#sorry my summaries are mediocre I was in a rush

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[ferrstappen]

max, the wag (for the third time) l Max Verstappen x reader

a/n: i was in the middle of writing this when news of Danny coming back to the grid!!! omg I'm so happy of seeing RIC and listening to his radios and everything, it wasn't the same without him <3

also, about requests. Please keep sending them, I've LOVED all the reqs I've gotten but right now im getting ready for my bar exam in a couple of weeks so my time is super super limited, but I promise I'll get to most of them (bc imsorry there are some reqs that I really can't connect with) after the exam, it's one of the things I'm looking forward to <3 but for now this kind of mediocre story telling will have to do...

ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKE THIS INSTALLMENT! you can find part 1 and 2 on the master list <3

summary: the continuation of your favorite paddock couple.

Max arrived to the track by himself.

If he was being honest, it wasn’t on his plans to walk alone with the photographers, Red Bull marketing team snatching him for stuff right after he swapped his credential. Even from far away he was able to hear chants of fans and more media than usual. 

But you weren’t right there next to him. 

He knew it wasn’t your fault, Silverstone not being a track where he was usually welcomed with opened arms and he was aware of you not wanting to be too in the eye of photographers who didn’t make questions to you, but there still were different WAGs and outfits or whatever accounts tracking your every step, especially with the new wave of partners and sudden break ups and polemics. 

Still, the selfish part of him wanted you to enter the track with him, even if it was a few steps ahead or behind him, holding your hand and smiling as you complained about the amount of credentials you had to carry: the usual green VIP Paddock, Red Bull something. You’d think after all these years they’d know me, you’d say and he’d laugh.

On the other hand, you finished getting ready and called the front desk to get a taxi to get there, feeling a bit guilty of letting Max go on his own, especially when there were more eyes on the track with Brad Pitt being there and a lot of important people who’d want to talk with him all day. 

Texting Max to let him know you were already by the guests entrance waiting when you noticed some intense flashes getting near. You’d been around a time or two to know this wasn’t usual, maybe in Miami but not when you were on the abandoned back entrance, not very glamorous and low key. 

But you saw her…

Shakira, are you visiting Lewis?

Who are you cheering today?

Shakira, third Grand Prix of the year! 

Did you talk to Lewis before? Is he nervous?

Your eyes followed her, mouth opening when you followed her small frame, exuding class and sympathy, even Alexandra who was also making her entrance stopped to get a closer look of the Colombian bombshell. 

Of course, they didn’t ask her to show and get accredited, she just walked by with a radiant smile leaving paparazzi behind as she kept talking with the friend she came with. 

But wasn’t that a Haas credential?

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t important, because right then your brain made the connections and started dialing Max while nervously biting your polished nails. 

“Baby, everything okay? Are you already inside?” Max answered, but his words were quiet and rushed. 

“Yes, but you’re never going to believe…”

“I’m sorry we have a meeting, please don’t go to the paddock, go straight to the driver’s lounge, okay? Love you” 

He hung up and you wanted to pull your hair out, knowing he is the one and only person you wanted to share this information with, and you were also certain he was the only person who would truly appreciate the gossip and speculation about his fellow driver’s love life. 

Max was able to leave the meeting almost forty minutes later, getting outside for some air until he remembered your call and that you probably were bored to death on the lounge. He was turning around to go there when…

When he saw the one and only Shakira in all of her glory. 

He wasn’t starstruck or anything, being immune to celebrities and the imaginary pedestal where most people placed them, but this wasn’t about that, it was about the way she was supposedly hiding under a cap walking towards the Mercedes garage.

He covered his mouth and hastily made his way to you. 

You didn’t greet each other with the usual peck on the lips and short hug; his slightly widened blue eyes told you exactly what you needed to know as he opened the door to his small room. 

“Please tell me that you saw her!” You said as soon as he closed the door. 

“Yes, just now she was walking to Mercedes,” Max was whisper shouting as if someone would hear him and it was the highest of secrets. 

“Did you see Lewis?” You asked Max but he said no. “What if you try to ask Brad Pitt if he saw her and like if they’re friends… with Shakira?” This time both you and your boyfriend laughed at the idea.

"I did see Sainz trying to go unnoticed with a tall brunette,do you think she is the new girlfriend?" Max asked and you nodded.

"I'm pretty sure he cheated on Isa with her, and I am almost certain she was in the Paddock Club in Monaco during qualifying," Max whistled at the new information.

Now he kissed you, lips fitting perfectly against each other, but your eyes suddenly opened and separated from him. What? Why? What happened? Max was disconcerted. 

“Please don’t laugh at me because this is a serious idea…” You told Max who had your entire attention. “What if we write to Deuxmoi?”

“Deux what?”

“They have all the inside scoops  and sightings, even your name’s popped up once or twice,” Max’s eyebrows rose at the information. “We should write that Shakira was seen on the British Grand Prix and I am one hundred percent sure someone will have more information!” You proposed and Max chuckled.

“Schatz, I can just ask Lewis why she’s here,” Max told you before embracing you, his arms circled around your waist.

You rolled your eyes before resting your head on his chest, but suddenly it hit you, swiftly lifting your head and facing Max. 

“Then why haven’t you asked him yet?!”

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

As long as you're here.

Floyd x reader (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Summary: You and Floyd met when Floyd was still in brozone, but when the band separated so did you. That is until you were both captured by the mediocre artists of Veneer and velvet. Not that you care much though, your fine and healthy and your with your favorite person again.

Words: 1380

Warnings: angst, semi-cliffhanger if I plan to do a part 2

A/N: this is so rushed you guys, it's genuinely painful, but also it has most of the elements I wanted to include so if y'all would please be so kind as to like this if you enjoyed it that'd make my little heart so happy. In other words: stay golden and enjoy. Lemme know if y'all want a part 2!

✦✧✦

You groaned at your hurt vocal chords after going to another concert just that week. You wondered if you'd have a larynx of steel by the end of the month. You didn't have backstage tickets so you wandered a little ways away until you were far enough to cool off in the cool night air.

What an incredible concert, I mean you could've had more of the sensitive troll but hey! It still rocked your world. You took a few deep breaths to get rid of that post-concert buzz. You jolted to life when you heard a twig snap.

You heard the faint curses of a troll followed by a sad sigh. Your gaze Met the back of his pink haired head, and your heart dropped. You covered your mouth before a fangirl scream could fall out. You took a deep, deep breath before rising and looking at him.

He seemed startled when you spoke. “Hey… you okay there?” you said with as little excitement you could muster. However it still wasn't enough to make him think you weren't a fan.

Once he calmed down he turned away from you. “Hi. Uh…if you want an autograph just say so.” He mumbled, just clear enough for you to make out. He sat on a log, and soon enough you joined him.

“Autograph?” You whispered in return, surprised he'd assume such a thing. Then you realized he proba got that a lot more than he did comfort. “No, no, I don’t want an autograph, I'm genuine. Are you okay?” You placed a gentle, sweet hand on his shoulder.

He looked at you and it seemed like there was a switch in his whole attitude. From melancholy to downright depressed. He wiped his eyes before any tears could fall. “Sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s natural.” You sat next to him, looking into his eyes. “Talk to me, Floyd.”

Floyd’s eyes widened slightly at the use of his name and he seemed lost for a second. Should he talk to you? Probably not, but this is the most comfort he’s gotten in ages, so he just breaks.

He tells you everything, and in just a few hours you’re already wrapped around each other's fingers. Floyd leaning into your shoulder and you holding him tight. Letting his pain be heard. He sniffled hard and lifted his face, tears covering his poor cheeks and puffy red eyes.

You giggled at the sight, something about this whole thing was surreal. “You okay now?” you ask with a smile on your lips and in your voice. Floyd doesn’t respond verbally. Instead he just nods. Still leaning his head into your shoulder.

At some point he had grabbed onto your hand, desperate never to let go. Now he’s gently playing with your fingers. Waiting for you to tell him to stop. Which you wouldn’t.

He looked up into your eyes quickly. “Thank you for staying with me.” He whispered. You nodded your head and stroked his hand with your thumb. Then it dawned on you.

“I uh, I’m so sorry this was pretty forward of me if I’m honest, I haven’t even introduced myself.” You stood up and offered him your hand. You gently declare your name, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at how forward you had been with him. Maybe it was because you already felt close to him. Considering he was your favorite band member.

Floyd stared into your eyes and cleared his throat. His gaze flickered away from yours and you hesitated. Ready to take back your hand at any moment. Just then his hand met yours. A chill ran down your spine as his cold contrasted with your warmth.

Your eyes stare at your connected hands, and then onto his face. His eyes were large with friendliness, but overshadowed by exhaustion and uncertainty. “It’s okay. I don’t mind at all.” He would say. You nodded slightly. Then squeezed his hand.

“I should…I should go-”

“Yeah…yeah that’s probably for the best. I gotta get home.”

“Yeah yeah. I’ll let you do that.” You said awkwardly before turning on your heel and skulking off elsewhere where you’re needed.

Floyd chuckled slightly as he watched you go away, then he heard his name being called. Despite his initial disappointment he decided maybe as long as you were there it wouldn’t be so bad.

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Many years have passed since then.

You reminisce on an old photo of you and Floyd. It was directly after another concert, the last concert before he and his brothers disappeared off the face of the earth. You kept that photo, thinking one day you'd get to see Floyd again. However, considering your current situation it was unlikely.

Trapped, inside a purple diamond with nothing to hear except thoughts and teenage screaming laughter. You were tired of it, but not afraid. Velvet and Veneer were a duo of teenagers you hated with a burning passion. You were their test dummy, to see if they could steal the song of a troll. Which you wished was impossible.

Unfortunately, today would prove to be the effect of your situation.

Velvet’s nagging voice screams in your ears as she and her brother return for a spritz. The sound of another diamond being slammed into the table cause you to have a brain reboot. You looked up and saw Velvet more excited than ever.

She was singing multiple riffs over and over, it was annoying. which made you realize that she found another troll. One more musical than you. You immediately looked at the bottle beside you. It's color colliding with yours, making it incredibly difficult to see inside of it. You didn't dare speak until the cruel duo parted.

“Psst. Hey.” you whispered to the other bottle. Trying to see who it was. They didn't respond immediately so you kept prying. “Hey…fellow inmate. I come in peace.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood despite being devoid of much joy yourself. “Please? I could use some social interaction.”

Silence followed, as if you were alone all over again. Then you began thinking. No one is there, it's hopeless. You're alone and you're going to die alone. There's no need to pretend like one day you'll have a friend here because you never will. You need to just give up already-

Then, as if by chance, a quiet voice says your name. A familiar voice. A hand presses itself against the glass and the two of you make eye contact. “Is it really you?” he says, and then a pit drops in your stomach, but pure joy fills your skull.

You gasp and move closer to him. “Floyd? Yes! Yes, it's me!” you groan as you lean your cheek into the glass. “I'm so glad to see you, but what are you doing here!” You pulled your cheek away and crossed your arms. Your eyes gentle on his familiar exhaustion.

Floyd laughed nervously then frowned. He turned and leaned on the diamond casing and slid to the ground. You mimicked him and he quietly acknowledged this. “It all happened so fast that…I just don't want to talk about it.” He seemed deeply saddened, like his whole world was crumbling before him. It really made you stop and think.

“I get that. I got a little too curious and wound up here myself. Sucks huh?”

“How can you get too curious and get locked up for it?”

“I got curious about this place and I didn't realize the song would be sucked out of me for it! Give me a break!”

That made Floyd laugh, but then he shook his head. “We have to get out of here.” Floyd said, his arms wrapping around his knees.

“Good luck with that.” you huffed. “I've been here for ages and there's no exit in sight,” you admit, a frown on your lips. You tossed your head back into the purple shield and sighed softly. “At least I have you to spend eternity with.”

Floyd looked at you. “I bet it won't be eternity, but as long as we're together, I'm okay. We're okay.” he said as he relaxed into the glass. You nodded, sighing up into your enclosure.

“Yeah, we're okay. Together.”

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Eleven

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eleven: Convincing through Son

Summary: Charlie attempts to convince Cannibal Town to follow her into battle.

            Rosie lifted a megaphone and marched right outside to give Cannibal Town her announcement. She had Charlie and (Y/N) under her arms and was quite pleased to be bringing her guests around her territory. Alastor walked behind, pleased with how his plans were turning out.

            “Cannibals and cannibettes!” called Rosie. “Assemble in the square!” She looked at Charlie. “Now, darling, you know I would do anything, anything for my clients, but I can’t exactly command all of Cannibal Town to follow someone else into battle.”

            At least she’s respectful, thought (Y/N).

            “Now, don’t get me wrong, they love carnage and bloodshed, but to get this group in line, you got to win ‘em over.” She spoke through her megaphone again as they arrived at the square. “Settle in!” The crowd had gathered. “Settle in! Important meeting.”

            Charlie cringed. “But how do I—”

            “With sparkle! Razzmatazz!” declared Rosie, and (Y/N) decided they liked her even more now. “And that oh-so-appealing moxie of yours.”

            “Shouldn’t be a problem!” said Alastor. He grinned at Charlie. “It’s not like you’ve ever failed to inspire before.”

            “You can do it, Charlie,” said (Y/N) encouragingly as they walked onto the dais.

            Charlie groaned anxiously.

            “But fair warning, this group sticks together,” said Rosie. “So in order to convince any of them, you’ll have to convince all of them.”

            “Yikes,” said (Y/N).

            Rosie huffed. “And there’s one in particular—”

            “Ugh, Susan,” said Alastor, rolling his eyes.

            “Susan,” agreed Rosie. “Who’s a bit of an, uh…” She considered.

            “Ornery old bitch?” suggested Alastor cheerfully.

            “That!” said Rosie. She leaned down to Charlie. “She’s tough, but win her over and the rest will be easy as pie.”

            “You’ve got this,” said (Y/N), giving Charlie a thumbs-up.

            “Ready?” said Rosie.

            “I guess…” said Charlie.

            “Everyone, we have a very special, very royal guest this evening!” announced Rosie. “Please put your bloody hands together for Princess Charlie!”

            She waved awkwardly from the microphone.

            Instantly, a cranky voice rang out. “Boo! Bring Rosie back!” The crowd parted to reveal an old cannibal in furs waving a walking stick around.

            “Susan?” said (Y/N), looking at Alastor and Rosie.

            “Susan,” they said simultaneously.

            Charlie coughed and accidentally hit the microphone. The feedback squealed, and the crowd cringed.

            “Sorry! Uh, okay,” said Charlie, stumbling over her words. “Uh, my name’s Charlie, and—”

            “Boo!” heckled Susan.

            “Well, I run this hotel with my partn—”

            “Get off the stage you blue-blood bitch!”

            “—well, someone, and—”

            “Boo!”

            “Wait, let me start over.”

            “We don’t give a shit about some hotel.”

            “Angels are coming to kill us all, and we need help defending our realm.”

            “Leave before I eat those big-ass eyes of yours!”

            “So, we, uh, we need your help—”

            “Boo! Get off.”

            This really isn’t going well, thought (Y/N), wincing at how awkward the situation was.

            “With your assistance, we can make a stand for—” tried Charlie.

            “Where’s the showmanship?” sneered Susan.

            “I…I have a dream!” Charlie tried to sing.

            “Where all the finesse? Fucking mediocre.”

            “Fuck you! You old bitch!” Charlie snapped and gave Susan the finger.

            The crowd gasped.

            “Okay!” Rosie rushed up to salvage the situation. She took Charlie by the shoulders and guided her away. “We’ll be back after a brief intermission.”

            “Well, I think that went well,” said Alastor, grinning.

            “For you, yeah, because you got entertainment,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Precisely!” said Alastor.

            “Do you think Charlie can convince them all to follow her?” said (Y/N), looking out over the crowd of cannibals.

            “If she can entertain them enough,” said Alastor. “And Charlie is always quite amusing.”

            “I hope it works. I think if we have numbers, we have a chance against the angels.” (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. “And I really want a chance to fight the angels. I don’t like them.”

            “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of chances to kill them to your hearts content,” said Alastor, grinning widely. “Just make sure to practice defense techniques with your magic. We can’t have you getting killed, can we?”

            “I’d rather not,” laughed (Y/N), and Alastor smiled. (Y/N) looked at him. “And make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

            Alastor laughed. “I am the Radio Demon. It will take more than some angels to harm me.”

            “You’re strong, yeah,” said (Y/N). “But, still, I don’t want you to die.”

            Alastor’s smile froze, and he cocked his head. Instead of getting a reply, though, Rosie and Charlie returned to the square before more could be said.

            “You can do this,” said Rosie gently.

            Charlie looked at her nervously. Alastor held out his microphone, and Charlie’s eyes widened. (Y/N) nodded encouragingly, and Charlie squared her shoulders, holding the staff in front of her. She took a deep breath and began to sing.

(Charlie) “Have you ever wanted something that was so clear in your mind that you could taste it?

            “You mean like human flesh?” piped up Susan.

            “Eugh, sort of,” said Charlie, smiling awkwardly.

(Charlie) “It’s a feeling like a rumbling in your gut that you could finally be faced with a billion needy faces, I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life, I might have to be ready for this.”

            She glanced at the others. Rosie clapped and smiled, Alastor gave a thumbs-up, and (Y/N) nodded and grinned. Charlie’s confidence surged.

(Charlie) “Ready to be the one who’s leading from the front, Gotta come into my own, Gotta come into my throne~ Gotta take charge and defend my only home, And although I kinda feel unsteady, Now I need to be ready for this.”

            She stepped down from the dais and walked among the people of Cannibal Town.

(Charlie) “Have you ever felt like you’re willing to die to save the people of your city?”

            “By ‘die to do’ you mean use my teeth to rip flesh apart?” asked Susan.

            “That’s a start!” said Charlie, deciding to let Susan have her fun.

(Charlie) “’Cause right now we need a leader, And it seems to me that Destiny has picked me to be that, If you’ll permit me. So who’s with me?”

            She spun around and grinned.

(Charlie) “Wouldn’t it be super to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel, Come on boys hope in the saddle, Lotta sights to see en route to my hotel, Not to mention the camaraderie, Yes, siree, you’ll form life-changing friendships With folks along the way!” (Alastor) “And feast on all the angels you can eat!” (Charlie) “Okay…”

            However, the incentive of food instantly piqued the attention of the crowd. The cannibals were excited, eager to get a taste of the exorcists that had plagued them for so long.

(Cannibals) “It’s time now to act, They’re on the attack! When they move to strike, We will fight biting back!”

