#anyway this was exhausting i hate working with dark scenes ;-;

[ohshinytrinketsmine]

"If you can satisfy me, you can pick any car you want.But there is a price to pay."

Pit Babe the Series, Ep 1

[randomdragonfires]

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did - The Other Woman [SNEAK PEEK]

Oh, and there was a woman.

WORD COUNT | 3.5k (and it's only a sneak peek ffs)

Author's Note | Hello everyone! So I am working on a relatively short 10k word chapter that is centred around Alys and Aemond from this story. How they came to be, what it is that they talk about... just the general progression of their relationship.

What follows is the first scene of that interlude chapter. The full thing should be up soon, following which I'll begin the final chapter. You'll see mentions, the ghost of Wylde - but for obvious reasons, Alysmond is the star of the next update.

Be warned. I see that many don't take well to the Alys and Aemond pairing - I will not appreciate any hate being thrown towards me or the story. There's always a civil way to say things. The strong reactions to their pairing is what kept me away from continuing it immediately in the first place, but mama didn't raise a quitter so here we are lmao

MORE THAN A YEAR AGO - AEMOND POV

"Of course I'm here. It’s summer vacation, and it’s only one of the biggest art gallery openings in the country," Wylde said with a grin. He was still new to Oldtown, while she was heading into her final year of school at King’s Landing—but they both knew where they belonged in the world. He would eventually take his place at the top, running one of the oldest commercial institutions in the realm. She would become a prominent socialite, wielding her family’s art connections with pride and skill, possibly on the arm of one of the men in this room.

For a fleeting moment back home, he had wished that man would be him. But that had passed—or so he liked to believe.

"Hm."

"Anyway, I have to make my rounds, shake hands," she sighed, as if already exhausted by the thought. "Most of them will try to get to my father through me, hoping for a chance at our family’s paintings for their displays." She paused, her expression softening. "My plane to King’s Landing leaves soon after, so I might not catch you to say goodbye, okay?"

She leaned in on the tips of her toes, instinctively brushing her lips against his cheek, a gesture so familiar it felt natural. His skin warmed under her touch as he held onto her for a moment, before letting her go and watching her slip into the crowd.

"It was nice to see you, Aemond," she said, giving him one last smile before she disappeared among the other guests.

He watched as the crowd welcomed her with open arms. And why wouldn’t they?

Aemond stood quietly near the back of the gallery, his head turned as he swirled his wine and pretended to be interested in the pieces around him. But his focus had already drifted.

From across the room, she had become the only thing he could think about.

She was magnetic in a way that defied simple description. It wasn���t just her beauty, though he could hardly deny that. There was something in the way she moved - fluid, deliberate, as if every gesture, every glance, was part of a conversation only she knew how to conduct. Aemond watched as she floated through the crowd with an easy grace, her black dress brushing the tops of her heels - not revealing, but just enough. 

But it wasn’t her appearance that intrigued him the most. It was her detachment. The way she seemed to occupy the room and yet remain entirely separate from it. Like she knew she was better than the herd. How can she possibly not? He knew it, and he’d barely seen her for ten minutes.

He studied her carefully, trying to decode the way she interacted with her surroundings. The other guests barely held her interest, even her husband - Brynden Rivers, the artist on feature - who was basking in the attention of his admirers, seemed peripheral to her thoughts. She would smile and nod at the right moments, offering polite responses when addressed, but her eyes - sharp, dark, endlessly curious - always strayed back to the art. It was as though she were in search of something she hadn’t quite found, or perhaps she was testing the art itself, waiting to see if it would reveal anything worth caring about.

He found himself wondering what she saw. What was it that drew her attention so intensely? Was she, like him, disillusioned by the pageantry of it all? Or was she simply beyond it, a part of a world he hadn’t yet glimpsed?

Aemond’s eyes lingered on her, captivated by her subtle confidence. He could tell she knew he was watching - how could she not? And yet, she gave no indication that she minded. Instead, there was a knowingness in her movements, a quiet acknowledgment of his gaze that sent a strange thrill through him.

Almost as if she moved just for him.

As she turned from the group around her to admire one of the larger paintings, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his. It was fleeting, just a flicker of recognition, but the brief moment stretched out in Aemond’s mind. She didn’t look away immediately, nor did she smile - there was something almost challenging in her gaze, as though she were testing him, daring him to keep watching.

And he did.

Their eyes met again several times as the night wore on, each moment charged with tension that had heat penetrating him through his black turtleneck. He couldn’t place it - this feeling that they were circling each other from opposite ends of the room. They had not spoken a word, yet it felt as though they were in conversation, their glances exchanging ideas, questions, provocations. What was she thinking? Did she feel this pull too, or was she simply toying with him, amused by the attention of a younger man?

She leaned in to whisper something to her husband, her lips barely moving, and Aemond felt an unexpected surge of jealousy - irrational, yes, but undeniable. She was so at ease, so unattainable, yet there was something in the way she kept looking at him, as if she wanted him to see her just as much as he wanted to understand her.

He’d never, in his entire life, felt like this before.

Their eyes locked again, and this time her lips curved into the faintest smile, not of politeness or pretense, but of acknowledgment. She knew exactly what she was doing, and Aemond, for all his careful control, felt the thrill of the chase. It wasn’t just desire - though there was plenty of that - it was the curiosity that gripped him. Who was she? What did she want from this night, from this life? And why did it feel like, in this crowded room, they were the only two people who mattered?

There was a moment when their gaze lingered just a little longer than before, the silence between them almost deafening, despite the buzz of conversation around them. Aemond felt something stir deep within him, a strange excitement, as though this unspoken challenge had a life of its own. What was he to her? Just another man in the gallery, or had she singled him out the way he had her?

It wasn’t until she broke the connection - turning back to the painting in front of her - that he realized he had been holding his breath.

Aemond had been standing in the corner of the gallery, nursing a drink that had long gone flat. His eyes drifted back to her, stealing glances, trying to untangle the mystery she presented without making it too obvious. He couldn't quite understand why she fascinated him so much, but her presence demanded his attention.

Then, it happened.

She moved.

At first, he thought she was simply changing her position to get a better view of a painting, but when their eyes met across the room for the third time that evening, something shifted. She wasn't just glancing anymore - she was walking toward him.

Aemond’s heart rate spiked. He forced himself to remain calm, to not show his surprise, but he could hardly believe she was coming up to him. The crowd of art enthusiasts seemed to blur, and the distant hum of voices faded into nothingness as she neared. He couldn't help but track every step she took, as though each one was part of a dance he hadn’t learned yet.

And then she was there, standing in front of him. Up close, she was even more striking than he had imagined - her features sharp and graceful, with an aura of confidence that was almost magnetic. She had an air of quiet authority, but not in the way the old-money elite around them carried themselves. Hers was different, more subtle, more powerful.

“Aemond Targaryen,” she said, her voice smooth and knowing, as though they were already well acquainted.

He blinked, still processing the fact that she was speaking to him at all. “You know me,” he said, though it wasn’t exactly a question. It made sense - he was a Targaryen after all, but still, something about her saying his name with such ease unnerved him.

“To no one's surprise, yes.” She smiled, the corners of her lips curling up in a way that was almost teasing. “You didn’t think I’d notice the only one in this room who's barely looked at the art?”

The comment threw him for a moment, but then, intrigued, he leaned in slightly. “A room full of some of the finest art, and yet you’ve been watching me,” he pointed out. 

Did she notice him before, the same way he’s noticed her?

For a moment, her dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Alys Rivers,” she began, letting the name roll off her tongue slowly, as if inviting him to puzzle it out.

Aemond’s brow furrowed. "Rivers..." he muttered, almost to himself, trying to jog his memory. The name wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but he couldn’t quite place it. And then it came to him - he hadn’t heard that surname in relation to anyone important in his world. 

“Strong,” she corrected softly, the name falling like a small bomb between them. “My maiden name is Strong.”

Aemond’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. Strong. Of course. Lionel Strong, the headmaster of the school he attended for years. Harwin Strong, whose presence in Rhaenyra’s life had always been whispered about, and whose children were a constant point of rumor and speculation.

She is a sister to them both. How had he not known of her all this time?

His gaze snapped back to her face, searching for any sign that might have connected her to that family before, but there was nothing immediately obvious. “Lionel Strong...” he said aloud, piecing it together, more for himself than for her benefit.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Lionel is my half-brother. Harwin, too.”

He exhaled slowly, letting the weight of it sink in. It was like a secret door had been unlocked, revealing more about her than he ever could’ve guessed. She had roots in his world, in his life, that had been there all along, just hidden beneath the surface.

Alys smirked, clearly enjoying the way his mind raced to catch up. "Surprised?"

“More than I’d like to admit,” he replied, a slow smile pulling at his lips as he found himself even more intrigued than before.

Aemond leaned back slightly, still processing everything. His mind, usually so sharp and analytical, felt slower than usual in the presence of Alys Rivers - or Strong, as she had just revealed. But as much as her family ties surprised him, it didn’t change the allure she carried. She was still an enigma, now with even more layers to uncover.

Alys shifted her gaze to the painting nearest them - a sprawling canvas of abstract forms, colors bleeding into one another in what he deduces as an intentional mess. “So, what do you think of the work?” she asked casually, her eyes tracing the chaotic lines as if she already knew exactly what he was going to say.

He tilted his head, not willing to offer anything up too quickly. “It’s… bold.”

“Bold,” she repeated, her lips quivering. “That’s a safe assessment.”

“I suppose it is,” he conceded, allowing himself a small smile. “But it’s honest. What about you? You seem like someone with stronger opinions on art.”

“I do,” she admitted, folding her arms across her chest as she took in the piece again. “This one... it’s my husband’s.”

Her words hung in the air, and Aemond couldn’t stop the faint sting of jealousy that crept into his chest at the way she said ‘husband’ - with a sense of familiarity that only came from many years of being tied together. He glanced back at the painting, trying to find some reflection of the man behind it.

“Your husband’s quite the artist,” he said, keeping his tone even, but his interest was undeniable.

Alys nodded, her gaze still on the painting. “Yes, he is. Brynden is one of the best, I suppose, but you don’t need me to tell you that. Everyone else here already has.” There was something dismissive in her voice, a casual indifference that caught Aemond off guard.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “And what do you think of his work?”

Alys tilted her head and gave a half-smile, as though considering the question for the first time. “It’s... fine. I appreciate what he’s trying to say, but it doesn’t speak to me in the way art should.” She paused, then turned to him, her dark eyes finding him with a sharpness that left him momentarily breathless. “But you already guessed that, didn’t you?”

Aemond smirked, amused by how easily she read him. “It’s a little obvious. The way you talk about him, about his work… It’s almost as if you’re disconnected from it.”

She met his gaze, unflinching, her smile growing. “You’re observant, aren’t you? That must be exhausting.”

He chuckled softly, unable to help himself. “I’ve been told as much.” There was something thrilling about it - this mutual understanding, this wordless challenge.

“So,” he said, redirecting the conversation with purpose, “if your husband’s work doesn’t speak to you, what does? What kind of art do you appreciate?”

Alys turned away from the painting, her attention fully on him now. “The kind that demands something of me. Something that won’t let me look away. I want to be moved, even unsettled. The kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered, intrigued. “You mean the kind that unsettles you in the same way a person can?”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Exactly. Sometimes, the most impactful art is the kind that forces you to confront things you’ve been avoiding. It’s messy, uncomfortable, but unforgettable.”

He found himself nodding in agreement, feeling the conversation dip. “I suppose that’s why art and history are so closely linked. Both make you confront uncomfortable truths. The more you understand the world, the more you realize how fragile everything is.”

She sighed softly, as though she’d found someone who shared her exact thoughts. “Yes, and that fragility - that’s where the beauty lies. When you can’t control it. And when it’s gone, you’re left wondering why you didn’t appreciate it enough.”

They weren’t just talking about art anymore, and both of them knew it.

“And history,” she continued, her voice softer now, “is like the ultimate piece of art, isn’t it? Layered and complex, full of contradictions. No matter how much you study it, there’s always something more to uncover.”

Aemond nodded, his gaze intense. “It’s a reminder that nothing is permanent. Not power, not legacy, not even love.”

The way he said it, the quiet certainty in his voice, made Alys pause. She studied him for a long moment, as if searching for something behind his words. “You’re quite young. Do you really believe that?” she asked, her tone challenging, though her smile remained.

