#and i look in people’s windows is sincerely growing on me

[veilxstars]

Arjun noticed Ori's hesitation and the way he pushed the menu away, his concern growing. The soft furrow of Ori’s brow didn't escape him, and it made something tight form in his chest. Granted - it was early in the morning. This was not the best time for breakfast and not everyone ate like a horse like Arjun did.

“You’re worried about it, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, watching Ori. “I know you have your reasons but you push yourself so hard." Arjun’s gaze softened, but he tilted his head, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at his lips as he raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you’ll help me work off all this breakfast? I can't run. Hell - putting on pants is an effort most mornings - but if you have any suggestions - I can do chair dancing, as long as I don't move from the chair. A little extra exercise never hurt anyone, right?” He tried to keep his tone light, but there was a clear undertone of concern in his words, the offer an attempt to ease Ori’s mind. Plus - a little exercise could hurt Arjun ... a lot.

But he made them offer and then quieted, so he could listen as Ori spoke, taking in the sincerity of his words. When Ori reached out to touch his hand, Arjun couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, something that had become foreign to him in recent years. It was a gesture he rarely received from anyone, and in a way, it felt both comforting and disarming.

He gave a small, knowing smile at Ori’s apology, grateful for the empathy, but he didn’t let the moment linger long. He had learned not to dwell on things that were out of his control, even if part of him had never truly found peace with it. “I suppose some people just... don’t see things the way others do. I don’t think it was out of cruelty, at least not in the way most people would think of it,” he said softly, his voice low but steady. “My mother… She was always different. But she loved me. I never doubted that.”

Arjun paused, his gaze shifting to the steam rising from his own mug. “She never married. Never even really dated. But she was a remarkable woman, respected by her peers. Her house was a revolving door of people—those who could challenge her mind, who could argue for hours, and those she admired. I was always part of that, always encouraged to think, to be curious. From a young age, I learned that questioning was a gift, not a burden. I didn’t have the family many people think of, but I had love and support, in my own way.”

His smile faded slightly, but it didn’t vanish entirely. “I wasn’t alone, in the ways that matter,” he added, his words soft but sure. “I wasn’t alone.”

At Ori’s mention of the possibility of there not being a maker, Arjun looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe the truth’s just something we’ll never know for sure, no matter how many scenarios we think through.” He didn’t particularly believe in fate, but he had learned to leave some things unanswered.

His gaze drifted to the window, as if searching for an answer in the outside world. “But I do believe in something... else. Not a maker in the way some might think of it, but something grander, something far older than we could ever truly understand. There’s a beauty to the way the universe works, how everything is so intricately woven together. Even in the darkest moments, there’s still that pull of the stars, the earth, the endless sky. Maybe that’s as close to a maker as we’ll get.”

He glanced back at Ori, his eyes soft, yet firm in their conviction. “And the soul... I believe in that. I don’t know where it comes from, or where it goes, but I know it’s real. It’s in the way we connect with each other, how we’re drawn to things bigger than ourselves. You can feel it, can’t you? That energy, that spark inside, even in the quietest of moments. It's a part of us, something that doesn't fade, no matter what happens."

Arjun leaned forward, this time - he reached out for Ori and took his hand. “Some things are meant to be felt, not explained. And maybe that’s enough. Like this - why do we take comfort and enjoyment out of eating shitty pancakes at this hour? Why are you and I friends? It doesn't need to be explained or put into words -- because it just is."

“As for your childhood... it sounds like you had a good foundation," Arjun continued, though his tone was neutral, thoughtful. "You were raised in a place that valued hard work and community. That’s more than a lot of people can say, even if it was all about balance, even if your passion took you away from it sometimes. You didn’t lose that foundation, did you?” He took another small sip from his cup, waiting for Ori’s response, considering how different their worlds had been yet how similar their drives had been to carve out their own paths.

Ori smiled, but shook his head. "The more I eat, the harder I have to work later today. And I'll already be tired, so that seems like torture," he explained, pushing his plasticky menu away from himself on the table. He went through phases like that, where he worried about what he was eating. He tried not to make it too obvious, he knew it was silly, but it was just one more thing keeping him from being the best he could be.

Listening to Arjun's story made Ori's smile disappear pretty quickly. In fact, he looked sad, his features drooping as he let the other finish. "I'm so sorry," he said finally, reaching forward to gently touch Arjun's hand. "That's terrible. I can't imagine treating someone I loved like that. If any of my sisters wanted to have a baby in any sort of way, I'd be so excited for them. And I'd expect all of them to be happy for me, too," he said, eyes watering as he spoke. But quickly he blinked the tears away, sighing and pulling his hand away from Arjun's. Sometimes he got too affectionate with people, he never meant any harm though.

"Maybe there isn't a maker," Ori suggested, though it came merely from a thought he'd always wondered about. He didn't pretend to know about what came after anyone's time on Earth, but he'd tried to imagine pretty much every scenario he could.

Sipping at his coffee, he picked up a fork and started to cut up his omelette with it. As he did, he shrugged, looking up at Arjun again. "It was peaceful, I think. I was born on a commune. Everything we had was worked for. My family grew food, helped with all of the chores with everyone else, and I started doing what I could as soon as I was old enough to walk. I'm not the oldest, I have an older sister, and then I have two more sisters after me. Ocean's the youngest." He hesitated a moment, thinking about his childhood, and then he smiled again. "I didn't leave the commune for anything other than dance. Classes, and recitals, and then competitions and stuff. I actually started feeling guilty when I was going to the studio every day, but my mom never let me stay guilty for long. She was always really proud of me, and she made me feel like it was okay that I had a passion outside of our little community."

[titsthedamnseason]

i’m being so serious i hope no one there sees this and gets offended because this is just personal taste but if this was my show i would be so devastated i fear….theres like FOUR taylor songs that i genuinely don’t like / always skip and she played TWO of them….and then the other two are just incredibly mid / lower tier on my rankings. its so hard to find taylor songs that i don’t really like and the fact that she somehow played FOUR of them on the same night is SOOOOOO astounding to me. no hate i just genuinely am surprised and confused by this turn of events

[sockiess]

Can you write a richgf reader who takes jj out to spoil him because he deserves it fuck the writers!!!

“FUCK THE WRITERS 🗣️” we all shout in unison

Material Girl

warnings: none! this is pure fluff which is what i think we all need

As I sat at my vanity getting ready, all I could think about was how excited I was! I was going to JJ out on a very nice date at a very nice restaurant to spoil him! It took JJ a lot of convincing to agree but I can always get him to agree to do anything with me.

I spray on my perfume as the last touches to me getting ready as JJ will be here any minute. I try to contain my excitement as I hear his bike pull up. I run to my window and open it “Hi JJ!” I yell as I wave at him. JJ looks up at me and a massive grin grows on his face “Hi pretty girl!” He yells back. “Stay there i’ll be down in a second!” I shout before closing the window and I grab my purse and run downstairs to him.

I open and the door and jump into his arms. “Someone’s excited” JJ says softly laughing has he hugs me back. He softly sets me back down, “Jesus baby” he breathes out as he looks at me “you’re so pretty” he says before kissing me. I laugh softly before grabbing his hand, “come on we have a reservation to catch” I say dragging him to my car.

“Just tell me where we are going and I’ll drive you” JJ complains as he opens the driver door to let me in. “No. It’s a surprise” I wink at him. He softly groans before smiling at me.

Before we make it to the restaurant I have him close his eyes so it can be a surprise. “are you excited” I ask him before pulling into the parking lot. “I’m very excited baby” he says turning to me with his eyes still closed.

I pull into the parking lot and park “ok JJ you can open your eyes now” I say trying to hold back my excitement. I watch as he opens his eyes and his widen. “baby?! I heard this place is super expensive” he says while gaping at me. I shrug before taking his hand and walking inside. Before we reach the door he stops. “JJ?” I ask him softly. “I don’t deserve this” he whispers. “Of course you do” I tell him as I cup his cheek. “Let me spoil you Jayj like how you spoil me everyday” I whisper before kissing him softly. “Ok..let’s go” JJ says before walking in with his hand in mine.

I talk to the hostess and tell them that the reservation is for Maybank, I see JJ smile when he realized that I used his last name. The hostess leads us to the table. The table is beautiful and surrounded by soft lighting casted by fairy lights and candles.

“Thank you for this baby” JJ says as he softly takes my hand in his and starts rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. “You don’t have to thank me” I tell him. “You do so much for me and for other people and you work so hard, you deserve to be spoiled” I continue to tell him. JJ smiles at me before softly kissing my hand and asking me what I plan on ordering.

The whole night goes by amazingly, we laugh and talk the whole time. When the bill comes and I pay I can tell that JJ feels bad that i’m paying so to make it up to him I let him drive.

When we get back to my house I give him his last present, a shark tooth necklace with your initials carved into it. “Thank you” he says sincerely before kissing me. “I don’t deserve this” he says as he rests his forehead against mine. “you deserve this and so much more Jayj” I tell him, “I’ll spend my whole life proving that to you” I continue to tell him before kissing him and inviting him back into my house.

this is my first time writing for JJ so if it’s bad my apologies 🙏🙏

thank you so much for the request and if you want me to change or add anything please let me know 🫶🫶

[pickingupmymercedes]

It was always them - Lewis Hamilton 1/3

An Invisible String Theory Story - It was always them (pt.1). It still is (pt.2). It will always be (pt.3).

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none, it's pure fluff.

wordcount: +1K

a/n: I need to give all the props to @greedyjudge2 for getting me to finally write this.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The soft hum of the apartment filled the quiet morning. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a warm glow washing over the NYC living room.

Lewis was sprawled on the sofa, a cup of coffee in hand, his eyes glued to his phone, scrolling through his emails.

The soft padding of bare feet interrupted his focus. He looked up to find Y/N, a bouncing figure of energy, emerged from their bedroom. Her hair still damp from a shower as her eyes sparkled with excitement, a stark contrast to the lazy demeanor he expected on a Sunday.

"You have to see this, Lew," Y/N's voice, filled with excitement as she chirped, her voice carrying a playful lilt and, in her arms, she clutched a stack of thick, glossy papers.

"Is this what I think it is?" he replied, a lazy smile spreading across his face. He set down his phone and reached for her, pulling her into a warm embrace.

Y/N wriggled out of his arms and sat down beside him, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "The first draft of my Balmain collection," she said, her voice barely containing her enthusiasm.

Curiosity piqued; Lewis raised an eyebrow as he sat up straighter, "Oh?"

His heart swelled with admiration. He knew how much this meant to her. After five years of revolutionizing sports fashion with Ferrari, she had decided to take on a new challenge. It was a bold move, but watching her grow and evolve in high fashion had been nothing short of inspiring.

"Let's see it then" he said, his voice steady, gesturing for her.

Y/N carefully laid the sketches out on the kitchen island, a pristine expanse of black marble. Lewis got up and enveloped her in his arms as his eyes scanned the sketches.

The designs were definitely a departure from the sports-inspired aesthetic she was so known for, but they still carried her signature flair. The colors were bold, the silhouettes modern, and the overall aesthetic was undeniably Y/N. It was a perfect blend of her signature sporty elegance and the high fashion world she was now navigating.

"I wanted to create something that was both timeless and modern," she explained, her voice soft. "Something empowering"

"These are incredible, Y/N," Lewis nodded, impressed. "You've done that and more," he said sincerely.

A radiant smile spread across her face. "You haven’t even seen them all" she said, her voice filled with mock disbelief. "I was worried it was too much of a departure from my usual style."

"It's not," he assured her. "It's just a different expression of your talent. You've always been able to adapt and evolve."

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I know, but I had never strayed that far."

Lewis turned her in his arms and caught her chin so she would look at him "I'm here to support you every step of the way," he said softly. "I know you can do this. You're one of the most talented people I know."

She leaned into his touch, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, Lew. It means the world to me."

He let her go as he reached for the sketches and continued to look through them, he noticed a recurring theme - strong, independent silhouettes but always with a softer note. It was a reflection of Y/N herself.

"You've captured the essence of Balmain perfectly," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "It's bold, but it's still undeniably you."

Y/N beamed. "I wanted to push the boundaries of what Balmain can be," she explained. "To create something that's both classic and contemporary, strong and feminine."

Lewis nodded "You've definitely achieved that." He picked up a sketch of a tailored blazer, the fabric adorned with a subtle Balmain monogram. " It's them but it feels fresh and modern."

Y/N's eyes lit up with gratitude. "I'm glad you like it," she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. "I was kind of nervous about showing you."

"Why would you be nervous?" he asked, taking her hand in his. "I have complete faith in you."

She squeezed his hand. "It's different when it's your own full collection. It's like putting a part of myself out there."

"You're going to kill it," he assured her. "I know it."

He’d always admired her ability to create something out of nothing. From transforming the world of F1 fashion to now, venturing into the realm of high fashion, she was a force to be reckoned with. And yet, despite her accomplishments, she still sought his opinions, her eyes darting to him every few seconds as he went through all the designs.

Y/N explained her inspiration for each piece, the symbolism behind the colors, and the story she wanted to tell. Lewis listened intently, offering his feedback when asked. He was impressed by the level of detail and thought that had gone into every aspect of the collection.

"I love how you’ve sneaked motorsport elements into the designs," he commented, pointing to a dress with intricate leather detailing.

Y/N grinned. "I knew you'd appreciate that," she said. "It's a nod to our roots."

Lewis chuckled. "You're getting too good at this, you know."

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do" she replied, playfully batting his arm.

Just then, as he studied a particular sketch, a memory flickered to life.

He was still a Mercedes driver then, trying to flee from the frenetic energy of the paddock. But amidst the chaos of the circuit, a figure had caught his attention. He saw her standing amidst the chaos, a breath of fresh air in the sea of team uniforms.

She was wearing a tailored pantsuit in a shade of crimson that echoed the Ferrari red, a bold statement in a side of the paddock dominated by neutral tones and controlled imagination.

He'd been drawn to her immediately, a silent acknowledgment of her presence.

He'd asked around, of course. Who was this woman who commanded attention without even trying? The answer both surprising and intriguing: the responsible behind some of the newer Ferrari designs he'd admired from afar. The one he was sure had a new eye behind them.

Y/N's voice pulled him back to New York. “Earth to Lewis?” she teased, waving a hand in front of his face. “You okay there, lover boy?”

He blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “Yeah” he managed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Just thinking.”

“About what? Questionable fashion choices?” she asked, feigning offense.

He chuckled. “Far from it. I was actually remembering you a few years ago and that crimson pantsuit.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Smooth. But I'm glad you remembered. I was hoping you would.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 42: Big News

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Life, however, had other plans for you and it was a Monday afternoon, exactly four days before your trip to Los Angeles, that you received some life changing news.

You had just finished yet another treatment session with your therapist who informed you that you were ready to walk unaided again, albeit slowly. No high heels and no strenuous activities for at least another week, but progress, nonetheless.

Exiting the therapy room with a smile on your face, life seemed to be looking up and, without your crutches, you made your way to the day-clinic adjacent to the therapy canter on campus to see your friend Lucy. 

You had been catching up with her every week for a coffee, following your sessions, but today, you were actually meeting her for something else. You had a medical appointment with her that day to get back on track with your general health.

Since the accident, you had been neglecting your iron levels for which, until then, you had been taking tablets every day. On top of that, you needed and wanted to get back on to some form of birth control, sensing Cillian's growing frustration of having to pull out whenever you were intimate with one another. 

As a medical student yourself, you knew that this wasn't even an appropriate method of preventing pregnancy and whilst Cillian had fantastic self-control, you knew not to push your luck. 

Having children was not on your radar right now. Your life was way too complicated to start a family  , and there were still so many things you wanted to do and achieve. However, the idea of growing old with Cillian was a comforting thought, and the possibility of having a child together one day was not entirely off the table. One day, in about five years or so, this would be a possibility.

 As you walked in the day-clinic, there was a line of people waiting to check-in and the atmosphere buzzed with activity as nurses hurriedly called out names and directed patients to the correct rooms.

Seating arrangements were limited, but there was a spare seat available by the window, not far from Lucy's consultancy room. 

Fellow students and nurses you knew quickly came to greet you, some even lingering a moment longer just to ask about your recovery, expressing their concerns and support. You exchanged pleasantries and politely nodded along as they peppered you with questions you had grown accustomed to answering. 

Finally, catching sight of your best friend Lucy, you greeted her excitedly and she quickly asked one of the nurses for your file before calling you into her consultancy room.

She gave you a warm hug as always before asking you to follow her. 

"How is the treatment going, babe? I can see the crutches are gone!"  exclaimed Lucy, a wide smile spreading across her face as she stepped back from the doorway. 

"It's going good, and I won't be needing the crutches for the Academy Awards it seems," you told her  , returning her smile with a bright one of your own.

"That's fantastic news, Y/N! I'm so fucking proud of you," Lucy said, beaming at you while she opened the medical cabinet and retrieved a few ampules and a syringe. 

