my heart mayla has dark skin and wears her hair in long braids). his curls are about 3b and his hair is like canon, so black it's almost blue. he has a rounder face than yuko does. his nose is flatter than the other two (and as stated in s1e20, they think it's adorable). he has way less scars than yuko. most of his tend to be on his hands from muncs' snakebites. technically, he's supposed to be wearing his crown everywhere, but mayla and raynor realized long ago that that's a lost cause and gave up lol. he's the tallest of the trio, beating yuko by about two inches, but his wings are shorter than hers, longer than mia's. his eyes are an indigo-sort of purple, the same as his friendship ring. he fidgets when he's uncomfortable, most often playing with his friendship ring or opening and closing his water glare. he wears ear cuffs up by the tips of his pointed ears as well, most of the time.

i hope this helped!! i got this less than a minute after you sent it so i've been making sure to include everything i can think of!!

story they're referencing

picrew i used

star tattoo source

[mortala-if]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100 FOLLOWERS! This drabble is somewhat canon because it can be altered depending on the MC's personality. 438 words.

You stride through the streets of The Cinders, your head lowered and your eyes glued to the dirt staining your shoes. The sun crawls in from atop the mass of crumbled buildings, splashing light over the streets. You stick your hands into your pockets, idly tracing over the hem connecting fabric to your jacket as your mind wanders.

"Excuse me?"

You startle, your chin snapping upward. Of course, you've been interacted with in public, but never on the road by people you don't know. And you've never wanted to be; most strangers aren't kind- you mainly want to disappear when walking from place to place. But, looking at this stranger, it feels weirdly different. You feel somewhat safe- as safe as you can feel being approached on the street, anyway.

The person who captured your attention has black hair that falls to their shoulders in wind-blown waves with eyes a glittering amber. They smile at you, close-lipped, causing their eyes to crease a little around the corners. Freckles are sprinkled along the bridge of their nose, gliding across and to their golden cheeks.

"Do you know where the..." they pause, looking down at an organized stack of papers held together by a shiny paperclip, "The… Bear Cave is?" They tilt their head at you, crinkling their eyes even more. It makes your stomach twist, and suddenly, you feel like your legs are made of jelly.

Why are you so nervous around this person? You don't even know them.

"Uh… yeah," you stop for a moment, the following words thick on your tongue, and they blink at you, ever so patient. It's weird. They're weird. That must be why you're acting like this. "Go straight 'til you see a busted-up lamppost, then go right… and go straight again until you see it. It's huge, you can't miss it." You glance in the direction of the restaurant.

They nod at you, following your line of sight, "Thank you! I've asked… like three other people," they expel a half-amused and half-exasperated laugh, a grin plastered onto their delicate features.

You stare for a moment, then splutter as they're about to go, "Wait-- uh," you start, "What's your name?"

They squint at you, "Who's askin'?" They lean closer, moving the papers they hold closer to their chest. Your lips part, and you feel your eyebrows shoot up, the shock and panic seeping into your mind quickly. They let out an airy laugh, shaking their head with closed eyes and a hand clasped over their mouth. "I'm just playing." They reassure, softening their voice. "I'm Vivian."

"Hi, Vivian."

[mushroommanchanterelle]

I got tagged by my good friend @goodluckclove for an OC interaction game! Below, I'm going to describe a day spent between Magnus Experah and Scott Skylark Kaufner at the Bay Harbor Institute for Magical Sciences. Scott is from their series Songbird Elegies! I'm gonna tag @korblez, @daisywalletchains, and anyone else who wants to play!

Read below for more ^u^

Scott Skylark Kaufner is a 31 year old human birthright from the Bluerose Refuge Hub, a witch town on the coast of Oregon. He is intersex, born with Kleinfelters Syndrome, and chose to undergo a masculine puberty and identify as a man. Scott is Greek-Romanian and I think German on his dad's side? I haven't established that yet. But he's a shorty at 5"5, with long and wild black hair and large, dark blue eyes. He identifies as a man, but prefers to dress in loose dresses in fun colors and soft materials. No shoes.

Scott is a bipolar variant birthright, which means he once had the ability to reflect his emotions onto those around him. But after travelling for years to find Eddie, he used his powers so often to get through social situations that they were infected, forcing him to inadvertently control the intentions of anyone that made eye contact or extended physical contact with him. Usually this ended with the person wanting to sleep with him. As a sex-repulsed asexual, this resulted in a rough few years for Scott. The fact that he was unable to see human faces due to the torture of the Eldritch horror trying to possess him did not help.

At his best Scott is friendly and talkative, though he tired quickly socially - as much as he tries to hide that fact. He loves the ones closest to him deeply and passionately and he has a tendency to get weird and overdramatic about it. There is an undercurrent of some manic intensity to him that most choose not to bring up and he doesn't seem to notice.

He's an obsessive piano player since infancy that can't read music but can learn anything by ear if you give him time. He also has perfect pitch but pointing that out embarrasses him. Scott loves the library and thinks that librarians, service workers, and anyone in the medical field are the most important members of society. Especially librarians. He loves reading books of Greek mythology but has a different relationship to them since his upbringing in magic causes him to think most mythological/supernatural things could maybe be true. He also loves a good snack and he's not great with technology but he's really good with Excel. Magnus Experah is an agender Petraedict, a species that resembles a cross between a monkey and a cat. They have large, mossy green eyes, mostly taken up by iris, with a rounded pupil in the center, with a light complexion. White markings wind up and down their skin, covered with a thin, near invisible, layer of soft fluff. They stand at an average height of 5 feet 7 inches, with a tail two feet long ending in a fluffy mass of fur the same color as their copper hair. They wear a set of smart, small spectacles that sit on the bridge of their flat, feline nose, covering the small spattering of white freckles that dot their cheeks. Magnus is a stern scholar, often stoic even amongst their closest friends. They prefer to be called by their student title of Honorable, the Bay Harbor equivalent of a Doctorate student. They struggle with tone and inflection, often coming across far more flat than they intend to be, and they find it difficult to discern tone in voice as well. They prefer to dress sharply, in suits of autumnal colors, and try to appear professional, as if they've already been approved for their dream job at the Magus Council. When they aren't studying, Magnus enjoys walking along the coastline, watching the ships sift through the ever present fog along the sea. They're partial to reading, as well, spending much of their time in the Institute's library, or in their study at home. They're fond of music, as well, though they prefer instruments to singing, and they like their music played softly. Magnus has a condition known as PNES, or psychogenic non-epileptic seizures, and as such is usually accompanied by at least one of their friends in the event of a seizure. Unfortunately, part of the process of seizing means they end up dumping all of their radioactive magic into their surroundings, warping and twisting them into something horrific. As such, they take great pains to avoid situations where there might be an abundance of noise, crowds, or yelling. They also tend to avoid conflict. They are quiet, a bit high strung, and prefer to be a wallflower.