“Of course,” he replied easily. “Everything has its limits.”

As their conversation deepened, they moved through the gallery, eventually stopping in front of a painting that caught Alys’s attention. The piece was striking - two figures, intertwined in an abstract embrace, their forms blurring at the edges, as if they were dissolving into one another. The colors were bold, almost chaotic, bleeding into one another in a way that suggested both unity and dissolution.

Alys tilted her head, her lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “What do you make of this one?”

Aemond studied the painting, the mingling figures, the way their outlines seemed to waver as if they could hardly contain themselves within the frame. It was both intimate and unsettling, a reflection of connection and the inevitable loss that comes with it.

“It’s fascinating,” he said, voice measured. “There’s something about the way they’re almost… becoming each other. But it’s not peaceful, is it? It’s like they’re losing themselves in the process.”

She nodded, eyes still fixed on the canvas. “It’s about boundaries, I think. How much of yourself are you willing to give before you start losing pieces of who you are?”

Aemond glanced at her, sensing the weight behind her words. “Isn’t that what love does, in a way? It strips you down, forces you to let go of your boundaries until you’re not sure where you end and the other person begins.”

Alys met his gaze, her eyes sharp, thoughtful. “But that’s dangerous, isn’t it? Giving up so much of yourself. Maybe that’s why so many people cling to the idea of monogamy - one person, one connection, to keep things simple. Less risk.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Do you think monogamy keeps things simple?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not at all. Monogamy is just another way of complicating things, if you ask me. The idea that one person can meet all your needs… it feels like an illusion.”

He considered her words, watching her closely as she turned back to the painting. “You don't have much of an opinion for loyalty in your connections?”

Alys shrugged, her smile a little mischievous. “I believe in connection. But I also believe in freedom. Sometimes, those things don’t go hand in hand.”

Aemond’s gaze lingered on her, his mind swirling with the implications of her words. “Is that why you don’t believe in monogamy?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead turning to look at him with that same sly, knowing smile. “I didn’t say that - I can’t, given that I am married. But I don’t think it’s the only way to live.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I think monogamy works for some people. But for others... perhaps it’s just another form of control.”

“And what about you?” she asked, her gaze locking with his, challenging him again. “Do you crave control, Aemond?”

He didn’t answer right away, but the intensity of her gaze made his heart race. “I think we all do, in some way. It’s human nature.”

Alys took a step closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “But sometimes, the most exhilarating moments come when you let go of control. When you surrender to something - or someone - you can’t predict.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and for a brief moment, he felt the air between them grow charged. The flirtation between them had evolved into something far more potent, far more dangerous.

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked, his voice lower now, the distance between them shrinking.

She didn’t break eye contact, her lips curving slightly. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Aemond glanced around the bustling gallery, the laughter and chatter of art enthusiasts fading into a background hum as his focus narrowed back to Alys. The way her eyes sparkled, the slight tilt of her head, and the intoxicating warmth of her presence drew him in like a moth to flame.

In a bold, instinctive move, he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The contact sent a jolt through him, a mix of excitement and nervous energy. Her skin felt warm against his, soft yet somehow grounding, and he marveled at how effortlessly their hands fit together.

Without a word, he began to lead her away from the crowd. They slipped through a doorway and into an empty stairwell. As they stepped into the dim light, Aemond turned to face her fully, their hands still clasped. He felt a rush of exhilaration, the act of holding her hand feeling significant, almost intimate. 

“What now?” she asked, her voice low and playful, her gaze unwavering.

He hesitated, caught in the intensity of the moment, the gravity of her presence. He reached into his trouser pockets for a cigarette and lighter, and soon there was the ashy smell of smoke around them. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to find out.”

The smoke from Aemond’s cigarette curling lazily into the quiet space. He took a drag, exhaling slowly as his mind raced, the sharp taste of nicotine mingling with the tension. He kept his gaze on the blank space ahead, the smoke filling the air around them. She, however, hadn’t taken her eyes off him. He could feel it—the way she watched him, measured him, waiting to see what he would do next. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt charged.

He took one last drag before carelessly flicking the cigarette to the floor, grinding it under his boot without a second thought. The small, defiant gesture felt freeing, as though he was stamping out a part of himself—his restraint, his hesitation. He turned to face her again, her gaze steady, her lips slightly parted as if she was waiting for something.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the stairwell ceased to exist. Then, with a low exhale, he stepped closer, his eyes locking with hers. It was a split second of tension before he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was slow at first, exploratory, testing the boundaries between them. But the moment her lips parted, the intensity between them flared to life.

Aemond pressed her back against the cold, hard wall, the warmth of her body against his heightening his awareness of every touch, every breath. His hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to cup her face, the other finding her waist, pulling her closer. As the kiss deepened, his fingers traced the line of her neck, her collarbone, before they slipped lower, teasing the hem of her dress.

She let out a soft gasp as his fingers found their way between her thighs, and he swallowed the sound with his mouth. There was no hesitation, no awkward fumbling—only the smooth, practiced confidence.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as he continued, the rhythm of his fingers drawing soft moans from her lips. He could feel her tightening, her body trembling as she reached the edge. His thumb brushed over her in just the right way, and that was all it took. Alys stifled a cry as she came, her body arching against the wall, and Aemond kissed her again, this time slower, more tender, as if savoring the moment. Her breathing slowly evened out, and Aemond felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. Neither of them spoke. There was no need for words. 

They simply stood there, foreheads pressed together, sharing the stillness as the world outside continued to move without them.

Look forward to your thoughts! (No seriously, say something. I really need to be motivated and that usually happens through fic related discourse haha)

[kiiwiigii]

The Red-Eyed Boy pt. iii

Pt. One | Two | Outtake

Alec x Swan!Fem!Reader

Summary: Alec returns and shows you how sorry he is. *wink, wink*

Warnings:

Smidge of angst

Smidge of bondage

Straight up smut

Word Count: 3,130

A/N: Today I learned that suck at writing smut, but please enjoy anyways. As with all my Alec fics, he is aged up. Also, I am fucking obsessed with this gif.

Tags: @rosedpetal, @lack-lust-3r, @badass-daisy-22

Alice and Bella eyed me warily from their spot on the kitchen table as I padded around the kitchen. It was my turn for dinner tonight and I was working on a new recipe.  

"Please stop looking at me like that. I'm not about to keel over dead and I'm definitely not about to poison Bella right before she gets married." 

I grinned when Bella scrunched up her nose in annoyance. 

"You're not gonna die because you're tied to Edward through a piece of paper, Bells." 

"Says you." She grumbled. 

"Have you heard from him?" Alice asked softly. 

"No." I pursed my lips. 

It had been nearly two weeks, and I hadn't heard a damn thing from Alec. I had called and texted only to be ignored and left on read. I knew he'd be mad, but for the love of God, he was taking this too far. I just wanted to strangle him. I had spent the first week moping before trying to shake myself out of it. I refused to let myself fall into the state that Bella had after Edward left. 

Although it was really hard not to. I still had my moments, usually in the evenings when I was alone. 

I paused in the middle of chopping an onion, looking over my shoulder at Alice. Her visions were the only thing I could really count on right now, unless I had a vision of my own. Unfortunately, sleep had been avoiding me, and when I did sleep nothing came to me. 

She shook her head sadly, indicating that she hadn't seen anything. Yet. However, she also hadn't seen anything different from her previous visions, so nothing had really changed, and that gave me hope. 

"So, Y/N, we have your first dress fitting tomorrow." Alice, thankfully, changed the subject.  

"Ooh yay! Do I get to see Bella's dress?" 

Bella groaned before plonking her head onto the table. She was so easy to tease. 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't want to marry me." Edward entered the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket. 

I smiled watching them all together, happy to watch the little scene from afar. Eventually I had to turn back around, doing my best to hum a tune in my head, both to distract myself from the situation with Alec and so Edward wouldn't pick up on my depressing thoughts. This should be a happy time. 

Somehow, I don't think I was fooling anyone. 

It was official. I hated weddings and anything to do with them. I was almost positive that had I not been in a house full of vampires, Rosalie would have stuck a few pins in me on purpose.  

It was dark by the time I finally arrived home, and all I really wanted to do was shower and pass out on my bed. Keeping up a relatively happy façade almost 24/7 was exhausting. 

The house was dark, and I suddenly remembered that dad was out on one of his camping trips with a friend. Well, at least I would have the house to myself, and I could be as depressed as I wanted. 

I went straight to my room to gather some pajamas and a towel. I almost felt too tired to even shower, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to make sure I do some basic self-care. Throwing my bag onto the bed, I began to strip. 

"You should keep your window locked." 

I jumped and let out a scream, quickly covering myself, dress already hanging half off. 

It was Alec, propped up on my bed, another book in hand. How had I not seen him?? I even threw my bag in his direction. 

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I wheezed at him, trying my best to get my racing heart back under control. 

"Not particularly." His eyes roamed over me, from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my neck, where my pomegranate seed necklace hung. And then the dangling straps of my dress. "You look beautiful, tesoro." 

I blinked rapidly, trying my best to figure out what the hell was happening. I hadn't heard from Alec in nearly a month and here he was, just sitting here. In my room. On my bed. As if nothing had ever happened.  

"Where have you been? Why have you been ignoring me?"  

He simply eyed me before closing the book with a thump.  

"I was extremely… angry. There was a while where I did not really have control of myself. I even scared Jane." He admitted. "I didn't want to take it out on you. Or for you to see that side of me." 

I glared at him. 

"So, you just disappear without a word? Didn't bother telling me that you were okay and that you just needed space? You're aware that I've had visions of you since I was like, six years old, right? I've seen you angry." 

"Not like this, you haven't." He said quietly. 

"Do you know what I thought? I thought you had left me. Despite whatever Alice's visions tell her, I know that they can change at the drop of a hat. I was just sitting here waiting, praying that you wouldn't change your mind." 

Fuck, here come the tears. 

He was next to me in a heartbeat, hands cupping my face. I tried to back away, but he kept his grip firm. 

"I would never leave you, Y/N." He said softly, wiping the tears away. "Ever. I have never been good at relationships. I have always kept myself at arm's length, but you, you are different. And when I saw you on that field, after the battle, I had never been so scared and angry in my life." 

He paused for a minute, searching. "Had I lost you, I would have burned the world down." 

My breath hitched in surprise, and I could feel my heart skip a beat. He kissed me then, and I allowed it, wrapping my arms around his neck as he reached for my waist. His kiss was soft and controlled, while mine was bordering on desperation. 

"Don't you ever do that to me again." He whispered against my lips, a warning. 

Why did that turn me on and piss me off at the same time? 

"I'm sorry, what was that? Because it sure didn't sound like an apology, Alec." 

He pulled me flush against him, nipping at my collarbone in reproach. I hissed in pain, but he quickly soothed it over with his tongue. 

"Then let me show you how sorry I am." He whispered. 

He pulled me in for a heated kiss and I couldn't help but gasp. Alec took the opportunity to dip his tongue into my mouth again, and the moan that worked its way up my throat had him growling possessively. 

I could already feel my nipples tightening and the wet heat between my legs. 

I grabbed him by the collar to pull him closer. He gladly obliged and before long, he had me pressed into the bed, right underneath him, his lips giving slow languid kisses anywhere he could reach. 

"Alec." My voice was caught in my throat. 

Goddammit. He hadn't even gotten me out of my clothes before he had me begging. Hell, he had barely even touched me.  

And I was supposed to be mad at him, dammit! 

He paused, lips at the swell of my breast. Finally, he lifted himself up so he could look me in the eye, searching my face. 

"Do you trust me?" 

I nodded my head furiously. 

"I need to hear you say it, Y/N." 

"I trust you." 

I was practically panting. 

Alec produced a long strip of gauzy fabric and slowly tied my hands together, gauging my reaction, before putting them above my head. 

"Did you come prepared with that?" I gaped at him. 

"No. I took it from your bag." He smirked. 

My bag? Since when did he have the time to go through my bag? I looked at my tied wrists again, trying to wrack my brain as to why I had a long ass strip of- 

'Oh my god.' 

It was the sash to my bridesmaid's dress. I know I hadn't put it in there. The last time I had seen it- Alice. She fucking knew. She had to. She had a vision and didn't even tell me. Granted, if this was a part of her vision, I would be highly embarrassed to hear her explain exactly what she saw. 