"And how is Cillian? Is he getting nervous yet?" Lucy asked as you sat next to her on an exam table in her consultation room.

"Oh, he's a mess. But he won't admit it," you replied, chuckling softly. "He's definitely nervous and hopeful," you continued, your tone sincere and genuine. "But I know he is going to win that Oscar. He has to win,"   you said emphatically, your voice filled with confidence and conviction.

Lucy nodded her head in agreement. "He's a shoo-in for the award this year. It's about damn time!" she exclaimed with a grin, injecting some humor into the situation.

You chuckled, still amazed by how different your life had become in just a few short months. "It still feels surreal to me. Like it hasn't fully sunk in yet," you continued, running your fingers along the barrel of the ampule Lucy had placed next to you before taking a deep breath and rolling up your sleeve. "You know, he asked me to move to the suburbs with him?"  you said, smiling slightly as you looked up at Lucy, your eyes sparkling with hope and excitement.

Lucy's face lit up with surprise and excitement. "Oh my god, Y/N, that's amazing news! Are you going to do it?"

You nodded your head, your smile widening. "Yes. I mean, I love him and I think that I want to build a life with him. And I'm excited to see where that takes us," you answered Lucy enthusiastically, feeling your heart race at the thought of building a life with Cillian.

"That's fantastic, Y/N! I'm so happy for you," Lucy beamed, before moving on to discuss your medical issues. You went over your iron levels and Lucy took a few blood tests for you to be sent to the lab.

"We should have them back in a few days but you already know that, don't you?" she chuckled as she labelled the blood vials and placed them in the appropriate container.

"Yeah, I do," you replied, still grinning from ear to ear. "I actually can't wait to come back to work either, which will happen a week or so after we come back from LA," you exclaimed while Lucy  examined your files.

"So, birth control was another thing you wanted to get sorted, right?" Lucy then asked with a smile and you nodded.

"Yeah, I was thinking the depo shot,"  you said, knowing that it was a reliable and convenient method.

"That's a practical choice, but what have you been using until now? There aren't any prescriptions on your file since the accident," Lucy inquired, her brows furrowed in concern as she flipped through your medical file.

You looked away, feeling a little embarrassed at the truth you were about to reveal. 

"We have been using anything, just self-control measures really," you stammered out, cheeks heating as you avoided Lucy's gaze.

"Really Y/N?" Lucy laughed out loud. "Because, as a med student yourself, you should know better than that," she chided, but there was a playful tone in her voice. 

"I know, I know and that's why I am here,"  you admitted, blushing at your previous response. "I just... things have been hectic and whilst we didn't have any accidents yet, I don't really want to push my luck," you confessed, feeling a surge of embarrassment at being so open about your sex life with Lucy, but knowing that she was your best friend and would always have your back.

Lucy let out a chuckle, understanding your predicament. "Go and pee in the cup then while I get the depo shot ready," she chuckled, handing you a sample cup and gesturing towards the bathroom.

"Why do you need a urine sample?" you asked  , confusion flooding your visage as you walked towards the bathroom door.

"Well, before I give you the shot, I just want to rule out that you are not, -" Lucy began to say but you interrupted her.

"I am not pregnant, Lu!" you interrupted her, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "We have been careful, I promise," you explained, feeling slightly annoyed at the implication that you wouldn't know if you were pregnant or not.

Lucy held her hands up in a defensive gesture. "I know that, Y/N. But this is the protocol now, and it's better to rule out any possibilities," she told you, her voice gentle as she smiled reassuringly.

"Now hurry up and give me the sample," she said, her tone light and playful.

You rolled your eyes again, chuckling to yourself, but you did as she asked and grabbed a clean urine container from the rack.

You knew that she was just doing her job and were aware of some rare cases where women fell pregnant from intercourse even where their partner did not finish inside. It was uncommon, but not impossible.

Upon returning to the examination room and handing the sample to Lucy, she nodded and took the container from you. "Thanks, babe," she said, her voice warm and understanding.

She then put on some gloves and opened the container to check the sample, dipping a dip-stick into it, before turning to you again.

"Now tell me, have you found a house yet?"  she asked as she began to prepare the injection.

"We have been looking at a few houses actually, yes," you replied, your voice filled with excitement. "It's a bit overwhelming, to be honest, but also really exciting," you continued, relishing in the thought of starting this new chapter in your life with Cillian.

"I bet it is!" Lucy exclaimed before turning back to the sample while you kept on talking about  the house-hunting experience.

"There is one place, though, that I think we both really like, but god I think it is way too expensive," you said with a chuckle while Lucy turned silent and pale. 

"Uh-huh," she simply murmured before putting another dip -stick into the sample.

"What, Lu?" you asked, seeing how your friend had become rather quiet and when she did not immediately respond and put yet another stick into  your sample, you became concerned.

"Lucy?" you probed further.

"Y/N, I, uhm," she began to say, her voice barely audible as she moved the chair next to the exam bed and sat down. There was a serious expression on her face that unnerved you, and she took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I am so sorry, I don't know how to say this but, babe, you are pregnant," Lucy blurted out, her voice trembling as she revealed the results from your urine sample.

At first, you didn't understand what Lucy had just said and then, almost instinctually, your chin dropped.

"That can't be right, Lu. We had no accidents and the chances of falling pregnant are -," you stammered, unable to finish your sentence, your mind reeling from the news.

Lucy gave you a sympathetic look. "I am sorry, babe, but I just checked three times. You are definitely pregnant," she confirmed, her voice still trembling slightly.

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. The news was too much to process, and you sat there, frozen in shock.

"No, no, no,"  you muttered, shaking your head as you tried to wrap your mind around the unexpected turn of events.

Lucy reached out and placed a comforting hand on your arm. "I know this isn't what you were expecting, but it's not the end of the world," she reassured you, her voice gentle. "There are options and you know that already," she  said, not needing to remind you of your medical studies.

You nodded numbly, still not able to completely process the news. Your mind was racing with thoughts and questions, but none of them felt clear or rational. You simply felt overwhelmed.

"Can you give me a script for mifeprestone?"  you asked Lucy, your voice almost robotic as you tried to process the news. Your mind was still reeling, and you found it hard to believe that you were actually pregnant.

Lucy nodded. "Of course, I will write it up for you, but we need to get an ultrasound first before the gynecologist on call will sign off on it," she explained, her voice soft and soothing.

"Can we do it now? I can walk over to the maternity ward," you told Lucy, trying to stay calm as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Sure, I will come with you. I am due for my break anyway," Lucy agreed, her voice still gentle as she stood up and walked over to her computer to write the prescription and necessary referrals.

As you waited for Lucy to print out the script and referrals, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. You were surprised, scared, and a little disappointed, but you also knew that you had options. And you were grateful for that.

After Lucy handed you the script, you both walked over to the maternity ward in silence. It was a short walk, but it felt like an eternity.

You kept up a brisk pace, your hand clenched tight around the prescription slip. Lucy walked alongside you, her arm linked in yours, offering comfort and support.

Inside the maternity ward, you found yourself waiting in a crowded reception area. A nursing assistant called out names, directing patients to the various stations and clinics. You glanced around, your eyes scanning the crowd, feeling both overwhelmed and self-conscious.

Minutes ticked by, and you wondered if they would need to wait much longer before someone could assist you. But then, a woman with a warm smile approached you.

"Y/N, right?" she asked, her voice friendly and welcoming and you nodded, relieved that your turn had finally come. 

The nurse led you both to a private consulting room where she quickly scanned your documents and checked your vitals. After a brief discussion about your issue, she nodded sagely, understandably nodding her head at your request. 

"Alright Love, jump up on the table for me. I'm just going to take a quick scan, just to confirm the dates and then we can get one of the doctors to sign off on your prescription," the woman said and it took every ounce of energy and self-restraint you could muster not to cry. 

You laid down as indicated and lifted up your jumper slightly to reveal your belly as the nurse carefully applied gel to the transducer and began swirling it around, taking measurements of the embryo growing inside you.

The images she projected onto the screen hung above the bed were black and white, but to you, they seemed more vivid and impactful than any colorful picture could ever be. You could clearly see the tiny developing limbs and torso, akin to a tiny alien who had somehow managed to taken root in your womb. The movements were minute and almost imperceptible, the size scarcely larger than you had expected.

"Holy shit," you said almost as at the same time as Lucy as you realized from seeing the pictures along that you were much further along than you had anticipated. 

"I am sorry to ask, but when was your last  period?" the nurse inquired gently, her voice not judgmental, but full of concern, as she cleaned the transducer.

"About four months ago, before the accident," you admitted, still staring intently at the images on the screen, your mind struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation. "But when I asked the surgeon about it during one of my follow up appointments, he said that not having a period for a while was normal, especially after an accident like mine,"  you continued, feeling an eerie sense of confusion settle over you.

The nurse nodded understandingly. "It's true that sometimes women experience temporary amenorrhoea after a traumatic incident or surgery, but it's unusual for it to last for this long," she explained gently. "You are about 19 weeks pregnant , honey," the nurse said softly, patting your hand gently.

You felt a sudden wave of emotions overtake you, a mixture of confusion, fear and disbelief. How had this happened? You had always been so careful, taking every precaution to avoid an unplanned pregnancy, especially before the accident. And yet, here you were, sitting on a cold exam table, staring at the ultrasound images of a baby that you had never expected to have.

"Are you sure there are no mistakes?" Lucy asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she squeezed your other hand, trying to offer you comfort. "I mean, she would have been pregnant before the accident, so why wasn't it picked up then?" Lucy asked, her voice a mix of confusion and concern while the nurse called in one of the head gynecologists who, later, explained that you could have fallen pregnant just before the accident, which is why it wasn't picked up in the tests. It was simply too early to tell. 

But as the doctor went over the results in detail, explaining the situation to you both, one thing became abundantly clear: there could be no mistaking it. You were definitely pregnant.

The room seemed to spin around you. You couldn't believe it. You hadn't thought it was possible. You blinked hard, trying to push back the tears that were threatening to spill over. " I... I can't have a baby. Not now," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to hold it together. "I don't know if I can do this."

Lucy leaned in closer to you, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "Hey, it's going to be okay," she said soothingly. "And maybe it's a sign, babe. Maybe this was meant to be because, for a fetus to survive what your body went through in those last three or four months, is pretty remarkable," Lucy said, her voice gentle and soothing, her eyes filled with encouragement and hope.

You nodded, understanding where Lucy was coming from. And she was right, it was a miracle that the baby had survived the accident and the subsequent surgeries and treatments. But still, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.

"With the medication and treatments I had those last few months, what are the chances of damage to the baby?" you asked, your voice now shaking as fear gripped your chest.

"The risk is minimal, with all the medications you have received being either A Class or B Class medicines, and the fetus looks well developed, so I wouldn't worry,  but let's have a closer look at the organs for any abnormalities, " the doctor reassured you, smiling warmly before conducting a more detailed ultrasound, carefully examining every organ of the growing fetus.

Minutes passed, and Lucy kept squeezing your hand, maintaining eye contact to reassure you as you watched, in utter amazement and disbelief, as the doctor pointed out the different organs and limbs on the screen.

The little being inside you was kicking and moving, a testimony to its vibrant health and development.

Finally, the doctor nodded and turned off the machine. "All is well in there, and the baby is healthy and growing perfectly," he then finally said, and you�� couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you, even though you were by no means ready for this.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" you asked almost as if you were in a trance  , still not quite able to comprehend the enormity of the news.

The doctor nodded and gestured to the ultrasound screen. "Well, this area here would indicate that your baby is a boy," he said softly, pointing to a slightly wider section in the grainy, black and white picture.

You kept staring at the ultrasound screen, unable to tear your gaze away from the small, wriggling figure. "A boy," you murmured softly, almost to yourself before breaking out in tears. 

You couldn't help but feel a pang of fear and uncertainty in that moment.

You had never dreamt of becoming a mother, at least not this soon, not under these circumstances. And although you knew that you could rely on Cillian to support you, you were still hesitant to bring a child into the world so abruptly. 

With everything that was going on in your lives, the timing was absolutely terrible and you were unsure whether or not motherhood would break you. You weren't ready for this and not to mention the fact that your relationship was still very new and complicated.

You had no idea how you would  explain this to Cillian and the thought of telling him made you sick to your stomach.

NOTE: Yes I know I am predictable. I cannot help myself! I love writing pregnancies into my fics, so no judgment please.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Lightning Makes The Roots Grow Deep

Basil Stilt x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 19: Voyeurism

Summary: There's something watching in the woods.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). I don't know how this became what it is.

Warnings: sort of magical realism, Basil becoming a sort of Green Man, plants growing out of people, cut to black sexy times, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1101

It had started when leaves began to grow from the scar tissue along Basil’s face. It wasn’t painful, just odd. But then again most things had been strange in the last few days… months? How long had it actually been? 

He often woke with berries on his eyelashes, the small red fruits falling when he first opened his eyes to the new day. 

He ate less. Began to just sit for hours by the window to soak up the sunshine. On rainy days he opened them, hung out bowls and cups on string to catch the rainwater and drink it down. There was nothing else like it. No other food or liquid, even tap water sustained him in the same way, nothing else quenched the deep ache in his chest. 

After a long time, when the vines from his skin had begun to twist and creep down along his arms and across his chest he had left. Finally. 

He wasn’t sure where the energy had come from, the drive. He just simply walked out of his flat in the dead of night. 

His car, the poor thing had sat dormant for years, started the second he got in and put his hands on the wheel even though his keys were still somewhere upstairs in the reminiscence of his old home. 

He drove for a long time. Out of the city and further still. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but something pulled at his nerves, an urge he could not deny. 

Basil didn’t know the name of the place when he arrived, surely a national forest of some sort. But it was the right place. 

As he walked further into the trees his muscles relaxed, the cobwebs in his lungs cleared. He was home. 

. 

“Are you sure there’s no bears?” Elizabeth asked sincerely, and Barry laughed. 

“No fucking bears, I promise.” He grinned. 

Elizabeth didn’t look so reassured. “Are you 100% on that?” 

Jamie, her boyfriend wrapped his arms around her. “No bears.” 

“Hmm.” She didn’t look so impressed. 

“I wouldn’t be here if there were.” You say, trying to comfort her. 

She gave you a brilliant smile. “Okay, you I trust.” 

You laugh, all four of you saying goodnight as you went to your respective tents. Elizabeth and Jamie shared, Barry to another, and the last was yours. 

Part of you was sure that this whole trip was secretly Jamie’s and Elizabeth’s attempt to set you up with Barry. He was nice but there was something you couldn’t put your finger on. Something just didn’t seem right. 

It’s difficult to sleep. You’d expected the cold and had packed well for it. It was the noise that was getting to you. This forest seemed louder than any you’d ever been to before. Busy. As if it was teaming with life ten times the usual amount. 

Somehow you manage to get to sleep for a while. A little after 2am you wake, needing to pee. 

You sigh and pull yourself out of your sleeping bag and grab your torch. Even though you were just going to duck behind a tree didn’t mean you weren’t going to get lost. People who got lost were people who thought they couldn’t get lost. 

You stepped as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake the others and walked around the back of a large tree and peed quickly. 

You’d just finished disinfecting your hands when there was a snap from the distance. You jolted, looking up in the direction quickly and shining your light. There was something there. Between the nearest outcrop. Like… light? Soft glowing orbs of dark pink and red. They floated like bubbles, a seemingly high pitched soft sound emanating from them. 

You don’t remember following them, one moment you were there by the campsite and the next you were deep in the undergrowth, mud high up on your jogging bottoms from your journey. 

“What?” You frown, blinking hard and trying to shift the wave of dizziness that floats next to your eyes. 

Panic doesn’t grip you, doesn’t sink in despite you not knowing where the hell you are. Instead, you feel sort of… warm. 

There’s a faint light blue glow up ahead filtering through the trees. A ranger’s station or something. You walk further in, closer to the light and…

You stop in your tracks. 

The forest is glowing. All manner of plants, flora you have never even seen in a textbook cover the clearing. Soft moss lines the floor. You lightly touch the bark of the closest tree, it’s warm. Not uncomfortably, not in a way that would make your skin crawl. It’s nice, soothing. 

It’s only then that you notice the figure in the middle of the clearing. You pause, swallowing as he looks at you. 

He says your name softly.

“How… how do you know…?”

“I’ve been watching,” he pauses, turning his head so you can see the leaves growing from his face. He moves closer, seeming to float across the moss. “You… and the others.” Lightly he touches your cheek, you can feel the vines that run along his fingertips. 

“What… are you?” You breathe, unable to take your eyes away from his skin, how the ivy twists in his hair and the moon seems to glow in one eye, his other dark like the night itself. 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours and opening your mouth with his own. You moan, shiver as his hand trails down your neck, his hand resting just above your heart. 

You pull him closer when he licks into your mouth. He tastes like fruit, sweet and heady and when you pull back small flowers have budded and bloom along the side of his face. 

