#these are like the only drawings i've done over the past month

[tksubby]

[transvampireboyfriend]

this was supposed to be a headcanon, just me explaining that I want to see their routines bleed into each others and it turned into 3k words. So, you can also read it on ao3 here. And here are the rings I was visualizing. I hope you enjoy it <3

One of the first nights he stays over, Eddie stands outside Steve's bathroom door and asks Steve what he's doing in there.

He got in before Eddie went to shower across the hall and Eddie's clean and changed into his borrowed PJs now, and Steve's still in there, and it sounds like he's banging pots and pans inside.

Steve laughs, but calls "Don't laugh,"

Eddie swears "I would never," as Steve opens the door, and when Steve comes out with his face covered in green goo, instead of laughing, Eddie gasps.

"What's that?" Eddies asks, his finger already drawing a line across Steve's cheek.

Before Steve can answer, Eddie puts the goo into his mouth.

Steve's eyes go wide as plates.

"Eddie!" he protests "You're not supposed to eat it! What if it's toxic?"

"Is it?" Eddie asks, licking his teeth, "tastes like cucumber. But like, way too clean,"

Steve chuckles, "It is made of cucumber, its a mask. Supposed to keep your skin nice." he explains, going back into his bathroom to cover the strip that Eddie scrubbed with more of the goo.

Eddie does not hesitate to follow after him. Hopping up on the ample counter to observe.

"Well, it's doing its job well, I think" Eddie points out.

Steve tries his best not to smile. "Thanks," he says "You're not freaked out by it?" he asks,

"I think it's cool" Eddie shrug,

Steve can't help his smile this time.

"Well this works out well because I have to keep it on for 10 minutes and this way i won't get bored." Steve offers, "What were you saying about Stevie Nicks before?"

Eddie talks his ear off while Steve tidies up the containers in his counter.

Once it's time to wash the mask off, Eddie watches him, then, he dutifully washes his own hands so he can poke a finger at one of Steve's cheeks.

He says it's cool to the touch and really soft. He approves.

Steve feels butterflies fluttering inside his chest.

☀♡☀♡

After that, it becomes a habit, Eddie goes and showers and changes and when he's ready for bed he comes keep Steve company, knocks twice for Steve to open the door and once he does he walks in and takes his place up on the counter.

A few months after they get together, Steve notices Eddie staring during a lull in their conversation while Steve is going through his skin care.

He's done it before a few times in the past weeks, Steve figured he was maybe off on a train of thought but now he's curious. Eddie's got his head tilted to the side, his mouth is scrunched up like he's stopping himself from saying something and he's fiddling with his rings, and suddenly something clicks for Steve.

He's applying a mask with a little wooden applicator and he extends it towards Eddie, presents it in front of his big beautiful brown eyes.

"D'you wanna try?" he offers

Eddie's eyes twinkle. His mouth blooms into a smirk, his dimples showing up as he enthusiastically nods and cranes his neck forward, like the only possible option is for Steve to apply it for him.

Steve laughs quietly, stepping closer to him and placing a kiss to his cheek.

"Why didn't you say?" he asks, still kissing him, his lips moving against Eddie's cheeks and making him giggle.

"I don't know" Eddie says "What if you didn't wanna share it? You've said before, this stuff is personal"

Steve draws back and immediately goes back in to press kisses against Eddie's other cheek.

"Well, yeah, we have to get you your own stuff if you like it, but you can share mine for now, sunshine." another kiss. "I don't mind." and another kiss "I would love for you to share it actually" he presses one final kiss and draws back to admire his work: Eddie's smile as wide as it gets and Eddie's cheeks tinted with the softest, prettiest red.

"You have to teach me." Eddie demands "I know I've watched you do it since forever, but i don't think I can do it on my own" he adds.

Steve smiles, completely enamored "You've done it for me before. Several times" he points out

"Yeah, with you coaching me through it!" Eddie whines, "I'd mess it all up" he's so serious, Steve finds it incredibly endearing.

Steve chuckles and leans over to press a small kiss against the bridge of Eddie's nose. "Mmkay" he murmurs "we gotta wash your face first"

☀♡☀♡

Little by little, Eddie gets confident enough to do it himself. Once he understands what everything does and sees the effects it all has on his skin, he even picks and chooses the steps he wants to do each day.

Steve loves it so much he can't put it into words. And he loves that he doesn't have to do this alone anymore.

Even when they're apart Eddie calls while Steve goes through his routine, sometimes they do it together but over the phone. Even when Eddie doesn't feel like doing anything at all he still sits by him and they talk about everything and nothing. Steve never imagined something so simple could make him so happy.

☀♡☀♡☀♡☀♡☀♡☀♡

For Eddie, it's even more simple but just as important.

The first time he catches Steve eyeing his rings is while he's being forced to listen to a Tears for Fears record.

Steve insists that they're good, Eddie's been staunchly refusing, but only because he likes seeing Steve get riled up. He gets bitchy and Eddie thinks he's the hottest person he's ever met.

Eddie's been trying to rile him up again as they lay on his bed and listen to the record, but Steve is not listening, his eyes are trained on Eddie's hands as he moves them around to explain his points. Once he figures it out, Eddie goes quiet for a bit, just moves a hand.

Steve's eyes follow it.

Eddie slides his skull ring off his hand and offers a waiting hand.

Steve's hazel eyes look at the ring, then at his waiting palm, then at Eddie. Eddie raises his eyebrows and smiles encouragingly and Steve finally places his hand in his.

Eddie slides the ring on and off three of Steve's fingers before he finds the right fit.

"There you go" he says, his voice quiet under the music. His throat dry from all the places they're touching.

Steve raises his hand above their heads, turns it around as he looks at the ring.

"I like it" Steve decides with a smile.

"You can keep it" Eddie says, without thinking.

Steve looks at him with wide beautiful eyes. "I- I don't" he stammers,

"Oh" Eddie says "I mean, you don't have to. It's okay" he tells him.

Steve shakes his head a little. "It's not-" he seems to have trouble finding the words.

"Give it here" Eddie supplies after a beat, offering up his waiting palm again.

Steve puckers his lips and slides the ring off his hand, places it on Eddie's waiting palm for him to slide it back on.

☀♡☀♡

After that, Eddie expects the looks will stop, maybe Steve just wanted to see what it was like to wear one, that's okay.

But, that same weekend, while they're smoking, lying on Eddie's bed this time, Steve is doing it again, his eyes focused on Eddie's fingers whenever they pass the blunt between them.

Eddie tries a different approach this time.

"Which one do you like?" he asks,

When Steve raises his eyebrows, Eddie raises both his hands above their heads, clicks his rings together.

"Which one do I like the most?" Steve asks,

Not what Eddie said, but-

"Sure" he shrugs, intrigued.

"Hmm" Steve hums, bringing his fingers up to trace Eddie's rings. Eddies tries his best to suppress his shiver.

Steve finally lands on a ring, one with a deep brown stone in it.

"This one." he states quietly.

Wordlessly, Eddie hooks his right pinky around Steve's left index finger and holds on while he twists their hands around to slide the ring off his finger and onto Steve's.

"It's pretty" Steve comments, slowly disentangling their hands.

Eddie hums an assent.

Steve moves his hand around. "Feels heavy." he notices.

Eddie turns his head to look at Steve's face. "Yeah," he confirms.

He waits until Steve looks back at him to offer.

"Do you want that one?" Eddie whispers.

Steve looks into both his eyes, one after the other and the handsomest smile blooms on his face, he nods.

"If I can have it." Steve whispers back.

Eddie clears his throat so his voice is not so hoarse "It's yours" he confirms with a smile of his own.

"Thanks, Eds. I'm gonna buy one for you to replace it" Steve promises, admiring his ring.

"You don't have to" Eddie tells him, "I'm giving it to you"

"I know. I want to" Steve says.

Steve holds their blunt to Eddie's lips again, says "Tell me about your song again" and once Eddie leans up and takes the blunt, Steve hooks their pinkies together.

Eddie tells him about the bridge he found and how he can't quite find an ending.

☀♡☀♡

A week or so later they share their first kiss. Huddled together under Steve's bed covers in the middle of the night.

In between that night and the first time they tug at each other's clothes, tucked inside Eddie's van in the early hours of the morning after a very intense Corroded Coffin gig, Steve continues taking Eddie's rings and wearing them for random stretches of time.

He calls Eddie "sunshine" and Eddie calls him "sweetheart". They cook for each other and then together, they watch movies, they talk after they have nightmares, well into the sunrise. They go for swims and they have picnics and they hold hands.

Eddie takes his rings off to go to the bathroom and often he'll come back to find one missing, or, not really missing, just on one of Steve's fingers. Steve usually gives it back by the end of their hangout or the next day they see each other.

Sometimes, Steve takes the rings right off Eddie's hand and Eddie lets him. Steve tries on each and every one, and keeps his favorite, rearranging the rest on Eddie's hands in some particular way, by size, or by color, or by "symbolism" he said once. Eddie adores him.

Those rings he usually gets back within the week.

Some other times, Steve will have a specific request, he even called Eddie once to ask if he could borrow a specific ring he thought would go well with the outfit he had planned for their date the next day. Eddie was delighted.

The first rings Eddie buys for Steve are an ordeal for him. He's so nervous, afraid that Steve won't like them, or that he won't want to have any of his own (even though he wears the one with the brown stone every day), or that he'll refuse to accept them.

He tells Steve that the girl that helped him said he could exchange them even for store credit if he didn't like them. Which, is a lie, but Eddie can make it happen if need be.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to, Steve loves them. Eddie chose one of intertwined metal bands, one with the phases of the moon around it and one that looks like arms are hugging Steve's finger. Steve especially likes that last one.

After that, Eddie takes Steve with him when he goes shopping for rings.

The first ring Steve buys for Eddie, the one that's supposed to "replace" the one with the brown stone, is a sun signet. Eddie maybe tears up a little bit.

It becomes such a part of them, that soon it's virtually impossible to say whose rings are in their bedside table.

Some mornings one of them is in charge of assigning the rings. Some others whoever gets to the side table first gets to choose his rings and leave the rest for the other. Regardless, Eddie loves to sit down and watch Steve pick out and put on his rings for the day. Taking time out of his day, every. single. morning. When he didn't wear rings before Eddie gifted him one. It makes Eddie want to cling to him and press kisses to his beautiful hair.

Some days, when it's Steve's turn to assign the rings he gets a little too into it. Organizing and reorganizing them in different ways, always in neat little rows until they're five minutes late and Eddie has to force himself to say "Stevie, we have to go" even though he could watch Steve organize things and mumble around the explanations for each method for days on end.

The real kicker though, is when Steve buys rings for Eddie that are more Steve's style. He buys rings for Eddie that he would like to wear himself. Because he knows eventually, he'll end up wearing Eddie's rings, no matter what. It's such a declaration of his intent to stick around that Eddie never quite knows what to say.

Steve also plays with his rings now, just as he plays with Eddie's, fiddles with them, removes them for cooking or cleaning, puts them in his pockets or in his glove compartment, they're a part of him as much as Eddie's rings are a part of Eddie, as much as Steve is a part of Eddie.

Eddie likes when their rings clink together when they hold hands, he loves feeling Steve's rings against his skin, in the small of his back or up his sides beneath his shirt. And he absolutely adores stealing Steve's rings too, slipping them off his fingers and into his own, feeling the residual warmth form where Steve's been going about his day with this piece of metal in his hand, Eddie can think of nothing better.

☀♡☀♡

"Eds have you seen my ring?" Steve asks him one night, coming into the kitchen where Eddie's making them pancakes for dinner.

"You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific, big boy" Eddie answers, flipping a pancake.

"No, Eddie" Steve presses, the panic in his tone finally registering and Eddie immediately turns to look at him.

His hair is a mess, like he's been pulling on it, even though he was in the middle of his shower when Eddie left him to come make dinner.

"Oh," Eddie says, finally understanding he means the ring with the brown stone. "I don't have it baby, where did you see it last?" Eddie asks, turning off the stove.

"I left it in the bedside table!" Steve explains, clearly frustrated "it's not there anymore, and it's not on the drawers or on the bed or in the floor or behind the door. I don't know where it is." he finishes, tears forming in his eyes.

Eddie hates seeing him so stressed, he walks up to him and runs his hand up and down his arms.

"We'll find it sweetheart, it's okay. Did you check under the dresser?" Eddie asks.

There was a dresser in their house when they bought it, inside their bedroom. Apparently, the previous owner did not want to deal with the trouble of getting it out and as it turned out, neither did Steve and Eddie. It was a beautiful vintage piece of furniture and it was heavy as a motherfucker.

"Oh. I didn't?" Steve says, "How would it get all the way there?"

The dresser is placed across their bed, so in the wall opposite their bedside tables.

"It seems crazy, but it's happened with a couple of mine" Eddie tells him, "I'm telling you, this place is on a slant" he says, already grabbing Steve and tugging him towards their bedroom.

"Fuck, I hope it's there" he mumbles.

"It will be," Eddie assures him

"What if it went down the drain?" Steve anxiously asks,

"You almost never leave your rings in the bathroom, handsome"

"But what if I did?" Steve insists,

"Then I will go down to the sewers to get it for you" Eddie tells him as they enter their bedroom.

Steve goes to get on the floor but Eddie brings their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss there, says "Here, I'll look" and gets on his hands and knees in front of their dresser.

Sure enough, there's a small shadow at the very back, the object nearly touching the wall. Eddie comes up to tell Steve and bangs his head against one of the dresser handles.

"Jesus!" Steve exclaims, rubbing Eddie's head for him, "Is it there?" he asks.

Eddie scrunches his eyes shut against the pain and gives Steve a thumbs up, "Mmhm, I think so," he confirms, "You have a ruler on your desk," he tells Steve

Without needing another word Steve goes and gets it for him.

When Eddie finally fishes the ring out, Steve grabs it and clutches it to his chest

"Ohmygod. Thank you" he says, leaning his head against the dresser.

Eddie gets up off the floor and drags him to stand in front of him as Eddie sits in their bed.

Steve takes a couple of moments to breathe deeply, letting go of the last dregs of his panic. Eddie clings to Steve's waist and noses his shirt up to kiss the scarred skin on his side.

Steve finally chuckles softly, bunches his fingers up at the top of Eddie's head.

"Does it hurt too much?" he asks, rubbing at Eddie's head again.

Eddie shakes his head.

Steve switches to petting his hair and softly laughs "God, I almost got a heart attack"

Eddie chuckles, leaning his chin on Steve's stomach to look up at him.

"I love you" he reminds him.

Steve traces his dimples, says "I love you", then grabs one of Eddie's hands from his waist and slides the ring on his hand.

"It's your job to take care of it now. When I'm not wearing it" Steve tells him.

"I will." Eddie promises.

Inevitably, Steve ends up taking care of Eddie's sun signet whenever he's not wearing it, just in case.

The longest they wear those rings for the other is a few months, between getting engaged and exchanging them again at their wedding ceremony.

[petite-madame]

just so you know, it’s very obvious to actual artists that you’re posting AI and then lying that you’ve done it all by hand. kind of embarrassing, and more than a little fucked up.

Hi anon

This kind of nonsense usually ends up in the trash with a laugh but as it's my first "your art is AI", let's go! (It was just a matter of time, as practically all my artist friends got this kind of messages at this point)

it’s very obvious to actual artists...

Actual artists ? You mean, like me, a professional illustrator in her 40s, who has started drawing at the age of 8 and who has been drawing with a consistant art style for the past 15 years (with some improvements, thank god 🤓) ? People like you have accused me of tracing using tracing paper when I was a kid, tracing in Photoshop 15 years ago when I started to post on the internet and now my art is "AI". I should be used to it by now: when I posted this one 14 YEARS AGO, people told me it was traced and that "I wasn't a real artist, actual artists could tell"

I've consistently posted step by step, WIPs, vids, reels, gifs, shown the number of layers I use by art (sometimes more than 100) but apparently, it's never enough. And my art is AI generated ? Which one ?

So much for the Loki one, I apologize for the 0,3%…

Which is also funny is that fans of Supernatural, Good Omens, Sherlock, etc…have been able to say exactly which reference pictures I used for each drawing, not only for faces but sometimes also for the pose and the clothing (because yes, omg, I use reference pictures, the horror 😲)

However if you want to talk about my technique, and I've never hidden it, I sometimes use photos or 3D models for backgrounds because I hate drawing backgrounds. For instance the background of the Superwholock one is composed of a couple of stock pictures (a pub).

Same for a "Sherlock Harry Potter AU" I'll post in a month or so: some parts oh Hogwarts are screenshots from the movie because I didn't feel like drawing a room full of students.

Also, is there sometimes mistakes in my art that don't make sense ? Yes, nothing new, I make mistakes, I've been doing it for years and I still do it, particularly when it comes to anatomy. I want to pull my hair out when I notice them weeks (sometimes months) later but here we are.

Anyway, people like you who throw "it's AI" accusations all over the Internet better think twice because the result is this.

Don't get me wrong, I get the AI paranoia but instead of sending messages to artists like this one, ask kindly about their process, their technique, etc…and also, have a look at their archive, it could help.

I'm leaving you now, I have AI art to generate (= spending 10 hours per drawing using reference pictures, finding inspiration from classical painting, using about 100 layers and stressing about the art not being good enough).

Have a great weekend!

[shewrites02]

Forgive Me if I break You | Zoro x Reader | Part II

Part I

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, Alcohol, verbal abuse , physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI !

*THERE IS A GRAPHIC DEPECTION OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE IN THE FIRST FLASHBACK, IF NOT COMFORTABLE PLEASE SKIP. (the last line is the most important anyway)*

A/N: Thank you for all the support I've gotten at the start of this series, I was so nervous no one would be interested lol. I hope this part lives up to your expectations.

Request: Open

Word count: 5K

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

The cold of the ice pack stings against your cheek, almost as much as the insults lodged in your throat with nowhere to go. Harshly, you swallow them down, having to reacclimate to the taste of stifled feelings. Almost completely forgotten in those two months.

You're in your shared bedroom, sitting in Lee's lap. Your head lays against his chest. With how tenderly he stroked your hair, you're almost able to imagine care in his touch. Pretend it is the swordsman who caresses you so tenderly. Lee places a soft kiss to your cheek, laying his head against yours.

"I'm sorry, y/n ... I didn't mean to lose my temper." He coos. In the past six months he never came up with any other excuse. Always an apology then an explanation of why it was your fault.

"It's jus’- you embarrassed me in front of our guests, interrupting me like that. You know I hate when you do that- and that fucking swordsman clearly has feelings for you."

Lee is almost completely lost in his rambling, and you think for a moment you will get relief from this puppet show he has forced you into. But the mention of Zoro has you going stiff.

"It's disgusting. a lowlife pirate thinking he can have what is mine. I forbid you from seeing him, do you understand?"

"Yes dear." you respond.

As if the swordsman wanted anything to do with you now. Not after what you've done to him- not after he has seen how pathetic you are. The future world's best swordsman deserves more than someone like you.

"I'm so glad you're home." Lee pivots. "I can't believe I thought you left me-"

Lee lets out a chuckle as though the thought is inconceivable. In spite of your rigidness, the chief takes a deep breath to relax into the headboard. Each chuckle that leaves his mouth tightens your shackles. Reaffirming what you already know- you aren't going anywhere.

"Is that what happened to the countryside?"  You ask meekly. Fearful of the answer, but so desperate for the truth.  "Did you burn the lemon grove to punish me?"

"... Yes."

Tears swell in your eyes as you pull away to look at the merciless man in front of you. A man who would bathe in your blood with no remorse. So desperate for your obedience he is willing to strip the last memories of your mother away from you as punishment . Did not need proof of your transgressions, his outrage evidence enough to justify his actions.

The chief uses the edge of his thumb to swipe the shallow tears brimming in your eyes.

"We can replant all of them my love, even more, now that you are home. "He lets his thumb sweep over your cheek and lips before he draws away.

Still he wears no semblance of remorse. No guilt or shame for what he's done. For the villagers - his people- homes destroyed in the crossfire of his rage. Couldn't care less about the massive amounts of  nature he burned to ash in the name of revenge. Their  forfeiture was a consequence of your decision to act so selfishly.  It was all your fault-

Why should the chief feel apologetic?

"And the villagers?"

Lee leans in to gently place another kiss to your cheek. As though his kisses can ease the pain of his strikes. Something in you wants to believe he is trying to soothe the pain he inflicted on you. The more nihilistic part of you knows you are only searching for the swordsman's affection in Lee 's actions.  Actions that only encompass power and control, that force obedience. Lee rests his forehead head against your head so that his lips are centimeters away from your ear.

"I told you, what I would do if you left- I thought you called my bluff, honey …" 

Your mouth went dry at the sight. How- You thought- there was no time to waste musing through all the precautions you  thought you followed. Not when your husband stood in front of you disproving their effectiveness.

"What is this?" He asked, pointing over to the bed.

There is an empty duffle bag clutched tight in his left hand- your duffle bag. Its contents scattered on the bed sporadically. A couple thousand berry, a map, exactly two changes of clothes, and a log pose. Everything you needed for a seamless departure.

"I- don't know how it- I-" You were too caught off guard to lie, too unprepared to conjure up an excuse on the fly. Instead you stood fumbling like an idiot trying to figure out how Lee could have possibly just stumbled upon your stash.

"What is it?!" The chief shouted, this time throwing the duffle bag so that it landed at your feet. Before you could answer, he was already stalking toward you. Soon his hands were wrapped around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks. You'd wince in pain if the man had allowed you any wiggle room. 

"Were you trying to leave me?" he growls.

"No-" you tried to muffle through your clenched jaw. the word only coming out as a strained cry.

He looked unconvinced. That darkness you're too familiar with started to fill his eyes. It made you begin to question what in you was so naïve enough to think you could escape. Lee moves his hand from your cheek to wrap his arm firmly around your waist. His opposite arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"You want to leave me?" He snarled.