            Charlie had done it. Alastor took back his microphone, and Rosie placed her own staff with a skull-head in Charlie’s hand to lead the cannibals.

(Cannibals) “We’ll follow your lead, We’re eager to feed, We’ll sharpen our teeth for the heavenly feast, From this moment on, you can count on us, To be resolute and ravenous! Our appetites are whet, and we’re set to seize the day, So I say, ‘Oh, hey!’ come join the flesh buffet!” (Charlie) “Well, that’s a little violent, Can we tone it down?” (Rosie) “Oh, don’t be put off by their snarlin’ That’s enthusiasm, darlin’!”

            Charlie looked out over the ravenous cannibals as they retrieved weapons and grinned widely.

(Charlie) “Eh, they just seem a little murder-y right now.” (Rosie) “Don’t worry, honey, that’s their thing, Keep singing.” (Charlie and Rosie) “We’re super-duper grateful to have you aboard!” (Cannibals) “We can’t wait to taste an angel’s wings!” (Charlie) “Oh, lord.”

            The crowd grabbed her and supported her above their shoulders, and Charlie looked out proudly, hands on her hips.

(Charlie) “For the first time in my life, Maybe I can be ready for this, I can be the marshal leading the parade, I can come into my own, And I think I’ve always known, My destiny could never be postponed! When Adam brings the battle here, I must appear Like I’m ready for this!”

            Rosie, Alastor, and (Y/N) grinned as they watched.

(Rosie) “They’re dancing along, They’re singing her song!”

            She spun (Y/N) around.

(Alastor) “Surprised, why, I knew she could do it all along!”

            He spun (Y/N) around, and they laughed.

((Y/N)) “She’s bound to pass the test as Princess of Hell!” ((Y/N), Alastor, Rosie) “Like her daddy, she is madly power-fell!”

            Alastor spun Rosie around, and she grinned and held (Y/N)’s hands, swinging them up.

(Alastor) “She’s filled with potential that I could guide!”

            Rosie grabbed him and (Y/N) and pulled them close.

(Rosie) “I concur!” (Rosie, Alastor, (Y/N)) “Stick with her, You’ll be on the winning side!” (All) “For the first time in our lives, We know that we are ready for this!” (Rosie) “We’ll show Heaven a fight they won’t forget!” (All) “It’s to take a stand!” (Charlie) “It’s time to lend a hand!”

            “Huzzah!” shouted the crowd.

(All) “Against all the angels and their deadly threat! We cannot take it anymore, The time has come to go to war, Prepare to fight, we’re ready for thiiiiis!” (Charlie) “I really hope that I’m ready for this.”

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

@grippleback-galaxy

@just-here-reading

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@a-small-tyrant

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@pandaquick

@funkyexistence

@theyaremorethanjustfictional

@lanxianschoenheit

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@ringsofpersonti

@futureittomainn

@enderpearltv

@oo0lady-mad0oo

@falsemain

@a-huge-bi-nerd

@lost-in-the-hellaverse

@tagthetrekkie

@amberforest08

[calicovobo]

Cat Chronicles

Summary: The snippets of life captured by a stray cat. 

Word Count: 927

A/N: Hello! This is my first piece of writing on this page, I hope you enjoy! <3

Part Two

You loved looking at buildings. As a cat who barely reaches the bottom of a park bench, buildings were always so tall and intriguing. The buildings with the pretty string lights draped across to the classic solid concrete ones that parents warn their children not to get close to unless they wanted to get taken by some villain, you loved them all. They each had their own story, inside and out. 

But, what you really loved about buildings was the amazing fight scenes you got to see with a front row view, watching as the heroes with their typical flashy quirks chase and take down villains. And while excited pedestrians had to stay back and cheer from a distance, you got to be right up close to the battle scene. You admit that you were quite a fan of these heroes, and in a classic cat feature, the bright lights never failed to catch your eye.

No one noticed you in your hiding spots next to dumpsters or in alleyways. It was perfect for your small and flexible body, and when the fight was as dramatic as they are, the attention is always pinpointed in a separate direction from you. 

“Great capture tonight Eraserhead, you just gotta finish up signing some forms and we’ll take care of the clean-up.” 

After a rather mediocre battle at 2AM, Aizawa couldn’t wait to go home and sleep. But as he was watching the clean-up crew start moving debris and damaged parts around the area, he saw in the corner of his eye a small figure trapped under a slanted plank of wood. 

‘Aw great, how am I supposed to get out of this’ you thought as you watched this giant piece of wood encapsulate your hiding spot. You just wanted to watch the infamous Eraserhead take down a villain! But instead your excitement made you too greedy for action and you found yourself trapped when they were battling. The slanted plank fell low enough to the point that you couldn’t fit to escape. 

‘Maybe I can slither into this tiny crack…yeah that may work- or or maybe when they do recycling tomorrow I can run out and leave!’ With your brain rushing to come up with ideas, you didn’t notice the slow but deliberate footsteps coming your way. 

“Come here, sorry for getting you caught up in the fight.” Startled, you watched as he, with his big strong muscles hidden by his classic dark fabric, lifted the plank and set it aside roughly. Looking up at him with your big green eyes and tri-colored fur, he was enamored by just how cute you were. Your calico coat was just so pretty and with those kind eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were someone's beloved pet they lost. 

‘Big hero man is looking at me!’ You couldn’t believe that the hero of the night just became your personal hero! What a dream come true to be so close to one of your many idols! Your enthusiastic chirps and meows brought a soft smile to the tired hero’s face. 

“I’m glad one of us has enough energy to last the night.” Though he adored your obvious passionate energy, he couldn’t help but worry if you really were someone’s pet with just how trusting you are. He gladly complied as your warm body curled around and rubbed against his legs, just begging for pets. 

“Does this cat have an owner?” Aizawa asked as a member of the clean-up crew walked past with his big hands still giving you rubs. 

The worker was surprised as Eraserhead was infamous for leaving right away after his duty was done. “H-huh? Um, no I don’t think I’ve ever seen that cat before. Maybe it belongs to one of the buildings nearby and just got lost? I can contact the shelter to get it out of your way.” 

“No need. I can deal with it.” Aizawa said as he continued complying to your needy cravings of pets. The scene would make anyone freeze in their steps; a hero known for their deadpan and tired attitude petting a very happy and affectionate calico cat who was sticking to him like glue. 

‘Oh my gosh I love him!. Right there right there! It feels so good.’ It was impossible not to hide your pleasure as Aizawa rubbed behind your ears. You were putty in his hands and didn’t want the night to ever end! 

“Do you belong to anyone tiny? I have to go soon, got a class full of brats to teach tomorrow, tch.” He knew you couldn’t answer him but he didn’t want to leave you out here all alone. He was aware of the animal and cat haters who weren’t afraid to kick you aside, especially with how friendly you are towards humans. But, as the sky continued to get darker and as he remembered that he had an early class to attend to tomorrow, he knew he had to leave eventually. 

Aizawa had thoughts of just taking you into his arms and bringing you home with him but, if you really did have a family looking for you, he didn’t want to take you from that spot just yet. You looked at him curiously as he spiraled into a mental debate with himself. And, just as he was about to make his decision, you gave him one last head bump to his leg and hurried away. 

You loved humans but you were a cat meant to explore and venture, nothing could hold you back!

[yoongiseesawmp3]

paradigm - seonghwa (m)

summary: bored, at work, you start to realize your fellow bartender seonghwa is hot. like really hot. after talking, you find out you’re both having dating trouble. how bad would it be if you helped each other out, just a little bit?

word count: 4.4k

warnings: smut!!!!! switch!seonghwa (leaning bottom), switch!reader (leading top), afab reader, oral (m receiving), cumplay, penetrative sex (unprotected), mentions of alcohol

masterlist

dating sucks, and lately your roster has been disappointing you exponentially. you need new blood, but you’re not sure where to go to find it. you’re tired of apps, bored with shitty conversations and no follow through, and if you have to waste another night out at an expensive restaurant just for the most mediocre sex of your life then you might start to consider celibacy. 

you’re griping about all of this to your friend from work, seonghwa, when a customer comes in and ruins the mood. you’re technically off the clock, just here to bug hwa while the dinner rush trickles in, but you decide to do some prep for your shift tomorrow while you wait. you’re not a sommelier by any means, but in an attempt to class up the joint, the owner wanted to hire someone who could pose as a wine snob to make the place seem nicer. enter you, a self proclaimed connoiseur (you drank a lot in college). seonghwa is the night bartending lead, and also the most attractive man in the world, no competition. you’re staying late today to make a house sangria out of some poorly selling wines, but you also wanted to linger and make eyes at seonghwa with his newly bleached hair. 

speaking of the object of your desires, seonghwa turns back to you after pouring a round of shots for a guy who barely looks 18 let alone 21, and he jumps back into your previous conversation.

“sorry, what was i saying?” he asks you, wiping his hands on a bar towel.

“did you card that kid?” you ask back, watching the customer struggle to balance the heavy tray of shots back to his table.

“yeah,” seonghwa shrugs. “it didn’t look like a fake but he’s definitely twelve.”

“you’re very ethical,” you point out, struggling to cut the orange in front of you, tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. seonghwa watches on, intrigued by the shock of pink poking your lips, but you interrupt his staring by saying “you were about to solve all my relationship problems before squarepants showed up.”

“right,” he laughs, gently taking the knife from your hands. “let me do this, you’re gonna chop a finger off. you shouldn’t be doing this with a paring knife anyway.”

“that’s all we have back here!” you complain. then, you watch in shock as seonghwa produces a utility knife from thin air. “you a magician?”

“no,” he laughs with that strained smile of his. “i’ve got a couple hidden back here-”

“safe,” you interrupt.

“-face down, in this jar, as safe as can be, thank you,” he continues, pointing to the jar he’s talking about. 

“how’d you get those?”

“i asked wooyoung,” he shrugs. “they’ve got plenty in the kitchen so he said i could have some spares.”

“so helpful, that kid,” you say as you swipe an orange slice seonghwa just cut.

“hey!”

“cut em into rounds,” you instruct, taking little nibbles out of the slice in your hands. “they’re going into sangria, so make it pretty.”

“now i’m starting to understand why you can’t land a man,” hwa grumbles as he follows your request.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask in mock hurt.

“you’re high maintenance!”

“i didn’t ask you to do this for me,” you chuckle, taking the knife back from him. “go back to your job, the less we bother each other the earlier i’ll leave.”

“but then who’s gonna get on my nerves?” seonghwa asks with a pout.

“wooyoung?”

“probably.”

“oh, right, i was saying,” he starts again, messing with some of the quick pours, “if you can’t meet anyone on an app then you might have to, gasp, meet someone in person y/n.”

“i know that,” you groan. “but how? where? just start going up to strangers?”

“basically,” hwa nods. “you could start with boy wonder over there.”

“ok, if you’re not gonna be serious about this then we can talk about something else,” you say as you slide the completed slices from your cutting board and into the large sangria pitcher. “how’s your life? any problems we can solve there?”

“hm,” he thinks, “well, hongjoong pointed out yesterday that i haven’t brought anyone back to the apartment in six months, so that’s a new record i think.”

“six months?” you scoff. “i don’t believe you.”

“why not?”

“looking the way you do?” you ask. “no way you don’t get boned on the regular.”

“what do you mean looking the way i do?” seonghwa asks with a smile. 

“never mind.”

“no, tell me in detail.”

“i need to grab an apple from the kitchen,” you say, trying to scoot past seonghwa to find your escape. unfortunately, he cages you in, arms enclosing around you and resting on the bar behind you. 

“you like the way i look?” he asks with a smirk, and you decide to take the bait.

“um, yeah? especially with your hair like this, it’s kinda sexy,” you admit, not letting seonghwa get the best of you.

“oh?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at your response. he holds your gaze for a moment, and briefly, very briefly, you think he might kiss you. the sound of the bell above the door distracts seonghwa ever so slightly, and you’re able to slip from his trap before he can stop you again. you scurry to the back of house, hiding in the walk in for just a minute before you head back to the bar. 

seonghwa is busy with some of the regulars at the bar, doing his best to relate to these old men and make their disgusting drinks without batting an eye. you’re able to take up your spot at the end of the bar, happily chopping fruit until you’ve got enough for two big pitchers of sangria tomorrow. you start pulling the low bottles from the wine rack behind you, and in your focused state you don’t notice seonghwa finishing up with the men and turning back to watch you. he’s leaning against the bar drying some glasses, his eyes sweeping up and down your body, noticing (not for the first time) how good you look in the uniform. he’s so focused on staring at your ass that he almost doesn’t notice you struggling to reach a wine bottle at the top of the rack, but he steps in and places his hand at the small of your back while he easily grabs the wine you were reaching for, handing it to you with a wink.

“thanks,” you blush, not expecting this small act of kindness from him. his hand lingers for a moment, and when he finally removes it, you can feel the warmth it left in its wake. “how long with you be here tonight?”

“till close, why?” seonghwa asks, hopeful.

“i’m putting this in the walk in, do you mind tasting it before you leave? that should be enough time for it to set, and just let me know if needs anything else?” you ask, not noticing how seonghwa’s face falls once he hears what you need. 

“yeah, sure,” he replies. “so you’re heading out?”

“yeah,” you nod. “been here too long, i’m not getting paid overtime for this.”

“i can share some of my tips,” seonghwa offers, but you shake your head.

“i haven’t contributed, those are your tips m’dear.”

“but you did?” seonghwa says, confused.

“how?”

“looking beautiful,” he sighs, making you laugh at the way his face changes from serious to dreamy so quick. 

“seonghwa if i didn’t know any better i’d say you’re coming onto me,” you joke, looking for any fruit scraps you might have missed in your clean up.

“and what if i am?” he comes back, and you stop. you look up at him and he just quirks that damn eyebrow again as if to challenge you to respond. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow, hwa.”

“i’m just saying, we could help each other out!” he half shouts as you walk away, and you swat in his direction and tell him to quiet down. “think about it!” he calls after you one last time, and then you’re too close to the kitchen to hear what he might try to convince you with next.

-

you make it home just fine, warming up your dinner before you take a short shower. the whole time you go about your routine though, you keep thinking back to what seonghwa said. he was flirting with you, he made that clear. and when he said you could help each other out? your subconscious needs to hear more about that before it runs wild in your imagination. but you can’t just text him and say hey wanna come fuck?...right? 

you decide to distract yourself with a show, doing your best to focus on their drama and not your own. you start dozing off a couple episodes in, the exhaustion from your day finally catching up with you. when your phone buzzing wakes you up, you notice how late it is. your first thought is about the restaurant, this is usually closing time, and then your next thought it seonghwa. did he try your sangria like you asked? that’s when you realize the reason for you phone buzzing was the man himself. you check the message and it’s a simple “hey” which makes you scoff. you sit up, pausing your show before you respond. 

“hey,” you send. then, “did you try my sangria?”

“yeah,” he replies immediately. you watch as the three dots pop up for a moment, and disappear again. 

“and?” you prompt, wanting an answer about your concoction before you go in tomorrow.

“i have thoughts,” he texts back. is he always this dry over text?

“what are your thoughts.”

a few seconds go by, but it feels like hours as you watch him type, and type.

“let me tell you in person ? :)”

-

seonghwa gets to your house in less than 20 minutes, so either he sped all the way here, or he was already on the way when he was texting you. sneaky bastard either way. he knocked quietly, and you opened the door quickly to find him standing there looking delectable as ever despite just working a closing shift. you open your mouth to say something when seonghwa speaks first.

“it needs sugar,” he says quickly, grabbing your face and kissing you after. it’s hungry, but meditated, like he’d been waiting for this. you weren’t the only one with occupied thoughts the past few hours, because seonghwa couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he wanted to do with you. the things he wanted you to do to him. while he’s got you by the mouth, you wrap your arms around his waist and fully pull him into your apartment, his foot catching the door to close it for you. you push him against it, hands itching to touch his skin as his hands settle at your neck. you grab wildly at his shirt, pulling him even closer to you so your breaths are becoming one and your lips stay locked together. seonghwa nips at your bottom lip, and you yelp, the pause letting his tongue explore your mouth. you moan at the taste of him, and he feels his cock stirring in his pants at the sound. with your hands still grabbing his shirt firmly, you tug him toward your couch, hoping you don’t back into anything as you walk. hwa’s hands fall from your neck to your waist, his eyes peeking open to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. 

you make it to the couch and pull seonghwa down on top of you, your hands sliding down his chest, memorizing every line and every dip, until your hands stop at his waist, trying to untuck his shirt so you can slip your hands underneath it and run your fingers over his skin. when he feels you make contact, he shudders, and you smile into the kiss, finally pulling back for a minute to catch your breath. 

“sensitive?” you ask with a teasing glint in your eye, and seonghwa grinds down into you, earning a shocked moan from you.

“no, you?” he asks mockingly, brushing the hair from your face as he hovers over you. the way he’s looking at you is too sincere for your liking, but you can’t help admiring him in return. you’ve never been this close to him, and you’ve never noticed how deep his dark brown eyes are, or the way his sharp features get more delicate the closer you look. your gaze trails back down to his plump lips, reddened from your prior make out, and you nip at his lips to entice him to kiss you again. he’s easy to convince, because he’s diving in again, kissing you deeper this time. your hands continue exploring his soft skin, but you trail them lower to his belt and work at getting it undone. you don’t bother taking it out, you just undo it and his pants, letting your hand dip down to cup him over his boxers. the touch has seonghwa bucking his hips, his breath fanning over your cheeks as he pants at the contact. you can tell he’s trying to get more friction by moving his hips, but you’re not having that. 

“ah ah,” you say, pulling back from the kiss and smirking when seonghwa chases your lips. “if we’re gonna do this you gotta be good for me. keep your hips still.”

“who said i have to listen to you?” he boldly quips, and a firm squeeze to the bulge in his pants has him caving quickly.

“my house, my rules,” you tease, tracing the outline of his cock lightly. “so? can you be good for me, sweet boy?” he eagerly nods, trying not to buck into your hand again as you cup him tighter. 

“tell me how you want me,” he says in a voice that’s just barely above a whisper, and if his lips weren’t ghosting over yours as he spoke you might’ve missed it. you smile at him and peck his lips sweetly, removing your hands from him completely to cup his cheeks. 