He places his hand on your hip and minuscule vines grow and slip under your clothes, pushing them from your body and tearing them away with small thorns that do not touch your skin.

You gasp, heat rising to your skin. 

“It’s alright,” he whispers, kissing your cheek and jaw. “You’re safe. I promise.” 

“I…” You swallow, words escaping you as he sucks a love bite into your skin, pulling you flush against him while he traces his hand down and lightly teases your nipple. 

When your mouth opens in a soft moan he groans, letting his fingers sink further down your body and stroke along your centre. You can feel the vines from his hand run along your skin, start to twist and stroke along your thighs. 

He licks into your mouth the same moment he sinks his fingers inside of you.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes ho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood 

@pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 @sub-aro @killerdollz

 @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist @dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious

@homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus 

@mandytrekkie @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 @pigeonmama @marcsb1tch 

@iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan @faretheeoscar@lonelyisamyw-0love 

@queerponc @twwcs @Spnwhore2430 @mari-thesimp @ominoose

@ierofrnkk @have-you-seen-my-sanity

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[bitterrfruit]

you invite him inside

It's Summer 2007, and you're on your way home from a party in Edinburgh. You encounter an exceptionally forward Scottish stranger with a buzzed head and a brow ring, calling himself Soap - you roll the dice, and let him walk you home.

18+ MDNI - cw: reader is drunk - 5k words

tags: Indie Sleaze(!!) Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish x f!Reader, teasing & denial, flirting & banter

a/n: this is (some) of the first chapter of my longfic Trainspotting on A03, bitterfruit. I thought I'd share on here since I'm working on a part 2!! ♡

You carve through the beating crowd of the house party; sloshing drinks and drunken hands intercept you as you attempt to navigate your way to the front door. MGMT’s Kids thunders from the speakers in the hallway, its deafening volume only exacerbated by the passionate chanting of the dancers that hover around it.

Control yourself! Take only what you neeeed from it!

Your friend Katie, who had brought you as a plus-one, had long disappeared with some boy she had been all over - taking your coat with her - leaving you to make your way home in nothing but your needlessly skimpy playboy bunny costume.

Finally stumbling out of the dense jungle of partygoers, you burst through the front door as if you’d just been birthed, sweaty and panting. 

Just a fifteen-minute walk.

With your arms crossed, you trudge down the steps in the stiletto pumps you had borrowed from Katie – glossy, sharp, and a size too small. Fuck, they ache. Before you even make it past the gate, you throw in the towel and unstuff your feet from their latex trappings; holding the shoes with two fingers hooked at the heels, doing your best to avoid stepping on the broken glass on the footpath.

As your distance from the house party grows and the echoes of Paper Planes begin to fade, it dawns on you that you’re far drunker than you had believed yourself to be. Being surrounded by students two boxes and three pingers deep has the tendency to make you feel staunchly sober by comparison.

Still, you feel the slabs of concrete wobbling beneath your feet, your head starts to spin like you’ve stepped off a carousel if you shut your eyes for too long. The streets are utterly quiet, devoid of cars or people, despite the neighbourhood’s proximity to the CBD. You may well have found it off-putting if you were sober, but in truth, you’re just thanking Christ there’s nobody around to see you trotting down the road in nothing but a bodysuit and fishnets. You imagine a car might pull up alongside you, rolling slowly on its wheels as the driver asks through his window, “how much for an hour?”

And that would almost be preferable to what you actually encounter once you’re halfway home – crossing the street, stumbling in your bare feet as you walk past shops with steel shutters blocking their doors and windows.

You hear the distinctive thuds of sprinting feet from far behind you; the soles of sneakers slamming hard on the footpath, in a rapid enough pace that the person might as well be an Olympian runner. As they get louder, closer, your first instinct is to flee – but before you even have the chance to turn to look over your shoulder, the sprinter has come to a screeching halt beside you, tearing off their jacket and tossing it over your shoulders as if it were a cape.

“What the fu–” You yelp, hastily cut short.

“Shh – shut up, pretend y’know me.”

A man, and a local, evidently – the kind of Scottish accent so thick you can barely distinguish the beginning of one word from the end of another. 

“Get away fr–”

He interrupts you once again, tossing an arm over your shoulder as he walks alongside you, shoving his other fist into the pocket of his loose black jeans. “Please, lassie, do me a favour and just go with it.”

Amidst his breathlessness he sounds quite desperate – voice deep and warm, oozing sincerity despite the edge in his tone. So you weigh your options, whether or not to trust him, or to help him, or to scream and flee. You tilt your head just enough to take a peek at him; he hunches over, shoulders shrugging high as if keeping his neck warm, head low like it might hide his buzzcut from whoever may be chasing him.

You quickly discover that there are, in fact, people chasing him – more echoes from further down the road of multiple sets of running feet. You hear an enraged roar from a man behind you; your body tenses on instinct, head twisting further in the hopes of checking how close they are to you.

“Don’t look at ‘em,” he instructs you pointedly, under his breath.

More indistinguishable yelling erupts from his pursuers, though they no longer seem to be approaching. “Cheap fucken’ trick, ye fucken’ coward!”

“Keep walkin’ with me,” he mutters, tugging you along with his heaving arm draped around the back of your neck, forcing you to accelerate so that you can keep up with him.

Adrenaline throbbing hotly in your ears, you try to steal glances at the controlling stranger, not able to see much of him in your periphery. You realise now that the gifting of his jacket was not a chivalrous gesture, but a failed attempt to trick his pursuers. “Sounds like they’ve spotted you,” you whisper-yell, facing ahead.  

“Aye,” he grunts, “but they won’t touch me if there’s a witness.”

“I don’t want to be a witness,” you squeak, nervous terror in your throat.

He chuckles breathily, gives a single shake of his head. “Too late.”

“Next time I see ye, yer a fucken’ dead man, hear me? With or without yer hoor!”

The stranger groans as he scoops you around a corner, keeping a hurried pace, shooting looks over his shoulder to ensure he’s no longer being followed. Fortunately – or, unfortunately – this was the corner you would have taken anyway.

“Did he just call me a whore?” You whisper, still in shock.

He chortles at you again, sliding his weighty arm from your shoulders and releasing you at long last. “Ignore ‘em. Fucken' wankers.”

You finally have the opportunity to turn around fully to check behind you, seeing only empty, silent street.

“They won’t follow us,” he assures you, still walking alongside you, arrogant in his assumption that you won’t tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t, not yet. “Why – why were they chasing you?”

“Nosy wee thing, aren’t ye?” He smiles, crossing his arms, and you finally get a good look at him.

Hair buzzed short, the sort of job he likely did himself over his sink with an electric clipper plugged into the wall. A curved barbel pierces through the tail of his left eyebrow, almost as flashy as the sharp grey eyes pointing down at you from beneath it. His grin pushes dimples into his densely stubbled cheeks, revealing charmingly crooked teeth, and a golden crown on his right canine.

There’s something tired, jaded about him, dark eyes and low brows; face speckled with a variety of little scars, one white slash through his right eyebrow, a few pink lines carving over his temple and through his shaven scalp.

You blink, reminding yourself to speak.

“Nosy?” You snap, “you brought me into this!”

He tilts his head, appearing to acquiesce. “Aye, true. They’re just mad ‘cos I short-changed ‘em.”

As he shrugs, the hem of his cropped t-shirt tugs up on his stomach, revealing the hem of plaid boxers sticking out from his baggy trousers, a sliver of firm abdomen, a dusting of curly hair trailing down from his navel. You swallow.

“Hm. For what?” You pester.

“Now yer bein’ nosy.”

You huff, crossing your arms underneath the cape of his jacket, checking over your shoulder one last time to be certain you’re no longer being stalked.

“Fine,” you pout. After a beat of silence, you decide to add; “I’m not a prostitute, by the way.”

He snickers hoarsely, “’course not. Prostitutes are much more subtle. You’d be the first I’ve ever seen dressed as a – a what, a bunny?”

He reaches behind you, the cocky prick, lifting the back of his cloaking jacket and flicking the puffball pinned to your ass. You gawk at him, a surge of adrenaline buzzing within your chest – curious, that it’s not out of fear but fascination.

“See a lot of prostitutes, do you?” You sneer, noting how briefly his gaze lingers on your backside before it flits to your face.

“Not ‘round this side of town,” he chortles. You suspect he’s joking, but who’s to say? “So… why a bunny?”

“Playboy bunny,” you correct him, turning your head to glance at him; he just looks bewildered. “Pimps and hoes party.”

He laughs, richly, lurching forward as he does. “Ha! Had no idea they still did those.”

“Sure do,” you say, failing to suppress your grin. “Too old for them, are you?”

“Aye, for house parties full o’ students,” he admits, “but not too old to party. M’only twenty-six.”

You smile. “Good for you.”

“Got no girlie-mates to walk ye home?” He changes the subject.

Peeking at him, you squint. “You’re not supposed to ask a girl if she’s alone, you know.” 

“Oh,” he frowns, “why’s that?”

“Like, stranger danger.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles deeply. “Do you think I’m dangerous?”

You turn to look at him, running your eyes from his cocksure grin, down to his Chucks and back again. He certainly looks the part. Rough around the edges. You wonder if you would have avoided him, had he not approached you so blithely.

“Very,” you nod. “Plus, you’re following me.”

“Am I?” He jibes, “well, love, if ye want me to leave y’alone, tell me and I’ll try to leave ye be.”

Your pout shifts into a girlish smirk despite your dire efforts to contain it. “You’ll try?”

“Mm. Might be easier said than done,” he ribs, leering down at you. Your quiet titter only serves to embolden him. “It’s probably for the best that I found ye.”

“You reckon?”

“Mm. Not very bright o’ye to be walking home by yerself at this hour. And in that.”

You click your tongue impatiently. “You sound like my mum.”

“Then she’s a smart woman,” he says, with a sternness that leaves you taken aback.

You peer up at him, scrutinising. For fuck’s sake, you curse at yourself, get a grip. All better judgement, your guardian angel, screams at you to stop flirting with this bizarre studded stranger and hurry your ass home. But the little devil on your other shoulder is far more interested in seeing how this unusual interaction plays out.

“You gonna protect me, are ya?” You probe.

“Naturally,” he chuffs.

“Walking me home, then?”

A devilish grin stretches in his lips. “Happily.”

“Promise you’re not a psychopath or something?”

He inhales deeply, blowing a raspberry as he puts his hands on his hips. “No promises.”

“Mm. Well, I shouldn’t be surprised,” you say, “only psychopaths would roam the streets at three-a.m.”

“Yeah? What does that make you?”

You giggle. “Shit. You got me.”

“You bet I do. What kind of psycho wears a fucken’ outfit like that ‘on the streets at 3-a.m.’?”

Taking a peek down at yourself, you’re confronted immediately by your obnoxious cleavage, unsure how you could have forgotten it was there. You decide to slip your arms into the roomy sleeves of his jacket, wearing it properly rather than as a cloak – much warmer.

“What’s wrong with it?” You wonder in jest, feigning offence.

“Yer jokin’.” He scoffs.

“What?” You gaze at him, with a cock of your brow; he unashamedly glowers at you, vibrantly grey eyes raking from your lips to your feet before climbing back to your stare.

He huffs petulantly. “I could see yer tits from across the street,” he murmurs, “don’t make me say something about the stockings.”

You laugh coyly, feeling your cheeks burn hot and red. Seems like you got the answer you wanted. “S’that why you ran up to me, huh?”

He shakes his head. “Nae. That was just dumb luck.”

“Ah. Lucky you.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, voice low, “very lucky.”

Why is your heart fluttering? Why are you suddenly hanging on his every word like a fucking teenage girl? You blame the cherry-flavoured RTDs you were knocking back every ten minutes while you were at that party. They’ve made your cheeks all pink and your tongue all wet.

Yet in the current quiet, strolling nonchalantly down an empty street at half-past three in the morning, you don’t feel any awkwardness in the silence. You just smile at your feet like an idiot.

“What’s yer name, then?” He asks casually, both fists in his pockets.

You hum in thought, “hmm. I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“You’re a stranger, remember?”

“So?” He disputes, grinning and playfully biting his bottom lip with his top teeth, brandishing that glistening golden canine.

You shake your head. “Who knows what you could do with my name! You could be a stalker for all I know,” you explain defensively, “you might find out where I work on MySpace, or something.”

He snickers. “Wouldn’t need MySpace to figure that out, lass.”

Frowning, you give him a disapproving smirk. “You’re proving my point.”

“Ye really won’t tell me?”

“Nope.”

He huffs disappointedly. “Alright, then, I’ll just have to call ye the bunny I found on the street.”

“Fine by me,” you declare proudly. “What can I call you, then? The playboy?”

With a chuckle, he purses his lips in contemplation. “The playboy to yer bunny, I like that,” he says. “But, pals call me Soap.”

“Soap?” You question incredulously, “seriously?”

“Aye. If I can’t have yer name, y'can’t have mine.”

You snort. “Is it meant to be ironic?”

“Can’t be,” he refutes, quick to detect your insult, “I’m clean as a whistle.”

As you open your mouth to offer back some snippy response, you spot your mailbox, number eighteen, three terraced townhouses down – you had lost track of how long the walk was, your charming stranger having sponged up every last drop of your attention.  

You find yourself disappointed, unjustifiably; you even consider, briefly, not mentioning that you had arrived home just so you can keep walking with him. God, you’re pathetic.

But imagining yourself having to eventually turn around, having to admit that you purposefully missed your stop – you begrudgingly decide to be a good girl and put yourself to bed.

“This is me,” you say flatly, slowing your steps before you come to a stop.

“Ah,” he stops beside you and rocks on the balls of his feet. “Bugger.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, mindlessly slipping your hands into the pockets of his jacket, preceding a reluctant silence. “Well, um... thanks for walking me home. Who knows what danger I could’ve gotten into.”

He waves away your jocose gratitude. “Oh, ‘course,” he says, “had to make sure ye didn’t get tricked into a chase by some strange gadgie.”

You snicker. “Oh, yeah. That would be terrifying.”

Crossing his arms, her gives you a wide but wistful grin. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it, hen.”

“Okay,” you nod, chewing your lip, you feel something in his pocket – rolling it between your fingers, feels like a wad of paper. Cash? A receipt? You start to wonder what he might have ‘short-changed’ those thugs for. Don’t be nosy. “Oh – your jacket.”

As you slip it off your shoulders, he disputes; “don’t wanna keep it as a memento?”

You chuckle, frowning, shaking your head in bemusement. Memento? What a peculiar bloke. “No. It sorta smells.”

“Bollocks,” he retorts, reaching to take the jacket from you – a brown leather bomber, now that you can see it properly. “I smell divine.”

God, he does. Like patchouli and sweat and leather; some sort of earthy masculine concoction, the kind of scent that’s probably entirely accidental – underpinned, you note, by something strangely chemical, like he had just taken a walk through a hospital. Still, so delightfully distinct from the stench of Axe body spray that the boys at your university gassed themselves with daily.

You pass him the bomber, shivering once your scantily clad body is once again exposed to the chilly air of the night. He’s quite shameless, this stranger, eyes almost bulging as they comb brazenly over you – legs, hips, tits – finally getting a good look at you, he takes his time.

“Eyes up here, playboy,” you chide.

He smirks, piercing gaze jumping to yours while his head remains tilted down; you’re almost intimidated the intensity of his eye contact from under his brow. “Aye. They’re just as pretty.”

“Alright, alright,” you giggle, face glowing hot. “I’d better turn in.”

“Yes, you’d better.”

Before you bring yourself to turn around, his hand reaches toward you, plucking the bunny-eared headband from the top of your head.

“Oi!” You bark, smoothing your disturbed hair; watching in confusion as he meticulously sits them on his head, flicking one of the fuzzy white ears with a pleased grin stretched in his lips.

“I want a memento,” he explains boldly. “Never know when I'm dreamin’ these days.”

You stare at him in bewilderment, amused and oddly endeared. He slips on his jacket, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shrugging it over his shoulders.

“Fine, all yours,” you capitulate, smiling meekly, once again letting a pregnant silence linger while you resist a goodbye. “Um. Alright. Goodnight. Soap.”

He nods. “G’night, wee bunny.”

You nod, too, finally turning on your bare feet and walking up the stairs of your flat’s brick stoop. Fumbling around in your handbag, you pluck out your keys – jingling loudly with all of your various keychains as you unlock the painted white door.

You hear his footsteps as he strolls away, slowly, growing duller as the distance grows. You find yourself frozen in the open doorway, staring into the dark abyss of your foyer, facing solitude. Bouncing in dispute with yourself, you exert all strength to bite your tongue. Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid.

He starts to whistle, some obscure tune from just down the street, as if he is purposefully reminding you he’s still in earshot – a smug little prompt.

Fuck it.

Spinning around to face the road, you lean out of the door, and call out; “Hey!”