That was a lot of fun c: Thanks for the tag!!

[raythegayaway]

ROMAN MILLER

Roman Miller is from San Diego (adopted) and was born on December 2nd, 2005 (17). (nsfw and sfw info below)

Shaggy long black hair that's somehow always slightly greasy. He has dark brown eyes that look black if he isn't in direct sun. His round cheeks are littered with light freckles. The bridge of his nose is wide and the tip is slightly upturned. His eyebrows are on the thinner side but are very full. His lips aren't thin but aren't big, more in the middle. His eyes look slightly bigger because of the black glasses that rest of his face. He is pretty pale, due to being inside all day. He is on the skinnier side, but mostly wears baggy clothes. He also has terrible posture. He sometimes paints his nails, but he isn't very good. He has mild acne, but tries to take care of himself. His ears are pierced but he only really wears studs. Any other piercings he has are fake (because he's too scared to get actually pierced). He is bisexual and goes by he/him pronouns. He is pretty shy and is an introvert. He would rather have online friends rather than irl friends. Because of this, he is a rather big minecraft streamer! He has many streamer friends and a large community on Twitch. Roman was adopted at birth and got bullied because of it in school. He is also a victim of racial based bullying. The bullying got so bad he was homeschooled for a year and ultimately just had to switch schools. His uncle was not happy with his adoption because of his race and was r@ped by him when he was around 10 years old. This act of violence was fueled by the anger of him not being white and he felt he couldn't do anything about it because his uncle is a police officer. However, when he told his mother a year later, she cut off all contact with her brother and reported him to the department. His uncle got fired but never put in prison. It was at his new school that he would meet his now girlfriend. 

NSFW

[Romans dick is 4” when soft and 5” hard. it slightly curves to the right. Shaft is about #EEA274 and tip is #EC8564. He tries his best to do as much aftercare as he can but he tends to be very sluggish after. Usually Mae doesn't mind cleaning them up though. His favorite body part of Mae would be her face or her boobs. He especially likes when she rides him and he can see both! When he cums, he either cums on Mae’s face or in a condom. Doesn't really like to cum in her mouth though, makes him feel gross. When he cums, he cries and his eyes roll back. His dirty secret is that he jacks off while he and Mae are calling. She usually knows and most likely helps him get off. He is not experienced whatsoever. He is a complete virgin and even with porn, he has no idea what he's doing. Literally nothing that Mae does DOESN'T fluster him. His favorite position, as earlier mentioned, is when Mae rides him. He basically likes every position when he's on top though. He is pretty serious during sex. With his abuse, he doesn't take intimacy lightly. He has a happy trail from his belly button to his pubes basically. He shaves his balls, but he has a little patch right about the top of the base. He masterbates quite often, but half the time it's with Mae’s help. He has a huge praise kink, but sometimes he's into degradation too. He's also into edging (receiving) and pegging. He doesn't really like the risk of getting caught so he tends to take it into his bedroom. He wouldn't ever degrade or hurt Mae in any way.  He loves receiving oral! He doesn't give much, mostly at Mae’s request. His stamina is surprisingly good. He can probably go around 3-4 rounds (depends though). He likes to use toys and owns multiple vibrators and dildos. He doesn't really tease that much, he's usually the victim of any teasing instead. Sometimes he wears cat ears. He gets pretty tired afterwards, but does not fall asleep until he and Mae are comfortable. It took him a while to go all the way because of his abuse, but he came around!]

[sweet-villain]

A Treat~ B.H 

Anonymous asked:

omg do a billy hargrove fic where the reader have a big crush on him and always baked him cookies or cake or just homemade stuff where she give him at the cafeteria for lunch but billy got annoyed, angry and snapped at the reader saying that she’s too “clingy” and they’re not in the same social status and mean stuff wtvr.

reader then stop bothering billy and stop giving him cookies. he thought he was fine and finally free from reader but then when he see reader giving cookies to eddie/steve he gets jealous and asking reader why she stop giving him the cookies. PLS MAKE IT ANGST I NEED MORE ANGST BILLY FIC BUT HAPPY ENDING PLEASE IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE THEM DATING JUST THEM BEING FRIENDS IS FINE 😭😭😭

THANK YOU AND SORRY FOR THE LONG REQUEST

m-rae23~ palomam18~eddiesprincess86~gloomybrieyxb ~hqtetsurou

Author's Note : Long requests or not lovely, I will write it and thank you for requesting this &lt;3

Baking treats, mainly cookies was one of your favorite things to do. It was sort of a hobby, but your most favorite part was seeing the faces of those who you gave treats to and their reactions. Your parents always called you their " little baker" and your dream was to own your bakery one day.

The biggest surprise of them all was when you brought the cookies to the pool, offering them to the kids there and the mom's if they wanted to.

Billy who was on duty sitting the life guard chair brought his sunglasses down on the bridge of his nose as his eyebrows scrunched together as his curiosity got the best of him seeing a big crowd surrounded in the corner.

He stepped off the life guard chair making his way around the pool towards the crowd bringing his whistle up to his mouth.