"Now." Alec put my hands above my head again, and then trailed his own hands down my arms to my collarbone, thumbing over the mark he had placed on it earlier. "Your hands stay put above your head until I say otherwise. If they do not, I stop. No matter what I am in the middle of." He warned, pausing to make sure that I understood. "Are you okay with this? If not, we can stop." 

I shook my head back and forth frantically. 

"Y/N, I need you need to say it out loud." 

"Yes." I breathed. 

"Good. If you become uncomfortable at any point you are to tell me." 

"Yes sir." It was out of my mouth before I even realized it and I blushed furiously. 

"Are you sure you're a virgin?" He teased. 

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" I teased back, a little breathless. 

Alec's brows raised before he smirked, leaning in closer, mouth right next to my cheek. 

"I think I am going to enjoy this very much." His hands began to make their way past my collar bone to cup my breasts through the fabric of my dress, his thumbs flicking slowly back and forth over my nipples.  

My back arched in a gasp, and he let out a hum, pleased with my reaction. Soon I felt more and more skin being exposed to the cool night air, his cold lips and tongue following right behind it, licking and nipping his way until, aside from my bra, I was fully exposed from the waist up. I blushed as he sat back, admiring the view. 

"You are truly beautiful, mio cara." He breathed.  

His cold hands caressed every inch of exposed skin, purposely avoiding the spots that I wanted him to touch the most. I pouted up at him and he swiped a thumb across my lip. 

"I must admit Y/N, I like seeing you like this. And I think you like it too." 

Slowly, I gave his thumb a long lick before sucking it into mouth. His eyes darkened even further, and I could practically feel the rumble of possessiveness in his chest. 

"Careful, amore." His voice was now husky and strained. 

I released his thumb, edging my teeth along the sides and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were supposed to be apologizing." 

His eyes were now pitch black. 

"I think you forget who's in control here." 

I let out a squeak as he moved aside and ripped my dress the rest of the way down, leaving me in just my bra and panties. He settled himself between my legs, to nip and kiss his way along the inside of my thighs. 

I sucked in a sharp breath when he placed a kiss right over my covered mound, and then nuzzled into it. My hands jerked and he looked up at me, remaining still. 

"Hands, amore." He chided. 

I immediately put them back in place, wriggling my hips in anticipation. Finally, he slid my panties down, revealing my inner most self, glistening and wet just for him. 

"Perfect." 

It was the only thing I heard before his mouth was on me and my back arched off the bed yet again.  

Keeping perfect eye contact with me, he gave me long slow licks, delving into me with his tongue. And then he found my clit. I couldn't help it, I cried out, my hands immediately coming down to lace themselves through his hair. 

This wasn't an apology; this was fucking torture.  

He paused with a growl. 

"Hands, amore." 

"But- but-" 

He lifted himself up slightly, a warning look in his dark eyes. "Hands." 

"Alec." I whined, wriggling my hips again and trying push him back down. "Please." 

"You know the rules, principessa." 

"Did you just call me princess?" 

He just smirked. "You're learning. Now, hands. If I have to tell you again, I will tie you to the bed." 

'You just may have to do that.' I thought. 

He watched me for a moment more before slowly lowering himself back down, wrapping his arms around my thighs to keep my hips level. He began his slow assault on me yet again and I did my absolute best to keep my arms above my head. It was working so far... barely. 

Before long I could feel a warm heat beginning to build low in my stomach.  

"Oh god, please don't stop." I chanted. "Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." 

I wasn't entirely sure what was happening, all I knew what that it felt good, and he absolutely had to keep going. Otherwise, I was sure I was going to die right then and there. 

And then the bastard stopped. 

"Alec." I let out a low whine. 

He crawled back up to me, placing a kiss on my lips and I groaned at the taste of my arousal on him.  

"No cumming just yet, amore." He swept his tongue along my lips. "The only cumming you will be doing is on my cock." 

I almost choked. "Have- have you always been this dirty?" 

"You have no idea." He bit my earlobe and I squirmed at his words. “And this is only just the beginning.” 

"Well, it looks like won't be doing much of anything, since you're still dressed." 

"That can easily be remedied." 

My eyes widened as he slipped off his shirt. I had always known he was muscular but there was a big difference between feeling it and seeing it. Next came his pants and underwear, and I’m pretty sure my brain stopped working. 

How was that going to fit?? 

"Like what you see?” 

I simply nodded my head, my mind still trying to process the situation I was in... and the fact that his cock was rather... large. 

He leaned over and began untying my hands. I raised a brow at him. 

"I want you clinging to me when you cum." 

Oh fuck. 

My hands immediately went to explore his naked chest when he caught my hand and kissed my fingertips. 

"Are you still okay?"  

"Alec, I swear to God if you don't fuck me-" 

He cut me off, crushing his lips to mine and I suddenly felt him nudging at my entrance. He sat back briefly, rubbing himself in my juices, preparing. 

"Eyes on me, amore." 

I swiftly looked back up at him. I don't think I could have taken my eyes off him in that moment. 

Finally, finally, I felt him enter me ever so slowly. I let out a hiss of pain, my hands clutching desperately at the sheets, and he stopped, letting me adjust for a minute, all the while never breaking eye contact. This, this was something else. I had never felt so full.  

"Fuck, you're tight." 

I let out a whimper. 

"It's okay, mio cara." He kissed away the tears from my face, I hadn't even realized that I was crying. "I'm going to move now." 

And boy did he move. It took a few thrusts before the pain subsided and then I felt as if I was flying. He kept his thrusts steady and deep, his hands roaming my sides before cupping my breasts and placing gently kisses along the edges. And then proceeded to close his mouth on one of my nipples through the lace.  

"Alec." 

He didn't reply, deciding to suck harder and scrape against the sensitive buds with his teeth instead. If he kept this up, I wasn't going to last long, and I think he knew it. He sat up again, but this time he angled my hips up and I was suddenly seeing stars. He was hitting my sweet spot now and I couldn't contain my moans any longer. I could feel it building, and building, and building.  

"Don't you dare stop." I panted. 

"Eyes on me, darling." He ordered, grabbing my face, and making me look him in the eyes. "I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come on my cock." 

Oh, God. He was speaking to me in Italian, and I didn't have the slightest clue as to what he was saying, but it was hot. 

"Alec, please. Make me cum. I want to come." 

"Fuck, so tight for me." He thrust harder and I could feel the walls of my pussy starting to tighten up. "I want to see you come undone around me." 

"A-Alec!" 

He forced me to look up at him again as I came hard, legs wrapping around his waist as he nearly collapsed on top of me. If I was seeing stars before, now I was suddenly seeing a whole fucking galaxy. 

"Fuck." He kissed me deeply as I felt him spasming inside me, cool liquid coating the walls of my pussy. 

He hovered like that for a long moment, his kisses turning into soft, languid ones, his hands roaming in even softer caresses. Finally, he pulled out of me, and let his eyes wonder over me. I'm sure I looked a mess, but he seemed to like what he saw, judging by the smirk on his face. 

"Come, amore. Let's get you cleaned up." 

"I don't think I can walk." I closed my eyes, doing my best to breathe and not die from great sex. 

"I can definitely help you there." 

I nearly yelped as he lifted me from the bed bridal style. 

"Is this your way of saying you want shower sex?" I wriggled my eyebrows at him. 

"I had not really thought of it, but if you insist." 

I laughed and snuggled into his chest. 

He paused a moment, really looking me over now. "I am truly sorry, Y/N. For everything." 

I placed a hand on his cheek. "Apology accepted." 

NEXT - (Outtake)

{Masterlist}

Translation (Done via Google): Tesoro: Darling/Treasure  Mio Cara: My darling.  Principessa: Princess 

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[moonshynecybin]

thinking about FCO Rosquez at their first PR-forced public dinner (like a week or two after the announcement, Wednesday or Thursday night) and how their conversation is supposed to go when Marc was dying to talk to Valentino all winter (still has a string of unanswered texts in his phone) but now he’s closed off and Valentino wants to make this work but can’t have them fight in public or be silent for an entire hour, do we think they find a middle ground or Vale just talk about random things on his own or they somehow ignore everything and are able to tell each other about their winter or subjects that have nothing to do with MotoGP or—

court mandated date night nooooo poor marc :(

this is so nuts to think about... like even outside the insane emotional reality of getting outed and the violence of public scrutiny and like. marc having (once again !) his ability to control his own narrative ripped away from him by his association with valentino— which is his LEAST favorite thing (i do think he blames himself for the photos though... like maybe if i wasnt such a whore we wouldnt be in this mess :((( which. marc buddy naur.) on TOP of that he is having a romantic candellit dinner with his ex situationship that he is still in love with. one million points lightning damage. so everyone is extremely strung out at this shitty little date night table (michelin restaurant lbr) and marc has justtttt gone dark on his whatsapp thread with valentino. maybe he is trying to maybe exert some control over his life here in small ways... put up SOME walls in clumsy self protective fashion...

but VALE is like okay. so if this thing between us is public he doesnt want it or want me. interesting. okay im cool im fine im good np who cares i hate him anyway (girl.) and he's also um. kind of reeling from the abrupt reversal of the status quo here tbh. marc has never played hard to get ever ever not once in his entire life. no self preservation on that man 5ever. he's literally always been there giving vale flattering attention and being in love with him !!! so vale is kind of off-balance here being met with some version of the marc marquez freezeout, not sure how to react but missing marc's attention. and he chooses to compensate as he does with most roadblocks in his life: full charm offensive. (he also, in some selfless and tender corner in the back of his mind that he is trying to ignore, just really and truly knows marc is FREAKED and misses seeing him laugh. he wants the evil jajajas.... he will do anything for the evil jajajas....) so he is trying. SO hard to get him to crack a smile. lowkey causing a scene in the restaurant by being such a clown... but marc isnt really biting. is still responding, like they ARE having a conversation, but its nothing like it used to be. clearly he is just being polite. smiles twice ALL night—all wan and pale and beautiful and so clearly exhausted—and vale's mouth gets all dry and his ribcage feels like its going to implode. and of course in response to this he is like wow. my heartburn is going crazy. damn. [chugging wine].

like looking to real life, as awkward as rosquez have been in their years of estrangement, they have always had to share space. for 6 years in that paddock ! that's a lot of years of small talk ! they can have and will do it if necessary... so as the night drags i think marc talks about riding and the season to fill in the gaps... goes home and gives himself a list of regimented rules to stick to when interacting with valentino (i see him texting exclusively the PR thread more as his classically unpracticed self protection style than like. a deliberate fuck you to that end. i cant drunk booty call vale if karen from PR is also there type stuff). that being said, eventually i do think he makes elaborate excuses to BEND these rules bc he still wants valentino's attention. and also his tongue in his mouth. hes like okay! i am only kissing valentino in front of tv cameras if we both podium! and then they DONT share a podium and hes like. okay! it would be WEIRD if i didnt kiss vale after i podiumed even if he didnt! because thats what i would do if we were actually together! [starts jogging across the paddock like a dick-seeking missile.]

[nonexistent-introvert]

Hug Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Content: angst, fight, Joel being mean, guilt, heartbreak,

A/N: I really just wanted to write a fic based of the cover of this song done by BTS V and J-hope. I linked the original artist but there is a part where its J hope's rap so it wasn't included in the original song.

Update: I decided to link a SoundCloud link for the cover too!!

Part 2 !!!!

 Unable to win over my heart of sorrow

I endure yet another dark night of sleeplessness

Without a care about my despair

The morning heartlessly wakes me up

 The buzzing of Jackson was replaced with silence at this hour. The sounds of nature replaced the usual city buzz. You hated the silence, the bustle was the only thing that distracted you from your thoughts. While everyone is asleep, you lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Trying your best to push down the lump in your throat and silence the voices in your head. Every time you closed your eyes, the whole scene replays on a loop, reminding you of what had happened. Your heart clenched, constricting on itself. The tear streaks still shine in the moonlight. 

   You don’t think you got a single night of sleep since your fight with Joel. If you were lucky, maybe you would get naps and the times when you had just collapsed because of sheer exhaustion. It was lucky that you always collapsed when you returned home. You didn’t want anyone realising how much despair you were in, you didn’t need the concern. 

   When the voices stopped, a bright light has already shone into your room. The silence was now filled with various greetings and laughs. Many people waking up early for patrol or to provide and contribute their services to Jackson. You stood up, exhaustion weighing your body down. You tried to ignore the reflections of yourself, you doubted you looked well at all. 