As though he had expected it, he stops in his tracks, twirling on his heel to face you with his hands still in his pockets. Had lit himself a cigarette already, in the thirty seconds since you had bid him farewell.

“Hm? Want the ears back after all?”

“Um–” You scramble to come up with an excuse. “Those guys won’t be looking for you, will they?”

He grins. “Oh, they could well be.”

“What’ll they do if they find you?”

“Who knows,” he huffs. “Probably kill me. Might gimme one o’ those Glasgow smiles.”

“That would be pretty terrible,” you remark solemnly.

“Aye. It sure would.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, battling with your drunken little demon. “Maybe you should hide out here for the night.” You daft bitch.

“Hm,” he ponders aloud, sauntering slowly back towards your stairs, squinting in thought. “Sounds like a bad idea.”

“How come?” You challenge, tapping the inside of the doorframe with shy fingers.

He creeps up your short footpath. “Never know what might happen.”

Your lips curl into an impish smirk. “That’s the best part.”

He laughs, plucking the cigarette from his teeth, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “How drunk are ye. On a scale one-through-ten.”

“Um,” you muse, biting your lip. “I’m not that drunk.”

“Well, hen, you must be steamed. ‘Cos that’s not a number.”

You snicker, then groan impatiently. “Four.”

“Only four, eh?” He asks dubiously, standing at the base of your stairs, he gazes up at you devilishly. “You gonna remember in the mornin’ that you asked me to come in?”

“’Course,” you say. “I want you to come inside.”

He sneers. Filthy boy. “Don’t wanna get in trouble,” he refutes.

“I want you to come in,” you insist, correcting your wording just slightly.

He hums, feigning deep thought, as if he hasn’t been hoping you’d ask. “Alright,” he surrenders. “Why not.”

You do your best to conceal your glee, nodding, grinning, you turn to step inside and you hear him follow you.

“Ye live alone?” He asks, as he looks around the empty hallway, shrouded in darkness.

Shutting the door behind you and locking it, you tut at him. “Still shouldn’t ask that.”  

“You’ve already invited me in,” he jeers, “if you’re worried I’ll hurt ye, you’ve made it well easy for me.”

��I s’pose so,” you admit, smiling sheepishly as you go to switch on the light hanging in the centre of the foyer. Christ, it’s a tip – you and Katie are equally dishevelled, leaving shoes and lip gloss and hair ties and clothes in your wake wherever you venture. “Can’t be too careful,” you add – very aware of how uncareful you are being.

“Do I scare ye?” He asks coyly, taking a raffish drag of his cigarette.

“I dunno,” you answer frankly, leaning bashfully against your front door with your hands tucked behind you. “Should I be scared of you?”

“Mm,” he shrugs, “probably.”

You purse your lips and nod. “Stranger danger,” you remind yourself.

“I reckon you’re a lot more dangerous than me,” he grins.

You frown. “Why’s that?”

He puts his cigarette between his lips, holding it with a pinch, taking a puff as he eyes you scrupulously. “Look at you.”

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Fucking hell.

“I have a flatmate,” you finally answer his initial question, and change the subject. “But she’s not home tonight.”

“Good,” he says, milky smoke spilling from his smile.

“Um,” you make noises to fill your flustered silence. “Want to go upstairs?”

He cocks his eyebrows. “Lead the way.”

Pushing yourself from the door, you slip past him and trot up the staircase that sits flush with the panelled wall. The old oak creaks and moans under the weight of his heavy steps, he follows you steadily.

Rushing to get to your room before he can see it, you scuttle across to your bedroom door from the landing, hoping he ignores the kaleidoscope of peeling stickers you’ve tacked above the handle. You shove it open, quickly kicking aside a pair of twisted up panties you had left on your red shag rug.

In a blink he’s behind you, standing in the doorframe, a terrifyingly tall and bulky silhouette against the dim glow emerging from downstairs – made uniquely funny by the rabbit ears sticking up from his head.

You step over the piles of discarded outfit options and switch on the lamp by your bed; the yellow bulb glows coral pink from behind the vintage fabric lampshade. Looking back at him, he’s already perusing your room like it’s a museum.

He picks up and analyses the assortment of trinkets on your shelves and chest-of-drawers (old jewellery, empty lighters, some strange ceramic babies you once picked up at a flea market), and admires the mosaic of posters on your wall (Gorillaz, Feist, The Killers, MGMT,  Arcade Fire, The Strokes, Peter Bjorn and John – careful cherry-picks of your favourite bands, in the hopes you’d one day impress some hot guy with taste as good as yours).

“Bit of an artiste, are ye?” He queries, nodding at the easel against your wall – housing a half-finished and long-hated painting of yours, an attempt at a masterwork copy of Monet; sitting amongst a bombsite of palettes, brushes in dirty cups, and curled-up tubes of oil paint.

“Guess so,” you answer. “It’s my degree.”

He leans into your hideous painting, taking a drag but careful not to stain the canvas with the smoke. “Still studying, then?”

“Yeah, uh, my Master’s.”

He nods. “If you’re already this good, what does a Master’s in painting get ye?”

You snort. “Good fuckin’ question.”

Feeling suddenly shy, you venture to busy yourself, electing to pull the curtains shut over your window.

You hear him chuckle while you aren’t looking. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

You spin on the ball of your foot, and freeze instantly – stare caught on your grape-coloured vibrator, held comfortably in the palm of his hand, he tosses it and catches it again. You had left it on your bed, a rookie mistake. You fucking idiot!

Your hand shoots to cover your mouth, fire burns white-hot behind your cheeks; but you can only giggle, humiliated. “Put that down,” you plead into your palm.

Ignoring you, he inspects it, quickly finding the button to turn it on; its buzzing rings out obnoxiously loud into the cripplingly awkward silence, forcing you to grimace. He doesn’t seem to find it awkward at all, holding the end of the purple rod into his other hand, curling his lips in disapproval as he evidently evaluates the vibration against his skin.

“Never understood why you girls like these things,” he remarks insouciantly.

“Please put it down,” you cry, staring at the ceiling as if it might hide you from the embarrassment.

He only sniggers. “Cannae compare to the real thing.”

You cover your eyes. “It fills the void,” you quietly admit.

He finally switches it off, but continues to fiddle with it as he ambles towards you. “Mustn’t do a very good job o’ that.”

Uncovering your face, finally, you jolt when you see how close he is to you – only a foot between you, you can feel the heat of him from where you stand. You do your utter best to prevent your eyes from jumping to the vibrator in his grip, but he still toys with it, as if just to taunt you.

“What makes you say that?”

He gazes down at you, lips stretched into a smug grin. “Why’d you invite me in, eh?”

You swallow, stifling a giggle – you look around capriciously, anywhere but his drilling stare. “Just wanted to help you out.”

“Help me out?” He interrogates you, inching forward, forcing you to step onto your back foot.

You’re suddenly short of breath. “I didn’t want you to get stabbed.”

He gleams that cheshire smile, suddenly his canines seem sharper. “You’re a bad liar, wee bunny.”

“Am I?” You utter, shambling back further has he continues to encroach.

“Took me to yer bedroom straight away… didn’t even offer me a drink…” he teases, “I’m thinkin’ ye want me to help you out.”

You feel a sudden bump as your back hits the door of your cupboard, shrinking as he leans over you, closing the gap. Your eyes catch on his lips as he again places his cigarette in between them, its smoke drifting softly over your face, your stare lingers.

“Dunno where you got that idea,” you breathe, entranced by the cloud that’s left in his mouth once he tugs the roll out again.

Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid.

Ignoring any remaining shred of common sense, you step up on your tiptoes to slam your lips against his, sucking down the smoke lingering behind his teeth deep into your chest. He matches you with no hint of hesitation, leaning into you with the full weight of his body, you hear him finally drop the vibrator as it lands on the carpet with a dull thud.

Fuck, his tongue tastes good – like tobacco and peppermint chewing gum, soft and hungry as it writhes against yours. He does what he can with his one free hand, starting tastefully with a cup of your cheek, then a hold of the side of your neck, down to your shoulder – before plunging into a greedy handful of your breast, kneading it like dough.

His wet and eager lips drag along from yours, taking soft bites out of your cheek, hot tongue licking from your jaw to your neck, where he burrows his teeth. You let out a breathy whimper, fervid fingers clutch and claw at his chest through his t-shirt, using the fabric to pull him closer. His busy hand ventures along your waist, taking a palmful of your hip and tugging it only slightly towards him.

Impatient, ravenous, your fingers slither down his firm stomach to the waistband of his jeans, fumbling to get his button undone; you feel him smile against your skin, a breathy chuckle, before his other hand moves to stop you with a hold of your wrist.

He releases your neck from his maw, standing upright with a fucking cocky and self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. You let go of his button and return your hands to your sides, worried you’d been too eager, put him off with your fervour.

“Glad to know it’s this easy to get ye hot n’ bothered,” he drawls, taking another drag of what is now nearly just the butt.

“No idea what you mean,” you pant, utterly breathless, you sweep some stray hair from your forehead with your palm.  “I’m not hot and bothered.”

“Aren’t you?” He goads, and the hand that clutches your hip sneaks towards your centre, prompting you to hold your breath; he snakes it over your mound, gliding it brazenly between your closed legs.

His shrewd eyes watch you, arrogantly, as he palms your aching pussy through the thin fabric of your bodysuit – under which you wore no panties, you wonder if he can feel how damp it is. He pushes a coaxing pressure against your covered clit with the heel of his palm, forcing you to whine in desperation; your insatiable hands return to his chest, balling the fabric of his t-shirt into your fists – and he only chortles.

“I could fry an egg on that,” he says.

And suddenly you snort, breaking into cackling laughter as you shove him away with both hands. “God, you’re disgusting!”

He laughs with you, proud of himself, he finally takes off the fucking bunny ears.

“I could hang a towel on that,” you jab, eyes suddenly caught on the frightening tent pitched in his roomy trousers. That can’t be real.

“You could hang a lot on it,” he agrees rakishly, chuckling, palming the length under his pants to tuck it away.

You try to contain your giggles as you push yourself upright, attempting to un-fluster yourself by smoothing your hair and wiping the dampness of his saliva from your neck. You feel the slippery wetness of your cunt with a step. “You’re evil,” you spit, still throbbing from his attention.

“Cannae fuck you yet,” he declares bluntly, turning to dump the end of his cigarette into your paintbrush cup full of brown water.

“Why not?” You pout, whingeing like a spoilt brat.

He returns with a debonair grin. “Gotta give you a reason to see me again.”

[georgiebrits]

Sacrifice - Kim Sunoo

You are sitting on a cozy couch in your small apartment. The room is dimly lit, casting shadows on the grimy walls, and his sour smell emanates from the unmade sheets. Sunoo, your boyfriend, lays beside you with a satisfied expression on his face, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil. You can't help but feel guilty about all of Sunoo's sacrifices, quitting his job and moving away from family to be with you.’

Sunoo turns to face you, his expression turning from content to concerned. "Hey, what's wrong? You seem upset," he says, reaching out to touch your arm gently.

Sunoo listens attentively as you express your concerns about the music industry and Korea. "I understand that it's hard for you to see me give up my music career and move away from my family, but being with you means more to me than any job or material possession. You make me truly happy, and I don't regret choosing you over anything else," he says, his voice sincere.

“You could’ve had everything you ever wanted without me.”

Sunoo sits up, looking at you with a pained expression. "No, I couldn't have. You are everything I've ever wanted in my life, and I will always choose you over anything else. Money, success, none of that means anything without the people you love. You mean everything to me," he says, taking your hand in his.

“You mean everything to me, but I took away your future.”

Sunoo shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You didn't take away my future, you are my future. We will create a life together that is full of love and happiness, and that's all that matters to me. Don't worry about what could have been, let's focus on what we have now," he says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Sunoo leans in and captures your lips in a passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body as he pulls you closer to him. "I want to feel you, to show you how much I want to be with you," he whispers against your lips before trailing kisses down your neck, his hands still exploring every inch of your body.

You close your eyes and let out a soft moan, feeling overwhelmed by Sunoo's love and passion. All of your worries and guilt fade away as you give yourself completely to him, moving with him in perfect harmony as you express your love for each other. Sunoo's touch brings you to the heights of ecstasy, his love for you evident in every caress and kiss.

As the morning light streams in through the window, Sunoo looks at you with a hungry gaze, desire evident in his eyes. Without a word, he rolls on top of you, his body pressing down against yours as he kisses you fiercely. You can feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against your thigh, and you moan softly in response, craving his touch once again.

Sunoo breaks the kiss and looks at you with a smirk. "We don't have much time before I have to leave for work," he says, his voice husky with desire. "But I want to make every second count." He leans down to kiss you again, his hands eagerly exploring your body. You can feel the heat building between you, the connection between you and Sunoo growing stronger with every passing moment.

You gasp as Sunoo enters you, filling you completely with his hardness. The sensation of being connected to him once again is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself tightening around him as he thrusts into you with increasing urgency. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper as you moan his name, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Sunoo's eyes are locked on yours, a look of intense love and passion burning in them as he moves inside you, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy once again.

You dig your nails into Sunoo's biceps as he thrusts into you, feeling your orgasm building rapidly. The urgency of his movements only serves to increase the pleasure, and you know that you're close. Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Sunoo's alarm goes off, the sound harsh and jarring in the stillness of the room. "I have to leave in five minutes," he says, the urgency in his voice matching the feeling of his movements. You whimper in frustration, wanting nothing more than to stay wrapped up in his arms forever. But you know that he has to go, that reality is calling him back to the world outside.

Sunoo's movements become even more urgent as the alarm continues to blare, and you feel yourself reaching the peak of pleasure. With a loud cry, you come undone around him, your body writhing with ecstasy. But before you can even catch your breath, he's already dressing and kissing you quickly. "I love you," he says, his voice filled with longing. "I'll see you tonight." And with that, he's gone, leaving you alone and sitting on his couch, still feeling the echoes of his touch on your skin.

You can't help but feel a twinge of guilt as Sunoo leaves for work, knowing that he's given up so much for you. But as you bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking, you feel that guilt melting away, replaced by a sense of deep love and connection to him. You realize that as long as you have each other, nothing else in the world really matters, and that thought brings a smile to your face. You resolve to make the most of your time together, to cherish every moment, and show him the same depths of love and devotion that he's shown to you.

[im-poltergeist]

Towers and Thorns (Fanfic vers)

tags: bodyguard!Ghost x royal!reader, older Ghost, first fic, might be crappy idk, multiple parts, might be nsfw down the line, english is not my first language so feel free to correct me. 🌻

Part 1 🌻 Part 2 🌻 Part 3

Your heels click against the polished stone floor with every step that you take. Heavy thuds from boots coming closer behind you.

“I was just wondering when you’d join me”, you say to the man behind you.

“Had to have a laugh at your poor time management skills”, Ghost replies, falling in to step with you.

“Hilarious.” You roll your eyes.

“Always am, your highness.”

Ghost opens the door to the grand dining hall with his head bowed to you. You walk in, a polite smile with teeth. To make it seen genuine. Or something. The wall opposite you has portraits of previous rulers. Ranging from the one before your mother to one from as early as the 18 hundreds. All in neat but extravagant golden frames. In front of the wall there is a long wooden table. Decorated cleanly with a white table cloth, flowers in pink and lilac and lit candles. At the tale sits your mother. A crown decorates her head. You bow your head to her and make your way towards the table around the edge of the room. If you’d look out the windows you’d see the flowerbeds in the garden. Full of red, white and pink roses. The afternoon sunlight casting the room in a warm yellow glow.

On your mothers left side sits the president, and on her right your father. There is an empty seat next to him. Your seat. You hurry towards the chair. Shooting your mother a quick apology as you pass by behind her. You sit down and smooth out your dress. Your father gives you a stern look.

“Sorry”, you mouth to him. He nods back. Apology accepted. You exhale. You look around at the other two tables. One to your left and the other to your right. The table to your right is designated to the families that are close to the crown. There’s the Callahans, the Makarovs and Marshall and his parents, ew. At the table to your right is, oh god no. Your cousins are sat smirking in your direction. Well, four out of five. You eldest cousin, Grace, keeps her head down. Gaze on the plate in front of her. She’s in a light pink dress that she thinks hides her already growing baby bump, it does nothing of the sort. A shadow passes behind her. No, not a shadow. A balaclava clad man who somehow blends in like a chameleon into the dim light of the dining hall. He’s a ghost alright.

“How kind of you to join us, your highness”, The president addresses. Earning him amused chuckles from various people in the room. Your eyes dart to him.

“I do sincerely apologize. I’m afraid that my poor time management skills have struck again”, you answer. Causing many people in the room to laugh. Including a snicker from behind you. The corners of your mouth twitch upward. The president chuckles. The tension in the room eases. The conversations start flowing and you let out a breath. Your mother and father are swept in to a conversation with the president. Theres a joke about tea. Something about a wall. You don't pay attention.