Once everyone heard the blow of the whistle, they all got quiet and you did too holding the big box of cookies that you had made this morning. The crowd moved away and your eyes fall onto Billy. He makes his way through the crowd stepping in front of you.

" I had a feeling it was you" Billy smirks eyeing the box of fresh cookies. The smell hit his nose and his mouth began to water at the sight. He has never tasted one of your cookies or anything you have baked.

He always saw you bringing every day a fresh batch of something you baked. He didn't know what it was about you that pulled him in, he heard from Tommy H how the sweet sugary treats made everyone fall to their knees for you.

" She just want to make everyone fat" Tommy would say to Billy.

You can't help but watch as Billy chewed on the gum in his mouth, he smelled of chlorine and there was one strand of curl that laid perfectly against his forehead and his eyes were hiding behind sunglasses that he always wore to the pool. The whistle is hanging around his neck and he is in those red shorts that always catches everyone's attention, especial yours.

Billy's gaze dropped down the box of cookies that you held in your hands noticing there is a few left. He made a tsk with his mouth.

" You know there is no eating by the pool" He says, but he bites his bottom lip and you hear his stomach grumble. The edges of your lips tug up knowing he wants to try one.

" You can make an exception this one time, Hargrove" his hand reaches out to take his sunglasses off and his gaze is on you now. Those blue iris's lock with your eyes making your breath hitch. He was so pretty, up close like this. You can see the freckles dancing on his nose and a little on his cheeks.

" Go on" you motion towards the cookies, " They aren't going to last long if you don't take one. They will be gone before you know it"

Your eyes lock on his lips watching as his tongue peeks out as he licks his bottom lip. Your mouth is a gap a little wanting to feel his lips against yours.

You watched as his hand reaches out to take one cookie from the box you hold out to him. He eyes the gooey goodness, the chocolate chips that are begging him to eat them along with the cookie.

" Just this once, princess" he says. Once Billy takes a bite of the cookie, he closes his eyes and moans out. It's really good and he chews it with happiness as a smile appears on his lips. A bit of chocolate is left on the corner of his mouth begging you to reach out and whip it off.

Once he finishes the cookie, his eyes flash open.

" You got a little something" you motion with your finger towards your own face at the corner of your lips. Billy uses his hand and whips his lips but he doesn't get it off.

" Still there" you tell him. You rolled your eyes deciding to make a bold move and do it. Billy watches as you take your finger inching towards his face and wiping the corner of his mouth and his eyes grow wide as saucers as you take it into your mouth, sucking it off.

" Taste even better" you flirted, a smirk appears on your face. Billy's heart flutters at the action and he's in gap. But the rest of the people around are watching the two of you, the cougars are glaring at you and the kids are in shocked.

" anyone want more?" you ask, breaking eye contact with Billy. His eyes dropped down to your legs seeing you for the first time in a new light. You wore a red bikini matching to the color of his trunks, he smirked as he noticed. Did you do this on purpose? Did you want to catch his attention. His eyes lingered on your chest and eyes going wide when he noticed the little jump you made.

Your eyes went back to him seeing he still was standing there, " I'll see you in school" you winked as you made your way back to your lounge chair.

-

It's been week after week that you brought cookies to school and as always you save one for Billy leaving the cookie in his locker. You knew his combination and had it always wrapped up in a napkin. He knew it was you and always hide it among the things he had in his locker. He didn't want the others to see what a sweet tooth he had and especially receiving cookies from you.

Carol and her group of friends would always tell him how trashy your cookies where and how much you wanted attention because of them. Tommy even at one point tripped you during the hallway through classes having the cookies flying on the ground.

You didn't even get a chance to clean it up as tears streamed down your cheeks. But Steve Harrington saw what happened and rushed after you to check on you. He sees you around school and sees the way passing your treats out made everyone happy. Even, he had one.

" Y/N! wait!" you stopped in your tracks hearing a familiar voice, looking over your shoulder at Steve, to your surprise has caught up to you. He put his hands on his knees as he panted.

" Jesus, you run fast" you shrugged, wiping your tears away.

"I don't have any treats for you today, Harrington" you tell him, looking down at the ground and kicking your foot of an imaginary rock instead of looking at him. Steve shot up and placed a hand on your shoulder, worry crosses his face.

" Hey, I'm not chasing you for any treats. I just wanna make sure your okay" your eyes shot up to meet his. Your eyebrows scrunch up together in confusion.

" I never imagined King Steve would run after a girl like me" you giggled. He rolled his eyes playfully.

" You seem nice, and I see the way your treats make people happy in this dreadful town.

You nod, " It keeps me busy too even after studying, I just like to bake, you know? It's not a bad thing.." he nods.

" Ignore Tommy, he's just jealous of your baking skills and that people like you"

" yeah, because of my treats" you shrugged, a frown replaces the thin line of your lips.

" Well, I'm Steve Harrington and consider us friends, that's if you want?" he opens his arms up as if you hug him, you are friends. That's what you do.

Since then Steve has became your best friend and always looked out for you.

-

The bell rang and you packed your backpack with your notebook and textbook and smiled wide because it was lunch time. You were going to do something different today, you were going to give Billy the cooke he craves so much every day.

You weren't going to feel ashamed.

" What's got you all smily about?" Steve asks walking with you to the lockers. You had your box full of fresh cookies in there waiting to take them with you to lunch.

" I'm going to give a special cookie to someone special" you tell him. Steve scrunches up his eyebrows together thinking of who it might be but puts a hand on his heart.

" It's not me?" he gasped stopping in his tracks. You laughed, shoving his shoulder. " You are special, Stevie but you're my friend. That kind of special. This is different special"

Steve smirks as he realizes what you mean by that now.

" Oh this is a crush kinda special. Got it" he nods leaning against your locker with his shoulder as he crosses his arms watching as you put your books into the locker and take out the box of fresh cookies.

Steve can already smell them making his mouth water. The first cookie would always go to Steve, once you open the box and watch as Steve took one, closing his eyes.

" I will never get over how good these are. You're baking skills is my favorite thing ever" your eyes lock with blue eyes across the hallway as he was walking with Carol, Tommy and some others.

