#There have been times where I went on a walk for a bit in a nice warm sweater that I love <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[meelusinee]

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT ✦ M.R x READER

in which mattheo is absolutely in love with you before you two even talk for the first time

pairing: lovesick!mattheo riddle x reader

tags: lovesick mattheo, fem reader, so tamino inspired

word count: 3.7k

warnings: just fluff again! along with easily flustered mattheo (+ teasing theo)

author's note: my second post!! i made a small playlist of tamino songs i used for mattheo in this. if you haven’t, please go listen to him (his music is so good). i based this off a small part of my first fic where theo sang to reader. as always, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

NOW SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SKIRT | M.R x READER

Mattheo didn’t know much about love. 

Between being raised by a dictator and his craziest follower, he already didn’t have a very good start. Especially whenever he would get in trouble, the Cruciatus Curse was definitely no joke. Not to mention everyone pestering him about the legacy he led. News flash to the Gryffindors who would try to pick on him, he found it quite obvious that he was Voldemort’s son.

Suffice to say that he didn’t know much about love. He never had a true showcase of it, never had an example of it to compare to anything. The closest he ever had being another stunted teenager by the name of Theodore that considered him his brother, but even then there was still distance.

That was until he met you.

You, the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire existence on this Earth. Anything he  lol looked at on you he would find absolutely perfect, from the color of your eyes to the way your hair bounced in the sunlight.

That alone made it hard to approach you. Your nice demeanor seemed to make it even harder.

So, he settled with admiring from afar. Mattheo knew your schedule, the classes that you would take and every time that it varied. He would subtly watch you in classes, hang around the same areas you did during your break periods, or even where you went for fun. And, to the best of his ability, he tried to avoid things that looked bad. No more fights or cursing, not unless he was truly provoked.

His mind also got its grubby hands on the idea of a journal. A place he could write about you freely, one he charmed so only he could read it. Entries, song ideas, anything he could think of. You made him an artist, you as his perfect muse.

And it all got even better when you two finally met.

You had just walked down to the courtyard, Mary Janes clacking along the rocks as you made your way over to a small pillar.

Recently, you noticed someone sitting by the pillars a lot more than usual. He was tall, his face usually covered by his brown curls as he wrote inna small journal he always carried with him. Said tall man with a face covered by his brown curls was your current potions partner, you had both been assigned to create a Liquid Luck potion.

“Hello?” you called out gently. face tilted down just a bit as you looked down at him. His eyes locked with yours when he looked up, the most beautiful shade of molten honey you had ever seen meeting your eyes. “Hi there, stranger.”

“Hello?” he whispered back at you, eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. His face looked rather cute when it was all scrunched up like that, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“I’m your Potions partner.” you said with a smile, flattening your skirt before moving to sit down next to him. “For the Liquid Luck project.”

“Oh,” he whispered, nodding as he closed his journal. It had a rather pretty leather cover, the pages aged and covered in ink from what you could tell. “Yeah, I remember. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding. “And you’re Mattheo.”

“Yes I am.” he said, a soft smile coming on his face as he heard that. He looked at you with something special in his eyes, eyes that carved themselves deep into your soul with the most intricate patterns you could think of.

The trance both of you seemed to be stuck in was broken when he cleared his throat, fingers tapping on his journal. “Did you have any ideas for the project?”

“Oh,” you whispered, nodding. “Yes, yes I do. I was thinking that we head to the library and research different potion methods and whatnot. Based on Slughorn’s instructions, I’m assuming that the instructions in the books won’t help much.”

“You’re a genius.” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“What was that?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat as he began to sit up. “Do you want to go now?”

Mattheo thought that he was dreaming, if he was being honest.

The girl of his dreams, the girl that he had wrote almost obsessively day and night about for almost six years, that same girl was currently sitting across from him. Laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she smiled at his joke, her voice sweet like a piece of cotton candy melting on your tongue. He didn’t even remember what he had joked about at this point, his mind turning to mush the moment he heard that sound pass your lips.

Those lips that haunted his dreams every single night, the image of them so plush and pure he wanted to worship them like one would a holy angel. They looked absolutely perfect.

“Thank you,” he whispered, smiling softly as he rested his chin on his hand. He probably looked like a lovesick puppy, but he didn’t mind. 

“I found something really interesting in this book  by the way,” you said, Mattheo’s eyes instantly darting to where your hands were resting on the page. “It says in the recipe that we need to juice a squill bulb, which most people just cut it for. But this recipe here notes that squeezing ingredients over a funnel gets more juice out.”

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered, his gaze looking at your face as you spoke. 

“Isn’t it?” you asked with a smile. “And here it says that adding the entire Murtlap makes the potion last longer, rather than just growth.”

“That’s also really interesting.” he whispered again, gaze still stuck on your face. You looked so pretty whenever you were concentrating on things, the way your eyebrows furrowed making him think of a million different songs and rhythms. 

“Is it?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “I always found Potions an interesting topic.”

“Always is not a word. It’s more of a concept.” you said, humming as you continued reading the pages. Mattheo chuckled softly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered. 

Theo was sitting in his bed reading a book, his curtains almost completely closed as he flipped between page to page. At least, he pretended to.

Recently, he had noticed Mattheo’s obsessive journaling habits. How his hands would be covered in ink by the time he was finished, or how he’d write until his new candle burnt out. Sometimes Mattheo would write even when the candle burnt out, instead opting for yet another one.

It was rather concerning to Theo, to say the least. Out of all of the things Mattheo could do, he was changing who he was. Self-improvement was one thing, but it seemed like he changed an obsession from fighting to writing.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Mattheo mumbled, looking back over at where Theo was sitting.

“I’m surprised you can,” Theo said under his breath, closing his book and standing up. “With how much you’ve been writing, I’d assume you get sucked in by a black hole sometime soon.”

“Oh hush,” he whispered, looking up from the journal. His hands were stained black and red with quill ink, the candle beside him still burning brightly. “Why do you keep staring at me? You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Your journal.” Theo smirked, walking behind Mattheo and placing his hands on his Mattheo’s shoulder. “What’s inside?”

“Why would I tell you?” Mattheo grumbled, continuing to write in the journal. Theo’s eyes squinted as they tried to read whatever was on the page, but the words were too jumbled to make any sense to him. No doubt a charm.

“You charmed the journal?” Theo asked curiously, looking down at Mattheo.

“Like you care.” he whispered under his breath, the quill scratching loudly against the paper. The room was quiet other than that, nothing but the quill scratching and the candle crackling.

“I do.” Theo said, his voice a bit more stern. He pulled up a chair next to Mattheo, resting his elbow on the table. “Mattheo, you’re pushing everyone away. Even me, and it’s not healthy. All you do is write in this journal, it’s kind of worrying.”

“I just like writing,” Mattheo whispered, moving his legs to rest his knees near his chest.

“About what?” Theo asked, his voice more soft than teasing.

“You’ll judge.” Mattheo whispered again, flicking the quill back and forth as his eyes glanced over at Theo. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Theo whispered. “I promise I won’t judge.”

Mattheo sighed before turning to the journal, pressing his wand against it as the words came into view more clearly. His handwriting was a lot more cursive than Theo first remembered, no doubt changing the more he wrote. 

“It’s a journal about her,” Mattheo whispered, flipping through some of the pages. “Love letters, poems, songs and stuff.”

“Her?” Theo asked curiously. “Who’s her?”

“Her,” Mattheo muttered to Theo, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He looked like a blushing schoolboy who found his first love, it was rather cute to watch. “It’s, like, she’s a girl I just really like. I think about her a lot, you know? And I’m just trying to improve myself for her.”

“What’s her name?” Theo asked, resting his head against his hand as he crossed his legs.

“Y/N.” Mattheo sighed, like the word itself was a part of some holy prophecy. “She’s so beautiful, you know? Like something from heaven, just beautiful. And I just can’t get her out of my head.”

“Have you ever tried talking to her?” Theo asked, a small smile on his face.

“We have this project together right now.” he said, chuckling softly as he spoke. He was so down bad. “She took me to the library to research more about potions. Merlin, she’s so smart Theo. She figured the reason why nobody could make the potion was because the instructions were wrong.”

“So you both started researching?” Theo asked.

“She researched, yeah,” Mattheo said, before chuckling again. His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I kind of just sat watching her the entire time.” 

“Mattheo,” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“You said you wouldn’t judge!” Mattheo protested.

“I’m not judging.” Theo chuckled, looking down at the journal. “I’m just confused on how you think you’ll get your girl if you can’t even talk to her. Journaling can only go so far.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, looking down at his journal again. “But it still helps.”

Theo nodded, looking down at the journal again. “What are you writing about right now?”

“Uh,” he muttered, looking at the pages. “It’s a song. She said something at the library that made me think of a song, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”  

“What’s it sound like.” Theo asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Uhm,” he whispered, picking at his nails again as he pushed the journal towards Theo. He hummed softly as he picked it up, eyes squinting as he tried to read his handwriting.

Darling, just calm with your voice

Let your heart sing, how I always enjoy 

When you say “always” is not a word

You think love is a bit absurd.

“That’s really nice,” Theo said, looking up at Mattheo with a small smirk. “This is a lot better than I thought it’d be, to be honest.”

“What did you think I was writing about?” Mattheo asked confusedly.

“Dark magic or something.” Theo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like you were possessed by a ghost to figure out how to resurrect themselves.”

Mattheo chuckled at that, taking his journal back. “I think you’ll find someone like this, you know. It makes life really nice.”

“Being in love?” Theo asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Mattheo whispered. “In love.”

“Well, there’s always an opportunity for that. And when it happens, it’ll happen.” Theo said, patting his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “But until then, there’s cigarettes.”

“You know the way to my heart, don’t you?” Mattheo snickered at that, using the lit candle to light his own cigarette.

It had been a couple of weeks since you and Mattheo had started working on your project. You had figured out how to maximize the efficiency of your potion brewing, including changing methods of brewing and preparing ingredients. After about three different trials, you had finally found the perfect way to brew the potion. 

“That’s perfect.” Mattheo smiled softly at you, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. In all honesty, it looked like a regular potion to him. “I think that’s perfect, right?”

“That is perfect.” you said, giggling softly as his reaction You found it rather cute, if you were being honest. He seemed rather nervous around you. “Thank you for doing all of this with me, the potion work and all. Most people would probably just leave it to me, you know?”

“Why would they leave?” Mattheo asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrugged, looking down at the potion still set in the cauldron as you spoke. “I don’t really know. I guess people consider me weird or something like that. Someone said that I was whimsical once, I don’t think it was a nice way though.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Mattheo spat. He couldn’t understand the logic of that. In his eyes, you were absolutely perfect. He would give anything in the world to hang out with you more often than he got too, and people gave that up for free? The thought was absolutely ridiculous.

You chuckled quietly at that, smiling softly. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. I mean,” he paused, looking up at you like that was the most absurd thing in the entire world. He had a small flush on his face, no doubt questioning what he was going to say. “I mean, you’re such a nice person. And I think that hanging around you is comforting.”

“And I think that you’re rather sweet.” you chuckled, looking at him with a soft smile.

“I’m being serious!” Mattheo said, looking you in the eyes. You hadn’t heard him talk this much in the entire time that you had been working with him, and you especially didn’t expect it to be him defending you. “You’re just, like, you. Which is really sweet, you know? I really like you and your whimsy, or whatever they try to call you.”

You giggled again, smiling softly at him as you scooted a bit closer. “You’re rather nice yourself, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, his voice raising a pitch as he looked at the potion. “Do we need to test this?”

“I think so.” she nodded. “Do you want to do it?”

Mattheo looked at the potion, a small frown coming on her face. If anything went wrong with the podcast, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt by it. Which led to him nodding, the best option for him obviously being him taking the potion himself. 

“I’ll bottle it for you.” you said, grabbing the small ladle and pouring it inside the potion vial. “Here, one vial of Liquid Luck for you.”

Mattheo smiled softly as he took a sniff of it. “Is it meant to smell like something?”

“No, just air. I mean, clean air. Not like toxic air or anything.” you said, before ending your small speel. “It doesn’t smell like anything.”

Mattheo nodded again, taking a swig of it before coughing. “That’s definitely hot.”

“It did just come off the cauldron.” you chuckled, fingers fidgeting slightly. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mattheo looked up at you with a look you could only describe as a lovesick puppy, a small flush covering his face as he admired you. You could only assume the amount of thoughts running through his mind were plenty, some very hard to sort through. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he looked at you. “Very lucky.”

You chuckled softly at that, your face flushing as you watched his eyes lock onto your lips. “Do I have something on my lips or something?”

“No,” he whispered softly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he spoke. “No, I just,”

“Something on my teeth?” you asked, shining your teeth to him.

“I want to kiss you.” he whispered. 

Your mouth closed again as you heard that, eyes locking onto his after he spoke. That didn’t last long though, as his eyes focused back on your lips again. “You what?”

“I want to kiss you.” he said a bit more clearly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. But I really want to kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.” you whispered softly to him, scooting a bit closer to him in return. 

Mattheo blinked for a couple of seconds, the shock of your answer plastered on his face. It filled you with a small sense of confidence, the blush on his face fueling your own. “I can?”

“You can.” you smiled.

Mattheo smiled brightly at that, the burn of it brighter than the sun sucking his lips in like a blackhole would. His lips immediately met yours, burning like fireworks against his skin. It was absolute bliss to him, burning through his skin and turning him into nothing but lovesick ash.

“Your lips are absolutely perfect, my love.” he whispered, his eyes boring into yours with a gaze full of adoration. “So perfect.”

“Was your luck to try and kiss me, Riddle?” you chuckled softly at him. 

“This is the luckiest moment of my life.” he whispered. 

“Theo!” Mattheo spat out, opening the dorm room door as he stormed in. His palms looked sweaty, and his face was absolutely covered in a bright blush. 

“Mattheo.” Theo said his name back, closing his book as he looked at where Mattheo had stormed in. He looked absolutely wrecked, almost drenched in sweat. “You look like you just got your ass kicked on the Quidditch field.”

“I just,” he whispered, walking closer to Theo as he paced around the room. “I just kissed her.”

“Y/N?” Theo asked, a small smile crossing her face. “You kissed her?”

“It was so perfect.” he whispered, laying down on Theo’s bed. “Like, it was like her lips had a magnetic pull on me. I couldn’t stop for the next hour. A whole hour!”

“That’s wild, mate.” he chuckled softly, patting Mattheo on the head.

“It was just perfect,” he whispered under his breath, sighing softly. “Like, I don’t know how else to describe it. Maybe like looking at a supernova for the first time.”

“You are down bad, Mattheo.” he chuckled softly at that, continuing to pat his friend on the head.

“And then we, after that right?” he said, the smile on his face only growing larger. “We snuck off to this broom closet. You know the ones. And we did, we had,” he paused, sighing in frustration as his words jumbled in his head. “You know?”

“I know.” Theo chuckled.

“I have a song idea again.” Mattheo said, sitting up again as he rushed to the journal he kept so dearly to his heart. “I will be dead to the world for the next few hours.”

“You want me to go tell Y/N that, lover boy?” Theo smirked.

“She can come in whenever.” Mattheo said, dipping his quill in black ink. “I already gave her our dormitory password.”

“You what?”

���I have a present for you.” Mattheo whispered under his breath, a small smile on his face as he walked towards you.

It was the 6 month anniversary of one of the happiest relationships you had ever been in. There was communication and there was love. Small dates near the Black Lake at midnight, with breakfast you stole from the Great Hall earlier. Times where he’d take you into town and let you dress up however you wanted, all on the cards he stole from Malfoy. Or small get-togethers like this, hangouts at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

And the presents were always lovely. Small poems that he wrote for you, or love letters that he hand wrapped himself. A small blush or dress you had been eyeing for more than two seconds, or room decor that went with your forever indecisive aesthetics. 

“You do?” you giggled softly, gasping softly as he pulled out a small guitar. “A song?”

“I’ve written a couple for you,” he whispered. “And I wanted to sing them to you. For our anniversary.”

“I love you.” you giggled, smiling as he sat down.

He cleared his throat as he made sure the guitar was in tune, strumming a few chords before eventually developing a melody. It seemed almost hypnotic the way his hands moved, his voice humming along as he figured out the rhythm.

“Yesterday, I was a word. Left with no voice to speak it,” he hummed softly, his voice and the guitar both vibrating through the walls. You smiled brightly as you heard his voice, not realizing how pretty his voice actually sounded.

“Now I am a happy song, placed on the lips of a woman.” he sang, winking at you. He continued for a few lines, a small smirk growing on his lips as he got to the instrumental part.

“What are you going to sing next?” you asked, watching him giggle softly. “Seriously!”

“Patience,” he whispered, chuckling as he strung the melody again, his eyes darting down at the guitar. “Now she has me, under her skirt,”

“Mattheo!” you flushed, slapping his arm and breaking the rhythm of his song. “My skirt?”

The both of you burst out into a laugh at that, the sound breaking through the cold night air that breezed through the alcove you sat in. Or maybe you just felt warm in his presence, a constant feeling of love rushing through your body.

“Can I finish my song now?” he smirked.

“I suppose you could.” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as he continued to sing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

my second post oh my GOD this one took a hot minute to get through. beta-reading and proof reading is definitely not my jam, and there's definitely things that i missed in this. but i hope it still works out well, especially the whole lovesick angle i was going for. if you guys haven't already, please please please go check out tamino's music. it is actually so. good. if you listen to hozier or adrianne lenker, i think you'd really like his songs (my favorites are the first disciple and habibi)

as always, please like, comment, and reblog! it really helps out, and i really appreciate everyone who does! if you guys have any requests or something you can request in the ask box!

[sugawhaaa]

°☆---SMUT SKZ REACTION---☆°

°☆~Walking in on the two of you having sex~☆°

Warnings/genre::SMUT, rough sex (Minho, Jeongin, Changbin,) BDSM (Felix) sex toys, (Felix) degradation, (minho) oral, (hyunjin, seungmin) fingering (seungmin) I think that's it 🧍🏻‍♀️

Pairing:: ot8!skz x fem!reader

A/N:: skz phase is back guys... sorry not sorry 😁 also this fanfic has me bashing my head against the wall I love it sm

Bangchan

Channie had you sitting on top of him while his hands rested at your hips, guiding you up and down his cock. The two of you had been going at it for a hot minute so this final round was quite weak. Bangchans hair was sweaty and his lips were chapped from heavy breathing. You didn't look in any better shape.

Channie swished your hair all to one side to see your beautiful face. He rubbed your bottom lip before praising you "just a bit longer babe, you're doing so good,"

That's when the door opened to Changbin. He froze for a moment as channie went to cover your body, protecting your privacy rather than his own. Bangchan gave changbin a look that said "bitch what do you want?" And changbin cleared his throat.

"S-Sorry just wanted to say Jisung door dashed some Chopchae but...I see you're busy," he closed over the door before saying "Have fun," and the door latched. Chan sighed and wiped down his face.

"Where were we?"

Minho

"You like that hm? When I call you a slut?" Lee know had you bent over the edge of the bed with your hands chained up to the bedframe left completely helpless as he pounded you from behind.

"Y-Yes," you pant out as you feel drool building up in your mouth that you can't wipe away. You squint your eyes shut as your head spins with pleasure. Minho starts thrusting faster, the room filling with the sound of his hips slapping against your ass harshly and the bed creaking for help. There was a light knock on the door and the two of you pause. The door opens to Jisung who is smiling and...innocent. Moments before being scarred for life.