Your eyes wander around the room again. They sweep past your cousins towards the door. Next to the door stands Gaz, or Kyle, which is his real name. His dark skin and neatly trimmed hair fits in like a piece of a puzzle with the rest of the room. Elegant but with the touch of don't mess with me Im a bodyguard. Next to him on the other hand is a man who does the exact opposite. The mohawk on his head standing out like an eyesore. His slightly rugged look may be appealing to some woman. But in this context it stands out like a drop of blood on cotton. Even though thats the case he is far from ugly. Wait a minute. Isn't that? Yes its is. It is the bodyguard that Grace is rumored to have a relationship with. Why on earth is he here? We don't need the scandal to take fire once again. It has barley burned out.

You pry your eyes away from the man. Looking towards the table on your right instead. The Callahans are talking with the Makarovs about something you can't hear. Marshalls parents are listening in to the conversation. But Marshall himself is staring at you. Shooting you a cocky grin as your eyes meet his. You look away in disgust.

The first corse is served. It is some kind of soup with tiny vegetable squares floating around below the drizzle of oil. It tastes alright. It's nothing special. Apparently it's supposed to warm up the stomach before the main course. What nonsense. There are so many better options to serve as an appetizer. Especially when the President is visiting.

The main corse plays out the same way. Some kind of meat, grayish and dry. The royal family cant eat raw meat in case of food poisoning. You do it anyway. The chefs rules are much looser when the palace is empty of guests. The president keeps talking with your family. He goes on and on about something that you cant be bothered to listen to. Until your name is mentioned that is.

"What", you ask. Suddenly interested in the conversation.

"Would you consider yourself a republican or a liberal", the president asks you. The strained smile on his face tells you that it was the second time he asked.

"Im not allowed to vote, nor am i allowed to take a stand in politics", you answer. The answer had been drilled in to your very bones. You cant express yourself politically. Especially not right now.

"Come on. This is just a friendly conversation between two acquaintances. Theres no need to follow such formalities." He pushes. You clench your fist under the table. Why cant he just drop it. Your father tenses beside you as you open your mouth to speak.

"Like I said, I will not speak on the matter", you reply. A polite but stern answer. Your father relaxes again. The president laughs and says something about rule following and you stop listening again.

When dessert rolls around you would like to be anywhere but in the dining hall. Your cousins have had too much to drink. Probably something stronger than alcohol as well by the way they constantly disappear in to the bathroom and talk so loud that you can hear almost every word that they are saying. When you have finished your desert you politely excuse yourself to get some fresh air and hurry out of the dining hall.

When you get into the corridor outside of the big door you take a deep breath. It finally feels like you can get enough oxygen. You walk towards the garden. Fresh evening air cant hurt. The roses should be blooming. A hand grips your wrist and tugs.

taglist: @panikk-attackkk

[2baddiesfanfics]

I'll Catch You When You Fall From Grace

Pairing: Furina x Arlecchino

Tags: Rescue, Rescue Missions, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Possessive Sex, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

In the aftermath of Furina's fall from grace as the Hydro Archon, she faces the challenges of adapting to a mundane human life. As she navigates the complexities of being a regular citizen, she learns that with former fame comes potential danger. When she finds herself in trouble, who will be there to answer her call for help?

Read on Ao3

It had been nearly a year since Furina had fallen from grace as archon and began living her life as a normal human. The events of her trial had come and gone, and she was trying her best to adapt to the mundane banality of what it took to make her way in the world not as the God of Hydro, but as plain and simple Furina.

“Lady Furina…”

“Neuvillette, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. It’s just Furina now. There’s no need for formalities. I’m no different than any other citizen of Fontaine.”

“Fine. Furina. You must listen to me. Just because you are no longer archon, it doesn’t mean you can go about your business and throw caution to the wind,” he chastised as he threw down that morning’s copy of The Steambird.

“Have you seen the front page today? I’m doing my best to bring these criminals to justice, but few seem to respect me as much as they once revered you.”

She had indeed heard the rate of petty crime had increased in the wake of her reign. Chalking it up to the growing pains of a nation looking to find its footing once more, Furina didn’t have time to worry about maybes and what-ifs. It wasn’t her fault the only time she could take care of her errands was after the sun went down. In a way, she was still a celebrity and found it awkward and difficult to turn people’s requests for a photo or autograph down.

“I sincerely appreciate your concern, oh great Hydro Sovereign,” she said with a sad smile. “But I need to learn how to navigate my new normal now. I’m tough. I’ve been through so much this past year I’d feel sorry for the sad sap who decided to test me on my weekly grocery run. Please. Take heart. I’ve got this.”

Neuvillette heaved a heavy sigh. “I understand that, Lad-…Furina. But I need you to be about your senses, do you understand me? I cannot always be there to protect you.”

She gave his hand a reassuring pat. “I’ll do my best, friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, macaroni is on sale today and I’d be livid if I got to the food merchants after they closed up shop for the day. Good day.”

Furina exited his office, waving to the few remaining melusines on duty, and promptly realized she had left her wallet at home. Cursing herself, she made her way back to her apartment in the dark, streetlights flickering with a flame that made her heart flutter.

Surprisingly the first person to come visit her after all was said and done was the Knave. Now that she had nothing to hide from Arlecchino, she was no longer frightened by her. What was the worst she could do? The answer, as it turned out, was fall in love. Furina was tired. Tired of the theatrics. Tired of putting on a show. Tired of pretending to be something - someone - she was not.

It had started as nothing more than a one-night stand. The Knave was in Fontaine on business and Furina was lonely. She had come to apologize for how she had treated her without knowing the full story. The former archon was desperate to feel something, anything, and Arlecchino carried herself with such confidence there was no way she could fight the desire to let someone else take control for a change.

Standing in the sparse glow of the window of her apartment, she felt her cheeks warm as she remembered the events of that night. How big her hands were compared to her own. The way she held her with such grace while still vigorously taking what she wanted. The heat of her lips searing into her skin, her teeth marking her possessively.  She swallowed hard as she replayed the events like a film in her head.

And then everything went dark.

Arlecchino sat in her office at the House of the Hearth, a steady throbbing growing in both of her temples. Physical work was fine. She actually relished any chance she got to shadow those who were of interest to the Fatui. What she couldn’t stand was paperwork. So much so it tended to pile up on her desk when she was out doing said physical work.

The scratch of her pen as she signed her name time after time after time was starting to drive her mad. Her hand moved on autopilot, her head elsewhere. How she wished the sound could be replaced by the sweet innocence of Furina’s whimpers caused by her touch. The way she looked at her with those doe-like eyes so trusting and vulnerable. Her mouth moving on hers so eager to learn and please.

The nib of her quill was finally disrupted by the slam of her study doors. The Knave looked up angrily, her eyes burning with irritation. She had specifically requested she not be bothered unless it was a life-or-death situation.

“Lynette…I thought I told you-“ The look on the girl’s face took her aback. She was never one to get overly emotional about, well, anything.

“Father! Lady Furina’s been kidnapped!”

The irritation borne from interruption had evolved into pure rage. “…what?”

“Lyney and Freminet just came back from shopping and said officers were stationed everywhere. They ran into Clorinde and she said they’ve been searching nonstop!”

Snatching her cloak from the rack behind her chair, she rushed out of the office without a word.

————————

Furina could hear the deep whispers of her captors as they discussed plans she couldn’t quite make out. She concentrated on regulating her breathing as she tried to remain calm. Without a vision, she was powerless. Never had she lamented her lost status as archon until now.

The back of her head was tender. One clean hit and she went under. Straining her senses, she tried to determine through sound, smell, and feel where they could have possibly taken her. The distant crash of waves and the salty scent of the sea hinted at the fact she must not be too far from home.

Surely they’ve noticed I’m missing by now…right? Someone…Neuvillette, Clorinde, even Navia…certainly someone must have sensed something wasn’t right.

Immediately she jumped to the conclusion her life was over. Perhaps it was overzealous fanatics who felt betrayed after they discovered the truth about her godhood. Regardless of whatever the situation was, there was no way she was making it out of this alive. And then…her frantic thoughts were interrupted by an earthshattering explosion.

Bloodcurdling screams echoed through what she could only guess was a cave by the ocean. What she heard next made her heart soar.

“Don’t you fucking touch her, you piece of shit!” She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even after only one night, the unique timbre of Arlecchino’s words shook her to her core. The Knave snatched one of the men by the collar of his shirt.

“Please! Please, no! Have mercy! We only thought we might be able to get some ransom money for her. I swear to the archons we haven’t done anything to her!”

“Shut the FUCK up you useless excuse for a human being,” she spat venomously. “I don’t give a damn what your plan was. Where. Is. She?”

“Just a bit deeper. Keep going, we’re not hiding anyth-“ His answer was cut short as she bashed his head against the wall.

“A-Arlecchino? Is that you?” As hard as she tried to keep her voice steady, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. “Arlecchino! Please! Help! I’m here! Hurry!”

Swift footfalls thudded against damp stone. The Knave gingerly undid the knot of her blindfold, careful to avoid her injury, and her vision exploded with light. Her tears obscured the face of her savior.

“Furina, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re ok. Nobody’s left,” she explained. Under her breath she muttered, “I made sure of it.”

She tumbled forward into her arms, her tiny, frail body shaking. If the Knave had gripped her any harder, she feared she might break her. “H-h-how? How did you find me?”

Arlecchino let out a wry chuckle. “My dear,” she said as she propped her chin up so she’d look her in the eyes. “I’m a Fatui Harbinger. Do you honestly think anything gets past my network of informants? Now, there will be plenty of time for questions later. Let’s get you home.”

——————

Back at the House of the Hearth, Arlecchino reported to Clorinde the coordinates of the hideout where she had discovered Furina. Closing the door behind her, the sound of the special forces marching off trickled away. The Knave turned to face her.

“Thank you…for saving me,” Furina murmured.

“No need to thank me, Droplet,” she said with a tenderness that surprised the former archon. Arlecchino winced noticeably as she made her way closer. While she was an accomplished and fearsome fighter, her emotions had gotten the better of her this time around and she had suffered a few hits due to the distraction of her search.

“You must let me tend to your injuries,” Furina chastised as she pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit.

“That’s not necessary. Just a few scratches. I’ll have Lyney assist me later.”

Furina pouted, her blue eyes shimmering intensely. “I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

The Knave let out a sigh of “fine” before shedding her coat and doing as she was asked.

The girl tended to the scratch on her face, carefully cleaning the area and placing a small bandage to mitigate any risk of infection. Arlecchino could feel her fingers trembling as her adrenaline was still in overdrive from the earlier encounter. While she’d never take advantage of her vulnerability, the Knave would be lying to herself if she had said she didn’t find her defenselessness arousing.

“Oh, your leg!” Furina pointed to a stain on Arlecchino’s slacks. A light blush colored her cheeks. “Would you mind removing these so I can patch you up?”

The Knave swallowed reluctantly. Allowing someone else to be in command was an entirely new sensation. Her heart pounded in her chest. Unzipping her pants, she slid them down and stepped out of them. The former archon once again treated the area with shaking hands.

Grabbing Furina’s wrist (perhaps a bit too tightly), she calmly stated, “Furina, darling, you’re safe now. Please…try to calm down. I’ve told the police force everything and ensured I…eliminated any immediate threat.”

Arlecchino looked her in the eyes and was perplexed by the emotions she sensed. Wait…this isn’t fear…this is…

Her contemplation was interrupted by a soft pair of lips attacking her own. There was no sign of hesitation in her movements as her mouth collided against hers. “Archons…I want you…so badly Knave…”

Fuck self-control. Arlecchino growled in response as Furina deepened the kiss. Her lips danced clumsily down her neck, the Knave tilting her head to give her clearer access. “Droplet…are you sure?” She asked breathlessly.

Furina moved to straddle her lap. “Yes,” she breathed before crashing into her once more. Sliding her tongue across the Knave’s, her nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt.

“Would it kill you to dress a little less, oh I don’t know, fashionable? Too many fucking buttons,” the girl huffed between kisses.

Arlecchino chuckled in response. “My, it’s certainly easy to get you riled up, hmm? Next time I’ll keep the jacket on and make you really work for it.”

Heaving a sigh of relief as she undid the last latch, Furina tossed the shirt aside and trailed her lips to her breasts. She savored the taste of her skin, licking her nipple and then blowing cool air across it to get it to rise.

Her hand slid down Arlecchino’s toned stomach and into her lacy black panties. Tracing her lips, she gathered her arousal on her fingertips and glided them gently across her clit. The Knave bucked her hips in response to Furina’s delicate touch.

“Seems I’m not the only one the adrenaline was getting to,” Furina chuckled as she brought her soaked fingers to her lips and sucked.

Arlecchino moaned in response to the wanton action. What’s gotten into her? Surely she hasn’t had much practice...The thought of anyone else laying a finger on her made her seethe with jealousy. Although they had only been together like this once before, Furina was different this time and it was driving her mad with lust.

She hopped off her lap and dropped to her knees in front of her, slowly spreading her legs to kneel between them. Gingerly kissing the scratch on her thigh, the Knave flinched before she felt her move to do the same on the other. Furina pulled her panties to the side before swirling her tongue on her sensitive bud.

“Ah…Furina!” She stifled herself from letting out an embarrassingly loud moan through gritted teeth.

Pleased with the response, she continued to suck as she slid two fingers into her. Arlecchino bucked against her face in rhythm with her movements. Sliding her hands into Furina’s hair, she pulled her as close as she could. The former archon could feel her contracting against her, pulled out her fingers, and replaced them with her tongue. Grabbing the Knave’s hips, she drew her closer as she darted her tongue in and out of her. With a few more thrusts, the woman crumbled under Furina’s ministrations.

Slick covered her face as she watched Arlecchino breathe heavily. Her gaze snapped back to Furina’s and there was something about the situation that made the girl feel as if she were a rabbit cornered by a starving wolf.

“While that was delightful, you must tell me - where did you learn to do that? Surely you haven’t been using your newfound freedom to go around fucking anything you please?”

Furina was taken aback. “H-how could you think that? I only wanted to thank you for what you did. And for your information - not that it’s any of your business - I haven’t been with anyone since that night…”

Arlecchino relaxed noticeably. Get ahold of yourself, woman. You didn’t have an agreement of exclusivity. She’s an adult and can do what she wants.

A peal of high-pitched laughter echoed through the room. “Oh my archons! Are you…you’re jealous, aren’t you? Oh, that’s rich!” She grabbed her stomach as she tried to stop herself from cackling. “The big, bad Fatui Harbinger is afraid I might have learned a few tricks from someone else, hmm?”

The Knave stood abruptly and gripped her by the neck. “I’ll take that to mean you’re just well-read. Perhaps some new light novels imported from Inazuma? You must have a lot of time to kill now that you’re free.” She forced the girl to walk backward until she was caught between her and the bookshelf in her study.

“Let me make myself clear,” she whispered, deadly serious. “You. Are. Mine.” Wedging her leg between the girl’s thighs, Furina panted heavily. “You say you want to thank me? Then be a good girl and fuck yourself.”

“…w-what?”

“Did I stutter, Ms. Furina? You’ll shove your panties to the side and ride my thigh until you come while I watch. Understood?”

Furina swallowed hard before nodding her head. Lifting her skirt, Arlecchino was rewarded with the sight of sky-blue silk lingerie. She licked her lips hungrily as the girl moved them, a wet line already staining the front and dripping onto her exposed skin.

She’s not fooling anyone. She wants to be wanted. I’m simply giving her what she needs.

“Very good. Now…move,” Arlecchino commanded.

Furina began to rock back and forth against her while keeping eye contact. The steady rhythm she created moved in time with their breathing, connecting them in a way so intimate it made the Knave shutter. It was her turn to feel fear…the fear of ever having to share her with anyone else. Furina was submitting herself, obeying completely. It was like a drug to Arlecchino and she would never be able to live without it again.

The Knave closed the distance between them, capturing her lips. Furina moaned into her mouth as she increased the speed of her hips. The groan the Knave let out betrayed her feelings as she bit her bottom lip.

“Fuck…Knave…are you…happy now?”

“I won’t be happy until I possess you, body and soul,” she replied, her hands now gripping her hips. Arlecchino took over, moving her at a pace she alone controlled. “Didn’t I tell you you’re mine? You’ll come when I say you can.”

Furina whined in frustration. “Please…”

“Please what, Droplet? Ask properly.”

“Please…Father.”

Arlecchino almost forgot to breathe.

“Good girl. Lose control. You have my permission.”

Her hips jerked wildly, bringing her to orgasm fast and furiously. Spent, she collapsed against the Knave. Arlecchino lifted her small body with ease and brought her to the bedroom adjacent to her study. Laying her down on the plush mattress, she covered her with blankets Furina surmised must have cost more than what she personally made in at least a month.

Kissing the top of her head, the Knave stroked her hair as she sat next to her. “You’ve had quite the day. I think it might be best for you to get some rest now.” She was surprised to feel the former archon’s hand reach for hers.