He nods at you then his eyes drop to the box in your hands as his tongue runs over his lip but then his eyes drop onto the back of Steve, he rolls his eyes.

You weren't even looking to see Steve was trying to get another cookie for himself when you slap his hand away, " Not for you. You had yours!"

Billy smirked at that as he walked past you and Steve. Steve had noticed the look on your face when you looked back at Billy watching him say something to Tommy, looking over his shoulder catching your eye.

" Absolutely not" Steve says bringing your attention back to him. " What?" your eyebrows scrunched up together in confusion on what he was talking about.

" There is no way you like Hargrove" you bite down your bottom lip as you stared down at the box of cookies in your hands.

" Y/N! He's such an asshole"you shrugged, " I can't help it Stevie plus he likes my cookies. That mean something" Steve roll his eyes as the two of you walked to the cafeteria.

The loud sounds of students sitting at the lunch table catch your attention when your face beams knowing that the cookies would be gone by the end of lunch.

You got up on one of the tables.

" Hey!" all the chatter seems to die down as all eyes fall on you. Every time you did this, it made you want to crawl into a hole. Steve stood by the table watching in amusement as usual with his hands in his pockets. " Who wants a cookie?" loud chatter filled the lunch room as they all scrambled from their seats.

You held the box to your hands, taking one cookie out as your eyes found Billy sitting at one of the tables. He was too busy chatting with someone to notice that you were looking at him. You left the rest of the box on the table leaving it behind as you hopped off the white table next to Steve.

" Don't do it" he knows exactly what you were going to do but doesn't stop you anymore than those words. Your feet picked up the pace as you headed towards Billy's table. They haven't noticed that you were standing there until you clear your throat.

" What do you want freak show?" Tommy asks. Carol looks you up and down, giggles and says something to her friend besides her as they giggle.

" I brought a cookie, for you Billy. I know how much you love them" Billy wasn't even looking at you, but he was looking at the table in front of him staying silent. Then the cookie appears in front of his face on a piece of napkin. He notices how good it look and gulps. He doesn't dare to make eye contact with you.

" Billy doesn't even like cookies, who knows what you used to make it, who knows who's hands on it? Why would Billy want your cookie?" Tommy continued, " Don't you have better things to do, freak?"

You looked down at the ground, feeling your heart dig a knife in it. You thought Billy liked you and your cookies, that's why you would bring him one. You thought he liked you like you liked him.

" Billy.." you called out to him. But he shot out of his seat, his eyes holding anger in them as he takes the cookie that was in front of him and throws it.

" I don't want your stupid cookie, you don't even belong here Y/N. No one like you belongs here. Go run off to Harrington or better yet run off to mommy and daddy, sprinkle them with your cookies. You need to grow up Y/N."

Tears filled your eyes as you listen to him. A hand tugs on your wrist pulling you away from Billy as you stood behind Steve who stared daggers at Billy.

" Oh look it's Harrington coming to save his little baby, can't even fight your own battles. That's sad princess" Billy spatted as you crouched behind Steve, sniffling.

" Are you crying?" Carol got up from her seat as she eyes you, crouching a bit to see you. " She's crying! What a baby" you looked away from her. " I bet you're a virgin too, Y/N. Aren't you?" you glared at her.

" I'm not a virgin" you mumble.

" Oh so you're bagging Harrington then?" Tommy asks as he snickers at Steve. " Big old King Steve? How's she treating you? Her pussy is good as her cookies?" Steve growled but before he can do anything, he stumbled back grabbing his eye as he stared up at you in shock.

" You leave Steve out of this" you spitted at him, feeling your fist throbbing and feeling proud of yourself. You shot daggers at Billy who watched, but his eyes holds amusement and he wants to smile.

" Fuck you, Hargrove" he licks his lips. " When and where? Maybe I can fuck the freak out of you? I can show you a batter time than Harrington"

" Don't cream your pants, Hargrove. Stay away from her" Steve grabs your wrist as he pulls you away but before he does, you pointed a finger at Billy.

" You're a lost cause Hargrove, to think you were different. You're all the same, having your dick for your mind" you spatted in his face. The spit lands in his face as he closes his eyes clenching his jaw and when he opened to bark something at you, you already were walking away throwing your middle finger up at him.

-

There was a tap on your window that catches your attention from where you were sitting on your bed working on homework. You scoffed at who was at the window seeing the golden curls and the blue eyes of Billy Hargrove.

You stood up from the bed closing the window with your curtain.

" Come on princess, I wanna apologize" he says. Apologize isn't something that Billy does. You stop in your tracks hearing that and turn around opening the curtains seeing his desperate blue eyes staring back at you.

" I'll wait all night here if I have to" he says. You groaned, opening your window and side stepping to let him in. He crawls through your window as he looks around your room.

" how did you know I lived here?" he eyes the Metallica poster on your wall then looks at you. " Mrs. Wheeler" he says. You roll your eyes, of course he would ask her. You brought her a batch of cupcakes for Holly's birthday that she was planning. You didn't particularly like her as you saw her starting at Billy at the pool many times. She had a family, a husband and she spends her time ogling her eyes at Billy.

" Figures" you mutter, crossing your arms across your chest as you waited for the so called apology. His eyes roamed your body noticing the pjs set that you were wearing, mainly lingering his eyes on your legs. He loved how your legs looked in when you wore skirts and shorts to school.

" Listen" he starts to say rubbing the back of his neck, " back at lunch, that shouldn't of happen. I thought you'd leave a cookie in my locker like you always would"

You shrugged, " I wanted to do something different."

" Well it was stupid" he says. You blinked your eyes a couple of time placing your hands on your hips, " Excuse me? It was not stupid, I wanted to see your reaction when I gave it to you."

"Leaving at my locker was much better"

" Get out" you tell him. His eyes got wide hearing the venom behind your tone. " I don't want your stupid apology, Hargrove. I'm not interested."