Your head shook ‘no’ so vigorously you almost forgot it was a lie. Just trying to appease the chief,  to be spared from his wrath. It did not work. Lee was already starting to walk backward , dragging your body along easily despite your protests. This time you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Lee easily kicked open the French doors leading to the balcony. Your kicking and screaming, posing as no defense against your husband. He drags you, until your torso is pressed against the balcony railing and he is forcing your head over to look at the drop.

"This is your only way out. If you want to leave me tell me now and I'll throw you over myself.... Say it!"

"I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave." The words repeated from your mouth like an incantation. Barely made out through your cries.

It was enough to make the chief release you, letting your limp body fall to the concrete. He stared down at you with a satisfactory smile before bending at the knees. The gentleness in his touch as he swept the hair out your face is always a precursor to his cruel threats.

"I'll burn this whole village to the  ground if you try to leave again. Do you understand me?" He snarls. "Slowly, one by one I will burn every region until you return to me. I will force you to watch everyone, everything , burn because you decided to be fucking selfish." 

Another kiss is planted to your cheek  before the whisper of Lee's voice commands your attention back to him. A shiver of a sigh escaping your lips at the painful memory.

"I can rebuild their homes... would you like that?"

You nod, letting the tears stream your face. You can feel Lee's smirk against your skin when he kisses the streaks. As though he is giving his approval of your reaction, your emotion.  The whites of his fingers dig into your waist to hold you close.  His grip does not lessen when you start to sob.

This is how he loved you. Broken. Tattered. Hopeless. An ode to his power, to how much he controlled you.

"Okay, Honey, first thing in the morning."

-

Water trickles down your chin and onto the sink. You had washed your face six times trying to get the feeling of Lee's hands off you. A futile attempt. His touch would be seared onto you forever.

You trace your cheek while staring into the vanity. There's some relief in not seeing a mark. Probably have your hiatus to thank for Lee's sudden mercy on you. At least you won't be subjected to questions. Trying to conjure up on the spot cover ups come morning, as to not incriminate your husband.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth. You would sob if you weren't so convinced you deserved this. The stinging of your face, the burning of your throat, the stabbing feeling in your chest. This must all be just a fraction of what you imposed on Zoro. The guilt in you leaves little room for other emotions, especially self pity.

How dare you believe a life waited for you beyond these cities' walls. Stupid, stupid, stupid- Foolishly thinking you could escape the future both your father and husband have mapped for you.

You curse the two month departure for giving you a glimpse of how good freedom could feel. For bringing the swordsman into your life when he is so undeserving of the burden you pose. For finally giving you hope just to later rub it in your  face.

"Lady Misatori." A small voice quips from the other side of the bathroom door. A knock follows to further force your attention.

A housekeeper stands on the other side. She can barely meet your eyes. A piece of notebook paper is folded into a tight square in her fingers , she is extending it out for you to grab. It trembles in her hands, giving way to the anxiety she is failing to hide.

"Thank you." You mutter. The maid looks relieved to hear her question-free dismissal.

When you open up the note you immediately recognize the handwriting. Had seen scribbled recipes written on loose leaf paper, and napkins enough to note it as Sanji's.

'Mosshead wants to talk- garden 10 minutes .'

The woman's trembling is finally put into perspective. Fearful of what her role in sneaking around the chief could mean for her. Briefly you wonder what the cook could've said to convince the woman to do this. Had his charm really been strong enough to get the woman to forgo all her senses? Part of you wishes to relish seeing Sanji's flirting finally meet with intrigue, but the insistent need to lay eyes on Zoro replaces the thought.

It has you stumbling out of the bathroom as quickly as you could. Forever grateful that in all his control Lee had found it fitting to give you a private bathroom.

-

It is dark, and wet. Leaves crunch and crumble beneath your feet as you walk the maze-like garden. The unpaved path is bordered with mountainous rose bushes that block your view of any direction, but front and back. The red flowers bloom so fruitfully they encroach your space on the pathway. The weather has gotten considerably cooler in the night, forcing you to pull your cardigan tighter around your shoulders. Regretting that the rush had made you grab the first thing with sleeves you saw.

A sigh leaves your lips exhaustedly. Surely the cook was mistaken. There was no sign of the swordsman anywhere. Maybe he had changed his mind about wanting to talk. Decided the risk isn't worth the reward. That you aren't worth the breath-

You hit an intersection on the path, and before you have the opportunity to turn left, there is a tight grasp around your arm. The force pulls you back, nestling you into the bushes behind you as you still. Once you gain your composure and are able to open your eyes, you’re met with the swordsman.

His left hand is wrapped firmly around your right arm, his other rest in the bush beside your head. Zoro has you caged. Trapped with nowhere to run. No place to hide. No escape.

"Husband?" He fumed. "Have you just been fucking around with me?"

"Zoro..." You plead, reaching out to grasp his cheek. He does not let you. Releases his hold on you to take a step back before your fingers land on him. The look on his face seethes of betrayal.

"Answer me!" The pirate barks. You flinch at the tone of his words, your eyes shutting closed. It takes a minute to gather yourself. You have never heard Zoro's voice void of any affection.

You swallow your own tears . Shove down your discomfort to accept accountability for your actions. Even if all you want to do is hold the swordsman once more. Hear his heart thump in his chest. Hear him say he loves you.

"I should have told you. I am so sorry I hurt you Zoro. "

The pirate scoffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He is shaking his head in disbelief, eyes burrowing into yours.

"You lied to me. You told me you loved m-"

"I Promise Zoro, I love you. I love you so much. so much." You beseech. 

The swordsman seems even more tortured by your testament. His hands find his skull to dig his fingers into his scalp. As if trying to ground himself for only a moment at the reeling thoughts.

"Does he know that? That you love me, that you're mine?"

When you don't answer the frustration builds in the swordsman. He lets out a pained laugh that morphs into more of a choke. His expression is filled with disbelief. 

"You're not mine." He speaks as if he is speaking to himself. "You're his."

"That is who you want to spend the rest of your life with? He talks to you like shit- the dirt beneath his shoes and you smile through the whole thing. The man who thinks you're his accessory- That is the man you love?"

Zoro badgers you. Moving his tongue as piercingly swift as you're sure, he can wield his swords. 

"I do not love that man." You choke.

"Then why?" The swordsman shouts. His exclamation wakes the small birds that have chosen the garden as their resting place. The sounds of their wings flapping away from the conflict fills the air. "Y/n ... why are you doing this to me?"

There is a frailness to his voice you don't recognize. Something so breakable about the way he utters your name. In the two months you had spent with Zoro you had never seen him show this much emotion.

"Zoro, if I could stay on the beach with you forever... I would. But I can't. I have people who need me-"

"I need you!" He professes, throwing his arms in the air. 

The way that Zoro bares his scars to you , when you could not do the same in return physically pains you. You force down the tears that dare to surface at his confession. Who were you to be hurt in a situation you hand crafted? To cry in the presence of a man who held his broken heart in his hands with hopes, you would fix it.

There's an immense sadness in your restraint, how you're able to still your body though every bone in you wants to wrap around him.  Reciprocate all the comfort Zoro so willingly gives to you. But this is not the beach-

"I'm so sorry Zoro. I'm so sorry." Your eyes shift to the ground. The tears are so much harder to fight off when you can see the confusion under his saddened expression.

Zoro cups your cheeks in his hands and for a fleeting moment there is no anger. There are only kisses shared under the stars, gasps fallen onto the sand, words of endearment lost to the wind. Love. For a second Zoro stares at you and there is only love.

"I don't want apologizes- " There's a shake in his breath. " I want you to tell me why I have to watch another man touch you.  Why he gets to hold you tonight instead of me. Tell me why you keep saying you love me, but you're going home to another man. Tell me the fucking truth!"

Even in his anger you can hear the worry in the pirate's voice. It takes you by surprise. Maybe malice hasn't taken up the space of affection in Zoro's heart after all. Maybe in all his poking and prodding Lee had only brought concern out of the first mate. The sweet sentiment physically aches. You turn your head, breaking free from his grasp.

"Leave Zoro- take your crewmates and go. I'm only going to hurt you if you stay, so please- go."

"... Is he why you need the sun to feel free?"

You're caught off guard by the swordsman's questions. Don't expect to hear your words echoed from his mouth. "Free". You could almost laugh hearing the word now. Freedom? What did you know about freedom? Always a pawn for someone else's will, your own desires to be placed on a shelf and expectantly forgotten.  This castle has always been your prison.

"I'll make sure you'd feel the sun everyday. I will drag it out the sky and place it in your hands if it will make you smile. I'll never trap you. I love you. Please- don't leave me." He begs.

Your body is moving on its own again, this time manipulated by the voice of the swordsman. Unsure of what has come over you, you're reaching out for Zoro, pulling him in closer. You know that you shouldn't. Especially not here and not now. But it does not stop you from standing on your tiptoes to press your lips into his.

The intention was for a quick kiss, just one last time to feel Zoro's lips on yours, but it's difficult not to savor the moment. To not search for another life, one where you could be together, in his mouth. The same desperation is displayed in the way Zoro grasps you. Tight. One hand tangled in your hair while the other on your waist. As if he could hold you tight enough to stay. He groans in displeasure why you finally pull away from him.

"Go Zoro. I'm only going to break you."

-

The sun has risen just enough to illuminate the desolate field. The early morning is still shying away from pushing out the darkness of night completely. You woke early enough to see Lee still had not returned home. Off doing something you are sure, is none of your business. 

You took the opportunity to sneak out to what used to be the lemon grove. Tears stream your face while you wonder what pushed you out here. What exactly it is that you're hoping to find amongst the ash.

The memories of your mother you can't get back? Pieces of the wooden swing you used to sit on in the summer? Evidence it was truly necessary to leave the swordsman in your past?

It's hard to focus on all you've lost when staring at the pile of rubble that is the villagers' homes. Their whole lives destroyed at a whim. You did this to them. Had you stayed home and behaved no one, not even the swordsman, would be in this situation.

"Wanna tell me what you're looking for?"

The whisper behind you sounds so familiar. There is a part of you that does not want to turn around, thinks it's better off not knowing who the voice belongs to. A bigger part of you itches with a need to know.

"Zoro."

"Maybe I can help you find it." There's a crooked smirk on his lips.

It's involuntary, the way your heart is instantly soothed at his arrival. Something it must have learned on its own while on the beach. You have to fight not to jump into his arms. Draw him into you with the wish to feel his lips again. 

" I thought I told you to leave..." you mutter.

"You did." The pirate agrees. Zoro moves from behind you, so you no longer have to crane your neck to look at him. He reaches to take your hand in his. His thumb traces the back of your hand, his touch so soft you almost don't feel it.  

"You're still here."

"You may have authority in this village, but the only person I take orders from is Luffy." He lets out a laugh.

The sound forces your brows to furrow to the center of your face. Where was his anger? His disappointment? Why wasn't he yelling at you? The last conversation you had with the swordsman had not gone the best. This warm welcome is the farthest reception you expected to receive.

"What?" He asks, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles your frown causes. You're surprised at the way you flinch when his fingertips touch your forehead, a reaction you hadn't had in at least a month.

Had it really only taken one night with Lee to erase all your expectations of being lovingly touched?

You can see Zoro's happy exterior waiver for just a moment at your knee jerk reaction. Still he does not draw away his fingers. Just trails them down so he can stroke your cheek. Still offering you a kind smile.

"Stop Zo..."  You're taking a step away before you can give into him. Pulling your hand away to further the distance.  "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see the lemon grove..." He uses the tip of his boot to kick at a burned shingle on the ground. "So much for that."

"Oh? You made it here all on your own?" In spite of your sorrows you laugh. "You didn't get lost?"

Zoro glares at you, his eyebrows raised to his temples. You suspect he hadn't expected you to join in on his light heartedness.

"I had to ask someone in the town square..." He sheepishly admits drawing an even more obnoxious laugh for your throat.

"Why were you looking for the lemon grove?"

"You don't remember?" He asks.

Even in your best memories of the beach, you never liked sand. The way it intrusively stuck to you, creeping its way into every nook and cranny made your skin crawl, but this beach was the expectation. You loved everything about this beach.

"Tell me something else." Zoro requests. His voice was softer than before- meeker after your supposed rejection.

You were still wrapped firmly in the swordsman arms, your head on his chest. Zoro's head had returned to rest on top of yours. A brisk breeze forced you closer to Zoro in search of warmth, the thin blanket almost whisked away at the gust. The sight drew a laugh from the pirate.

"Where would you be right now if you were home?"

The only location you could definitely think of was underneath the chief's thumb, but that surely couldn't be the answer the swordsman was looking for. It was hard to think of places in your village that still brought you joy. Places that hadn't been corrupted in the transition of power from your father to Lee.

"The lemon grove." You blurted out the second it came to you. There was a cheesy grin on your face while you reminisced. A grin that is met with a full blown smile from Zoro once he sees your joy. He leaned down to plant  a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw.

"Yeah? Why is that your favorite place?" His breath brushed against your neck.

"My mom used to take me there, and we would have picnics in the summer. There's this huge swing we'd sit on. It's my favorite place in the whole world."

"All that you've seen of it?" Zoro jokes. He caught your wrist when you went to slap his chest. Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He rubbed his finger back and forth over yours after planting one last kiss to your cheek.

"Maybe you can show it to me? When we get you home?"

Lee had never in the six months you'd been married bothered to visit the lemon grove. Just knew it was a sacred space for you , a memento to your mother. This was the first time you're grateful for that. That in the chief's vast kingdom there could still be a place that could be just Zoro and yours.

"I would love that Zo."

You smiled before craning your neck to plant a kiss on his lips.

"I wanted to see your favorite place." Zoro admits once he sees you remember. "I thought it might give me some insight." 

"Insight?" You parrot in confusion. 

"You're hiding something from me." Zoro states plainly, drawing your eyes to him.

"You found out I'm married, what else can I be hiding Zoro?" Your voice trembles with exhaustion.

The swordsman narrows his eyes as he looks you over. That fury, and fire previously seen in the garden is long gone . All that remains is this inquisitive stare.

"I don't know, but you are... I wish you would let me help you."

"Help me-" There is a feigned smile painted on your lips. How could a pirate of the new world be so... heartening. Surely the horrors he has seen, far exceed the small misfortunes of your life.

"Zoro. I already told you to go. "

"If you looked at me and told me you didn't mean any of it I would've left. Sailed away and tried for the rest of my life never to think of you again, but you didn't. You told me you love me-"

"I do."

Zoro plops down onto the ash filled ground. He crosses his arms against his chest, and stares out at the rubble.

"Then I'm not leaving. Until you tell me what's going on, what's actually happening, I'm not going anywhere."

The way your heart swells at his proclamation is treacherous. Allowing yourself to be swooned by actions that could very well get the both of you executed. You almost think it's sweet, if it wasn't so stupid.

"Why do you care? Zoro I hurt you, why are you still chasing me?"

"... because I meant it when I said I love you. And I know you meant it too."

"You deserve someone better than me Zoro. Someone who won't hold you back, someone who won't hurt you, someone worthy of standing next to the world's strongest swordsman."

"I don't care what you think I deserve. That's not a decision for you to make." Zoro snaps.

"Zoro... " You sigh exasperatedly at his rebuttal. "Do you really think I won't hold you back? That you will still become the world's strongest swordsman if I'm standing next to you?"

"I don't think I will become the world's strongest swordsman if you aren't standing next to me." 

There's a sharp breath forced into your lungs at his confession. How could he say that with such certainty. It has only been two months. The two of you should be able to forget each other. Move on as if none of this happened- but Zoro stands before you stating he doesn't know if his dream will come true without you. A dream he has been chasing his entire life. A dream you've only come privy to in the last 60 days. 

"Tell me you don't love me- I'll go. If you look me in my eyes right now and say it, I'll leave." He challenges.

You search for the words on your tongue, though you cannot find them. No parts of you willing, or wanting to lie to the swordsman.

"I can't."

-

Zoro has kept his promise. The strawhat crew joining you and your husband for breakfast, lunch, and now dinner going on the third day in a row. You wonder what the pirate is waiting for? A confession? An outcry for help? Don't know what actions would be satisfactory enough to get him to sail away.

In all of those days Zoro has sat in that same seat, to the right of you at every meal. Some meals he would lightly brush his knees back and forth against yours. At others he would 'accidentally' knock his napkin off the table so he could pinch your thighs. In spite of your best efforts to forget the swordsman exists, he seems all too insistent on making his presence known.

"So Luffy, when do you think you and your crew will be leaving?" Lee asks. His voice does well to mask the irritation you can pin in the twitch of his eye. "We'd love to send you all off with a ball."

You suspect Lee's urging of the Strawhats' departure correlates to his growing  suspicion of the swordsman. The chief may be many things, but naïve has never been one of them. He takes note of the way Zoro's eye never leaves you, regardless of whoever is speaking. How the swordsman just couldn't be bothered to feign interest whenever the chief commands the room. You had spent every one of these past nights disavowing your feelings for the swordsman.

"We're thinking soon- Wednesday at the latest." Nami answers before her captain has the opportunity to. He seems to wear a confused look that is soon dissipated by her scowl. 

Two days.

Although you had trained yourself not to go looking for the swordsman, your eyes immediately fall onto him at the navigator's words. Your concern is met with raised bows, almost a silent challenge from the pirate.

Did he expect you to profess your love there at the dinner table? To look at your husband and gloat in the love you've been able to find? Neither are options being the choice was not yours. Lee has done a great job in ensuring you did not have any choices.

"Oh, I'll get the staff on preparations immediately. We will hold the ball tomorrow." Lee's smile is filled with pleasure.

His wife had returned home, and soon the guests he had been performing for would be on their way. Everything is on the road to being back to normal. Exactly how you remembered it. The thought sends a shiver down your body.

"Maybe y/n can take us to the shop to find a dress?" Robin suggests.

Lee is apprehensive about letting you go. Obvious from the way his smile falters at the archeologists suggestion. But he never could deny a pretty woman. Begrudgingly he agrees.

Part III

************************************************************************

A/N: Part three is in the works , I'm hoping to not go more than a week between chapters, but please don't hold me to that. The ADHD will make me a liar. Thank you to all the beautiful people who care about my work, and have so many kind words.

Tag List: @turtletaubwrites @jinjen @sanzu-clinic @heyauntieeee @honeybuzzzzzz @nothing-but-brass

[genericpuff]

Scamlords is at it again.

A few nights ago, there was a sudden blow-up in the /r/webtoons server showing a new announcement from Snailords -

For anyone unaware, Death : Rescheduled has been on mid-season hiatus since October. And it's now, and only now, that Snailords has suddenly decided the comic is ending after it returns, but readers can get an extra 20 episodes... if they fork over $1k in merch sales.

Now, this could be a lot worse. They could be threatening not to return to the series at all unless their readers hand over money. But considering it's practically just one degree away from that, it's still pretty nasty. Not to mention, the further they divulged in their reasoning around this "idea", the more confusing it got.

They also even revived their @snailordsrant account on IG which, for those of you who were there and can recall, was the same account they used to put one of their own fans on blast over some very mild criticism.

None of this makes any actual sense, for several reasons:

1.) I literally fail to see how getting $1k in less than 24 hours is worth shoving in an extra mini arc of 10 episodes if you don't even have it planned out. Why do that to your audience or to yourself? Why drag things out just to scrounge up an emergency $1k? Why not just be honest with your audience and run a GoFundMe or just say , "Hey everyone, I've run into some financial troubles, I would really appreciate it if you could FastPass my newest episodes or donate to my Patreon or buy some merch so I can cover the costs". It's really telling that this shithead doesn't have enough confidence in themselves or their audience that practically worships them that they have to resort to this kind of underhanded shit to get the money they need. I wanna make it clear that this is NOT like a Kickstarter stretch goal or anything that incentivizes readers to support their work, they're instead holding the length and future of their series over their audiences' head (which they've done before) for money. That's not an incentive, it's an ultimatum.

2.) Maybe I'm misreading / being stupid (someone pls explain if I'm missing something here) but I literally don't see how their comment about working 50 hours a week explains why they're suddenly getting their fans to pay out $1k worth of merch in less than 24 hours. For anyone who doesn't know, $1k per episode is an example Webtoons uses in its post discussing how they pay out creators (this came after the platform got called out 2 years ago for paying creators too little, there are undoubtedly creators getting paid less). And yet for some reason $1k is apparently the difference between 10 episodes and 20? How does that add up? And is the bit about them wanting to buy boba supposed to be a joke? Where's the punchline here?

3.) They say they have writer's block and they want to use the money to "motivate them", but then just a few slides later they say 10-15 episodes is what would make them the "happiest" so which is it? Do they want to write 10 episodes or do they want people to pay them to write 20 episodes so they can draw the fluff scenes that they apparently want to draw? If you have an ending planned out, why rush it or drag it out depending on how this "fundraiser" goes? Why not just write the ending you want to write that will serve your story best? Why shove in an extra mini arc that you don't even have full confidence in writing and then try to compare it to a "super expensive cake"? What are you doing? Speaking as someone who's had trouble getting motivated in the past, suddenly getting a month's rent worth of money to do it doesn't necessarily solve that, it just turns up the pressure, and if you're not someone who deals with pressure well, then you're more likely to wind up just burning out entirely rather than fulfilling that goal.

4.) The fact that they did, in fact, hit their goal just makes it all the shittier to think about because their audience is mostly made up of teenagers who worship the ground that they walk on. It's horrifying that they keep pulling these stunts with their audience, and getting away with it to boot - and Webtoons, as a company, keeps enabling it by allowing it to happen by hosting and promoting people like this.

Anyways, there's already a lot going on here that's sketchy, but then... they went and deleted their posts. At the time of this happening (as I was there to witness it all play out in real time) I assumed this meant that they had hit their $1k goal - especially as they had been showing their progress on their IG and they were already at $900 after just a couple hours - but it gave me a sinking feeling seeing them delete it because they had also been called out by some brave readers telling them that it wasn't exactly a good look to essentially blackmail their audience through their own content into giving them money.

Snailords deleting it gave me a stronger impression of "burying the evidence", especially now that they had the money. By all accounts, they could do whatever they wanted now.