“I think I’d be able to rest better if you’d join me. Am I not yours now?”

An uncharacteristically warm smile graced the woman’s lips. “Touché, Droplet. I suppose I could use some sleep myself. It’s not every day one rescues an archon, after all.”

“Former archon,” Furina corrected her somberly.

Arlecchino looked deeply into her eyes, as blue as the Fontainian ocean. “You’ll always be my archon, Furina.”

[little-diable]

Infinity - Negan

My tiktok is filled with Negan edits from dead city, so I had to write another soft Negan drabble – no worries, no spoilers (I'm not watching the show). Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader reminds Negan of the love they share

Warnings: none, just some making out and some softer Negan

Pairing: Negan x fem!reader (900 words)

“Hey, look at me.” Her voice didn’t tremble, didn’t give away the overwhelming wave of emotions clashing through her system. The cloudy sky added to the gloomy atmosphere the two were engulfed by, like a translucent veil reminiscent of their past years together. “We’ll make it, like we’ve managed to for a while now.”

His eyes were filled with pain. A pain so blinding, Negan had to swallow down the ever growing lump in his throat. His eyes projected the fear he didn’t dare voice out, the anger he still felt about the world going to shit all these years ago. There was not one ounce of happiness swimming in the pupils that watched her every move, following her around like a shadow.

“Negan,” (y/n) whispered his name, hands cupping his cold cheeks, feeling his salt and pepper beard against her palms. “We’re in this together, together on the run, together stuck in this awful life. And you know what? Being stuck with you makes this life a hundred times more durable.” 

A raspy chuckle bubbled out of him, eyes momentarily fluttering close to cling to her soft words. (Y/n)’s thumbs kept stroking his cheeks, not daring to let go of her lover just yet, not when she knew that his mind and body were still filled with pain, pain that had grown stronger ever since losing Lucille, ever since killing all these people, ever since having to run and hide from those that wanted to see him dead. (Y/n) had been right there, for the better part of the years following the start of the apocalypse, listening to Negan’s every fear, lending him a helping hand and a shoulder to cry on.

“I love you, doll. I’m sorry you have to go through this with me.” She shook her head, lips tightly pressed together to keep her frustrated sigh from rumbling through her. Negan had always struggled to give into the emotions that made him appear weak, at least that’s what he called them, he had always struggled to let people in, but with her it had been easy, almost too easy, and yet he still didn’t believe her words.

“How many more times do I have to tell you that I wouldn’t trade a life with you for anything?” It was a whisper, and yet the words rang in his ears louder than shots going off, stronger than the force he had used to bash people’s heads in. 

“Don’t say that, we both know it ain’t true.” Her thumbs stopped moving, hands tightening their grip on his face to tilt Negan’s head back up, forcing him to look at her. (Y/n)‘s eyes were filled with determination, a determination so foreign and yet so familiar, wordlessly telling her lover that there was no way out of this conversation. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you truly understand the way I love you. There was nothing in my old life I loved as much as I love you. Would I like to get another chance to wake in my old bed, to drink coffee as I listen to the rain pitter pattering against my windows before having to go to work? Of course I would. Would I like to get another chance to hug my parents again, to tell them how much they mean to me? Of course I would, in a heartbeat. But if I’d have to trade you and our relationship for it, I wouldn’t. I’d always choose you, Negan. There’s no me without you.” Tears formed in his eyes, lips trembling as Negan tried to keep breathing, choking on the weight of her words, on the sincerity dripping from her lips like rain falling from the dark sky as a thunderstorm was just about to hit. He reached for one of her hands, pushing it against his chest, allowing (y/n) to feel the racing beat of his heart. She was the reason he kept fighting, the reason he was still breathing the same air she inhaled into her lungs, his end and his beginning. 

Negan’s lips met hers, sharing a kiss that managed to give room to all the emotions he couldn’t put into words, the love he felt for her, ever growing like the rising moon. A love so infinite that even the millions of years old stars forming a nebula filled with the brightest colours as they died hadn’t ever seen a love so pure. 

Their kiss grew more heated, lips parted to allow their tongues to move, drawing a soft moan from her. (Y/n)’s heart was picking up its beat, roaring in her chest to pump more blood, filling her veins like poison, a poison Negan shared with her, unable to find any antidotes. It was a kiss so raw, so pure, unlike any they’ve shared before.

Her back was pressed against the nearest wall, making her breath hitch in her chest as Negan’s hands found her waist, pushing himself even closer to her trembling frame. Raindrops started to fall from the sky, from the dark clouds that grew more black with every passing moment. They parted from one another, allowing their eyes to wander up to the sky, relishing in the silence for a few moments before Negan pulled her through the rain, set on finding shelter.

The rain will pass, as the upcoming days, weeks, and months will, their lives may change once again, but their love will stick around, only growing stronger.

[burnurhousedown]

Eternal sacrifice

disclaimer: ooc kai? Y/n death, cannibalism, cultists

The dim light of the flickering candles cast long shadows across the walls of the basement that Kai turned into a sanctuary for his cult. The scent of incense mixed with the earthy smell of the wooden floor, and the faint sound of the wain outside hitting the window, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. In the center of the room stood a makeshift altar adorned with photographs of Y/N, candles lit in their honor, and offerings Kai had collected over time. Each piece- a flower, a handwritten note, a token of devotion, they all spoke volumes of his affection for them.

Y/N had been a constant in Kai’s chaotic life, grounding him with their unwavering support and love. They were everything he'd ever wanted, a beacon of light amidst the darkness he often found himself enveloped in. Their acceptance of him, flaws and all, had sparked something within Kai that felt both foreign and just right. He sometimes wondered how they could see him not just as a man driven by ambition and madness, but as someone worthy of love.

"You’re my religion.." he would whisper to them, his voice laced with sincerity, as he gazed into their eyes, reflecting the flickering candlelight.

They'd smile softly, brushing a hand against his cheek. "And you’re mine, Kai. We’re in this together."

But as the political climate became more uncertain, so did the dangers surrounding Kai. His fervent followers idolized him, but not everyone shared their beliefs. One night, as they sat together in their modest living room, Kai sensed a shift in the air. The tension was palpable, like a storm about to break.

"Y/N," he began, his voice serious. "I need you to be careful. There are people out there who want to hurt me."

They nodded, concern etched on their features. "I know, Kai. But you have to remember that I’m not afraid. I’m here for you, no matter what."

Little did they know how that unwavering love and loyalty would be their demise.

A week later, the warning signs came to fruition. A figure lurked in the shadows, a hired hitman sent by one of Kai’s political adversaries, someone who feared his growing influence and sought to eliminate the threat he posed. They had been watching Kai for days, waiting for the opportunity to strike. That moment arrived on a chilly night when the moon was cloaked in clouds, obscuring the world in darkness.

The basement was filled with the sounds of Kai giving a speech to his followers, planning their next violent escapade. He felt invincible, a king in his own right. But outside, the hitman was closing in.

As the speech reached its climax, Y/N stepped outside for a moment of fresh air. They loved the chaos, the energy of Kai’s followers, but they needed a moment of clarity. It was during that fleeting moment of peace that they felt it- a presence behind them.

Before they could react, the hitman lunged, a blade glinting in the low light. Y/N's instincts kicked in. They turned, arms raised to defend themselves, but the knife found its mark, plunging deep into their side. The shock of pain ignited a fire in them, but Y/N's thoughts were only of Kai.

Inside, Kai felt a sudden chill, as if the very air around him had shifted. It was a feeling he had grown accustomed to—something was wrong. He halted the chant, eyes darting toward the door.

"Y/N?" he called, panic rising in his throat.

A moment later, a scream echoed through the night, a sound that pierced through the reverie of the cultists. Kai’s heart raced as he rushed toward the source, pushing past his followers who looked on in confusion.

When he burst through the door, his breath hitched at the sight before him. Y/N lay on the ground, blood pooling around them, the hitman already retreating into the shadows, the task incomplete. Kai felt rage boil within him, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming horror of the moment.

“No!” he shouted, rushing to their side, cradling their head in his arms. "Y/N, please!"

Their eyes met his, pain flickering in their gaze. "Kai… I-" they gasped, the words strained. "Im sorry.."

Kai’s heart shattered as he watched the life drain from them, each breath weaker than the last. “No, no, no,” he chanted, desperation clawing at him. “Stay with me, please!”

But the darkness crept closer, and Y/N’s body grew still. Their once vibrant presence began to fade, leaving Kai in a world filled with shadows. He felt as if the earth had cracked open beneath him, swallowing all that he had loved and cherished. Not even when his parents killed eachother had he felt such pain

In that moment, something within him snapped. He was no longer just a man, he was a creature of wrath and revenge. Y/N had sacrificed themselves for him, and he would ensure that their sacrifice was not in vain.

After that night, Kai’s cult took on a new fervor. He carefully wrapped Y/N’s lifeless body, his mind consumed with a dark determination. He couldn’t let them go, they were his everything. The basement that once served as a sanctuary now became a crypt of devotion.

With grim resolve, Kai fashioned a makeshift altar for Y/N, placing their body at its center. As his followers gathered around, he spoke in a voice that rang with conviction. “Tonight, we honor Y/N. They sacrificed themselves for our cause, it wont be in vai”

The cultists nodded, their faces a mix of reverence and fear. They could feel the energy shift in the room, an electric charge that made the hairs on their arms stand. Kai’s voice took on a fervent tone. “Tonight, we commune with our beloved. We take Y/N’s essence into ourselves!”

He began to cut small pieces from Y/N’s body, a ritual of sorts. The room fell into a trance-like state, the followers kneeling, eager to partake in this dark communion. As they consumed the flesh of the one Kai loved, he watched, his heart pounding with a mix of grief and twisted elation.

“Through this act, we unite as one,” he proclaimed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Y/N lives on in each of us!”

They were no longer just followers; they were vessels of Y/N’s spirit, carriers of the love and sacrifice that bound them together. Kai felt a sense of power surge within him. He had lost Y/N, but their essence would thrive within his cult, ensuring their memory lived on.

Days turned into weeks, and the narrative of Y/N’s sacrifice became a foundational myth for Kai’s followers. They spoke of Y/N as a martyr, a divine figure who had given everything for the cause. And in their hearts, Kai was the vessel through which Y/N would continue to exist.

But within him, the loss was an insatiable void. He could feel Y/N’s absence in every heartbeat, a reminder of what had been taken from him. He would often sit in the basement, staring at the altar, whispering their name like a prayer.

“I will make them pay.. I swear” he vowed to the shadows, plotting his revenge against those who had orchestrated their death.

The dark whispers of the cult echoed his sentiments, their allegiance to him deeper than ever. But in those quiet moments, Kai would always hear the softest of voices in his mind, reminding him of their love, of the gentle way they had accepted him. It was a voice that urged him not to forget who he was beneath the chaos, the darkness, and the wrath.

He was still Kai, and Y/N had believed in the man he could be.

With renewed determination, he turned his gaze to the horizon, vowing not only to seek vengeance but to honor Y/N's memory by making their dreams a reality. As he prepared to unleash chaos upon his adversaries, he knew one thing for certain: their love would be his guiding light in the darkness.

And in that darkness, he would carve a path for their legacy- a legacy built on sacrifice, devotion, and the undeniable bond they had shared.

A/N: first fanfic done! i feel like this is kinda shitty so if u have any criticism plsss lmk

[createdbytragedy]

IN THE END,BOTH OF US WE'RE BLIND, 'CAUSE YOU NEVER SAW ME AND I NEVER SAW ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: I think I made Beomgyu a bit too madly in love here, poor attempt at writing an angst, shitty grammar, not proofread and may contain misspelling

Synopsis: In all those years of being together, you never saw Beomgyu and he never saw anyone else but you

"What if I find someone new but still fall asleep to the thought of you?"

You had a special bond with Beomgyu. At least, used to. He remembered the first day he met you as the little girl in white dress. And you remembered him as the kind boy next door who later became your best friend.

Your childhood pictures included Beomgyu in almost everyone of them and if someone told you to share an incident of your childhood, it was impossible to share one with no Beomgyu in it. You were that close. All your childhood spent beside each other, either you in his house, eating the delicious sweets made by his mother or playing video games with his brother or him in your house, letting you put bows in his head and making him babysit your dolls.

You entered elementary school together while still clinging to each other's side. Both of you didn't leave any space for anyone else to enter your magical friendship.

Then came middle school, where both of your friend groups grow larger and more varied. You find new friends and so did Beomgyu but you still claimed each other as your best friend and preferred to walk home with just the two of you. The concept of crush was introduced and it would be a big, fat lie to say Beomgyu didn't have a crush on you. His friends would tease him whenever they caught him staring at you from across the classroom, talking to your girlies. You would smile and wave at him when you noticed him and he'd blush while his friends made cringey faces.

Typical childhood crush, you know.

Middle school end and came high school. Everything changed. For you, at least. When you started seeing more of the world and seeing other people, all Beomgyu saw was you.

You in your high school skirt, laughing with your friends as you walked past him. You weren't as close anymore, That was something he had to admit. Both of your interest were different which separates you. You grew interest in arts and fashion while his passion revolves around being a singer, which means most of your class were different. Your bodies changed, with you growing more curves that sure turned heads in the hallways. The long conversations turned into small talks before school until one of your girls would pull you away. You weren't as much regular in his house anymore. Always on a friend's house for a girl's night or some project. But he can't help the way his heart skip a beat whenever you smiled at him from the window of your house that overlooked his. The one thing that didn't change about you was your smile and your personality. Both of them remained as cheerful and sincere.

All he saw was you even when multiple girls asked him out for prom that year. Declining politely in hope that you would turn around to look at him again and just maybe be the one he goes to the anticipated prom with.

But you never did. You never saw him. Not that year. Not ever. Not when there was already a boy wrapping his arms around your waist as you looked at him with love and adoration. The look Beomgyu craves. Beomgyu skipped the first prom of his life that year. Curling in his room and playing video games.

He could only imagine you, with him, looking into each other's eyes as you slowed dance, shy smiles being exchanged. He wanted that to be him. Be the one who picked you up in your satin white gown, take your hand and place a kiss and watch the light blush appear on your face? Why can't you see him?

He closed the curtain, trying to ignore the sharp pain panging in his chest. But he can't get you out of his head.

All he saw was you even after the prom, the whole school buzzing with the aftermath of the spectacular night and the news of your new relationship with the boy. He remembered the immense pain starting to grow as you walked in hand in hand with a guy who didn't know how you liked to take your coffee. And once again, you walked past him.

You never saw him.

Oh, but how could he ever not fall for you when you give him a kind of smile that made his heart do summersaults and swarm of butterflies erupt in his stomach? How could he ever get over you when you always asked about his day when you happen to meet each other at the front door, both coming home from your day's activity with the orange tint of the setting sun illuminating your features as the summer breeze blew your hair in all direction while you smiled at him which makes him feel just a little bit too much emotions to control?

Like he could be the one to walk you home everyday like he used to.

Beomgyu was in love with you in ways that boy will never know. And that's why he was ready to give you up. Because he valued your happiness over his own. And you looked so happy holding hands and smiling and looking at him like he was your everything.

He can't have you. That's why he wanted to avoid you. Avoid seeing you with your so called lover, to be accurate. You had no idea about the clench in his heart and the desire to be the one running through his veins whenever he sees you both.

He tried to stay content with what you had. You looked happy and honestly, he was too. But the thought of you never left his mind at night. How he could be happier with you. Make you happier. But, he would never say that. He only returned smiles shot his way and satisfied himself with the small talks between classes. He liked to think that there was no one waiting for you when he talked to you. Like he still had a chance and you're heart wasn't already given to someone who didn't value it. But all his daydream won't last long when reality came crashing back in the form of a highschool teenage boy.

He needed to get his mind away from you, he needed to get a grip. But he decided to let you keep his heart. He lets you be the reason he was excited to go school. He let you make him smile and make him laugh and he let you break his heart million times but he still loved you. Though from afar and in the sidelines. He patiently waited for you in hopes that maybe you will see him. Standing right there and realizing that he's all you ever wanted. Like you were all he's ever wanted.

God, one sided love sucks, right?

His passion (other than you) would be his dream. To be a singer. And it was no surprise that he was over the moon when he got accepted in his favorite company as a trainee. He remembered jumping up and down with joy when he got the email. The news travelled fast enough thanks to Beomgyu's motor mouth and it was insane how hypocritic his classmates were. The usually discourteous boys who didn't give a damn about him were suddenly asking him to sit with him for lunch and others from the class who he didn't really have a good blood with were suddenly interested in his well being. And oh, Beomgyu was no idiot. He knew the guys were just trying to include themselves in his soon to be stardom but he would be lying if he said he didn't love the attention. He always did.

The only one who wasn't kissing his ass and buttering him up was you. And maybe the fact just made him miss you a little bit more. Amidst all affection and attention, he was missing yours.