“on my bed? take your shirt off, and i’ll meet you in there.” he kisses you one more time, tongue dipping in to hold you there longer, but a quick pinch to his cheek has him pulling back sadly, sticking his tongue out at you as he untangles himself from your hold. you watch as he wanders toward the hallway, his hand reaching back to pull his shirt over his head. you could write sonnets about the way his back muscles contract as he moves, almost drooling as your eyes follow his every move. “second door on the right,” you call out to him, and then he disappears down the hall. 

you want to make him wait a minute, so you take your time getting up and taking your own shirt off, discarding it on the couch before tugging your sleep shorts up high enough to accentuate your ass (since you know seonghwa loves staring at it so much). you walk toward your room, heart racing at what you’re about to do, but a quiet cry pulls you out of your thoughts. you slide to your door, catching yourself on the door frame as you look on in shock at seonghwa palming himself and tweaking one of his nipples. you’d keep enjoying the show, but your dramatic entrance and the gasp you let out at what you found distracts him, and he blushes but smirks anyway, motioning for you to join him.

“you took too long,” he sighs, grabbing your hand to pull you on top of him as soon as you’re close enough. you slot yourself over his crotch, careful not to make direct contact with his cock just yet. you drape your arms over his shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while you speak. 

“before we keep going,” you start, “can i ask something?”

“am i harder than i’ve ever been right now? yes,” he replies, and you laugh.

“no, but thank you for the insight,” you giggle, the motion grazing you over his lap. he contracts at the contact, and you sit further up into his lap before continuing. “i just wanna be sure, you’re clean right?”

“y/n, i told you, it’s been months,” he deadpans. “and i was plenty clean before that. so yes.”

“ok, well, i was asking, because, um, i don’t think i have any condoms?” you say sheepishly, and the color drains from seonghwa’s face. “so either we just do oral or you can come on my stomach.”

“stomach please,” he says quickly, and you smile at how eager he is.

“yeah?” and he nods again. “lay back for me then.”

“what, already?” he asks, and you shake your head. 

“no baby, i’m gonna take it slow,” you say as you lift yourself from his lap so he can lay back on your bed. you crawl down his body, leaving kisses across his chest and down between the soft lines of his abdomen. “you’re really soft.”

“thanks,” he whispers, watching you intently. “new lotion.”

“hm, really?” you ask, kissing along the waistband of his pants. “what kind?”

“i’m not really sure babe, i’ll have to get back to you on that,” he says as he rolls his eyes, and you work on pulling his pants down. he helps you by kicking them off the rest of the way, and he keeps his hips raised, thinking you’ll take his boxers off next. you simply just press his hips back into the mattress and go back to sprinkling kisses across his waist, down his thigh, along the seam of his briefs, ignoring his cock completely as you move to the other side to repeat your motions. seonghwa groans above you, and it stokes your ego to know he’s affected by such meager attention. 

“you sure you’re not sensitive?” you ask tauntingly, looking up at seonghwa but leaving your lips hovering over his cock. his eyes fall to yours and he whines at the sight of you so close to him but still separated, and you decide he’s had enough teasing for now. 

“if i say yes will you just take these off?” he asks, but you’re already moving to free his cock from his final layer. his cock bobs as hwa lifts himself up to remove his boxers fully, and you feel proud at how red and swollen it is just from a few touches. you softly grasp it, earning a gasp from the beautiful man above you. you spit on it before twisting your hand to work him up a little more, and the whines leaving his pouted lips reminds you of what he said earlier. 

“does it feel good, or am i hurting you?” you ask, wanting to make sure this is good for both of you.

“feels so good,” he breathes out, teeth clenched. “but i need to come soon.”

“really? couldn’t tell,” you tease, stroking him a few more times before leaning down to lick his tip. his precum coats your tongue, and you’re addicted to him and the sounds he’s making above you. you suck on the head, pulling back and spitting on your hand before you stroke him again, steadying him in front of you so you can swallow him in one go. when hwa feels his head hit the back of your throat, he cries out, shaking above you beautifully. you’re mesmerized by him, and you can’t help but watch as you bob up and down on his cock, stroking what you can’t fit. you flatten your tongue beneath him as you lick all the way back up, sucking on his tip again to get his attention. in his hazy state he stares down at you, eyes glazed over and mouth open slightly. he watches entranced as you go down on him again, and this time when you feel him at the back of your throat you suck, bobbing up and down messily, and you get to watch as seonghwa comes undone above you. his body jerks as he comes, shooting his load down your throat in spurts, but it’s such a strong orgasm you’re almost afraid he’ll never stop coming. you keep watching him even after he’s done, breathing heavily and sweat dripping from his forehead. you slowly remove yourself from his cock, holding the rest of his release that was sitting on your tongue in your mouth.

“so good to me,” he says breathlessly, watching you crawl back up to sit on his lap again. you give him a kiss, dipping your tongue past his lips so you can push the rest of his come into his mouth, and he moans when he realizes what you’re doing. his hands grip your hips, grinding you down into him, and you’re shocked to feel him hard again. you let hwa keep grinding you into his cock like that, making out with him slowly, until you can’t take it anymore. 

“can i ride you?” you ask after detaching yourself from his mouth. 

“do you even have to ask?” 

“help me get undressed then,” you reply, and seonghwa quickly grabs the elastic of your sports bra and helps you pull it over your head. his hands carefully trail over your chest, taking time to pinch at your nipples which makes you buck into him for once. his hands keep going, tracing down your back to dip into your shorts and squeeze your ass. he pushes your shorts off then, leaving you in your panties, a wet patch almost dripping over his cock. you grind down into him to let him feel how wet you are, and his head falls back as he groans.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, tracing his fingers over your waistband before he dips a finger past the elastic to slowly pull those down too.

“death by pussy?” you joke as you help him take your panties off. “not a bad way to go.”

“yeah now that i think about it that might be a sweet deal,” he smiles. hands going wild trying to find purchase on your thighs, your ass, your waist. seonghwa watches with stars in his eyes as you grab his cock, lining him up at your entrance, and as you try to get him at the right angle he sees your arousal literally drip from you core, and you feel his cock twitch in your hand. “you are so sexy, y/n.”

“not as sexy as-ugh-you,” you grunt, feeling him at your entrance. you brace yourself on his strong shoulders, making eye contact with him before you sink down on his cock. “oh, fuck.”

“shit,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him. “maybe i did die. maybe this is what heaven feels like.”

“what’s it feel like?”

“soft,” he starts off, and then his face contorts as you grind down. “and warm. like you.”

“god, hwa, you feel so good stretching me out,” you tell him. “i’m gonna move now.” he nods, and you take that as enough encouragement to bounce on his lap, setting a fast rhythm to chase your own high. he shifts beneath you, trying to help you find the right angle, and when he moves just right and hits your g-spot you literally collapse on top of him, moaning straight into his ear as he bucks up to keep fucking you right where you need it. 

“you good baby?” he whispers in your ear, and you just moan in response, thighs struggling to hold you up because hwa has managed to turn your legs to jelly. you regain some control by bracing yourself on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over his nipples as you try to pick your pace back up. you’re already close, and you clench down on hwa to test the waters, seeing how much more it’ll take before he comes too. “aw fuck, do that again, feels so good y/n.”

“you gotta tell me,” you huff out, squeezing him between your walls, “you gotta tell me when you’re close, remember?”

“i know,” he nods. “not yet though. loving your pussy too much, don’t wanna leave it.” his hands at your waist start to move, one circling around to cup your ass, the other sliding down to find your clit. hwa starts just by tapping it slowly, sending jolt after jolt through your core. your moans turn into high pitched cries, tears pricking at your eyes, and hwa slows to rub your clit with a determination to get you to finish before him. “look at me,” he says, and your eyes meet his. he takes in your fucked out state, bucking up to meet your hips again. you watch him as you crash into your release, almost yelling at how good it feels to have him fuck you through your orgasm. you’re quickly oversensitive though, so you bounce on him a couple more times before pulling off his cock, and the release from your warm walls has him coming as soon as the cold air hits his dick. you watch in awe as he jerks again, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he finishes on himself, come spurting up his stomach and even landing on your thighs still pressed up against his. you keep watching as he comes down, swiping a finger through the come that managed to land on you, and he sucks it clean off his fingers. he’s pulling you in for a kiss before you can do anything else, and then you feel his tongue pressing past your lips to deposit his release into your mouth. you pull back from him, spit and come connecting your lips, but you swallow and show him, a cocky smile growing over his face. 

“that was hot,” you say, still trying to breath normally.

“yeah, we need to do that again,” hwa replies.

“again? now?”

“no, not now, unless you want to,” he says with a smirk. “but i was thinking more like another day. when we need it again.”

“that’d be nice,” you agree, and seonghwa slowly pulls you down to lay against his chest. he presses a kiss to the top of your head before he speaks again.

“and i was thinking...if we did this again..we could do it at my place, and do it by my rules. what do you say?”

[from-memphis-with-love]

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 8

Summary: Francesca throws herself fully into a new project, all the while struggling with loneliness and unfulfilled desires. Elvis battles the demons of fame and addiction and goes back to making mediocre films, reminiscing about what could have been. A chance phone call sets the scene for the possibility of a reignited flame. Word count: 8,200 Warnings: Emotional distress; heartache; brief mentions of substance abuse. Catch up with Francesca and Elvis in previous chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

If New York was the city that never slept, Francesca could only think of Phoenix as the city that never cooled. For all its sunny beauty, fine cuisine and fast living: it was a sweltering mess. The humidity had her hairdresser working overtime on set to keep her updo inflated with hairspray.

The script for her new film had gone through changes along with her. She’d arrived looking for a new direction and the picture inadvertently transitioned too. Just the name had been washed and rinsed now about seven times. Flames of Fury. Flames of Retribution. Rising from the Ashes. Now there was a twist. The newly widowed lead, Roxy Flare, wasn’t just a housewife spiraling into a pit of despair and grief. Now, she’d crossed paths with the notorious mob boss tied to her husband’s supposed accidental death. It was morphing from cerebral drama to gritty thriller. She rather liked it.

Francesca never felt more focused on set, although she never felt more out at sea in her personal life. She went home to a townhouse in the suburbs, a lowkey location to keep off the map of the local paparazzi. Every now and then, one trickled in, but her house blended seamlessly in with the rest of the narrow lot cookie cutter houses. Hers was delightfully blue, complimenting the other rainbow hues swatching the uphill street.

Inside, she’d barely unpacked a thing. The walls were blank. Her floors, bare. Her steps echoed loudly in the empty house. Her cat had been unnerved, but got used to it rather quickly. Frannie wondered when it would start to feel like home for her too. But after a few weeks where she could barely bring herself to hang a set of curtains, she got into a slight groove. Then came a knock at the door.

That sound startled her. Only a few people knew of her new address and number: her immediate family and Dominick. She’d had her mail forwarded to a PO box. So, when a courier with a package tapped his foot on the porch, Frannie wondered if he possibly had the wrong address.

She opened the door. Beside the courier, a tall crate, notched with head-high holes. When she squinted into the darkness, she could see something moving inside. Startled, she didn’t notice the courier handing her a clipboard.

“Could you sign here? I can’t mark it as delivered otherwise.”

Frannie signed her name, peering at the sheet. Sure enough, it was addressed to her. A receipt of delivery for one: EXOTIC IMPORT. Er… what on Earth had made its way to her door?

Now the courier had a thick packet of papers for her.

“Wait, what's this?” She thumbed through them, letting him push the crate through the door, minding the hardwood as he sat it down. The papers were import records, vaccine certifications, and care instructions. Fluttering sounded from inside the box. “Do you know who sent this?”

The young man shrugged. “Dunno, ma’am, sorry. Whoever ordered it didn’t bother putting a return address on it. To be honest with you, I’m just glad to finally have it out of my van.”

He shook her hand, leaving her to the care of her new guest. Her cat sniffed around the edge of the crate. A clicking noise resounded from inside. Looking around for something to start shimmying the planks open with, the rattling of a hinge queued her into the latch at the top. Hesitantly, she unthreaded the silver bar and the door swung open. Before she could peer inside, whatever inhabited the space rushed out in a flurry.

Francesca recoiled. A wash of crimson and azure flashed before her eyes. An ear ratcheting squawk emanated in her echoing halls. Her cat took off, hiding safely from the stairway, keeping a close eye on the situation. The creature that’d been unceremoniously stuffed inside of the ill fitted box, now covered in crap and feathers, fanned out her beautiful wings, preening them.

It was a parrot. A large one at that, with black eyes that saw straight through her as it whimsically chattered, nibbling at itself, keeping her in its sight. Its beak was stark white against a vibrant plumage. She could see the fear in its eyes, which upon approach, she realized were not straight onyx, but moon yellow surrounding inky irises that narrowed and expanded. It’d perched on the back of her settee, its claws curling with loud pops into the fabric.

Sofly, she continued to close the distance between her and the bird. It was large enough and perhaps even frightened enough to do serious damage to her. This poor thing had been squeezed inside of a narrow crate with no food for who knows how long while it was shuttled off to live in a strange new home, in a totally foreign environment. Weren’t these beautiful things from the tropics? Again, she had to wonder who on Earth had sent this to her? Was this supposed to be a gift?

“It’s all right,” Francesca assured, gently extending out her hand to the bird. Its wings fanned open defensively, and she noticed that their length was distorted. They must have been clipped at some point. Another pang in her heart for this unfortunate soul. Then, it began to voice its displeasure with loud hawking crows. The sound was ear piercing, reverberating in her head. Relentless! It had to be hungry.

Suddenly, her day was filled with purpose, with routine. She bought seed from the store, specialized for large birds. She purchased some little jingly bells and a chain with a tiny mirror and shiny trinkets to pick at. Treats, vitamins. Birds needed supplemental nutrition, right? She couldn’t imagine being satisfied with a dusty bag of seeds.

Gertrude, emphasis on the rude, was the name she deemed fitting for the screechy little lady. For weeks, Frannie didn’t get enough peace because Gertrude simply wouldn’t stop cawing. Like a colicky baby, the noise, the squawking, it never ceased. She was lost on the idea that parrots knew words; this one simply knew how to scream. But, she was rather beautiful. And Frannie liked to admire that beauty as Gertrude sat atop her window perch, when her eyes were focused on the dogwalker outside or the mail being delivered, children running down the street—there was a fascination and sadness in the creature she related deeply to. Those quiet moments were growing longer and one day, after a particularly hard day filming with her fickle director, the two of them reached an understanding.

“Hmmm, that’s not it, now play it more melancholy,” Nolan James had asked, like it wasn’t her 11th take. Her feet were starting to ache in those gaudy, spiked heel boots. She longed for the solitude of home. For warm, brawny arms to wrap around her and tell her that it would be all right, that she was fussing over nothing. Take a vacation about it, darling, buy some jewels to feel better.

She longed for him. Oh, how she missed him.

Gertrude flew over, the sound so much louder than anyone could have prepared her for. Like a copter closing distance. She barely flinched now as her attention was rapt on a People Today article about Elvis’ new film promos. They seemed terribly formulaic, like his agent had put him back up for the highest bidder. It wasn’t what she’d want for him, certainly not what he seemed to crave on the set of Gambling on Your Love. There, he seemed determined, vigorous, driven, ready to cut his chops on something with more substance.

Filming on his new pictures was already wrapping up, whereas Frannie’s had another few months before hitting editing, at least. It didn’t bode well for him. She’d go see it, regardless of the pang in her heart when she saw his handsome face in a small shot of the movie’s ad poster. A cheesy back-to-back pose with an actress she didn’t recognize and Elvis, grinning at the camera. Love Me Tender, Love Me Alien. She chuckled at the absurdity. He was holding a ray gun. 

Wings fluttered aside her and Gertrude’s claws popped in and out of the settee fabric as she inched closer to see what had Frannie so engaged. She leaned in, tilting her head, zooming with her right eye before chittering. It was the closest she’d come to her, and nearer still she inched until her warm body was pressed against the side of Frannie’s head. Before she knew it, the bird had stepped cautiously down onto her shoulders, making her wince at the sharpness of talons finding purchase. She allowed Frannie to stroke her chest and to feed her. Slowly, it graduated from the occasional preen to a spoiled neediness. 

Gertrude liked to stay on Frannie’s shoulder. To pull at long strands of her hair and cleave the ends sneakily, letting little clippings fall all around the house. She loved to peck and nibble at Frannie’s earrings. Her humor didn’t shy away in the presence of guests, and she was happy to dance with Frannie to her favorite records.

In time, Frannie learned that wings must be clipped occasionally, or else they’ll grow back. But she didn’t mind at all. Now, Gertrude was a more elegant flier than ever. She was messy, still loud, and beautiful. Obediently learning words and short phrases.

She knew how to call the cat for dinner time, so that was a fun fussy debate she had to struggle through. “No, no, I know. It’s not fair, but don’t blame me. Gertrude outwitted us both.”

Still, she had to wonder who had sent Gertrude into her life. It was a beautiful distraction from the heartache. Her bed was still so, so terribly empty. She reached out across from herself to splay her hand in the coolness. Thinking of him was something she needed… and couldn’t stop. Tears misted her eyes as she lay alone holding onto her pillow, where if she buried her face deep and used a pinch of wishful thinking, she could just get a whiff of his cologne, clinging on for dear life.

She ought to call him, but looking at her phone, sitting pretty and quiet, unrung like her ring finger, she resisted the urge. What would she even say to him? Not only did she feel a pang in her chest at the thought of him, but for him. She’d left him quite quickly and quite distraught, with almost no explanation. And then the… thing that happened.

Reaching for a glass of water instead, she tried to focus her mind elsewhere, anywhere but the pain that seemed to settle in whenever she was still. So instead, she kept moving, jumping up so fast that Gertrude squabbled. She must keep busy with something. A distraction. 

The filming process itself for Flames of Fury had been rocky but all in all, much smoother than the ups and downs on the set of Gambling for Your Love—but her truest performance, her heart and soul, had been poured entirely into that movie. She’d brought more than her everything each day. Having Elvis as friendly competition only fueled her to do that much better. They truly had been magic together. 

*

Elvis slumped in the jacuzzi with a swarm of pills floating through him like champagne bubbles, while a girl named Champagne poured him some more cola. He was lost, looking out at the California skyline, mesmerized by the pulsing lights while he sipped slowly, downing some uppers to stable his mood. He couldn’t feel so low when he was surrounded by his crew, women, good music, drugs and food. 

But with laughter all around him, echoing in his ears and growing duller by the second, he felt alone. Even in hot rolling water, California wind blowing through his hair, his thoughts were about her, only her.

Francesca had done a number on him.

Joe patted a buddy on the back, gently ushering a lady aside and telling her about the open bar upstairs, he’d join her later. 