So what did they decide to do?

. . . Huh?

Okay, take a second to actually think about what Snailords has done here. Because I know some of you will go "oh, it was for charity all along! that was nice of them!" but . . . I don't know about the legalities of collecting donation funds under false pretenses, but morally speaking, it's a really shitty thing to do. They stripped away the choices - limiting them to three - of what their readers could donate to, and what I think their readers don't understand - due to being mostly teenagers - is that they're tax-exempt individuals and they just unknowingly gave Snailords an easy $1k tax write-off. You really, really shouldn't collect donation funds like this without being honest, it's just a shitty thing to do, especially after you've already collected the money. It mostly just comes across as damage control on Snailords' part to make it seem like they were always planning to donate to charity, when in reality, if they wanted to donate to charity, they would have been honest about that at the start. Again, even if they wanted to do that from the start, it goes to show how little confidence they have in themselves or their audience that they have to stoop to methods like these instead of just doing it honestly.

And do you really think Snailords will actually do those extra episodes? Or donate that money? This is the same asshole who has manipulated their readers for money not once but twice, and now seems intent on doing it a third time just for the charm. This is the same person who practically sabotaged their own comic, Freaking Romance, because they apparently didn't like the romance genre and may as well have only done it for clout / views / etc.

What was especially odd - and I found this out from folks who actually read Death : Rescheduled (I do not) - was finding out that it wouldn't make sense for D : R to end in as many as 25 episodes, because apparently, the plot has basically just gotten going.

So it does seem like this is foreshadowing that D : R will wind up just like Freaking Romance, rushed into an ending that wasn't expected. And this, of course, has the people who read their work confused because D : R was supposed to be Snailords' passion project, their magnum opus, the project they wanted to do. So them holding the timing of an ending that shouldn't even be happening yet for ransom contradicts that original intention. Really, it just goes to show that Snailords has no passion, they're just in it purely for the money, to a degree that I can't even cheer them on for being a hustler because it's missing the honesty and integrity.

And of course, every single time Snailords finds a way to backpedal and take his audience for a ride, they hop right in without a single thought for themselves.

And no, none of this is to hate on the readers directly, I hold Snailords entirely responsible for this - they have an audience of impressionable, naive, gullible teenagers, and they know it, and take advantage of it every chance they get. It's why they weren't just honest about wanting to collect money for charity from the start. It's why they resorted to basically holding their own comic's progression for ransom during its midseason hiatus. It's why the deadline was 24 hours and why the posts are now gone.

Thankfully the Internet does what it does - any evidence that Snailords was trying to bury is now all over reddit, and hey, just for good measure, here's a post on Tumblr that's been sitting in my drafts for days now, days after people have already seemingly stopped talking about it. Don't let anyone bury or forget about the stunts Snailords is pulling on their audience, with a platform that they've been consistently given by Webtoons, because that's what they want you to do.

[obsessedasusual]

History Repeats - Happy Lowman

Summary: xReader - The club going into lockdown shouldn't be of concern to you anymore, you got out. Happy thinks otherwise.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, mentions of anxiety

Note: 2k - return of the Happy!!! The way I've had this half written in my docs for over a year...... I'm beyond excited to finally get it out!

You had locked the door last night.

You had.

Surely you had locked it. You always locked it.

So the only reasonable explanation to the creaking floorboards down your hallway at 6am was… a cat? Yeah, a cat.

A very heavy cat that took large footsteps towards your room.

You gripped the bedsheets tighter as you pulled them further over your face, hoping they would act as some sort of a shield when the large cat, presumably walking on two legs, inevitably barged into your room. 

Another shaky breath escaped your body as you listened to the footsteps draw nearer.

Calling the cops was a bit difficult when your phone was charging over the room on your dresser. And it’s not like you had a weapon handy. God you could hear his voice clear as day in your head, knowing exactly what he’d say if he were here. Harping on about how you should at least have a knife stashed somewhere in your bedroom and a gun in every other room of the house.

You stayed frozen in place, eyes squeezing shut as the door handle turned, and the door was thrown open without an ounce of care.

“Get the fuck up.” a gruff voice spoke from the doorway.

What the?

You tugged the covers down to your chin and peered across the room in disbelief, “What the fuck, Happy?!”

He gave a single nod before speaking again, “Up. Now.”

Mouth hung open, you could do nothing but stare up at your ex.

“No? No- what the hell are you doing here, Happy? In my house at six in the fucking morning!” Pushing yourself to sit up in bed you continued to stare at the man you hadn’t spoken to in months, “Seriously, Happy. Start speaking. How the hell did you get in here anyway? If you broke a fucking window I swear to-”

“You need to hide your spare key better. Now get up.”

A silence fell between you for a second.

“My spare ke- hey!” your train of thought was interrupted by the tall biker walking forward and ripping the duvet away from your body. In your surprise you didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly flew down your pyjama-clad body before looking toward the still-closed curtains.

“Get your ass out of bed.”

This time you listened and climbed out of bed, stomping toward your dresser to find a change of clothes, “Seriously, Happy,” you huffed as you changed shirts, “You can’t- you can’t barge into my house like this. I thought you were a burglar or something. Do you realise how unsettling that is for a single woman?”

“Good thing I’m not a fucking burglar then.”

You tugged on a pair of jeans and rolled your eyes before turning to face him, “Why are you here, Happy? Seriously?”

He met your gaze only briefly before turning back to the windows and peeping out the curtain, “I need you to pack a bag. Change of clothes. Book probably too.”

Eyebrows pulling together in confusion you stared at the back of his head, “A book? Happy. What’s going on?”

“Club’s on lockdown.”

Your confusion only grew, “A lockdown? Jesus, Happy,” you dragged your hands over your face. “What does that have to do with me? Why do I have to get dragged away too.”

He turned and met your eyes properly then, “You know why.”

Breaking his stare you faced the carpet, “Happy… this is… fucking dumb. What the fuck happened? We have been done since months ago. I’m in no danger. In fact - I’m probably in more danger with you here.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Pack a bag. We’re going.”

This wasn’t supposed to be how your Saturday went. You had left these sorts of Saturdays in the past. The uncertainty, the danger, all of it had been left the day you left the man currently standing in your bedroom seven months ago.

With only a defeated sigh in response you shrugged, counting your losses and turned back to your drawers, pulling out a couple of changes of clothes and stuffing them into a nearby backpack.

When you turned back toward Happy you found him already staring your way. Quickly breaking eye contact you dramatically gestured out the bedroom door, “After you.”

He stared for a moment longer before moving out the door, you following diligently.

“Okay,” you started as you reached the front door, “I’ll meet you there.”

The speed at which Happy spun around to face you would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the death glare that graced his face, “Like hell. You’re coming with me.”

You threw your hands up in frustration, “Happy, c’mon! You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re coming with me.”

Taking a deep breath to stop whatever snarky remark that was about to escape your lips you nodded, “Fine. Whatever. Can I at least have breakfast before we go?”

“There’s food at the club. Let’s go.” WIthout another word he was out the door and striding toward his bike, leaving you to lock the door and tuck your key - both keys - away in the backpack. Following after the biker you grabbed the helmet from his outstretched hand and tugged it on.

You jumped in fright when the Harley roared to life, catching the way Happy’s shoulders jostled as he chuckled.

Sighing heavily at the situation you were faced with you begrudgingly climbed on behind your ex and secured your hands on his waist.

“You good?” he grunted over his shoulder.

“Just go.”

The wind rushing at you as Happy took off down the street felt like a thousand memories you had fought to forget just slapping you in the face all at once.

The smell of being on the Harley was something you hadn’t realised you’d come to miss. Was it the smell of the rubber? The fumes from the exhaust? The scent of the man in front of you?

No, it was definitely the fumes from the exhaust.

-

Pulling into the Teller Morrow lot was when the weight of what was happening really set in.

More bikes than usual were lined up at the ready, people with children were piling out of cars, sleeping bags in hand, and food was being unloaded left and right, with guns being handled ‘discreetly’ by the Sons.

It had been many months since you had stepped foot near the club. And just as many since you’d spoken to any of the Sons. Well, bar Juice who you’d seen at the store a few weeks back. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. 

As Happy slowed to a stop, signalling for you to jump off before he backed his bike in line with the others, you swore you could feel a million eyes on you. It was as if everyone on the property was staring at you. 

This wasn’t the case of course. With the feeling of danger and caution in the air everyone was worried about their own loved ones and whatever job they’d been given. Truth be told, you didn’t recognise a lot of the faces around you. So they sure as hell wouldn’t know you from a bar of soap.

Still, no matter the case, the anxiety pooled in your stomach.

Anxiety had always been present in your life. Making itself known first in high school and popping up every now and then when it felt like messing with you.

Happy seemed to pick up on your switch in mood, from angry to anxious and lightly spoke from behind, “Everybody’s busy doing their own thing. You don’t need to stop and talk, just head to the back rooms.”

You nodded at his words, eyes still locked on the scenes unfolding in front of you. You didn’t move until you felt the tattooed man nudge you slightly.

Sticking close to Happy, as much as you’d love to run in the opposite direction, you slowly made your way into the hectic clubhouse. 

It was like stepping back in time, you’d done this exact thing multiple times with Happy, the lockdown. The children running wild inside, a group of hangarounds in the kitchen, families huddling nervously at the walls. 

There had been a time when you’d have gone up to those families with a fresh pot of coffee and some baking, helping to reassure them that it would all be okay. How the tables turn.

As you peererd around you noticed the doors to chapel were open, Sons inside counting guns. Your eyes moved over the men, noting who you recognised, Tig, Bobby and Jax, and who must’ve been from other charters.

Seemingly feeling your gaze on him, Jax turned his head and caught your eyes. With not an ounce of shock or surprise in his stare, he nodded at you with a knowing tight-lipped smile, welcoming you back into this world of chaos.

It wasn’t until you finally reached Happy’s dorm that you let out a deep breath. It was quieter back here, mostly out of bounds unless you had the okay from the members, which you apparently did.

You pushed the door open and were once again hit with an alarming wave of nostalgia. Happy’s dorm looked exactly the same. It was relatively bare, but tidy.

It was too familiar. It felt too normal being back here. Like the last seven months hadn’t happened, like they didn’t matter. 

You could feel yourself getting worked up and turned to face the man you had spent years loving.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed, studying you from his spot.

“Why am I here, Happy? It’s been months. You just turn up at sunrise after months of no contact  to play a knight in shining armour? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t mean enough to you to warrant being here.”

He just stared at you in silence, like he knew you’d get pissed whether he answered or not.

“I’ve been trying to move on with my life!” You continued, now sitting on the edge of his bed, “I’ve been working so hard to forget everything between us. To forget the fucking club. I just - I just want a normal life. I want to be able to come home after work and relax with my partner. I want to complain about my boss. I want to get annoyed about the ads on TV. I want my biggest problem to be figuring out what’s for dinner each night.”

You took a deep breath and stared down at your lap before admitting, “I just want boring.”

Still frozen in his spot, Happy finally spoke up, “You’d hate boring.”

You gave a dry laugh at his response and looked up at him with defeated eyes, “So what then? I just have to stay stuck in this weird in between?”

A silence fell between you as your words hung in the air. 

Relieved you’d been able to get those thoughts out of your system, you fell back onto Happy’s bed.

The silence lasted so long you wondered if you’d dozed off and he’d snuck out of the room when he spoke up, “Stay in here. I’ll send someone in with food later.”

You closed your eyes and listened as he turned and opened the door, ready to leave and do whatever the Sergeant at Arms does during a lockdown, noting the way his movement paused before he spoke again,

“I’m sorry I had to bring you back here.”

As he left and softly shut the door behind him, the first of your tears finally fell.

[f4irys4n]

this isn't us pt1

park jisung x afab!reader

tags gender neutral terms. cliche best friends to lovers trope. reader and jisung are both at uni. jisung is an art student. jisung pining over another person. jealous reader. jisung being a bit of a dick. arguments upon arguments. a lot of angst. mark looking out for you. jealous jisung. lots of swearing. jisung being very indenial. mutual stuborness. slight mentions of blood. violence and fights. kissing. a lot of crying. there will be a pt2 with smut.

wc 3k

one month.

one whole fucking month since you last spoke to jisung.

you were as stubborn as each other, everyone around you both knew that, and everyone around you knew that no matter how much they pushed you to speak to one another; it wasn't happening. the stubbornness, however, was only making things worse. the longer you went without speaking, the more resentment built up.

it all started over one particular topic. well, person.. jung jieun.

it was her second year at our univeristy, and your friendship group; jisung and you included; had all gotten much closer ever since her first few weeks.

ever since jieun was thrown into the picture, it allowed jisung to worm his way in. and what came with this was jisung slowly drawing away from you, and being attached to jieun's hip.

maybe you were jealous, you didn't deny that, but it just hurt that your best friend of 3 years started leaving you on read for days at a time and was willing to drop you any time of the day just to meet her as if all the time you'd spent together didn't matter to him anymore.

you're not usually one for confrontation, you avoid arguments and any sort of tension like the plague, but the way he was acting caused something to boil inside you and it caused you to snap.

you and jisung had plans to go to the cafe right next to campus after your final lessons of the day, and that caused excitement to bubble in your stomach. that was until he cancelled, babbling on about how he was ill and couldn't muster the effort to even get out of bed but denied all your offers to come over and look after him; like you've always done these past few years; only then to see him not long after this conversation walking to this said cafe with nobody but jieun herself.

now that hurt. that hurt a lot.

it's not like you could even be mad at jieun. she was your friend, possibly even one of your closest, and had absolutely zero interest in jisung. promising you it was solely platonic after overhearing you talking to your best friend, lola, about how you might have a 'small' crush on jisung.

but jisung, on the other hand, you were beyond mad at.

it started off with you ignoring his already very few messages, not even bothering to open them days after they were sent, despite him so obviously seeing you on your phone in lessons and around the halls of uni. and after a week or so you, you just started avoiding him completely, too scared you'd end up saying something you didn't mean out of angry if you spoke to him.

that was until he cornered you one day whilst you were in your dorm. so apparently annoyed at how you were ghosting him for so long, completely oblivious to how they were a result of his own actions.

"what have i done?" jisung asks bluntly, standing in your doorway so it was difficult for you to budge past him to avoid having this conversation.

"you'll have to be more specific," you countered, trying to shut down any sort of argument as fast as possible.

"you're obviously ignoring me and i just want to know what i've done wrong."

you scoff slightly, unable to hold it in. this made jisung cock up his eyebrow in confusion, curious as to what that was for.

"as if you don't know... everyone else has noticed it, why haven't you?" you sigh, trying your best to move past his taller build and get inside your room.

"clearly not. or i wouldn't be asking," he snaps sarcastically, his jaw tensing a little.

"maybe that's the problem."

you shove past him, attempting to slam the door behind you but he was too quick, squeezing himself through the door before it could close fully.

"look.. i don't know what i've done but-" "you've been fucking ignoring me for weeks!" you yell, taking jisung by surprise, his eyes wide in shock. he can't recall you ever yelling, not once in the 3 years you'd been friends.

"plans upon plans cancelled, rescheduled and cancelled again," you continue, venom dripping from your tongue. "we're supposed to be best friends, best fucking friends, and it takes you 5 days to reply to a message from me yet you can spend every waking minute with jieun."

"so this is what it's about?" jisung snapped back, pocking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "fucking jieun?" "well.. i apologise for wanting to hang with a friend that isn't you for once."

"jisung! you're not getting it!" you yell, slamming your books down onto your desk in frustration.

"what am i not getting, y/n?" jisung yells back, hands balled up in anger. "that jieun's more fun that you? that she's easier to hang out with than you? that she's not as annoying as you? that she's basically better than you in general? because no! i get that, y/n! i completely get that." it left you speechless, hands shaking subtly as you try and hold in the sob you so desperately wanted to let out. you daren't even look at him.

jisung didn't even bother to look back at you before he stormed out, muttering something under his breath as he slammed the door behind him.

once you were certain he was gone, a loud sob left your mouth, tears immediately running down your face. your closest friend had just walked out on you, and you were more than certain that he wasn't even planning on coming back.

and that's what brings us to the present day.

one month without speaking to jisung.

you pretend to like it doesn't hurt, that it doesn't bother you, but it really does. seeing him walk away whenever you go to speak to mark or lola, not even wanting to breathe the same air as you anymore.

you were sitting in your room with lola, she was telling you about how she overheard mark and jisung having an argument, and she believed it could have been about you.

"mark said something about jisung being selfish," lola said, scrolling through her phone as she spoke. "he said that jisung was hurting someone, that someone being you, and that it was unfair he treated them that way. jisung obviously didn't like it, saying that there was a reason he was ignoring you."

"sounds about right, but what does he expect?" you ask lola "he can't just drop me for someone else all the time and expect me to still be all over him."

"don't you worry.. i'll ask mark all about it when i go to his dorm later," she grins.

"god.. your relationship makes me feel morbidly single."

you both continued to chat for around 10 minutes before you heard a knock at the door. lola jumps up to answer, a frown appearing on her face as the door opens.

"who is it?" you ask, before turning your head to glance at the doorway.

jisung.

"i'll... uh, leave you two alone," lola mumbles, quickly grabbing her things and hurrying out the door.

it was silent for a moment. it was suffocating. like a grip on your neck so tight it felt like you were gasping for air. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, not wanting to see the barren look on his face.

he cleared his throat as if he was about to speak, but nothing came out, the silence lingering on for much longer.

"if you have something to say, just say it," you mumble, flicking through the pages of your homework, still not being able to build u the courage to look at him.

"i just- i just wanted to say-" he paused for a moment "-could you please look at me?" he asks.

your head raised slowly, eyes looking straight into his for the first time in what felt like years. his were red and puffy, they almost looked sore to touch; like he'd been crying nonstop for this entire month of no contact. gazing at him for the first time in a month felt terrifying, and it honestly brought butterflies to your stomach.

you almost felt joyful that he was here, but then his cruel words came flooding back in. 'that enid's more fun than you? she's easier to hang out with than you? she's not as annoying as you? that she's basically better than you in general?' and it made your heart tighten, and your stomach feel the same sickness it experienced that day.

"may i?" he asks gently, pointing towards the empty space on your bed, and you nod, mind feeling too fuzzy to even speak.

he once again stumbles on his words, unable to get anything out that was understandable or could even pass as an actual sentence. he takes a deep breath, inching closer to you until your noses were almost touching.

"i'm sorry.." he mumbles, and you could truly tell he was, but after what he said; that wasn't enough. sorry wasn't ever going to be enough. before you even had time to think, his lips were pressed against yours and you couldn't help but melt at the feeling.

despite this being all you've ever wanted, it still felt wrong, it felt forced. so you pulled away, to jisung's surprise of course. "w-what.." he stuttered, looking at you with a saddened expression on his face.

"y-you- you can't just-" you stumble on your words, not being able to think of what to say, your mind so clouded by the feeling of jisung's lips on yours.

jisung stood up, looking worried, questioning whether he had made a mistake and whether he should have even turned up in the first place.

"you can't just kiss me like that!" you scolded, tears welling in your eyes as you stared at him, what seemed like hatred feeling your eyes. "you can't kiss me and expect everything to be okay, not after everything you've said! you don't get to say sorry and kiss me, things don't work that way jisung," you continued, feeling even more hurt than before.

"but i thought you- i thought you liked me.."

"whether i do or not, you can't just come here and kiss me like that after what you said to me. you can say you're sorry all you want but you don't accidentally say those things, you only say stuff like that if you truly believe it," you spoke, voice shaky whilst sticking up for yourself.

"i see.. yeah.. i get it" jisung chuckles sadly "dont worry, y/n," he says in an almost bitter tone. storming out just like he did a month prior.

in that moment, you pulled out your phone and messaged chenle.

'hey.. can we talk :)'

mark: 'of course! right now? i'm free!'

'please.. it's about jisung.. meet in the courtyard in 10, it's late so barely anyone will be there'

mark: 'sounds great! see you soon!'

jisung storms back to his dorm, slamming his door behind him due to the anger built up inside him.

so much rage and aggression was trying to claw his way out, that he let out a straight yell, knocking over one of his art desk.

after breathing for a moment, he picked up the canvas, noticing it was ripped down the middle. it was a painting of you; he hadn't been able to get you out of his thoughts, his mind racing back and forth, burdened by the image of you all day long. and whenever he feels, he paints. that's why almost all of his entire workload recently was infested with images of you, some small sketches, others big canvas pieces fit for a gallery.

"what am i gonna do?" he mumbles to himself, chucking himself down onto his bed and running his hand through his hair in defeat.

honestly, he was so confused and didn't even know how he was feeling anymore. for a while, he was convinced he liked jieun, seeing her every day caused a spark inside him to light up and he chose to chase it. but then there's you, he'd never noticed it until after the argument, but being away from you, not speaking to you or even being able to indulge in your presence was physically painful.

seeing you every day but feeling too ashamed to speak to you felt like something worse than torture, it became too much that he was convinced he'd rather die than be away from your bright light. after feeling such loss, despite still seeing you around, made him realise he didn't like jieun half as much as he thought.

the constant longing he felt for you, the need to be around you and see you, to touch and hear you was all too much for jisung.

he started to realise that he liked you. he.. he loved you.

and suddenly those 3 years of friendship didn't feel so platonic at all. it felt like every second you knew each other, you were in love.

i mean who platonically spoons their friends until they fall asleep, who platonically gives their friends forehead kisses, who platonically would do anything and everything for their friend just because they had asked you too.

"but now she hates me.." jisung whispers, eyes welling up in shame.

you stepped towards the bench you spotted mark sitting at.

barely anyone else was around at this time, besides two girls you recognised from one of your classes sitting towards the main doors gossiping about some random boy you'd never heard of.

"hey," mark hummed, giving you a comforting smile. "lola told me jisung came to see you earlier..."

"he kissed me," you blurt out. "w-what?" mark choked, extremely shocked by jisung's sudden and bold move.