" Why do you leave cookies for me? " his question leaves you off guard. Your lips go into a thin line, " Is it because you like me?" he smirks as he places a hand on his chest.

" Do you have a crush on me? Little sweet tooth likes a real man for once?"

" Get" your hands shove at his chest, " out" you shove him again. He can see the anger and hurt in your eyes. His face softens for a moment as he grasp your wrist and pulling it to his chest. " I'm sorry" he says in a whisper. The words feeling sour in his mouth as he looks away from you.

" not good enough" you say. He scoffs, " what do you expect from me, princess? I'm not going to get on knees and beg to ask you for cookies. You got it all wrong" he slips out your window.

" Billy Hargrove doesn't do nice things, you keep dreaming about it" he uses the tree to get down and you watch as he races towards his Camaro. You shut the window with a scoff.

You didn't want anything to do with him.

-

When you said you didn't want anything to do with him, you meant it but it all changed when you watched him stumble out of his house after dropping off Max, his step sister who rushes inside.

Billy looks at her as she passes, he was about to say something to her when she shuts the door, slamming it. You can hear shouting inside and you watch was Billy takes out a cigarette in his mouth and lights it up.

He feels eyes on him and his gaze turns to you. That's when you see the bruises on his face making you gasp. He walks up to your car throwing the passenger car door open as he slips in.

" Drive" he says. Your hands are on the wheel as you watch him take puffs from his cigarette.

" Are you deaf or something? Drive" he says. You are still watching him as he smokes when he turns his head to look at you, " please."

You began to drive off at his pleading not missing the fact that his eyes are glossy. He doesn't look like the Billy you know at the pool or at school. He looks like a lost puppy.

You two end up at Lover's Lake where you parked the car and took the keys out waiting for him to talk.

" I didn't know you were dropping off Maxine, I would of called" he says after while. " Billy" you call out his name and he hesitates looking at you. Your hand reaches out to cup his chin in your hand bringing his head to look at you and that's when you see the tears running down his cheeks, the busted lip and the bruises on cheeks.

You know exactly what those bruises are and you don't question him about it. You continue to look at him and he drops his head into your hand, bringing your palm to lay a kiss there.

" I'm sorry.." he says, releasing your hand. You reach into your pocket and take out a cookie that is in a small sealed bag and it makes him laugh as he sees it.

" Do you always carry one with you?" you nod, shrugging. " In case I get hungry or one of the kids do." You nudge his shoulder letting him know to take it.

He eyes you for a moment before his hand grasps the bag in his hand and he opens it taking it out. The cookie is still soft but no longer warm and he takes a bite.

It's like the first time he took a bite of the cookie you gave him, he throws his head back with a moan. You two sit in silence as he finishes it before throwing the bag out the window not really caring about it.

" You know..." he started to say, shifting in his seat, " I'm not good with these things" he motions with his hands, " I know I'm an asshole.." he licks his lips as he leans back into the seat, " but you and you're cookies make things better. I don't know how to explain it.." he finishes but closes his eyes fighting a battle in his mind. He is scared to tell you his feelings.

" The reason I left cookies in your locker room is because deep down I felt like you like me, the way I like you. I wanted your attention and then when you start to eat my cookies. It was the only way I had your attention" Billy is listening as you talk, feeling his heart speed faster.

" We're in different social statues in school, I'm not popular. I mean I listen to heavy metal, I bake cookies, everyone likes me and I'm friends with Steve Harrington" Billy groans at the mention of Steve.

" Leave Harrington for another conversation, princess" he says.

" Why? You're jealous of him or something?" Billy laughs, his shoulder shaking. " Why would I?"

" Because I'm part of his life and I'm not in yours. He gets to hang around me and you only get cookies from me. You want to be in my presence. You like me, Billy Hargrove"

He is silent but he knows that's true on what you said. He is jealous of Steve because Steve gets to see you, be friends with you and be around you as much as he likes.

" It's okay, Billy" he turns his head to look at you watching as your eyes shine back at him and he can't help it but lean over placing his lips on yours. He groans into the kiss when he feels your finger tips brushing his cheek but he doesn't care about the pain. He cares that he has you close.

Billy doesn't want to let you go and he doesn't think he will.

[masonmiamor]

Unexpected Results - - Mason Mount x Reader.

summary: always wanting what best for him, you try to give some words of encouragement to Mason, who’s not having a season as he expected…

“Mase I love you, trust me I do but… can we please change the TV to something else,” you pleaded, already tired of watching the same highlights from the match earlier today. Typical Mason always wanting to see what he could improve on.

He sighed and replied back looking at you with tired eyes, your heart sinking a bit, “Okay okay, I will let me just finish the video and we can watch something else”. One thing you hated was Mason bringing himself down, it was a bad habit he’d created since little. Either him or someone judging his every move on the pitch.

You casually stood up and turned the TV off, “I don’t want to see that anymore my love, look at you! I know it’s been a bad start of the season but it’s not just you. You’re hurting yourself more than you need to,” you replied seeing him sit up and hang his head low.

“I know Y/n, I just don’t know why I'm not seeing results I've been working hard for at training. I do it everyday for almost a week straight just to perform badly? I know I'm better than that,” he whispered, “I don’t know what to do,” he croaked.

All the built up frustration, anxiety and disappointment go the best of him causing him to break down. You sat next to him, sliding your hand in a comforting way down his back, seeing him relax a bit to your touch. “There’s not much you can do, Mase, I hate to say it. The only one who’s hurting you, is yourself.”

“We all have moments where we’re weak but it doesn’t mean we’re failures. You’ve won two years straight POTY, the champions league, super cup and even a club world cup! Azpi even said it’s not one single person, it’s a whole team,” you continued.

his brown glossy eyes stared back at you. He leaned over and grabbed your legs, practically dragging you to sit down on his lap. You yelped but understood he just wanted to be close to you. He dug his head into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

“I feel like I'm letting everyone down…” he admits.