"I bought some pudding for us toni-" Han pauses and his jaw drops. Minho grabs a bottle of lube and throws it at him. "Ah Jesus! It was an accident!" Jisung blocks his face as the lube comes flying at him.

"Then get out!" Minho yells and Jisung scurries away and closes the door. Minho sighs softly before adding to his comment. "And don't you dare tell me you saw Y/N like this!" He shouts before huffing. You felt kind of bad for jisung so you made a light hearted comment.

"At least he knocked"

Changbin

Changbin was always a fan of aggressive sex, not all the time, but he did like it when the two of you indulged in it. Tonight he had you on your knees, originally doggy style, and he held your arms back as he pounded into you from behind. Your cries and moans pierced through the walls as he gripped your wrists tightly. He then let go of one wrist to hold your throat and tilt your head up, showcasing his control over you.

"I'm close," you cry out in a hoarse voice and Changbin grins before doubling his efforts. His hand went from your throat to your hair and pulled your head back that way. You could feel yourself drooling but you didn't bother to clean yourself up.

That's when your greatest fear came to life. The door opened to a tired Jeongin with his skincare still on and his headband throwing back his spikey hair. His eyes then widened as Changbin froze. You ducked down and buried your face in the blankets.

"Oh shit," Jeongin covered the view with his hand as his face burnt red, his ears a bright red. "Sorry, I didn't see anything," he stumbled backward, his eyes shut, before closing the doors. You sigh before groaning into the bed sheets. Changbin pats your back comfortingly. You couldn't believe Jeongin saw you in such a state...

Hyunjin

Hyunjin sat you at the edge of the bed and went on his knees. He had your legs parted with his head sandwiched in between your thighs eating you out. Your moans were soft and quiet, surprisingly, but the room was filled with set and sloppy sounds. The overhead light was off so the only source of light was the lamp on your nightstand.

As hyunjin noticed your body tensing and your legs shaking he began to trace feather light circles on your leg, adding an extra bit of sensual contact. He moaned against your core softly as your orgasm hit. You threw your head back as your breath shook with pleasure. Hyunjin drank up every last drop of your arousal, poking his tongue between the tight folds and sucking the cum out of your pussy.

That's when the door opened. Felix stood in the doorway, at first not noticing the situation he walked into, before realizing you were completely naked. "Oh shit-" he put a hand over your body from his POV. Hyunjin turned around, cum dripping from his lips and he froze. He didn't want his friend to see him or you in this situation.

Hyunjin covered his mouth partially from shock and partially to cover the evidence of your "fun". Felix rushed out of the room and closed the door behind him before shouting "sorry!" And fleeing down the hall.

Felix

Felix can be somewhat intimidating during sex, a side that only you get to see and cherish. He's usually very gentle with his precious angel, you, but every now and then you plead him to treat you like an object, a toy, or one would say a slut. Tonight was one of those nights.

Felix had you awkwardly tied up on the bed, on your knees with your arms up and attached to a chain hooked to the ceiling and a vibrator between your legs. He sat behind you and occasionally played with your breasts, nibbled your back, or fingered your clit. Currently he was groping you as you whined and squirmed against the vibrator.

"Just a little bit more," he rasped into your ear as he flicked and fingered your nipples. Just as your release began to pile up the door swung open to Seungmin, innocently expecting Yongbok on his phone or ps5. His jaw instantly dropped before turning into a look mixed with disappointment and disgust.

Meanwhile you and Felix were flustered as all hell, you were still on the verge of cumming and basically helpless when tied up like this and Felix straight up froze. Seungmin left without saying a word and closed the door. You curse loudly as you cum and throw your head back but Felix is still frozen.

"Can you turn this vibrator off before I fall apart?" you whimper and Felix blushes.

"S-Sorry, yeah,"

Jisung

Han always holds you close when you have sex, skin ship is meaningful to him. He currently has you laid back, in missionary position, while he leans down to basically hug your body while he fucks you. Tonight was a night of lazy yet romantic sex. It wasn't about going fast or teasing it was just about experiencing pleasure with each other.

The two of you were surprisingly quiet for once, in the sense you weren't talking dirty to each other, the room filled with soft sighs and little groans. "You're so beautiful baby," Han groans into your ear as he begins to lose himself in you. You bring your hands up to claw at his sweaty back as your climaxes start to build.

Jisung bites down on your neck to quiet his moans and you let out a cry of pleasure and the door opens. Straight faced minho holding a grocery bag. You and Han freeze and look at Lee know surprised. "I got pudding...it's here if you guys want some when you're done," he gestures to the bag and leaves, closing the door behind himself. You and Han look at each other before laughing softly.

"He's so weird," you chuckle as you smile up at jisung. Han blushes and nods, his sweaty bangs falling into his face.

"He's always like that...pudding does sound nice after this though..."

Seungmin

Seungmin held your legs open wide as he licked circles around your folds, his finger flicking your G-spot teasingly at the same time. Seungmin is always such a tease, especially with foreplay and today it was driving you mad. "Please seungmin~" you whine as you pout down at him but your pleas have no effect on him. "Please!" You whine again and he shoves two fingers deep inside you.

You cry out as your body jerks forward.

"Stop whining," he growls and you whine as you throw your head back. His fingers steadily thrusted in and out of your tight wet folds as you fight the urge to squirm and wiggle around in pleasure. "Good girl," he smirks in a cold tone. Suddenly there's a knock on the door and you don't even know how to react but Seungmin doesn't stop his fingers.

You cry out in pleasure as Hyunjin opens the door. Seungmins rhythm never faltered even after Hyunjin was witnessing the scene.

"Go damn, okay, I'm leaving," hyunjin uses his hand to cover your body from his view as Seungmin glares at him. Hyunjin leaves in a hurry just as your orgasm hits. You claw at the sheets and let out a loud groan of pleasure, your legs shaking. Seungmin gently plays with your pussy to extend your orgasm and when you're finally finished you stare at him.

"Why didn't you stop?"

"You were close to cumming, an unwanted guest doesn't effect my performance baby,"

Jeongin

Jeongin is always such an interesting character in bed, very unpredictable. Tonight he decided that he wanted pussy right then and there and I mean, why wouldn't you comply? You ended up being folded underneath him with your legs on his shoulders, his cock effortlessly sliding in and out of you due to the build-up of arousal from your previous fun.

Your arms were wrapped around his back and clawing at his skin and hair. "Please Jeongin!" You cry out in pleasure as your head spins, and your eyes begin to water with desperation. You had been pushed so close to the edge countless times that now you couldn't even function like a normal human being; only a slut. There was then a knock on the door. Jeongin didn't even know how to react when the door began to open.

Bangchan stood in the door with bright smile before his jaw dropped. "Oh my bad," he laughs softly; jeongin lifts you up closer to him to cover your body from Chans view.

"Hyung get out!" He whines loudly, his dominant and rough facade fading due to the audience.

"of course, keep having fun," he smiles as he begins to close the door. "Oh and if you want those marks to go away faster I have some lotion that-"

"Get out!"

[ihrthoney]

you know me

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff! some mentions of what happened to him in the asylum

word count: 1.9k

an: i hope you guys like it 😅 part 1

Jason had told you he would disappear for a few days, he said he would explain when he came back and until then to quit your job and not leave your house. Before leaving, he gave you a device and told you he would beep it three times to signal you that he was outside of your apartment. 

The night he held you was the only time he had let you so close to him. When you parted to wash your face, he made it clear he wanted to keep a distance between you two. Whenever you walked towards him he would take a step backwards, it stung but you can understand why, the mark on his face was a sign that whatever happened to him was bad. 

The last thing he told you before returning to the shadows was to start packing. Your mind told you he wasn’t the same and that you should be asking questions instead of blindly following him. Yet, the only thing you’ve ever wanted for the past few years was him. Nothing was going to stop you from following him, not even him. 

-

Meanwhile, Jason was at a loss on what to do. Seeing you brought back fond and awful memories. His memory was tainted with the bad things that have happened to him, his childhood, the in-between and the after. But you, you were like a firefly in the quiet meadow, a temporary relief before the world burned around him.

He had been questioning what he should do with you, where his feelings for you still lie. As of right now, he just wants to keep you safe. There’s a battle in his mind, he can’t decide whether he’s happy that you stayed and waited for him or if he should call you foolish for not getting out of Gotham, for putting yourself in danger. The former thought is winning, his heart thumps at the thought of still being remembered as Jason and not the failed robin.

Memories of your time together flash in his mind as he makes his way back to your place; he recognizes the apartment, it’s the one you two planned to move into. You were the one thing he wouldn’t let anyone touch, not then and definitely not now. He can’t ever be the person you so wholly loved but he wants to be someone you can learn to love. 

There are a lot of risks with that, you’d be a constant target, he’d have to either go with you anytime you went in public or simply have whatever you wanted delivered by someone else. The life you had before will be no more, he’s selfish but he hopes you don’t mind.

-

It’s about 3am in the morning when you hear the device beep, you respond back with the code he gave you then go to your window to open it for him (you have a feeling he could open it just fine.)

The night he was in your apartment, he was in all black clothes, now he’s in front of you covered head to toe in thick armor. The suit makes your window seem so fragile, the living room looks much smaller too. 

He clicks his helmet off and gently sets it on the floor, “Are you ready to go?” You can’t tell whether it’s a question or a statement but by the way he’s looking at you, you’re going to guess he’s telling you. 

“Am I allowed to ask where?” He follows you as you check the place for any belongings you may have missed, his heavy footsteps follow you, even in the armor he’s quiet. “A safehouse. Somewhere outside of the city.” After making your rounds, sad you two couldn’t occupy the space, you turn to face him, “Will you be there too?”

The question catches him off-guard, unused to being thought of. Despite the hardness to his eyes, how tense his posture is, the way he speaks to you was like before, gentle and soft. Under all the pain, he was a sweet boy.

To you, he will always be your sweet boy.

“Of course.”

-

Given the time, you fell asleep in the car, waking up in your bed but a different room. It takes a bit to remember the events that have happened. Moving the blankets off of you, you make your way around the safehouse. The layout is similar to your old apartment, it’s comforting but makes you question how he was able to find a place with the same format. 

A click of a door makes you turn and you see Jason in the clothes you saw him in the night he visited you, “I got you some food, we should talk.” 

He places down multiple containers with different food’s inside and a large cup of coffee from your favorite cafe. He remembered. Jason makes his way to sit across from you, a breakfast serving only for one so you ask to which he replies that he already ate. 

Still, like before, you offer him a plate of a little bit of everything in case he’s hungry again or lying about his eating habits. You’re careful to not treat him like nothing happened but not as a stranger either, it’s a strange middle you’re still trying to understand.

“We’ll talk after you eat.” He doesn’t touch the food you offered him but you hope the thought reaches him all the same. There’s a part of you that hopes your boyfriend is still there considering that you were tucked in bed in a new change of clothes, but he keeps you more than an arm’s length away. 

It should be uncomfortable, the way he watches you eat, the man before you is bigger, face sharper, still handsome. His eyes never left you even as you moved to put any leftovers away. Grabbing him a glass of water, you sat in front of him once again. 

“What would you like to know first?” As quick as the movement was, you saw the way his gaze flickered to the side then back up, “Anything you’re comfortable with telling me.”

The ache in his chest comes back, you were his sweetness, you still are and it hurts him to be near you. You were all he dreamed about, amongst other things, when he was trapped in that wing. Words can't explain how relieved he was that the Joker could not touch you or taint your image, you were so dear to him. 

“I followed.. him.. to Arkham’s Asylum, specifically an abandoned wing.” His beautiful eyes no longer looked into your own, instead focusing on the way your fingers fidget, “For almost two years I was tortured.. tied to a chair, hung up by the arms.. I know you saw the scar. There are things I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say out loud… I just wanted him to kill me.”

There’s a pause before he continues, “For months I waited for Batman, I refused to believe he forgot about me, that he replaced me but when I saw that picture.” Silence envelopes the room, it’s thick and he doesn’t say anything for a while, you also knew better than to say anything about how bad Batman’s grief actually was.

Your hand moves to hold his, to comfort him in any way but you’re afraid to push him into silence, but your hesitation is for naught as he grabs your hand and interlinks your fingers together, quietly he says, “I dreamt of you.” The words make you move your gaze from your intertwined hands to his eyes. 

“I missed you so much, yn.” His voice cracks and he looks away, Jason tries to pull his hand from yours but you squeeze them tighter together, “I thought about you every single day, Jace. Not a second went by when I wasn’t thinking of you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I’m not the same person.” Quickly you replied, standing up from the chair and moving to his side of the table, “I don’t expect you to be, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” It seems to be the wrong answer as he stands from the chair and creates space between you two, arms crossing against his chest, “It should! I can’t- We can’t be together, there’s no point!”

It’s a lie, he’s lying, he can’t accept that you love him like it’s easy, like his whole existence isn’t filthy. This was bad, he shouldn't have seen you, “I’m not sorry that I love you, I never will be. I don’t care that you’ve changed, you are still the most important person to me! I will do anything for you.” Your voice is soft but stern, you need him to hear you. 

As much as you want to, you don’t approach him, you’re just happy he opened up to you at all. There’s obviously more than happened to him, more than just physical abuse. You have to be smart and careful not to treat him like he’s fragile because your Jason is anything but. He’s the strongest person you know and you’re here to help him feel loved and supported. 

Blue eyes analyze your body language, watching your chest move, the way your fingers slightly shake, “Why.. Why do you still love me?” His knees give out and he falls to the floor, you’re quick to move towards him in case he falls completely, so you opt to sit just a couple steps away. 

“How can I not love you? Even if you hadn’t come back I would have still loved you. You are my lifeline Jason.” You’ve never been a liar, not once had he ever doubted you, even now, as different as he looks you still followed his every word. Not once did you care to think he would have poisoned your food or this safehouse itself could have been a trap; Yet you followed him anyway. Why?

“You can’t possibly look at me and still love it.” Jason can barely stand to look at his own reflection, it’s starting to frustrate him that you supposedly see past the scars and accept him. It can’t be that easy, it shouldn’t be.

He doesn’t realize he said the last thing out loud, “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, Jaybee.” A scoff falls from his lips at the nickname, and if you didn’t know him any better you would’ve missed the teeny tiny smile that appeared on his lips. 

“Whatever is running through that head of yours, I’m going to need you to tell me, okay? Maybe not now, or tomorrow or even the day after that but I’m always going to be here for you in any way that I can. I have all the time in the world with you around, I promised you then and I promise you now, I will always be right by your side.” 

The ache in his chest is back, he feels his heart beating so fast, without thinking much he reaches towards you and holds you to his chest like the night he first saw you again. Only this time he cradled your body so close to his own, you were sideways which meant you got to hear the pounding of his heart. His hands weaved through your hair and if you felt his tears drip onto your hair you ignored it. 

You can learn to love him just as you did before. 

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

taglist for those who commented :) @fanficwritersworld @jasonsbaby @princessesgarden @anime-potato-san @ravensandmysterae

[asharasasylum]

But I'm a Creep

♡  Kidnapper! Choso x reader

author's note: I'm an idiot and accidentally deleted this so now I'm having to repost it. warnings: non con. dub con. kidnapping. tied up reader. sub choso. smut. gagged reader. 18+ MDNI

You whined as he wrapped his mouth around your abused nipple, tears spilling from your eyes at the painful sensation. It had been pleasurable at first, about an hour ago when you awoke to him fondling you but now your nipples were sore and tired from the constant sucking and licking being inflicted on you from your kidnapper. 

Kidnapper. The man that had abducted you. Someone that you barely really knew except from passing encounters at work. 

Choso Kamo was the last person you had expected this from. 

So he was a bit strange according to your co-workers. And there were a few rumours that you had heard about him through mutual friends. But you chalked it all up to him just being a little different, a bit of an introvert compared to yourself. 

From the moment he was hired five months ago, Choso had been a hard nut to crack. He barely talked, only offering you a small head nod as he strolled into the store. He preferred to keep himself to the stock room rather than help out front. It wasn’t till you had seen some girls from campus clearly staring and giggling at him a few weeks into the job, that you actually had your first proper interaction with him. 

The girls were being cruel, you could see in the way they stuck up their noses and eyed him out of the corner of their eyes. All while Choso was simply trying to fix one of the display stands. 

He clearly noticed them, fingers trembling as he fiddled with the stack of DVDs in his hand. But you could tell he was just trying to ignore them, hoping they’d possibly get bored and walk away. 

You couldn’t just ignore them, not when your blood boiled at the mere sight of what they were doing. Before you even realised it, you were standing in front of them, blocking their vision of Choso with a tight smile spread across your face. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, eyes flickering between each of the girls. 

They grew quiet, amusement dropping from their faces as they looked between each other. 

“Well if you couldn’t find everything today, I do apologise. But we are closing for the day.” You motioned to the door with a pointed glare. 

They all scrambled out of the store, muttering things under their breath that you didn’t care to hear before you turned to Choso. 

You crouched down to where he was still fumbling with the DVDs, noticing the tinge of pink that covered the tops of his ears. 

“You okay?” You asked, reaching out to place your hand on top of his. 

He snatched his hand away, finally turning to you with a flushed face. 

“Sorry.” You smiled at him, taking your hand back. 

“I-I’m fine,” he nervously laughed, nodding his head. 

“Did you know them?” 

“Uh-them?” He pointed to where the girls had been standing and you nodded. “Um-no. I-I guess maybe in passing.” He swallowed, eyes meeting yours for a second before flickering away.

“They’re dicks,” you told him, hoping to lighten the mood. “Best to just ignore them.” 

“Y-yeah,” he agreed, before returning to what he had previously been doing. 

You hadn’t really expected a change in your relationship after that but Choso seemed to warm to you. But the next day, he actually spoke your name, greeting you with a small smile before he went into the back. 

You and Choso had small interactions after that, but nothing that would make you think he would do this. 

The guy could barely speak two words to you last week. His eyes barely ever directly looked into yours and he nervously stuttered every time you thanked him over a simple task. The only conversations you had consisted of two words from him so to think he could do this? That he had harboured some sort of crush on you. 

The possibility had never crossed your mind. It only seemed reality as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, licking at the subtle skin he had spent time marking up. 

It was only hours ago he had offered you a lift home from work and now you had found yourself with your wrists tied to his bed, completely naked underneath him. 

“Please,” he whimpered, sucking at the skin of your neck. “I need you so bad.” 

You barely registered what he was saying, too focused on the way his fingers were sliding over your soaked folds. He clearly knew what he was doing, making you a wet fucked out mess before you’d even been able to cum. It had you wondering if he had been with a girl before, if the way he acted in the store with you had all just been some sort of act. 

The thought was pushed away as soon as he whimpered again, pressing his wet cheeks into your neck. “I need you to need me,” he said, almost on the verge of sobbing. “Y/N.” 

The mere mention of your name had you peeling your eyes open, only to find yourself fighting off shutting them again when his fingers pressed into your clit. You hissed at the sensation, trying to bite down the noises that were stirring in the back of your throat. But it was near impossible when his fingers prodded at your entrance, threatening to force them into your walls. 

You tried to protest against him but your screams were muffled through the cloth placed between your lips and with your hands tied there was nothing you could do. 