"he kissed me," you repeated "he didn't even say anything, he didn't explain himself or anything of the sort. he just said two fucking words; i'm sorry; and then kissed me, and thought everything would be okay. i said he can't say or do what he did and expect a kiss to make everything better, and then he stormed off once again."

"i told him to talk to you... just not like that," mark sighed at the younger boy's actions. sure, chenle wanted you both to get along again; you were two of his best friends and seeing you not involved anymore was heartbreaking for him and the rest of the group, but he didn't think jisung would be so tone-deaf to the situation.

you and mark talked for a good hour, originally about jisung but then you delved into other topics as he saw talking about the boy was really starting to get you down, surely some other conversation would take your mind off things.

and suddenly, there he was again; jisung slumped through the doors that lead to the doors, instantly making eye contact with you and mark giggling at whatever you two were talking about at the time, and he saw red. he knew full well that mark was with lola, he knew you saw mark as an older brother but that didn't stop his mind from wandering and creating impossible scenarios as to why you were both out here so late. alone. together.

"what the fuck?" jisung yelled, thankfully, anyone else that was sitting outside was long gone. he approached you and mark, jaw clenched just like his fists. "what the fuck is this?"

"what is what?" mark asks in confusion at the boy's sudden surge of aggression.

"this!" jisung yells, pointing at the two of you. "whatever this is!"

"it's a couple of friends... talking," you reply dryly.

"talking about what? huh?"

"you.." mark chuckled "and how much of a dick you're being. playing with people's emotions isn't cool, man. kissing them? what were you thinking? did you really think kissing them would fix everything? don't be so delusional. do you even like them?"

"yes! of course i fucking do!" jisung replies. you could see the anger in jisung's face rising, not pleased by mark's constant digs. "and then i come out here to you and them giggling and being too friendly," he spits.

"at least i'm being nice, jisung. treating them how they're supposed to be treated," mark growls back, becoming progressively annoyed with how one of his best friends was acting towards you and the situation. "someone has to fucking do it," he finishes, rolling his eyes.

"don't you think- i've always fucking tried... you will never-" and suddenly, jisung's fist came in contact with mark's face, not even finishing his own sentence due to how much rage he was being to see.

"jisung! what the hell!" you yell, holding mark whose nose was now dripping crimson red. "what the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

"i.. i.. don't know," jisung stutters, not being able to process what just happened. "mark.. i'm sorry- i really didn't mean to. i just- i couldn't stop myself!"

"jisung just leave," you mutter, trying to clean u what blood you can with the sleeve of your shirt. but he just stood there, watching you, unable to speak or do anything at all. "i said leave!" you yelled again, tears in your eyes as he began to walk away.

it'd been a few days since anyone had heard or seen anything from jisung. but at this point, not many of you really wanted to see jisung in the first place, not after everything he's done. he was constantly in his room, locked up, painting pieces for days on end.

no sleeping, no eating, no nothing.

for once, he was truly alone, and he didn't like it at all.

in the few days of isolation, he managed to complete the biggest painting he'd ever done. it was an abstract piece, a result of him just throwing random paints at the canvas in anger to see how it'd turn out, and to his surprise, after some touching up, the image started to look just like you.

he smiled at the painting, remembering how beautiful you were at all points of the day. you were the most stunning person he'd ever laid eyes upon, no wonder you made such a perfect piece of art.

in that moment, his eyes started to tear up. he was worried, fear coursing through his veins with every beat of his heart.

he was honestly terrified; terrified of losing you.

and he feared that he already had.

[findingnemosworld]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. ( 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 )

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥 𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞 ��𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬.

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 + 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩*𝐫𝐧.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐲𝐲𝐲𝐲

His lips trail sweet; sensual kisses across the curvature of her spine drawing out a soft sigh from her trembling lips, lust coursed through her veins , enveloping her like a warm blanket on an icy winter morning, his lips trailed back up to tug on her ear before whispering with a deep tone, " I've missed you so fucking much love "

If only she could believe him, it seemed as if lying was second nature when it came to him — one minute he'd shower her with unconditional love, the next she finds herself left there with merely images clouding her mind. " If you miss me that much you wouldn't have been busy flirting with that blonde intern working in the training center last week when I came to visit "

He chuckles at her remark, recounting what had transpired a week ago, in his defense — it wasn't anything serious yet she had to make such a big deal out of it, " Oh come on love, it wasn't serious "

" It wasn't serious " She reiterated incredulously, tilting her head to face him as he continued peppering kisses across her soft skin. " You introduced me as your girl and then no more than three hours later, you had your tongue down her throat "

He turns her over to lay on her back as he caged her between his arms, " I don't know what the problem is, we agreed that this wasn't serious "

She sits up with a hardened expression across her face, " We agreed that it wasn't serious but we didn't agree on you treating me like I was your girlfriend but then turn around and claim I'm just a friend whenever you see fit "

He was taken back by her reaction, " Where's all this coming from? " he asks, in pure surprise.

" It's been pent up for ages, I'm tired Trent, I'm tired of dancing in circles — you only tell me you want me when it's fitting for you, when the girl you're with isn't good enough and then I'm stuck with your constant lies for a future that isn't even happening, so I'm done pretending there is hope " She proceeds to leave the bed in search of her clothes whilst he sits there completely shocked by her outburst.

_

It had been three months since they'd last seen one another — he tried to shift his focus more on football while she made more effort to thrive as a content creator/model which hadn’t been facile yet it seemed to work as in no time, she’d been receiving more offers to set her foot into professional modeling which ultimately lead to being invited to the D&G show during the PFW.

The exact same show he just so happened to be invited in.

Cameras flashed as they posed in different directions — all the while she attempted to ignore his presence, he seemed too enthralled by her presence to even look away, so much so – that by the time the show finished; it was time for the after party, he couldn’t resist the thrill of approaching her.

" You look incredible! " He exclaimed the moment he stood next to her at the bar area.

" I know " She retorts with a playful tone.

He chuckles then takes a sip of his drink before stating, " You know I missed you these past few months "

She chuckled softly, " Always a charmer with those lies, they never failed to leave a bad taste in my mouth "

" I’m not lying love " He states with a soft smile.

" Trent I know you, lying is like second nature to you — " She said, taking small sips of her drink before adding with a soft tone. " And for some odd reason I keep falling for it because a part of me continues to live with the hope that you’ll acknowledge the bond that we have is true "

His heart shatters into a million pieces, he whispers hoarsely. " I’m .. " he swallowed the lump in his throat, " I’m sorry … "

" It doesn’t matter … " She murmurs, " We moved on "

A brief wave of silence passed between them before he stated with a soft tone, " I didn’t … "

Her head shot up to meet his tender gaze and for a moment, she wonders if there is a hint of truth behind him; yet, as soon as the match flickers inside of her mind, the darkness clouds above, diminishing any hope of them becoming anymore than a pair of lost souls that cannot seem to crawl past the muddy waters that is their unresolved issues.

" I want to believe it … I want to believe that you love me, but the fact is … you only ever think of me when the girls you’re with aren’t up to your standards so I’m sorry Trent but I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep running in circles " She said.

He watched with a torn expression as she walked away from him — his heart shattering even further at the sight before him, she embraced someone else, she was here with another man, he should have known that nothing ever lasts forever.

He was the one that shattered her entirely.

He was the one who’d woven vague promises only to shatter them with the grip of his hand.

He was the one that gave her the world then swiftly took it away.

And he will be the one to live with the ache for all eternity, the ache of losing her forever.

[bredstick]

Artist! Male reader x Architect! Kaveh

You draw Kaveh as one of your frienchgirls~

NSFW! SoftDom!Kaveh x Sub!Reader

During these 3 months of dating Kaveh, he has already grown accustomed to you asking him if he could pose for you, show you his pretty delicate hands, and in general his face. He was your official muse.

But he wasn't thinking ahead of time, what else you'd like him to show you to fulfill your, specifically said, anatomy knowledge.

When you came to Kaveh's place stressed from work, all you wanted to do is lay in your lover's arms all night. But you also wanted to ask the big question that you weren't sure when the right time would be for it, but you were impatient. "Would you please undress for me?" sounds a bit perverted, while even telling him about you wanting to draw his body makes you quite concerned that he'd be creeped out by the idea. But you were ready to risk it all, Kaveh is understanding and it wouldn't be a problem, would it?

When you made up your mind, you opened the bedroom door and upon seeing those bright red eyes, there was no way nervousness wouldn't crawl through your body. You felt sweat forming in your clutched fist, your throat closing up as Kaveh looked at you with a gentle smile, happy you came to visit him. You see, he gave you another spare key so you can come to his place freely- it took a while to convince Al Haitham to trust you with the access to their home though.

You slowly walked over to him, trying to hide your nervousness by smiling back, sitting down on his bed and letting out a big sigh. Kaveh looked at you intently, sitting at his desk with many architectural blueprints, leaning back against his chair. "How are you? There seems to be something troubling you." He says in a soft tone, fiddling with his fingers.

"Ah, it's nothing! It's just been a very tiring day for me so far.." you look away, a slight blush coating your cheeks. You were always easy to read, Kaveh thought. Deciding to know more about the true intention of your actions, he stood up from his desk and stood right infront of you, his hands on his waist.

You look up at him, feeling even more nervous by the proximity of your bodies, unable to speak at all. The most you did with Kaveh in these past couple of months was hold hands and kiss, but nothing else other than supporting eachother's lives. You weren't sure how to take a more intimate approach.

"Tell me, it can't be that bad. I hope you're not keeping anything from me!" he says, slightly pouting while looking down at you. You looked down again, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, as you mumble out your question; "Can... can you help me out with anatomy practice...?" your voice was shaky as you spoke, looking at his feet. There was a moment of silence engulfing the room, making it seem like he hasn't said a word in hours until he softly spoke up;

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'll always help you with your practices, no matter how embarrassing the pose may be," he chuckled lightly, looking down at you with a slight blush on his cheeks. He kneeled down, looking into your eyes as he mumbled; "Just tell me what to do. If you need any part of my clothing removed, I'll do it." Kaveh was always the one who was passionate about art, why were you even nervous?

Your stomach has never had this many butterflies floating around, looking into his eyes excitingly as you gripped your sketchbook on the bed, smiling up at him as you opened up your sketchbook.

-

Kaveh is now sprawled against his white silk bedsheets, almost naked if it weren't for his boxers. He looked like sleeping beauty, his little stretchmarks across his hips glowing and his soft pecs and milky toned skin, not to mention his soft pinkish nipples begging to be touched, all on display for you and you only to draw every curve and outline of his body. Your mind was racing, looking at every inch of his body, praying to god that you can imprint it into your brain forever.

"Tell me when you're done, I've thought about a pose you might like." he told you while fiddling with his boxer strap. You were too busy drawing to realise how innapropriate that sounds, humming in concentration, sitting on the bed next to him.

When you were done, you looked up at him with a smile, turning your aketchbook around to show the drawing you were very much proud of- your innocent smile dropped when you locked eyes with his- his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, biting his lip anxiously.

Your heart started beating faster, immediately realising why he was looking at you like that. Your stomach was doing backflips, trying to control yourself. "...Why aren't you saying anything?" you mumble, blush spreading across your cheeks by the sudden silence.

Kaveh sat up close to you, kooking at the drawing closely. He blushes a deep shade of red, observing every pencil stroke carefully. "You're an excellent artist, the details are perfect- and you did it in such short time!! How long has it been? Twenty minutes??" I guess he snapped out of his previous mood, you thought, as you smiled at him thanking him for the compliments.

Suddenly he took your sketchbook out of your hands, carefully putting it on his nightstand. As your face contorted into confusion, he kissed you softly.

As you were opening your mouth in protest of you not processing it at all, he quickly shoved his tongue down your throat. The sounds of heavy breaths and soft moans filled his bedroom, as he slowly pushed you down, hovering over you, not breaking the heated kiss.

Once you fully processed the situation, heat started to spread across your body, knowing what Kaveh wants. This is the first time you'll do it together. It makes you a bit nervous, but you trust him.

As you two break the kiss for some air, he looks at you softly, holding your hand as he whispers; "Do you want to... take the next step? Tell me,.." he waited in anticipation, seeing you nod loosely, "Say it please, I want you to be completely sure." "Yes," you said quickly, the nervousness taking over you yet again.

-

Your loud moans were heard all across his room, biting your hand to shut yourself up as every part of your body was flushed in embarrassment, your legs spread wide open with Kaveh inbetween them, fingering you skillfully.

"You're taking 2 of my fingers so well dear," he looked down at your face, gripping one of your thighs, "Can you take three for me darling?" he says slowly, your dick twitching at his words, Kaveh rubbing your tip in a circular motion. You were so immersed in the pleasure that all you could do was say a couple of words mushed up together- he slowly added another finger, causing you to whimper softly, feeling more needy every dying second of the experience. At this point you didn't care how needy you sound, so all you were mumbling about was you needing him inside of you. Kaveh found this quite adorable, looking down at you with a smirk and kissing your neck, suddenly biting down and stroking your cock quicker.

"Puh-please!! Please- hnn.." you muffled out nonsense as a big wave of pleasure danced across your body, pulling Kaveh closer by hugging his hips with your legs, making his obvious erection rub against your ass as he whimpered slightly.

As he finally put it in, he waited for a moment waiting for your plea to start moving- eventually bottoming out and gripping your hips tightly. He kept thrusting fast then slow, trying to find a good rhythm- which you weren't even focused on. You were focused on his chest, going up and down as his pretty and soft looking nipples were encouraging you to touch them- to make them swollen.

Kaveh let out a loud gasp as he picked up his pace, your mouth working wonders on his left nipple and fondling with the other, occasionally letting out whimpers and moans yourself. This is heaven, you thought, arching your back and making him hit your prostate several times as you release his nipple- he hugs you tightly, burying his face into your neck letting out high pitched whines as his hips started to lose their pace, signalling that his orgasm is near.

You grip his blonde locks as tears start forming in your eyes, whining his name repeatedly as both of you came undone at the same time, your breaths rigid as he was still buried inside of you and holding you tight, not letting you go.

He props himself up on his elbows, looking at you with pure adoration;

"You're so incredibly divine," he exclaims, and starts thrusting into you again as you take a sharp breath from the overstimulation, gripping his forearms in protest. "I-I wanna ride you please- I wanna draw you from underneath me," you breathed out, making Kaveh slightly flustered as he pulled out of you, allowing you to go on top.

The whole night consisted of both of you trying out different positions, while you got the best anatomy practice drawings you'll ever need- maybe they can be used for the time your boyfriend is on a long trip away from you~

[f1letters]

vigilante shit | pg10 x cl16

"you did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them"

summary: revenge is served cold and it tastes especially sweet when it involves his best friend

warning: angst, toxic relationship, toxic reader, revenge, suggestive language, swearing, no cheating (since they are not together), a little choking? (lol this took a turn)

pairing: pierre gasly x reader, charles leclerc x reader

word count: 3.4k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

french words used: mon ange = my angel; bébé = baby; ma chérie = my darling

we are officially back after last weekend! (please, let's NOT talk about it, I'm still in denial lol) 😂 I guess this story needs a shoutout to my toxic ex? thank you wherever you are in the world for the inspo! haha 😂 anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it as always!

masterlist

Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Sometimes I wonder which one'll be your last lie

They say looks can kill and I might try

A cat eye sharp enough to kill a man was the first step necessary to a killing night.

Y/N made sure her siren eyes were on point as she got ready for the party that night. It wasn't the first drivers' party she attended since she had become a frequent presence in the paddock for the last few months. But, boy, was it a special one.

This was her time to seek revenge. 

Toxic? Perhaps. But the Machiavellian side of her didn't care. Her eyes were seeing red. 

And red was her theme: her bright cherry-red lips, her long silk red dress, and the luscious red heels at the end of her smooth legs, which showed through the slit of her skirt.

She looked like a walking Ferrari prize, ready to be picked up by the winner.

Playing with me was the worst thing you've ever done, Pierre. You'll see, she thought, leaving the house.

I don't dress for women

I don't dress for men

Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge

It all started on an innocent, warm summer day when Y/N and a group of friends decided to take a boat on the gorgeous, fascinating Lake Como for some fun, swimming and sunbathing, while they were in the beautiful country of Italy.

Unknown to Y/N, in the same waters, another boat passed by hers, immediately catching the interest of all her friends. The young woman was completely distracted, tanning her back, when she began to hear flirty whispers and giggles coming from her group, swooning over some random guys.

Curious, the girl turned around until her eyes landed on the figures of two athletic, handsome men. God, it was unfair, couldn't she have both? A girl can dream.

She had always been a confident woman, but old-fashioned in a sense: she wasn't going to approach them. If they wanted to know her and her friends, they could address them. If not, their loss.

However... Life has a funny way of turning against you and when the group of friends was getting ready to leave the lake, their boat couldn't start. They tried and tried, but clearly none of them had the capacity to handle the situation. So they only had one option left: ask for help from the friendly, helpful guys on the next boat.

"Hey!" Y/N called out, in an attempt to get them to look. "Can you help us?"

"Hi! Is something wrong with your boat?" One of them, in blue shorts, questioned, curious.

"We can't start the engine. Can you help us?" She asked.

The two boys jumped out and swam to the girls' boat without hesitation. When they walked up the stairs, Y/N could almost hear her friends' jaws hitting the floor at the sight of their wet, muscled abs. But Y/N maintained his carefree demeanour, which only fascinated the two young men more.

The unreachable. The unknown. The treasure to be discovered. They lived for the adrenaline, for the adventure, for the challenge.

And she was a walking challenge.

"Thanks for your help. I'm Y/N." She introduced herself, extending her hand to greet them.

"Pierre." The boy in the orange shorts replied, half-closed eyes filled with interest.

"I'm Charles." The other replied, with a seductive smile plastered on his face.

How the girl would come to regret it when she thought back on that day. From that moment came the invitation for the young women to join the two drivers in their next GP in Emilia-Romagna, which they happily accepted.

And from there came more races, group dinners, parties, and much more. Everything got more complicated when what started as a group friendship ended up leading to a silent battle between the two friends for the confident girl's attention.

One of them, unfortunately, had to lose, and in this case, contrary to their races, Pierre came out victorious, much to Charles's unawareness. Although the Monegasque was an absolute Greek God on the outside and a sweetheart on the inside, Y/N couldn't help but initially let her tendency for complicated, toxic men lead her right to Pierre.

She fell for his charm right away. She didn't even have a chance to run. As soon as he made his first move on her when he pulled her into an empty room after a night of partying, he dominated the girl, body and soul, like he was poison burning right through the inside of her veins.

But like all poison, it's only a matter of time before you die without the antidote.

Secret nights, hidden moments, empty promises. He continued to feed off of what he wanted from her, while she sustained herself with the little crumbs left from the illusions she created in her own head.

He wasn't going to change, and she knew it. But it wasn't until she heard the words come out of his mouth that she realized really how she had been used all those months.

"I never wanted a serious relationship, mon ange," Pierre confessed, unconcerned with her feelings. "You knew from the start that this was just fun for the two of you."

"Fun for the two of you?" She echoed his words. "You've been saying for months that we're eventually going to be in a relationship. Don't lie now. Which one'll be your last lie?!"

She wasn't going to allow herself to cry in front of him. She kept her gaze directly on him, with a look that could kill.

"You know what? You're right." She replied, smiling at him through the pain she felt in her chest. The corners of her lips turned up, but her eyes didn't follow the gesture, leaving Pierre almost startled by the mixed signals. "Have a good life, Pierre. I'll see you around."

Oh, he was going to see her around...

If there was one thing Y/N liked better than a good boy toy, it was revenge. 

And she was thirsty for some vigilante action.

I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge

She wasn't going to let herself be affected by a guy who didn't treat her as she deserved. That wasn't something that lined up with her strong, confident, determined personality.

Cry for him? Be heartbroken because of the shitty way she was treated by him? Why be sad when you can get even? 

The perfect opportunity for payback just presented itself to her. Just like that: so tempting, so inviting, so alluring. In the form of a single text.

From: Charles Leclerc

hey! you're coming sunday night, right? need you at my victory party...

Y/N spent the whole time with her focus completely dedicated to Pierre when she had a caring, honest man in the palm of her hand... And she would be lying if she didn't say that the fact that he was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous didn't help captivate her now that her heart was free.

However, part of her mind told her that, although she was attracted to Charles, it would be unfair to basically use him to provoke a reaction out of Pierre. The Monegasque didn't even dream of the affair his two friends had going on in the recent past. It was just wrong. After all, how could she do to him what the Frenchman had done to her?

With this, an internal debate was created within the young woman. There were two options: she could be the superior person and move on with her life without thinking about the past, or she could let her anger take over and play with fire a little.

Unfortunately for Pierre, Y/N was never very good at keeping the burning fire of revenge inside her, and she was determined to have a little fun with it.

She needed cold, hard proof, so I gave her some

She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

That Sunday, Y/N walked into the club like she owned the place. The white lights reflected off her as if she were the mirror ball in the centre of the dance floor: all eyes were on her as she outshined the rest of the world.

Two pairs of eyes averted in unison as she approached the group of drivers, both believing she was there for them.

Pierre, closest to the stairs she was going up to the VIP area, was the first to approach the girl, with an inquisitive look.

"Mon ange, I didn't expect you to be here." He confessed, convinced that Y/N was there with the intent of getting him back.

What he didn't expect was that her siren eyes wouldn't even meet his. She was a woman on a mission, and her eyes were on only one person: his best friend.

Without saying a single word to him, Y/N made her way over to the handsome winner of the race, who had his mesmerizing blue eyes already fixed on his shiny red prize.

"Wow, bébé!" He whistled, giving her his hand and making her take a turn to show off her look. "I love the red, it suits you well. Was that all for me?" Charles, more confident than usual from a couple of drinks already consumed, flirted with the girl, his eyes admiring her from head to toe.

"How did you guess?" She replied, in the same tone. Y/N couldn't deny that Charles looked incredibly appetizing. His baby blue shirt was slightly open, exposing the man's defined chest, his hair was tousled and wild, and his eyes were brighter than ever.