  It was heartless, wasn’t it? How time still passed indifferently despite the pain you were in. 

The scars hurt more than I expected

The pain goes deeper than I expected

The countless nights I spend resenting you

Are like hell to me

  You catch passing glances at Joel, he always seemed preoccupied with some kind of work. You tore your eyes away from him anyways while your heart ached longingly for him. His porch was empty at night, he used to strum his guitar there, hoping that the melodies would bring you to him. 

  You rid the thoughts of him, you really should stop thinking about him. Your heart clenched at the thought, as though it protested against you. The logical part of you urges you to just move on with your life, go back to the life before you filled your days with Joel’s company. Then there was your heart which ached constantly for Joel, and yet, it refuses to let go of him. 

  What was wrong with you? It has been almost a month since the both of you fought. Joel looked like he moved on fine so why were you the only one who was suffering? 

   You hated Joel Miller. You hated him for the pain he had put you through. You hated him for how easily he moved on, as though you hadn’t meant a single thing to him. Your logical mind listed every single one of Joel’s faults and flaws. However, your heart simply yearned for Joel, reminding you of the times you spent with him. When he made you the happiest you have ever been. When he gave you that boyish smile, when he laughed at one of your remarks when he teases you with his iconic drawl.

  When he had muttered to you the words he never had the courage to say while you’re awake.

  “You mean so much more to me than you’ll ever know darlin’” 

  The tears flowed again, just like every other night. It was like your own personal torture. 

 Stay by my side, stay with me

Don’t let go of my hand you hold

If you take one step away

I can just take one step closer

  “Joel please!” You begged, holding onto his hand. There was a split moment in time where Joel hesitated and his gaze softened ever so slightly. Joel wrung his hand out from your grip, turning away from you as he ran his hands through his hair. You took a step closer to him, “I’m sorry.” You uttered. “I need some time.” And Joel slammed the door behind him

Thousands of times a day

My thoughts come back to you

All the cruel words you said to me

That icy look, those cold expressions

   You blasted the music that was playing in your ears. Trying to drown out the words that he had said that day. You distracted yourself with the lyrics of the song, hoping that it would stop the scene from replaying in your head. You were never seen without your earphones after that day, because when your mind was allowed to wander, it would wander back to him. The music helps to reduce how vivid the memory was. 

   “There is no ‘us’. There was never an ‘us’ and there will not be.” Joel gritted out. Your fists shook uncontrollably beside you. When you finally found the courage to look up at him, the look in his eyes was unrecognisable. It was a look he gave to enemies, a cold glare void of any warmth, so unlike the looks he always gave you. He was no longer the Joel who called you darling then, he was Joel Miller, the man who murdered the fireflies in cold blood and destroyed any chances of a cure. 

  You shivered at the memory, your breath hastened considerably. 

You were such a pretty person

You were such a pretty person

Please don’t do this to me

You know me well

   In this apocalypse, no one trusted each other. Even in Jackson, trust takes time to build, you had to earn your place here by helping out. Joel Miller was reliable, polite, and reasonable, being Tommy’s brother also helped him easily earn the trust of many. However, you don’t remember the day you decided to trust him with everything you had. Maybe it was the countless times he had saved you from close calls during patrols. 

  It was definitely the times he had spent slowly warming up to you. When he had mentioned to you what Ellie was up to during patrol when he came up to you and asked you all about the lore of Savage Starlight. Those were the times when you slowly gave your heart to him, bit by bit, till it wasn’t yours anymore. 

   His good looks were hardened by the apocalypse, but when he let the traces of a smile show and let out a laugh or wheeze, you knew you fell for him even more. So when he slammed the door on you that day and walked out of your life like he never meant anything, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. 

  The glimpse of a pained look on his face showed that he knew that your heart shattered at his words. Knew that his actions were enough to leave a bleeding heart behind. Joel Miller knew you too well. 

  And that was why, it had hurt so much. 

Those words you said lightly at the time

Made light our relationship in the end

I didn’t know familiarity was the scariest thing

I didn’t know your heart, until our end full of regrets

By the day, your empty spot grows bigger

   Perhaps it was your fault that you decided to try to walk on the tightrope that was yours and Joel’s relationship. The both of you tethered on the line of friends, as though the both of you were testing the limits of it. You should have known that when you went beyond the line, you would walk on the tightrope, never sure if Joel would catch you when you did fall from the tightrope. From your situation now, you know that he didn’t catch you, he was never prepared to catch you. 

  The months you had spent with him, the time you had spent laughing and talking to him under the stars, the nights you had spent in his arms. It all felt like a long dream as soon as the weight of his words comprehended in your mind. 

  “There is no ‘us’, there never was and there never will.” 

  “We should have never met.”

   You chuckle sadly at yourself now, you had even once thought of what it will be like being his wife. Just like how Maria is Tommy’s wife. It seemed like a childish dream now. The scariest part of it all was how you thought you knew him like the palm of your hand, you trusted him enough to not hurt you and walk out so heartlessly, that he would at least have had the decency to let you down slowly. It took everything falling apart, it took regrets pilling on one another to know Joel Miller truly.   No matter what, the place Joel had left vacant in your heart only seems to grow bigger by the day.

 Even if we water our flower bed that was once beautiful

Only our memories remain in full bloom

Only the scent of longing wafts out

   Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it simply numbs the pain that comes from the wounds. When you stare at Joel as he passes you, you couldn’t help the sad smile that forms on your lips. Mourning for the one who got away, what could have been a fairytale. As you watched him lift a bunch of fresh supplies for Jackson, your heart ached numbly in your heart. Even if you did give him and you a chance again, the fight and the trust that was lost between you in this period of time would forever hinder the relationship. You knew Joel and you would never go back to how you were back then, you were thankful that at least the happiness was contained in happy memories that you could look back on. On those days when you reminisce your memories with him and contemplate fixing things between the both of you, you could only remind yourself of the cold truth. However, you couldn’t stop your heart from yearning for him. 

If I can just see you again

I want to show you my everything

I’ll hug you and hold you tight

So you can read my beating heart

For real, for real

Until this truth rests in your embrace

   Joel sat down in his favourite chair with a grunt. The cold silence that greeted him in his home was not something that he looked forward to. He sighed, listening to one of his records play, letting the music accompany him instead. So he does not feel that alone. 

  “She left today. Not sure what she’s up to but she did make some joke of coming back if she doesn’t die.” Tommy casually told Joel over patrol. Joel’s heart stopped for a moment, asking for more details but it seems like you deliberately didn’t leave much. Joel bit back on his tongue, he had no right asking about you, not when he treated you like that. 

   The guilt haunted him every day since he walked out of your house that day. His pride not letting him go and apologise to you, and because he also thought that you would be better off without him. You deserved better than an old grumpy man like him. 

   But knowing that he couldn’t even see you around town now, unable to know if you are okay killed him internally. Joel could only blame himself for letting you go. Then he slowly got selfish, till the point where if he saw you again, he would plead every day for your forgiveness and hope that you would give him another chance. He will hold you in his arms, letting you hear his heartbeat, how it skips when he’s near you, how it paces when he sees you. His heartbeat will tell you the words he never got to tell you. Until you finally realize how much you mean to him and that he will forever blame himself for letting you go.

  Just hug me, please hug me

Just run to me without a word

 Joel wishes you would run into his arms again like you always did. You would call out his name and run towards him with a big grin. He will extend his arms out and welcome you into his arms. If the both of you were alone, you would even wrap your legs around him. Then he could let his heart skip a few beats at the sound of your giggles before you nuzzle your nose into his neck. Maybe after you came back from the trip you were on, you would run into his arms again, and he will welcome you like nothing has ever changed. 

With a lonely and anxious heart

Like this I wait for you

  For the first time since that day he fought with you, Joel picked up his guitar and sat on his porch again. He strummed melodies that he knew you would hum to, that you would start walking in beat to. Then you’ll dramatically sing out the lyrics when you see him, like you were a Disney princess in a Disney musical. He chuckles at the memory. Joel Miller will wait for you to come back to him. His music expresses his love for you, hoping that one day you’ll notice it. 

He will talk to the moon about how much he loves you and hope that you’ll forgive him. His lonely heart anxiously awaits the day he will receive the message that you were back in Jackson and he had a chance to make things right with you. 

   His foolish and weak heart wishes that the moon would help convey his love and intentions to you. Joel hopes that you were talking to the moon too. After all, the only thing he had in common with you now was the sky above you from wherever you stood now. 

 I love you, I love you

I’ll shout out from this long silence

My foolish and weak heart

[padfootagain]

Complicated

Hello everyone! I’m answering a request today that was sent a few weeks ago! This request was sent by an anon : “Y/n is a new one of the main cast in S&B(In her 20s) She has a crush on Ben. Anyways she doesn't show it ofc and she was afraid if she will fit with the cast members or not.Yn is a bit shy and introverted. And we know how close Jessei and Ben are but it kinda upsets her cause She's not that close with Ben?!? Idk if I'm portraying it well or not but can you write something like that?!?”

I haven’t included the detail of the reader’s age… simply because the occasion didn’t arise in the fic as I was writing it, I hope it’s okay. So… fluff and a little bit of angst because we are writing for pining idiots and a slightly jealous reader…

I hope you enjoy your fic anon! And I hope everyone else enjoys it too! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Summary: Ben and you are working together on Shadow and Bone, and have grown closer and closer as the months flew by. But when you truly fall for him, everything becomes complicated…

Warnings: a slightly jealous reader. Some mutual pining. Lots of fluff.

Word count: 4171

Ben Barnes’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It’s complicated.

Everything is complicated.

Everything is a mess, and it’s all because of him.

You stare at Ben as he laughs, bubbly and merry and infectious…

You hate the way it makes you feel happy to see him that way. You hate that you can’t just walk over there, across the set, and kiss these lips of his that always seem to be calling for your own…

You can’t do it. You just can’t. It isn’t a possibility, because you’re working together, and he probably doesn’t even like you at all and…

You force your train of thoughts to stop. This is not the right place nor the right time to be contemplating your recent crush on your co-worker. Now, on the contrary, it is time to finish reading your lines one last time before being called for your scene.

But you’re distracted again when Archie nudges you.

“Hey, are you coming to Jessie’s party tonight?” he asks, shoving a small pastry into his mouth.

You smile at him, nodding your head.

“Sure, it sounds fun.”

You’re lying. Blatantly so. You’re not so much into parties like these, but you need to socialize to get along with your co-workers, and you want to fit in the cast. You’re only just arriving for this second season, after all. Even if the shooting has started several weeks ago, you’re still a little uncertain sometimes. But then again, maybe that’s because you always lack confidence…

“Awesome! It’ll be fun, you’ll see! Jessie always throws the best parties!”

You nod again, as if you knew what he is talking about, while already planning some fake excuses to go home early, and a strategy to remain as quiet and alone as possible during the event.

Damn, that introverted part of you really is a pain in the arse sometimes…

“Who’s coming? Everyone?” you ask, closing your script, aware that you will not be able to work before your scene now that your colleague has joined you.

“Yep! Having a hard time convincing our grandpa over there, though,” he jokes, nodding towards Ben. “He’s had a busy week, and he’s exhausted. But I’ll find a way to convince him, don’t worry. I want to get everyone coming tonight.”

“Nice!”

You hope he can manage to convince Ben. You truly do. Because… well, you have a crush on him, after all. A stupid, ridiculous, terribly serious crush on him. And if he can come tonight, the evening might not be so bad, after all…

Speaking of the devil…

Your heart quickens its pace as Ben approaches, a calm, comforting smile on his lips. He looks gentle and kind and a little mischievous, like he always does. He’s in full costume and make-up; dark scars running across his handsome features, and a long leathery coat embroidered with gold floating behind him. It doesn’t match, the scary and intimidating look against the softness in his dark eyes…

“What are you two troublemakers planning now?” he asks, his voice full of humour and teasing.

“Well, we’re talking about tonight. You know, the amazing party you’re planning on missing?” Archie answers.

“Ha… yes, at Jessie’s?”

“Yep!”

“I’ve had such a tiring week, I just want to sleep,” Ben admits.

He seems tempted nonetheless. After all, Jessie does throw the best parties.