“Hey. You ain’t uh, looking so good. Sure you’re doing okay?” Joe splashed around in the water. “This steam making you dizzy or something? Talk to me. Hello?” He snapped his fingers and Elvis grinned, shoving them away.

“M’fine, I’m fine,” he slurred, clearing his throat, looking his friend in the soulful eyes. “Thank you, Joe.”

Unbelieving, his friend motioned for Red to come over. Now it was going to be a whole big thing and he didn’t want to deal with another round of their pep talks. He understood it. He appreciated it. He knew he shouldn’t be moping around in his misery, but here he was. Enjoying it in some sick way. It was the pain that proved he really loved her. Loved her right now just as much as yesterday and tomorrow. If he could just see her again, hold her in his arms. Smell her hair. Tell her how sorry he was for whatever he’d done. He’d take her back in a second, tell the whole world that he loved her. They were going steady. He was going to marry her. 

“Not even gonna ask. Let’s get you out of the water buddy, you’re looking real… lax right now.” Red didn’t wait for his response, he just looped one brawny arm underneath his friend’s and lifted him up out of the pool. Water sloshed across the cement. The boys wrapped a towel around him.

He wandered inside and didn’t bother changing clothes as he sat still on the couch. This was his costar’s afterparty. Mitzy didn’t throw small bashes either, but Elvis stayed for the after-after party because he didn’t want to go home to his hotel room. Even the glitziest of suites had lost its charm after a few months of taking spurting, hot-cold showers and eating insipid dishes made by an overworked chef. But the service staff were sublime and heavy-handed tips always made the attendants’ eyes bright. He loved seeing that in someone, because he wasn’t getting much of that lately at all. He’d had it when he’d looked at his Francesca.

Elvis wouldn’t let himself fall to tears in front of the boys, but to say he was still torn up about it would be an understatement.

Mitzy Marvel walked in. Adult film actress-made-Hollywood star. She was up and coming to say the least, and a very hard worker… but that’s what worried him about her. Acting was coming easier to him, it had started to when he’d been on stage with Frannie. Mitzy seemed to struggle with finding her footing. This was her first big gig and he had a sneaking suspicion that she’d slept her way in with how nervous she was. Maybe it was just because he was Elvis Presley, but there was a naive wobbliness to her performance. Endearing but nothing compared to Francesca’s heart pounding rounds. She could deliver the same song without losing a bit of enthusiasm, straight from the chest, every time. Just like that. It was something he didn’t just admire—it was something he’d aspired to be.

It gutted him even more still that Gambling on Your Love would remain in this beautifully perfect limbo. All it needed was one more scene, a finale to tie it off and she was good as gold. He’d dreamed of seeing it in theaters with his crew. With Frannie on his arm, pointing out their little nods and glances, knowing the real fire behind the flames on set.

Elvis burned for her.

Joe grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at him as he said in earnest, “Man, you’ve got to get a grip. This woman has ripped your heart clean out, by God. Don’t let her have any more of you. You’ve got to stop thinking about the past. It’s over. It’s done. She’s probably moved on by now—”

“Don’t say that,” Elvis hiccupped.

“So should you. You gotta do something for yourself. Live a little. Relax. Go on a date. Go back to a girl’s place. Bring her back to yours. Do something, other than all this moping.”

“Joe,” Red murmured.

“I’m just sayin’.”

Billy loudly vomited over the second level banister, and they all glanced back. Champagne was rubbing his back, Mitzy was wondering who gave him that much. She waved prettily at Elvis, her hair sprayed blonde curls glittering.

Elvis couldn’t stop thinking about her, about the life they could have had together if only she’d given him a chance. He would have taken such good care of her. Of their child.

These were the emotions he tried to avoid with partying and drugs, but some nights, it just made it so much worse. He’d had rougher ones, where he’d lain curled up like an infant in the shower, the light off because it hurt his eyes and made his head throb. Where he had to drag himself from the bathroom floor and into his bed. Never had he considered himself a lightweight, but something about the pain spiraled more pain.

He clutched at his chest, reclined his head and shut his eyes. Thinking about the night breeze cutting through his hair, the milk light of moon swatching a path for them to follow along dark highway roads, shining brighter than diamonds. Campfires reflecting in her gorgeous jewel eyes. The taste of her ruby lips. 

When he awoke, it was sometime in the early morning, just after sunrise. He had to move slowly or else the pudding in his head would just leak out of his ears.

He recalled the boys trying to drag him off the couch, but he wouldn’t budge, slipping deeper into his self-loathing. It was what he’d gotten used to by now. 

With the sun beaming mercilessly into his pinpoint pupils, rocking his head with ice pick stabbing pulses, Elvis winced with every step as he and the boys made their way to the car. He wasn’t feeling up for it at all, but he didn’t like cruising passenger and managed to throw himself into the driver’s seat. He gripped the wheel. 

Back in his penthouse suite, where he had grown rather bored of, Elvis saw the blinking red light of hope twinkling on his answering machine. He raced over to answer it. It could be her. He still couldn’t track her down. She was somewhere in Phoenix, still filming. He knew the movie was a thriller and foolishly had no songs written for her. She was already branching out, while their debut film rested peacefully in an editing room, just waiting to be finished. 

He pressed play, listening with all his heart, to a familiar voice. But it wasn’t Frannie on the other end of the receiver, it was Cassandra Morgan.

“Hey, Presley, it’s Cassandra. I can’t get in touch with Francesca, but I’m sure you can just tell her for me. Ahh, look, I don’t know how done with Gambling you are, but I’ve never stopped thinking about just how electric you two were on camera. I’d give anything to have you two back here in the studio for a little reunion. We can really give this picture what it deserves. I’m sure that you’d like to see it on the big screen, too. Well, just, gimme a call when you get this message. Bye.”

*

Francesca did not avoid her phone, per se, she just tastefully ignored it. But today, the tone was that of resolve as it rang for her attention. She felt out of body as she reached for the phone, clasping the bakelite to her ear, listening to static. Had he found her? Did she want him to? She wasn’t breathing.

“Frannie? Hellooo?” It was Dominick. She hadn’t even heard him.

“Yes, yes, good evening, Dominick. What kind of trouble are you getting into lately?” 

She could hear his smile when he said, “Only the good kind. How’ve you been? How’s it going on set?”

“We’re almost done, I can see the finish line. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired from wearing heels, but these skyscrapers they have me in for some of these scenes are killing my poor ankles.”

“Hardest working ankles in Hollywood. You be sure to pamper yourself.” He lit a cigarette, closing the zippo with a sturdy sliding clack. “You’re your number one asset.”

“So I’ve heard,” she teased, filling up Gertrude’s tray with fresh nuts and seeds, a few veggies from her lunch salad. She happily chittered in response.

“What’s that? You keeping chickens now? I knew you’d tire of the glitz and glam and turn to something rustic and homesteady.”

“You know me too well, Dominick.” But she also knew him well enough that his well-fare calls were usually few and far between. He had something up his sleeve, she was just waiting on him to dish it out.

After a little pause of staticky silence, he said, “So, your old friend Cassandra Morgan rang me up the other day,” he took a long drag. “You’ll never guess what she wanted.”

Well, Frannie had more than a hint. But she’d play along. “She’s directing a new movie and wants me as the lead?” A girl could dream. Cassandra’s screenplays were the stuff of literary dreams on paper and played even better on screen. 

“Hmm. Not quite. In fact, it’s a little closer to your heart than that. She pleaded for another shot with you. One more chance to have you and Elvis on stage together to patch up her unfinished vision.”

When Frannie didn’t immediately answer, Dominick put forth his own opinion. “For a second, let me step away as your agent—not all the way of course—and talk to you as down to Earth as I can, Frannie. Would you listen to an old friend when he says this would be good for you?”

Good for her? Her heart was already pounding at the thought of being on that beautiful, cursed set again. To rip another priceless dress? To wind up in the hospital once more? Who would poison her with what next? Or would her trust be totally violated by the man that she loved?

“I just… don’t think I can see it that way, Dominick. I’ve had fun. I did, I really did love every second. It was magical. But it came at such a hefty price, I just can’t seem to… to wrap my head around how I would begin to trust him again.”

“You know he’s done nothing but look for you ever since you left? He called me until I warned him I’d change my number if he didn’t drop it. I’m not saying you gotta trust the guy, but every time he pleaded with me, well, it sounded as desperate as Casandra, begging for you two once again.” 

These are things she both hated and loved to hear. That he’d tried to get in touch with her. Had he gone to her empty apartment, knocking on an unanswered door in hopes that she would give him another chance?

“I have faith, Frannie, that he’ll take this just as seriously as you do. Besides,” he took a final long drag from his cigarette. “I know you haven’t unpacked those boxes you’re probably surrounded by.”

Alright, he got her there. “Tell Cassandra that I will think about it. Emphasis on think.”

“You’ve got my word. She’ll be happy to just hear a response, I’m sure. Well, take care Frannie. And let me know when you’re wrapping up filming, I’ll come to the premiere of Flames of Retribution.”

“Er, Fury,” she politely corrected. Not that she could blame him with how many tweaks and stitches the meat of the film had gone through, name included. But even for the hiccups, it was still like swimming in the kiddie pool compared to the catastrophic always-on-her-toes intensity of Gambling on Your Love. Although, maybe that was just the nature of her and Elvis’s relationship.

Could she face seeing him again? Not that she didn’t see him every day, hear him every day, think about him every day. Dream about him most nights. Ah, especially those balmy beach getaway dreams where Elvis laid her out underneath a cabana in the sun and made love to her all evening until the sunset and the tide came back in. Or the simpler, more painful ones, that let her perceive a glimpse of the life she could have had with him. All too domestic, just fantasies. She couldn’t be a doting housewife right now, not when her career was just starting to really take off. One day, perhaps. But she’d always worried in the back of her mind while she and Elvis were together, that that is exactly what he wanted. A sultry housewife to come home to that kept the place clean and their children well behaved. How excited he had been at the sudden prospect of a baby coming into their life. All things she couldn’t afford to think about right now!

Her co-star, Billy Flynn, the innocent eldest son of the mafia boss, was no Presley. Or that was to say, she and him had no chemistry. Not that the director seemed to notice. It seemed to play better for her stoic character for her to be less attached, distancing herself to keep her heart from truly being given to another. Playing it safe. He was kind and he read his lines well, played his parts marvelously. In short, there was nothing lacking about his performance, other than he simply wasn’t Him.

Can’t Help Falling in Love made her pull over one night on the drive home. She’d found a dark stretch of highway away from the doming glow of the city lights, where the stars were just visible. She shut the car off, reclined back in her seat and opened the sunroof to gaze up at the dotted night sky. The tears streamed down her face before she even realized. 

In a few weeks, the red carpet roll out of Flames of Fury was a smashing success. Women wanted to be Roxy and men wanted to be with her. She was a dynamite dame with a sense of justice and loyalty that just resonated with the heart strings of so many. 

The showings for Love Me Alien were all taken down as the next season’s films came into rotation. There she was, billed at the top, her name in flashing lights. Her sister was wrapped in a warm fur coat that she’d bought her, her neck shining with jewels, all the things she’d wanted for her since she’d begun carving her own way. Her father and brothers cut handsome figures in smartly tailored tuxedos. The only one missing was her mom, for whom she said a silent prayer. Champagne flowed into fragile stems and she didn’t know if it was the drink inducing the apathy—but she just didn’t feel… quite as high as she’d hoped. 

The crowd gave her a standing ovation. Billy Flynn asked in her ear if they could get dinner afterwards and she politely but firmly reclined. Posters of her were around every corner, billboards, television ads. She’d dutifully attended her press conferences with her costars, smiling her winning smile and keeping her answers cool and concise. They ate up her every word, and yet something was missing. It just felt like her entire world had shifted and she was only a few millimeters off course, but dizzied and stranded, nonetheless.

*

Francesca peeked out of her little townhouse to see paparazzi had indeed made their way to her. Someone must have followed her home, or maybe even a nosy neighbor had sold her address to the highest bidder. She closed her curtains and rang up Dominick.

“Tell her I’ll do it. But I’m paid more than him and I want you there with me.”

“Of course, that’s just a start. What else?”

She loved him to pieces. He was like a father to her, an older brother type. He’d doted on her for a while now, respecting her. Taking her seriously. She’d had a handful of people, agencies that she’d tried venturing through, but upfront costs and greedy intentions without a care to her growth as an actress: hard pass. Dominick always made sure to look out for her first and foremost before even thinking about taking his cut. The total opposite to that squirmy Parker that followed in Elvis’s shadow. 

“That I… hmm,” Well, she had to think about that, demands didn’t come easy to her in this regard, and she thought for a moment before saying without preamble, “And what do you think about hiring a private investigator?”

“For whom exactly?” He didn’t sound averse to the idea in the slightest, asking it like what she wanted for lunch. 

“I want them to watch Elvis, more specifically, his associates. I don’t want dirt on them, I just want to know if someone is following me.” Messing with me. She wasn’t about to be harassed on set behind the scenes by someone too cowardly to show their face. If Elvis really was half as hurt as she was about their separation, then maybe someone else was doing the dirty work for him. 

There were coincidences and then there were carefully laid plots. 

“Alright, Frannie. I’ll get somebody on him. Someone real low key.” He switched ears with the phone, telling her, “You were amazing in Fury. I want you to know you did a good job. I’m proud of you. And your premiere was fabulous. You were lovely in that dress. The after party, though I couldn’t attend, I hear was wonderful.”

She smiled. “It was nice seeing you again. When can I see the little ones? I know Gracie is getting to be a big girl now.” Grabbing the coiled cord around her finger, she gazed out onto the little street she’d grown used to, the glass lamps casting a warm glow on the sidewalk.

“We’ll all come visit you again, I promise. You get some rest now. I hear you got a big movie coming up.”

*

Elvis couldn’t believe this was really happening. His circumstances, while fragile in a way, were a blessing. He was almost in a daze while readying up for his private flight back to Las Vegas, to where it all began with her. 

Equal parts thrilling and nerve racking. He wanted to start where they left off. Start over? He didn’t know how to approach her. He knew how he wanted to, but he had to see what it was that Francesca wanted. Still ready to give it all to her, he contemplated seeing if her old apartment was open for rent, but even he would admit that was going too far. Suddenly, his feet felt like lead. He missed California as soon as he left the plane.

Colonel Parker was simmering the entire damn time, tapping his foot, hands steepled in his lap while he stared straight ahead. Not partaking in any of the drinks or cigars, just simmering. He’d absolutely exploded when Elvis told him bluntly that this wasn’t a request, or a plea, it was a statement, a notification that: Yes, he absolutely would take the opportunity to finish this masterpiece with her. Just seeing her again, dancing and singing with her again would all be worth it.

“You’re making a huge mistake. Biggest mistake of your life.” Parker had seethed, roaring at him over the phone that this was the most disrespectful thing he’d ever done. But Elvis just didn’t see it that way. 

The boys thought he was a little crazy but doing the right thing. Except Joe, who was wary of Frannie’s influence over him. Elvis rather liked that influence, and that perfume she always had on. What’s that one, Chanel? Nina Ricci? He bought her another, crystal pink as her other one. She’d tilt her head to the side in that elegant, bird-like way and spritz her lithe neck, her chest.

He needed to see her as soon as possible. He’d been working up the courage to see her new movie, but something in him just resisted the idea. The posters said that her outfits and her dance moves might drive him up the wall for weeks, not that she didn’t already have him still besotted with her. Even when he tried to shack up with other women, he couldn’t stay with them if he didn’t think of her, her beautiful heart shaped face, rosy cheeks and dark, shining hair. She was an angel, breaking his heart into a million tiny pieces. Stirring around the dust with her heel a little bit just to get the point across.

But when he saw her on set for the first time, past the crew, past the cameras and curtains; he forgot all about his pain, at least for a brief second. Her hair had grown a bit. She had on a stunning black sundress and white heels. Her loveliness a knife in his heart. He watched her float amongst the rest, daintily reintroducing herself to familiar faces. Cassandra wouldn’t do with a handshake and yanked Frannie into a hug, squeezing her tight with a few hardy pats to the back, telling her, “You don’t know how wonderful it is to see you.”

Francesca’s eyes met his and he saw something in her face that looked like hope. She inhaled. He watched her chest rise and fall. She grabbed at the pearls draped over her collar, fingering their gleaming beauty. He’d given them to her.

His heart skipped. Soared. He didn’t know whether to give into the relief or remain entirely on edge, because this would be too good to be true. Francesca, still pining for him even after she’d dumped him hard and fast. Maybe it was his fault for not pushing harder for their publicity. Did she think he didn’t want to be associated with her? He knew her cut was above the rest, she really was a superior actress compared to so many he’d seen or worked with. Mitzy was a clueless but buoyant young girl and he did wish her the best. But just being near Frannie on set was a breath of fresh air.

“Chess,” he acknowledged. I see you.

Her eye contact did not break, even as her face softened, her expression puzzling him. “Elvis Presley. What a pleasure it is to work with you again.”

“I can only say the same, my dear.” He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her heavy, until her knees were weak and she was clinging to him. She was gorgeous.

Cassandra laughed, albeit a hint nervously as she watched them interact. She clapped, saying, “Okay, so, we’re just warming up today, getting the lighting back in place, the camera back in place. I honestly thought about just splicing the thing and keeping in the bits that did make it, intertwined with whatever we film over the next few days, but, I think it would be a better idea to just film the entire last duet together once more, from the top. Fresh, clean, and guarded, because god dammit I’m paying someone overtime to stay here and guard this film reel personally.” She was intense, absolutely bringing her A-game to the table. She was a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be.

And so was he.

Before he could muster the courage to knock on her dressing room door, assuming she was even in there, he ran into Eddie, who’d grown out his hair a little bit since he’s last seen him. He was even sporting a little bit of a beard, looking more like a grown man than the kid he’d been months ago. 

“Eddie! It’s good to see you again!” Elvis embraced him warmly.

“You still owe me dinner. My dad says that I’m crazy. That I’m not friends with Elvis Presley, that I’m just pulling his chain.”

Elvis grinned. He had promised him that, hadn’t he? “Well, a man’s only as good as his word. So, what’s the address and when’s the food gonna be ready?” It’d been a long time since he’d last had a home cooked family style meal that wasn’t served up at a restaurant. Or whipped up by one of the fellas in a drunken, but generous, stupor. 

Francesca, who wasn’t in her dressing room at all, but readying to head out the door, overheard their conversation. He knew this because she was looking right at him when he glanced her way. He could practically feel her eyes on him. If only it were her silky little hands climbing him instead.