"Just a lucky guess. The red Ferrari was a given, though." He chuckled as he pulled her closer to him. "You look so pretty tonight, Y/N. Not that you don't always look stunning, but tonight... Damn, you look fucking incredible, ma chérie."

Charles, focused only on the woman in front of him, didn't even notice how his best friend was glued to the shocking image of the Monegasque clinging to his ex-lover, but Y/N could feel Pierre's eyes burning into the back of her neck.

The young woman couldn't help but let out a satisfied grin. Pierre thought he could play with her without having to deal with the consequences, but he forgot that karma has a way of always biting someone back.

Y/N let her hand flow along the shirt of the driver in front of her until she reached his collar. She approached him seductively until her red inviting lips approached his ear.

Letting her mouth graze against Charles' warm neck, she began her plan. "Do you want to dance, champ?" She asked, with a suggestive tone to her voice.

"Lead the way. I'm all yours tonight." Charles responded and placed his hands on the girl's waist in response.

Enjoy the show, Pierre. It's just getting started.

And she looks so pretty

Drivin' in your Benz

Lately, she's been dressin' for revenge

As the pair moved towards the centre of the club, Y/N swaying his hips gently to the music and Charles with his hands all over the girl's body, Pierre's gaze moved with them.

The Frenchman's muscles tensed up, something that didn't go unnoticed by his teammate Yuki, who was standing right beside him.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Tsunoda asked, worried. "You look... I don't know, upset."

"Everything is fine," Gasly replied, though not at all convincingly. "Everything is perfectly fine." He continued, not understanding whether he was trying to convince the Japanese driver or himself.

He broke up with her, okay, he knew that. He would've understood if she showed up with some random guy trying to tease him. But his best friend, someone he's known for decades?

Y/N was taking things too far.

Pierre unfastened two buttons of his shirt, in an attempt to catch his breath, now dominated by rage. If your plan was to make me jealous to prove me wrong, you've done it, he thought to himself. Now that's enough.

Now for Y/N, revenge was just beginning.

"I think the winner deserves something special." The young woman put her arms around Charles' neck, letting her fingers flow through his brown hair and giving him a provocative smirk. "Don't you agree, Leclerc?"

"Well, he tried really hard to win the race." He joked back, speaking of himself in the third person. The driver's hands threatened to slide further and further down her back towards her bottom. "I think at the very least he deserves a dance with the prettiest girl in this club."

"Perhaps if the winner behaves well during the night, he can find out if his prize is red under the dress too." She teased him, licking her lips as she looked down at his flawless mouth. "Do you think he would like that?"

"Oh, for sure." He answered, getting his face closer to hers.

Y/N felt her heart beat faster and more euphorically, something that caught her off guard. This all started with intentions to punish Pierre for what he did to her, but without her relationship with the Frenchman clouding her mind, Y/N couldn't help but see Charles in a different light for the first time.

Of course, she always thought he was hot and she noticed his attempts to get close to her. But at that moment, the young woman was looking at him and her body seemed to react automatically to the Monegasque's presence, trying to reduce the physical distance between the two as much as possible.

She don't start shit, but she can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

She don't dress for friends

Lately, she's been dressing for revenge

She let herself be carried away by the impulsiveness of the moment and, leaving her thirst for vengeance forgotten in the back of her head, Y/N pulled Charles towards her and let her cherry-red lips kiss his.

Leclerc instantly returned the kiss, with the same passion, the same determination, and the same hunger for each other.

At that moment, it was just her and him. It didn't matter the circumstances that led them there, but that there was indeed chemistry and desire for each other. She simply had enough of Pierre and his lies.

On the other hand, Pierre couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing. The woman he used to call his between four walls. The man he called his brother. Kissing. Hands exploring their bodies. No shame, no concern for who saw them and the opinions of outsiders.

It was what Y/N wanted from me and I never gave it to her, he realised.

The couple broke the kiss and Charles ran his hand over the girl's forehead, pushing the loose hair behind her ear. Y/N giggled when she saw the image of the driver's lips now stained with her lipstick and tried to clean them by running her thumb lovingly over them.

Suddenly, she felt the side of her face burn and instantly she realized why: her ex's eyes were fixed on her. As soon as she turned her face towards him, their eyes met and she just imagined all the names he was calling her in his head. She gave him a smirk and turned back to Charles.

"I'm going to the bathroom and I'll be right back with you, okay?" She asked, knowing full well that Pierre was going to follow her.

"I'll meet Carlos and wait for you in the VIP area." He informed her, a hungry look on his face, giving her hand one last rub with his thumb. "But you better be back soon because I've been promised a prize that I can't wait to unravel."

Ladies always rise above

Ladies know what people want

Someone sweet and kind and fun

The lady simply had enough

Just as she predicted, Gasly followed as soon as he saw her heading towards the dark hallway to the bathrooms.

Along the way, and just when he thought his nightmare couldn't get any worse, the Frenchman bumped into Charles, who had a smile plastered to his face like a man who had just won the lottery. Pierre wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid smirk out of his face.

"Mate, I finally got the woman of my dreams." Leclerc innocently admitted, unaware that he was pulling his friend's strings.

Pierre simply walked away, bumping into Charles's shoulder, who was left behind confused by what had just happened.

As soon as he reached the hallway, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. He assumed she was in the ladies' room, so he leaned against the wall beside the door as he waited for her to exit.

A few minutes (which seemed like hours to the impatient man) passed before she got out. As soon as Pierre saw her figure, he grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her against the wall in an act of rage.

"Can you explain to me what the fuck is going on?" Gasly spat out the words, hot-headed, leaning his body completely over the young woman's. "Are you fucking kidding me? Charles? Of all people."

"I'm sorry, but since when do I owe you an explanation? If I remember correctly, you and I are nothing." She spoke, mirroring the same angry tone.

"Shut the fuck up." Pierre gripped her wrist tighter, letting her know that her plan was working exactly as planned. "You crossed the line."

"I just thought the winner of the race deserved a worthy prize." She smirked until the driver placed his hand on her throat and squeezed lightly, making the smile soon disappear from her face.

While he was doin' lines and crossin' all of mine

Someone told his white-collar crimes to the FBI

And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shit again

"You already got what you wanted. You had your fun, you got me fucked up." He confessed. "But that's enough. You're going to get out of here and go home immediately because I'm not about to take this shit."

Y/N laughed in his face. This man's audacity to try to boss her around after using her as his personal toy in his spare time.

The young woman was far from done with her plan. So, she gave him those puppy dog eyes he couldn't resist and he released her throat, his eyes softening at the image of her.

Y/N brought her face closer to his, half closing her eyes as their lips prepared to meet. Or so Pierre thought, who was caught off guard when the girl ducked her way towards his ear and whispered her last words.

"This is only the start. Enjoy my revenge like I'm going to enjoy my night."

I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

With that, the young woman left the dark hall without looking back and walked confidently towards the gorgeous man who was waiting for her.

Charles smiled behind the glass he was drinking from as soon as he laid eyes on the girl in red, getting a pat on the back from his friend Carlos.

"Ay, ay, ay, my friend. You are completely head over heels for her." Sainz teased and walked away from them, leaving the couple alone.

Leclerc grabbed the girl by the hip and pulled her towards him, placing a soft kiss on her red lips.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Y/N asked, winking at the boy.

"Hmm, tempting..." For the first time that night, Charles made the risky move of placing his free hand over the girl's ass. "What did you have in mind, bébé?"

Y/N started her night dressed for revenge not knowing that she would end up with her body burning for the Monegasque, but maybe Charles Leclerc was just the antidote she needed in her life as she tried to get back to her past self.

"What about some undressing?"

Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge

taglist: @dan3avacado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12 @amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[roodles03]

Huntlow Grom Redraws (Video)

Huntlow Grom Masterpost:

Did I really spend 4 hours working on this after school while having to learn how to use Premiere Pro on the fancy ass computers with hardly any previous knowledge of the program or editing experience? Yes... yes I did. This is called insanity, fellas.

Unfortunately not every part I drew had officially released music. The most noticeable slience is the Mud scene. Nothing much I really could've done about that sadly. Thankfully, most of the scenes I redrew did had officially released music.

Please enjoy this serveal month long project that I sunk my blood, sweat, and tears into, fully realized with the music from the episode.

Music Composed by TJ Hill

(Disclaimer Note)

The following video is a compilation of every Grom scene I've redrawn with Huntlow over the past year or so. All original posts were on my tumblr and instagram (username) if I can, I will allign the drawings with the background music from the actual episode. However, not all the scenes I redrew have their official soundtracks released. So if its slient, that's why. This is NOT an AU. Meaning Lumity Grom is still cannon. This is a future Grom. I just redrew Willow and Hunter in Amity and Luz's spots because it's cool to see what they'd look like in these scenes. ALL ART WAS DRAWN BY ME AND ONLY ME. THIS VIDEO WAS ENTIRELY EDITED BY ME. DO NOT REPOST ANY OF THESE DRAWINGS OR THIS VIDEO. Anyway, I appreciate if you took the time to read this and I hope you enjoy!

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

VIII ║ Concentric

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

 { << Part 7: Contrary | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: You and Dieter come full circle.

Warnings: Shenanigans, fighting, drinking, swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, safe unprotected sex (be smart kids!), multiple orgasms (f and m), cumshot, cum play, size kink, light spanks, yearning, mentions of food, fluff, feelings, no use of Y/N

Word count: 11.5k (it's only fitting that we break the word count record on the last chapter!)

Note: October 2013. That was the last time I finished a WIP, and that one took me 6.5 years. Years, I kid you not. So please forgive me for being extremely melodramatic and emotional about finishing Consent in just over 5 months.

I thought I was done with fanfiction and writing, and I've never been happier to be proven wrong. I wouldn't have believed it if you told me the next series I'd complete would be about a man called Dieter Bravo. You've all been the most incredibly supportive readers, and I'm so lucky to count many of you as friends. I don't know what I've done to deserve you. Thank you, thank you, thank you - this is for all of my fellow Dieter Bravo hoes (affectionate) ❤️ 

I had a lot of help for this chapter. To avoid any spoilers, I will be thanking everyone at the end of this chapter.

There’s always a jarring sense of disconnect when you land in a country you’ve never been to before. Even more so after a red-eye, a connecting flight you almost missed and a long drive from the airport to the little seaside town you’ve seen so much of in Ana’s stories.

It doesn’t help that you’ve been wide-eyed the entire journey, your head too loud to switch off.

The sleep deprivation makes it doubly surreal to see the mountains, the Tyrrhenian Sea and picture-perfect towns zoom past the car window. To feel the sunshine on your face as your taxi eases around hairpin turns on the coastal roads, then down narrow streets - barely squeezing past the summer crowds - as your destination draws close.

The car purrs to a halt in front of a charming pink-orange house that looks like something straight out of Under The Tuscan Sun, where Ana is waiting impatiently. She nearly rips off the door handle and throws her arms around you as soon as you clamber out of the car.

‘I missed you!’ you mumble into her hair.

‘You too, bitch!’ she squeals, dragging your suitcase off the sidewalk. ‘Let’s get you unpacked and showered. We’re going on a cast and crew sunset cruise in a couple of hours, so you can finally meet Richard Linklater. I hope you brought something pretty to wear!’

You didn’t pack much summer attire with you to Calgary, but you did bring your trusty yellow dress from that night, which feels like a lifetime ago - if not from another one entirely. The shower perks you up somewhat - at least you don’t smell like an economy plane cabin anymore. You’re putting on your makeup in a futile attempt to cover up the dark circles under your eyes when Ana comes back to the apartment.

She hands you an espresso and a cannoli, which you take gratefully. ‘Thank you so much. My biological clock is so confused, I don’t know when I last ate.’

‘Don’t worry, hon, there will be plenty of food and drink on the boat,’ says Ana. Eyeing you over critically, she runs a makeup brush or two over your cheekbones, and dabs some colour onto your lips. ‘You look great. Shall we?’

The town is absolutely darling, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not actually dreaming this. The weathered cobblestones are slippery beneath your leather sandals as you trail behind Ana. Your tummy rumbles at the smell of sweet tomatoes and baking bread, and you can’t help but run a hand over beautiful summer fruits as you walk by stalls on street corners, brimming with produce. Exuberant Italian conversation surrounds you, and you lose yourself in words that you don’t understand.

Your breath catches when you round a corner and the blue sea comes into view, the fresh scent of salt and summer in the air. With her arm hooked through yours, Ana leads you across the water front, pointing out her favourite restaurants and watering holes, clearly having settled well into her workplace these past months. You’re distracted when you spot a familiar low wall, recognising it as where Dieter and Constance posed for one of their many Instagram stories.

Distracted, you nearly walk into Ana when she stops abruptly in front of an extravagant-looking yacht, spread over two levels, her arms outstretched in a flourish. ‘Ta-da! The perks of the movie being financed by a rich local guy - free boat trip every weekend!’

‘Fancy,’ you remark, suddenly nervous that you’re underdressed for the occasion.

‘He’s newly divorced too,’ she adds with a wink. ‘And stop fussing, you look fantastic. Come on, I see Richard - I’ll introduce you!’

The boat is fairly full, people bustling about with drinks and canapes in hand. Despite being jetlagged and incredibly starstruck, you manage to somewhat hold it together when Ana introduces you to your favourite director. She offers to get you a cold drink and leaves you to chatter with him. You talk about your favourite movies of his, his career, and a bit of yours, before someone shows up at his elbow to whisk him away. You shake his hand and thank him for his time, and he gives you his business card before he takes his leave.

The boat pulled away from the port while you weren’t looking, sailing smoothly towards the calm, open sea. You glance about, trying to look nonchalant and to keep your breathing under control. Now that you’ve met your hero, you have to contend with the fact that you came to Italy for something else.

Someone else.

A voice catches your ear. Familiar and gruff, drawling in a bored monotone.

There’s no dramatic swell of music in your ears, or the fading of the world until it’s just the two of you and no one else. It’s almost anti-climatic, really. 

You tilt your face towards the upper deck - and there he is.

One of his signature earth-tone t-shirts (you know he has more than one) hangs comfortably off his broad shoulders, sunglasses hooked at the neck, dragging the ragged neckline low. The sea breeze ruffles his curls, longer than they were on Resurgence, the sun bringing out undertones of gold. He’s chatting to a man - or rather, being chatted at - leaning his weight on his elbows on the bannister, scratching at his beard, wearing his usual air of indifference. 

One look and the clocks turn. It takes you right back. You remember exactly what it’s like to be that close to him, to be wrapped up in the broadness of him - the feeling of his body warmth, how soft his t-shirt is when you rest your cheek on his chest.

You haven’t moved a muscle, but somehow, his head turns just a fraction, and he finds you.

If not for the physical distance between you, you’d be convinced that he’s reached inside you and squeezed your heart with the whole of his hand until it stopped pumping, blood roaring inside your ears with nowhere to go. His stare - bewilderment and awe and hunger - pins you to the spot.

And you know. You just do.

They are the same eyes you woke up to so many mornings. First thing when consciousness seeps in and you blink away the last remnants of the night before, his arms around you or yours around him. Through thick lashes and peeking from under heavy eyelids, syrupy-slow with sleep as they sweep over the contours of your profile, lips curling into a warm smile.

Yours.

He’s long stopped listening to the man, and even from where you are, you see him grip the wooden railing tight, disturbing his rings, the same ones he always wears.

Then she appears.

An Aperol Spritz in each hand and a small plate of canapes balanced awkwardly on the sides of her wrists, she nudges his side hurriedly with her elbow, her platonic tone carrying despite the rush of the sea. ‘Oi! Grab your drink, dude. Come on - it’s slipping!’

The naked panic on his face only reaffirms what your intuition tells you.

Ana finally returns to you with chilled champagne, grumbling about the crowds at the bar. Taking a glass, you turn to her and nod towards the upper deck. ‘So - Dieter and Constance.’

‘What about them?’ she asks innocently, taking a big gulp of bubbly.

You watch as Dieter furiously whispers into Constance’s ear. Her eyes widen in obvious excitement, darting everywhere until they settle on you for the briefest second before she schools in her features. You hear Dieter hiss, ‘Don’t be so freaking obvious, Jesus Christ.’

You fight the urge to giggle - and you never giggle. An Oscar winner and an Olivier nominee walk into a china shop and they’re about as subtle as two bulls after a red flag.

You turn to Ana and ask conversationally, ‘They’re not really together, are they?’

She shrugs, poker face firmly on. ‘Don’t know what you mean, hon.’

‘Ana,’ you put on a serious tone.

Never one to stand her ground under pressure, she surrenders far too easily. ‘Fine, they’re not! Before you yell at me, it was all Dieter’s idea. And I’m sorry it upset you, but I’m not sorry that it worked! I’m not going to apologise for helping him get you back.’

The words tumble out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘He wants me back?’

It’s beyond strange to acknowledge aloud what’s between you and him for the first time. You’ve never even articulated it to yourself.

Ana beams, bumping shoulders with you. ‘You better believe it, hon.’

Your head feels like it’s filling up with helium and any second, you’ll be lifted off the wooden deck. You’re so fucking confused - should you be angry that he basically tricked you into coming here? Should you be elated that he went to such lengths to get you here?

There are no answers, but there’s booze. Lots of it. 

So you bring the glass of champagne to your lips and tip your head back, draining the flute until there’s nothing left.

‘Whoa! What are you doing?’ squeaks Ana as you plant the empty glass on a cocktail table nailed to the deck.

Crossing your arms, you say, ‘You’re right, his little ploy worked. But if he thinks he can mess with me without paying for it, he’s got another thing coming.’

‘For fuck’s sake, can’t you two just talk to each other like normal people for once?’

‘Ana, I was miserable! For weeks!’

‘Girl, I’m gonna give it to you straight. Even if he didn’t pull this Constance bullshit, you would’ve been miserable anyway because you broke up with him!’ She clasps her palms together in a desperate prayer. ‘I’m begging you, can you two please just make up!’

You hold out stubbornly. ‘Not until I’ve messed with his head at least a little bit.’

‘This is not what I signed up for,’ Ana grumbles.

You laugh and drape an arm over her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. ‘It’ll be fun. I promise. I flew all the way here, I deserve a little restitution.’

She whines. ‘Hon, come on, what am I going to tell Dieter?’

You hold up a stern finger. ‘Nothing. You can’t tell him that I know, you owe me as much. I also need you to distract him while I talk to Constance.’

She frowns. ‘Constance? What are you planning?’

You wink and turn to leave without giving her an answer.

Ana watches you go with a long-suffering sigh. She’s taking a deep glug of champagne when Dieter ambushes her, startling her into a coughing fit.

His usual air of chaos has intensified exponentially, she can almost feel it physically vibrate off of him. He spills Aperol everywhere when he asks with his hands. ‘What the fuck, Ana?’

‘What?’ she shoots back defensively.

‘Why didn’t you tell me she was coming? Are you double crossing me?’

‘Double cross - what does that even mean in this context?’

Dieter’s not interested in her answer though. His eyes are darting about, looking for you. ‘What’s she doing here? Did our plan work or did you tell her?’

Technically, you found out on your own, so Ana is comfortable lying through her teeth. ‘I didn’t! She said she came to see me and to meet Richard, that’s it.’

He’s talking to himself now more than anything. ‘She must suspect something, but I don’t think she knows about the whole set-up.’ Pausing, he pokes her in the side in a warning. ‘You can’t tell her that you know I think she knows.’

Ana’s eyes nearly roll behind her skull in exasperation. ‘Couldn’t if I wanted to. Here’s a bright idea - why don’t you go talk to her?’

Dieter’s frown deepens as his determination hardens. ‘No, fuck that. She broke up with me. I’m not going to be the one giving in.’

Ana waves in a frenzy to get someone’s attention to refill her empty glass, letting out a cry of relief when a server starts making their way over. ‘What do you mean by not giving in?’

Dieter swigs his glass clean and sticks it out to the server to fill it up. ‘Keep doing what Constance and I were doing. Until she cracks.’

‘Just so we’re on the same page, this entire weekend, you’re going to keep pretending to date Constance and throw it in her face, instead of just making up? What could possibly go wrong?’

‘Way to be supportive, Ana.’

She gives him dead eyes in response. If only Pete was here to back her up. Speaking of whom - he’s really missing out big time. She’ll have to call him to fill him in tonight.

Dieter half-turns to leave, but something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. He does a double take, craning his whole body forward and squinting dramatically to take a better look. 

‘Ana, why the fuck is my girlfriend talking to my fake girlfriend?’

Constance is not hard to find, with her willowy figure and luscious curls billowing in the wind. She seems to have recovered her composure from when she first spotted you, and when your gazes meet on your approach, they give nothing away. 

‘Hi Constance,’ you say casually in greeting.

She plays it cool with a polite smile. ‘Hi there. Have we met?’

‘I know you know who I am, Constance.’

She blinks her doe eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, I really don’t think I do.’

You shuffle in closer and say under your breath, just in case someone overhears. ‘I know you were in it with Dieter - his little plan to get me jealous. Ana told me.’

The mask melts so quickly that you can’t help but find it endearing. Dragging you by the elbow into the privacy of the cabin, a sincere crease in her brow, she confesses, ‘About that, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t want to do it at first, I swear. But he’s so smitten with you and he was just about ready to try anything to get you back -’

You shush her and grab her free hand. Both of you have just enough alcohol in your systems to feel the pull of the universal, sisterly bond between drunk women, despite having only met thirty seconds ago. You reassure her, ‘No, please don’t apologise. I’m not angry - well, a tiny bit mad at him for messing with me, but not at you.’

‘But I feel so bad,’ insists Constance. ‘You must have felt strongly enough to have flown all this way. Please, if there’s anything I can do.’

‘Listen, if you want to make it up to me - you could do me a favour.’

Constance nods solemnly. ‘Anything.’

You grin mischievously. ‘Will you help me get back at Dieter?’

Dieter mopes in his corner on the upper deck, growling and hissing at anyone who dares approach, drowning himself in Aperol Spritz. He doesn’t particularly like that stuff, but when in Rome and all that shit.