“Come on! You don’t have to stay for too long, we’re used to you abandoning us before midnight. Come on, everyone but you has said yes already! Even Y/N is coming!”

Ben turns to you, hesitation intensifying on his features.

“You’re coming too?”

You nod.

“Yep! Sounds fun! You should come too. You can leave early, if you want. But it would be nice to have everyone around. Right, Archie?”

“Absolutely! Ben, you’re coming. That’s decided!”

Ben laughs, shaking his head.

“I haven’t said yes…”

“Now, come on. Y/N is asking you to come! Look at how disappointed she looks that you’re not coming…”

You feign a sad pout, batting your lashes, and Ben can’t refrain a laugh. He rolls his eyes but then again… if you’re coming…

Then, it gives him a perfect excuse to see you. He knows he shouldn’t think of you this way. Because this… silly, crazy, extremely intense crush he has on you can only make everything complicated. You’re working together, and you probably don’t even feel the same and…

… and yet, every time he sees you, his heart skips a beat. And he longs to see you, even if it’s just from across the room, and if he listened to himself, he would admit that he longs for far more than simply being near you…

But then again, it would make his life unbearably complicated. And you… you probably don’t feel the same, so why bother?

“Please, come to the party tonight!” you ask again, offering him a friendly smile. “You’re the person I know best in the cast, as we’ve had plenty of scenes together already… it’ll be less fun without you!”

Now, you’re looking at him with these pleading eyes, and you’re saying it’ll make you happy to see him there…

… how could he say no to that? How could he say no to you?

He heaves a sigh, but nods anyway.

“Alright, alright… I’ll come.”

“Yes!”

Archie and you share a high-five, while Ben keeps on laughing at the two of you.

But then again… if he can see you a little longer, outside of the studio, it’s worth the dark bags that will grow even more under his eyes…

Ben is blowing his cheeks, miming something big and round. You have no idea what he’s doing, and look at him with round eyes, scraping in every corner of your mind… what on Earth is he doing?

He adds a moustache with a finger under his nose and frowns hard, as if he’s angry and disdainful… Still, you’ve got no clue… it could be anyone…

His face changes back to his normal demeanour, and traces something that looks like a lightning bolt on his forehead…

And you got it! At last!

“Dursley! Vernon Dursley!”

Ben claps his hands and cheers, right as the timer rings. It was the last round of charades for the night, and as Ben comes to join you on the sofa, giving you a high-five for this last guess of yours, you’re all awaiting the final results.

You know the results are close… Jessie and Freddy have done an amazing job tonight as well. You wait for Calahan to count the last points, Danielle peering over his large shoulder to get a glimpse while she sips on her glass of red wine.

It’s merry. You’re happy to have come to the party, in the end. It’s still quite early, you know the mood is shifting to a more ‘partying’ colour, and you have no doubts that after this game, Kit is going to put on some music and start some kind of dancing competition. You know you’ll like this part of the night a little less, but so far, it’s almost 11 and you’re quite happy and at ease still.

Besides, Fortune decided to pair you up with Ben for this game, when you drew his name from one of Jessie’s hats. And as he sits down next to you, making the cushion bend a little under his weight, as he shifts next to you to get comfortable, as he leans forward to grab his glass of wine on the coffee table, as his shoulder brushes against yours with each of his movements…

Yes, the evening isn’t so bad, after all…

“Oh, we have some winners…” Calahan theatrically raises up his hands, picking the sheet of paper holding the results. “And the winners are… Ben and Y/N!”

Ben and you cheer, and you are quite surprised when he pulls you in a tight hug.

Warm. Safe. That’s the best way to describe his embrace, even if it lasts just a couple of seconds. It’s enough to make your head spin, your heart race under your ribs, you’re intoxicated already with his soft wooden smell…

But he pulls away soon, too soon… he has to. Breathing in your sweet perfume, and holding you close, feeling the air leaving your lungs to collide with his cheek and ear… it’s too much for him to handle. He’s already blushing, he can’t let you see how he feels…

It feels cold when he pulls away, empty. His embrace is filled with air again, and he hates it. You seemed to fit so well in his arms, your warmth spreading through his frame…

He pushes the thought away. This evening is nice, merry, full of light. He enjoys it. He knows that Kit will soon turn on the music, and he’ll soon be a little bit bored, as he won’t take part in the dancing. It’s alright, though. He hopes you won’t dance either. He hopes you’ll stay a little bit longer…

Around the two of you, people are teasing your team, saying you’ve cheated, laughing at your outraged faces. It’s fun and light-hearted.

The back of your hand brushes Ben’s as you shift on the couch, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. It’s electrifying, this sensation…

You need to stay a little longer to the party, just to socialize, to make sure you’ll fit in with the group. But you have to admit that you’re a little bit uncomfortable when Kit starts the music, and most people start dancing.

You decide that you deserve a little bit of intimacy, and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You stay there a few minutes, just to recharge your social batteries a little. You’re hesitating between aiming for the kitchen or the sofa as you walk out the tiny room. The kitchen will be a little quieter, you reckon. But then again, Ben will probably be in the living room…

You’re smiling at the thought of talking to him again when you step in the living room. Everybody is dancing, except for Freddy and Amita who are chatting, sitting on the couch. You’re looking for Ben, but can’t spot him anywhere. He’s not dancing, and you’re not surprised. You aim for the kitchen.

He’s standing there alright. A glass in his hand, he’s leaning against the counter, laughing with Jessie. She leans against him, they’re standing against each other.

And you can’t help it. You wish you could stop the feeling from spreading through your veins, but you can’t. You wish you could stop yourself from being jealous, but you can’t…

Apparently, there’s nothing romantic between these two, but sometimes… like now… you envy their connection.

Because Ben doesn’t lean against you like that. He doesn’t laugh so hard with you. He doesn’t… he doesn’t act like that with you. And perhaps that’s yet another sign that he doesn’t see anything more than a friend in you…

You take a deep breath, turning around to face the dancing group again. The music is loud and pulsing. After seeing Ben like this… it’s a little too much…

“Hey, Y/N!”

You don’t turn around to face Ben, even if he’s calling you. Instead, you ignore him, act like you haven’t heard anything, and stride across the room. Your feet guide you to the front door, and you grab your coat as you hurry out of the apartment.

You feel ridiculous for feeling this way. You have no rights to be jealous, you’re nothing more than a friend to him. Still… still it hurts to see him so close to someone else…

“Y/N!”

You freeze. You’re waiting for the elevator, in the middle of the corridor. It smells of cigarettes, the white walls a little bit yellowed by nicotine and tobacco…

“Y/N? Where are you going?”

You turn around, at last. You can’t avoid it anymore. Ben is standing there, on the threshold of Jessie’s apartment. He’s frowning, staring at you. He doesn’t seem angry though, only taken aback.

The doors of the elevator open behind you, bathing your frame in a cold white light. They open fully with a little ‘ding’. You struggle to swallow, before you can speak, extending your arm inside the elevator to keep its doors open for you.

“I’m going home. I’m tired. Besides… dancing isn’t my strong suit so… better head out,” you explain, hoping that Ben won’t notice the way your voice is shaking.

He seems disappointed. If he wanted to hide his reaction, he’s bad at it. He gives you a smile anyway.

“Okay… Humm… Would you mind if I walked to the subway with you?”

“Don’t you want to stay a little longer?”

“Not really. I’m knackered. You had to convince me to come, remember?”

“Right… okay then.”

Ben disappears for a mere second, just to grab his coat. Soon, you’re entering the elevator together.

He has a shy but warm smile on his lips. He can’t really summon anything else right now. You’re standing right next to him, you don’t seem to mind that your shoulders and arms are brushing against each other. He does though. He minds terribly, because it makes his heart pounder in his chest, and he can’t breathe properly. He can feel butterflies starting their flight across his stomach, and he can’t take any more of it. He takes a step back.

It breaks your heart. The way he adds distance between the two of you, when earlier with Jessie he…

You push the thought away as the doors open again, and you hurry out of the tiny space in favour of the large hall of the building, then the street.

It’s springtime in Budapest, the air is still chilly despite the warmth that has started to rise during the day. But now, it’s night time and the air is cold and makes you shiver despite your coat. You welcome the feeling though, it makes you forget Ben’s warmth…

“You’re calling for a cab?” Ben asks, standing right behind you.

But you shake your head.

“No, I’ll just walk for a bit. Then take the bus.”

“Alright…”

“You’re calling a taxi?”

“No… No, I thought… do you mind if I join you?”

“No… not at all.”

His smile is brighter this time, and you can’t help the way it makes your heart skip a beat. You match his smile without even noticing…

Soon, you’ve settled in a leisurely pace. None of you seem willing to hurry. Why would you? You both long to spend as much time together as possible…

Ben is the first to break the silence that has settled between the two of you. In the distance, traffic hums in a regular pattern. There is a rhythm to the night. Still busy despite the darkness and the glimmering lights. It’s a little shushed though, distant. It comes only out of the large streets and boulevards, the small alleys are quiet, sleepy. As you walk further down the street, bathed in the golden streetlights, you tighten your hold on your coat. The wind pushes papers abandoned on the street, they roll in a shuffling noise that matches the rustling of the tree leaves.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Ben asks, burying his hands in the pockets of his black jacket.

“No… just sleep. A lot of rest. And some lines to learn,” you give him an amused smile, and he chuckles.

“Yeah, I feel your pain.”

“What about you?”

“Same, basically. Have a busy week coming again.”

“Yeah… they seem determined to make you work crazy hours these days.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it by now. I just hope to catch on some sleep this weekend, so I won’t have to hide these dark bags under my eyes with too much make up.”

You chuckle, and he wishes you could laugh. A full-on laugh. He likes the sound of these…

Jessie’s words come back to his mind, right when he saw you leaving her apartment. He remembers what she told him, and it bothers him.

You should stop overthinking it and tell her while you still have a chance.

Is there someone else in your life? And why did you leave like this? You were almost… running away…

Maybe Jessie’s right. Everyone on set seems to have picked up that he likes you. That he has a crush on you. Maybe he should stop thinking so much about the consequences but… he can’t help it. He’s a rational man. He wishes, sometimes, for a little bit more freedom. For a little bit more naivety in his actions. But he’s lived long enough to learn that one ought to think before acting.

He heaves a sigh, without noticing, busy with his own thoughts. It makes you look up at him with a frown.

“Ben? You’re okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, sure.”

“Why this desperate sigh, then?” you tease, amused.

“I’m sorry, I was… lost in thought…”

“Come on, tell me! A penny for your thought!”

You’re cute. It’s almost annoying how adorable you look right now. A glint of mischief alit in your eyes, and a tender smile on your lips. You look soft, domestic almost, holding tightly your coat around your frame. He wishes he could wrap an arm around you, pull you to him, use the excuse of the chilly weather to keep you close. But he knows you’re shy, introverted, and he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He knows he’s a tactile kind of guy, but not everyone is. He doesn’t want to go too far.

Besides… if he does hold you close… will his poor little heart survive?

But he’s being ridiculous with all this. He’s not a teenager anymore. He knows how life works, how relationships work, what his feelings for you mean. He’s got to stop being so shy around you. Jessie says you like him too… maybe she’s right…

If he’s wrong, everything will become complicated. But then again… sometimes… complicated is nicer than simple.

He takes a deep breath, before diving…

“Actually… I was wondering… do you have someone in your life?”

Your eyes widen, your eyebrows shoot up… you look more than surprised…

“I… no, I’m single. Why?”

Ben shrugs, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Just… I was just wondering.”

“You?”

“Me?”

You chuckle, as he doesn’t seem to understand what you mean.

“What about you? Are you single?” you repeat, and he blushes hard, silently cursing himself.

What a moron…

“I’m single too,” he answers.

“I… why are you asking me this though?”

He notices how you shy away a little. How you bend your head. How nervous you look.

But he can’t back down this time. He’s got to do something about all this.

“Just… asking.”

“Why?”

“I thought… maybe we could… go have some diner together? Or a coffee? Or… anything you’d like, really.”

You freeze. You stop dead, standing still in the middle of the street. In a nearby alley, you hear someone singing drunkenly. You ignore the sound though. You merely stare at Ben. He’s so handsome like this, his frame tainted golden under a lamppost…

“Are you… asking me on a date?” you stutter.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Why?”

Ben blinks, an amused smile appearing on his lips.

“Why do you think I’m asking you on a date? Because I… want to go on a date with you.”