So, he checked his watch and then went out the front door of his house, hides in the bushes for a few minutes until he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Hi, Beomgyu," he pretends to get startled by your voice as he twisted the door knob of his home ," Heard the news, congratulations!"

Your face was radiating by the sunlight just the way he likes it and he can't help the smile that etched onto his face , " You did? Word sure travels fast huh? I only told my friends about it and now the whole school knows. "

Your laughed ringed in his head minutes after you entered the door ," It sure does. I'm really happy for you. You sure got the looks and talent to be an idol. I'll be looking forward to seeing you on the screen. Good night, neighbor. " And with that, the door shuts behind you.

Neighbor, huh. So that was all Beomgyu was to you.

Maybe that's what made him work harder to be something more than a neighbor to you.

And maybe that's why he was determined to get selected.

And maybe that's why he got selected.

And maybe, just maybe, he was still as in love with you as he was 5 years ago.

And maybe that's why he never saw anyone else more beautiful than you in all those world tours, concerts, fan meets, and all over the country.

He only had eyes for you.

It may seem he may have forgotten such an insignificant person to you but you were on his mind every single night. Praying that you've broken up with your high school sweetheart.

And he was still praying on his way to Daegu for the holiday. His mother have told him about you coming back from abroad after finishing your course. He hadn't been able to see you on any of his visit to his home town since you also went to study abroad for your passion. He was ecstatic to meet you again after so many years.

His heart was beating fast the whole way, butterflies erupting and his mind filled with thoughts of what could happen. What he wanted to happen. He wondered if your smile still looked like the twinkle of stars in a moonless night and if your eyes still held the same amount of mystery and love as it did. Whatever may have changed of you, he knew one thing for sure that his feelings for you certainly didn't changed.

He reached his home, greeted his family, let the nostalgia of his childhood flood in his head, changed into comfy sweatpants and then stared at the window which overlooked your house. He looked at his phone then at the window. Phone, window, phone, window, phone, window.

And there you were. Walking down the road with a blue floral dress, writhing along your body and hugging your curves just right. Your hair looked longer since the last time he saw you. And the setting sun illuminates your face just the way he remembers it. His phone fell to the floor, long forgotten as he got up in a rush and reached for the door.

You stood in front of your door, like you always used to. And he looked at you and smiled before it falter off.

"Oh, hey, Beomgyu!! I didn't know you were in Daegu!! " you sounded happy, a wide smile stretching over your lips but all he could see was how your hand entangled with the man, standing next to you. So close that when the summer breeze blew your hair, it touched his face and fan over it.

"Hi......" his said, waving weakly as his eyes scanned over the space between both of your heads.

"Jagi, you know Beomgyu from TXT, right?" your words felt like a blunt knife jabbed into his heart ,"We used to go to the same school and we've been neighbors since childhood. Isn't that so privilege?"

A different guy but there's nothing new. The same old face that looked like they want something from you. That looked at you like you were just what your face showed. Like you were nothing more than a human with pretty face.

"Its so good to see you. Big star now, are we? I really enjoy listening to your music and I am really, really proud of you! feels good to brag to everyone I went to school with the one and only Beomgyu," your voice sounded so far when the only thing separating you both was the short wooden fence. He nodded, forcing a smile and trying not to let his eyes wander to your joined hands.

"Its good to be back in town. You've got a new friend there, huh? already replacing me?" he was in no mood for teasing but he decided to ignore the burning ache in his heart in hope that he'll get to hear your laugh.

"Oh, no," and you did. Eyes scrunching up into crescent as the heavenly sound slipped past your lips ," This is Yujin, my boyfriend of 3 years. We met at the uni." you said, proudly slinging an arm around the said male's waist. He smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead which made you giggle.

He clenched his fist, opened it then tap his index finger against his thigh, nodding his head like the scene wasn't so painful to watch for him.

"I'll see you around then. Good to have a star next door. " you said with a wink before disappearing inside with your boyfriend of 3 years.

Beomgyu stood there, frozen.

After 5 years, after being one of the most successful kpop idol, still, you didn't see him.

Never did.

His throat felt numb and he could feel a sensation he hasn't felt for so long. His heart pounded in his chest, heaving and shattered. The warm breeze blew his hair and he bites his lips as the echo of your laughter filled the silent lawn.

"Beomgyu, what would you like for din- oh my, darling, what happened?!" Beomgyu's mom asked as she saw Beomgyu come in through the door, lips trembling and crystal dew dropping from his eyes. Beomgyu sniffled and shook his head, unable to form words as his mother took him into her embrace.

He break down fully, full on sobbing and crying onto her shoulder ,"Eomma!! " he snivel as his mother run her hand up and down his back, trying to soothe the 23 year old like he was 3.

"My goodness, what happened, Beomgyu? " His mother asked trying to calm his son down ," why are you crying?!"

Beomgyu pulled out from the hug, sniffing and wiping his tears from the sleeves of his shirt and shook his head, smiling at his mother through the tears that blurred his vision.

"I just realised something," he said. His mother raised her brow in confusion, what on earth could be the realisation that made him cry out like he was still 3?

"Realised what?" She could see the sadness in her son's eyes. The flood of new tears collecting in his eyes once again.

"What happened, Beomgyu?" She asked, a bit more sternly this time as she cupped his face in her hands. Beomgyu smiled as more tears spilled down his cheeks. He couldn't even see anymore. Just breaking down because god, it hurts. It was suppose to just a little crush. Just a one sided love. How did you go from being his childhood best friend to a friend who no longer had long talks in the night and sneak out to eat snacks after midnight to a woman he so desired but can't have? "That, in the end, we were both blind," he choked, grabbing onto her arms. The scenario of your first crush in middle school flashed across his mind then your first boyfriend in high school now your current boyfriend with his hands around your waist. Why couldn't that be him? Your first crush. Your prom date. Your first boyfriend. And the one to be laughing with you on a hot and breezy summer evening? Can't you see him? See that he was the one all along. The one who bought you chocolates and candies when you were sad, the one who gave you his jacket and comforted you when you had your first period in school, the one who gives you piggyback ride on your way home from school, the one who would smile at you and cherish every moment of your presence even when you weren't as close anymore. Would anyone else do the things he'd do for you? would he love you like he loves you? Even after being a idol, having all the things anyone could desire, the money, the fame, the looks but you still didn't see him. You looked happier, you do. With him. "'Cause she never saw me and I never saw anyone else but her," you voice ringed inside his head, calling him, hugging him, embracing in each other's warmth. All he ever wanted. "Aigoo, Beomgyu - ah, is it (y/n)?" his mother asked, pulling him back into her embrace. And Beomgyu lets her. Burying his tears and pain on her shoulders. He knew in his heart that there is someone else who deserves you but, he was still in love with you. Still wanted to be one. Its crazy cause you were never his but how does it break him so much to know that he lost you? "Its okay, baby. Don't cry...... maybe, she wasn't the one for you," she comforted, patting his hair while the dinner was long forgotten. Thank god mothers don't find other boyfriend........ "You'll find someone better. Prettier. Someone who loves you the way you loved her. Maybe more. You know its alright. I know it hurts but its gonna be okay. She was just not the one and its not yours or her fault. So stop crying, you'll find someone new........." Would he? It has been 5 years though and he was still yearning for your touch. Hoping that maybe you'll open your eyes and see that he's been here all along. But, He guess not. Sniffing and wiping his red eyes, he asked his mother with trembling voice, " What if I did find someone knew, but still fall asleep to the thought of her?" "I'm scared..."

[kayakoto-enterprises]

Soul Touch [1/2]

Author's note: Happy House Guest Monthsary!!! My mind has been flooded with the sappiness of deep infatuation before the Horrors barge in!! I wanted to write something pre-relationship, something soft and nice and pretentiously sweet like the little town that homes them. Happy House Guest Monthsary!!

P.S. Yes Penderverse Knuckles reference. I love you She Loves You arc.

December 2nd, 1987

I might be slowly slipping out of the motivation to continue such a project. Maybe it's the weather. The temperature has been dropping each day and my body clock compels me to commit less these days. It even prevents me from committing emotionally some days. To my favorite side project or to this untitled goose chase. I could not promise myself that my props would be ready by Christmastime. I think I'll have to endure all the queries and invitations. No, no, but maybe I'll have something ready by Valentine's. But my body now is focused on getting me home and running a long bath. It might be easy to catch a fish in this weather, but God knows a body isn't as satisfying when it's colder and limper. The stream doesn't flow like a fall with most of my catches in this season. But it's the most I can do for myself today. My hands are almost frigid from the frost. I have to get back now.

Passing through the boulevard bound back to Woodbrook, a line of people formed from the sidewalk as they all appear to be hailing taxis. Most of them holding boxes and bags, carrying children, or sharing a moment with another, shopping bag between them. Then there's a person in a bright pink parka. I slowed the truck to get a better look at the familiar sight. Well wouldn't you know it, Julianne was in the city today. Her eyes were focused on how long the queue was getting. I blew the horn immediately to catch the feline's attention. Her tail jumped up from shock, and looked around before noticing my car, squinting to make out my silhouette.

"Hey Julianne!" I smiled after quickly rolling down my window. Her expression changes from confused to shocked, a weak smile curling from her lips.

"Oh my god- hi Sam!" Julianne's voice was shrill with an excitement or nervousness "Just waiting for a cab."

"I'm headed back. Want a ride?" I shut myself up realizing what I just offered. The seats back there looked clean. I cleaned my apron and goggles. Nothing here smells like blood. I return my attention to Julianne. She nods, picking up a carboard box she was trudging along. I got myself out and carried the box into the back seat. She only gets inside when I give her a nod. She sighs in relief entering the truck, enjoying the warmth yet that nervousness doesn't wash off her face. I playfully nudge her shoulder before starting the engine.

"You can relax now. I'm not your boss...Now, what do you say?"

"Thank you." Julianne says with a sincere smile. Her eyes only meet mine for a second then she looks down at her feet.

"What brings you here? I thought you said you hated the city."

Julianne leans into the door looking out into the passing world. I chuckle to myself how obvious she's being. I've seen the signs and the symptoms of people with crushes. I'd rather they not act that way towards me. It looks endearing on her though. Maybe it's a waste if I wait this project out til Spring. The trap is ready and set. She composes herself before softly replying.

"It's a free day. I just wanna...get in a crowd and disappear in a crowd. Do you know what I mean? As much as I like being..a new face in Woodbrook going back to a place like this puts me back in perspective."

Her voice dreamy with a fond cynicism. Speaking of disappearing...

"You're not worried a...bear is gonna come and get you then you do disappear, do you?" I joked.

"Hey, where are you taking me?" Julianne snapped back, her smile growing as she laughed with me. Her expression mellows down again playing with her thumbs as we drive through the winding road to home.

"Don't get so quiet now, we still have 30 minutes together."

"Well, what do you do in the city?"

"I meet with a few business associates there. They supply me the paint and other stock that sells well. There's 3 I go to. Then if I feel like it, I walk to Com-Foods' commissary to pick up some goodies before going home." I half lied.

"Com-Foods! I..I did go to the commissary today. I got...let's see..those chocolate marshmallows, ice gems, and chocolate chip cookies." She lit up. "What do you usually get?"

"Chocolate chip and butter cookies. Are you stocking up for a project..?"

She shook her head looking a little offended.

"Sure, but Christmas is almost here. Do the children go carolling around? And to serve as..quick gifts to some of the kind friends I've made so far.." The nervousness in her voice returns.

"Hopefully a lot more this year. After last year, lots of parents didn't want to take that risk right away. Only saw maybe 3 kids with their parents. Hey, you could give some to my friend's kids. I think they'll appreciate it."

She nods as she thinks of a reply. Nothing comes out. Her expression is confused trying to make up a story or a follow up but I hold her hand down.

"I was just teasing you. Do you want me to turn the heater up a bit?"

Those last 15 minutes were painfully dull. The radio could only slur out spasms of melodies as the weather got worse. Julianne filled those gaps with humming or thinking out loud. We parked behind her apartment building and walked in to everyone huddled in the common space. A few eyes followed us upstairs with suspecting glances. I settled her box down next to a shoe rack.

She whispered me thank you again before quickly running off to the kitchen. She came back a minute later holding a pair of scissors.

"Hey, don't run with that in your hand."

She ignored me scolding her to rip a line through the tape on the cardboard. She pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and wordlessly placed it in my hands. She smiled at me again.

I grinned back. I don't know how I felt at that moment but it probably was not as intense as it was for her. I came home that night spending a longer time in the water wondering what that girl was doing to me.

Click.

.

.

.

December 5th, 1987

Yes, I am well aware of the fact people have crushes on me. It's mostly innocent- but I'm usually uninterested. I don't do relationships like that until I consider it necessary. This is necessary. I can't stand being an object of pity. It isn't completely selfish either. She'll reap all the benefits of dating me in the end. I just want the attention away from my hands.

Yet if she's just a means to my end, why do I picture her smiling when open up the cookie jar? I try and redirect my mind somewhere else, and believe me, I nearly got it. I just nearly broke the jar. It is a sweet gesture though. My other suitors have done nothing other than talk. I can be bribed with a bag of Com-Foods chocolate chip though. Some people can just read me better.

My mind wanders back to the truck in those 15 minutes to the apartment building. The signals shift from Golden Apple's broadcast to the Woodbrook radio playing underground music. Julianne rambles quickly about an emerging art band that started a telephone service from their home studio. Each hour or so a new song plays through their answeing machine. One of their debut songs play between static and she softly sings to complete the puzzle. She tells me I should call it and I think of the telephone bill.

I'm transferring important numbers, dates, addresses, and sticky notes into this new journal. I can't help but preserve the last few pages though as they detail all the close encounters I've had with that cat: The day she moved into town, the first time she came into the shop, photos of the bare apartment, and information I've pulled out of her that might be important later on. Everything else is going into an open fire. Julianne begins to consume every thought  and decision I had and will have moving forward. In a desperation march to move my mind away from more petty violence or saintly canonization, it feels like I'm reaching out to take her, and flow her body down through a stream with mine. I could not figure out how to do it naturally though. I don't do well with romance. The last time I attempted it nineteen years ago blew up on my face and even up to now that relationship further rottens under the rug. Julianne is just so easy to please though. She's so young. Maybe it's her first shot at anything at all. She likes me. It's stupidly obvious.

I haven't been flattered to be liked like that in a long while.

She has this affection for almost anything she will lay her eyes on. I leave my heart blank or neutral to anything particularly sappy. Keep myself agreeable enough to be liked. It's just that excitement for everything that's slowly infecting my senses. The library has this gigantic poster with the names of stars and constellations. I find myself staring and reading it for seconds, maybe minutes more, memorizing the shapes and the titles. Imagine the look on her face when I could properly point to her where the hunter's belt is.

I'm not anchoring myself to her in any way. I promise.

387-6962.

The phone brrs for a moment until the click of a button is heard on the opposite side. A chalky sounding, music box-like melody plays gently.

Stormy pinkness

Human weakness

Fills my Johnny Cup with gloom

I smile a bit. It sounds like something she would say. The charm of such an unessential service shines like a golden ring amongst every other 800-number I've seen on TV.

Your progression

My digression

Forty days this afternoon

The things we cherish are small indeed

So much the larger the need

Stormy pinkness

Let me thanklessly free

Such is the sound of young love. It sounds like a night of slam poetry. A young man's voice on the other end thanks me for calling up their quirky service. In the stillness of the closed shop I listen on, hang up, and call again. It sounded nice. Like a tune you hear during a dance scene in a movie. Or the track you skip over in your favorite album. I don't consider looking at things I don't already like for other people. Julianne does have an interesting taste in music though. I don't mind it. At least that's another thing we can talk about next time.

Click.

.

.

.

December 7th, 1987

Who am I kidding walking straight to Julianne's apartment building first thing in the morning today? I look suspicious to a lot of the residents there. I mean, they know me. They buy from me. The landlady sends me a basket every Easter. But the mere fact I was here yesterday for one thing and then again is enough to raise a brow at my intentions. Julianne left yesterday and hasn't returned. I don't know why I felt offended, maybe even sad at the thought of her gone. I was excited to tell her I called up that phone number she rambled on about.

I wish I had her number. There would be no middle ground or lobby to pass through to get to her. I was already making a spectacle of myself coming so often to the space.

I could not focus today. I was feigning between closing early and waiting outside the apartment or just giving up and going home. I was just begging to see her at this point. A glimpse of anything at all. My eyes out the window waiting for a taxi or someone wearing pink. I must be slipping out of it again. It's starting to get desperate. It's beginning to get dark.

I've been standing at the door for almost two hours now. My eyes are wide open. The silence begins to sound like static. I wait painfully, unable to move to show my face again to that lobby. I've been hoping..and hoping..and hoping..

Someone in white passes by.

They look up the sign and at the door and she yells.

"OH MY GOD! Oh, oh it's..hi Sam." She looks at me like I've been playing dead. I push the door open finally as the cold wind welcomes me outside.