Your toes curled when he forced two fingers into his entrance and even though you cried against the cloth, you knew he could feel your walls sucking him in. Especially when you felt him smile against your skin, lifting his head so he could look at you. 

“You like this,” he questioned, curling his fingers inside of you, eager for a reaction. “Got to tell me, baby.” 

The moan was lost in your throat and even though your pussy was leaking all over him, the confirmation clearly wasn’t enough. 

It was only when another noise of you was strangled between the cloth did he poke at it, knitting his brows together as he asked, “Need me to take this out for you?” 

You nodded frantically, practically begging him. 

“You can’t scream.” He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly questioning whether it was a good idea or not. “Sukuna said I shouldn’t.” 

You knew that name, his older brother, you remembered. He was the one that had got Choso a job in the first place. You hadn’t met him, he had left the store long before you started but to think he knew you were in here and he didn’t care. It was sickening. 

“It’ll be better for you if you don’t try and scream. I don’t know what he’ll make me do to you if you do.” There was an uneasiness to his tone as if he was scared at the possibility and you hated the idea that Choso could do something worse to you. “Do you understand?” 

You gave him a small nod, hoping that would be enough for him. 

Thankfully it was, feeling his fingers pull at the cloth he had jammed in your mouth until it was all the way out. 

He watched you cautiously as he did so, waiting with his hand against your cheek in case you did try to scream. You didn’t though and you weren’t sure who it took more by surprise, you or the man hovering above you. 

“You okay?” 

It felt genuine the way he asked you, wide wet eyes looking down at you with some sort of concern. You couldn’t understand it and you weren’t sure if you really wanted to.

You gave him the faintest of nods, too fearful not to answer him with the way he stared at you, like he was desperate for an answer. 

It was only when his fingers delved deeper into you, did you realise what you unknowingly agreed to. You couldn’t help but moan as he slipped a third finger in, clawing at the restraints that bound your hands together. With each drag of his fingers against your spongy walls you felt the lines of consent begin to blur. 

He had brought you here against your own will, you reminded yourself. But had there been something that you did that eluded him to the idea that you wanted to be here? That this was right?

Choso wasn’t like the other guys at work, the horn dogs that drooled over anything with two legs and a hole they could slip it into. You could see it in the way he watched you now, his gaze darkening, the brown iris barely visible with how badly his eyes dilated. His lips parted and all that seemed to escape him were shallow breaths, as if he was enjoying this more than you. Like he was simply getting off on seeing you overcome with pleasure. 

Your body trembled at the idea of it, terrified and almost… excited? You couldn’t deny how close you were teetering towards your oncoming orgasm. Yet you were still fearful of the man on top of you, not entirely sure what he could be gaining out of this. 

“You want this,” he hummed, bringing his lips to rest against yours. “Don’t you?” 

You couldn’t deny him, not with how his eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to spill against your skin. So you agreed once more, lips moving against his as you squeaked out a small, “Yes.” 

He grinned at that, nudging his nose against yours as he connected your lips into a needy kiss. 

You whined into it, feeling his thumb circle your sensitive clit. You clenched around him instinctively, feeling your hips buck into him for more in which he was eager to give you. He didn’t waste any time, pressing his thumb into you while his fingers thrusted and curled into you, nudging against a sweet spot that had you moaning into his mouth. 

You were overly glad for his lips pressed to yours when you came, muffling the screams of pleasure that tore through your throat. Your thighs clamped around him, trying to push him away rather than keep him in. But Choso was an immovable object and you knew you just needed to come to terms with that. 

“Choso,” you yelped, squirming underneath him. 

His eyes widened at that, worried that you might begin to scream for release. 

You didn’t though but instead, breathlessly pleaded with him to stop. “Please, no more.” 

“I’m sorry,” he hushed you, pressing feather light kisses to your face as he distracted you from pulling his fingers from your walls. “You’re okay.” 

You weren’t entirely in agreement with that, feeling your walls still flutter with the after effects of the long awaited orgasm. But you were in no state to fight him on the matter either.

“You’re okay, right?” He lifted his face to look over you with that sad puppy look.

“I’m okay,” you told him, between a shaky breath. 

He seemed happy with your response, bringing his lips against yours once again. This kiss was sticky and desperate, Choso’s tongue sinking into your mouth as he explored it. He whined when you didn’t reciprocate, moving his tongue so deep into your mouth that you had to push it away with your own, or you’d choke on it. 

It had him smiling, your tongue finally moving against his even if it was in an attempt to fight back. He didn’t seem to care, or maybe he just didn’t realise, living in some sort of delusion that this was completely consensual, that this was what you wanted. 

He was eager for your confirmation, you finally realised. Desperate for it. 

“Choso,” you whispered, breaking free from the kiss as you twisted your head away. “Choso, can you-” You stopped yourself, turning to his face with a small pout. 

“Anything,” he responded, without even hearing the full question. 

“My hands.” You wiggled them underneath you, pressing your lips together as you jutted out your bottom lip. “They hurt.” You swallowed and whined, “Please.” 

He nodded, hands reaching over you to fumble with your restraints that had you tied to his bed. It only took a few seconds before your wrists were freed and you could pull your hands back to your side. It also wasn’t long before you began to use your new found freedom to slip away, only to be caught instantly with a hand wrapped around your wrist. 

You winced as Choso applied pressure to the fresh bruises, and yanked you back underneath him. 

“Try that again and I’ll have to tie you up again,” he warned, jaw clenching as he glared down at you. He quickly dropped his glare, eyes softening at you as he tried to mask his anger. But it was still there, you could see it in his rigid form that kneeled over yours. “I don’t want to hurt you. You're the last person I want to hurt, Y/N.” 

A chill ran over you as he ran a finger over your cheek, sliding it down your neck as his eyes followed the movement. He stopped once he reached your breast, swallowing at the sight of the abused flesh and licking his lips. 

“Please, don’t do that again.” His eyes flew back up to yours, his jaw tightening as he waited for your response. 

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, feeling unnerved by the way he stared at you. “I promise.” 

Relief seemed to wash over him, his body relaxing once again as his eyes fell downwards. “Good, good.” He licked his lips, cheeks darkening to red at the sight of something. 

You followed his gaze, widening at the sight of him in his boxers. The material clung to him, his bulge and the wet patch practically staring at you. You were so stuck on the sight of him, you barely noticed his hand dragging yours towards him, not until he was slipping it inside the article of clothing with a sigh. 

It was a sticky mess inside, cum coating your fingers before your hand found his cock. You weren’t really thinking, gripping it slightly in your hand as if you were entranced by it. You moved your hand over it, dragging it up and letting your fingers slide over the tip. It was only when he gasped at the touch, did you snap back to reality, snatching your hand back. 

You held it in front of you, slightly amazed at the sight of the cum that coated your fingers. Had he been touching himself this whole time? It wasn’t possible, both hands had been at you the whole time. But surely– 

“I know I shouldn’t have,” he said, eyes flickering towards your gaze. “Not before you anyway but-” His body folded over yours again, till you could feel his leaking cock touching your leg, the piece of clothing over it doing nothing to hide it. “-you don’t get how you make me feel. It just happened.” 

You swallowed at that, watching him as he leaned further into you. You knew what was going to happen and even though you knew some part of you wanted to fight against it, there was another sicker part that thought it’d be easier to succumb to it instead. That part had you widening your legs, making more space for him as he pressed his body against yours. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, I swear,” he whispered, rutting his hips against yours. “I promise.” You bit back a moan as he repeated his actions, feeling his bulge rub against your overly sensitive clit. “Make you feel good.”

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stopped, eyes meeting yours again as if he didn’t quite hear you. 

You weren’t even sure you could quite hear what you were saying either, the words didn’t even feel like your own as they fell from your tongue. “Make me feel good then.” 

You had no time to act when Choso descended upon you, slipping his boxers down all while he kissed you. It was your turn to whine when you felt his cock slide against your folds, hissing into him as it ran over your clit. He seemed so content in just doing this, rubbing his cock between your folds as he mixed your juices with his. You were sure if you didn’t say anything he’d cum like this and be done with it, or feel the need to still take you again. 

“Choso,” you called, sliding your hand between your bodies. You found his cock, hard and wanting, finally grabbing his attention. “Inside me.” His eyes snapped towards yours. “I want it inside me.” 

His eyes widened as he withdrew from your lips, swallowing nervously as he peeled himself off of you slightly. 

“Choso?” You knitted your brows together, looking up at his flushed face. 

“I-uh-” he shifted, blinking as he looked down again. 

“It’s okay.” You comforted him, sliding his cock against yourself until you lined his tip up with your entrance. “Just push it in.” You guided him, bringing your hips up a bit so he partially slid in. “Like this.” 

Choso followed, pushing his hips into yours, groaning as he filled you to the hilt. Once he was all the way in, there was no stopping him. He was suddenly hooked on the feeling of being inside you, thrusting his hips back and forth continuously. He was so lost in it, sinking his face into your neck with such a deep whimper that you weren’t entirely sure you’d be able to break him from it. 

All you could do was take it and take it you did. 

You matched his moans with your own, wrapping your legs around him as he fucked you into the mattress. There was no denying it, everything felt right with Choso inside of you. You felt full to the brim. Your walls snugly wrapped around him, squeezing him, begging for more. 

“Feels so good,” he whispered into your ear, licking the shell of it. “I want to go deeper. Deeper.” 

You weren’t completely sure what he was talking about until his hands brought your legs up, folding them between your bodies. 

Oh deeper.

You swore you could feel him in your stomach at the angle, and the sensation had you mewling out his name. 

You weren’t at all surprised at how fast both of you were brought to the edge. You could feel your brain turning into mush at how well his cock was rutting itself in and out of you and you could feel Choso tightening his grip onto you, as his pace began to pick up. 

“So good.” He repeated the phrase over and over again, the sound of his moans vibrating through you as he did so. So good. Until your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt yourself gushing all over him, your orgasm washing over you. So good. Until he was spilling inside of you, gasping at the feel of your walls milking him for all he had to offer. 

You were spent after that, the aftershocks still coursing through your body as he slowed himself to a stop. You weren’t even surprised when he didn’t pull himself out of you, collapsing on top of you and keeping himself buried inside you instead. He seemed satisfied— sedated as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck with a deep sigh. 

He seemed so content, body fully relaxed on top of yours that you didn’t want to break him away from it. But as you came back to the reality of your situation, you found yourself needing to say something, only too scared to break the silence you both rested in. 

Luckily for you, it wasn’t your words that broke the silence but a sudden knocking on Choso’s bedroom door, followed by a voice you could only imagine was Choso’s older brother. 

“Kid is out for another hour before you both need to shut up.” 

Choso didn’t seem to react, only sighing as he kissed your subtle skin. 

You parted your lips to speak, but you stopped yourself realising it might be better not to know. Not to understand. 

Instead you closed your eyes, sinking into his touch as he began to lick at the column of your neck and trace his fingers into your sides. You didn’t know what was going to happen after this but for a moment you were too tired to care. You just assumed you’d have to let him decide. 

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> speed isn't all that matters

word count: 1.6k TW: slightlycold!wonwoo, tiny sliver of angst (we're getting there!), overworking, passing out, FLUFF, comfort italics are interview moments cut between other scenes a/n: second htr! we're starting that landslide into the angst (ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ ) they are so cute in this omgomgomg

Wonwoo sat awkwardly on the pedestal, doing his best to balance while still posing for the camera.

"We had a lot of photoshoots and interviews while touring in Japan." Wonwoo explained to the camera. "Feels like we were posing for photos everywhere."

Wonwoo stood up once the photographer had finished his series of shots. He was tired and couldn't wait to get back to the hotel.

"Wait a moment, Wonwoo." Their manager called out to stop him. "They want a couple shots of you and Cyana."

Wonwoo sighed, nodding as he reluctantly returned to his seat. Cyana walked over, bowing politely to the staff. She stood awkwardly next to Wonwoo, a clear gap between them as she waited for instructions.

"Cyana-yah, can you stand behind Wonwoo?" Their translator smiled kindly as she directed the girl. "Wrap your arms around his shoulders, yes- that's good."

Wonwoo glanced up at the girl, looking away when their eyes met. He couldn't help but stiffen up as they both turned towards the camera. "I thought you went home with the others." He mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, smiling as the photographer clicked away. Most of the members had already finished their photoshoots and gone home.

Cyana's lips quirked down into a suppressed frown. "I stayed back. The car could only take four of us and Seungkwan looked dead on his feet."

"Look this way!" The photographer yelled, cutting off whatever had been Wonwoo's reply.

"Schedules forced Wonwoo to actually talk to me." Cyana couldn't help but grin despite the topic. "It was fun, I guess."

"I've always been a very introverted person." Wonwoo said to the camera, wringing his hands nervously. "I enjoy having time to myself."

Cyana smiled when the interviewer finished talking. "Yeah.. Wonwoo's always been a bit of an enigma to me. Like a mystery I just can't figure out."

Cyana's sitting with Dino in their hotel room, busy eating the lunch they had grabbed from the staff room. They're both mid-bite when the door opens.

"Nana~" Seungkwan walked in, fixing his hat. He was dressed and ready to go out. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Spotting the camera, he waves. "Oh- Hi~ We're going to Super Junior's concert."

Cyana shook her head, still chewing. "It's okay." She managed to say once swallowing. "I think I'm going to stay in today."

Seungkwan nodded, ruffling both her and Dino's hair before leaving. Neither maknae gave any indication they had even noticed the action, continuing to enjoy their meal.

"I'm gonna go to the sauna with Vernon later." Dino told Cyana through muffled chewing. "Do you want to come?"

Cyana made a face. "To the sauna?" She mimed gagging. "No thanks, Chan."

Dino made a face back. "I keep forgetting there are things you can't do that other members can." He smiled when she frowned. "I guess going to the sauna would be a little weird."

"I guess??" Cyana questioned, amazed at his lack of modesty. "A little??"

Dino shrugged. "You're a bro, bro."

"Where on earth did you learn that-" Cyana asked, though she already knew the answer. Vernon. Duh.

Jun and Cyana lazed in bed, Cyana watching Jun's phone from next to him. The girl was half-asleep, eyelids drooping and head lulling against the wall.

Wonwoo walked in, fresh from a shower, double taking when he saw Cyana. Gears turning in his head, he reluctantly slid into his own bed, throwing his blanket over himself.

"What did you do today, Wonwoo?" Jun asked, eyes still focused on the phone. He looked over at Wonwoo before checking on Cyana, smiling to himself when he saw her tired expression.

"I played tennis." Wonwoo answered. "Worked out, went swimming, then ate with the others- what did you guys eat?" He subconsciously said guys, including Cyana into the question. She perked up from Jun's side, suddenly awake.

"I ate with Donghae and Eunhyuk hyung after their concert." Jun replied, nudging Cyana. "What about you?"

"I ate with Dino."

Both boys frowned. "I thought that was your lunch." Jun said, both confused and worried. "You didn't have anything for dinner?"

Cyana paused. "I had some snacks. Not that hungry, since I didn't do much today." She shrugged. "I ate a lot for lunch anyways." Redirecting the topic, she turned to Jun. "Was the concert fun?"

Jun nodded. "It was so much fun." Sitting up straighter, he placed down his phone, fully engaged now. "They speak Japanese so well."

Wonwoo hummed. "We should learn to do that."

"Jeonghan and Hoshi are both great." Cyana sighed. "I think if I have one more language in my head I might combust."

Her quip brought both boys to laughter. "It's okay." Wonwoo said quietly, once the laughter died down. "You can just speak a lot for our North American tours."

"I always had a kind of weak presence, and I never fit in well as a kid." Wonwoo told the camera. "But with Seventeen I didn't get that feeling. They made me feel welcomed, always made me shine without needing to." He paused for a moment, thinking. "They're very important to me- because of that."

"Mingyu once told me Wonwoo cared deeply about his place in the group - he said it might sound selfish but I don't think so." Cyana's eyes were a little sad as she looked at the interviewer. "Mingyu said Wonwoo only has Seventeen. I guess he was just trying to tell me Wonwoo's very protective over the people he loves - and that was the only reason why it felt like he didn't like me." Cyana shrugged. "It made me hate him less."

"Ah. Mingyu told her that?" Wonwoo grimaced once hearing what the interviewer told him about Cyana's interview before him. "I guess he's right. I didn't want Seventeen to break apart because of her." He looked away, embarrassed. "They were my first friends. I only have them."

"What do you mean Dino's ill?"

Cyana stared at a worried Hoshi. "Is it serious?" She asked, verging on panic. It felt like the boys were dropping like flies around her - what with Jeonghan's body decay, DK's sore throat, Seungkwan's ankle, Seungcheol's unstable mind and now Dino.

"He's getting it checked." Hoshi told her, not wanting to worry her further with the details. "You won't do anything - panicking like that."

Cyana took a few breaths, knowing he was right. "You're right. Okay." She let out a deep breath. "He'll be okay."

"On in 3 minutes!" A staff member called from the door.

She stood up, following everyone as they shuffled out towards the stage. Wonwoo stumbled a few paces in front of her, making her look his way.

"You good?" She whispered, speeding up to stand beside him.

He only gave her a curt nod, refusing to look at her and instead focusing on the lift in front of them. They could both hear the cheers from here.

"Go, go!" A staff rushes them both onto the lift before either of them could break the silence. Cyana could only glance at him again as they were lifted up onstage.

She thought she was mistaken when she saw him go down. The area behind the stage was dimly lit, and there was a commotion as the Hiphop Unit finished their stage and came down to switch with the Performance Unit. Cyana thought maybe her eyes were acting up, when she saw Wonwoo run down the stairs, take a few steps and drop.

Staff members were on him in an instant. Cyana was shoved aside as they rushed to lift him, moving him out the walkway and onto a table- it's sole purpose was to serve as a bed in case this very thing happened.

She felt like her limbs were falling her, leaving her frozen in place.

"Go." Mingyu mouthed the words at her, pointing at Wonwoo. He pointed next at the tent, gesturing that he needed to get his mic checked. "Stay with him." He pointed again at Wonwoo.

Cyana willed her legs to move, shuffling over to Wonwoo's side. The crowd of staff had dispersed, leaving him alone with two staff members- one with a fan and one with an oxygen tank.

She took the oxygen tank from one of them and told them she could do it instead.

"Wonwoo." She muttered, lifting the oxygen tank and placing it gently in front of his mouth. His chest rose dangerously fast as he tried to catch his breath. "Breathe." She found only English in her mind as she tried not to panic. "Please breathe."

His eyes darted around until they landed on her face. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, he raised a hand and pushed the oxygen tank weakly away from his face, trying to speak. "What- what's going on." He panted out, his speech slightly slurred.

Cyana felt her heart crack. "Don't try to talk." She reprimanded him, gently pushing him back down to rest. "You passed out."

If Wonwoo could breathe, he would've snapped at her to leave him alone, that he could take care of himself. He couldn't. Instead, he closed his eyes, allowing her to take care of him. Just this once.

"She was gentle with me." Wonwoo recalled. "Even though I hadn't been kind to her."

"Breathe." She mumbled again, mindlessly repeating it as her brain turned numb from everything going on. She stayed next to him, raising the oxygen tank to his lips whenever his lungs failed to do the job. "It's okay."

"She stayed throughout the whole thing." Wonwoo looked sheepishly at the camera. "I don't think I even said 'thank you.' We just returned on stage."