Winning her back was his ultimate goal, other than of course, putting on one hell of a show.

The next day, when filming finally commenced and Francesca was in that dress, his eyes were magnetized. Long legs that went on for miles, led straight to heaven. Where he’d once been invited.

And the way she was looking at him, even while trying her best to avoid being alone with him, he knew that some part of her still desired him. He just needed to stoke the flame. He knew her well enough. The things that made her sigh and moan. If she’d just give him a chance to show her again, how he was just perfect for her and she, him.

But he couldn’t see the forest for the trees and nearly fumbled his first few practice steps with her. Beat for beat, he slowly acclimated back, finding the rhythm like it was second nature. Muscle memory. Hopping back on the horse, he rose hard, never disrupting his gaze from the one thing that meant the most to him: her approval. And, well, obviously her. But he needed her to see, he hadn’t lost the memory of their dancing duet together.

One part of the song had him running after her for a brief second before lifting her up by her slender waist onto the top of the piano his character had always played solo. Her eyes were glittering from the prop lights and with flecks of something else as she looked at him.

Cassandra nearly forgot to call scene when the two of them were done, chests heaving as they panted. Their bodies were rigorously taut and spent as if they’d made love. She was heart achingly beautiful and she still didn’t acknowledge him the way he needed her to.

When they were finished, she parted from him as cool as the change of season. Spring pushed into fall, and he shuddered, watching her leave him near effortlessly. But on her way out, when she kissed cheeks and signed a few crew autographs, she glanced back at him over her shoulder. Batting her glamorous lashes at him, like a matador waving a red flag. He pursued, giving chase like never before.

It was one thing to be scorned, but another to be ignored. He just couldn’t stand not being under her guise. It ate at him more than if she just rebuffed him.

Today, things were serious. Cassandra had implied rather overtly that this portion of filming wasn’t supported by any generous backers, but from her own pocket. The cast, the crew, she was investing herself into this film more than ever. It only made him all the more confident that he’d chosen the best passion piece.

*

Colonel Parker always occasionally visited Elvis on set before, but now he was heavy handed, coming every day, sometimes staying for the entire duration of filming even though he’d tried dismissing him.

“Don’t you get bored watching us practice?”

“I’m just looking out for my number one guy, Elvis.”

Eddie was incredibly jittering, having to be scolded twice about the lights being off center. He apologized profusely. The previous night, Elvis had finally made good on his promise to have dinner at the young man’s house. It was a charming little factory home on the other side of the railroad tracks. Small, modest, but very well loved. It was cozy and reminded him of home.

Upon seeing the pair walk in, Eddie was the first one to be greeted, wrapped warmly in hugs. His father had to look once, twice, three separate times before he realized whom he laid eyes on.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

“Harold, not in front of our guest,” Eddie’s mother chided, elbowing her gobsmacked husband. She offered out her hand, shiny from cooking with grease. The smell of something delicious wafted out from behind them.

Sitting down at the too large dining room table in a house that did smell slightly of cigarettes, Elvis was treated to some of the best Mississippi roast he’d ever forked into his mouth. And Eddie’s mother, Glenda, was overjoyed to have company, let alone Elvis Presley, who they asked a bevy of questions. The typical ones that he’d answered dozens if not hundreds of times.

“What’s your favorite concert you’ve done?”

“What’s the best town you’ve been to?”

“Do you think you could help tune my old guitar, it just doesn’t sound right and these old ears aren’t what they used to be.”

Elvis was more than delighted to zoom in the scope of his understanding of the world, to fine tune his vision to see into these little domestic bits. Eddie’s parents, fawning over their beloved only child, their older age belying the struggle he must have been to conceive. They proudly showed off Eddie’s camera collection and all the places he’s been to recently. But when Glenda cheerfully went to open Eddie’s photo proofing room, a large utility closet he’d renovated, Eddie eagerly flattened his palm against the door, insisting that the light would ruin his set up. And besides, they were just “boring naturescapes”.

On set, his uneasiness hadn’t diminished and Elvis was surprised to find he was worried about the kid. But today, he had to have a laser focused mindset. No distractions. 

When Francesca walked upon the stage, as graceful and goddess-like as ever, Elvis offered out his hand to her and they got down to it. Hot and fast, one, two, three, four. Twists, turns, hip dips that had him feverish. He burned that heat with her, feeling it flare between them. Her hand touched his face, her eyes pooled into his. Her body was perfectly in sync with his; tandem movements in absolute perfection.

Cassandra was stunned. “That’s it people. We got it.”

The crew, overjoyed to have been reunited for a marvelous feature, cheered for the couple, breathing laboriously after their round. Her hand was still in his and she smiled at him, that old Frannie smile that he couldn’t get enough of.

When he finally found a moment alone with her, after weeks of simply being in her presence, Elvis didn’t hold back his feelings. It was the dark aisle behind the set, the both of them still soaring from that performance. It was unspoken between them that that had been it. Flawless. When this movie premiered, he couldn’t help but feel that they were pushing their project out into the world. But it wasn’t just a movie they were starring in, it was a movie made for them, even Cassandra said so, telling them, “You two were electric before. But whatever that was just now. Lighting in a bottle, babes. Don’t let it go, cause you two have got it.”

They did have it. He just needed to remind Francesca. 

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” He asked her honestly. Did she have any idea? By the look in her tragic face, he knew the answer. She didn’t just have an idea, she knew exactly how he felt. It filled him with pride, he wanted to shout. Her feelings for him hadn’t waned. Just reigniting the flames was all it took. His burned out of control. 

Francesca did not pull away from him. She turned her head to half-heartedly avoid his kiss. And breathlessly she told him, with her fingers pressed against his lips, with her face growing warm from his nearness, “Elvis, we can’t.”

“But we can. We absolutely can, Chess,” he said, sealing that assertion with a kiss. He didn’t care who saw. Maybe she did, but right now, all he could think about was her and closing the gap between them. He only felt far from her, letting her push him away. But here, she instantly melted against him, if only for a fleeting second.

Elvis felt her shiver. He felt the chills breaking across her flesh when he rubbed her arms. He kissed her deeper, tilting her head back, drinking her. The taste of her, the feel of her against him. Her hands curled against his waist, hooking into the belt loops and easing him towards her.

“You missed me, admit it,” he teased, pushing her buttons, testing his limits with her already. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see her frustrated, suffering, but not with pain—with desire.

Francesca peered out the window of the limousine and gasped, sitting straight back in her seat. “Good God, that’s a lot of people.” A hundred or so on either side of the red carpet, dozens and dozens more spilling out onto the streets. She’d never seen so many people or so many cameras in one place. 

Their car was two behind and she anxiously awaited the slow roll, watching Cassandra exit the car with her friend, a lovely tall blonde woman who Frannie recognized. When it was their turn to exit the limousine, Francesca steeled herself. Put on her best Hollywood smile.

Elvis clasped her hand. “You and me, Frannie.”

Once out into the limelight, she was stunned at the turnout of people. There were fans with signs that said all sorts of fanatical things, “Marry me, Elvis!” “I love Elvis Presley!” “Let’s Gamble on Our Love, Baby!”

It was amazing, the sheer amount and this wasn’t a broadly advertised event amongst the public. He simply had that many devoted fans, pining for his attention. And he was walking her through a cheering crowd, with her arm looped under his. He led her with propriety, like he was her husband. And she could feel them noticing, eyes tracking her. Pictures of him and her were held anxiously out, blank books for them to sign. There were fans asking for hugs, roses were being tossed at them. 

This felt like a dream. It felt like what she wanted a red carpet premiere to feel like. She and him were the center of attention. Paparazzi were flashing cameras, bulbs popping like a summer thunderstorm with their frequency. She just smiled, telling herself not to lean against him, no matter how good it might feel. God, he smelled so good right now, she could just take a bite out of him. Control yourself, Frannie.

It was certainly hard when he was resting his knee so close against hers on the ride here. Why she insisted in the first place, she wasn’t entirely sure. Whether to have a chance alone with him, or simply for the fanfare factor of the acting couple stepping out together. Which had paid off, seeing as the crowd was still screaming excitedly behind them as they made their way into the marvelous theater.

Francesca wanted the full movie experience and ordered a big bucket of popcorn for herself, or at least she tried to before Elvis butted in with his order, insisting on paying both their tabs. She argued but to no avail. He was always persuasive in ways she didn’t anticipate, charming but persistent. 

Elvis racked up on candy and excitedly sat down next to her, it was easy for her to notice that he was doggedly watching her, critically reading her every expression, every reaction to him. He was terrified he was going to mess up, wasn’t he? She felt a pang in her heart that he was so high strung while this was his big night just as much as hers.

Although, she couldn’t feel too bad for him, considering as of late, she was practically beating him off with a stick. He wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t relent. When she pushed, he pulled, when she retreated, he pursued. 

When she rebuffed him the last day of filming, after he’d racked her body with shuddering desire thanks to one of the most smoldering kisses he’d ever lain on her, he’d been perturbed exactly none. In fact, it was her own fault, letting him get her so wound up. She’d been clinging to him, rocking her hips into his to stem some of the tension pooling between her thighs. Elvis had a maddening effect on her and he absolutely knew it.

With his hand resting innocently, so innocently on her knee and her face as hot as the sun during Gambling on Your Love’s premiere, Francesca knew that she wasn’t over him.

[punkyflesh]

hooiiiii could i mayhaps get cedric with an s/o that very rarely laughs or smiles and maybe hearing them laugh or seeing them smile for the first time? thought that'd be super cute 👉👈

Cedric x Reader who rarely laughs or smiles

summary: you and cedric take a walk within the forest, and things take an unexpected turn for the best.

note: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for over a year… i am so sorry. this piece of writing is probably so mediocre but it’s my first in a while, so be nice to me!! punkyflesh actually posting??? wow!!

warnings: no warnings necessary. reader is referred to with neutral pronouns and indirect gender terms.

masterlist

Cedric the sorcerer had always been a man of few words. He was a solitary figure, - a ‘loner’, as some may say - spending most of his days kept to himself, holed up within the dark halls of his tower, studying ancient tomes and brewing potent potions. But despite his introverted nature, there was one person who had managed to break through his built-up walls and capture his heart — you. The sorcerer and yourself had met by chance one day, seemingly out of nowhere. Cedric had been collecting herbs within the castle’s greenhouse when he spotted you, standing alone in a clearing. You were unlike anyone he had ever met before, with a regal bearing and captivating presence. He had approached you hesitantly, unsure of how to address such a striking figure, but you both had instantaneously clicked the moment your eyes met and Cedric was completely head over heels, unprepared for the jolt of electricity your existence provided him with. From that moment on, Cedric had been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You would spend hours talking about magic and history, and the sorcerer soon found himself seeking out your company whenever he could. But despite your newfound closeness, Cedric felt as though there was a distance between you both. You were a serious person - beautiful and mysterious - never one to laugh or smile without good reason, and Cedric couldn't help but feel like he was missing something.

He attempted to make you laugh with his jokes and silly antics, purposely casting silly spells that would be sure to mess up, but you would only ever offer a polite smile or a small chuckle, never a real laugh. Cedric longed to see you truly happy, to see you light up a room with your laugh and let your guard down.

One day, you and Cedric were walking through the enchanted forest together, lost in conversation about the upcoming sorcery event that he had been ogling about to you for weeks. Cedric cherished your alone time together, and adored the way your eyes twinkled in the highlights of sunlight that bloomed through the gaps of the trees. The large volume of the trees created a roof over the forest, creating a darkness over the area - it was charming and peaceful, but the blindness offered issues for the rooted floors. As you were walking, your foot caught against an exposed tree root, causing you to stumble over and fall to the ground. Cedric gasped in worry, pulling out his wand in panic as he hurriedly rushed to your side, his heart racing with concern.

But as he helped you up, something miraculous happened. You looked up at him with a glimmer of amusement in your eyes, and before he knew it, you were laughing. It was a beautiful, melodic sound, like the tinkling of bells in the wind. Cedric felt a sudden surge of joy rush through his veins and amazement at the sound, and he couldn't help but laugh along with you. For a moment, you both kneeled against the lush floor, laughing together in the forest. It was a moment of pure, unbridled happiness, and Cedric felt like he was seeing the world in a new light. As the laughter began to die down, you wiped away a tear that had escaped from your eye, beaming up happily at your lover. Cedric couldn't help but smile back. He put away his wand and helped you up to your feet, taking your hand in his. "You look beautiful when you smile," he said softly.

His gentle words caused the colour to rush to your cheeks, as you blushed and looked away, embarrassed. Cedric gently lifted your chin with his nimble fingers so he could look into your eyes. "I mean it," he said. "You have a light inside you that shines brighter than any spell I could ever cast. I love you more than anything.”

As he saw your smile grow wider, Cedric knew that he had just witnessed a rare and precious moment. He vowed to do everything in his power to make you smile like this every day, to see that light in your eyes that made his heart sing.

As you walked back to the castle, hand in hand, Cedric couldn't stop staring at you. He had never seen you so carefree, so happy. It was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, and he couldn't help but feel like he was the reason for your newfound joy. You had brought a new sense of meaning to his previously lonely life, and he would make sure he relayed the same energy to you.

[sardonic-the-writer]

—failed recipie

SUMMARY | when quackity fails to make you a cake for valentines day, he's left with a mess in his hands, and your teasing

PAIRING | cc!quackity x reader

WORD COUNT | 1k+

WARNINGS | just sweet fluff! (pun intended)

AUTHORS NOTE | a valentines day gift for one of my friends hehe. hope you enjoyed!!!

🍰 Masterlist 🍰 Navigation 🍰 Rules 🍰

"Dude, I love you. I do. But if I have to sit here another twenty minutes and watch you fail to make a cake, I think I might go insane."

If there was one thing you had learned today, is that Quackity really was shit at baking.

You had been sitting patiently at a wooden table for some time now, a small smile tilting the corner of your lips up as you watched him rush around the kitchen.

Your comment was met with a groan from your flour-stained boyfriend. He simply sent you a glare from behind the makeshift piping bag he had crafted out of a zipblock bag, just getting a smile from you in response.

Quackity had always been mediocre at best when it came to baking—on stream or off. His efforts usually didn't turn out too bad, but they were no gourmet meal either. Put the man under pressure, though? Now that's the real recipe for disaster right there. You should know that thought. After all, you've been sitting at his kitchen table for about an hour now watching him eyeball measurements and undercook a cake so much it just looked like soup.

"Shut up you asshole." Quackitys attempt to bite back a remark at you fell short as a round of giggly laughter peirced through his words. "You can either eat the cake I'be so lovingly made for you, or I can have it alll to myself, pendejo."

"Hey, no offense to your baking skills, but I'd rather eat my own foot than try some of that expired looking frosting you're using there."

"It's—it's not fucking expired!" He threw his hands up with another wild smile just to go and rest them on his hips. With the pink apron he was wearing, he reminded you of an exasperated middle adged mom at the grill for just a moment.

"Oh yeah?" You tilted your head right back at him, barely biting back an amused smile. "What's the date on that milk you used to make it then?"

He rolled his eyes at you, waving his hand in the air dismisivly.

"Who needs to know a stupid expiration date. It's not like it could have been that bad anywa—oh shit."

One peak on the lable at the gallon of milk had him sprinting to the trashcan, practically throwing the cake he had slaved over into it.

"A month!? How can a gallon of milk just sit in our fridge for a month!? And stop—stop laughing at me! Asshole, you knew, didn't you!!"

You could barely shake your head no in response to him as you doubled over with laughter in your chair. You nearly lost it again when you went to gasp for air after seeing the pouty expression overtaking your partners face.

"Sorry for laughing Q." You said, sounding not very sorry at all. 6 just funy when you get flustered."

"Yeah well, so much for that valentines day suprise I was promising you." Quackitys arms crossed themselves over his apron clad chest gumpily as he made his way over to sit next to you, earning a pat on the shoulder from you.

"Hey. Dont worry about it. What's that thing old people say? That its the thought that counts?"

"Not helping."

"Sorry! Sorry." You snickered at the stinkeye he gave you. "Point is, I know you love me. But watching you run around our kitchen trying to make me what I assume was a cake just showed how much you really do."

Quackity scratched the back of his neck sheepishly when you were done speaking. You took the red tint on his cheeks as leftover embarassment from the little frosting fiasco, not noticing how the color had only surfaced when you started to rub your hand up and dwn the length of his back in small circles.

"So, youre not upset about the cake?"

"Nope." You popped the p at the end, making Quackity chuckle.

"Even if chat wasnt there to ruin it this time?"

"Definitely not."

"Oh thank god, becuase I've been wanting to order Chipotle all day."

Quackity laughed when you punched him in the arm, smiling as you let out a fake gasp of offense.

"How dare you Quackity. To think you were doing something nice for me, when all you wanted was a taco."

"Fuck off." He groaned with a smile before falling back into silence.

A beat of silence.

"But can we order Chipotle?"

"Yeah. I'll get the phone."

"Yesss."

[writing-rat]

Poe Cup Incident

Pairings: Enid x Wednesday

Content: Wednesday cant swim, Fluff, Wednesday is soft for Enid

Summary: Wednesday can't swim. Probably not good for the Poe Cup Incident.

It was the day of the Poe Cup race and Wednesday was rather excited for it. She was ready to beat Bianca again this year. She was currently in the tent with Wednesday and Yoko as they were getting dressed into the costume. This time it was going as dogs per Yoko’s request. Wednesday backed it up as well as Enid so there was no complaints from anyone. The ears were put on as well as everyone wearing the collar minus Wednesday. She didn’t want to and Enid was respectful of that. Everyone was eventually ready to walk out, Wednesday having that determined look on her face. “Should we get going now?” Yoko asked the 2 to which they were nodding. Enid was bouncing on her feet excitedly while Wednesday walked out calmly, ignoring the stares of everyone and glanced at Bianca. 

“Good luck fish,” she spoke to Bianca who glared at the shorter female. “Bad luck to you too, shortie,” Bianca retorted back before she was wandering over to her own kayak. Wednesday, Enid and Yoko proceeded to go into their own and was prepared, Thing hiding in the boat already. They would have the same tactic for Kent like last year. Wednesday was directly behind Yoko while Enid was at the front. Enid was the strongest due to her werewolf strength as well as her starting to work out. Wednesday was the next strongest but she thought she should go to the back to keep an eye on everyone. Enid agreed. 