From his perch, he can see and hear you laughing loudly at something Constance says to you, champagne in hand, having a whale of a time.

There’s no two ways around it. His plan failed. Ana’s right. You came to see your friend, not him. If you did and knowing you, you’d be doing something to get his attention. You’d be trying to make him jealous. You’d be mad, spitting flame and venom.

You’re giving him nothing. You haven’t even deigned to glance his way after you locked eyes for that brief moment.

But… you’re wearing that dress. Surely you haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you showed up in his trailer wearing that -

Another peal of laughter pulls him from his thoughts. He slurps on the straw until it gurgles at the empty bottom of his glass.

You didn’t expect to like Constance. It turns out she grew up in the same county as you, just a few towns over, you even share a few distant mutual acquaintances. You chit-chat about everything - your schools, the local beaches, working with Dieter. 

The boat has anchored in the middle of the sea for the sunset, and you’re sitting on the deck at the back with your feet dangling in the cool water, sandals by your side. You marvel at the view - the beauty of this place is unreal. Village houses hug the rugged shoreline, stacked one on top of the other in gravity-defying fashion up the steep cliffside, dramatic mountains rising above behind the town. The setting sun throws a rose gold tint over the valley, the sky burning orange.

Even if you don’t go away with what you came for, this could be enough.

Constance giggles drunkenly, looking over your shoulder. ‘He’s watching you again. You’ve really riled him up.’

You resist the very great temptation to take a peek. But you know Dieter - the longer you hold out, the better the payoff later.

There’s a scrape of footsteps and Ana appears with her phone out. ‘Selfie time, bitches!’

‘How’s Dieter?’ asks Constance, shuffling over to make space for Ana.

She sighs. ‘So confused. When will you put him out of his misery, hon?’

You shrug. ‘He can hold out a little longer. Constance, remember, you have to keep up the whole charade for maximum effect, ok?’

She wrinkles her nose. ‘It would be weird doing it in front of you though.’

‘Are you a working actress or not?’ you tease.

Ana chortles, and Constance raises her glass. ‘Alright, alright, I’ll do it - for you. To new friends.’

The three of you clink glasses clumsily, bumping shoulders and cackling at everything and nothing at all. 

You’ll drink to that.

When the yacht docks, spontaneous dinner plans are made, with those wanting to prolong the evening revelry wandering down the cobblestone streets to a trattoria frequented by the cast and crew.

The dozen or so of you sit at a long, rickety table under fairy lights, the plentiful food and drink illuminated by candles dripping wax as they burn low. Easy conversation, a mix of English and Italian, ebb and flow over the course of the slow dinner.

You’re sitting in the middle of the table, flanked by Ana and directly opposite Dieter, with Constance to his immediate left.

The actress keeps her promise to you, practically dousing Dieter in PDA. She’s feeding him pasta, handing you her phone to take photos of them kissing and practically sitting in his lap. He’s unresponsive, staring at you openly throughout dinner.

It takes all of your resolve to not give in to meet his eyes.

The street gets rowdier by the hour, and the group thins after dessert and limoncello is served. When an impromptu band shows up and starts playing music right next to your table, Constance tries to pull Dieter to his feet for a dance, but he’s like dead weight, pouting and somehow burrows himself deeper into his wooden chair. Unperturbed, Constance grabs Ana instead, joining the raucous crowd gathering on the sidewalk.

It’s just the two of you left at the table.

You finally let yourself look at him, finding his gaze already trained on you. You took it easy on the wine over dinner, allowing the rich food to soak up all the alcohol you had on the boat. But you still feel buzzed enough to do something bold.

Scooping a generous helping of tiramisu and bringing it to your lips, you lick the underside of the spoon, collecting the cream on your tongue, before pushing it into your mouth. Your eyes flutter close as you moan around the spoonful of smooth mascarpone and coffee-soaked biscuit.

Dieter’s jaw goes slack, and you spot the pink tip of his tongue between his parted lips, his chest rising and falling quickly. Leaning forward, you reach out and trace your index finger up the back of his hand until you reach his ring with the black gemstone. He doesn’t try to hide the shudder that runs like a current through his body.

The power you so easily wield over him is both sweet and heady. You decide to push him further, leaning your elbows on the table and drawing your shoulders together, making the neckline of your dress gape and your cleavage pop.

The way he stares is gasoline to the fire under your skin.

When you speak, he demonstrates that he still remains somewhat in possession over his faculties as he drags his gaze up, with considerable difficulty, to your face.

You wear a bright smile, and your tone is syrupy sweet. ‘You’re one lucky guy - Constance is amazing. Honestly, I think you’re perfect for each other. I’m so happy for you, Dieter.’

He echoes your words, slowly. ‘You’re… you’re happy for me?’

You blink, butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth as you answer, ‘Yes, I am. So happy for you.’

He stutters, before his words peter out. ‘But - but you were meant to be -’

‘Meant to be what?’ you prompt.

When he doesn’t reply, you give him a pat on his hand. ‘Take care of yourself, Dieter.’

He’s so stunned that he doesn’t react as he watches you go. 

Dieter thinks for a second, the pasta and pizza and bread having absorbed enough alcohol from his bloodstream for him to dig deep for some clarity within himself. He re-runs your words in his head, a deep frown on his brow.

Hold the fucking phone.

He scrambles onto his feet so hard that his chair hits the pavement, and he runs after you.

He crashes through the crowds half-blind, angry Italian cursing thrown his way, until he leaves the ruckus behind. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, but by some miracle he spots yellow, and with one last push, he throws himself in front of you, wheezing and leaning heavily on one hand against the wall to block your path. 

You’re staring at him in genuine concern. ‘What are you doing? Are you ok?’

Finding his voice, he opens with an apparent non-sequitur. ‘You do impulsive things when you’re mad. You know that, sweetheart?’

You brows knit in confusion. ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

You humour him, arms crossed. He knows that you probably think he’s just drunk. ‘Ok. Like what?’

‘Like flying 6,000 miles to see me.’

‘I’m here to see Ana.’

Dieter shakes his head slowly, a smile unfolding as he begins to find his footing for the first time since you appeared out of thin air and turned his day upside down. ‘She sold me out, didn’t she? Constance too. I should’ve known they’d be on your side.’

You snort. ‘You’re talking crazy, Bravo.’

He crowds you against the wall, meeting no resistance as your back hits the stone, and he coaxes. ‘Admit it, sweetheart, and I’ll give you everything you came for. I just need to hear it from your pretty little mouth.’

You hold your tongue stubbornly, but he sees your pupils dilate and senses a shift in the crisp evening air.

He grins, finally establishing control over the situation, which sobers him up like nothing else. You’ve tortured him all day - it’s time he has some fun. 

Leaning down to your ear, he growls in a register that he knows will get you wet for him. ‘Tell me you came for me, sweetheart. And then maybe - I’ll make you cum for me.’

You just about lunge at him, but he holds you in place with hands around your upper arms, crowding you, drunk on the power now that the tables have turned. He wags a condescending finger at you, tapping the tip of your nose. ‘Uh-uh-uh. You heard me, sweetheart. C’mon, four little words. You can do it.’

That does it. You bare your teeth at him, panting as you struggle in his grasp. ‘You’re such an asshole.’

Dieter makes a buzzer noise. ‘That’s four words, but not the right ones.’

‘Over my dead body,’ you spit at him.

He tuts. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, no deal. Well, I guess I better go -’

He lets go of you and spins on his heels, but he doesn’t even get to take two steps when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist and haul him around with surprising force. 

He deliberately knocks into your body, hands landing on your waist and his weight holding you in place. You all but snarl at him, ‘Don’t you fucking dare walk out on me again.’

There she is, he thinks to himself, chest swelling with pride at the fire in your eyes.

He runs a finger down the side of your cheek, the gentle touch in direct conflict with the words that come out more affectionately than he intends. ‘You never make things easy, do you? You get off on making my life hell, hmm?’

Your eyes soften, but you still run your mouth brash. ‘You don’t like it easy, Bravo. You’d get bored.’

He chuckles, and leaning in to brush the tip of his nose along yours, he tries again. ‘Did you come all this way to see me, sweetheart?’

He isn’t gloating, or trying to trip you up.

You cup the side of his stubbled cheek, and you decide to let him in. ‘Of course I did, you fucking idiot -’

And then he’s kissing you.

Your hand is tightly wrapped in his as he leads you through a maze of alleyways, as if he’s worried that you would bolt. You won’t though - you’re done running. 

The strain in your calves begins to make its presence felt after several flights of stone steps, the long journey earlier today kicking in as the adrenaline fades. You yawn and Dieter notices, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

‘Almost there, sweetheart,’ he promises you, dragging you against his side with a hand on your hip, taking some of your weight. 

You watch from under drooping eyelids as he turns the key and opens the door to a two-storey house. A lone lamp glows in the corner of what appears like a comfortable sitting room, but you’re too tired to be curious to look around. 

Dieter steers you up cool tiled steps, having helped you out of your sandals. He all but pushes you up to the bedroom, hands firm on your waist so you can focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. 

The mattress is soft and welcoming as you flop down nose first, muffling your groan as you give in to the exhaustion that you’ve been putting off all day. He chuckles, rolling you onto one side of the bed. 

‘Let’s get this dress off, shall we, sweetheart?’

Even in your prone state, you attempt to put on a coy smile, pushing the straps off your shoulders. ‘You know you want to.’

He chuckles, turning you over to find the zip and pulling it down. He mock admonishes you, ‘Keep it in your pants, woman.’

Dieter feels almost bashful peeling your dress off, baring skin that he hasn’t touched for too long - he has to wait a little longer for that. You never sleep in your bra, so he unhooks that too, averting his gaze, and grabs a comfortable t-shirt from the dresser.

‘Arms up, sweetheart,’ he cajoles, and you comply despite grumbling sleepily. The t-shirt slips easily over your head. 

It’s a warm night, so he lets you stretch out above the duvet as he strips down to his boxers. He opens the window to let in a cool breeze to bring down the temperature in the room. It’s been baking in the sun all day. 

Dieter shuffles onto the mattress behind you, no hesitation when he tucks your body under the crook of his arm. He breathes you in, nose in your hair, a deep calm settling into his bones as he feels your steady breathing. He tightens his grip on you and lets sleep claim him. 

You’re not sure if it’s the church bells or the light streaming through the patio doors, but it’s a clean awakening, your eyes snapping wide open as you take in the bedroom you barely saw last night before passing out.

It’s strangely comforting to see he’s brought with him across the Atlantic the same mess that you became so used to. Inside-out t-shirts and shorts draped on chairs and flung carelessly onto random spots on the floor, where they’ve stayed. A glass of water half empty on his bedside table, his reading glasses and a couple of rings next to it. One slipper at the foot of the bed, the other nowhere to be seen.

You look down at the t-shirt you’re wearing. It’s one that you often borrowed from him for bed, and it makes you smile.

Following the smell of fresh coffee and bread, you pad quietly downstairs, admiring the rustic living space flooded in morning light, the open patio doors leading to a lush garden, letting in a soothing draft.

Dieter is perched on a bar stool at the counter in the open kitchen, already dressed for the day. He looks up from his phone when you approach, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he beams at you, and he breathes out something like relief when you slot into the V of his thighs without any trepidation.

‘What’s this? Dieter Bravo out of bed and dressed before,’ you pause and squint at the clock. ‘Ten in the morning?’

‘Not just that,’ he gestures at the breakfast spread on the table with a proud puff of his chest. ‘I provided.’

You smirk and rest your palms on the top of his thighs. ‘No Deliveroo around here, huh?’

‘It’s sink or swim, baby. Got pretty hairy for a while.’ He grabs a paper cup and pushes it into your hand. ‘Got you a cappuccino from my favourite barista. Try it.’

‘You have a favourite barista? Not just a favourite cafe?’

‘Of course. I have a favourite barista for cappuccino and another one for espresso.’

‘That might be the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever heard.’

He gives you a wink. ‘I’ve put down roots here, baby.’

‘Dieter Bravo has roots?’ you quip. ‘Do you even speak the language yet?’

He replies in an exaggerated Italian accent, complete with hand gestures. ‘A leetle beet, bella signorita.’

You laugh and take a sip of the cappuccino, sighing deeply at the rich, roasted flavour. ‘Thank you, this is delicious.’

Rough palms rest on the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. His eyes are warm and open as he confides in you, ‘This job’s been really good for me.’

You run your fingers through his curls. ‘I know. I can tell.’

‘And Calgary’s been good for you too?’

You nod, and you hesitate for just a moment before you answer, ‘They’re going to offer me a contract for the second season.’

It’s not that you’re trying to catch him out, but you watch his reaction closely. You see nothing other than excitement before he presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. ‘That’s my girl.’

Suddenly quiet, you go still, and your change in demeanour doesn’t escape him. He pats you playfully on the bottom to get your attention. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’

It’s hard to meet his stare when you’re trying to find it within yourself to get the words out. You fixate on a small stain on his shirt instead, rubbing your finger over it.

He waits patiently, and to give you an out, replies lightly, ‘Couldn’t get the stain out. It’s ragu from my favourite place in town - I can take you there if you want.’

‘I’d like that,’ you smile gratefully.

But the thing is - you don’t want out. You want in. 

You take a deep breath and take the plunge. ‘Dieter - should I sign that contract?’

It’s the longest five seconds of silence, and it takes all of your self-control to not twist around in his grasp and run up the stairs. Finally, he leans in to kiss you deeply, and you’re glad he’s holding you up when your knees give.

He pulls back and runs his thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Can you hold out for another two weeks?’

You wish you didn’t answer so quickly, but you can’t help the breathless yes that slips out. Of course you fucking would.

Dieter holds your gaze. ‘Just so we’re clear - I want to be in the same place as you, sweetheart. Or at least close enough to commute to you. Is that ok?’

You nod, a stupid grin breaking across your features. ‘Yeah, that’s ok.’

‘Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,’ Dieter winks at you and grabs a paper bag from the kitchen counter. ‘You’ve got to try this.’

You peek inside and ask skeptically, ‘Is that… a doughnut?’

‘No, it’s a bombolone.’

‘Out of all the Italian things I haven’t tried, you picked the most American -’

He shoves the sugar-covered pastry into your mouth to shut you up, laughing as an indignant squeal catches in your throat. You bite into the pillowy doughnut, a thick smear of the chocolate filling spilling out and painting your lips, sugar crystals sticking to the mess.

Dieter wrinkles his nose jokingly. ‘You look so hot like this, sweetheart.’

Swiping at the chocolate from the corner of your mouth with your index finger, you push it between his lips. His eyes darken immediately as he sucks on it, the mood in the room swinging instantly into familiar territory.

Running your tongue across your lips, you put the rest of the doughnut in its bag and lick the sugar from your fingers. ‘I hope you haven’t had breakfast yet.’

His big hands dip underneath your shirt again to cup your bottom. He raises an eyebrow at you inquiringly. ‘Oh? Why not?’

Your back arcs and you rub your ass into his touch. ‘Because this pussy hasn’t been eaten in a very long time.’

His eyes snap shut at your words as if they physically pain him, impatient hands now sliding up your front to cup your bare breasts. ‘Fuck, baby. Is this the first thing you think about in the morning, you filthy girl?’

You kiss him sloppily, more tongue and teeth than anything, and Dieter pushes you away to hop off the stool, pulling off your shirt in the one smooth motion. He runs two fingers along the seam of your panties, smirking at the wet spot he finds. ‘Did no one else take care of this pussy while I was away?’

‘You know there’s no one else,’ you whine, letting him walk you into the living room, until the back of your knees hit the sofa.

‘Good,’ he growls into your ear, spinning you around and pushing you onto your knees into the cushions, hands on the spine of the sofa. Possessiveness clouds his mind as he runs his gaze over you every inch of you. ‘All mine.’

Slowly, he drags your panties down your legs, kissing the back of your thighs. You writhe under his touch, the scrape of his beard on your sensitive skin making you shudder. You moan, ‘Dieter. Please.’

Spreading you open, he tells you through clenched teeth, ‘I can see how wet you are, sweetheart. So pretty.’

‘Don’t tease,’ you beg, feeling your pussy flutter around nothing, your ass in the air as you grip the sofa tightly. ‘I need -’

You break off in a moan when Dieter closes his lips around your clit in a wet suckle, dragging the broad of his tongue through your core messily. His nails dig into the swell of your hips to hold you in place as you writhe, dipping into your pussy to taste you. Too long. It’s been too fucking long since he’s had you.

He traces his tongue along your contours patiently. He’s waited so many months, he can hold off the want to fucking devour you just a little bit longer. The tip of his tongue draws insistent circles on your clit, your hips undulating while you chase your pleasure. He feels a tremour run through your body before you bury your head into the sofa, muffling your cries. 

Oh no, that won’t do.

He brings his palm down in sharp clap on your pillowy cheek, making it jiggle. You gasp, head snapping up and around to glare at him. ‘What was that for?’

He shoots you a dirty grin, chin already shiny with you. ‘Wanna hear you scream, baby.’

You pin him with an audacious stare. ‘Make me, then, Bravo.’

As if he isn’t already rock hard, he has to bite down on his bottom lip to wrangle himself under control. He groans, ‘Can’t just go around saying shit like that, baby.’

You smirk, knowing exactly what it does to him, enjoying his desperate little whimper. You shift to widen your stance, knees sinking deeper into the sofa, teasing him, ‘What was that about the screaming again?’

For one second, you think you’ve pushed too far when Dieter draws clear from you completely. Before you can protest, there’s a scrape of wood on stone as he pushes away the coffee table clumsily. Leaning on the sofa, his long legs splayed in front of him, you can see the clear outline of his erection through his shorts. He lays the back of his head on the edge of the seat, meeting your panicked eyes when you look down at him between your legs.

You squeak. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He grins, reaching up to nip your inner thigh with his teeth. ‘You want me to make you scream, right? Come sit on my face, baby.’

Holy fuck. You hear the metallic zing of a zipper being pulled down. Dieter’s eyes squeeze shut, his neck muscles pop, and you feel his hands move, out of sight. ‘I’m so fucking hard for you, baby. Please, ride my face while I stroke myself -’

‘Oh god,’ you grit out when you lower yourself onto his tongue, hips jerking when he grips one of your thighs almost painfully, grunting as you slide wetly on his tongue. Looking down, your lips part when you catch him watching you with a frown of quiet concentration as you grind down on him, too keyed up to find any sort of rhythm. It’s messy and crass, desperate above all else.

You know you’re drenched. Almost embarrassingly so. One of your hands drops to tangle in his hair, curls sticking to his forehead as his hairline beads with sweat.

‘Baby -’ You’re out of breath as you feel your orgasm building. ‘I’m close - oh god, Dieter -’

His fingers close around the plump flesh of your ass, and with a violent shudder, you’re thrown over the edge into a heaving, knee-shattering high, your slick and his spit dribbling down the inside of your thighs as you scrabble for air. Collapsing bonelessly onto the spine of the sofa, you feel Dieter wipe his saturated chin on your skin, leaving a cool trail, and you jump as if it burns you.

His whispers tickle the shell of your ear as he climbs onto the sofa behind you, cradling your smaller frame with his. ‘You came so hard, sweetheart. Such a good girl.’

You groan indulgently as he wraps himself around you. One hand finds your breast, and the other dips between your legs, a growl rattling in his chest when his fingers slip uselessly over your sodden pussy, unable to find any purchase.

‘All this cum for me,’ he hums, crooking two fingers to gather your slick before bringing them onto his cock, which nudges you just above your ass, stroking it languidly. ‘I missed you so much, baby.’

You nearly stumble over your words, too highly strung. ‘I missed you too. So fucking much.’

One hand turning your cheek, he claims your mouth possessively, sliding his tongue in to mark you with your own taste. Heat spreads across your skin as he caresses your lips sensually slow, his hand sliding down to hold your throat gently. He feels rather than hear your breath catch before you swallow thickly, the movement intimately pressed up against the tips of his fingers.

Sliding his cock through your wet folds, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to wet them. He fucking loves the feel of your tongue on him - anywhere on him. Mindful of how sensitive you are after you came, he runs the lightest path from your clit to your entrance, then up again.

‘Have you been touching yourself while I was gone?’ he asks gruffly.

‘Yes,’ you admit without putting up any resistance.

‘Stretch that tight pussy with your fingers?’

At your frantic nod, he retorts with a feral edge to his voice. ‘You pretend it was my cock instead?’

Gasping when you feel him notched at the mouth of your pussy, you cry out, ‘Yes!’

‘Well, you must have one hell of an imagination. How could these little fingers -’ he grabs you by the wrist and sucks on them, one by one, leaving them spit-soaked, before wrapping them around his throbbing cock. ‘- stretch you even a fraction of how my dick does?’

You flush at the filth tumbling out of his mouth, and you’ll be damned if you don’t give as good as you got. You smirk, ‘Why don’t you find out?’

‘Don’t have to ask me twice, baby,’ he grins into your shoulder, and one thick finger slides into you.

You feel his smile falter and his teeth dig into your skin instead. He groans into your ear, ‘Sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but you’ve been doing a pathetic job.’

You squeeze your hand around his cock and he lurches against you, grabbing you in a silent warning. You blink sweetly at him. ‘Stop gloating and do something about it then.’

Your smile falters when he pulls out of you, only to reenter with two fingers, and your chin drops to your chest at the fullness as he fills you. His ribcage vibrates with a satisfied hum against your back, sweat building up where your bodies meet.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he says, mouthing sweet kisses down your spine. ‘You’re doing so well for me. Good girl.’

Taking a deep breath, you do, and he eases in even further, eliciting a sharp gasp when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. He works into you at a steady pace, sometimes shallow, sometimes knuckle deep, until you start to pant, your hips twisting in pursuit when he draws out of your wet heat.