Cyana shrugged at the interviewer's question. "He didn't need to say anything. Sometimes words fail us - his eyes said enough."

[anonajn]

out of these i'm picking ian mckellan and tim curry in amadeus, but what i really want to see is keanu reeves doing hamlet in winnipeg in 1995. here is a review, and i also put it below

Most Excellent Prince

"What a piece of work is Keanu's Hamlet!"

This is one role that might have been written for the star of Speed, says Roger Lewis.

I crossed oceans of time to find him: 30 hours from my house in France, through several time zones and the polar wastes, to Winnipeg -- of all places the most God-forsaken. Situated in the dead centre of Canada, ice-bound for half the year, once a trading post for the Hudson Bay Co, and now a maze of subterranean shopping malls, Winnipeg is a town even the locals mock: "Winnipeg folk travel a lot -- to get away from Winnipeg";"Winnipeg looks great -- after dark, when the view is better..." They need not be so diffident. The standard of living is high (no beggars, no litter, no germs); they have opera, ballet, theatre -- and Keanu Reeves, the 30-year-old actor who had fled there, to be far out of reach, to play Hamlet.

Let's get it out of the way at once, and wipe that smirk off your face; if you had anticipated Bill and Ted's Shakeapearian Adventure, forget it. He was wonderful. He quite embodied the innocence, the splendid fury, the animal grace of the leaps and bounds, the emotional violence, that form the Prince of Denmark. He has the sheer virility of Larry Olivier's melancholy Dane -- which Keanu saw on video just the other week -- plus the Peter Pannishness, the little-boy-lost quality, that I remember Mark Rylance bringing to the role. He was both vulnerable (as in the scenes with Gertrude when a goodnight kiss goes on and on until mother and son recoil in horror at their arousal) and severe (as in the bit where he flies at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern for presuming to "play upon me...you would pluck out the heart of my mystery").

He is one of the top three Hamlets I have seen, for a simple reason; he *is* Hamlet, and he has been a lonely a resourceful type, who won't submit, in film after film. He is full of undercurrents and overtones, which is why the world's big directors want to work with him. He is killingly attractive, no question. He can look, from moment to moment, faintly oriental, with his slanted black eyes -- he has Chinese, Hawaiian and British blood in him -- or crew-cut clean Caucasian; he can be Californian (especially in his locutions: I'd not been asked whether I felt a really cool dude before) and exotic, like a Canadian-Indian -- I kept seeing his profile in ancient Inuit sculpture, which Winnipeg has museums full of.

But his physique is just the first thing which sets him apart. What counts is the impression we get of a nature that is turbulent and proud -- though he can exude calm and courtliness -- and that he has a gift given to few; like Garbo, he is an actor who can register -- simultaneously -- both pleasure and pain. And, like Garbo, he prefers to keep his own company. He doesn't want to be crowded.

Is that why he chose Winnipeg? A self-enclosed community in the lonesome prairie? He was there without bodyguards or companions; there is not Court of Keanu; no agents or PR persons or those curious factotums, former ballet dancers usually, who tend to cluster around a star, like maggots on a chop. He walked to work, shuffling through the snow (it was minus 25 degrees C) in his curious, dancing, tripping-over-himself way. He'd been seen in a cafe on his own, nursing a Perrier. Here was the paradox of this famous and desirable man, and there is nobody with him, ever. He is loved -- by million of hungry fans -- but does he know how to love? He went to the Prarie Oyster restaurant with the cast, and left early; taking his food away in a doggy bag; he went to an Italian restaurant and left in case two girls at the bar pestered him. None of this behaviour is sulky, tantrumy, make no mistake about that, for he has a great and unfeigned tenderness; it is more that, like Hamlet, he has a world within himself.

He is coping with stardom, and trying to appear normal (when he knows he is not) by ignoring it. He doesn't own a house in L.A. He lives in hotels or in the rooms of actors who are out of town. He doesn't want too easy a life -- the mansions and the flunkeys. He anchors his ship for a little while only, and this is how he struck me in conversation -- though he is sitting there, he is not quite there all the time, as he darts from mood to mood, curving and winding, cautious and direct. Though he had been an athletic, piratical Hamlet, there is this huge, I can only call it ethereal, element. He is retiring from society, from life -- and that might be dangerous; his spirituality could intensify, and he could spirit away. He is in his dressing room hours and hours before the show. I'll bet he is bouncing around and getting himself into mortal and human shape so that he can appear or stage. For he is an eagle, really; or a glossy and supple stallion.

Hollywood, meantime, would prefer this wild beast to be back with them, making more bomb-on-the-bus stuff; there were brokers and moguls, less interested in him than in the money he makes, doing their best to scupper the production. Shakespeare in Winnipeg! Three weeks on a basic Equity rate! When he could be reaping billions after Speed! (After all, reports last week of his sign-up fee for the new movie, Drop Dead, ranged from 4 million pounds to 10 million pounds.) Thus, the Manitoba Theatre Centre, a concrete lump that looks as though it is dissolving, was forbidden from arranging publicity interviews with the Principal Boy; there were to be no press tickets, photo calls, nothing. CBC was forbidden to run a clip of Keanu in action -- so their bulletin was literally Hamlet without the Prince.

Hollywood pretended it was not happening; they were deeply contemptuous and suspicious of the entire affair. The rumor was that Keanu's own representatives would not fly to see his performance until they were absolutely certain he had not made a fool of himself. Supportive, huh? It just makes him the more like Hamlet, coming here, against the odds; embattled. It had been his idea to work again with his drama school mentor, the Toronto director Lewis Baumander, for whom he was once a thrilling Mercutio; and the production was built around Keanu, quite deliberately. Gone is the messy, modern, neurotic Hamlet; Baumander has encouraged us to see the character's sense of duty; and Keanu -- who is himself facing a challange, taking a risk -- would make a good King of Denmark, because he has re-discovered the splendour of heroism, its Camelot quality; which is how he transfigured Speed, giving it extra spin and nuance.

The Winnipeggios were tickled pink to have him in their midst -- they had not seen a star since Charlie Chaplin drove through on his way to fish in the lake -- and this, plus the fact that all 22,000 seats for the run were sold out on subscription (i.e. before the box office opened), was a story in itself. The local press had a Keanu Hotline: "If you see Keanu out and about in Winnipeg, don't keep it a secret. Call 697-7368." But this scheme was spiked -- by the readers. "It's wonderful what he has done for Winnipeg," I was often told, and though most people had indeed spotted him, he was to be accorded respect and privacy. This seemed rather British -- old-fashioned and virtuous -- British like an Ealing comedy. People were so polite, they would phone the theatre and ask if they could ask for an autograph ("He's very approachable," said the receptionist. "You could come and see him in the lobby"). The staff at the Sheraton, not wanting to over-do it, obtained a single signature and photocopied it.

Best of all -- a moment out of a Boulting Bros. film -- was the opening night itself. "Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding for the Governor General of Manitoba and Mrs Carlton Browne, and the Lady Mayoress and her goddaughter Patsy." And in trooped these Peter Sellers characters, in medals and ostrich plumes and we sang God Save the Queen. That this was followed by a burst of jangling rock music and Keanu in a spotlit tableau grieving over his father's tomb is I suppose what these days gets to be called surreal.

Afterwards, the cast party: to which the entire audience was invited. Though the Winnipeg Free Press and the Winnipeg Sun reported this as a stellar evening to outrank Graumann's Chinese, the atmosphere, for all the ice sculptures of Elsinore and cavier canapes, was actually much more like a village hall -- with Keanu down at the end scribbling on people's programmes and posters. He was still performing -- or continuing to be, in endless permutation. For each person, he would adjust, to make them special: a puppyish younger brother with men; a chivalric knight when calming the hyperventilating teens; the adored grown-up son to the older women, who want to be his mother, Wendy to his frowning Peter Pan. Men and women desire that he should like them, and he would speak to them and pose for their Instamatics, and they'd fantasise forever that he'd stay with them. (There were no ogling gays in evidence, by the way. Perhaps the Canadian cold snaps keep them down.)

He doesn't need applause; he wants to survive the flattery. His exhortation to me was to deal justly with him. He is measurelessly puzzling and fascinating.

I'll never forget one occasion. It was midnight and we were standing outside the theatre, wrapped up against the cold -- and there was this huge hearse-like stretch limo 20 or so yards away. This was the only touch that said "movie star" and was very un-Winnipeg. "My mother," he said, in his low, soft and furry voice. "She had come to town to see the production," and the sinister car conveyed her -- and him -- around the corner to the Westin Hotel.

Before disappearing, he glanced at the the vehicle with amusement and embarrassement. Dressed in his layers of black, tall and elegant and as slim as a shark's fin, and with the snowflakes softly falling on his hat, twinkling and refusing to melt on his skin, and with his face inclined towards me, so intent you would swear he could listen to the wolves barking amid the ice and frozen rivers, he was very beautiful.

Time Travel Question 67: Assorted Performances VI

These Questions are the result of suggestions from the previous iteration.

This category may include suggestions made too late to fall into the correct grouping.

Please add new suggestions below if you have them for future consideration.

[auroracalisto]

opposites attract, or so they say

simon x gn!reader, 1.9k words summary: simon's got a crush on the sweet little thing down the street. a/n: I love him. I love kyle gallner. send help. tw: lots of cussing but it's mostly because I went with simon's pov and ran with it, simon is buzzed, brief mention of sexual content but like nothing other than the idea

Simon was a lot of things.

Angry. Vile. Crude. A badass punk rocker.

But there was something more to him than just that. There was something deep within him that screamed for release, that just wanted to be a part of his world just as much as the rest of him.

And that, which it's far more simple than you might think, was the need to be loved.

His family was shit. That was a given. Never once looked at him like they were proud of him, which for what it was worth, he couldn't give a shit.

His bandmates were fucking righteous, but what the fuck's that got to do with anything? Love from a bandmate? Right. Weird as fuck. This wasn't one of those half-assed teen romcoms where the drummer fell in love with the lead singer. He'd rather vomit in front of an entire set than have his drummer fall in "love" with him.

And then, there was you. That bitch down the block that made him question anything and everything. Just looking at you made him feel things that he wasn't used to, and it infuriated him.

Sure, maybe he wanted to be loved, but by you? Sweet, little Y/n who'd never had a bad thought in your life? For fucks sake, it was as if the universe was laughing at him!

The universe was always laughing at him.

But who cares? He was in a punk ass band, he always stuck it to the Man, and when it mattered most, his bandmates showed up when others didn't.

But you were always on his mind.

Shit.

He was down bad for you. There was no way around it.

Standing outside your doorstep, half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips, he knocked rather loudly. If you didn't answer, he'd just leave. God, he hoped you didn't answer. The cherry wine coolers he'd had just moments before weren't doing much to settle his nerves.

Why the fuck was he even nervous?

It wasn't like it was the first time he'd been around you. Hell, he'd smoked a cigarette or three on your doorstep, complaining about anything and everything as you drank a soda, a coffee, or one of those cheap wine coolers he brought you.

It wasn't like he didn't know you.

There's a pause as he sucks in a deep breath of smoke, and the door opens to reveal you. In your pajamas like a good little samaritan, ready for bed at 10 in the evening.

Simon silently scolded himself. Of course you were ready for bed. A goody-two-shoes who most definitely wasn't waiting up for some kind of divine inspiration for a new song. Who wasn't waiting up for some kind of alcohol to finally kick in.

You blinked slowly at him. You knew him—not as well as you would like to, but you knew him. You had a history class together back in high school, and while you weren't that teenager from way back when, you still remember the inkling of a crush you had on him. You knew him way better then than you did, now.

Ethics be damned, am I right?

"Simon?"

Your voice was so soft, so sweet. He just wanted to turn around and walk away, to avoid you so he wouldn't taint you like he wanted to.

Dammit.

"Hey, Y/n," he said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it beneath his boots. "You, uh, got a minute?"

You blinked slowly but gave a small nod, stepping out onto the porch. You closed the door behind you to keep the cool air from going in. Your arms crossed over your chest and you watched Simon closely before he spoke. It wasn't the first time you had done this.

You stood barefoot in front of him, the cold concrete a not-so-welcome addition to the conversation.

"Look," he began. "I, uh, just wanted to—well, fuck, I don't know what I wanted to—"

He was a blabbering mess. What the fuck was this? He was confident, but around you, it was as if every little bit of his brazenness melted away.

"You, me, bar tomorrow night, yeah?" he blurted.

Simple. To the point. Far less embarrassing than what happened just moments prior.

Your eyes widened, and he can see the gears turning in your pretty mind. But you didn't seem adverse.

You smiled a bit. "What bar?"

He blinked slowly. "What bar? The fuck—uh," he looked over his shoulder, clearing his throat. "Sure. Why the fuck not? Bar on Main Street."

"Will I meet you there?"

He scrunched his nose. "Yeah. Meet me there."

"Cool. What time?"

He blinked slowly. "Time? Fucks sake, Y/n, you ask a hell of a lot of questions," he said, snorting softly. "Let's, uh, say nine? Or is that too late for you?" He eyed your warm pajamas.

"I'll be there," you said.

He perked up a bit before he looked you up and down one more time. "Fucking right," he said. "Be there." He took a step back, nearly faltering on the first step of your porch, but then he turned away and without another word, left you behind.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wasn't stupid. He was smart in his own ways, sure, but what the actual fuck was that?

Girls threw themselves at his feet, especially when he was John Q. Guys did too, in their own ways—hell, he had one guy one time tell him he'd give him a blowjob if he looked at him for longer than five seconds.

He almost took him up on the offer. But that was nearly a year ago, and the way you looked at him tonight made his heart melt in the confines of his beaten chest.

Dammit all, what the fuck was he doing?

Love. What the hell would love give him that he couldn't get from some random fucker down the street?

What in the ever-loving hell was he doing?

Nine o'clock on the dot, he was there at the bar on Main.

Down bad. He knew it, too. Even canceled his band practice just to come and see you. His drummer had nearly cussed him out, but Simon didn't give a shit.

He went straight to the bar and ordered a beer, downing half of it in the first few seconds of having it.

When he felt a hand on his arm, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked down, seeing you standing there. You actually came. You weren't pulling his dick, you actually showed up.

His heart pounded nervously in his chest. Shit. When was the last time he was actually this nervous?

"Y/n," he said.

You smiled up at him. Did anyone ever tell you how pretty your smile was?

What. The. Fuck.

"You said nine, right?" you asked. "I'm avoiding my pajamas just for you."

Just for him. Fuuuck.

You were cute.

He shoots a cheeky grin, leaning against the bar counter. He could be suave. He could be confident and not seem as needy as he felt. The pyro was more than capable.

But for some reason, he didn't feel like lying to you. He didn't feel like joking around, or trying to show you something that simply wasn't true.

He'd loved you since that stupid class back in high school—the one with Mr. Fuck-face and that terrible toupee. You had been so nice to him, while everyone else had treated him like a parasite. Not that he blamed them. He knew what he was.

He cleared his throat and looked around the bar. Maybe it hadn't been the best place to ask you to, but the alcohol definitely would help at some point.

"Yeah. I said nine," he said.

You ordered a drink. He doesn't listen to what you say to the bartender. He's staring you down, eyeing you like a fine choice of meat. Fuck, you were, though. Every inch of you was like heaven to him.

Maybe it wasn't love he wanted. Maybe it was just lust that kept him in a chokehold.

Besides, he hardly knew you. Knew you briefly in high school, but the fuck's that matter? How long has it been since the two of you graduated?

Long enough.

Long enough for everything to change, except for him, apparently.

"How've you been?"

Your voice drew him out of his thoughts. He looked at you, blinking slowly, before he shrugged.

"Busy," he said.

"You still playing?"

He blinked slowly. "Huh?"

"In high school. You had a band. You still playing?"

You remembered that? Shit.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm still playing. We play a couple gigs here and there."

Your eyes widened. "Really? Where do you play?"

"Wherever we can get a spot. You, uh, should totally come out to hear it some time."

You smiled immediately. "I would love to," you said.

He stared you down. Either you were lying or you were one of the fuckers who he knew he'd never get enough of. It's looking like it would be the latter.

He looked away from you, taking a swig of his beer.

"You think that—"

He interrupted you, slamming his beer onto the counter. "Look," he said rather quickly. "I don't know what it is, but I need you to take me seriously for a second."

You blinked slowly. "Yeah. What's up?"

He clenched his jaw as he looked at you. He wasn't angry with you—nah, he was angry with himself. Not talking to you sooner, not kissing your pretty mouth, not—

"I think you're fucking tits," he said, taking hold of you by your shoulders. "I'm not about to sit here and tell you I love you, because I don't, but for fuck's sake, I want you more than I've wanted anything in my entire life."

Okay. Lie number one. Starting off strong. But how could you love someone if you didn't truly know who they were? Guess it wasn't really a lie. It just... was a half truth, if that.

Your eyes are wide as you stared up at him. "What?"

"I want—" he began, letting out a labored breath. "I want you. Okay? There. Fuck. I said it."

"You... you want me? How?"

He snorted softly at your question. "I want you in every fuckin' way imaginable, Y/n."

He said nothing more, leaving it up for your interpretation, but clearly, by the way he was looking at you, it was obvious.

"Simon—"

"Nah, don't," he said. "If you're gonna protest, I don't want to hear it."

"I'm not gonna protest—"

"—I've had enough people tell me they don't want me, and it pisses me off."

"But I—"

"—I'm serious, Y/n."

"Simon. I'm not protesting," you said defensively. "I—I feel the same way."

He blinked slowly at you, like he didn't just hear you correctly.

"What?" he asked.

"I like you," you said. "Have for a while now."

"You..."

"Yeah. I do," you said.

"Well shit," he breathed out, looking down at you. "Well that was easier than I thought it would be."

He pulled on a cheeky grin, and those pretty eyes of his bored into yours.

"You should kiss me," you said, smiling up at him.

"The fuck?" he let out a curt laugh, but he took you up on the offer. A hand moved to the back of your neck, and his lips pressed to yours almost instantaneously.

Fuuck, he'd wanted to do this shit for ages. Why the hell didn't he ask you sooner?

[aheathen-conceivably]

Warm air settled over Strangerville as Antoine spent his weeks at home. For days he did little but enjoy the quiet rhythm of life, helping Zelda with work or waiting for Violette to return home from school. All he wanted was to spend every moment that he could with them, storing away memories for the sleepless nights he knew awaited him in the near future. Only there was still one thing he had to do before he went back on the road, so one day in Spring he made the long trek up the hill to Hines Ranch.

Violette was by his side, mostly because she had hardly ever left it since he returned, but also because she never missed an opportunity to visit Hines Ranch now that her days there were few and far between. The whole walk she vacillated between chattiness and moody sighs, trying to make her displeasure about his imminent departure known while still wanting to talk to him. 

Every time she did, his resolve crumbled. Whatever other difficulties he faced leaving again paled next to this: disappointing her over and over again each time her childish joy turned to loneliness right before his eyes. It was all he could do to give her every bit of attention she wanted while he was here, so that there was never any request too big or misbehavior worth reprimanding.

Because deep down, he felt like she was right to treat him this way. He had seen how much her hair had grown and how desperately she needed new dresses. Even if he knew that leaving meant he could give her that and more, it was at the expense of missing so much.