“I love you Mason, but don’t do this to yourself. Your feelings about yourself aren't what everyone else feels. You’re not letting me down or anyone, I just want you to realize how talented you are, how proud I am of you…” you said hearing him chuckle.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with losing every now and then, because you learn from those mistakes,” he looked straight into your eyes, your heart racing a bit. You wiped away the small tears from his cheeks, placing small kisses on the bridge of his nose, over his freckles, and finally forehead letting your lips linger on there for a while.

He bummed in pleasure, holding you tighter than before. “My biggest fan,” he teased. You smiled, rubbing your thumb over his left cheek down to his jaw. “We’ll see about that, Summer is on the chart, she has her own kit and everything,” you replied.

“You’re mine, only mine Y/n. I love you so much darling,” he kissed you, holding your hips. You blushed at his words but kissed back.

“How about we make some dinner? I’ve been in the mood for chicken alfredo with steak!” you said already picturing the delicious dish. He picked you up, ignoring your pleads to put you down when he finally sat you on the counter. His veiny hands locking you in place, he placed a couple kisses to your exposed neck, dragging them below your ear.

“Sounds like a great idea…”

You lit up the room with small candles, dimming the lights. He took a picture of the set up, the wine glasses, plates with food, and roses on the middle of the table he gifted you earlier this week. The two of you enjoyed the meal even going for seconds before deciding what would be for dessert.

You heated up some cookies from the freezer and joined him with a cup of tea. He laid on your chest, slowly falling asleep as the movie played. You played with his hair drawing small shapes on his back. “Goodnight Mason.”

[hhjs]

love or lack thereof.

pairing  — felix x reader

genre / trope  — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k 

warnings  — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences. 

note  — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him. 

 “I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know. 

“Did he make you laugh?” 

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say, 

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually. 

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.”  You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

[daintyduck99]

I was talking to @innytoes about a Stranger Things/Julie and the Phantoms Crossover AU, and this is what we came up with:

Reggie disappears after band practice one Friday night. No one notices until he doesn't come to school on Monday, although his friends are a little worried that they haven't seen him since, and he hasn't called. They're hesitant to call the Peters residence, but they finally swing by, only for his mom to tell them he never came home.

Reggie staying away from his parents' house isn't uncommon. Normally, he'd stay with one of his friends, though. He would never just up and leave like that. Julie, Luke, Alex, and Bobby are all worried about him. Ray calls the police, but they haven't heard anything.

Alex and Luke find Willie hunkered behind the diner where Luke works the weekend Reggie disappeared (although they don't know it yet), seemingly starved and mute and having escaped from some sort of hospital where he was horribly treated and forced to shave his head (he doesn't have cancer, as he shakes his head no when Luke tactfully blurts the question). Willie isn't even his name, but he has what looks like two L's tattooed on his wrist, or maybe an 11, but Luke's already started calling him Willie, and he doesn't seem to mind, so Alex lets it go with a weary "okay."

They usher him into the back and get him some food, but they aren't there for long before some lady who's way too overdressed arrives and gives Alex bad vibes (which Luke quickly realizes are real because she has a GUN so they bolt and make a split second decision to hide Willie in the studio).

Caleb is still the Big Bad Evil Guy and he's trying to get Willie back, only here he's a cruel scientist who makes Willie call him Papa, which is probably creepier than it already sounds. He's in charge of the lab at the edge of town. He keeps sending agents after Willie.

Alex and Willie have a grand feast of Hot Dogs and Eggos in the loft since he didn't really have time to eat at the diner, having introduced her to Julie, to whom Luke is currently explaining the situation. Cue Willie nick-naming Alex Hot Dog. Alex decides to call him Eggo in retaliation (is this flirting? he's pretty sure this is flirting).

The police start searching the woods and all around town for Reggie, but hey, it's Hawkins. Either he'll turn up, or he ditched town, it happens all the time. The worst thing that ever happened in Hawkins was when old Ernie Miller, senile and delirious, stumbled into the lake and drowned, and that was decades ago. The 90's are a fairly peaceful time, especially in this sleepy little town.

However, as days go by and he doesn't turn up and government bigwigs get involved, the police become more grim. Either the kid was mixed up in something bad, or he's dead.

Bobby's convinced that Reggie's dead, and he can't handle the grief, or the way that the rest of their friends insist that he's still alive. He calls his grandma and boards a plane for LA as soon as they announce that they've found a body in the quarry. He and Luke get into a horrible argument, and they aren't speaking when Bobby goes.

However, he still answers their questions when they call him needing his expertise. It helps if it's Alex and he tells Bobby that he needs to know how to build a sensory deprivation tank so he can medicate, okay, it's not a sex thing, would would you even ask that Bobby.

Reggie's parents are quick to identify the body, but Luke can't let it go. He wrestles his way into the morgue--his mom is a cop, she's connected to the case, it's fine--and his heart falls out of his body. Something fishy is going on, because that's not his best friend. His best friend has a freckle right above his lip that he definitely doesn't think about too much, and they got the pattern of the freckles on his cheeks wrong. His eyebrows are neater than that. His nose has a little divot in the bridge from where he used to wear glasses as a kid.

That's not Reggie. He lies to his mom, though, that seeing the body gave him peace of mind. He rushes to tell their friends--sans Bobby, which also hurts to think about--but the others believe him. Something feels off to them, too. Plus, they found Willie. Who's to say that Reggie's not stuck at whatever hospital he came from? Alex won't let Luke push Willie into talking, though.

Meanwhile, Reggie’s having a horrible time. All he'd wanted to do was feed the stray dog that's been turning up by the shed out behind his parent's house. Then another dog turned up, all feral and snarling and probably riddled with rabies, only the other dog somehow hurtled him into this hellish dimension and it probably wasn't a dog at all, unless it was a hellhound.

Thankfully, Reggie's good at hiding, at not making a sound and at making himself small, and this dimension looks a lot like his town, only without the people, and it's crawling with a bunch of creepy vines and spores and monsters. He makes it back to the Molina's studio and usually hides in the loft. Either the monster doesn't like the loud music that always echoes in there, presumably from the other side, or it's too lazy to climb ladders. He's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, as his Nana would say.