‘Harder,’ you demand, and he tightens the arm wrapped around your waist, pumping in earnest, teeth bared as he draws increasingly loud squelches from your cunt. He hisses when he feels you begin to clench around him, whimpering, ‘Fuck - fuck I’m gonna come again -’

Dieter wraps his whole body around you as you thrash in his arms, desperate sobs racking your frame as he rambles in your ear. ‘That’s it, let go, baby - this beautiful pussy’s getting my fingers so wet - gonna make you feel even better with my cock -’

Suddenly, the room spins and you’re lying on your back, Dieter’s weight pinning you to the soft cushions. You arch up lazily to kiss him, enjoying the heft of him on your body.

‘You ok?’ he asks almost sheepishly, nuzzling your neck. ‘Too much?’

You don’t skip a beat when you retort with a flippant shrug. ‘Honestly? Not enough cock.’

You grin at his splutter to your response. With a low growl, he grinds the underside of his erection against your folds. ‘That fucking mouth is gonna get you into trouble some day.’

You reply cheekily, ‘Sometime this morning would be preferable.’

Dieter reaches down to wrap your legs around his waist, lips on yours. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone else, but I can wear a condom if you want me to.’

You shake your head adamantly. ‘I want to feel all of you.’

Pushing your legs open wide, Dieter positions himself over you, teasing the head of his cock at your entrance, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. 

‘Look at me, sweetheart,’ he whispers, and pushes in.

Your noses knock together as he bites out a harsh fuck, rocking into you inch by inch with patient strokes.

‘So big,’ you moan, burying your nose in his shoulder. You feel his arms tremble as he holds himself over you. ‘You feel so good inside me.’

He grunts as he bottoms out, taking a second for you to adjust around him. ‘Are you still on birth control? ‘Cause there’s a very real possibility I’ll blow my load any fucking second -’

You take him by surprise when you bring a palm down onto his ass cheek in a sound slap. ‘Don’t you dare, Dieter Bravo.’

He grits his teeth at the sting that lingers on his skin and goes straight to his cock. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

He doubles down and fucks you hard, dipping his head to draw wet circles around your nipples with his tongue before biting down on the underside of your breasts, making your back arch, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper. You can only take him, hands around his neck, your lips clashing together in a wet tangle of tongue and teeth. You moan when he slides his hands under your ass, lifting your hips to change the angle. He plants his knees and thrusts into you feverishly, making your tits bounce to the rhythm.

Looking up at him, backlit by the soft morning light, you scrape your nails on his scalp, pulling at his curls until his eyes shut with a groan. His beard is scratchy on your fingertips when they draw a line down his strong jaw. You watch the endearing lines on his face crease as he watches you back, a small smile breaking through the intensity for just a moment before it gets too much again.

His knuckles on your hips turn white and the vein in his neck throbs. ‘I can’t hold on. Where do you my cum, sweetheart?’

‘Inside me, please,’ you plead, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips as he ruts recklessly into you.

His last thrusts shove you up the length of the sofa, and you watch as Dieter throws his head back when he comes. His hips crush against yours as he chokes on broken moans, spilling into you. But instead of winding down, he keeps pumping into you even when you feel his cum leak - hot and sticky - out of your cunt.

You look up at him, confused. ‘What - what are you doing?’

‘I’m still hard,’ he pants, eyes screwing shut from overstimulation, his body wound up painfully tight. ‘Oh god, fuck, I think I’m gonna cum again, baby -’

‘My tits - cum on my tits,’ you demand hurriedly.

He pulls out of you, and you feel his spend dribble and pool onto the sofa below. Cock in hand, Dieter clambers upwards, knees on either side of your hips as he strokes himself frantically, his tanned skin flushed with a sheen of sweat.

‘Ready, baby?’ he pants as he braces above you.

You nod and push your tits together, the visual sending him over the edge. He cries out your name, and you watch with your lips wantonly open as lewd, white lashes spurt over your nipples, the swell of your breasts, dripping into the valley of your cleavage.

With one last, strangled whine, Dieter collapses half onto you and half onto the couch, and you beam proudly at how absolutely wrecked he looks. You did that. You stretch languorously, and his gaze follows intently as beads of cum drip from your breasts and down your sides in thick streaks.

‘Look at you and your multiple orgasms,’ you tease, shuffling closer to peck him on the lips.

He grunts. ‘Didn’t wanna get upstaged by you, sweetheart.’

You shiver when he brushes a finger through the mess he made on your tits with a deep groan of satisfaction before pushing himself up with great effort, and settling himself between your thighs. Pinching your folds together gently, he groans as a pearly bead of his cum oozes out of you, feral eyes meeting yours. ‘I love seeing my cum all over you and inside you, baby.’

Glancing down at the wet patches on the cream-coloured sofa, you quip, ‘I don’t think you’re gonna get your rental deposit back, though.’

Sidling up to you, he kisses you and grins. ‘Totally worth it.’

The next time you wake up, it’s definitely the church bells ringing for the evening service that rouse you.

‘C’mon sweetheart, it’s dinner time.’

You turn to Dieter’s voice and pout sleepily. ‘What?’

‘You passed out after we took a shower, and I didn’t want to wake you for lunch,’ he recounts the missing hours to you. ‘Ana brought your suitcase around, by the way.’

You swing your legs off the side of the bed and stretch with a yawn. ‘She’s the best. We need to buy her dinner or something. Constance too.’

Dieter pulls you onto your feet to nuzzle the side of your neck. ‘Nope, sorry - you’re mine this weekend. Especially since you’ve already spent about half of it passed out cold.’

You roll your eyes and wriggle out of his grasp to unzip your suitcase, bending over to rummage through it for something to wear. ‘Hardly my fault that I find jetlag more compelling than your company, Bravo.’

He grins when you yelp at the smack that lands on your ass. ‘Hurry up, sweetheart. I’ll take you around the neighbourhood, and we can get pizza from my favourite place for dinner.’ 

Your stomach answers for you with a comically loud rumble. ‘Yes please, I’m starving.’

The streets look different in the dying daylight. You bask in the twilight sunshine, senses in overdrive as you take in the surroundings.

Dieter lets you drag him into a gelato shop to get a refreshing frutti di bosco in a cone, which you both take turns licking and biting into as you stroll through the neighbourhood. Then he ducks into a tiny deli to get some burrata and prosciutto in case you get midnight munchies later. As you get closer to town, the crowds start to thicken, and Dieter feels you shrink into yourself.

Brushing a kiss to your temple, he reassures you, ‘There’s no paparazzi here, sweetheart. I’ve been here for three months and no one has recognised me even once.’

Your shoulders relax. ‘And your fragile Hollywood ego lived to tell the tale?’

He pulls a squeal from you when he dives in for the last bite of the cone without warning, sucking melted purple gelato off your hand.

The pizzeria is tucked away on a side street, tiny tables and stools lining either side of the entrance, and there is no sign above the door. Stepping inside the dark interior, it’s piping hot with three men behind the counter, rolling out dough and cooking pizza in a wood fire oven, trading rapid-fire Italian.

A man with grey hair and an impressive handlebar moustache exclaims when his eyes land on the two of you, stepping from behind the counter. ‘Dieter! Amico mio, vieni qui!’ || ‘Dieter! My friend, come here!’

They embrace like life-long friends, the older man babbling Italian at him while he babbles back in English. You’re absolutely certain neither of them knows what the other is going on about.

Dieter gestures at you. ‘Lorenzo, I want you to meet my girl.’

He makes a delighted noise and kisses you flamboyantly on both cheeks. ‘Questa è tua moglie, vero? Buonasera, signora Bravo! Che bella coppia!’ || ‘This is your wife, yes? Good evening, Mrs. Bravo! What a beautiful couple!’

Dieter winds an arm around your waist and tells you proudly, ‘This place makes the best pizza in town, and they don’t even have a name! I found it one night when I was drunk off my ass. The best margherita I’ve ever had. Am I right, Lorenzo?’

The Italian smacks his lips in a chef’s kiss as if in agreement. ‘Voi avrete i bambini bellissimi! Te lo giuro!’ || ‘You two would have the most beautiful babies! I swear!’

‘Lorenzo says it’s something about the flour they use in the dough. Or was it the yeast?’

A wistfulness creeps into the Italian’s tone, and he suddenly leans forward to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger. You suspect he’s not exactly on the same topic of yeast. ‘L'amore è bello. Voi mi ricordate me e mia moglie defunta, pace all’anima sua!’ || ‘Love is beautiful. You remind me of my deceased wife and I, God rest her soul!’

Dieter claps his hands together to wrap up the unilateral, bilingual conversation. ‘Anyway - can we order the margherita and artichoke? Takeaway, please.’

Lorenzo lets your chin go and presses a kiss to his hand, then dispatches it heavenwards. ‘In onore della mia amata moglie, Maria, Includo gratuitamente un regalo speciale! I miei colombini preferiti!!’ || ‘In honour of my beloved Maria, I will include a special treat for free! My favourite lovebirds!’

Dieter pays for the order and a couple of limonata from the fridge, and you retreat outside to wait for your dinner. Sitting down on a low stone wall opposite the shop, you take a sip of the fizzy lemonade and remark, ‘Now, that’s what I call a character.’

He beams and laces his fingers through yours. ‘Isn’t he great? I want to move here someday.’

Your eyebrows reach for your hairline. ‘Really? Dieter Bravo living la dolce vita? Leaving behind the lights and vices of Hollywood?’

Before he can answer you, a piercing screech sends your heads spinning around to see Ana running down the street towards you, shouting and waving, ‘Hey, lovers!’

You laugh as she smothers you in a hug while simultaneously fiddling with her phone. ‘Oh my god, you guys are fucking adorable. One second, one second -’

You shriek when she brings up her phone to show you who’s on the screen. ‘Oh my god, Pete! We miss you!’

He waves at you through Facetime. ‘Babe, I cannot believe I’m not there to witness this first hand. It’s not fair! Let me see you two together!’

Ana grabs the phone and angles it so you and Dieter are both in the shot, and sing-songs, ‘Kiss cam, lovebirds!’

You roll your eyes. ‘Ana, we’re not just going to -’

You’re cut short when Dieter ambushes you with a full-mouthed kiss, and you hear both Pete and Ana squealing excitedly.

‘What are you doing? These two don’t need any more encouragement!’ you chide halfheartedly when he finally draws back, releasing your lips with a wet pop.

Dieter points at Pete through the screen then at Ana. ‘We’re keeping it under the radar for now, okay? No leaks to the papers or any of that shit.’

Ana nods solemnly. ‘Lips are sealed.’

‘I’m totally not screen recording this right now.’

You narrow your eyes at the phone. ‘Pete - ’

‘I’m joking, I swear!’ he protests. ‘Totally not crossing my fingers behind my back.’

Lorenzo appears with three pizza boxes even though you’re sure Dieter only ordered two, and he shepherds you on your way while speaking Italian, presumably saying something to the effect of eat it while it’s hot.

Ana waves, heading in the opposite direction. ‘I’d invite you for drinks with Constance and I later, but I doubt Dieter would let you out of your sight for even a second.’ 

‘She’s staying in my bed till Monday morning. Naked.’

‘Dieter!’ you admonish.

Ana laughs and winks at you as he impatiently drags you away. ‘Have fun, lovebirds. I’ll see you back stateside!’

And Pete gets the last laugh. ‘Don’t you forget - I called best man!’

A spiral staircase winds up to the rooftop you didn’t know existed, and you gape at the view from the top. The sea laps in the distance, blue and orange, waves rippling as if in slow motion. The rest of the town sitting on lower ground is laid out below your feet like a chaotic streetmap, the dinner-time ruckus a muted buzz in the distance. 

The terracotta tiles are sunwarm beneath your bare soles as you set the rustic dinner table under the canopy. Dieter appears at the doorway with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

‘I forgot the water. Do you want some?’ he asks.

You step around him and peck him on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’

You hum to yourself as you traipse your way back upstairs with a jug of water and two glasses full of ice from the kitchen. Dieter lines up the three takeaway boxes side by side, and rubs his hands in anticipation for the big reveal. ‘Alright, ready for the best pizza of your life, sweetheart?’

‘Go on, then,’ you grin.

He’s barely cracked open the first box a sliver - you catch a glimpse of a perfectly baked crust - before he snaps it shut with a panicked, ‘What the fuck?’

You frown. ‘What’s wrong?’

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the other hand on his hip. ‘Lorenzo - he pulled a prank on us.’

You reach for the box to see for yourself, but he snatches you by the wrist. You sigh, ‘C’mon, Dieter, I don’t care as long as I can still eat the pizza without getting food poisoning. I’m actually going to faint from hunger.’

He lets you go cautiously, holding his hands up soothingly like he’s trying to talk you off a ledge. ‘Just - promise me you won’t freak out, okay?’

You cross your arms. ‘You’re actually scaring me now.’

‘It’s not a declaration or anything. I didn’t ask them to do it.’

You’re about this close to stamping your foot like a child, but you take a deep breath and reply, ‘Dieter, seriously. I promise I won’t freak out, just -’

You trail off when he opens the box and you stare down at the contents.

It’s a heart-shaped pizza.

Any and all apprehension bleeds out of you as your shoulders quake with laughter. You open the other two boxes, which are identical in shape, with different toppings. Turning to Dieter, you pull him in by the scruff of his shirt to plant a kiss on his lips. ‘I love it.’

The relief is clear in his features. ‘Really? You’re not gonna flip and run off in the middle of the night?’

‘Unless there’s a diamond ring baked into the cheese - no, I won’t,’ you give him your word.

Dieter winks and kisses the centre of your palm. ‘Oh, you should be so lucky, sweetheart.’

Making yourself comfortable on the cushioned bench, you pat the space next to you. Reaching out for a slice of what smells like the best margherita you’re about to have, you sniff, ‘Be quiet and eat your pizza, Bravo.’

Pouring red wine into your glass, Dieter rambles on conversationally, ‘So… since you like heart-shaped pizza, does that mean I can get you heart-shaped cookies? Heart-shaped donuts? Heart-shaped marshmallows -’

Using his own trick on him, you shove the slice that was destined for your plate into his mouth instead to shush him. He spills wine everywhere in his haste to put the bottle down, and you laugh as he sputters. 

His mouth full, he shakes a finger at you as he chews and swallows. ‘I’ll get back at you for that, just you wait.’

You smile sweetly and grab another slice. ‘I’d like to see you try, Bravo.’

Pulling you flush against him, he looks down at you playfully, but his eyes are soft. ‘I will always try, sweetheart.’

And you know he will.

Rebecca is enjoying a rare evening alone. Coco is over at a friend’s pool party and won’t be home until after dinner, and Hank is still at the office. She flops heavily onto the outrageously expensive sofa she so rarely gets to enjoy, kicking off her high heels, when her phone buzzes. She arches an eyebrow when she sees the name on the screen.

‘Hello, darling. Long time no speak.’

‘Hey Becks. Listen, do you have any TV roles for me?’

‘Not even a hello, how are you, dear agent?’

She shakes her head fondly as he parrots back word by word, ‘Hello, how are you, dear agent?’

‘TV, you say?’

‘Something that will stick for at least a couple of seasons, in LA. And make sure it’s something edgy.’

‘By edgy, do you mean something that might have an intimacy coordinator role that needs filling?

‘Yes.’

‘And does that mean you want me to take your name out of the hat for the next Spielberg movie?’

There is no trace of doubt in his reply. ‘Yes.’

‘Alright then. I’ll have a scout around and send you some options in the next few days.’

‘Thanks, Becks.’

She smiles into the phone. ‘I’m happy for you, darling. Send her my love, please, and we’ll have you both around for dinner soon.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Will do.’

Two weeks later, a package arrives at your flat in Calgary, and you hand in your one-month notice the next day.

A covering letter to the contract directs you to an address in Sherman Oaks to drop off the documents in person the next weekend. You’re not aware of any studio offices in that particular part of town, but you need to go back Stateside to sort out something at your bank anyway, so it’s not particularly out of the way.

You slow your car down to the crawl when your phone announces that you’ve reached your destination. It’s clearly a residential area, and you double check the address - you’re definitely at the right place. Maybe it’s the HR director’s home address. You’ve been to far stranger places in your career, so you shake it off and walk up to the modern, white-washed house that sits on two floors, with a minimalist garden in the front.

You glance about at the tidy hedges after you press the doorbell, and you hear footsteps approach at a leisurely pace. You put on a professional smile in anticipation.

The door opens, and your jaw drops.

‘Hello, sweetheart.’

Before you can make heads or tails of the situation, the envelope in your hand slips out of your grasp and you launch yourself at him. Dieter staggers backwards with a laugh, his hands full of you and his lips on yours. It’s been three weeks since you said your goodbyes at the airport in Italy, with promises to see each other when filming wraps for the both of you in another month or so.

You can’t resist slapping him on the chest in rebuke for showing up unannounced. ‘What are you doing here?’

He shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Thought you’d appreciate a house tour now that you’ve signed up to the project.’

You look around, taking in the dark wooden floors and high ceilings painted white as he scoops up your abandoned papers and closes the front door. ‘What house tour?’

‘I told the studio you’ll be living with me. It’s the only reason they hired you, by the way, because we’ll be saving them accommodation costs.’

You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, so you don’t give him the satisfaction of a quick-tempered answer. Instead, you cock your head to one side, and purse your lips. ‘How did you know I want to live with you?’

His answer is unexpectedly forthright, and it hits you right in the stomach. ‘I don’t, but I hoped you would. I want to live with you.’

Rocking onto your tippy toes, you reach for him, but before your lips meet, he stops you, brandishing a piece of paper in your nose. ‘One minute, sweetheart. Since we’re now both employees of this show, we should really sign this Relationship Consent Form for HR before we do anything else.’

You blink and take a mental step back, suddenly alert. His smile is perfectly benevolent, which is suspicious in itself. He’s trying to pull something, you just know it.

But you go along with it. ‘Sounds like the responsible thing to do. You got a pen?’

Right on cue, Dieter pulls out a fancy-looking fountain pen and his glasses from his shirt pocket. ‘Voila. This way, sweetheart, we’ll do this in the kitchen.’ 

The foyer opens up into a large and modern kitchen space, with a marble counter separating it from the dining room. You like it - it’s not as coldly sleek as the apartment you shared while filming on Resurgence. It looks homey and lived-in despite knowing for a fact that the most Dieter’s ever used it for is pouring milk into a bowl of cereal.

He pulls out a chair for you at the dining table, even pushing your seat in before settling opposite you. You keep a watchful eye on him at this show of gallantry. Pointedly ignoring you, he smooths a hand over the consent form sitting in front of him, uncapping his fountain pen dramatically and putting on his reading glasses.

With a clap of his hands, he announces. ‘Ok, here we go. Fill in the name of Party A.’ He spells out yours letter by letter as he scribbles. ‘And Party B: Dieter Bravo.’

From where you’re sitting, his handwriting is barely legible and absolutely not contained to the pre-drawn lines.

‘I can do the writing, if you want,’ you offer, eye twitching at the mess.

Dieter smiles at you. ‘I got it, sweetheart, thanks.’ Clearing his throat, he reads the first question out loud. ‘Are Party A and Party B engaged or intend to engage in sexual intercourse?’

He looks up at you, as if expecting an answer. You frown. ‘What?’

‘You have to say the answers out loud.’

‘What?’

He taps somewhere on the piece of paper. ‘To consent, you have to say the answers out loud. Says right here.’

You sigh heavily and reply, ‘Yes.’

Dieter scrawls the answer with a flourish, and moves on to the next question. ‘Is the frequency or intended frequency of said intercourse between Party A and Party B expected to be equal to or exceed once a week?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are Party A and Party B engaged in or intend to engage in an exclusive sexual relationship?’

Your answer comes out sharper than you intend as your patience wears thin. ‘I fucking hope so.’

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t look up. ‘That’s a yes, then. Are Party A and Party B engaged in or intend to engage in an exclusive romantic relationship?’

You cross your arms suspiciously. ‘An exclusive romantic relationship? That’s an actual question in the form?’

He points somewhere in the middle of the page. ‘Yes, it says right here.’

‘I’m sorry, why does the studio need to know that?’

He sighs. ‘Sweetheart, it’s a simple question - yes or no?’

You shift in your seat, feeling vulnerable, but you answer in the affirmative. ‘Well, I mean, if I’m going to be living with you - yes.’

The smile he gives you nearly reaches his ears, and you smile back, before he looks down at the form and continues, ‘Now, this is an interesting one. Is Party B’s genitalia the most substantial Party A has ever had in terms of length and girth?’

Not even Dieter can keep a straight face.

You growl, reaching across the table to rip the piece of paper from his hands while he howls with laughter, reading glasses coming off. ‘Ugh, Dieter Bravo! You’re so fucking juvenile!’

He’s literally wiping tears from his eyes. ‘You should’ve seen your face, sweetheart. You were taking it so seriously.’

You run a critical eye over the form. It was obviously done in Word and printed out at home since the margins are all off. ‘You used Comic Sans? Comic Sans? You might as well have written this in purple crayon!’

‘Hey! Don’t judge a consent form by its font, sweetheart.’ He rounds the table and grabs it from you, pinning it onto the kitchen counter with his pen. 

‘I forgot one last question, it’s an important one,’ he says, and you squeak when he lifts you up onto the cold marble surface of the kitchen counter by the back of your thighs. Close enough to bump noses, his breath hot on your lips, he asks, ‘Does Party A consent to being thoroughly railed on this kitchen counter by Party B right about now?’

Grabbing the pen sitting next to you, you scribble carelessly over the sheet, before tossing it somewhere behind you without looking. It floats languidly, landing feather-light on the kitchen floor, soon joined by hastily half-unbuttoned, half-unzipped clothing and underwear. 

Your answer to Dieter’s question - all his questions - is scrawled across the page in a clear, emphatic hand.

Fuck yeah.

[ the end ]

Very long note: This wasn't the easiest chapter to write, but then, I guess finales never are easy! Having said that, I already knew what the last scene was going to be when I decided to make this a series, and it was surreal to finally see it typed out in black and white.

I also made sure the supporting cast - Pete, Ana and Rebecca - each made a cameo in this last part. They've been so important to the plot, and your reaction to these OCs makes me so warm and fuzzy inside. I'm very happy with the way this chapter turned out eventually - I hope you are too!