Once the gunshot went off, everyone immediately started to row, Wednesday keeping going as she was glancing over at Bianca, knowing she was the main threat of everyone. Enid was glancing over at Ajax’s team, knowing they would be easy to beat, mainly because everyone was stoned. Wednesday held her own smirk as she was noticing that they were going as fast as Bianca’s boat, maybe even faster. She was preparing to allow the knives out once she noticed how they were going over. That was at least until there was an audible crack from under the boat. They were outplanned, Kent was sent to leave early and he had an axe it seemed. That was the last thing Wednesday saw before the boat was split in half and the water was stealing her away from Enid.

One thing she neglected to say to everyone was that she couldn’t swim. She was panicking slightly, not that she’d say. She was soon at ease, trying to swim up but was failing. Meanwhile Kent was distracted by Ajax’s team which were easily pushed away and destroyed. Wednesday soon closed her eyes, ashamed she was going to die in a mediocre way, and also when her last words to Enid were ‘we will win’. 

Meanwhile Yoko and Enid made it to the island coughing, before Enid noticed one thing. Wednesday wasn’t there. “Fuck! Wednesday?” She called out loudly, starting to panic. Yoko widened her eyes. 

“I think I saw her going to the bottom but I’m not sure,” Yoko admitted as she was rubbing her glasses and quickly put them on. “My eyes burnt, I’m sorry,” Yoko apologised. “It’s fine. I’m going to get her,” Enid reassured before she was quickly underwater again, keeping her eyes open. Meanwhile Yoko was on the side pacing when Bianca’s boat came. 

“What’s going on babe?” Divina asked immediately. “Wednesday is underwater still, Enid is going to get her,” Yoko explained. 

“Can she swim?” Bianca asked concerned suddenly, she didn’t want to hurt anyone, even Wednesday with their usual banter.

“I assumed she could,” Yoko spoke. Meanwhile Enid was swimming before she saw Kent. She was waving at him, to which he quickly swam over confused. He saw the urgency. She quickly went to get air as he followed behind her, helping her up. “What’s going on?” Kent asked almost immediately. “Wednesday is underwater still, don’t know if she can swim. Can you get her?” Enid rushed out, to which Kent widened his eyes and nodded. As soon as he nodded he was down. Eventually he was back up with Wednesday, who was unconscious. She was soon on the ground quickly before Enid was doing CPR, and mouth-to-mouth. The sirens meanwhile went to Larissa Weems to mention what happened and to bring medical help. 

Eventually Wednesday’s eyes opened as she was looking around dazed and confused, hearing beeping noises. Slowly sitting up, she looked around and yawned before she realised what happened and groaned, knowing people knew. That’s when she felt a gentle slap on her arm. “Why didn’t you say you couldn’t swim?” Asked a tired Enid immediately before Wednesday was hugged tightly. “I don’t tend to say my weaknesses,” Wednesday responded. “You know that mon loup,” Wednesday added on. Enid then hugged Wednesday tight, and was practically getting onto the bed. “You are so dumb,” Enid stated, letting her tears out. “I don’t ever want to lose you babycakes, you know that,” Enid added on more after a bit. Wednesday proceeded to grasp her chin, looking at her before she was kissing her gently. Enid proceeded to kiss back, holding her sides as she was rubbing them. Wednesday smiled more.

“You won’t ever lose me,” Wednesday stated. “Now sleep love, you need it.” Enid nodded, cuddling up to the shorter girl before soft snores could be heard. Wednesday could get used to this.

[sincerelylivvv]

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: rafe is at a total loss when he finds out you're sick; the thought of losing you was once something he constantly avoided, but now is the only thing on his mind

warnings: reader is dying, some language, mentions of religion

wordcount: 2,796

a/n: based on the song 'pray' by sam smith. it's not specified exactly what the reader is dying from, but yknow, she is dying. feel free to leave some feedback! if possible, i may write a another part. if you have any requests, send them in! and super sorry if this is hard for anyone to read, if you are uncomfortable, please do not feel the need to continue reading. If you would like to be tagged in any future fics, just let me know. I love all of you

I'm young and I'm foolish, I've made bad decisions I block out the news, turn my back on religion Don't have no degree, I'm somewhat naïve I've made it this far on my own

Rafe Cameron was no stranger to being alone. He learned at a young age that you can't depend on anyone fully; there's always someone wishing ill on you and then waiting to kick you when you're at a low point. Through the years, he's turned to not-so-healthy habits to cope with how shitty his life was. He was young, careless, stupid. But he figured how much shittier can his life actually get? He dropped out of college, his family hated him and even his friends grew to have a certain distaste for him.

He remembers how his family used to attend church on Sunday mornings. When he was a kid, he'd be in a different section of the church with others close to his age. They'd participate in whatever activity was going on at the time and through the couple hours they were there, would be given snacks to keep them from going hungry.

Through all of the poor decisions he's made, he was still content with himself. He made it this far on his own and knew he could go farther if he pushed himself enough. He never was the kind of person that would back down from a challenge. His now? To become someone his father could say he was proud of. Or at least a person that didn't cause distaste within his toxic family.

He thought heavily about leaving the island, thinking a new start would be good for him. A different place with different faces; people who know nothing of him than what he let them know. He could go back to college or maybe start a job straight off the bat, which may be a better option for him due to the circumstances he finds himself in. He doesn't have much money, no one to confide in, and no certain direction to go in.

Until he met you. You were the daughter of a multi-millionaire businessman. Your dad first started out small, starting a mediocre landscaping business, and eventually had the opportunity to go to college. After majoring in both business and communications and secured a job on Wall Street. He then went on to start a chain of five-star hotels located throughout the country, and eventually sold his landscaping business. He met your mom after she applied to work at one of the hotels and the rest is history.

He met you at a party. You and your parents were on vacation and staying in the house your dad bought as a gift for your mom. He remembers how excited and at ease you were, with a cup of the spiked juice in your hand. Your hips were swaying along to the beat of the music, laughs tearing out of your throat in utter joy; and he was captivated as soon as he saw you.

He wished he could say he was the one to go up to you, but that wasn't how it turned out. You and your friends had been walking towards the drinks, which just so happened to be close to where he was standing, and in a complete accident, you knocked his drink out of his hand when walking by him.

"Shit! I am so, so sorry about that," you rush apologetically. "I wasn't watching where I was going, and God everything is kinda swaying right now. I can go grab you another drink-"

"Nah, don't worry about it." He smiles. "Accidents happen. And you look a little past the point of tipsy. No offense."

The laugh that tore out of your throat made his stomach flutter; it was beautiful and graceful and everything he was the exact opposite of. "Trust me; none taken," you grin back.

But lately, that shit ain't been gettin' me higher I lift up my head and the world is on fire There's dread in my heart and fear in my bones And I just don't know what to say

That moment on the beach was the moment he knew he wanted you; forever and always. It was the start of a beautiful and bountiful relationship, which he was by no means accustomed to. He was used to short-lived relationships, more so hookups, so this was all to him.

You caught on to that pretty early on, as hard as Rafe tried with you, he fell a little short sometimes. But he did try really hard, there were just those few key tells he had that made you contemplate whether he had ever been in anything serious before. And eventually, it was brought up in conversation, and just like you had thought, he had never done anything like this before. Not that it bothered you; relationships weren't easy, especially if you were new to them, but you were patient with the boy.

Though he had bad trust issues, he grew to learn how to open up with you. You were there for him no matter what; always so kind and understanding with everything he talked to you about. It was strange for him, unfamiliar. But he was grateful nonetheless.

The day he found out the news hit him like a train. And though he thought he knew what panic attacks were, which maybe he did, he never had one as bad as this. His vision became very narrow with black spots clouding his eyes every now and then, and the world around him was both moving too fast and too slow all at the same time.

It hurt you to tell him, but it hurt him even more knowing there was nothing he could do to help. All you've done for him, and he would never have the chance to give back to you.

You tried your best to stop the sniffles that came from you, desperate to hide the sadness that was written on your face. Your hands cradled his, warm and soft over ones that were rough and brittle, and you gently pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do, Rafe?" Your voice was quiet and calm, and Rafe sat shocked at how you could be so relaxed.

"How are you so…so at ease when you're-" His voice breaks, sobs quickly pouring out from him.

"Oh, Rafe." You maneuver to sit on his lap, thighs on either side of his, and your head now lying on top of his own as his tears wet the sweatshirt you're wearing.

His clammy hands cling to every inch of you, desperate to hold on to you for as long as he could. Maybe if he held you long enough, you wouldn't leave. The both of you would carry on as if you wouldn't be gone in a few months, and the pair of you would do what he dreamed of doing with you.

But that wasn't the case, you would be gone, and a part of him with you. He wondered what he did to have such heartache brought on him, to have the only good thing in his life taken from him and would be forced to move on as if you weren't gone. As if he was still whole.

"It'll be okay, Rafe."

Maybe I'll pray, pray Maybe I'll pray I have never believed in you, no But I'm gonna pray

Rafe never would have thought he'd be back in the church he grew up in. But he thought if there was a God, maybe He would have some empathy and listen. The both of you started going together in the beginning; it took you off guard when he asked you about going, but again, you wanted nothing but to support him. Eventually, you got too sick to go. So, two then became one.

He never prayed so hard. In fact, he never prayed at all. Even when he was forced to go as a child, he never prayed. But he wanted to keep you here and all to himself. He knew it was selfish, but he came to the decision that he never was one for selflessness.

It was after a Sunday service that he thought he'd stop by to see you. Stepping out of his truck, he approaches the door to your house with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. First, he heard your dog bark, little Daisy, and then he was met with the warm eyes of your mother.

"Rafe!" The woman exclaims, joy radiating from her body. "Come in, come in," She ushers him inside. "How've you been? Y/F/N told me you were thinking about working for the company."

Rafe nods, "Yeah, we've been talking about it. I guess it'll…I don't know, depend on how I am after-" He stops and the woman in front of him flashes a sad, knowing look.

"Of course," She agrees. "No rush at all. There will always be a place for you. You have my word." She gently pats his shoulder, and all is quiet for a few moments before she makes a 'tsk' sound. "Well, Y/N is in her room, for now. She's been asking to go on a walk around the garden for a while. Maybe you could join us," She proposes.

"Yeah of course," Rafe smiles. "Mind if I go see her?"

Rafe's brow cringes and his shoulders drop. "Yeah," He mumbles. 'I know the feeling,' he thinks.

"Well, best not to keep her waiting." Your mom motions to the steps.

You had been staring out the windows of your room when you heard the light knock on your door, and before you could even speak, Rafe pokes his head into the room. "Mind if I come in?" He grins.

Your tired face lights up upon seeing him, and with rapid nods of your head, Rafe makes his way over to you.

"Pretty flowers," You comment. "Who're they for?"

"A pretty girl," Rafe answers and lands a swift kiss on the crown of your head. He pulls away and smirks cheekily at you. He then bows his head once more and begins peppering light kisses over your face, basking in the giggles that flew from your mouth.

Eventually, he presses one last kiss to your lips before pulling away once more, sitting down the flowers he once held on the nightstand beside the hospital bed your father had put in your room.

He sighs as he sits down in the chair beside you. "How you doing, sweet girl?"

You do your best to shrug, "I'm doing good. A little tired." You try to smile, but Rafe is quick to notice the twinge of pain that briefly crossed your face.

His eyes dance across your face; your color has dulled slightly, and your eyes are heavy and defeated. "I'm sorry," He finally says. "Your mother told me about your walk today, though. That's something to look forward to." He's fast to change the subject, not wanting to think about how bad you're doing and how broken he is at the sight of you. He hates seeing you in such a state; a girl who was once so full of love and life and everything pure in the world was now lying sick in a bed.

You grin a little, "Yeah, I'm excited. I've been dying to get out of this bed." You then wince at your words, "Yikes, bad joke," you attempt to laugh it off upon seeing the flash of pain across your boyfriend's face. "Well, um will you be joining us?"

Rafe chuckles, grabbing onto your hand and rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. "Wouldn't miss it."

I'm not a saint, I'm more of a sinner I don't wanna lose, but I fear for the winners When I tried to explain, the words ran away That's why I am stood here today

Rafe knew he wasn't that great of a person; not one anyone would go out on a limb to save, but he still had a sliver of hope that some miracle would save him from the nightmare you and he were facing.

Every night and every Sunday morning, he gave his best shot at asking, begging, God to save you. He always talked about knowing he didn't deserve such a huge ask, but that you, at the very least, deserved something better than this. He would include all the plans he still had with you; proposing and getting married, having kids, spending the holidays with you, but above all, growing old with you.

He hoped that his plea would at least sway someone enough to pull through will a miracle; he had even stated a few times that he would be more than willing to take your place. Just as long as you stay and you're happy.

His pleas of hope and desperation are the only reason he's always stood firm in that church that he hated so much There wasn't enough money in the world to make him go to church, but that was before he met you. And it was sure as hell before the revelation that he was gonna lose you one day and there was nothing he could do about it.

Won't you call me? Can we have a one-on-one, please? Let's talk about freedom Everyone prays in the end Everyone prays in the end

Rafe was beyond angry.

He recently found out from your father that you were only getting worse, and the doctor that had been taking care of you revealed that there wasn't anything more that could really be done

So all that time he spent praying for you? He got nothing out of it.

Sometimes, he thought that it was kind of funny how he once begged his father for things, most small, but never got it, and then had to beg and plead with someone else for your well-being and still didn't get anything.

The most recent night he saw you was the worst. You looked bad before, but now? You looked terrible. Your face began sinking in, arms and body became smaller due to you not eating much. And even when you did, you threw most of it up.

You hardly talked now. You were always somewhat quiet but still knew how to have a loud, breathtaking presence. That wasn't the case anymore, though; you were hardly ever awake, on account of you not having much energy, and when you were, you wouldn't say much. Usually just a quiet 'hi' and then would look out your window.

It killed Rafe to see you in such a state. To not be able to have a conversation like he used to. But he learned that while you may not be willing or able to talk, you still enjoyed listening to him. He told you all about the apartment he was able to get, with the help of the job your father gave him, and how he got a dog he named 'Posie', and even brought in pictures of her to show you. She was an older King Cavalier Charles Spaniel, and almost completely deaf, but he loved her, and so did you. Sometimes, he'd even bring her over for a playdate with Daisy, which always brought a brighter look to your face.

He didn't know what particularly triggered it, but he finally, completely and utterly, broke down. On the floor of his bedroom, heavy breaths and thick tears fell all too quickly. It was the type of crying that went from loud, heart-wrenching sounds to nothing at all. And with all the strength he could muster up, he begged, unknowingly for the last time, for someone to help you. This time, not specifying who, just someone bigger to help the sickness that still plagued you.

'Just a fucking one-on-one, please', He thought over and over again. The mantra was recounted in his head for what felt like forever, until he eventually fell asleep.

That was until he picked up the phone call, in which your mother finally told him you had gotten better, only to finish with the words, 'she passed during the night…in her sleep. I'm so sorry, Rafe.'

tagged: @scenesofobx @casualcloddeputyherring @x-lulu

[petrichoraline]

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

i did this some time ago but most answers are gonna be different so let's go!! thank youu, @fangirlmedstudentblog and @markpakin 💞

Three Ships

TinnGun - no surprises here, these two have become everyone's comfort couple so quickly

HiraKiyoi - again, not a shocker in the slightest, they are my insane comfort bfs

DaisyIntouch - in honour of opp's viral moment with The7's Get Loose i can't not mention the most gentle, sweetest couple in SCOY; i wish their arc was handled a bit better, it felt rushed by the end; they're amazing nonetheless

First Ever Ship

let's go with first bl ship (live action) which i beliiieeve is kenji and shiro from kinou nani tabeta? and if it's not them it might be junjae and takuya from the lover

Last Song

Last Movie

i procrastinated on this just so the answer would be worth it (cause i watched a mediocre french movie but mostly didn't pay attention and that didn't sound like a good answer); the movies i saw today instead of the indian movie im procrastinating on seeing:

She's Dating the Gangster (2014) - this philippino movie made me realise that netflix's "true love" category should've been called "heartbreak" but they renamed it so well

the intros and summaries truly suck because i thought i was going into a light "fake dating" romcom with a pair of cute silly teens as the leads! what i got instead was so sad and a tad bit melodramatic that at the end i didn't know how to feel.. i did cry though! i was hanging in there and yet it got me; it's a sweet movie, although it could be overwhelming, and i would recommend it! it's kind of my fave out of the three, i wasn't too sure how it was gonna end too; one really strong point is the sweet twist on the makeover trope that the movie doesn't even use to promote itself, it's kinda naturally in there and it made me so happy

Jumping From High Places (2022) - this italian romantic-but-more-about-self-growth movie about a young woman with anxiety was not technically confusing but it had me bored halfway through (again, the sample video thingy netflix shows had an energy that imo was not there throughout the film, i found it misleading); i'm just happy i picked up on smth that is probably supposed to be a surprising reveal hehe; i wouldn't not recommend it, i feel like it could be relatable and a sweet experience for some

Your Place or Mine (2023) - a typical hollywood movie, what can i say, it's been pushed onto me and i was kinda interested, gonna lie if i say the cast wasn't a part of the reason i caved in (i'm curious bout what kutcher and witherspoon are doing now, yeah);

i think it's kinda bland, it had some good sentiments but at the end i found the female lead too unlikeable and the story kind of stretched out and a bit rushed at the same time (maybe it was actually well paced and a proper length, just not my thing, that's possible. the gray overlay (?) was so depressing though, even her bright and green home felt awfully unwelcoming)

Currently Watching

literally only My School President lol everything else is in either "on-hold", "plan to watch" or "have to catch up on!!"

Currently Reading

oh how i want to say svsss vol.2 but i'm stuck once again, i mostly read long posts and student books, not even manga

Currently Consuming

"too much media at once in theory and not nearly as much in practice" is a valid answer, isn't it lol

Currently Craving

more convos w moots ig

i might be tagging people who have done it or don't like tag games, it's very hard to track these sometimes so sorry 🫶 @hello-n-goodbye @himbodelamain @soundgun @sillsif @jingyanwang @catwalkninja @catboyjosten @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas @chinzhillababy

[txtmetonight]

Me and My Husband

call summary ⋆ ★ You’ve had your lives' fulfillment of being contempt–or so you think. Because with Choi Beomgyu by your side, you ponder upon the thought a bit more than you should.  

pairing *. * Choi Beomgyu x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★  Angst, Fluff?

warnings *. * Misogyny, Drinking, Pregnancy, Bad Grammar, Crude grammar

call duration⋆ ★ 5.6k

a/n*. * I know that there are different interpretations of this song so this is mine. Also, I got inspired by the novel Kim-Jiyoung born in 1982. It's such a good book, I def recommend it. And kinda sorry for the end. I suppose I rushed it a bit. Anyways, hope you enjoy lol.

taglist ⋆ ★  @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed // @matcha-binz 

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

I steal a few breaths 

From the world for a minute 

Sigh. 