“Yes, but… I… me?”

His smile falters, he looks down at his feet, kicks into an invisible pebble, his hands still buried in his pockets. He doesn’t want you to see the way he clenches his fists…

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I get it. It’s not going to be the first time a woman says no…”

“I’m not saying no!”

“Are you saying yes, then?”

“I just… I thought…”

But then, you remember the way he acts with Jessie, and he’s not like this with you. He didn’t offer you his arm as you walked together, the way he always does when she’s around and he…

You shake your head. You like him. If you’re to be honest with yourself, you do feel a little bit more than a crush for him. A lot more, actually.

But you’re not stupid. You’re not a teenager anymore, you know how these things work. And you don’t want to get your heart broken.

Maybe he’s just doing this to make her jealous… the thought breaks your heart…

“I don’t think you mean that,” you answer earnestly.

Ben looks up at you again, frowning hard.

“What?”

“We’re working together…”

“I know… but I don’t think it would be a problem. But then again… I can wait. If you want us to finish shooting the show before we can go on a date… I’ll wait. I’ll ask you again once we’re not working together anymore.”

You know he means it. You can see it in his brown eyes. Brown… they’re fully black though. You can’t see where his irises start, where his pupils end…

His gaze is earnest as much as it is hypnotic.

You’re more puzzled than ever.

“But… I thought… you and Jessie…”

But Ben rolls his eyes, almost annoyed.

“We’re friends. Nothing more. People like gossiping, that’s all.”

“I’ve seen the way you act with her. You two are very close.”

“And?”

“And… I thought you… were like that…”

“She’s just a friend.”

“But you’re not like that with me.”

He frowns again, but lets you continue.

“You’re… not… close to me. Not like that. I thought it was because… because you’re closer to her, than you are with me.”

“It’s just different.”

“You’re always touching and hugging everyone… but not me. It’s not just Jessie… I think it’s about me. I thought you were… friendly with me. That’s all.”

“I just…”

He lets out a breathy chuckle.

“You make me nervous,” he admits, and there’s something a little sad in his smile now. Or… not quite sad but… fragile. “Besides… you’re shy. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I like hugs, but I’m also aware some people don’t like that.”

“I like hugs,” you answer.

Which is quite ridiculous, and Ben can’t help but laugh.

“Good to know.”

He takes a step closer, his heart beating so fast. He hasn’t felt so giddy and excited and utterly nervous in years… what are you doing to him?

“I like you,” he confesses in a breath, letting it all out in a shaky whisper, and you stop breathing altogether at the sound. “I like you… a lot. And I’m just… nervous and… afraid to make you uncomfortable. But I… Y/N you can’t imagine how much I want to hold you right now and… touch you and… kiss you and…”

“Do it then.”

He falls silent, and you do too. Because it isn’t really like you to be so bold, but you can’t help it. You’re not really thinking anymore. His words register into your brain, you make sense of them, and you want him to do everything he’s saying out loud, and that’s all you know, all that you’re aware of. That, and the fact that he’s standing very close to you, maybe a little too close, close enough for your chests to brush against each other as you fill up your lungs with air…

“What did you say?” he asks, his voice shaking.

He’s searching for something in your eyes. You think it might be reassurance…

“I said that you should do it.”

“It?”

“All that you’ve just said.”

A crooked smile appears on his lips, his hands coming out of his pockets to reach up towards your cheeks.

“Even the part where I’m kissing you?”

You smile, nodding.

“Especially that part, I think.”

“Alright… but then… can we have a date.”

“Okay. But… everything is going to be complicated. Like… we work together and… and it’s going to be a mess and…”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

His palms have reached your cheeks, warm and a little calloused, and you adore the feeling. You lean into his touch, his fingertips lost in your hair.

“Do you want me to kiss you now?” he asks, leaning closer, his lips bare centimetres away from yours.

“Yes. Yes, I do… but…”

“Then let’s just get things impossibly complicated… and let’s kiss too.”

You’ve closed your eyes at the feeling of his warm breath fanning against your mouth and…

… and then he closes the gap between you. And it’s gentle, almost shy. Delicate. It becomes more heated though, after he pulls away for a second, just long enough to change the angle of his lips upon yours, so he can have better access to your mouth, so he can deepen the kiss and…

Christ, that is too good… too good to be true…

When you part, you’re both out of breath.

“So… are you convinced that I like you now?” Ben asks, brushing his nose against yours.

You open your eyes again, just to fall in his gaze.

“Kind of, yes.”

“So… What about Sunday for the date?”

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

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic

[scarabsinthestardust]

The Hurtin' Kind

MASTERLIST

Josh x male OC

I know I should be working on Tender, but I got this silly little idea in my head and couldn't ignore it any longer. And no, I definitely *checks notes* did not model this character after Orville Peck (I just think he's neat, okay??) If anyone's feeling adventurous and wants to write the actual smut for this, you're more than welcome to (we will have a spring wedding). Anyways, enjoy! And thanks for reading.

Listen to the inspiration here

WARNINGS: drinking; some light, general sadness; implications of sex; I dunno, let me know if I missed anything

word count: 1800+

Josh was not having a good day. It had been stressful, to say the least, and quite disastrous. He’d been at the studio all day trying to record music for their newest album, and nothing seemed to be going right. He couldn’t hit the right notes and kept forgetting the lyrics, which then led to insufferable bickering between him and his brothers. He pushed back, blaming it on their inability to play the music they’d all written together, and before long, everyone was so frustrated they couldn’t look at each other. Josh had been fighting off a headache all day and wanted nothing more than to go home and get some much needed sleep, but he was wired from the arguing and he needed to wind down.

On top of it all, and he hated to admit it, he was lonely. He couldn’t pinpoint when or why he started feeling that way, but it had become an ever-present nagging in his gut, like a splinter he couldn’t free from under his skin. He’d always been the happy one, the one who’s constantly smiling and laughing, the one who gets compared to the sun due to his joyous nature. But sometimes it was exhausting. Sometimes he just wanted to abandon the role for someone else to have, to go some place where no one knows his name, where he could wallow in peace.

That’s how he ended up here, in this dimly lit bar on the edge of town, where he almost forgot he was even in the city. He’s seated at a table by himself, nursing a drink and allowing himself to get lost in his own thoughts. He turned his phone off, and he’s sure to have quite a collection of missed calls and text messages from his brothers, but he wasn’t currently concerned about that.

The atmosphere of the place was kind of relaxing. It wasn’t necessarily dingy in any way. In fact, it was sort of homey. Mostly everyone seemed to know each other, exchanging friendly conversations as they sipped their beers. A couple on the opposite side of the room were leaning into each other, lost in their blissful smiles and subtle touches. Some patrons appeared to be in the same kind of mood as Josh, sitting alone, sorrow painted clearly on their faces. The jukebox in the corner was playing a familiar song – Wicked Game. It seemed appropriate for the climate of the bar.

Josh hummed along quietly to the music as he traced a finger through the condensation on his glass, staring down at the chipped varnish on the table. He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings, and he jumped when a deep voice rang out in front of him.

“Ain’t seen you around here before.”

Josh raised his head, fully intending to ask to be left alone, but things don’t always go as planned. He found himself staring at the handsome stranger, intrigued by the way he carried himself, obviously so confident, with a charming smile on his face. His short, reddish beard was neatly trimmed. He was dressed in a maroon, Western-styled button up, his sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, a pair of dark jeans (that fit him nicely if Josh was being honest), and a black cowboy hat perched atop his head. Josh couldn’t help but notice his tattoos, including the snake wrapped around his right arm, its head resting on the back of his hand. He decided to humor the stranger, oddly curious as to where it might lead.

“Yeah, I’m new to the scene.” Josh smiled sheepishly, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Well, I’d love to be the one to show you around.” His accent was thick; he was probably a Tennessee native or hailed from some other deep southern state. “May I?”

Josh nodded, inviting him to sit. The yellow light above the table didn’t offer much in the way of illumination, but the man’s blue eyes practically sparkled in it regardless.

“I’m curious though, why a sweet thing like you is sittin’ here all by your lonesome.”

Coming from anyone else, his words might have been cringe-inducing, but they had heat rising up in Josh’s cheeks. “Just had a long day. Needed to wind down, ya know.”

The man seemed to contemplate Josh’s words, turning them over in his head like he was trying to decide if it was a lie. “What are you actually runnin’ from, Blue?”

Josh was taken aback by the question and the impromptu nickname. “What makes you think I’m running?”

“Hm.” The man leaned forward, his elbows on the table. He maintained such intense eye contact that had Josh feeling squirmy but was unable to look away. “You’ve got a thunderstorm in you. I can see the lightnin’ in your eyes.”

Josh’s heart was racing, the undeniable fluttering in his stomach getting harder to ignore. How does one even respond to something like that? The man’s presence was powerful, and it seemed to make everything and everyone around them melt away. Just being in close proximity to him was enough for Josh to feel the buzz. He wondered what it would feel like to touch the mysterious man, and Josh definitely wanted more. But overall, he was mostly curious. Something in him knew this wasn’t just a basic interaction with a flirty, and likely tipsy, cowboy. “Who are you?” The raspy sound of his own whisper surprised him.

“Most folks call me Colt, but you can call me whatever you want, sweetness.”

He knew that must be a fake name, but it didn’t matter too much at this point. Josh introduced himself in turn, and mindlessly fiddled with the straw in his drink. He hadn’t come here with the intention of leaving with someone, but he was like an insect caught in a trap. Colt just had to flash a smile and Josh was putty in his hands. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Colt grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

~

This was a risk that Josh typically would not have taken. The pair ended up at his house; he knew better than to bring strangers there, but it was too late to change his mind now. He put on a record and offered his newfound companion a drink.

“Thank you, darlin’, but I think we both got something else in mind.”

Josh smiled at the implication, a mischievous glint in his eye. He allowed himself to be drawn in by the taller man, melting under his touch as their lips met. It wasn’t soft or romantic, but hungry and desperate. And it was just what Josh was craving. He practically clawed at Colt, removing pieces of clothing as he reached them. He whined when Colt pulled away and grabbed Josh’s hands to still them.

“Relax, there’s no rush. I promise I’ll take care of you, Baby Blue.”

A thought crossed Josh’s mind and he faltered. “Hey, uh… we should…” Colt waited patiently for the curly-headed man to find his words. He was nothing if not a gentleman. “I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“Is that all?” Colt smiled sweetly and pulled him in for another kiss. “This can be whatever you need it to be. I’m all yours tonight, to use, to lie to. I don’t mind either way. I ain’t really the hurtin’ kind.”

Josh searched the other man’s eyes for something… he didn’t really know what he was looking for. Maybe a sign that this was a mistake, a warning to turn back while he still could. But he found none. And if this did turn out to be a bad idea, he would deal with the consequences later. Right now, though, he needed this. He didn’t speak as he grabbed Colt’s hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom, where they fell into a heated clash of lips and skin, fingernails scratching expanses of flesh as the rest of the world and its worries faded away.

~

When Josh awoke the next morning, he felt tranquil. He was warm and relaxed, like he’d just gotten the most restful sleep of his life. Memories of the night came flowing back and he realized he was alone, with no sign anyone had ever been there. If it wasn’t for the soreness in his body, a satisfying ache reminiscent of the evening’s activities, he would have thought it was all just a dream. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed to find Colt already gone, but he wasn’t surprised. He never really expected him to stick around, and Josh never asked him to.

Still, the sense of peace that seemed to surround him was euphoric. He was almost afraid it would slip away. It was like a high, the best he’s ever experienced, and it did stick with him long enough for things to get back to normal. Josh fell easily back into his routines, the glumness that had been following him nothing more than a wisp. His patience had returned, along with his determination and love for the music they had worked so hard to create. The band was able to find their footing again and pushed out some gorgeous new songs they were all proud of.

After a while, though, Josh got wild hair. He wanted another fix.

He found himself back at the place where it all started. He sat at the same table in the low light, a drink in hand. Except this time, he knew what he was looking for. He scanned the room for the familiar figure, hoping he’d catch those pretty blue eyes again.

He wasn’t sure how long he waited before he resigned, dismayed that his search yielded no results. But he was never one to give up that easily. On the third night of searching of waiting, the doorman stopped him on his way out.

“You’re lookin’ for him, ain’t ya? Colt.”