The farmyard was quiet as they approached, the pens where Antoine had learned to wrangle horses empty and the man he sought nowhere to be seen. He took Violette by the hand and walked toward the barn, betting that Abe and his horses were in the cool shade of the afternoon. As soon as they drew near a small voice sang out from the darkness beyond. “Lottie!”

She hesitated briefly, pulling at Antoine’s hand as Will appeared at the stall doors. “I should have known you were near. Silver didn’t seem nearly as angry this feeding. Wanna come and see her?”

Immediately, Violette let go of Antoine’s hand and ran toward Will; but as she reached him she seemed to remember that if she turned her back, her father might disappear. So she kept her face turned even as Will guided her to the horses. Antoine’s heart ached as he looked at her. “Go on, little Princess. I’m right behind you.”

She ran directly into the enclosure without an ounce of fear. Silver neighed happily before looking up toward Antoine; then she brought her ears forward and turned her attention to Violette. As he looked at them, it seemed almost foolish to think of how many weeks he had spent calmy and hesitantly winning the horse over when his daughter's intense energy and loud laugher had immediately done the same.

He wondered what exactly it was that Silver sensed in her that made her so calm. Maybe it was her fearlessness that he himself had come to admire, or the unabashed way her emotions came to her without thought or filter, like a storm in the desert sending clouds of dust through the sky.

Antoine’s thoughts were interrupted by heavy footfall that he would have recognized anywhere. He turned toward the sound while the two children stayed preoccupied. “Judging by that new tie, I take it you’re not here to get back to work, are ya?” 

Forgetting why he had come for a moment, Antoine allowed himself a smile before he took his friend’s outstretched hand. Then he glanced back at Violette, trying to ensure that she wasn’t listening. He knew that any mention of the next tour was guaranteed to send her sulking, but she had already begun to whisper conspiratorial plans to Will while she pointed at the caged horses.

“I’m afraid not.” Antoine cleared his throat nervously, guilt washing over him that he had come here to quit a job that had been given to him in good faith. Before the first tour he had told Abe that it was only temporary, and maybe he had hoped it was. But there was no denying the opportunity anymore. “Jo’s booked up two more tours. I hope I’m not putting you out too terribly by leaving with so little notice."

A bright smile overtook Abe's face, one that Antoine immediately recognized as genuine pride. "Nonsense! I believe congrats are in order. Will's old enough to help now anyhow, and if need be there’s still no shortage of men after a job. No replacing you with them horses though, so might as well give it a go on my own for a while.”

Guilt settled deeper in Antoine’s stomach as he realized what he had already suspected: Abe had never needed his work. He had done it to help him when he had been at his lowest. The bright smile stayed on his face. “Want to come inside for a cup of coffee? Day’s mostly done anyway. Besides, I would like to hear where that guitar has been. Will?” His gaze went over Antoine’s shoulder, snapping Will’s eyes to immediate attention even while Violette’s continued to wander the stalls, “No leaving the farmyard, you know the rules.”

Settled inside the cool wooden walls of the farmhouse, Abe set down a tray of coffee still steaming from the stove. He poured a steady stream of coffee into each mug as he spoke. “So how was it out there?”

Antoine reached out for his cup, letting the scent wash over him like he would after a long day’s work. “It had its moments.”

Abe looked into his cup the same that way Antoine was, his voice taking on a sort of melancholy tone that sounded just as rooted in the past as it was the present. “I reckon alot of folk will act like it should be easier. Making your living playing music rather than working somewhere like here. But it has its own pains. I know.”

Their conversation seemed to flow easier after that, discussing how the mountains grew taller as the road led further from New Mexico, or how this year’s cattle drive just didn’t seem to be getting any better. Eventually their rusted pot stopped steaming and the seemingly endless stream of coffee ran dry, but their shared laughter felt just as warm.

Only the sun beams angling through the Western windows told them how much time had really passed, and Abe looked down at his empty cup one final time. "Come on, I'll walk you out. Lord knows we'll have to go looking for Lottie and Will." Antoine rose to his feet behind him, a good natured laugh leaving his lips as his chair scaped against the floor.

By the time they emerged from the house, the early afternoon sun was shining on the sand and the heat had begun to abate. In the distance, children’s laughter could be heard, most certainly from beyond the farmyard. A small smile played on Abe’s face as he looked out toward the distant voices. “You know he only breaks that rule when your girl is here?”

“I’ll talk to her first thing when we get home…”

Abe waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t. It’s good for them to feel a bit independent 'round this age. Besides,” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his voice grew quiet, “I worry he follows my rules to a fault sometimes. Life will hit him hard one day.”

Quiet fell between them as the laughter came closer and footsteps rang out across the mesa. Antoine shuffled his feet, conscious of the lingering words he wanted to say. “‘Suppose they heard our voices, didn’t they? Bet they’ll claim they were only just over the fence.”

Abe looked in their direction, letting the sun hit his eyes. “Sure will. And we’ll pretend like it’s the truth.” He brought his hand up to his face, ostentatiously to shield it from the sun, but also to ensure that it wasn’t visible as he spoke. “Just don’t be a stranger, will you? No need for work if you want to bring your girl by.”

Antoine cleared his throat, the words he had really come here to say finally bubbling to the surface. "Of course. And, Abe - thank - thank you. For the work I mean - for - for everything since we’ve been here. Zelda and I - we appreciate it.”

The quiet that fell between them was one of understanding, and from the corner of his eye Antoine saw Abe give a quick nod of his head. Then, right on cue, their children rounded the fence, their hands interlocked and their faces full of joy.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 6 - The Kim Estate

Chapter Summary - A little bit of Y/N's backstory and her family's history. She gets a tour of the Kim Estate from San and Wooyoung and gets a brief glimpse into the boys' private lives.

warnings: San does get a little violent towards the end, and Wooyoung cracks a few sex jokes (MDNI)

Series Masterlist

The house I grew up in was nothing short of a prison. I had all the luxuries of high society, yes, but that didn't mean I felt the same warmth and compassion children should be surrounded with.

My father owned a fashion company, Belluxe, one of the biggest in our part of the world. He had a lot of ties with some dangerous and powerful people, and as I got older I realized how much it had really gotten to his head.

The power. The greed.

I was forbidden to talk to him when I was young, only if we had guests. If I did without permission, he'd get angry. He had only gotten physical with me once, and that was when our family bond broke forever.

I was nine years old, home from boarding school with Christmas like I normally would be. My younger sister was ecstatic to have me home, finally having someone other than our mother to play with. Our older sister, she wasn't around this time. I figured she'd stayed at school for the holidays, but as I got older I found out she had run away.

I went by a different name back then, first and last. I'd changed it once I was disowned at 17, wanting to leave that old life behind. It was a lot easier than it should have been, all things considered.

I remember we were sitting at the dinner table, the only sound coming from our cutlery scraping across the porcelain plates. My mother had asked briefly how school was, and I gave a short but honest answer; "It was alright."

My father leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty seat where my sister should have been. He cleared his throat, causing us all to turn our heads in attention.

"Chariya, you'll be the next heir." He says simply, my old name, it felt weird hearing it even if it was just a memory. "Since Chalita has failed to exceed my expectations."

My family was Thai on my mother's side. She'd named us all after members of her family still in Thailand, bringing a piece of her old life with her.

Mother and Father married after father knocked my mother up with Chalita, the eldest. My mother used to say he was a kind man until she gave him too many daughters and no son. I think she just used it as an excuse to hide the snake he really is.

"My love, she is too young-" My mother states before she is cut off.

"Enough! I told you not to speak against me." He shouts, slamming his fist down on the table. My little sister, Chaluai, begins to cry at the sudden noise. My mother bows her head and stands, taking Chaluai with her as she exits the dining room.

I stare down at my plate, hearing the sound of his chair creaking as he leans back.

"Your mother doesn't understand the ways of this world." He says. "But one day you will."

I was startled awake by a knock on the door, causing my body to jump from my skin.

"Hello?" I call out groggily, sitting up.

"Uhm... Y/N? It's San." A muffled voice from the other side of the door calls out.

"Right..." I murmur, the events from the last few nights creeping their way back into my head. I stretch and swing my legs over the side. My feet hit the wood as I shuffle towards the door, opening it slowly.

San stands there on the other side, wearing a suit a little different from the one he wore last night. His eyes widen as I open the door, quickly looking up.

"Just thought I'd wake you... Wooyoung and I are home whenever you want that tour." He says, finding the ceiling very interesting.

"Oh! Just give me a few minutes and I'll come find you." I say, fingers gripping the door. San nods before hurriedly rushing down the hall and towards the stairs. I watch him go before closing the door. He was a lot shyer than last night. Maybe something was on his mind.

I walk into the walk-in wardrobe and look around at all the luxurious clothes hung up for me. There was a cabinet in the center, inside millions of dollars worth of jewelry for me to choose from. I feel a shiver run up my spine at the sight. It had been so long since I'd seen anything like this, and it felt wrong.

I hadn't worked for it, I didn't buy it myself. These men had only met me last night yet they were already willing to spend millions on me. Why?

I settled on a simple top and skirt, slipping on some fluffy slippers that were positioned neatly beside my bed before making my way out into the hallway.

The eery silence shared with the darkness of the hallway settled a sick feeling in my stomach. It was so quiet, that no chatter or thumping of footsteps could be heard. I figured Wooyoung and San were downstairs somewhere, praying that they weren't the type to jump out and scare me.

I head towards the staircase, the scenery getting brighter as I peek down at the pretty white marble that now glittered in the sunlight. My hand slides down the railing as the stairs take me to the lower floor. I gaze at the paintings on the wall, one of all 8 of them positioned on and around a fancy-looking couch, and another with a younger-looking Hongjoong, who I assumed to be his mother, father, and brother.

I didn't know he had a brother, I wonder what happened to him?

I glanced left and right once I reached the bottom of the stairs, the house felt like a maze, going on forever in both directions.

"San? Wooyoung?" I call out, my hands finding my elbows as I glance around. I decided to go left, entering what seemed to be the main living room based on the three couches and the fireplace with a television situated above it. I reach my hand out and press my fingers into the plush cushions, feeling the soft fabric beneath my skin.

"Y/N?" A voice makes me jump, I turn around to see Wooyoung standing in the doorway I just walked through. He had a grin on his face. "Scared ya?" He says with a light cackle.

I splutter for a moment before crossing my arms tighter. I watch as he scans my figure, admiring my figure.

"Eyes are up here, Wooyoung." I tease, as he stares a little too long at my legs.

"Yeosang picked your wardrobe well." He says, ignoring my words and stepping a little closer. "Would prefer you don't wear it around me though."

I hold my hand up and stop him from coming any closer right as San enters from another door behind me.

"Hongjoong said we should give you a tour." He says gruffly, his hair looking a lot messier than it was when he visited maybe 20 minutes prior. I glanced at his knuckles, noticing the light bruising that had begun to blossom before he quickly hid them in the pockets of his jacket.

"I'm ready to start whenever you are," I say, offering him a smile which he hesitates to return.

"Well, this is the main living room. Pretty obvious since it looks like a living room." Wooyoung chirps, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Don't mind if San is a little quiet. He gets grumpy when he has to work early."

I glance back at San as Wooyoung starts to lead me through another archway into a large room. I gasped as the realization hit me that this was a ballroom. A large and grand ballroom, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. There was a grand piano on a small platform tucked away into a corner, floor-to-ceiling length windows with a matching door that led out to the backyard and a large diamond-clad chandelier dangled from the ceiling.

I could feel Wooyoung's grin as I slowly moved away from him, my jaw hanging slightly as I walked to the center. There were mosaic patterns that formed a lily flower on the floor under my feet which made me smile.

"Seonghwa told us to open the curtains for you, they haven't been opened since Hongjoongs parents were alive. The only person that uses this room is Mingi when he wants to play piano." San says from behind me. "Hongjoong's mother painted the lily flower herself."

"It's a painting?" I ask, turning to look back at both of them in surprise.

"Doesn't look it right? She was extremely talented at making things look different than what they are." Wooyoung says, the same grin on his face.

The tour went on, and every room amazed me more than the last. The kitchen was huge, almost twice the size of my bedroom with a dining room attached to it which was just as big. My mind wandered to all the grand dinners they must have hosted when Hongjoongs parents were still alive. Did they host balls too? It would be foolish not to considering how beautiful the setting was.

There was a pool, a greenhouse, and even a golf course in the backyard. I glanced over the hill and caught a glimpse of a tennis court on the far side of the golf course. I wondered how many acres this house was on. We weren't that from the city, however I couldn't see any other buildings for miles.

Inside on the first floor, there was a two-story library, another 2 smaller seating rooms, and laundry/housekeeping quarters behind the kitchen. The hallways were twisting in all directions, as if intentional. Was the layout meant to confuse people? Maybe intruders?

It would be smart if it was, all things considered. The house was intimidating from the outside just on its own, getting lost on the inside felt like a terrifying idea.

"Do you guys have maids?" I ask my arm now linked with Wooyoungs. I'd hate to be a worker here, having to clean this house would have to take days. Not only that but cooking? Laundry? Maintenance work would be a nightmare too.

"We do, they have Sundays off." Wooyoung answers, leading me back to the main stairwell. "Upstairs is mostly bedrooms and bathrooms. Hongjoong's home office is at the end of the hall on the right." He adds.

I nod, my neck craning to look at the paintings lining the walls once again. There was a painting of a woman, a beautiful woman with long black hair and piercing green eyes with freckles dusting her cheeks. I stared at the painting for a moment, getting a sinking feeling that she was staring back.

"That's Aurora." Wooyoung murmurs, eyes on the painting too. "She was... The one before you." He hesitates to say, glancing down at me before looking back up at the painting. I let go of his arm and climbed a few steps to stand directly in front of her painting.

"She's beautiful... Pretty name too." I say softly, my eyes softening as more details reveal themselves.

"You would have liked her," San says, his arms crossed as he looks at the painting, a sad look in his eyes. "She was like you, not a dancer though... More of a reader."

"If you wanted to find her she'd only ever be in the library," Wooyoung says with a small chuckle. "Most of the books in there were gifts for her, from us." He says.

"What happened to her?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I turn back to them. They're both staring up at the painting, Wooyoung lowers his head and lets out a soft, pained sigh once he registers my question.

"We'll tell you in time. You should get settled first." San answers, his voice low.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel an ounce of jealousy. It was obvious she wasn't in the picture, whether she was alive or not. However, the pained look on Wooyoungs face and the behavior of the other boys when she is mentioned made me think it was the latter. I felt sad for them. It was obvious they loved her, maybe more than I would ever realize or truly know.

A part of me was envious of that fact. To be loved so unconditionally was something I had dreamed of since I was a little girl. But, another part of me was scared. Did their work have something to do with her death? It made sense in a way.

A loud crash made me jump from my thoughts. I look to San and Wooyoung who are suddenly on high alert before San grumbles something and storms off into the direction of the main living room. I glance at Wooyoung as I step down the stairs to follow but the man stops me.

"Don't follow him." He says in a hushed voice, gripping my hips in a tight hold as I glance behind him. My eyes widened, the door San had entered through at the start of the day was wide open with a man stumbling through. San grabs the man by the back of the neck and practically drags him back into the darkness beyond the door.

The man lets out a string of curses and begs as San slams the door shut behind them both, his cries fading into nothing the further they go.

"It's the basement," Wooyoung says, answering my question before I even had to ask. "It's the only place in this house that you are not allowed to go. Understand?" He says, his expression void of any playfulness I had come to associate with his character.

"I understand," I say, staring back up at him with the same wide-eyed expression.

"Good girl." He says with a grin, hand cupping my cheek briefly before moving away, heading towards the staircase. "Come, I'll show you everyone's rooms."

I glance at the door to the basement for a moment before following Wooyoung up the stairs.

I've decided to update the story consistently every Tuesday at 12 am (AEST). A Christmas special is being planned which will be set a few years after the events of this book.

I urge minors to not interact beyond this chapter, for it's going to start getting heavy from this point. I will be checking profiles to make sure so please have something to prove your age on your profile! I don't want to traumatize children <3

Also, I closed the taglist a little early however I'll be going through the comments and the past few posts and making sure I didn't miss anyone. If you aren't on it when this chapter is posted, I'll add you to the next one.

taglist:

@bellaptv @arilevenatz @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @hecateslittlewitchling

@neuviloved @monstacheol @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

@vtyb23 @bigbabygremlin @professormingiglasses

@pinuspot @astral-trashcan @ateezswonderland

[togglesbloggle]

I've got to say, it's a very strange feeling, becoming the sort of person that is in the exact target audience for Buttercup Festival.

Like, this thing has been running for decades, since 2000 if you believe wikipedia, and it got around without ever being really discussed explicitly by people I know. The strips always drifted past me every now and then without incident- neither offensive nor inoffensive, a bit puzzling at times.

And then... something? Something in me, not in the strip, that much is clear enough. But now I just love these little things to death, on a good day it's competitive with Calvin and Hobbes or something else really top-tier.

And it's just bizarre, you know? They certainly don't rely on what you'd traditionally call humor, and even when there's a belly laugh it's not because there was anything like a joke per se. But if I try to explain to people what it is that makes the strip work, I just come up with all these ridiculous sentences that may or may not mean anything.

So I went from not getting the strips at all, and just walking past them without registering their presence, to really enjoying them and considering them one of my favorite comics ever, without once passing through a moment in time where I understood what made them so poignant. Just bouncing between two very different kinds of ignorance.

And that's interesting in itself, no? One kind of wants to reason through one's aesthetic preferences. I know I do. I suppose, on the grounds that I want to reason through everything. But my experience with Buttercup Festival seems determined to resist that treatment, at least so far.

Jokes as an art form are rather interesting- they get a laugh out of us before we know why they're funny, and discussions about humor tend to be unsatisfying after the fact. Explaining a joke doesn't make it any funnier, and the experience of 'funny' itself can't really be explained. Most forms of art, you can develop a deeper appreciation of the form by breaking it down in to specific shapes and methods and styles, and find new layers of beauty as you explore the structure of it. But it seems like laughter doesn't follow the same path, exactly.

Jokes aren't necessarily the only thing with this kind of structure. The koan, also, is supposed to open something to the student without any intervening explanation or analytical framework. Like a good joke, a koan often don't seem to make any damn sense at all, and like a good joke, a koan is often quite short. So that's two examples.

So there's this tricky thing where there's a class of experiences that seems to resist explanation, and we mostly encounter it through humor, but it's not actually limited to humor per se. I don't think I have the slightest idea where the contours of that thing are, or how to explore it, even though it's quite beautiful.

I don't think it's meaningless either, even though it sort of challenges the usual ways we define that term. I don't know how deep it goes, though it's much deeper than I expected. And you can grow in it over time, either because of certain experiences or certain insights or... I don't know. It wasn't signposted. I just kinda woke up here one day.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Frozen In Time – Tyler Owens

Tyler's POV

"Tell me again why we need six cans of dip?" I whined as I followed my best friend through the grocery store aisles.

"Because," she giggled, "your friends inhale anything I put on the refreshment table."

"We don't have to invite them," I shrugged. She stopped the cart and turned toward me.

"You don't want to invite your friends to your party?"

"To be honest, I don't even know why we're having a party, Y/N," I shrugged as I walked past her and started pushing the cart.

"Because you finishing your degree is a big thing," Y/N said as she caught up to me. I bit back my smile when she looped her arms around one of mine. "I'm proud of you, Owens. It's something we should celebrate."