"Crap, you..I mean, you look so pale. How long have you been like that?" She laughs at the absurdity of the situation.

"I just closed the store. I didn't mean to look so frozen in thought, it's just been happening to me a lot lately."

"Sounds like a lot's on your mind. Do you wanna talk about it?"

I shake my head. I could barely get myself to focus. My eyes looks all over her form. The white dress with roses. It's a lot more formal than the spaghetti straps or frilly shirts. She looks lovelier this way. I don't know.

"Well..I'll take that as a no. Sorry. I'm just going home now."

"Do you want me to drive you back?" I urgently asked. My chest feels heavy. She purses her lips.

"Your house..I mean, the residential area is on the other end of town, you don't have to.."

"It's late, isn't it? Now get inside." My tone sounded almost like a command. Maybe I've secretly anticipated this to happen. Like a dream coming true. She comes to sit next to me again and we drive off to the red building at the edge of town.

"I..called that Dial A Song number two days ago." That sentence instantly lit her eyes up. She excitedly looks to me.

"Really? What song were they playing then?"

"I'm not sure. Stormy Pinkness. It sounded cute. Do they have other songs?"

Her hands toyed with each other with this bursting enthusiasm. She could not stop giggling all of a sudden.

"Oh I like that one..I've heard it maybe once on the phone and I do hope they put it on their new project..and..yes, they are working on a new album. But! Their debut album is still in circulation. You might find it in the kids' section though. Most of their songs have a bit of a morbid undertone that I really like."

"Okay. Did they change the song again like John promised today?"

"I haven't called. I didn't call. I met up with Marigold in Washington yesterday...it's my birthday today. We just had a catch up trip there.. Marigold is a work friend from..my old uh..office job."

I parked the truck a block away from the building to avoid being seen again.

"You should have told me earlier. Happy birthday, kitty."

"I'm 25 already. I'm not a kitty anymore." She hesitates before opening the door. She looks back and opens her mouth, mumbling out a question.

"Do you wanna.."

"Yes?"

"..Do you wanna call Dial A Song with me..right now? I-I also brought home some..sticky rice treats from my.."

And the moment after that, my body felt like it was acting out of its system. It followed her upstairs and into her room. I think I looked stupid to the women hanging around the lobby coming in with her at 9:28 pm but I just could not care less when I sat down on the floor with the receiver on my ear. I couldn't tell if that was an accordion or a trumpet. But her face is so close to mine as we shared the phone listening to it for the first time.

Hi this is John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants. You're tuning into Dial A Song, your one way ticket to Brooklyn. Call back for another song tomorrow.

"What..what's your..telephone number?"

"Oh, it's 387-6962"

"No, your telephone." My embarrassment was resurfacing "I..I don't want them to get the wrong idea being with you all the time here."

Julianne's face softened with sadness. She carefully puts the phone down.

"I..I mean we..aren't that though. Yeah..It does look weird but I don't see it as weird at all." She whispers "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"No. I'm not. I don't know though because you do seem to lean towards a certain type. Woodbrook's safe and all but maybe you don't want to be seen with me and have it be interpreted another way."

She blushes. We lay down on the floor for a while until she reaches for a pad and scribbles down something.

"Thanks though. I don't mind being seen with you. Here's my number. You can take home as much malagkit as you like."

She slides the pad between my fingers and rests her palm on my knuckles.

"I could tell you like me though. You're a bit obvious."

"What?"

I pocket the paper as I walk away. I look back to her before I close the door.

"I'll call them again tomorrow. Goodnight, Julianne."

What is that woman doing to me...

Click.

.

.

.

December 11th, 1987

The Bijou Theatre hasn't received any new blockbusters to premiere. Most of whatever is out at the moment in the cities is being reserved for Christmas week. They're bringing out their collection from earlier in the decade. Annie is playing from today until December 22nd. I've seen the movie once. I couldn't tell you anything other than it's a musical and it takes your mind off of work. I could also tell you Julianne is obsessed with the film. She has a tape of the movie displayed on her work shelf. She said it was her favorite movie during college and comforted her when she came to America. We could watch the movie on her TV set any time but I think I owe it to her as a birthday gift or a pacifier after making her feel bad nights ago. It's like the perfect excuse fell right into my lap. Right before walking to work, I called her telephone hoping she'd be awake by now. Thankfully someone picked up.

"Mmh..Julianne Lucky here, good morning."

"Hi, Julianne."

.

"Oh, ah..hiya Sam. How are you?" I could almost see her flushed face from here.

.

"Just about to go to work. I heard Bijou Theatre is gonna screen Annie tomorrow."

.

"A-Annie? The..the John Huston adaptation?"

.

"Think that's it. The little orphan poodle."

.

"Oh man, I guess I have to go then. It's been a bit rough lately, I need to watch it again." She overshares.

.

"I know. Would the lady of the house be busy tomorrow evening?"

.

"Ah..uhm..oh gosh..I don't think so. Sam, are you?"

.

"No, I can close the store early. Will you come watch it with me?"

.

"Well..if you don't mind then. Yes! Yes I will. If you aren't embarrassed to see me."

.

"I'm not, I promise I'm not. If it'd help I can pick you up at the apartment, or--"

.

"Let's just meet in front of Bijou, okay?" Her voice was breathy with excitement. "Thank you. I..I'll see you."

She hangs up the phone. The contagious feeling of young love streams from the telephone cord. I lean back on the door silently after putting the phone down. Oh. She said yes. I'm doing it. I'm running headfirst into the forest and not looking back. She said yes. The invitation alone was already so dizzying. It feels different inviting a stranger to a movie. For a moment I lost sight of why I was even persuing it in the first place. Maybe after tomorrow I'll be back to how I usually feel about big romantic gestures like these but I stood there for a moment with my forehead in my hand. Imagining. Dreaming of it.

She likes me.

And that's enough for the lamb to curiously look into the trap.

Click.

[sollattes]

mako's sticky little secret

Makoto quietly sneaked into his room. After his evening patrol as the 'friendly neighbourhood spiderman', his injuries finally catch up to him as his adrenaline slowly dissipates.

He removed his shoes first before climbing into the window to his room. Once in his room, he took off his mask, took a deep breath, and sighed.

He was removing suit when the door creaked open to reveal you, in an oversized white shirt and pyjama, messy hair and holding up a bat, your face still a bit puffy, it looked like you just woke up, Makoto noticed.

The two of you just stood there for a hot minute, trying to process on what was going on.

"I can explain," Makoto started, but he was cut off when you rushed towards him and grabbed his face, looking at how much his face was beaten up.

"You okay? Does anything other than your face hurt?" You asked him cautiously, checking his body, he hissed when you touched his rib.

"Take off your suit and just seat on the bed, I'll grab some ice and first aid kit," you left him, Makoto still quite in shock but followed your instructions.

You came into the room and found Makoto shirtless. You noticed that there was a big growing bruise on his right rib, and lots of scratches and smaller bruises were scattered on him.

"What happened?" You questioned Makoto as you started treating his injuries, cleaning them gently first with a wet towel.

"It was just a really rough night," Makoto looked down. He owed you this. You didn't care if he was Spiderman. You only cared that he was hurt, and Makoto couldn't be affected by your reaction. Sometimes, he thinks that may be it was fate that brought you, a med student, and him, Spiderman, together.

The both of you just stayed silent. After that, as you were focusing on treating his wounds, you put the ice in his bruise, Makoto hissed with the sudden effect of the ice, and you took his reaction to the ice to put the ointment gently.

Makoto could only look at you with adoration in his eyes as he couldn't find in himself the comfy silence. He watched the way your hands handled his wounds gently but securely.

"So... when were you planning to tell me?" You asked him, not making eye contact.

"I.. I don't know... I don't wanna endanger you, I don't want people targeting you all because you know me, I dont want to put you at any risk. " Makoto didn't like keeping things from you, but this was for your own safety. Makoto knew that if he ever gets you in danger, he will never be able to forgive himself.

You now looked at Makoto in the eyes. You could see the sincerity shining in his eyes. Yes, it did hurt you that Makoto didn't tell you, but at the same time you get where he was coming from, you too wouldn't have told him if you were in his place, also afraid of the dangers that might come after him, so you didn't press in the matter anymore.

"Since when was this?" You looked down once again to continue treating his wounds, maybe changing the subject could ease up the tension.

"Since 16, you remember that one time that I was absent at school because I got bit by a sipder. Well, it turns out that Spider wasn't just an ordinary spider. It was a radioactive spider that escaped from a lab and crept into my room, then bit me, and it gave me these abilities." Makoto laughed slightly. You laughed with him, recalling the memory of you non-stop pestering his parents to let you see him.

As dawn approaches both you and Makoto, just continue talking. The topic ranges from his Spiderman life to core memories that both of you shared with each other, made with each other, and this night was going to be one of those memories.

Makoto could only wish that moments like these could last, hiding in the cheap blinds of the apartment, talking the ears out each other, sharing laughter.

But Makoto knew that the city was going to need him sooner or later, and you were going to be put in danger and be taken away from Makoto since after all it was all bound to happen, it was already written in stone the moment that radioactive spider bit him.

tags : @simpforchuchu

[dreamspelunker]

A Case for Disney’s “Strange World”

No one seems to know anything about this movie. I didn’t before I saw it yesterday. I went to the movies on a whim and chose this one because the pickings were a bit slim and this one looked like the best out of the bunch.

Guys. This movie is good.

Disney has done this film real dirty by not marketing it properly. I mean, it probably won’t ever take over the world by storm like Encanto did, but it deserves better than what it’s getting. As I said on my Twitter, it is 100% a stunningly beautiful solarpunk film and everyone needs to go see it.

Here’s a brief synopsis since the trailer was garbage and no one saw it anyway:

***The Spoiler-Free Zone***

The story mostly focuses on Searcher, the son of famous explorer Jaeger Clade whose mission in life is to find a passage over the impassable mountains that surrounds their community of Avalonia. While on an expedition to try and scale the peaks, Searcher finds Pando, a mysterious plant that generates a renewable source of electricity. Searcher, tired of exploring and wanting to quit the life, takes the Pando back to Avalonia. Jaeger, still determined to find a way through the mountains, keeps going alone, never to return.

25 years later, Pando has transformed Avalonia into a bustling sci-fi uptopia. Searcher is renowned for having discovered Pando, and now lives a quiet life growing Pando crops with his wife and teenage son. One day, however, the Pando starts dying. In search of a cure, one of Jaeger’s former crew comes to Searcher asking for his help to lead an expedition down underground to figure out what’s killing it and save the society they’ve built with it.

If that sounds like a movie you’d like to see, stop reading now and go see it. Because from here, I’ll be busting out spoilers to talk about themes and why this movie is solarpunk. So I’ll be writing as if you, dear reader, have seen the film.

***The Spoiler Zone***

First of all, this movie is goddamn gorgeous. I really liked the opening comic-panel sequence and all, but I fell in love with the visuals once the story opened up and began showing us Searcher’s farm and Avalonia. Aesthetically, this is about as solarpunk as you can get. Art nouveau-inspired stained glass windows, visible mending on clothes, and really cool-looking tech that’s not at all in conflict with its environment.

That’s not even touching on the world inside Avalonia. I loved the shades of pinks and purples. And the creature design! Absolute chef’s kiss. That whole part of the movie reminded me of this one book I’ve read called ‘Expedition’ by Wayne Douglas Barlowe, which is just about exploring the ecosystem of alien life-forms on a planet called Darwin IV. It’s mostly a collection of really detailed sci-fi paintings of alien creatures. Fantastic stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if someone at the Disney studio had a copy and passed it around for inspiration during production.

In terms of the characters, i thought everyone was engaging and all the voice actors gave really good performances. I really liked Jaeger in particular (yes, he comes back, of course), but all three of the main characters were really well developed.

But, of course, there is The Gay Character. We all know about HIM.

I kid, I kid, I capitalize with irony. They did a good job with him, actually.

I’ve seen a lot of people on Twitter respond to the idea of Ethan Clade with a very cynical shrug without having seen the movie. I have to say, I think people would be genuinely pleased with his portrayal if they gave the movie a chance. There’s no goofy wink-wink LeFou-ing about here. He’s a main character throughout the movie, his love interest is presented upfront with sincerity, and everyone within the world accepts it as normal. He’s not fighting anyone to be gay or trying to hide it, nor is it his one defining trait. He just has a crush on a dude and his dad embarrasses him a bit in front of him. Normal teenage stuff. His character arc is about sorting out his identify in relation to his family, especially his dad. Being gay literally has nothing to do with his character any more than his mom and dad being straight. Which is how it should be.

The story is a fun ride. It’s really well-paced. I was never bored, personally. There are some really great action scenes, some cute comedy with a three-legged dog and a goo creature called Splat, and the emotional beats all made sense with the characters and moved the story forward. It has a lot of qualities that reminded me of Up! and some parts of The Incredibles without directly being a rip-off of either of those. It’s its own thing, and I look forward to being able to watch it again on DVD/streaming.

***I know some of you kept reading anyway so for real, this is where I’m about to get into True Spoilers so save yourselves now y’allllllll***

Ultimately, this is a movie about legacy. Specifically, the legacy we want to leave our children (i.e. those who will come after us). I love the way this movie manages to take the existential crisis we face now in our blessed, beautiful world and condense it into a story where that issue of legacy, of our priorities, and of who we want to be is made clear.

Jaeger Clade is the society that brought us to where we are now. He’s a loud, brash, bush-whacking old man who’s driven to overcome obstacles. Searcher Clade is us now. Not looking to conquer for conquering’s sake, but complacent and only interested in continuing the status quo. He’s proud of what he’s made and sees no reason to change. Ethan Clade is who we should want to be. Someone looking for a third option, who wants to co-exist with the world around them, and be curious without being destructive.

These three outlooks correlate directly to the reveal that Avalonia is actually a living creature, and Pando is a disease that is literally wrapped around the living, beating heart of their world and slowly killing it. It was Jaeger’s drive to explore that led to the discovery of Pando. Searcher was unintentionally making the problem worse by growing more and more Pando to fuel their society. And throughout the movie, everyone is working together to save Pando, and it’s Ethan alone who tries to get them to stop and think more about what they’re looking at, and that things might not be as simple and straight-forward as they appear.

And this is why I think this movie is solarpunk, and not just aesthetically. Obviously, there are direct parallels to our use of fossil fuels, but I think it’s important that in the universe of Strange World, Pando is not an obvious poison or something they have to destructively mine to get. It’s a plant. Something that appears so innocuous at first, but under the surface, grows into a huge, overwhelming problem. No one is an evil bad guy looking to make profit off Pando or keep on destroying the world because it makes them money to do so. Everyone in the movie does what they do because they think they’re doing the right thing. What is the right and wrong answer isn’t always clear, and rather than being a result of them being outright evil, it’s just because they don’t fully understand the consequences.

While I was in the theater watching this, I thought about the Himalayan blackberries that have taken over the Pacific Northwest. It was introduced in the late 1800s by a botanist named Luther Burbank. He prized it for how much produce one blackberry bush could make in a single season, as opposed to the native blackberries that made smaller berries in smaller quantities. His intent was genuinely for the good. He wanted to propagate a crop that could accessibly feed the growing urban areas of the PNW. Create a food forest, in a sense. He sold the seeds because it was easy to grow and would feed people.

Obviously, it’s not bad to want to feed people. But now the damn plant has invested everything, and while the berries are still very much edible (and people do still eat them), it’s also created impenetrable thickets that kill everything around them and interfere with the ability of wildlife to get around. It got out of control. Even though the intent was meant well, the outcome created a problem that is now essentially impossible to overcome. People try anyway, because we have to, but the odds are not in our favor.

Solarpunk isn’t about growing more plants or having more trees in our cities or building solar panels and wind farms everywhere. Well, it’s not JUST that. Of course those things are good things, but every solution offered needs the proper context to work. And that’s the real nature of the movement, right? It’s finding solutions that lead to the best outcomes for everyone. Being invested in our world, learning about it, falling in love with it, discovering the intricacies of how everything is interconnected and how we fit into that. Everything we do will have inevitable impacts on everything around us, but what those impacts are can change radically depending on how carefully we consider our actions. We know we have to change. The question is, how do we change? How do we change for everyone?

And that is the ending message of the film. The heroes choose to save Avalonia. They destroy the Pando, knowing that it means they can’t have their society the way it was anymore. They choose that, because it is right to do. And the movie ends with the resilience of humanity as they come together and try to find a different solution to build their society on, the third solution of people like Ethan Clade who bring together the bravery and curiosity of Jaeger with the steadfastness and dedication of Searcher, and create a world that’s built on understanding and co-existence. In a world that constantly feels like it could teeter over at any minute, that’s a beautiful message to see in a goddamn Disney film.

P.S. I just want to say before I go that I really really really want Ethan’s boyfriend’s sweater. When you see it, you’ll understand, but I NEED the sweater in my life more than air.