Josh stared at the man, unsure if he should answer the question. He didn’t want to seem like some creep, stalking a guy he’d spent one night with. He also didn’t want to out himself or spill anything about Colt to someone he didn’t know. One can never be too careful these days. He considered just walking away; he didn’t owe this guy an explanation, after all. But the doorman’s next words stopped Josh in his tracks.

“You won’t find him. No one that’s lookin’ ever does. He’s like a ghost.” He leaned closer to Josh to conceal the conversation from any eavesdroppers. “But don’t worry. He’ll find you. When you really need him, he’ll find you, Blue.”

Josh’s jaw dropped. “What? How did you-“ He was interrupted when a couple greeted the doorman upon entry. He said his ‘good evening’ to them before the bartender waved him over to help with something. He spared one more glance before walking off, leaving Josh standing there, mouth agape and so very confused.

///

@josh-iamyour-mama

TAGLIST

Let me know if you wanted to be added for all works.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 7

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You push yourself up, pausing at the dull thrum in your back. It’s better than it was but you’re still struggling. The better part of the last two days have been spent in bed. Your lack of mobility is starting to get to, eroding at your already frayed patience.

You hiss as you turn your body, hanging your legs over the edge. A click cuts off your thoughts as you brace the mattress, ready to stand.

“Don’t even fucking think of it,” Lloyd’s voice echoes around you. Those damn cameras.

You sigh and tilt your head back, “I gotta piss.”

“Wait.”

You obey, if only because the prospect of getting up offers little optimism. You hate to admit it and you won’t aloud, but he’s probably saved you from fucking yourself up worse. Lloyd enters, sporting a polo and too tight slacks in his usual style.

“Have you just been watching me lay in bed all day?”

“No, I’ve been working. I just happen to be able to multitask,” he approaches, “come on, grab on.”

He offers and arm and you stare at him dully.

“For instance, right now I’m playing prince charming all while dreaming of railing that ass,” he snorts, “hurry up, babe, I don’t got all day to play doctor. Not when there’s no probing involved.”

You roll your eyes and grab onto him. He helps haul you up and you lean on him more than you mean to. He angles you around and directs you to the attached bathroom.

“You know, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for us. Not for a while anyway. You know, maybe in a few decades but–”

“Would you stop? I get it, alright? Trust me, I’m all too aware of how helpless I am–” You puff out as he pulls up your nightshirt and sits you down on the seat, so humiliating.

“Right, you don’t need to stay for the show,” you wave him off.

“Ah, you know, I never thought about waterworks but I might change my mind,” he winks.

“Ew.”

He chortles and leaves you, closing the door gently behind him. You let out your bladder and go about the usual routine. You take a breath and stare across the room. You can do this.

You stand and flush. You wobble and support yourself against the counter, moving to the sink to wash your hands. The door opens and you look over as you rinse off.

“Really?”

“I’m fine, Lloyd, I can make it two steps–”

“You’re pushing yourself–”

“And you care so much.”

“I kinda have to. You got a baby on board and… my dick’s ready to explode.”

“Right,” you tut and turn off the faucet, drying off with the hand towel. “You really are a smooth talker, you know that, right?”

“Hey, I could fuck up your back more but I’m tryna be a decent husband,” he shows his palms, “that’s gotta count for something.”

“Husband,” you scowl, “uh huh, well you’ll have to settle for caretaker right now.”

You stretch out your arm expectantly and he exhales deeply before crossing to you. He helps you out of the bathroom and back to the bed. The thought of the scene is almost comical. Maybe he’ll realise how pathetic you truly are and call off the equally ridiculous wedding.

He lowers you onto the mattress and you grit your teeth. You hate this. All of it.

“I can’t do this,” you rip your arm away from him, “fuck off, Lloyd, I can’t–”

“Oh, suck it up, baby cakes, you done it so far,” he snarls, “now lay back and relax. I could ask a lot more of you, we both know that.”

“Jesus, don’t you understand? I’m only going to get bigger and what do you think then? When I can’t even tie my own shoes?”

“Perfect opportunity,” he smirks, “I’ll give the kitty a kiss while I’m down there looping bunny ears.”

You blink and slowly move back against the pillows. You wish you could knock that stupid grin off his face. If only you could.

You close your eyes and cross your arms, blowing out an unimpressed raspberry, “thanks. You can go back to your… work or whatever. There’s silence as you wait, listening for his retreat.

The bed dips and your eyes snap open as you feel his hand on your leg. He pushes your knees wide as he climbs between them. He lowers himself on his stomach and you sit forward, yowling as it sends a strike up your spine. You fall back as he settles on the mattress and trails his hands up your thighs.

“I told you to fucking relax,” he sneers as he bends his head to kiss your thighs, feeling a dimple with his thumb as he purrs, “I gotta do fucking everything.”

He nuzzles up to your cunt, pulling you down gently as he angles your pelvis. His tongue flicks down, gliding between your lips as he circles your clit cloyingly. He sucks on the bundle of nerves and wiggles his head emphatically.

You gasp and reach to grasp his hair, leaning back as you whine through your teeth. Fuck him and his stupid helpfulness. Better enjoy it while it lasts.

💎

You finally feel lighter, easier. Getting out of bed is only the usual subtle reminder of your aches but nothing so succinct to have you stumbling or whimpering. You stretch, carefully, afraid to strain anything too far.

A long shower coaxes you back to form as you press your palms to the cool porcelain and bask in the steam. You get out after nearly an hour under the stream and search out anything but the ridiculous skimpy pieces curated by the perv-in-residence. You opt for a pair of booty shorts and a belly shirt. It’ll have to do.

Your descent is filled with an internal battle of will and whims. The baby, regardless of what you want, is coming and you can only try to make its arrival bearable. So you can’t just sit around and wait, you need to start taking care of yourself. Really, not the way Lloyd claims to.

You near the gym door and stop. It’s not that you’re lazy, that you’ve been inactive, it’s just that you never were into the whole cardio or pump trend. You slowly open it and a clang makes you jump in your socks, no sneakers to be found in the rows of heels.

“Uh,” you stop short as Lloyd stands over the long weight bar, large barbells set on each end, “sorry, I–”

“What’s up, cupcake?” He breathes as he reaches for his water bottle.

You look away, “nothing, I’ll come back later–”

“Ah, don’t,” he warns as he huffs, “you wanna be workout buddies?”

“Lloyd,” you growl.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to keep up. Baby and all,” he flicks his brows up as he bends to lift unclamp the weights from the end of the bar, “easy pace on the treadmill. That’s what the literature suggests.”

“Yeah, I got it,” you say flippantly and surpass him, going to the machine. You climb up and look over the controls. “Um, if I decide to keep this up, do you think you could get me some runners or something?”

“Babe, I’m more than magic beneath the sheets, I’m your own personal genie. Say it and you shall have it.”

“Oh really? So can I just not marry you–”

“Cut it out,” he girds as he nears and reaches over the panel, “speed,” he points to the screen, “timer, power…” he hovers over it as he explains, “and a few pre programmed modes. I don’t know.” He steps back, “make sure you hold on.”

“Thanks,” you swallow, “it’s just walking, right?”

You push down on the screen and figure out the proper mode, moving your feet with the belt as it starts up. You reach for the bars and keep pace. Nothing too strenuous but you could probably do more. You feel him watching and grimace.

“Got it,” you give him a thumbs up.

“I know,” he steps back and takes a seat on the weight bench, “good to see you on your feet, doll face. Can’t wait to see you on my dick.”

His crassness assures you that all is as it will ever be. Lloyd Hansen will always be the rudest man you ever met. You stare at the screen and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, your socks giving little traction.

Still, you’re irked. The way he looms, watches, as if you’re a complete idiot. As if you can’t handle a mile or two.

“You know, I’m not lazy. I never was. I was a maid for fifteen years. I cleaned entire office buildings. Do you think I didn’t get my steps in?” You sneer.

“I never said anything about it.”

“I see how you look at me. Like everyone else. Just cause my belly hangs over just a little. Well, working out never did much but make me tired,” you scoff, “so please, I don’t need an audience.”

He sighs, “I like the cushion, baby. You got a real nice basement, I’m not shy about saying so.” He leans forward, elbows on his thighs, “but if you need a bit of extra love for the pudge, I’ll be happy to give a few more love bites before the main entree.”

You shake your head and glare at him, “do you ever think of anything but your balls?”

“Not really, the good lord put my brains behind by dick to keep ‘em extra safe,” he snickers, “just like he blessed you with the finest ass I ever had the pleasure of fucking.”

[taurusmoonchild]

Warmth of Home

Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley no TW this is just fluff <3

read here or on AO3 ____

Feburary 4th, 2007

Hermione huffed as she stepped into the cosy warmth of her family’s little cottage. It had been a long and exhausting day at the Ministry and she could still feel the weight of paperwork on her shoulders. She brushed the snow off her coat before taking it off and hanging it up. Stepping out of her uncomfortable boots into her comfortable house slippers. It was late and the house was dark. As she walked through the hallway she spotted a dim light coming from their living room. She approached it slowly, careful not to make too much noise and peeked through the slightly ajar door.

Inside, on the sofa, sat Ron, his lanky frame folded up to accommodate their daughter, Rose. She looked so small next to him, her tiny hands clutching Ron’s shirt and her breathing slow and soft. She was fast asleep, but that didn’t stop Ron from reading aloud from a brightly illustrated storybook on his lap. 

Hermione watched and listened as his voice took on different accents and tones for each of the characters in the book. She smiled and her heart swelled with love for her two favourite people in the world. 

Not wanting to disturb the precious scene before her, she quietly approached the sofa. Ron glanced up, a wide grin on his face as he saw her.

“You’re home,” he whispered, careful not to disturb the tiny human that lay against him.

Hermione nodded, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s aight, we are busy reading anyway,” he put the book down, “or well, were busy reading until a certain someone fell asleep.” Ron brushed a lock out of Rose’s face and smiled at her, “How can someone be so perfect?” He asked no one in particular.

Hermione couldn't help but smile even more than before.

Ron turned his attention back to Hermione as she sat down next to him and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips "How was your day?"

"Long," Hermione sighed, “too long.” She wrapped an arm around Ron and leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling the tension of the day melt away. "But seeing you two like this makes it all worth it."

“I’m glad,” Ron whispered into her hair as he pressed another kiss to her head.

Together, the three of them sat in comfortable silence, the only noise being the soft snores of their daughter. 

December 28th, 2021

Hermione hated working between Christmas and the New Year, but being the Minister of Magic meant she had no choice. The cold air stung her face as she hurried down the street to get home. As she stepped through the front door of their home, the weariness of the day began to weigh heavily upon her shoulders. However, the sight that greeted her in the living room instantly melted away her exhaustion.

There, on the large, comfortable sofa, lay her husband Ron. Their daughter Rose had her head lying on his lap and Hugo was sprawled across the other side of the sofa next to Rose, his feet just inches away from her head. Together they were a tangled heap of limbs and blankets. Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene. It was rare that her two children got along and she knew once Rose woke up Hugo would get hexed for putting his feet too close to her face.

The voices of the Christmas movie playing on the telly were the only noise filling the room. Hermione tiptoed closer, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of her family, and sat down on the edge, her eyes lingering on each of their peaceful faces. Ron stirred slightly at her presence, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before he smiled sleepily at Hermione.

"Hey there, love," he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

"Hey," Hermione whispered back, brushing a gentle kiss against his forehead. "How long have you guys been like this?"

Ron shrugged, his gaze drifting fondly to their children. "Not sure. I’m guessing I was the first to doze off"

Hermione chuckled softly, “Nothing new then?”

“Rude,” he grinned.

Hermione shifted closer to her husband and reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Rose’s ear. Her heart swelled with gratitude and pride for the beautiful family she and Ron had created.

“They are growing up too quickly,” she sighs.

Ron chuckles as he leans his head against Hermione, “I think they’re growing up just fine,” he whispers.

Hermione opens her mouth to retort but decides against it as her eyes fall on her husband who already had his eyes closed again. She leans into the back of the sofa and watches as Ron slides down her side, now halfway lying against her side and halfway across her lap. She shakes her head but smiles running her hands through his locks.

As she sat there in silence trying to grasp the plot of the film playing in front of her she could only think about how lucky she was. At that moment, Hermione knew that no matter how hectic life and her job could be, as long as she had Ron and their children by her side, she had everything she needed to find peace and happiness.