I stopped and turned toward her. "I don't need a party," I said. "I don't need to drink and celebrate with my friends. It would be just as meaningful if it was just you and me with one of our all-night movie nights."

"But you deserve. . ."

"I deserve you, my best friend, celebrating with me."

"Tyler. . ."

Y/N gasped and practically jumped into my arms when alarms rang throughout the store.

"Attention shoppers," the automatic voice rang through the speakers. "There is a tornado nearby. Please follow the nearest employee to the underground storm cellar."

Y/N looked at me with nothing but fear in her eyes. I instantly grabbed her hand and pulled her to the storm cellar. The second we were inside, I moved her as far away from the door as I could and pulled her so we were sitting down.

I looked at her when I felt her shaking next to me. Without a word, I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her into my side. I forced myself to calm down as I heard Y/N take a shaky breath.

"It's okay," I leaned down and whispered in her ear. My heart jumped into my throat when she cuddled more into me. "It's going to be okay, Y/N. We're going to be okay."

"Tyler," she stuttered. "I'm scared."

"I know," I said as I tightened my arms around her. "But we're safe. Okay? We are going to be okay, Y/N. I promise."

Y/N let out a small shriek when the building shook. I instinctively pulled her closer to my chest. I lost track of time as I turned my focus on comforting Y/N.

What felt like ages later, some rescue personnel opened the cellar doors. We numbly filed out, my hand holding Y/N's the entire time. But the second we got outside, Y/N pulled her hand out of mine and walked away.

I wanted nothing more than to run to her, wrap her in my arms, and reassure her that I would never leave her side. But for some stupid reason, I didn't. Instead, I let her walk away.

~ Three Months Later ~

The last couple of months have not been easy. After the storm, I've tried reaching out to Y/N but she hasn't answered. She doesn't text me back or answer my calls, and every voicemail goes unanswered. When I couldn't take her silence anymore, I went to visit her at the bookstore where she works.

"Tyler?" Y/N stuttered when she turned around and noticed me.

"Hey, Y/N," I smiled as I couldn't help but look her up and down.

"What are you doing here?" She asked as she turned and went back to restacking the books.

"It's been a while," I said, lightly. "I wanted to see what you were up to. . . and if you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

I stared at her and could see how tired she was. I sighed as I took a step towards her. "Y/N. . ."

"Y/N," her boss interrupted me, "I need you to go downstairs and grab a box of books."

"Downstairs?" Y/N stuttered. "In the. . ."

"The basement," her boss nodded as she walked away. I watched as Y/N stood frozen.

"Y/N," I said her name gently. "Are you okay? Do you want me to. . ."

"I'm fine," she cut me off. My heart sank as she turned and started heading toward the basement. I watched as she hesitated at the basement door. The second she opened the door, I quickly followed her.

When I started walking down the basement stairs, Y/N was frozen at the bottom. I jogged down the stairs and Y/N was still on the last step.

"Y/N?" I whispered her name. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she stuttered. I went to grab her shoulders but she stepped away. I followed close behind her as she looked for the box her boss wanted. Suddenly, someone walked into the store. Them closing the door made the basement window shake. When it shook, Y/N gasped. I ran to her and instantly grabbed her shoulders.

"It's okay," I whispered as I rubbed her arms. "It was just a customer. It's okay."

We stayed like that for a few minutes, until Y/N calmed down. When she did, she looked over her shoulder and I could see the embarrassment settling in her eyes.

"Y/N," I tried to start again.

"I need to find that box," she said as she gently brushed past me.

As I watched her search for the books, memories of three months ago flooded my brain. I remembered how scared she was. I remembered how tightly she hung on to me. I remembered the relief I felt when the storm passed and I knew that Y/N and I were safe. I remembered the haze in her eyes as we left the basement and got somewhere safe. I remembered the quiver in her voice when she lied and said she was fine. I remembered the feeling in my gut that she wasn't okay when she walked away from me. I remembered the worried feeling getting worse the longer she ignored my calls.

"Y/N, we need to talk about this."

"Talk about what?" She shrugged as she found the box and picked it up.

"The storm."

Those two simple words made Y/N freeze.

"Why. . . Why would. . . Why would we need to talk about that?"

I walked over and took the box out of Y/N's hands. I put it on top of a stack of boxes and turned back toward her. I grabbed her hands and instantly felt how badly they were shaking.

"Y/N, that storm was not a little one," I started to say the thing I've rehearsed too many times. "It was one of the worst storms our town has seen in years. I mean, we were stuck in that basement for almost five hours and. . ."

"I know!" Y/N yelled, cutting me off as she ripped her hands out of mine. She turned away from me and tightened her arms around herself. "You don't need to remind me, Tyler," she continued, her voice breaking. "I haven't stopped thinking about it. How could I? It was the longest four hours and 53 minutes of my life. I have never been more scared, more unsure that I would make it out of there. I have nightmares about it every night.”

"I thought I. . . Didn't I help you?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Of course you did," Y/N said as she quickly turned toward me. "You helped me more than you know, Ty. If you weren't in that basement with me. . . I wouldn't have survived. You always help me."

"Good," I whispered, just now noticing how close we had gotten. My eyes glanced down at her lips, only thinking about what it would feel like to press mine to hers. Y/N sighed as she looked at the box.

"Y/N," I stopped her before she could step away from me. "Promise me that the next time you have a nightmare, you call me."

"I'm not going to call you, Tyler," I sighed. "My nightmares usually wake me up at, like, 3 am."

"I don't care, Y/N," I shook my head. "I want you to call me. No matter what time or how many times, I want you to call me so I can talk you down or come help you."

Y/N studied me as she asked, "You'd really do that? You'd really drive all the way to my apartment at 3 in the morning because of a silly nightmare?"

"It's not a silly nightmare," I said gently. "It's haunting you. And all I want is to help you."

"Tyler. . ." She stuttered.

"Promise me," I pushed. "Please?"

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. The longer I stared at her, the harder it was to hold my confession for another minute.

"Y/N. . ."

"Y/N! Did you find the box?" Her boss yelled.

"Yeah!" Y/N yelled back but her voice slightly cracked. "I found it. Bringing it up now."

"Wait," I said, grabbing her wrist before she could go back upstairs. "There's something I need to do. Something that I have been kicking myself in the ass for not doing sooner."

I heard Y/N gasp as I pulled her into my chest and kissed her. I felt everything slow down and my whole body relaxed as she kissed me back. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her even closer. She moaned as I gently bit her bottom lip. We broke apart, with matching cheeky smiles on our faces.

"Have you really been kicking yourself in the ass for not kissing me sooner?" Y/N asked, a small smirk forming on her face.

"Absolutely," I whispered. "You're my best friend, Y/N, but you mean more to me than you know. And I promise, whatever we face, whether it be a small rainstorm or horrible tornado, I will always keep you safe."

[kurogane2512]

Been having urges to write some wuwa fics after the recent quests and events, here's a little bit on Yinlin based on this interaction from the latest illusive realm😩

18+ CONTENT

Game: Wuthering Waves

Characters: Yinlin x gn!reader with a dick (Rover)

Type: Smut

After solving the crisis of the Somnium Labyrinth near the Whining Aix's Mire, you were back inside to defeat the remaining Tacet Discords and stabilize the Illusive Realm. The companions trapped by the labyrinth promised to help you for saving them, and you met one of them on the way after the crisis was solved.

"The crisis is over. Why are you still hanging around?" It was Yinlin, she was on her way to leave with others when she spotted you talking with the white cat and decided to wait.

"You are also still here, Yinlin..." you replied, making Yinlin chuckle.

"I'm ready to get back. There's more dirt getting swept under the rug outside. But, there is still one thing that's nagging me...."

Yinlin started to ponder with her gaze lowered, staring into empty space.

"When I screwed up, you... had my back. I didn't expect that." she mumbled under her breath before glancing at you.

"Hm? Are you okay, Yinlin?"

Yinlin then shook her head with a sigh, "It's nothing, just dream talk. Who's to say what's real. I don't screw up in real life."

You were confused but gave a smile nonetheless, "That's true. You are the best at what you do."

Yinlin smirked, "So, what do you plan to do now?"

"The white cat said there's still some Tacet Discords roaming inside the Somnoire so I'll head back after a while."

"Hmm, quite a hard worker, aren't you?~"

"It's nothing. I like to help."

Yinlin then stepped closer to you and leaned near your face, a light blush appearing on your cheeks from the closeness.

"Well, as thanks for helping me, here's a little gift that'll help you in the battles ahead~"

She held your right hand and grazed her fingers over your tacet mark before grabbing your Pangu Terminal and transferring something to it.

"Will you do me a favor in return? Once you finish up here, save some time for me in the real world, darling~" she whispered in a seductive voice, making you blush more.

"A-Ahem, I will. What did you give me, thou—" you asked while examining your terminal but Yinlin had vanished into thin air.

You let out a sigh and decided to focus on the Somnoire again, going back inside and engaging in various battles until you were told it was stable. While the battles weren't hard, you had become exhausted due to the constant fighting in a single day and wanted to get back to rest now. But you remembered your promise to Yinlin and didn't want to disappoint her, hence you decided it was better to finish up your meeting with her first.

It was nightime by the time you were back in Jinzhou city and weren't sure where to find Yinlin at this moment. You figured she would likely be in the outskirts rather than the city so went near Loong's Gaze Suburbs to look for her. This made you realize you didn't know where she lived, or if she even stayed in one place considering her job as a Secret Agent. You'd probably find her camping out more than staying in a proper house.

As you were walking, you suddenly felt some thin strings wrap around your body and before you could react, you were pulled back and pinned to a tree with the strings binding you to the trunk. You winced for a moment and tried to free yourself until you saw some sparks flicker on the strings and knew well enough who it was.

"Hehe, how many times will you fall for the same tricks, Rover?~" Yinlin whispered in your ear from behind the tree before walking around it to stand in front of you.

"I guess I just have my guard down around you."

"Hmm.... You trust me that much? What if I misuse you some day?~"

"I don't believe you will. Otherwise, you have had plenty of chances by now."

Yinlin smirked and glanced at you from head to toe, finding it adorable how you were pinned immovable in front of her. She then looked at some cuts and tears on your skin and clothes, realizing it was from all the fighting you did.

"That's true. You have won my trust unlike anyone so far...." she extended her hand to cup your face and lightly brushed her thumb across the cut on your cheek.

"So, what did you want to meet me for? And are you going to release me from these anytime soon...?"

She smiled and slid her hand down to your chest, "I quite like you in this position. It enables me to do anything I want. Not to mention, you are strong enough to free yourself~"

You nervously chuckled, "What do you have in mind?"

She smirked again and slid her hand further down your stomach now before stopping at your belt, fiddling with the buckle.

"Let me thank you for saving me today. Properly."

Your eyes widened, "Y-You don't need to, Yinlin. You already gave me that Echo which helped a lot in the battles and—!"

Before you could complete, Yinlin dropped to her knees and quickly unfastened your belt followed by undoing your pants. Your erection strained in your underwear as Yinlin grasped it, palming it around.

"It's not just that. You also arise some other feelings in me, strange feelings that I have never had before. I didn't think I was capable of such emotions, but you showed me I'm more human than I realize."

She then freed your shaft from your underwear, the tip hitting her lips as it bounced out and stood at full mast. Yinlin licked her lips and wrapped her hand around the base then started pumping it.

"My, already so hard for me. Seems your body needs some relief after all the work today~"

"Y-Yinlin, you don't have to—"

"I want to. Unless you don't want this, I'll stop."

She looked up at you and waited for your answer. You pursed your lips and simply nodded your consent, making her smile in return. She swiped her tongue across your tip while pumping with her hand and using her other hand to caress your sac. You groaned and threw your head back as you felt her mouth wrap around the head, her tongue constantly swirling around it.

"Mhm, you.... are quite big.... as expected...." Yinlin spoke in muffled words as she tried to swallow your shaft completely.

"Y-Yinlin... aah... you can take it...s-slow.... don't hurt yourself— ngh!~"

You sighed as she bobbed her head back n forth, her tongue lubricating every bit of your length and her lips sucking on the tip. Her warm breath sent shivers through your body, and the feeling of her wet mouth felt amazing. She moaned around your length as she sucked, one hand pumping the base while the other grasped your thigh as she tried to take you deeper. You gazed down at her sucking your cock and your eyes met her hooded ones, feeling a seductive glint in them which made you harder.

Yinlin felt your cock grow even bigger somehow, but she was still determined to take you in completely. Pre-cum dripped from your tip now and her tongue lubricated your shaft sufficiently then with a single push, she swallowed you to the base. You moaned as you felt her throat around your length, your hips involuntarily bucking to feel more. Yinlin hummed and sucked your cock more before pulling back and releasing it to breathe, a smirk painting her lips as she caught her breath.

"Well, do you like it so far? I may have not done this before but I'm quite confident judging by your reactions~"

"Hah.... yes, it's good.... I can't believe it's your first tim— ohhhh fuck!~" you were taken by surprise as Yinlin suddenly swallowed your cock again without warning, this time bobbing her head even faster than before.

"F-Fuck, Yinlin....! Slow down!~"

"Mm...no.... You are adorable.... w-when you react this way~"

Yinlin wasted no time to suck you hard, her tongue swirling around the tip to gather up your pre-cum. You could feel yourself hitting the back of her throat everytime she moved, making you come closer to release as you struggled to hold on.

"Hmm.... cum whenever you want to.... give it all to me~"

How could you hold back when she said that? You wished your arms were free so you fuck her mouth more, but you'd save that for another day. You instead bucked your hips in sync with her bobbing, getting the feel of fucking her throat and she also seemed to like it.

"C-Cumming, Yinlin.... there's a lot— Aaaah!~"

She felt your tip throb and immediately hilted to the base, swallowing you whole as you finally released deep inside her mouth. Yinlin's eyes rolled back as your hot and thick cum filled up her throat, her tongue working to lick every drop and not waste anything. Some cum dripped down her lips as she finally pulled back once you stopped, her chest heaving as she swallowed all of your load.

"You taste good and there's so much quantity; were you so pent up, darling?~"

"Haah... no... y-your mouth was too good...."

Yinlin chuckled then stood up and was about to undo the strings when she noticed your cock was still hard, essentially raring to go for more.

"Oh my, and you have impressive stamina too. As expected of Jinzhou's savior, hehe~"

"S-Sorry, uh... I'll take care of it myself. Thank you for that...."

You looked away in embarrassment while Yinlin seemed to ponder something, her eyes narrowing while looking at your throbbing erection.

"I suppose we should continue. You wouldn't leave me unsatisfied, would you, darling?~"

"Huh?! O-Of course, I wouldn't but.... shouldn't we move somewhere else?"

"Hm? You didn't seem to mind that when I was sucking you, how come now?"

"Uh, I don't want anyone else to see you that way...."

Yinlin's eyes almost widened in surprise but she held back and maintained her poker face. She then smirked and leaned closer to your face, her lips ghosting yours.

"For your eyes only, is it? I suppose I can trust you with that~"

She came even closer and you felt her lips on your neck as she kissed there before making more kisses all over your jaw. Your cock was settled between her thighs and grinded along as she moved to kiss you.

"Ngh... Y-Yinlin.... please, release my arms...."

"What are you going to do if I release you?"

"I want to touch you.... to hold you and pleasure you."

"Hehe, aren't you romantic? You should save such words for your lover~"

"I have no time for that.... but what I'm saying is the truth."

Yinlin almost felt her heart sink at your words, it was surprising to even her that she'd feel so disappointed. She never really thought about having a serious relationship either, she knew her work was too uptight for such things. Perhaps, moments like this was all she could have. And she'd rather have them with you than anyone else. She smiled and suddenly pressed her body against yours, caging you between herself and the tree.

"You are quite sly, Rover. How come none of the other women you know did this before me?~"

You blushed and didn't know how to answer, earning a chuckle from Yinlin who then stepped back and waved her fingers to undo the strings from around you. You sighed in relief as your body was finally free and you could stretch your arms, but Yinlin acted quicker and pulled you closer by your collar while she stepped back until she was pinned against a tree.

"I have high expectations of you, darling~"

A cacaphony of moans and grunts resounded in the forest. You had slipped off Yinlin's panties and held her against the tree with one leg pulled up as your cock thrusted in and out of her cunt. Her arms wrapped around your neck and your eyes gazed into each other as you fucked her, your breaths mingling before Yinlin leaned near your ear and embraced you. Her sultry voice moaned in your ear now, her breath tickling your lobe and the feeling of her warm and tight walls made you aroused to no end.

"Aah! Yes, just like that....! Oh, go deeper!~"

"Yinlin...! You feel so good— fuck!"

"Hehe then do it harder and faster! Show me, Rover! Engrave yourself into me!~"

Her words fueled you further as you picked up her other leg too and slammed deeper, her head falling back in ecstasy. Her legs locked around your waist in a tight hold and her walls clenched you tighter than before, essentially milking you dry. You thrusted faster and harder, burying yourself to the hilt and fucking her deepest parts. As a Secret Agent, Yinlin never imagined herself to lose in such desires outdoors, but there was no way she could resist you any longer.

You eventually turned her over and bent her against the trunk, pulling her hips close to shove inside once again. She mewled as you penetrated her deeply, her voice crying out the sweetest moans as you fucked like an animal in heat. Your thighs slapped against her hips, making erotic sounds accompanied by her moans. Your hands groped her butt before snaking around to touch her clit, her back arching as she felt your finger around it.

"Aaah! R-Rover! Yes! Yes! More.... give me more! Oh, gods! Fuck me and fill me with your seed!~"

Yinlin was mindlessly chanting her desires now, and you had every intention to fulfill them. You pulled her up and made her lean on the trunk while you pressed yourself flush against her back and kept ramming in and out. She arched back and rested her head on your shoulder as you kissed her nape and shoulders before burying your face in her neck and breathing in her scent.

"Oooh just like that! That's it, darling! Yes! I'm so close! Cum with me, darling!~"

You pinched and rubbed her clit with your thrusts, drawing her closer to release as you also couldn't hold back anymore. With a few more thrusts and skin slapping, you shoved forward and hilted all the way inside her as you finally released. She moaned out loud feeling your cum inside, then went breathless as you made her orgasm too. She almost fell limp as she came but you continued holding her, still filling her up with your seed.

You breathed out together once you finished releasing, she turned over and pressed her lips on yours while embracing you tightly. It was a deep and passionate kiss, one that she'd only do with her lover if she had one. But she was more than happy and satisfied with you for now.

"Aah... more, let's do more, Rover...." Yinlin husked after the kiss, and the feeling of your dick rising once again gave her all the answer she needed.

[slippinmickeys]

CHAPTER ONE (1/16):

Not far above the pavement of US-220, the forest dripped. The rain was gentle but steady, the highway as black and slick as a surfacing seal. Ahead, they could just make out the panning red and blue lights of a tangle of squad cars. The trees that edged the roadway pushed in and down, oppressive as low-hanging clouds. Beside her, Mulder sighed. 

They’d been awoken early by a call from a Sheriff three counties down and four over, who’d heard of Mulder by reputation. They had a body and a bit of a situation and would he and his partner come take a look? It was the first time that Scully had stayed over, and she’d felt embarrassed that she was there when the call came in though it wasn’t as though either of them had trumpeted her presence. She’d rolled out of bed and refused to meet his eye as he hung up on the Sheriff and dialed Skinner. 