In a working economy, where prices were rising, and work employment was decreasing, you were able to stabilize yourself against the rising tides of the world. An eight-to-four job that consisted of going outdoors to capture the photographs your management team had assigned you to click or either staring at a high-tech screen, a large white cubicle littered with little stickers and important reminders surrounding you.  

It was a mediocre job that paid just well enough, but you were contempt. For now, at least. When you were old enough to really know what you wanted to be in the future, you would daydream about meddling in the medical field, and thinking about it further made you conclude that you wanted to take up a profession in psychology. 

But sometimes after a dose of too much beer, you wonder how you got to take up photography and you find yourself on the web, wobbly fingers searching up how much medical school costs before you’re thrown back into reality looking at numbers that made you dizzier.  

Your father and mother did their best to support you, but it was hard when your mother had your younger brother and house chores plus small work, she took up to make extra cash, and your father had to manage a small convenience store that did particularly well on some days. If someone asked you how your life was before college, you would respond with a monotone “It was alright”.  

Because honestly, it was. You shared a room with your grandma until she passed while your younger brother had his own, your school was far away and when it was cold you froze walking there, and your father and mother would fight for a while when he came home drunk. Yet still you lived a happy life, nevertheless.  

And over the years you’ve learnt several valuable lessons. First, when going an interview, it’s best to wear the brightest lipstick you’ve ever known, and your hair should be tied up to a high ponytail if you want to increase your chances of being picked, especially in an interview with other women. Though you probably won’t be picked, not when you find out that even a single man was also competing.  

Second, a good night of drinking after a long day is nice but don’t overdo it, or the already less pay you get will be cut slack from however many hours you will miss that morning.

And third, the best boy you’ve ever met will be on a class retreat to the mountains for the Badminton club during your college experience.  

A club filled with ten other male members and two other female members; served as a stress reliever after exam weeks and piling schoolwork. It was fun playing matches and though most members of the club reasoned that they were slacking off on you because you were new and not because you were a girl, you thoroughly enjoyed it.  

The retreat was a plan that was created on a whim, one second you were drinking wine with the girls in one of their dorms, and in the other, all fourteen members including you were on a bus driving up a steep road, playing some old nostalgic songs. Just days before, a new member had joined, and at first, he hadn’t piqued your interest as much, but when he helped you grab your duffel bag from the top, your gaze stayed on his face a bit longer than usual.  

Choi Beomgyu was born on March 13, 2001, he had AB blood, he housed a parrot named Toto and he had you wrapped around his finger by the end of the five-day, four-nights trip (which was a bit pricey for a bunch of college students). 

And on the last day of the excursion, he had kissed ever-so softly against the walls of the cabin, while everyone else was out at a lake.  

And then I'll be nothing forever 

And all of my memories 

And all of the things I have seen 

Will be gone 

With my eyes with my body with me 

“Sunghoon, was definitely holding an affair with that short girl from section three! Why’d you think they both keep leaving the break room together?” 

You strain a smile towards Kazuha and hold back a small exhale, instead focusing on the small strokes of color on your nails. A lilac shade. “I–I suppose? I don’t even know who the short girl is?” And after a second you add, “Nor Sunghoon. I don't even know Sunghoon.” Your heart thrums harder in your chest at the sudden emotional turmoil, that was honestly kind of stupid. But still, you laugh sourly, gazing at the girl through your lashes, her own lips dejectedly turning into a frown.  

“I had forgotten you had quit.” She quietly murmurs, taking the brush from your hands to paint your left hand. Her eyes wander over the expanse of your shared room, and they linger too long on a portrait of your husband by your bedside table, eyebrows furrowing at the familiarity of the object.  

You refuse to look, not when her face falls as she realizes with a tiny chuckle going back to your hands. It was a brown frame that held a picture that you took of your partner when you both were still dating (now married) and it used to sit near your mousepad, behind your daily cup of coffee, and in the small space you used to be offered.  

You and Beomgyu dated for five years, one year in your last years of college and the other four years while you both worked. And all those four years, you’ve kept that same picture of your lover at the same spot, and at the same time on the clock you would stare at his utterly handsome face before being hulled back to work yet again.

It wasn’t a lie that you missed your job, and you spent your time at the kitchen countertop mulling over it, now more than ever as you scroll through your co-workers' feeds and watch them with large, widened eyes as they post the carefully edited photos they had taken or just fun gatherings with their peers.  

That night you hold a staring contest with the ceiling of your bedroom, tracing the moving shapes your brain seems to formulate due to the pitch-black gloom. The presence of a warm body keeps you grounded as you wander to the depths of “what ifs”, just toeing that line before stepping back out in fear of a nasty wormhole that would bring you to tears.  

“Hey baby, why are you still awake?” 

An arm gets thrown over your waist while a voice tears you away just as you start to turn your attention to the blades of the fan above, and you look to your side to see Beomgyu having his eyes shut with his lips dangerously close to your neck.  

“I dunno, just thinking. How was work today?” Your question and just for a second you ease into his warmth, preparing yourself for a story time just like how you would when your mom was reading you a fairytale to help you sleep. Beomgyu goes silent for a second and you’re afraid that he’s drifted to sleep but he drowsily murmurs, “It was tiring. Mr. Kang made me do a stack of reports and read a bunch of blah blah blah”  

You scrunch your nose at his wording and envelop your fingers with the hand that’s placed on the skin of your stomach. “Is that so? Well, I wish that tomorrow is better, no?” He nods and gives you a small kiss on your cheek, eyelashes tickling your skin when he blinks. “I really hope...you would wish that for me, baby? You're so sweet. Today was probably easy for you, right? I too wish to take a couple of days off”  

He jokes before snuggling into you even more and you ponder how well he could cuddle a wooden board...because that’s what you are right now. Stiff as a board. You gulp and clutch his hands tighter to force your eyes to close. Your “job” at home was not easy. You had to make sure that the laundry was done, that the dishes were clean and that Beomgyu got his food on time because he was always grouchy after a long day at work.  

Exactly seven months ago, Beomgyu on behalf of you being his wife had told you to quit your job. You suspect that it was because of the pestering you heard over his phone when he doesn’t think you’re nearby, the voices of the people in his life wondering about your duties as a wife. But in his perspective, the job he was asking you to leave had you always complaining and coerced you to be awake until three sometimes. In your eyes it was boring-old work that you cherished, and the same job that you held many heart-felt memories of.

Perhaps that doesn’t matter when you must take care of your husband.  

And so, you had taken his decision to leave a resignation letter at your boss's desk just a few days after the talk. Many asked you if it was because you were pregnant, but you just smiled and shook your head, saying that your husband needed you. That day he had taken you out to a fried chicken place with soju on the side as a congratulations party that you were finally broken from your chains. You were finally a free bird.  

And the cries that you let out over the spicy chicken were a sign of pure happiness and not the distress that roared instead of your gut. 

But now as you lay awake, eyes slowly burning with heavy sleep, you promise yourself just for a night of peaceful sleep that all the things you’ve seen, all the memories you have about “work” will be gone on for your own sake.  

Being cooped up in the house, you decided to take a stroll outside after taking a peek at the window. It was a nice sunny day with a soft breeze that made you grab your coat before you headed out the door. Sporting a nice pair of shoes that your husband bought you over the weekend, you watch curiously as the sidewalks bustle with people. Cars honked and the chatter of the TV running bled through the walls nearby you as you strode by. It was a happy day, but the smile on your face doesn’t seem to cooperate as much as you try.  

But me and my husband 

We're doing better 

It's always been just him and me 

Together 

You try and try, but it twitches and turns, and you force yourself to cover it up as much as possible with your hands and with your gaze downwards. All your life, you’ve tried to reach for the stars and every time you came nowhere close, so how was this one error in your multitudes of malfunctions going to affect you. You know that you’re dented and bruised, and so you’re afraid...afraid of being left behind by Beomgyu as if you’re nothing when it’s just you two together. Because truly, you believe you are, even as much as your lover convinces himself that you’re not...just to make it better for the both of you. 

Nonetheless, you realize that it will always be him next to you, holding your hand, whether you like it or not. 

The cold wind picks up and you wrap your jacket around you tighter, but that doesn’t do much for the running goosebumps that trail down your arms. A familiar convenience store just down the road practically calls out for you as a shelter to hide from the biting cold, and so you jog through the sidewalk, hands shivering on the door as you open it.  

The bell on top rings. The cashier barely even looks up while you walk by, and you slip by past the younger woman to hide near the ramen section of the store. You were always amazed by the number of flavors and companies that this single food item held, the different sizes, colors, and levels of spice were always intriguing when you ran your fingers over the cartons of boxes, which ultimately stopped at a black box.  

In bold red colors, a small cup of your favorite ramen looks back at you. You freeze and let out a sigh. Then before you know it, you reason with yourself and snatch the cup into your hands. You used to eat this daily, dead at night with a computer in your lap and the sauce smeared all over your lips as your eyes gleamed distantly with a show played in the background.  

While you walked through the aisles, you caught yourself in the reflection of a bright window, eyes widening when you found a younger version of yourself smiling back at the windows. She’s pretty and youthful and smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her face is contorted into an expression of happiness, and you're bewildered when she winks at you.

The wrinkles on your face are practically non-existent on hers while she tilts her head, mouthing words you couldn’t hear. Your feet twitch to run up to the glass, to put your ear against it to hear her better but you don’t. Instead, you gape like a baffled fish. Something wet drips down your cheeks which slowly drips down her’s too.

You wonder why she’s crying so you reach up to your tears to wipe them away from the burning they leave in their way, and you expect her to do the same...except on her side, long fingers that don’t match yours slowly mop them away.

The background behind her which used to be transparent, materializes into something like your old dorm. And right behind her is him with his short brown hair and a sympathetic smile on his face. He croons at her, crouching by her side, slowly patting her head in a soothing manner. And suddenly, you feel as though your own hair is being ruffled, as though you can hear the soft humming and the feeling of warmth pressing into your back.  

It’s been a while. It’s been so long since you’ve felt such a comforting touch from him. You’ve fallen into a routine that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. So salty that it leaves you choking on your own saliva each time you try to gulp down your arising tears, in the bathroom. But you love him. You really do. And in the end, it’s just a husband, you suppose. Not your boyfriend. Only your husband.  

“That’s not fucking fair Beomgyu!” You scream, hands waving in the air like a madman. A volcano rumbles deep in your heart, aching to be released as if it just bubbles over the top. The man in front of you sucks in his lips, his eyes shaking at your outburst.

If you had sanity in you at that moment, you would’ve stopped at his trembling, or with the thought that the neighbors next door could hear your screeches (the walls were horribly thin). The skin on you reeks of frustration and despair. You don’t cry though. “I–I’ve had a hard day too!” He reasons, stepping closer towards you but stopping abruptly when you drag your foot backward. “

And so? You won’t spend it with me? Do you know how bad these two weeks have been for me? Did you even have a fucking hint?” His voice stills in his throat, choosing to stay silent with wide glossy eyes. He’s never liked to be yelled at; you’ve known that since he got scolded by his teammate in a badminton match and came back to you with a raw nose and ruby eyes that faded out near his pupils.

You furrow your eyebrows, and in a moment of actual hurt that he hasn’t said anything about you, your arms cover your chest. “Of course you didn’t. You never do” You whisper, voice cracking as you turn around to stomp back to your room. The door slams behind you when you collapse to the floor with blubbering sobs. You wail and wail and wail. Fingers itch at your face furiously, not letting a drop spill on the floor.  

You don’t hear the door slowly creaking open, nor the soft singing behind you but once you do, your heart stills in its rampage. The silence is loud as a pair of feet pad behind you, nuzzling into your head as his fingers crawl over to your neck, pulling you against his chest. “I don’t have an excuse.” Beomgyu starts off.

“But I promise you, that I’ll do better for you–for us. Because you deserve it more than anyone else. (Y/n), you deserve all the happiness in the world and much better so I’m sorry that you’re stuck by me”

He stops when he feels you shaking your head against him, but that doesn’t deter him too much when he finds the confidence to clean your face with the soft pads of his fingers, his lips now on your neck, just where your pulse beats against his mouth. “But please stay with me.” Beomgyu puffs.  

“By your side?” You ask, turning around in his arms when you couldn’t stand it anymore to watch an older version of yourself, crying heartbreakingly so in the reflection of your cerulean lampshade. Such a tragic sight, that you feel as though your guts are being arranged by the never-ending feeling of unexplainable doom.  “By my side. Nothing more or nothing less”  

You nod and the notion of perturbation and doubt fills the hollow gap of your beating organ–and all you’re hoping is that he’s right.  

The way that your mind thinks is quite twisted, you believe. Because you assume that you’re obliged to be Beomgyu’s side forever on–because frankly, it’s just you and him together.  

So I bet all I have on that 

Furrowed brow 

And at least in this lifetime 

We're sticking together 

Me and my husband 

We're sticking together 

Your mother-in-law was a pleasant woman with a charming smile and her husband–your father-in-law was a nice man who sported thick glasses during the many novellas he would devour on the couch. The first time you met them two was when it was a time between yours and Beomgyu’s relationship when you both were introducing each other to the other half’s family members and this time it was your husband’s time for a meet and greet at his house.  

They invited you inside and took the bouquet of lilies you brought for them, unlatching your hand-locked hold with Beomgyu as they both took a turn to hug you. They were warm and smelled like sugary vanilla, the mother having a hint of spicy red chilies sticking to her clothes.

Immediately she drags you to the kitchen for a bit of assistance while Beomgyu catches up with his dad. You furrow your eyebrows, because Beomgyu didn’t do that at your house when he came over. In fact, you found yourself in the kitchen again that same time. Was he supposed to help as a guest?  

At the dining table, they served you rich Jjajangmyeon that you ate a lot though it was salty and ever since then they all assumed that your mothers-in-law's Jjajangmyeon was your favorite dish.  

You’re brought back to that memory of the first-day meeting when you find yourself looking back at the black sauce in front of you. The two older adults sit in front of you, one is slurping up his food while the other sits with her hands in her lap followed by dialogue that she was waiting for her only child to start eating. But she tells you to start and so you do, trying to not let the saltiness reside on your tongue too much.  

“So (Y/n), when are you and Gyu going to have my grandson?” Soo-Young laughs nudging her husband to follow along too and soon enough you three are all awkwardly chuckling. You push around the noodles before bringing it up to your face. “I’m not sure. I don’t really want to carry a child as of now. I’m happy with Beomgyu just the way it is right now.”

For some reason your voice struggles at the word “happy” but you clear up the crack with a small cough, eyes darting back to your food. “Do you have a problem with your body that you can’t bear a child?”  

You’ve expected this very question, but your heart still drops at it. 

“I–I don’t. Me and Beomgyu aren’t trying right now” You’re ashamed, but you shouldn’t be. But you can’t help it when both parents don’t look convinced but rather disappointed. Anger flares for a mere moment. You’ve heard what their brothers, sisters, and cousins, have been saying about you both.

And in that very scene, you feel like you’re crumbling against their hard stares. You don’t want to bear a child, you just don’t! It’s too much for you now. Mentally and Physically. “Well, that’s good your body is healthy.” Your father-in-law's face hardens and his wife nods briefly before continuing her onslaught. “I hope you have a boy soon. It would be good for all of us”

She sends you a sweet upturn of her lips before she watches the door for its grand reveal, all while you’re internally panicking. The sweat rolls down your back and you play with the food on your plate.  

And I am the idiot with the painted face 

In the corner, taking up space 

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved  

You’re hopeless in situations like this. You never know what to say or what to do, and you’re so fucking pathetic that you can’t help but rely on others–on your husband. So, when Beomgyu bursts in through that door, with a bright smile on his face you feel your body melt and puddle against the chair.

The welcoming nod he sends towards you is just warming enough for you to unclench your jaws and hands. “You’re back” You whisper.... standing up in your chair while you hit your table against the surface of the table. Your husband loosens his tie and places his blue briefcase on the couch before he spares another look at you.  

“Careful honey didn’t know that you were this excited to see me” He quips while he rubs his hands, eyes closing when the stomach-growling scent of food slams into his nose. “Oh, Beomgyu how was work today?” His mom asks, leaving you to serve your husband with whatever he pleased at that moment, and he is happy to tell you exactly what he was craving at the dining table. “Not that bad, I didn’t have too much work today.”  

He sighs as he places a chaste kiss on your cheek, your eyelashes fluttering at the contact. The hysteria inside you has slightly died and it slowly seeps away as you watch your husband, your hand slithering to his to hold, but his hands move away before you can catch them.  

Your smile drops and the feeling intensifies deep inside you. 

Beomgyu sends you an eyebrow raise, lips smiling softly when you subtly shake your head towards the front door, and he gets the signal immediately before he immediately starts to chow down his food. Fingers twitching against your thighs, you stand up to distract yourself and head to the kitchen to grab Beomgyu some water.

You don't feel real for a second, honestly as though you were watching a perspective of yourself in a video game. The veins under your skin thrummed with buzzing nervousness as your eyebrows furrow, and you find your hands shaking as you fill up your husband’s glass, but everything is zooming in and out and the world around you is going round and round.  

“I–I” You mutter to yourself and before you know it, shards of sharp glass fly everywhere around your feet, bursting into a million diamonds once they touch the ground...and your feet. The soft tissue cracks open at a single deep slice, yet you don’t feel the burning pain where it should be.

Instead, you feel it in your throat where bile threatens to spill into your mouth, in your brain where it pulses erratically, your eyes that flit all over the place and your beating organ that stops for a second and then continues then stops then continues.  

Stop. Thump. Stop. Thump. Stop. Thump 

“(Y/n)?!” A pair of callous hands step over to your side, and you find yourself face-to-face with your mother-in-law, her face concerned as she leads you out of the mess. “I’m sorry” You whisper, whipping your head towards Beomgyu, who immediately rises from his seat and sprints to the bathroom.’ 

“Oh gosh, it’s okay” Her eyes dare to flicker to the penetrating wound. You don’t even try. Not when gravity could potentially pull those salty tears down to earth.  