He really, really misses his friends, though. He plays the piano sometimes, when they play, assuming they won't notice or hear it--he's surprised it even makes noise on this side--but he scares them, and they--assume he's a ghost? Rude. Carlos reassures them that Reggie's not a ghost, bless the little dude. Then letters appear on the piano, taped and written in Julie's elegant hand. It's the alphabet. He's able to send short messages to them after that, unless he's hiding.

Luke and Julie manage to find a mini portal into what Reggie has dubbed The Upside Down, and Julie, who's small enough to fit, crawls inside before Luke can suggest trying to enlarge it, because he really doesn't like the idea of her going alone. Oops?

Reggie sees her, and nearly runs to her, but then he sees the hellhound, and he's not about to endanger Julie when he's been surviving this shit for days, and he hears Luke calling for her on the other side. She'll be okay if he can distract the monster. He does so from the shadows, making just enough noise to let her get away before he has to barricade himself in the nearest building for a while.

Also, Ray finds out about Willie after a single day, if that. He's an agent of chaos with mind powers and a new love for waffles, and Ray knows that his kids did not eat two boxes of Eggos overnight. They end up having to tell Ray everything, and he's not about to let any of his kids get shot or eaten by hellhounds, Willie included. He considers telling Emily, but he knows that she and Luke have been butting heads, and ultimately decides not to, although it would be nice to have a police officer in the loop.

They try to keep it from Victoria, but she comes over in the middle of a monster attack and calmly deters the hellhound with a homemade flamethrower, which is how they discover that the monster is afraid of fire (and that they might have to change the name Reggie, what kind of hellhound is scared of fire? he pouts via minor chords).

She promptly freaks out after, but she keeps a cool head when it counts. She's able to keep a close eye on all of the kids during the day since she's the high school nurse. She starts carrying a lighter in her purse (the hairspray was already in there).

Eventually, Willie tells the others about the lab. He realizes that he created the gate during the incredibly stressful moment when he was escaping thanks to a look into Caleb's head, and with the ability boosting nature of the tank and encouragement from Alex, he manages to locate Reggie in the Upside Down (he's been forced to move more slowly and cautiously since Julie got away).

Victoria and Ray attempt to break into the lab before the kids can try it, but they get caught. They make a deal with Caleb: they'll tell him where Willie is if he lets them enter the gate and attempt to rescue Reggie. They lie with a kernel of truth, and they manage to get in and save Reggie (who's still where Willie had said he would be).

Meanwhile, Luke, Julie, Alex, and Willie have set a trap for the monster, and they fight it, wounding it with the trap. Willie disintegrates the monster (and the agents that managed to figure out the deception, so--he disintegrates all of the monsters besides Caleb, for now).

Everyone's reunited with Reggie, and he's introduced to Willie, but he can't help but be a little bummed, because Luke and Julie have always been a power couple, and Bobby--left? And now Alex has a cool boyfriend with superpowers, and he's still alone. Luke and Julie have to spell out that they're in love with him too (he could have died! he has to know!), and Julie also pieces together that he saved her.

Then everyone goes out to LA to show Bobby that Reggie's still alive and to tell him the whole story. He reconciles with Luke (and nearly smothers Reggie and maybe cries but no one talks about that). Ray considers moving them all out there to get away from Caleb, as much as he's going to miss the house where they made all of their memories as a family with Rose.

He has a new family to look out for.

[oswaldsleftbicep]

I wanna ask something this time :). If our men wouldn't have blue or purple hair colours or golden and red eyes, for example, what do you think their phenotyp would look like in our "normal world"?

Hope you don't mind me asking directly

Lots of love <3

what the boys would look like in our world

the way i r a n to write this lmao this is all just my opinion so if any of you have differing view points, i'd love to see them!! and don't worry about asking directly, i love talking with y'all, anon or otherwise <3 also i'm including kurt in this cuz i feel like it and it's not a romantic request :)

genre: general

cw: none?

Lucia

❧ he'd still be a ginger for sure, but a more realistic one; so his hair is more orangey copper than,, manic panic vampire red

❧ i feel like his eyes would still be blue as well, only not as saturated?? more like a greyish ice blue

❧ his eyebrows would be slightly lighter than his hair color, but he likes to make them darker with dye or brow pencil, he thinks it makes him look more tough sdnfk

❧ his eyelashes are also a lighter shade too :)

❧ freckles!! but not a whole lot, just a light dusting over the bridge of his nose and some on his cheeks and shoulders

Levy

❧ ok he was kinda tricky to decide for bc i wanted to try and make the brothers look at least a little related,, but they don't even look related in the game so let's go crazy

❧ alright hear me out on this one: light brown hair, like right in between normal brown hair and dirty blond hair

❧ and as for his eyes, i'm thinking hazel eyes with strong green highlights

❧ my reasoning for this combination is bc his canon hair and eyes are a pretty stark contrast, so normal light brown hair with really interesting green hazel eyes would have the same interesting contrast

❧ his eyebrows are naturally darker than his hair, and lucia is lowkey jealous of this

Mefy

❧ his hair is darker than his brothers', i'm thinking a solid dark brown, something to match his kinda dark vibe but normal enough for him to fit in

❧ but his eyes are gonna stay green, only it's a darker shade of green; however, like all eyes, they turn a lighter shade when light's shining on them

❧ my rationale for this combo is kinda wack but like, the darker hair with his eyes when there's little light make him look all dark and mysterious, but in the light he just looks pretty and unique

Oswald

❧ he's one of the more normal looking characters of the bunch, save for his red eyes

❧ so we're gonna keep his dark brown/black hair it always looked dark brown to me even tho ik it's black, we love it and it doesn't have to change

❧ his eyes tho gotta change, i'm thinking just brown eyes for him, it goes well with his hair, but the shade of his irises is like a bourbon color, very pretty and they stand out a bit like his red eyes

❧ thick eyebrows that match his hair color too

Kaim

❧ his canon hair and eyes are both purple right?? technically purple eyes are possible, but since they aren't common we're gonna change em