Later, when he walked into his kitchen, dressed and shaven, he’d said, “Listen, Scully, if you regret what we’ve been—” 

“I don’t,” she interrupted him, handing him a steaming mug of coffee and finally bringing her eyes to his. “I don’t.” 

“Mea cuppa,” he’d said quietly, raising the brew to his lips. She’d been forced to smile at the pun.

It hadn’t been fair of her to seduce him, though it had been a glacial, intellectual courtship, inevitable, really, in every sense of the word. Mulder was tender-hearted and obsessive and after their second time together, she should have known that no amount of her stoicism or sense of workplace propriety would keep them from wanting to be together all the time. Last night, she’d had a foot out the door and was pushing him away with one hand and pulling him back with the other, his fingers tangled in her hair in rapacious bliss. 

They still weren’t sure how to be with each other, and that morning they’d walked down to Mulder’s car in a loaded, restless silence. 

Mulder eased up on the gas as they approached the cluster of khaki police cruisers and cut the windshield wipers. There were deputies leaning against hoods, wearing those ridiculous plastic rain beanies over their service caps and trying to appear important. Mulder pulled over, parking haphazardly on the berm, and looked out his window where a small inland lake spread out to the east and west, the body they’d come to investigate prostrate under a blue tarp on top of a thin strip of dark, mealy sand. 

They got out of the car and the Sheriff, holding a large black golf umbrella, pushed his way through his men, stepping up to Mulder and holding out a hand. 

“Thanks for coming,” the man said by way of greeting, and Mulder nodded toward him and introduced him to Scully.

“Call came in this morning,” the Sheriff said after trading introductions. “Dog walker found him.” He turned to one of the deputies, a younger man with blond eyebrows and a pixie-ish nose, freckles smattered over the bridge of it. “Avery, you got the file?”

Deputy Avery stepped forward. “Right here, sir,” the younger man said, handing over a beat up file folder—a brown, vintage-looking thing with a faux-wood finish. He gave the two agents a friendly smile and stepped back. 

Scully nodded at the folder now gripped in the Sheriff’s hand. “You got an ID?”

The Sheriff sort of shook his head and nodded at the same time. “That’s why we called you out,” he said, handing over the file. “No apparent cause of death,” he added as an afterthought. “Forensic unit out of Richmond are on their way.”

Mulder flipped the file open and read for a moment before looking back up. “Daly Carmichael. Missing persons?” The older man nodded, looking uncomfortable. “Must feel good to close such a cold case,” Mulder went on before looking back down at the paperwork. Scully leaned over to get a look at it. The victim was male, was in his early twenties when he’d gone missing in 1974, last seen wearing white sneakers and jeans and a yellow striped top.

“You’re confident of the identification?” she asked dubiously, ‘74 being a quarter of a century past.

The Sheriff swallowed. “There was no ID on the body, but…we’re pretty confident.”

Mulder flipped the file closed. “Let’s take a look,” he said. 

“Andy!” The Sheriff called out, and a deputy who had been standing near the tarp-covered body waved back. “Andy was first on scene,” he said to the two agents. 

Mulder noticed that when he and Scully began to pick their way down the embankment towards the small beach, none of the members of the sheriff’s department joined them.

As they approached, Mulder got a better look at Andy the deputy, who barely looked old enough to drive. It was likely he’d pulled corpse-sitting duties in an act of hazing. His arms were crossed over his chest while the walkie clipped to his shoulder gave a steady susurration of dispatch chatter. He gave off an air of indifference, but he was plowing through a stick of gum, working his tongue at it elaborately, snapping it nervously through his teeth. 

“What time did the call come in?” Scully asked, crouching down next to the body, her knees softly popping. 

“About six am,” he answered, then added, “ma’am.”

“Someone walking their dog, the sheriff said?” She lifted up a corner of the tarp to get a look at the victim’s face. Mulder watched as her eyebrows furrowed into a chevron of confusion.

The deputy nodded, continuing to gnaw on his gum, and hooked his thumbs through his shiny utility belt. 

Mulder noted pawprints and the shoe prints of the dog walker who’d found the body. The sand underneath them was damp, but firm, and showed only a few other prints, all of them looking to be standard police-issue. 

A couple of bright green leaves cartwheeled across the marks, propelled by a gust of wind, one of them briefly catching on the deputy’s shoe before going on its merry way.

“Did you examine the body?” Mulder asked him, finally looking up.

“There was no pulse, no ID on him,” the deputy replied. 

“How did you—”

“Hey Mulder?” There was a sharpness to her tone that made Mulder stop talking. “Can you take a look here?”

Scully peeled back the corner of the tarp, revealing a young-looking man with dark hair. He was dressed in jeans, white tennis shoes and a yellow striped tee shirt. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. Mulder glanced down at his hand, which was still holding the archaic looking missing persons file. “Huh,” he said. Scully reached up and touched his wrist, finding his pulse suddenly beating rabbit-quick. 

“If you don’t mind,” the deputy said, clearing his throat. “I’m going to…” He hooked a thumb up toward the rest of his compatriots and beat a hasty retreat.

“Those clothes don’t look twenty years old,” Mulder said. 

“Twenty-six,” Scully corrected, still hunched close to the ground. “Can I see the file?” Mulder handed it over without a word, and Scully flipped through it quickly, her eyes scanning the contents. 

“This can’t be right,” she said.  

Mulder shrugged. “Let’s ignore that particular elephant in the room, and see what else we find,” he suggested, and gave Scully a moment to collect her thoughts. “What can you tell me about the body?”

Scully turned back to the victim in front of them.

“Lividity isn’t fixed. Temperature is more difficult with the weather and exposure. I’ll have a better idea on the time of death after the autopsy.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, the victim appears to be male. Cursory examination, I’d say he’s early twenties, if that.” With this, she shot him a look. “No obvious cause of death, though I suspect drowning. He’s on the shore. His clothes are wet.”

“It has been raining,” Mulder said, snapping on a pair of latex gloves that he’d produced from his pocket. He leaned down and started unlacing the man’s shoes. 

“Mulder, we should wait until the forensics unit can come in and process the scene.” 

“I just want to check something, before the rain gets any worse,” he said, and carefully removed the victim’s shoe. He pointed to the top of the man’s foot. “Look,” he said, and Scully had to bend down to look at what he was trying to show her. The sock on top of the man’s foot was dry. He hadn’t been submerged in the lake. 

Mulder carefully put the shoe back on, and moved to reach inside the man’s pockets. 

“The deputy said there was no ID on him,” Scully reminded him. 

“I want to know what else is in here,” Mulder said, and pulled his hand back, producing several gold coins and a small dark rock.

He flipped them all over in his rubber-covered palm. “Odd markings,” he observed, looking at the coins. 

Scully leaned in to look. There were faces on the coins, but not the profiles of presidents or queens or even Caesars. They were clearly old, the etchings worn down, but she could still make out faces; some laughing, some looking angry, one wearing a crown of leaves and looking ghoulish. “I don’t see a country of origin,” she said. “They could be archaic. Maybe he was a collector.”

Mulder gave her a sideways glance but didn’t reply. The rain had turned to more of a mist and was curling the hair around her face, lending her beauty a neoclassical verve. He had to stop himself from reaching out to touch it.

“What’s the rock?” Scully asked, reaching forward to graze it lightly with her finger. 

“I think,” Mulder said, squinting at it. “I think it’s an ingot of iron.”

Mulder looked up and out around the lake and trees that surrounded it. There were no waves to speak of, but above the water was a line of algae in an undulating, unending rope, lying along the sand where the water had pushed it when the wind was stronger. The shore was dotted with round, smooth stones and the sharp carapaces of invasive zebra mussels. Twenty yards beyond the body, Mulder could see a child’s abandoned plastic bucket with no handle, and closer to the corpse, a beer bottle with a faded orange label. The hem of the forest looked impenetrable, the edge a solid mass of thick cedar and bracken with one small opening due east of where they stood, as dark and forbidding as the mouth of a cave. Mulder gave an involuntary shudder and turned back to his partner. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to her. “Let’s talk about the elephant.”

“Our victim appears not to have aged since 1974,” Scully sighed. 

“My kind of case,” Mulder smiled.

“Our kind,” she corrected, which widened his grin considerably. 

“What do you know about the fae, Scully?”

Good Christ, he had a theory already, Scully thought. 

“Probably a whole lot less than I will five minutes from now,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and settling in. After a moment, she realized he was waiting for her to actually answer, but she was having none of it; she knew the precise trajectory of his thoughts. “You think this man was taken by fairies, Mulder? That’s a stretch, even for you.”

“It’s been suggested that fairies live in dimensions parallel to our own. String theory posits that there are up to ten or eleven dimensions that exist in the universe, not just the four we humans experience. We can move within those four dimensions. Who’s to say other beings can’t move among more? Or move us with them?”

“So this man hasn’t aged because he went to live with the fairies? Mulder, string theory smooths out the mathematical inconsistencies that currently exist between quantum mechanics and the theory of relativity. Yes, there may be other dimensions we can’t see, but time—one of those dimensions that we can measure—only moves one way: forward.”

“Doesn’t the theory of relativity posit that time slows when you’re moving faster than the speed of light?” Scully heaved a sigh. Only Mulder would pick a physics fight with her. “Eminent theosophist E. L. Gardner likened fairies to butterflies, whose function was to provide an essential link between the energy of the sun and the plants of Earth. They would travel between. He claimed that growth of a plant which we regard as the customary and inevitable result of associating the three factors of sun, seed, and soil would never take place if, and I quote ‘the fairy builders were absent.’”

“Please don’t tell me that you’re about to suggest that fairies are actually aliens. And that they’ve found a way to travel faster than the speed of light.”

“You said it, not me.” 

“Mulder!”

“What?” 

“Little gray men are a far cry from ethereal sprites who use protective charms and mischievously lead travelers astray. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I’m not trying to have it any way, I’m merely suggesting avenues of inquiry lining up with the facts of the case as we have them. Anyway, Gardner described fairies as having no clean-cut shape but rather ‘small, hazy, and somewhat luminous clouds of color with a brighter sparkish nucleus.’”

“You’re describing a proton.”

“So was he,” Mulder shrugged. “But taking away the strange coins and the ingot of iron—historically believed to repel fairies, I might add—how do you account for the fact that this man hasn’t aged in over twenty years?”

“Good genes?”

“The only person I know with genes that good is you. And don’t you have Celtic forebears?”

Scully blushed. It wasn’t fair, flirting. Their relationship was new, and their romance improbable.

Mulder threw a look up to the local law enforcement leaning against their vehicles and watching them work. He reached out and squeezed Scully’s hand once. She looked at him with the same kind of embarrassed moue as when a stranger's dog sticks its nose in your crotch.

“I know this is hard for you,” he said, his voice low. 

“It’s fine,” she said, an old safeword. 

He remembered her sitting in her bed in the oncology ward, small and slight, as withered as a new chick emerging from a shell. Her eyes had been sunken and her small shoulders stuck out from beneath the hospital gown like wire coat hangers. I feel fine , she’d said. 

Mulder felt her skin’s warmth before releasing her hand and he walked over to the bottle of beer, picking it up and turning it so that he could read the label. “Huh,” he said, holding it up so that Scully could see it. “Oberon.”

“What?”

“The kind of beer. Bell’s Brewery. It’s called ‘Oberon.’”

“The king of the fairies?” Scully said dubiously. 

Mulder shrugged once again, and she sighed. “Leave it where it is,” she said, casting another glance at the local boys in brown. “Let the forensics unit bag it.”

A big blue van had just pulled up behind their fleet sedan. The team from Richmond had arrived.

Mulder set the bottle carefully back down where he found it. When he straightened, he looked towards the forest and could have sworn that the hole through the bracken of the woods looked bigger than it had a few minutes before. He took a few steps toward it.

“Mulder?” called out his partner. 

“I just want to check something out,” he called over his shoulder without looking back. 

The forest was restless, the tops of the trees agitated and shivering. 

A thought occurred to him and he turned around. “You want to come with me?” 

The look she gave him communicated quite clearly that she did not, but she turned to follow him nonetheless, another sigh passing between her lips in a steamy vapor. 

“Look,” she said, pointing forward toward the trees when she reached his side. “There are footprints coming out.”

Mulder peered down. Sure enough, there was one set of human footprints leading from the dark opening, the edges of the prints crumbly and ill defined from the rain. 

They traded a glance and went in.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 102)

Welding while three days overdue in a pregnancy is hard Uzi realized.

The inside of the shuttle was warm enough that the wind and weather outside wasn't something to worry about, but the amount of strain the baby was putting on her internals was slowing her down heavily.

Even still… it was almost finished.

All that was left was the internals, the controls and the little bit of air they needed to cool their systems. And it would be ready.

And so right now she was putting in the cramped recharge pods that would be the bulk of the inside, small little upright beds that filled the function of a place to rest and…not much else.

When space is at a premium, it would have to do.

Khan was working on the airlock, big, steel hydrologic doors. His expertise. So they were nearly working side by side.

Uzi stretched upwards to reach the ceiling from the step ladder she was using,sealing up a messily managed cluster of wires within a tube of aluminum. And then doubled over in pain.

She made a wince and a squeak and held her expanded abdomen as a wave of pain shot through her.

Khan was on her in an instant, taking one of her hands in his own and helping her off the stepladder.

“Uzi! Are you alright? Is the baby-”

“N-no! No. Just uh… just them kicking me in the stomach. Ow…” She calmed him. “I almost wish…”

Khan still held her and made her sit in one of the incomplete charge pods, checking her over.

“I'm fine. Dad.” She almost laughed, but it turned into another wince as the baby proceeded to kick the shit out of her insides once more.

“Agh…”

“Maybe you should sit the rest of the construction out dronelette… you need rest.”

“What I need is to get this done. This was my plan and it needs to work and-” She struggles to get out of the pod, legs kicking our uselessly.

“And you have been every single day you have been able. It's just finishing touches, then we start packing what we can.”

Uzi crossed her arms in a huff.

“I don't wanna be useless.”

“No offense dronelette, but I think your body has more say about that then your mouth.” He smiles sheepishly, gesturing to the fact she couldn't even get out of a shallow pod by herself.

“Bite me.”

He laughed and helped her out of the pod, not letting go until both her feet were on the ground and she was steady on them.

“Where's N? Still on patrol?” He asks, hand still on her back.

“Yeah, he'll be out for awhile…”

“I gotcha.” He peered out the door, flagging down somebody.

“Nico! Can I borrow you for a minute?” He shouted, at the purple eyelighted door gaurd, who was deep in conversation with his partner.

“Aye sir!” He rushed over with a lopsided grin. Goggles bouncing on his head.

“Can you lead my daughter back to her apartment for me?” Khan asks, smiling happily at the young man.

“Dad! I can walk on my own!” Uzi protested, but it went in one ear and out the other.

“Sí Mr. Doorman.” Nico replied, getting into place at Uzi's side despite her indignant grumbles.

“Thank you, Varga.” Khan grinned, before heading back inside the ship. Nico and Uzi look at each other.

“After you senora?”

“I'm not that much older then you…” Uzi smirked, raising her eyebrow. And Nico just laughed.

“Hehe… I'm just being polite.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “You snapped at me for my manners once.”

“Huh?” Uzi wracked her brain. “Oh! Were you the same guy who was staring at Tera when she was a pillbaby?”

They began to walk, passing through the doors of the bunker.

“Guilty. Forgive me? Por favor? I was just surprised… you never struck me as someone who wanted kids, at least… at the time.” He grinned.

“I think I was just in a bad mood that day. I was getting lots of stares.” Uzi admitted, feeling a little self conscious.

“Lo siento, aren't you always in a bad mood?”

“Hey!” She snarled as they passed by several residential doors, before she deflated and smiled. “I guess you're not wrong.”

He laughed again. It sounded… familiar somehow.

“If dad's gonna have you tail me, I need to pick up my daughter from a freinds house before I head home.” She spoke, and at her words, his smile seemed to get a little pained.

“Of course. It's Tera right?” He asked, cocking his head. “How… is she?”

“Tera? You mean other then destroying everything soft she can get her fangs on? She's great, she's so energetic, she's a little hard to keep track of.”

He smiles, then looks confused. “Fangs?”

Uzi looks guilty, looking away from him.

“That's… my fault. My oil is… uh, effected by a condition…” She shows him a flash of her own fangs. “And I didn't realize it was contagious that way until it was too late.’

Nico furrows his brow, Uzi mistakes his concern for judgement. “It doesn't seem to effect her negatively! She's happy and healthy, it's just… she'll look different, is all.”

Nico nods once. “I wasn't judging.”

“So long as she is happy, I don't think anyone will judge. You took her in when… no one else wanted to, or could.”

“If no one has thanked you yet. Let me be the first.” He smiles, for once it seems to go up to his visor. “Gracias, Miss Doorman.”

“Uh… you're welcome?” She returns a confused smile as they stop in front of a door that reads “von Roth”.

Nico nods again before coughing and pulling out a little military canteen, taking a swig of it.

Uzi looks at him curiously.

“Ah, software issue… I go through coolant like my abuelo did battery acid! Hehe.”

Uzi nods, satisfied with his answer before knocking on the door with three quick raps.

A drone with light blue eyelights answers the door with a beaming smile. “Oh! Mrs Doorman! You're here to pick up Tera yes?” His accent is slightly Italian, and he smells slightly of fermented oil.

“That's right.”

“I'm Jason! Nice to meet ya!” He shakes her hand firmly. “My Flower’s getting her now. What a good kid you have, treats my daughter like a princess!”

“Uh, thank you Jason.” Uzi says awkwardly.

Delilah pops her head put under his arm, and he chuckles before moving out of the way for her.

“Hi Uzi! Here she is!”

Tera is handed to her… with a big fat purple bow tied up in her hair and forced into a little grey dress.

She looks defeated. Looking up at her mother with eyes that pray ‘please help me.’

“Oh God! What happened to you!?” Uzi smiled, incredibly amused at Tera's deadpan expression.

“Dress up.” Tera answers, as Delilah squeals.

“Look how adorable she looks! Though it was a lot of effort to get her in that dress…” She shows off the tiny scratches on her hands.

considering that Tera resisted being dressed in anything. The fact the Delilah was not in worse shape was astonishing.

“I'd say… Thank you for watching her.”

“Oh, no problem! She's a sweetheart, any time you need!” Delilah answers, before her husband pulls her into a little head nuzzle.

“Absolutely! Kiara needs more freinds like her!” He waves as Nico and Uzi move off, Tera crossing her arms in indignation.

“Not a fan of the dress chica?” Nico asks with an amused look.

“No.” Tera answers, shaking her head and pouting in her mother's arms. It's not until she does the toddler equivalent of a double take that she notices him and stares, cocking her head.

“Heh, Heya kiddo.” He smiles, face soft. Uzi raises a brow.

“Hi! Like you!” She says immediately, beginning to vibrate. “Name?”

“Ah. Nico.” He replies.

“Hi Nico!” She replies back, grinning visor seam to visor seam. Forgetting for a moment all about her distaste for the dress she was in.

But… too quickly, Uzi was at her door, and it was time to say goodbye.

“Thanks for walking with me. It was nice, even if my dad made you.”

“Don't mention it. You both take care, sí?” He cocked his head.