I've left things fairly open in this finale. I don't feel like Dieter and Reader have to make any grand declarations to each other, or to put a label on anything, for this stage of their story to be complete. This also gives me the space to explore their relationship in further instalments. While I don't see another full-fledged series in this universe, there will definitely be drabbles and one-shots in the future.

Before I lose my shit and start crying up a storm, I need to give credit to these lovely people who helped me with this chapter.

❤️ First, I want to thank Cristina @pedropascalsx for making the gif set for the last ever sneak peek. It really set the tone for the finale, and I will cherish it forever.

❤️ Second, thank you Kat @katareyoudrilling for helping me with the Italian translations. Your notes were so detailed, I loved learning about the language from your explanations.

❤️ Third, the heart-shaped pizza idea came from a reblog @hquinzelle left for a previous chapter, and it's been stuck in my head since! Thank you for letting me use this idea for this chapter.

Lastly, thank you to every single one of you who have interacted with this fic in any way. I have been blown away by your love and support every step of the way. Thank you for taking a chance on this story, which started off as a horny one-shot (and my first time ever writing smut), and ended up a short series that I'm so proud to have written for this beautiful mess of a man and - most importantly - for all of you❤️

Ok I'm going to go bawl my eyes out now.

[joycew-art]

Someone asked what my process was to make the Rickbot comic, so I thought I'd make a separate post to show it. The process was kinda all over the place and spread over many months from December 2022 up till June 2023, so I'll try my best to make it understandable. And if you have any questions feel free to ask them!

The idea

So it all started with the idea of; What if Rickbot came back? And then the idea immediately made me think of two things;

How would Rickbot react?

Why is he brought back?

Which ended up with these two scenarios in my mind;

A. Rickbot awakens and he's not happy B. Rick tells the reason he's activated again

These were the very first scenes that started it all.

So then the question became, how do I go from point A to point B?

I would take moments from the show as reference for how they would act in these scenarios. And I'd take inspiration from manga and other comics of how I wanted the dialogue to flow and what the comic layouts would look like. In this case I knew a lot of dialogue would be involved cause these guys talk a lot! But I also didn't want the panels to feel too crowded and rushed so I limited myself to the amount of dialogue per panel.

Right now I'm writing it down like it was very planned, but for me this was often a very subconscious thing I did. I just thought up scenarios while I was taking walks or daydreaming in the shower etc. And sometimes these very specific moments would pop up that I would write down or draw out later.

I would make mini thumbnails of how I wanted the pages to go and write the dialogue next to it. At this point I'm mainly thinking of what I want characters to say and how I want the story to flow. Sometimes I make multiple versions of the same scenario to see how it flows better.

At times I even only write down dialogue and then make the thumbnails for them later. I have a tiny a6 sketchbook for little thumbnails and ideas like this. These were often moments were I didn't know where I wanted to take the comic yet, so I would separate the two to keep it more organized for myself.

As you might have noticed, not everything is the same in the final comic. I always fine-tune or change stuff up as I go. Sometimes things don't flow as well as I thought they did or some dialogue feels awkward or unnecessary.

Sketching

Once all the pages were planned and I have a good idea of how the story would go I opened a new Clip Studio Paint file and used the comic feature to set that up.

I would then copy the thumbnails I made in the page files and exported a thumbnail draft of the whole comic and 'read' through it to see how it flowed.

After I was satisfied I finally started sketching the pages.

Most of the pages stayed the same from the thumbnail, aside from some poses or expressions here and there. But I would also change up stuff I wasn't satisfied with.

For example, initially the Prime panel looked like the left one, but I didn't like how the pose flowed with the text balloons. There was a lot of empty space as well. So I decided to redo it to the one on the right.

Even now for the final version I'm thinking of resizing Rick a bit more. These kind of changes just happen throughout the process.

The backgrounds

I knew the comic would only take place in the garage, so to save myself a lot of time I decided to make it in 3d.

First I decided to sketch out the four walls of the garage as planes;

Then I imported those in Blender. I did some simple 3d modeling to get the basic shapes for the counters and the cabinet et voila! 3d sketch version of the garage!

I know this is a very watered down explanation, but trying to explain how I did it would take a whole new tutorial. And there are many other ones out there that explain it much better than I could. I was lucky that I already have some Blender experience cause of past works I've done for school and stuff.

But if you got the time to delve into it I would recommend it! For this here you only need to know the basics. Also Blender is free to download :)

This has saved me a lotttt of time drawing the same backgrounds over and over again!

Cover

Lastly I did the cover. That one has also gone through multiple versions. I had a vague idea of what I wanted, but I wasn't happy with the execution so I redrew that one as well.

So that's the whole process so far. I do I wanna continue the comic once I got the energy to work on it again. Gonna do some test pages first to see what kind of rendering I wanna go for. Not sure if'll be in black and white, color or a combo...we'll see.

I hope this helps! And if you have any questions don't be afraid to ask them.

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Script progress + Updates💙

Hello and welcome new followers, long time no see! I was very busy most of this month, but I am back and ready to continue from where I left off on the game! This game development post might be a bit long but I tried to condense everything! :]

"How are things going so far?":

It's going slow and steady! I haven't been able to do too much these past few weeks, however, I wrote a few parts out before I got too busy and couldn't do anything else.

I want to be very careful when it comes to spoilers but, based on your choices, some of these areas will give off immersive cozy/homelike vibes that really express Noah and the player(Y/N)'s view towards each other. In the old 2023 script I was very new to writing so the small semi-hints of romance weren't the entire focus compared to the horror aspect but there's a better balance between both genres now and I'm still aiming for a meaningful slow burn versus it just being all over the place. :] I liked writing them a whole bunch which lead to a lot of these taking place in the mid/end of Day 4+, they just need to be placed in specific areas that call for it. With that being said, it felt really comfy adding key details about Noah and creating meaningful sections in the game. I was even going to draw out some of the unseen script/scenes but I believe the best thing to do is give deeper lore from the [Extended Demo] first. Even though my writing style has improved I still have to fix the multiple pacing issues I wrote last year.

"Playtester's advice":

I wanted to continue working through Noah's backstory but I kept having moments where I'd get sidetracked into wanting to fix up the start of the game again. Eventually, I talked to my play testers about it and they gave me a few encouraging pointers.

To help keep my process at ease, I will fix the beginning of the game when I take breaks from writing up Noah's backstory. :]

I talked about this during early 2024 but the start of the game that leads up to the cabin is still getting reworked. I was able to get some of it fixed for the [Extended Demo] but I wasn't done. Things are still up in the air but, I will say that I have a better view of everything than I did before. :] Another priority that needs fixing are the backgrounds! I've improved a lot on drawing and they need to be optimized. When you first start up the game, you wake up in a holed out tree in the swamp with the choice to leave this area and possibly end up in the forest. I was going for a very immersive form of symbolism that only a few noticed but, I believe I can do a better job about this. Unfortunately I don't have any new backgrounds to show right now but maybe next week I'll have some finished up! :]

"Art process/Noah's sprite sheets":

As far as Noah sprite sheet goes, it's still in sketch mode.

I didn't draw anything since I was gone so I need to do a few warm ups before I get to them. There are some old drawing prompts I wrote down and old sketches that I never got a chance to doodle so hopefully I can get to them at some point with some attached lore. :,]

My Q&A / Ask box has been reset!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks in the past, unfortunately they all disappeared except for 1 while I was gone. I have no idea what happened but I can only guess it just got reset.

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask or resend them in here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

This is all I have to share so far, Thank you to everyone for the continued support and patience while I was gone! I was ready to accept the interest for this game to fade out and coming back to see that it didn't happen makes me happy, I really appreciate it. :,]

[readyforthegarden]

Eternal - Part One

A vampire!gvf multi-part dark romance AU (Josh Kiszka x reader, GVF x reader)

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. Mentions of blood, death, vampirism. This chapter itself contains mentions of sex, possessive behavior, and strange dreams.

AN: A huge shoutout to @lunaindigoraven for being the best and workshopping this with me for MONTHS and encouraging me to keep going on it! I couldn't do it without you bestie!!! Thank you guys so much for being patient as I worked through a bunch of crap in my life and finally got this little story together for yall! I'm so excited to share this work with you! I don't have a schedule for this fic like I've had before, but hopefully it will be weekly!

WC: 2303

“We’re just moving in opposite directions.” the words echoed in your head. “It’s nothing you’ve done, but I just don’t think we’re a good fit any more.” those are the words your fiancé had said to you a month ago, when you came home to find him in the process of moving his things from your apartment. What had started as a trip home in the middle of the day to surprise your work-from-home fiancé with some ‘afternoon delight’ turned into a night of heartbreak. 

You let yourself wallow longer than you cared to admit. You had moved to a new city, and met Drew shortly after, and the whirlwind romance blossomed. Dinners and drinks and dancing turned into moving in with one another, settling down and starting a domestic life, cooking meals and folding laundry together. You were building a life with him after the past three years, and suddenly, everything you had built was pulled out from under you. It wasn’t until your work friend, Willa, took pity on you and invited you out with a small group of her girlfriends for a night out.

That’s how you ended up here. You’d been coming almost nightly to this club, to drink, dance and maybe go home with a stranger. It felt good to forget for a little while, how your life had crashed down around you. The other dancers around you didn’t care what you were going through, the drinks were okay, and the occasional partner you went home with satisfied your need for touch.

As you moved to the music, you began to feel like you were being watched. Shaking your hair from your face you glanced around the club, trying to spy anyone looking in your direction. As you scanned, you locked eyes with a man in a vintage looking tailored suit, lounging back in a chair in one of the V.I.P. areas off to the side of the dance floor, up a level and separated by thick velvet ropes. He seemed at ease as he watched you dance, like he was watching a performance meant for him. He ran a hand through his curls as he watched, giving you a small smirk. You gave him a quick up and down as you turned away. 

He’d been there every night this week as well, sitting in that damn chair while his friends partied around him. You’d met eyes with him a few times since you’d started coming to the night club, the two of you always sending seemingly flirty looks to one another, but nothing ever coming from it.

You moved yourself into the crowd further, trying to shake the feeling of his eyes on you and lose yourself in the loud music again. If he wasn’t going to make a move, you weren’t going to be bothered by his attentions. Swaying your hips and rolling your shoulders back you let the music and alcohol take over again. Making eye contact with Willa, you both started dancing together. Her hand laced with yours and the two of you moved your bodies together for a while before a hand rested on your waist. 

Letting go of Willa and turning, you came eye to eye with the man from the VIP section, looking down at you. His hand moved to the small of your back but the pressure was light, like he wanted you to make the move closer instead of him pulling you in. Instead, you turned back around as a new, slightly slower song started playing. His hands rested on your hips now as you continued your dancing, drawing out the figure-eights you were doing with your hips and subtly pushing back against him. The man matched your movements and you felt the grip on your hips become more firm, yet he still let you lead and let you be the one to choose to move your body closer. 

It wasn’t so bad, dancing with this stranger. In fact, the way his one hand now wound around your front, resting on your stomach to hold you in place against him felt nice. You felt his breath on your neck and reached behind you, resting your hand on the back of his neck. The two of you danced through the next few songs, not caring about the tempo or if you were off beat, it felt like you were in your own world, being jostled around by other dancers around you. After a while, the man turned you around, asking if you wanted a drink. You nodded, suddenly realizing how parched you were. He took your hand, leading you through the crowd and to the bar. 

You settled at the bar, on the stool next to this man that you'd been dancing with. As you waited for the bartenders attention, you caught the eye of a tall blonde man down to your left. If this guy didn’t work out, maybe a tall blonde could meet your needs tonight. You bit your bottom lip and gave him a smile as he looked you over. You straightened your posture, making sure your chest was pushed forward as you shoulders rolled back and you watched the man's eyes dart down to the low neckline of your dress.

You didn’t notice how the jaw of the man next to you clenched at the exchange of looks you were currently in with this stranger, and his arm crossed your lap, hand grabbing your left thigh, letting his fingertips dig into the flesh of your exposed thigh and dragged your seat next to his until you’re flush against him.

“There’ll be none of that tonight, love.” you turned towards him, scoffing at his nonchalant yet demanding tone. You didn’t want to let on that the small spark of jealously and the pet name from him made your stomach flip with excitement.

“And why not? I’m a free woman.” the man's golden brown eyes stared down at you, glinting in the neon lights at the clubs bar. You felt your heart start to pound in your chest. The way he looked at you, there was a hunger in his eyes, yet he was reserved, like he was going to wait for you to offer yourself on a platter to him, like he knew you would. It made you feel like you were on fire, and you were sure your cheeks were tinged with red.

“Woman, yes. Free? Not any longer.” His fingers flexed and dug into your thigh. "You're mine." you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to fight the smirk that wanted cross your face. All the nights of looks across the dance floor and he was finally breaking.

"And what if I don't want to be yours? Tonight or ever." you shot back with a raise of your eyebrows, challenging him and leaning in. He smirked confidently down at you, and let his fingers trace up to the hemline of your skirt, creeping under and grazing the skin of your inner thigh. He leaned in close, his lips grazing your cheek before moving to your ear, his voice low and slow.

"Your body language tonight seems to say otherwise." he murmured. “Tell me, have any of the men you’ve left with recently even satisfied you?” you took a quiet, deep breath in as you tried to keep your composure. The way this man looked at you, especially so closely, was making you feel like melting into the stool beneath you, and his hand on your leg wasn’t helping.

“And why would that be your business?” you squinted at him, trying to remain coy. The man licked his lower lip slowly as he smirked down at you.

“It’s not, but I don’t think you’d be coming here every night for a week if they were.”

“And you think you can do the job?” 

“Oh, I know I can.” you pursed your lips, looking away from him and ran your tongue over your teeth to give yourself a few moments to think of a good comeback. “But you’ll have to wait a little longer for that.” you eyed him, sizing him up. His lips were curled into a smarmy smile that somehow charmed you, and you found yourself disappointed he was getting up from the barstool next to you. He finished off his drink and nodded to the bartender. “Your tab is taken care of, thank you for the dance, love.” he took your hand before you knew it, pressing his soft lips to the back of it, a small tingle being left in it’s wake when he pulled away, giving you a small smoldering look as he left you. 

It was like you blinked and he was gone, disappearing into the crowd, presumably to make his way back to the VIP section. You turned back towards the bar, tossing back the fruity drink special and moving to get up. The blonde man from across the bar was making his way over now, and you raised a hand up in his direction, shaking your head and walking away, moving to the front of the club to get your coat from the coat check. 

While you waited for coat check, you sent a quick text to Willa, letting her know you were leaving and you’d see her at work the next day, before shoving the phone back into your bag, and slipping on your coat. You were able to get a cab outside fairly quickly and tucked yourself into the backseat after giving the driver your address, watching out the window as the lights of the city passed. You hadn’t realized you’d been running your fingers over the spot on the back of your hand where the man had kissed until you had to stop, and open the cab door. Your thoughts had only been of the man; his confidence in your attraction to him, his entire aura was dizzying and consuming. 

Crawling into your bed, a sigh left your lips while the blankets settled around you. A momentary break in the quiet peace when your cat, Jameson, jumped up onto your bed, curling up near your pillow. The Siamese cat purred loudly as he fell asleep, contented that you were home. Closing your eyes, you focused on the soft noise from the animal, letting it lull you to your own sleep, thinking only of the dark, sparkling brown eyes that had made your heart feel like it was on fire.

Wind swirled around you, whipping your hair across your face as you tried to take in your surroundings. Once you were able to clear your vision, your eyes only saw darkness. Putting out a hand to feel your way around, your palm came into contact with something rough after only a few steps. Running your fingers over the object, it felt wooden, scratchy, and jagged, and you soon realized it was a tree trunk. 

As if a switched were flicked, a bright, shining light burst from the leaves above, showcasing the vibrant green of them, the rich browns of the branches and trunk itself. Under your hand, you felt a beat, and placing your other palm flat against the large trunk, you let out an astonished gasp as the tree pulsed, as if it were a beating heart. Your mind was racing, thinking about how amazing of a discovery this could be, and how beautiful the tree was, gazing up through the leaves. The joy in your heart was immeasurable, and you wanted to wrap your arms around the trunk as far as you could and cling to it.

Basking in the glow, you almost didn’t notice the shadows at the edge of the light. Flickering and moving like smoke, twisting in angry swirls as they tried to enter into the light, only to be forced out. A pit formed in your stomach as you watched them, whatever they were, try to fight their way against whatever invisible force was keeping them out. You backed yourself against the tree trunk, knowing your body was too small to really protect it if they should break through. The wind picked up again, the branches creaking and swaying , and your eyes widened as you noticed them moving, coming down around you, as if the tree was instead protecting you. As you felt yourself become cocooned in the limbs, you saw one of the shadows strike against the edge of the light, over and over again until a crack sounded, and suddenly darkness flooded through. A silent scream ripped from your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as the black mass shot towards you, sounding like a train barreling down the tracks.

Then suddenly, you were sitting up in your bed, your eyes focusing in the darkness of your bedroom, cold shivers running through your body. Your shirt was stuck to your skin from sweat, and you tossed the blankets off, pulling the material off your body and going to the closet for a new, dry shirt. After getting yourself some water in the kitchen, you went back to your bedroom, rubbing your face tiredly and setting the glass down on the nightstand. A glimmer in the moonlight caught your eye as you lifted your hand away from the glass, and you furrowed your brow, picking up the delicate gold chain. A sheer, white stone pendant hung from it in the shape of teardrop. It was small, and you couldn’t remember where you’d gotten it. You didn’t even remember seeing it before. And yet you unclasped the hook and eye, putting it around your neck and letting the pendant rest just above your chest as you climbed back into bed, turning over and grabbing Jameson from his perch by your head and pulling him into your body, falling back asleep.

Taglist:

@lunaindigoraven @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvf2 @gretavanfleetposts @gretavanfran @josiee-gvf @highdefkiszka @ascendingtostardust @joshkiszkatoothgap @andeejoness @gardensgatedaisy @kkdarling @demonrat444 @teddiie @writingcold @dannyandthekiszkas @gretavanbestie @lightmylove-gvf @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @gretavanslut @tearsofbri @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @hippievanfleet @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @sunfl0wer-power @jankandjonch @writingcold

[genericpuff]

lmao so RS just confirmed she STILL does not, in fact, have a buffer.

FAST PASS SPOILERS AHEAD

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To kick this off, let's be real, 2 weeks is NOT enough time to build up a reasonable buffer.

When she took that 2 week break after the wedding episode went up, I knew 1 of 2 things was going to happen:

She was going to piss away the entire break on social media not getting anything done

Even if she DID get anything done and a reasonable buffer of more than 3-5 episodes built up, the episodes likely wouldn't be very high quality as you can't turn out shitloads of decent quality panels like that in just 2 weeks.

I think Rachel really just needs to acknowledge and take ownership of the fact that she is not good at managing herself, her time, or her team. When she started LO in the Originals section, she even admitted to not having a very strong buffer.

Now yes, in her defense, she hadn't fully transitioned to drawing LO full time when she started, but even still, she seems to treat her FastPass episodes as her buffer rather than creating an actual buffer.

A buffer is not "well I still have 3 episodes locked to the general public" or "I have the next couple episodes sketched up".

A proper buffer is "I have the next several episodes finished and exported and ready for their respective release dates." This ensures that they aren't racing to meet deadlines during the release period after pre-production (which is a surefire way to screw yourself over or write yourself into a corner) and that if anything happens in real life that prevents them from working on future episodes, they can still put out new episodes because they have a cushion of episodes still waiting to be released. Webtoons typically recommends its creators have anywhere from 9-15 episodes of buffer ready by the end of the pre-production phase. That usually means 3 free episodes, 3 FastPass episodes, and at minimum, 9 more episodes sitting on the backend, adding up to a minimum of 15 episodes. It sounds like a lot, but when many WT series run for 40+ episodes per season, 15 is a small number. Especially for a comic like LO which had 90 episodes in its S2 run and 116 in its first season. S3 of LO is already 37 episodes in.

She's also basically admitted to just writing as she goes in the past because most people working on their webtoons in productions like these have at least a decent skeleton of a story going on that they don't have to write as they draw. Writer's block doesn't happen in webcomics unless you're writing as you're going, same as how it doesn't typically happen in animated movies because you should already have a basis to work off of before you start the brunt of the visual work that needs a narrative structure to exist.

Now, all that aside, the reason I'm bringing this up again (as I've talked about her buffer range before) is because I've once again been proven that Rachel doesn't have a shred of a real buffer.

And the smoking gun this time was the horse.

This stupid fucking horse.

Now, besides the fact that we're a little sus this is meant to be an in-comic jab at all the criticism of LO pointing out how Persephone always looks like an MLP character-

-but that pony toy drawing didn't make its first appearance in Episode 241, it made its first appearance on Instagram. Not as a preview for episode 241 or as an official LO drawing, in her own words, 'just a pony'.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

As always, this is still just an estimation based on what goes out in LO and what Rachel posts to her IG/Twitter, but this pretty much tells me her buffer is STILL only 1-2 weeks ahead of time, because that pony drawing time lapse was posted two weeks ago. When we checked the actual timestamp of the post the day the episode it showed up in went up (Episode 241) it was ten days old.

Not to mention, the timestamps on those reddit posts? A month old. Granted, we had been making MLP jokes in the ULO/antiLO community prior to that, but the fact that this "my pretty pony" gimmick came out so soon after someone did literal art of Persephone crossed over with MLP, it really just furthers the suspicion (in addition to shitloads of other instances) that Rachel is snooping in on these crit communities to try and "clap back" at them through her comic. Which is something she'd only be able to do with a limited buffer anyways as it allows her to change things on the fly in response to criticism or whatever hurt her feelings that week.

That said, I won't be certain of this 1-2 week buffer estimation until we see when cowboy hat Hades shows up.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

I'm calling it now - it will be showing up in this week's episode which goes up April 22nd.

Place your bets, folks.