❧ so his hair is gonna be black, gotta fit that sebastian michaelis aesthetic

❧ the eyes were kinda hard to choose cuz black hair can go with any color eyes, but i'm gonna have to go for brown, but like a dark brown

❧ one of my friends has dark brown eyes that look black unless you shine a light directly on them and then they turn this really rich shade of brown, so i'm gonna say kaim has those kinda eyes too

Mikael

❧ ok white is a natural hair color, so really i could just leave all the angels be but that'd be boring

❧ i gotta go with platinum blond for him, it looks almost like bottle dyed platinum but it's completely natural and makes everyone who bleaches their hair jealous

❧ his eyebrows and eyelashes are the same amount of blond so those features are hardly noticeable on him

❧ he doesn't scream blue eyes to me, so i'm gonna have to say whiskey brown eyes for him, something light enough to match his hair but stark enough to match the effect his red eyes have

Ricardo

❧ his canon hair is just grey!! i cannot find a shade name for what i have in mind so i'm gonna describe it in a really niche, petty way

❧ ok so ya know when the popular girls dye their hair a lighter shade of blonde or brown and they also get highlights? and then they spend all summer in the sun and at the pool so the sun bleaches it more and the chlorine kinda ruins the color a bit? that's his hair, like a light ash blond that's slowly becoming a medium blond over time asjkfsk

❧ his eyebrows are a solid light brown tho, that's easy

❧ his eyes are the kind of brown that's written about in ya romance novels, like the main character never notices the color until they look deep into their love interest's eyes and realize that it's not just brown but it's got little flakes of gold and hints of green

Noel

❧ his hair looks the most naturally blond to me so hear me out on this one: light sandy blond; it's light enough to look white but dark enough to be a natural shade of blond

❧ also the ends of his hair are darker than the top of his head canonically so let's bring that over into the real world too

❧ his eyebrows are the shade of blond that the ends of his hair is

❧ his eyes are like a syrupy brown color, equal parts muted and saturated, it's really weird how he manages that, like his eye color is stark but it's not all shiny and bright

Lucas

❧ he's another one that looks pretty normal, his eyes are just a bit too golden to be natural

❧ so he's gonna stay a blondie, he's got honey blond hair yes i've been looking at hair dressing magazines

❧ his eyebrows are a darker shade of blond tho, maybe like dirty blond?

❧ he's got hazel eyes for sure, like a brown hazel that shines golden brown in the sunlight, it's giving apollo

Kurt

❧ strawberry blond babie, but as he gets older it'll probably grow into a light brown or darker dirty blond

❧ his eyebrows are just a touch more red than his hair is

❧ another one with hazel eyes only it's an even mix of brown and green, but there's a blue green ring around the edge of his iris

❧ he's totally got freckles all over his face, what a cutie

[bearseungmin]

can you give us a snippet of not so strayed??👀

004 not so strayed | ot8 miniseries

not so strayed... my lost boys! au for skz that's been in my head for nearly two years now and yet it's still not finished. I'm really hoping to have time to work on it before spooky season ends considering I have an entire other series (aka 003 the price of a bite | ot8 series) that is based around the same theme (except it's a fic per member instead of ot8 all together making you question your sanity). but, we will see!

see the WIP GAME that this ask refers to!

snippet of not so strayed: part one "figments of your imagination" below the cut!!!

His scent was thick like the smoke of a fire, the distant man passing by your form. By fate or karma, you took notice of him. His leather jacket swayed through the crowd like a drop of rain moving through rocks. Undetected, but impressionable.

Lights beamed and music blared, the crackles of the sparklers in people's hands giving an aura to the overwhelming pier. A concert played in the distance, the orange flickers of the flames presenting shadows along your skin.

You tried to move at his pace, to keep up with the mysterious man's figure. But just as you caught a glimpse of his side profile, the smirk telling that he knew he was being followed, he finally fell in between the cracks.

You halted just outside of the calmest store present, the long aisles of thick and thin booklets enough of a distraction from the stranger to make you move inside. Comics with colors bright and looming, your eyes sifted over each and every one until a gruesome sight caught your glance.

A large man with a distraught woman in his arms, blood dripping from the main artery in her neck. Her face was terrified, while he was satisfied.

"The ones who tread at night are more frightening than monsters in closets." A deep voice caught your ears, a guy at your side peering at the same comic.

Fluffy blonde hair pulled from his face by a red bandana, his skin was amply illuminating that you could count each and every freckle on his cheeks until they met at the bridge of his nose.

The first to offer you guidance since halting inside the desensitizing town, he blinked his welcome.

"Name's Felix, and you're new here."

"So I've heard and lived." His faint smile warmed you, blood rushing through every vein in light of the acquaintance just in time for his sight to dart away from you.

"We get new people often, but none with your tone."

"I'm sorry, have I already done something?" The angle in your voice was unveiling, the guy shifting from his heels to his toes as he lifted the comic with his index finger and thumb alone.

"Most people who come here aren't looking for a good place, but a good time." You watched his lips finish speaking before they motioned the words of the comic's title, 'Dark nights, Cold Bodies'. "You, on the other hand, seem so out of place. You didn't come here on purpose, did you?"

"Blown tire on the freeway. Happens to stop a trip, ya-know."

His eyes got wider with his nod, the pearled teeth between his lips admirable. Felix had said so little to you, but his attention still sat upon the comic in between his fingers.

"On me." His teeth went behind his smile, lips a pale pink as you stared for too long. "Might save you one day."

"Vampires are a figment of some very good storyteller's imagination." Your response sounded sarcastic.

"Then how do you explain the found burials of those that have risen. Broken coffins, long teeth, stake through the heart?"

"An odd last wish. Someone with a sense of humor knew what they wanted even after death."

His head tilted to the side with innocence, eyes casting sight of your face. "Clever."

"It would be smart to think that far ahead."

"I mean you."

—

© bearseungmin 2022. do not modify, repost, or translate in any way. please.