“Bye Nico!” Tera hollered, waving with all her might. And then; “Adiós!”

Uzi blinked. “Where did you learn-”

Nico was gone very, very quickly.

Who knew languages were inheritable?

[misaerabl]

Backbeat

band guitarist (kinda a loser) ellie x reader

MINORS AND MEN DNI / word count: 3.6k words

SUMMARY: Ellie, a shy guitarist in a local band, has been harboring a quiet crush on you, a barista who works at her favorite café. Despite her growing feelings, she struggles to express them. As the band's upcoming gig approaches, Ellie grapples with her emotions and finally gathers the courage to invite you to the show. WARNINGS: uhm none I guess... (SFW) A/N: leaning more into the format of "Feeding The Fire"

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The café was bustling as usual, the clink of cups and the hum of conversation filling the air. You wiped down the counter, your movements steady and practiced, as you glanced over to the usual spot where Ellie and her band sat. She was there again, like clockwork, though today she was being uncharacteristically quiet. You noticed how her fingers drummed lightly on the table, her gaze flickering over the menu, even though she knew exactly what she wanted.

It was then that Jesse, the band’s outspoken and confident guitarist, leaned across the table, his voice loud enough to cut through the noise. "Come on, Ellie," he teased, his grin wide, "you’ve been coming here for months, and you still haven’t even said more than, what—'I'll have a coffee'?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her shyness.

Ellie’s face flushed, her eyes flicking to you behind the counter before quickly averting her gaze. "Shut up, Jesse," she muttered, her voice quiet, though her discomfort was evident in the way she tugged at the sleeve of her jacket, a nervous habit.

Jesse leaned back, clearly not backing down. "No, seriously. You’ve got a thing for the barista, don’t you?" His voice was louder now, and Ellie’s face went even redder. She didn’t answer, but the way she avoided looking at you gave her away.

The bandmates around them laughed, but Jesse’s teasing wasn’t over. "You’re practically obsessed with this girl. I swear, you could probably recite her coffee order by heart by now. How many times have you been here this week alone?"

Ellie didn’t reply. She kept her focus on the table, fiddling with the napkin holder like it was the most interesting thing in the world. You could see the mix of embarrassment and something else—something deeper—as her fingers drummed the table lightly, a subtle, rhythmic pulse that seemed to mirror the quiet beat of her heart.

Jesse, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting, nudged Ellie’s shoulder. "Come on, admit it. You’re too shy to talk to her. You’ve got the biggest crush, and you're not doing a damn thing about it."

Ellie shot him a glare, but it was more out of habit than any real anger. She couldn’t deny it. She was smitten, but she’d never admit it out loud, at least not yet.

"She’s just a barista, Jesse," Ellie mumbled, but even her words were tinged with uncertainty.

Jesse, sensing the vulnerability beneath Ellie’s tough exterior, grinned wider. "A barista you keep staring at every time she walks by. Yeah, sure." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a teasing whisper. "What’s it gonna take to get you to talk to her? Or are you just gonna keep letting her serve you coffee in silence?"

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tapping against the table again, almost like a rhythm she couldn’t quite control. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Come on," Jesse pushed. "Don’t let your chance slip away."

Ellie bit her lip, her gaze flicking over to you once more as you moved behind the counter, oblivious to the conversation unfolding. She felt that familiar flutter in her chest, the kind that always hit her when she saw you. But it wasn’t enough to make her act. Not yet. Not today.

"Maybe next time," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Next time? You’ve been saying that for months." He nudged her again, and with a defeated sigh, Ellie slumped back in her chair, her thoughts tangled in the rhythm of her own unspoken feelings—her own backbeat.

Echoes of You

The soft hum of the world outside drifted through the window, but inside her room, Ellie’s focus was all on the quiet stirrings in her chest. The walls were lined with posters of bands she loved, her bed a mess of scattered clothes and guitar picks. The dim light from the lamp beside her flickered gently as she lay back, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Her mind wandered to you—the barista with the gentle smile and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you greeted her, even though she barely spoke beyond her usual order. There had been something about you from the first time she stepped into the café, but now, with each passing visit, that something had grown, unspoken and undeniable.

She could still hear Jesse’s teasing voice in her head. “You’re just a shy little mess, Ellie. Just talk to her already.”

But it wasn’t that simple. How could it be? Every time she walked into that café, she felt her pulse race, her nerves jittery as if everything—her heart, her words, her courage—might suddenly slip through her fingers.

Ellie closed her eyes, the sound of her breathing deep and slow as she tried to center herself. But there you were again, your face lingering in the back of her mind. And in the quiet of her room, she couldn’t escape it. The rhythm of her thoughts was there, pulsing in her veins, like the backbeat she always felt when playing her guitar.

She sat up abruptly, her hands reaching for the instrument resting against the corner of her bed. The familiar weight of it felt comforting in her arms, grounding her in the moment. She began to strum absently, her fingers moving across the strings in a rhythm that was both calming and restless at once.

A quiet hum escaped her lips, something soft, something simple. It was a melody she’d been carrying with her for days now—just fragments, nothing complete. But it was all about you. In every chord, in every note, she could hear the undercurrent of her feelings—soft, but always there, steady, like a pulse beneath the music.

She let the melody fill the space around her, her thoughts drifting in and out as she let her hands move freely. Her voice followed, hesitant at first, then growing more certain. She wasn’t singing the words out loud—no, this was something much quieter, more intimate. It was the kind of song she’d been afraid to admit existed within her, let alone express.

The song took shape slowly, a kind of confession written not in words, but in notes. A simple tune, nothing grand, nothing flashy, just the truth she couldn’t bring herself to speak aloud.

You don't even know, but you make my heart beat slow... Every time you smile, it's like I'm running wild... I don’t know how to say it, but I think you might be it...

She paused, her fingers still on the strings, but the hum of the song had stopped. The silence in the room felt heavy now, almost as if the song had unlocked something inside her that she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

The truth of it hit her then—she was writing a song about you. She had known it all along, but it was like the words on the page had made it real.

She bit her lip, the guitar resting in her lap now, her mind spinning. She wasn’t sure where it would go from here, or even if it would ever reach you. But there was something in the backbeat of the song, something deep and raw, that she couldn’t ignore anymore.

Ellie stood up from the bed, the song still echoing in her ears as she walked over to her desk. She grabbed her notebook and began to write the lyrics down. Her handwriting was messy, like her thoughts, but it was hers. It was real.

“Maybe one day, you’ll hear it,” she whispered to the empty room, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Inviting the Rhythm

It was a quiet afternoon at the café, the usual midday rush having come and gone. You leaned against the counter, a soft tune playing from the café’s speakers as you wiped down a cup. There wasn’t much left to do, but you didn’t mind the calm. Your thoughts, however, wandered back to Ellie.

You hadn’t seen her yet today, but you knew she’d be here. It had become a familiar rhythm—Ellie would show up, usually with her bandmates, take her usual seat, and quietly sip her coffee while they chatted amongst themselves. But today, there was a shift in the air, something different. You didn’t know what, but you felt it.

And then you saw her. She walked in, but instead of heading straight to the table where she always sat, she hesitated by the door, as if weighing something. Her hands were shoved into her jacket pockets, her eyes flicking around the room nervously. It wasn’t like Ellie to come in alone.

You felt a pang of curiosity. It wasn’t lost on you that Ellie had been coming in for months now, but you never really had a conversation. Not a real one, anyway. You had always wondered why she kept coming, but every time you tried to make small talk, she clammed up, giving you short answers before retreating back into the comfort of her bandmates.

Today was different, though. She finally made her way to the table, but instead of sitting with the rest of the band, she pulled out a chair and sat by herself. The usual upbeat chatter from her bandmates was absent. Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the table, her fingers tapping in that familiar, anxious rhythm.

You made your way over, wiping your hands on your apron as you approached her table.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted with a warm smile. "You’re alone today. What’s up?"

Ellie looked up at you, and for a split second, her expression was unreadable. There was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes, something you hadn’t seen before. Her fingers, which had been tapping on the table, stilled as she fidgeted with the napkin holder.

“Uh, yeah,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “The others are, uh, running late... or something. I... I thought I’d come early.” She quickly glanced at her phone, avoiding your gaze again.

You nodded, trying to keep the conversation light. "Cool. You don’t usually come in alone. Everything good with the band?"

Ellie shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable, but she managed a small nod. "Yeah, everything’s fine. Just... needed a change of scenery today."

You leaned against the table, giving her space but also wanting to know more. "Well, you know, you're always welcome here. If you need a place to think... or just get away."

Ellie met your eyes for a moment, and there was something about the way her gaze softened that made your heart skip. For a second, you thought she might say something—something more than just her usual shy smile or quick one-liner—but the words stayed locked behind her lips.

The silence stretched, and Ellie’s fidgeting resumed, her fingers tapping lightly on the table again.

"So... are you still coming to our gig on Friday?" Ellie suddenly asked, her voice steadying as she looked up at you.

You blinked, taken off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. "Uh, yeah, I was planning on it," you replied, a little surprised. You’d heard about the gig from the band, but hearing Ellie mention it specifically made your stomach flutter. "Why?"

Ellie swallowed, her fingers still tapping nervously. "Well... I, uh... wanted to... you know, invite you. It’s not... it’s not just for the band or anything. Just... thought you might want to come."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if you were hearing her right. She seemed so different today, more vulnerable, less guarded than usual. "You’re inviting me? Just me?" you asked, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Ellie flushed, looking away quickly. "I mean... yeah," she muttered, "if you want to come. I—I’ll be playing, and... you could hear us. Just... don’t make it weird." She winced as soon as the words left her mouth, clearly regretting the awkwardness that had already settled between you.

You couldn’t help but smile at her shyness. "Of course, I’ll come," you said warmly, trying to ease the tension. "I wouldn’t miss it."

Ellie relaxed a little, the smallest smile curving her lips. "Great," she whispered. "I’ll... see you there."

You nodded, still caught off guard by her sudden openness, but something in her voice told you that this was more than just a casual invitation. There was a quiet hope beneath the words—Ellie was finally letting down her walls, even if it was just a little.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You knew this gig was going to be more than just music—it would be the start of something, a rhythm that would soon be impossible to ignore.

The Song in the Silence

The crowd buzzed with excitement as Ellie’s band played through their set, each song building momentum with the kind of raw energy only a live performance could bring. You stood near the back of the club, nestled between the sea of people, your eyes fixed on Ellie. Tonight, she was different—her nervousness was replaced by an undeniable confidence. Her guitar was like an extension of her, and with every strum, her entire body seemed to resonate with the music.

You had seen Ellie around the café countless times, shy, awkward, and always hiding behind her guitar when you’d run into her. But up on stage, she was a different person. There was a power in the way she played—her fingers gliding across the strings with ease, her posture commanding the space. Every song seemed to have a part of her, but it was the last one that caught your attention the most.

The band was playing their final song, and the vibe in the club shifted, the energy growing electric. Ellie was playing rhythm guitar this time, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the music. Her bandmates—Jesse on bass, Dina on lead vocals—were fully immersed, their music echoing through the venue. But every time you glanced at Ellie, she was slightly more distant, her focus intense as if she was preparing for something.

The song’s outro built slowly, and you could feel the anticipation hanging in the air like a held breath. Then, in a moment of stillness, Ellie leaned over to Dina, whispering something too quiet for you to hear. Dina, the lead singer, nodded in response, a sly smile tugging at her lips. The band finished the instrumental portion, and the crowd fell into an expectant silence.

Dina stepped up to the mic, her usual confidence now laced with a playful excitement. "Alright, folks, this next one’s a special one. You’ve been hearing a lot of us tonight, but now we’re gonna switch things up," she said, her voice carrying through the room.

You watched as Ellie adjusted the strap of her guitar, standing slightly straighter, her posture giving away a hint of nervousness. It was a different side of her, one you hadn't seen before. The music was still alive in her body, but something else lingered in the air.

Dina continued, a mischievous grin on her face. "Ellie’s gonna take over for this last one. Let’s show her some love!"

The crowd cheered, a wave of applause rippling through the room. Ellie looked out into the crowd, her expression a mix of surprise and nervousness, but she nodded as if steeling herself for something big.

She took a deep breath and, with one last glance at her bandmates, her voice came through the mic—not yet, but the promise was there. The beginning of a song. But this wasn’t just any song—it was different. You could feel it in the air.

The first notes rang out, and Ellie’s fingers moved deftly on her guitar, filling the space with the familiar chords of the song. Her eyes were fixed on the neck of the guitar as she played, but there was a shift—a subtle, almost imperceptible change. It wasn’t just the song; it was the feeling behind it, the energy that swelled in the room, pulling everyone’s focus.

And then, Ellie began to sing.

Her voice was soft at first, hesitant, but each word carried an intimacy that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just the lyrics—it was the emotion she put into them. As the chorus hit, the raw vulnerability in her voice reached deep into the pit of your stomach.

You didn’t know it yet, but the song was about you.

Ellie’s eyes flickered to you from the stage, and for a fleeting second, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in her gaze—something that was always there, but hidden behind the awkwardness and the shyness. The song was her confession, wrapped in the melody, hidden in the lyrics, as if she had poured everything she couldn’t say into the notes and words.

The crowd swayed, caught up in the music, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from Ellie. The way she held herself now, the way she sang the song with a quiet desperation—like she was telling a secret only you could hear.

When the song ended, there was a brief moment of silence, followed by an eruption of applause. But you couldn’t focus on the crowd or the noise. You were still caught in the intensity of Ellie’s performance, her eyes finding yours once again, lingering for a moment longer than usual.

She set her guitar down with a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping as she stepped back from the mic. The room felt different, as if the weight of her confession still hung in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

Dina was the first to break the silence, her voice light and teasing. "See? Told you she could do it. Ellie, you were amazing!"

Ellie didn’t answer at first, just looking down at her guitar. It was clear she was embarrassed—maybe even overwhelmed by the act of putting her feelings into that song. But for the first time, you saw her vulnerability laid bare, not in awkward moments or shy smiles, but through the very thing she loved most—her music.

The applause around you blurred as you finally allowed the truth to sink in. Ellie had just sung her heart out, and somehow, you knew it was for you.

The Confession in the Chords

The applause faded into a hum of conversations and clinking glasses as the band began packing up their gear. You lingered near the back of the club, unsure if you should stay or leave. Something about that last song tugged at you, lingering in the air like the final notes of a melody refusing to let go.

Ellie was still on stage, carefully coiling her guitar cable. Her usual awkward energy was back—head down, shoulders hunched—so different from the confident girl who had just sung her heart out. Jesse nudged her, whispering something that made Ellie shoot him a glare before he laughed and hopped off the stage, leaving her alone.

You hesitated, then made your way closer. By the time you reached the edge of the stage, Ellie had packed her guitar into its case but hadn’t moved. She looked up as you approached, her green eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Hey," you said, your voice louder than intended over the buzz of the room.

Ellie blinked, then gave a small, shy smile. "Hey."

There was an awkward pause, the kind that usually made you uncomfortable, but now it felt charged, like there was something more waiting to be said. You broke the silence first. "You were amazing tonight."

Ellie ducked her head, her cheeks tinting pink. "Thanks. I—uh—didn’t expect you to actually come."

"Why wouldn’t I? You invited me," you replied with a small laugh. "And I’m glad I did. That last song..." You trailed off, searching for the right words. "It felt... personal."

Ellie froze for a second, her hand gripping the edge of her guitar case. "Yeah, uh..." She glanced around, as if looking for an escape route, then sighed and looked back at you. "It was."

You tilted your head, curious. "Who’s it about?"

She rubbed the back of her neck, her gaze darting everywhere but at you. "That’s, uh... kind of a long story."

"I’ve got time," you teased gently, crossing your arms.

Ellie finally met your eyes, her expression a mix of vulnerability and determination. "It’s about someone who makes me feel like I’m stuck in the background, like... like I don’t know how to say the things I want to say when they’re around."

Your heart skipped a beat at the weight in her words. "Ellie..."

She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides. "It’s about you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words hit like a drumbeat, steady and sure.

The world seemed to blur around you, the noise of the club fading into a distant hum. Ellie’s gaze didn’t waver now, her earlier shyness replaced by a quiet resolve.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. But then you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. "I guess I should feel honored," you said, your tone light, though your voice betrayed your emotions.

Ellie chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her head. "Or creeped out. I don’t know—maybe both?"

"No, not creeped out," you assured her, your smile widening. "Not even a little."

Her shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as she let out a relieved laugh. "Good. I was kinda terrified you’d think I was a weirdo."

"Well, you are," you teased, your grin turning playful. "But I think I like that about you."

Ellie’s mouth opened slightly, as if to respond, but instead, she let out another laugh, this one softer, more genuine. "Guess I can live with that."

For the first time, the silence between you felt easy, comfortable. The noise of the club returned, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, the backbeat of unspoken feelings that had been building for so long finally found its melody, and it was yours to share.

[grison-in-space]

Matilda continues to be incredibly useful anywhere I am sat "at rest" for any length of time and might get caught up in a hyperfixation. I haven't been posting a lot because she and Tribble have been on crate and rotate since August while Tribble's cognitive dysfunction syndrome (doggy dementia) renders her prone to sobbing in agonized sorrow if she's left in any room without company. It's only relatively recently that I've worked out a schedule that seems to be working in terms of when Matilda can be available when I need the support while also giving Tribble time with me.

But it continues to be really helpful to have Matilda act as a physical activator (cued or uncued) and hyperfixation interrupter. She is a more pleasant way of anchoring my brain in the passage of time than any alarm I've ever encountered, because she is aware that the capture of my attention means that I will reward her and the more gently she picks up my attention the more pleased I will be. She offers DPT when someone seems distressed while sitting down, sometimes by force. She settles nicely in an office environment (albeit on my office couch) and she handles strange experiences by freezing, inspecting the situation, and trusting that if possible I will let her tap out.

She walks about a mile a day in a loose heel whenever she is in public (anywhere that she is not inside my office, home, or car) and is increasing in professionalism over squirrels and the ubiquitous wild turkeys around my office. She is getting better at that even when they have the temerity to ignore her, shout at her, chase each other, and make horrible noises. She can handle scary echoey staircases, stairs you can see through, public bathrooms, vending machines, and weird rattly construction equipment she might have to walk over. (There was a temporary ramp on the way to campus for a while, and this winter saw a lot of construction.)

Even the dog reactivity is leveling off with maturity and self control. We are rapidly approaching the point where I'll start thinking about actual public access training without worrying about a very vocal outburst at another dog. I don't actually need her in public so often, but it would be nice to, e.g., run into the Costco pharmacy to get meds on my way home sort of thing without worrying about leaving her in the car. Run small errands. That sort of thing. She does handle stores nicely on the occasions we have tested.

I recently bought a car that my spouse had identified and insisted I come test drive. I made a mistake and locked my keys in my office on my way home to meet spouse before going to the dealership; we pivoted so that they came and picked me up, and we just went to the dealership. Matilda hung out in our car during the five minute test drive, then came out and joined us while hanging out in the dealership while negotiating the price of the car for the next two or three hours on a series of "settles." (She does not care for waiting in public, but she's willing to lie down and settle down with minimal interaction from me for a very long time.)

I may have to go visit Joanns and the Sierra Trading Club and Magus & Quinn booksellers a bit more moving forward. The horror!

Nice job, baby dog. I'm proud of you.