It doesn’t take long for Beomgyu to find the first aid kit and bring it back to you, before he wraps his arm around your hand, pulling you up. “Beomgyu? Where are you going?” His mother demands, and you almost croak for them to stop, just leave you alone, but you don’t. Rather, you flop onto your husband’s side as he explains that he is just going to take you outside for a second.  

“(Y/n)’s still most likely in shock. Let her breathe some of the fresh air, it will do her good. I read it in an. article sometime back.” You’re not even sure what his mother says after to him but you’re being dragged with your other unharmed foot just right outside the porch, where he makes you sit in one the brown chairs that was placed for decor, and he...and he just sits on the ground, next to your dripping foot.

The smell of rust makes you gag into the crook of your arm, coughing violently as you try to let yourself up. “What’re you doing? Sit back down” He grabs your fleeting arm, looking into your eyes with an unexplainable glint.  “Ok” You mumble, and that’s all it took of him for you to obey, gently sitting back into the cushion of the seat.  

The silence consumes you whole, and you furrow your eyebrows struggling to breathe. Words that you want to spit out, lodge themselves in your trachea. Below you, Beomgyu carefully tends to your foot with a serious look imprinted on his handsome features. 

Drip. Drop.

Eyes shooting up to the ceiling, you ignore your husband’s pointed gaze on you, his working hands wet from the silent waterfall that streams down your face. “Baby...” He whispers, putting his cold hands around you, grazing your cheeks as he pulls you down to earth. You sniffle, wiping away your reddening nose,

“I don’t know if I want to stay here anymore?” You’re not sure why you’re questioning yourself when you knew for sure you itched to leave, every nerve inside burning in aflame in hopes of disappearing. “But why? We just came and you know how long it’s been since we’ve stayed over. Plus, today was the last day before my leave off... I had to drive forty minutes just to get here” He reasons, applying light pressure to your foot to stop the spurting of blood.

Your chest stutters at his words, guilt settling deep in your bones, but your lips don’t stop moving. They talk against your mind’s will.  

“I don’t want to have a kid.” 

Beomgyu’s still motion makes you sick to your stomach. “I see. Did my parents ask you about it?” He questions softly. “I suppose.” And finally, you find the courage in yourself to stare him in the staring eyes, wary of the slightest flutter of annoyance from him.

Yet he slowly raises his fingers, and pinches your cheek lightly, tugging it side to side while his lips turn full of a small smile. “If you don’t want to have one, that’s ok, love. But...you know that they’re right, we–we’ve been married for a while now. Don’t you want to start a family? I know I do.” 

You gasp, reaching for the escaping oxygen, “Bu–but I–” 

“You won’t do everything on your own. Just us. Together. I’ll take care of us as a family, treat you well, take more leaves off, um–not go out with my friends as much, I’ll do anything you want.” He leans forward to place a longing kiss on your forehead, and you just close your eyes, chewing your tongue off as it squirms to scream at him.

Your fists tighten to push him off, and your legs ache to run away. Run away as far as you can from this place. But you don’t. You stay sitting in that chair as Beomgyu wipes away your tears, kissing you warmly. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t get the way that you’re going to change permanently forever. Both mind and body.

You may hate your child forever on after this, but you still don’t get a say on whether you want it or not. 

“Baby?” Beomgyu pulls back to look at you, giggling at your flushed cheeks, but you don’t find anything amusing. “Yeah?” You mumble, sucking in deep breaths. “We’ll get through it together. I promise.”  

‘Together?’ You ponder.  

You don’t want to.  

Me and my husband 

We're doing better 

It's always been just him and me 

Together 

Your whole body aches with unimaginable pain. Everything is on fire, and the wet tears rolling down your eyes do nothing to soothe it. There’s chattering everywhere but it’s going in one ear and out the other, so you hope that the man by your side is listening intently. You blink slowly to the beat of the two hearts just above your rising chest. Small heads tickle your chin, and their soft warm bodies slow down your breathing a little.  

“You did so well, love.” You want to make up the happy sniffles that emit next to you, but you can’t because your dear husband is truly crying. Any other time you would’ve made fun of him, poked, and teased him for his weeping but you feel like doing the same. But everything dried up the moment your eyes had first landed on your babies.  

Godsend babies.  

But, after their first cries hit the world, you imagine yourself as a mere twelve-year-old (or rather any age below twenty-six) left alone with two wailing babies, locked in a very dark room. Though it was important to take note that, your vivid imagination had increased by tenfold through those nine months...so you didn’t think anything of it. Yet those feelings felt very very real, as though they were thriving right under your skin, crawling like little centipedes, sneaking into every crevice and bump under your organs, eyebrows twitching at the torment.  

You turn your head to catch the calendar on the plain white wall, and in a red circle, highlights the date.

"February 12th" You tremble as you watch your husband nod furiously, clutching your hand to his face. The red burns into the paper and kept in a trance you wonder...in a few years from now, will those random letters and numbers leave a bitter taste on your tongue, or will the remnants of sweet birthday cake follow instead.

So I bet all I have on that 

Furrowed brow 

And at least in this lifetime 

We're sticking together 

If someone asked you how you felt as of right now, you would say “I dunno” in hopes of justifying yourself to your own consciousness. But taking one look at Beomgyu who beams as bright as the sunny sun outside, teeth blinding as ever, you would then change your answer to “Very happy. I am very happy because I have two kids, one of whom is a boy, thank you very much. And the other is a girl and they both, plus me are loved by my lovely husband, who is sticking with me ‘till death do us part.”

You would’ve thrown the last part in as a little joke to hide the dishonesty that would’ve seeped through the very gaps of your teeth. But that doesn't change the fact that it was now officially true. Those two on your chest, breathing with life, had just made it so.  

Me and my husband 

We're sticking together 

“(Y/n) what is this mess?”  

The two kids (both turning eight in a month) in your lap scurry away at the sound of their very tired father leaving you to stand there with a cluttered disarray behind you. You sigh. “I’ll clean it up.” Your body throbs as it leaves its place on the couch, not bothering to even watch yourself as you accidentally stumble into Beomgyu. Though you immediately freeze at the familiar odor that excretes from him.

“Have you been drinking again?” You ask, turning around to face the man who just oddly stares at you. Pieces of gray litter his hair, a stubble grows but he still looks handsome as ever, stunning as he was in that damned cabin. “What’s it with you on what I do? You’re not my mom. You’re my wife.”  

Aha.  

You lean towards him with a comforting pat on his arm, understanding the horrible grief that stirs deep inside him. You wonder if you should let him off the hook this time, his mother, the grandmother of your kids had just passed away a month ago, and his unhealthy habit his just started a week after her passing.

Perhaps you were too nice to him, maybe those small jobs you’ve taken on had made you soft-hearted, but you always fell weak in front of Beomgyu and you realized that earlier on. “It’s ok, love.” You sigh, taking him into a hug, trying not to wince at the sour smell. He doesn’t do much to embrace you, but you don’t mind.  

Parting away from him, you offer a weak smile to him.  

“Tomorrow is the weekend. Let us get a bigger desk for our daughter since she’s now having the room to herself.” 

Me and my husband 

We're doing better 

[tryingmybestiguess]

I've just seen the Barbie movie

I'm the only one that thinks that Barbie was mediocre at best? It could have been a good movie but everything was a mess.

First of all the dialogue felt unatural and forced if not childish and simple. Also the movie treats its audience as if they were stupid. For example when Barbie and Ken first appear on the real world the characters explain, in a way no human would, how they feel for being observed by the people so the movie can make a quick summary about how woman are treated vs how man are treated. Thanks, we didn't notice.

And this happens ALL the time. Like when the Barbies say they are empowered woman at the begining of the movie ( which is weird because patriarchy doesn't exist in Barbieland). It's so on-the-face it hurts.

And the plot was... Well the movie is confused about what the main plot and themes are.

First Barbie has to find the child that controls her because she is defective, but when Mattel appears it looks like she forgets it and for a moment the plot is escaping the company. And in the middle of the movie she finds her child (Gloria)that now is an adult. HORRAY conflict solved. Except that now theres another one about the Kens creating a patriarchy. So again, we forget about Barbie being defective. How the Kens managed to create a patriarchy in what was a matriatchy days ago escapes my mind. The movie says that is because they have never been exposed to those ideas, which doesn't make any sense, but, okay, we'll buy it. Anyways, Barbie finds this out when she returns to Barbieland with Gloria and her daugther. Apparently the Barbies have been brainwashed by the misogynistic society but thanks to Gloria that makes a talk about society expectiations on woman they reagain their previous personalities. By the way the misogyny of the Kens is the most basic misogyny you can imagine. Then the Barbies make a plan so the Kens forget to vote in the elections by making them fight each other, they have a good musical, and the Barbies win. Ken has a mental breakdown because he doesn't know who he is without Barbie and has a revelation that Kenland, that is misogyny, was a coping mechanism for his insecurity and that this situation also causes him pain. Happy ending.

I forgot, Barbie finally decides that she wants to be human and the creator of Barbie apprears out of the blue (yes, I know she has appeared before, but this was sooo random).

Oh yeah, sorry, remember Mattel? They are still in the Movie. They also go to Barbieland but do nothing. And Allan is also irrelevant.

Okay, characters.

Barbie has her moments, she has a crisis because the world isn't like she thought it was, and cause she doesn't know how to adapt. But this development felt rushed. The same goes to Ken, the final moment is a good lesson it just happens too fast, it was the expected outcome, but it seems like they forgot the development necessary to its conclusion.

It's a pity, the movie had potential, they but it only touched the themes on a surface level.

And one last thing...

THE MOVIE DOESN'T HATE MEN.

[commander-wakemeupinside]

The John Chapters

Here’s a full list of each verse, the actual biblical thing, and a chapter summary with the bits that I found the most relevant. You can click for better quality, I tried to make it into a pdf I could share but that’s not working for some reason. (Obvious warning for mega spoilers, if you're reading this and you haven't read nona yet go block all the tags right now!)

also while I'm here thanks @treeofwhimsy for encouraging me to do this and letting me live react while reading in our discord DMs :)

[etsuven]

rating: fluff, slightly suggestive character: venti cw: none? idk, it does hint at a mini make out session in the end includes: petnames (sweetheart), so many kisses, lots of cute fluff that makes me jealous why can't this be me summary: today is your boyfriends' birthday! you spent a while planning for it, and you were determined to make this his best birthday yet!

note: OMG ITS VENTI'S BIRTHDAY AHBDHASDHSABD BEST CHARACTER IN THE GAMEM, AMFBASKJBD. anyways this is my long overdue venti fic because i miss writing for him (as i'm starting to write this, it's 12:53 AM. i will finish this on time >:( ). also technically this is a little… continuation (?) of my “venti gets really flustered when it comes to physical touch” post i made a longggggg while back :DDD

was i supposed to write for venti months ago??? maybeeee.... sorry if it's mediocre at best, like most of my fics it's completely improvised and none of this was planned out (i had a small idea of what i wanted but the overall feel wasn't planned) anyways, enough of that! onto the fic!!!!

today was a special day. why, you ask? it's venti's birthday!

now, venti normally wasn't the type to celebrate his birthday. he had gone through with it more times than he could really remember, so over the several... several hundred years, the day had begun to lose its meaning.

this doesn't mean that venti doesn't care about his birthday, he does! it just feels like a normal day to him. you couldn't accept that.

you had been dating venti for a while now, and whenever it was his birthday, you opted for simple stuff. a few bottles of his favorite wine from the winery, the freshest apples you could find... stuff like that. but you had planned a bit more this year.

the day began early with a quick kiss. venti had a performance scheduled at the angels share around noon, which gave you enough time to plan out everything you needed while you waited for him to finish. as much as you wanted him to stay (and as much as he wanted to stay in and lay around) you both knew that he had things to do, so you reluctantly sent him off with a small wave.

once he was gone, however, the sad pout on your face quickly morphed into excitement as you rushed back into your home to prepare for the day.

your plan was simple. use the time that was open while venti was away to prepare the best birthday ever! you had ingredients for many small foods, and you could only hope it was enough as your lover's appetite would probably be huge after his long performance.

you had around five hours to prepare everything, but what you didn't account for was how messy everything would be. there were ingredients everywhere, and you were rushing so much that you barely took the time to clean up.

luckily you realized around the halfway mark that there was no need to rush, and you could take your time doing whatever you needed to do until it was time for you to leave.

the last few hours passed quickly, and before you realized it, you were already on your way to angels share to pick your dear boyfriend up.

you opened the tavern door to find venti packing up, lyre in hand as he spoke to a few people around him. giving diluc a quick greeting, you closed the door behind you. venti must have heard you speak because he turned around, a wide smile on his face. he gave the people he was previously talking to a quick nod of the head before rushing over to you and giving you a big hug.

"(y/n)!, you're here!" venti squeezed you tightly, only pulling away when you let out a small cough. for someone as small as he was, he was quite strong. "how was your day? were you lonely without me?" taking his hand, you playfully rolled your eyes, leading him out of the tavern.

"my day was good, thank you for asking!" you laughed, remembering all the things you went through in these past few hours just for him. you didn't really care too much though, as you were certain that his reaction would be worth the pain you went through. "also, of course i was lonely without you! whatever would i do without your pretty voice!"

venti laughed, his ego clearly boosted by your comment. he was used to you saying things like this, as you often made it a habit to compliment him whenever you could. honestly, it was probably his favorite thing about you.

"well, i wouldn't be a very good bard without my voice, ehe! by the way, where are we going?" venti looked around, only now noticing that you weren't headed to your shared home. he looked at you last, and you tried your best to hide your facial expression. he was very smart, and if you let anything slip, he would probably figure out that you had something planned.

now that you thought about it, he had probably already connected the dots.

luckily however (and strangely enough) venti didn't ask any questions. he just walked with you, hands swinging as you made your way towards your final destination. over the next few minutes, you walked, listening to the chirping of the birds and the soft whistle of the wind as it blew past you.

suddenly, you heard venti let out a small gasp, and you looked over to find him staring back at you with a surprised look on his face. you smiled shyly, looking over to what had caught his attention.

under the big windrise tree was a large blanket. a picnic basket was set on top of it, along with a bag with something inside. you dragged venti towards the picnic setup, giggling as you sat him down in front of you.

"surprise!" you exclaimed, bouncing around in excitement. "i planned a picnic for you! you don't really celebrate your birthday often, so i tried my best to make this one as special as i possibly could! i hope it's good enough..."

suddenly, you felt shy. it was most likely a combination of nerves and the anticipation for his reaction that had you feeling this way. but venti's next words had you smiling happily.

"oh, it's more than good enough, it's wonderful!" he gave you a large smile, bringing your still intertwined hands to his lips. "so this is what you were planning? i had a small idea, but i didn't know it would be this!"

letting out an embarrassed laugh, you grabbed the basket, opening it and bringing out the main surprise. a fresh, handmade apple pie that was still quite warm (you had popped it into the oven for a bit before bringing it here, just so that it would be warm.)

you also pulled out a few other bags that had things like apple slices and sandwiches with and without cheese. personally you wouldn't choose apple pie and apples as picnic items, but this was venti you were talking about. apples were his favorite!

funny how he could eat apples upon apples but he draws the line at cheese. but you won't judge him. for now.

after venti got over the initial surprise at all of the food (you had continued to pull more and more things out of the basket, along with the most expensive dandelion wine diluc had to offer that you hid so venti wouldn't notice it too soon) he insisted that the two of you start eating.

you happily served the pie, and you spent the next few hours chatting. venti unsurprisingly loved the wine, but he held himself back so he wouldn't get too tipsy and finish the wine too soon.

before you knew it, the sun had started setting, and the sky was starting to change colors. you had been out here for quite a while. you and venti were now laying down on the blanket, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand as you enjoyed the quietness of the area around you.

you took a quick glance towards your lover, admiring his side profile. he was as pretty as ever with a small smile on his face, perfect twin braids and hair framing his face. the slight little chub in his cheeks made you laugh softly, and your gaze trailed up to his eyes only to find him staring back at you. "you're staring."

you shrugged your shoulders at his comment, smiling and turning your body so you were facing him. "i know, but i can't help it. you're too pretty..." venti's eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away.

here's the thing about venti- only certain things can fluster him. he's told you this before, he's heard compliment after compliment, so everything you tell him has already been said. but there are some things that still go through to him, like this comment. a sincere few words combined with a soft smile had his stomach fluttering as if a thousand crystalflies had made their home there.

"don't say that..." he whispered. his cheeks were a bit more pink, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the wine or if he was embarrassed. sitting up on your elbows, you hovered over him, smiling at his flustered expression.

it definitely wasn't the wine.

"why not?" you asked, faking concern. you scooted further up slightly, placing your arm above his head as you used your other hand to touch his forehead. dragging your fingers across his skin, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his eyes, slowly trailing your fingers down until they reached his cheek. venti's eyes were now closed, his eyebrows twitching as he struggled to process the sensation.

leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his, your lips dangerously close to touching. "i can't tell you about how pretty you are?" feeling your forehead against his, the eyes of your lover opened, and you smiled in satisfaction as his breath hitched. he too had noticed just how close the two of you had gotten.

now that you were closer, you could see that venti's cheeks had become a darker shade of pink, an adorable color that suited him quite well. the soft press of his hands against the sides of your neck and a small whisper made you look back into his eyes, which averted once you made eye contact.

"what was that, sweetheart?" you whispered back, pinching his cheek softly as a small way to keep him grounded. venti shyly looked back you, making you smile comfortingly as you waited for him to speak again. a second or two passed before the words left his mouth, and you swear you felt your heart melt. "kiss me?"

letting out a small laugh, you leaned down, connecting your lips for a bit before pulling away. or at least you tried to, but venti's hands pulled you down for another kiss. and another, and another... you really didn't mind though- you'd give him as many kisses as he wanted. because, well...

who were you to deny the birthday boy?

i did in fact finish this on time! it is now 2:36 AM as i am starting to write this part, and i feel great! happy birthday to the best character in the game i'm not biased- i. am. RIGHT. this has to be my favorite fic because so much of my love for venti went into it, i didn't get bored ONCE because i was too busy making it PERFECT for you guys so i hope you enjoyed it!

this is my venti appreciation post because i will never get as lucky as i did when i first got him (aka march 29th 2021 literally minutes after getting my account back from getting hacked, he came home in three ten pulls <3) literally i would have never gotten through the abyss without him i'm pretty sure he's literally the reason why i got past the last few floors of the first part of the abyss.

i would say goodnight but knowing me i’ll be up for another hour i should probably fix my sleep schedule. but anyways byeeee!!!