[jeanie-g]

Oh yes, teacher AU please 😏

I mean how can I not 🤷🏼‍♀️

HAHA we were just talking about this so ofc! i started writing it months ago, but lately i've revisited it to flesh out the story a lil bit.

let me set the scene: jack is a 7th grade english teacher working on his first Big Project (either a novel or a play - i'm between the two rn, but i'm leaning towards play) that he's....kinda stuck on. he doesn't love being a teacher either, just sees it as a temporary job til he gets published (can u see the incoming character arc? lol)

so, he's a bit lost. he's got his best friend trevor (who teaches 8th grade science), and he's got his brother/roommate luke (who pays the majority of the rent w his swanky ahl contract), but that's it.

until he meets nico at the bar one night, who's new in town (and also hot and mysterious). and wow! jack finally has a life outside of school....a way to separate his work/home life and a chance at love!

until he shows up on monday and sees that nico is the newest gym teacher lol. cue hilarity and nico trying to seduce jack in the broom closet. jack has to reassess the way he separates his personal and work life and how they intersect - and fall in love in the process ofc.

it's very much a rom-com but i wanna explore jack's identity as a writer and teacher, and give him some room to figure himself out :) i just finished Writers & Lovers by Lily King (highly recommend!!!), which is major inspo for this new direction.

here's a (slightly ~spicy~) snippet:

***

Jack clicks his tongue. “I don’t wanna talk about work. It’s…exhausting sometimes.”

“Hence the bar?”

“Pretty much.” He regards Nico, just sitting there—the hottest man in this whole place—and plays with the straw in his glass. “But I’m feeling better now.” It’s cheesy, he knows, but Nico flushes anyway. Jack is really liking how easy this man is to read.

“And why is that?”

And Jack can’t help himself. He lowers his voice. “Well, I’m hoping the handsome European in front of me is going to ask me to go home with him.”

Jack expects Nico to be surprised at his forwardness, but he just grins like the cat who got the cream. “A little presumptuous, hm?” he asks, goading—devilish.

Jack smiles, darting his tongue out to lick the lime juice off his lips. “Am I out of line? I’d hate to assume…”

Nico takes a calculated sip. He leans in close. “Jack, I’ve wanted to ask you that as soon as I laid eyes on you.”

Jack shivers just the tiniest bit. It's the air conditioning, surely. “Yeah?”

Nico eyes him. His lips shine. “Yeah.”

They finish their drinks quickly after that.

“I should probably warn you,” Nico says in their Uber to his apartment just a few blocks up. They would’ve walked if they had any kind of patience. “My place isn’t very furnished.”

Jack’s hand is tracing patterns on Nico’s quad—this man has to work out. He wonders what he does for work. Construction, maybe? He never did mention, but then again, neither did Jack.

“Do you have a bed?” he asks. His hand crawls towards Nico’s inner thigh and he hears a sharp intake of breath.

“Yes.”

“Sounds suitably furnished to me.”

They’re on each other as soon as Nico’s front door closes, greedy hands finding purchase on any pull of fabric or strip of skin they can find. Nico’s mouth finds Jack’s in the dark, meeting him in a blazing kiss that makes Jack’s hairs stand on end and fireworks light behind his eyelids. Nico’s like a magnet—or a planet, pulling Jack in to orbit around him. Jack surrenders to it easily, and he doesn’t give himself time to even worry he’s being too needy about it.

It takes them a while to get through the small apartment, pushing each other up against walls or furniture to make out some more, Nico getting distracted by Jack’s wandering hands and Jack getting distracted by Nico mouthing marks that will definitely bruise along his jaw. Thank God it isn’t a school night; his students would have a field day with that one.

Blissful, adrenaline-fueled minutes elapse over Jack, and he doesn’t even register they’ve gotten to Nico’s bedroom until the backs of his knees bump against his bed and he goes tumbling backwards with a surprised yelp. Nico tumbles with him, shifting his weight so he doesn't crush him. He’s chuckling into Jack’s neck, and the sound vibrates through his head, swimming alongside the subtle buzz from the gimlets and Jack’s own desire, burning like an uncovered flame with an endless supply of oxygen.

Nico leans back, his hair thoroughly mussed from Jack’s fingers raking through it. A sliver of moonlight from the window illuminates his beautiful face.

“What do you want, Jack?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. He sounds like he’d do absolutely anything Jack would ask him to.

The moment feels tight with anticipation, a Schrödinger’s cat of possibility. Jack leans up and kisses Nico sweetly, and drops his head back on the pillow.

***

and that's where i have to stop before it gets actually nsfw lmaooo

i'm so pumped to keep writing this. thanks for the ask <3333

[malice-mercy-miracle]

I normally stay out of interpersonal fandom drama because it's exhausting, pointless, and I'm too old for that shit. But I've been in online fandom spaces to varying degrees for about 20 years, and my short stint with the Bad Omens Tumblr fandom thus far is, without question, the most toxically selfish and immature community I have every stepped foot in. And I was in the A:TLA ship wars.

I'm going to try to keep this very simple.

Don't like; don't read. I truly cannot fathom the fact that this aspect of fandom etiquette has fallen by the wayside. If you don't like fic/art/ships/tropes or whatever else, just don't look at it. It's that simple.

You are responsible for your own triggers. Now this comes with a heavy caveat, in that anyone writing dark/traumatic content should tag it as such. But ultimately each individual is responsible for their own mental health. If a fiction has dark content and has appropriate warnings, just don't read it and you won't be triggered. If a fic has dark content and it's not tagged, politely ask the author to use appropriate warnings. And if they refuse? BLOCK THEM. Because 1) that's bad etiquette on their part, and 2) blocking someone who typically posts triggering content is a great way to not deal with triggering content!

Writing about illegal things is not illegal. I can't believe I have to say this. Depiction of illegal, taboo, or harmful things in media is allowed. The only context in which it should reasonably be constrained is when the target demographic is likely to try to replicate it - AKA children's media. I'm pretty sure no one here is an eight year old?

People can have any variety of reasons to read or write taboo, traumatic, or illegal content into their fics. It's not your business why they do it. Genuinely. You are not entitled to that information. Nobody owes you justification.

Harassment IS illegal. Sending people repeated hate messages, threats, comments on their children or personal lives, etc. could all be construed as harassment and is actually fucking illegal. You do not respond to someone portraying something taboo, triggering, or "but that's illegal!" in a work of fiction by harassing them until they leave the fandom space because they feel unsafe. Given that these behaviors are typically happening on anon, I'm pretty sure you know this.

I'm coming at this as someone who is not only in fandom spaces, but also reading, writing, and reviewing outside of fandom. I have read books that contain wildly problematic content, but there's still a time and place for how I respond to that. I don't send authors anonymous hate mail because their book had a gratuitous SA scene for cheap drama; I write a professional review calling it out, explaining why it's an issue in terms of how it's framed and in context with the genre and target demographic, and I do what I can to make sure there's content warnings available for future readers.

Now you might be thinking, "This is Tumblr. We don't have any professional review spaces here."

You'd be right.

Because this is fandom. We're talking about fanfic. Something people write for shits and giggles as a hobby. For free. Chill the fuck out.

Anyway, that's my piece. Any and all vitriol or I Have Zero Reading Comprehension responses to this will be blocked/reported as needed. ✌️

Edit: Also wanted to add really quick: YOU CAN STILL BLOCK AND REPORT PEOPLE ON ANON. Here's a guide.

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

@febuwhump Day 11: Fever

You can now find my contributions to FebuWhump on Ao3!

Sherlock couldn’t remember the sofa in the living room being so uncomfortable. Half-awake, he tried to shift to find a position that would ease the dull ache in his bones and found lifting his arms was oddly exhausting. What had happened? He blinked and opened his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again when light seemed to pierce right into his brain. Sherlock groaned faintly, instantly whishing to fall asleep again.

God, he must have been poisoned. It was the only possible explanation.

“You awake?”

John. That was good. He probably wouldn’t let Sherlock die.

He made another try at opening his eyes. Something wasn’t quite right about the living room. Dark spots were dancing in front of his eyes and somehow the colours seemed to contribute to his headache. Sherlock dimly remembered that wasn’t normally the case. To top it all off, it was deathly cold in the room. He sniffled and hoped John would do something against this dreadful situation soon.

“Good morning, Sherlock.”

Sherlock groaned at John’s choice of words – there was nothing good about this morning. Couldn’t John see that Sherlock was dying? Sherlock lifted his eyes and sought his friend’s face in a wordless plea to put him out of his misery. His throat was prickling and his head was throbbing and John seemed to be generally unfazed. It was cruel.

Well, not time to wallow in self-pity. He had to find out who was responsible for this. “What happened?” Something about his voice was off. His throat was parched. Sherlock tried to swallow and discovered it was quite a painful endeavour.

“You tell me.” John sighed, apparently not pleased with Sherlock for some reason. “All I can tell is that you apparently came home in the dead of night, threw your drenched clothes on the floor and passed out on the sofa in your dressing gown.”

“Oh. Yes.” Sherlock smiled a bit when the memories came back to him. “I found the killer. Former Olympic swimmer. He got away at first when he jumped into the Thames.” He furrowed his brow. “I hunted him down a few hours later at the flat of his secret lover. He made a terrible scene.” Sherlock grinned smugly, surprised when a second later his triumph was interrupted by a series of violent sneezes.

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be the only one who took a swim yesterday,” John concluded, looking down at Sherlock with mild worry. “We will have to take your temperature. You look terrible if I’m allowed to say so.”

“You’re not”, Sherlock said indignantly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest in the effort to suppress a shiver. It didn’t really work. John noticed, of course.

„Well, maybe try not jumping into the Thames and running around dripping wet for hours next time,” he chided. “Really, don’t you have any sense of self-preservation when I’m not with you? Wasn’t Lestrade there to get some common sense into your head?”

Sherlock considered sitting up to present a worthier opponent in this discussion but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Was it always so exhausting to argue with John?  He closed his eyes again. “I have lots of common sense,” he croaked. His throat hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt. This was hateful.

“I doubt it,” John retorted. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John,” Sherlock mumbled. Pneumonia. Of course he wouldn’t catch pneumonia. He didn’t have time for things like this …

He must have dozed off because next thing he knew there was a cool hand on his forehead and something touching his lips. “Come on, Sherlock,” he heard John say, “try to collaborate a bit. I’m trying to help you here.”

Sherlock wasn’t sure if he could be helped or if he would just silently waste away on the sofa but he opened his lips anyway and allowed John to shove a thermometer into his mouth. The truth was that he was too exhausted to put up resistance, but there was no way he would admit that in front of John.

He made the effort to open his eyes again. John was watching him closely.

“You’re definitely running a fever,” he remarked. “Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

That at least was an easy question. Sherlock nodded, choosing to respond nonverbally in order not to move the thermometer too much, and to spare his vocal cords. His throat really was sore. There was a possibility that John was right and he really had a fever.

“I will go and get your blanket. Although maybe you should consider relocating to your bed entirely.”

“Later,” Sherlock mumbled. There was no way he was getting up. He wasn’t moving. Nope.

“It’s got you pretty badly, hm?” John said compassionately.

Sherlock intended to say something scathing and eloquent to throw John off the scent, but instead he was overcome by a sudden coughing fit which wasn’t good at all for his throat and his head. “Ughh,” he said instead, “Jooohn …” Was there nothing he could do? Wasn’t he supposed to be a doctor? This needed to stop. It was unacceptable.

“Alright, alright.” John withdrew the thermometer Sherlock had all but spit out in his effort to draw breath. “Yep, almost 39, you will be staying home for a few days. I will get you your blanket and something to drink and a paracetamol, and you will rest and not even dream of running off for another case until you feel better. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied weakly. What exactly gave John the idea he was about to run off? It was embarrassing, but he didn’t suppose he would get far.

“Alright.” For a second, there was a hand in his hair, smoothing back the curls that stuck to his forehead, and then John was off to get the promised supplies and Sherlock could already feel himself drifting off into sleep.

[maraudersaffair]

10 Lines Tagging Game

Thank you for the tag, @yletylyf <3

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Harry stirred from unconsciousness. At first, confusion was the only thing that registered. Last he remembered, he was sitting down at his kitchen table to eat a microwaved dinner. Alone. A quick break before he would have to be on duty for New Year's Eve. Had he fainted at his table? Voyager, Healer, Survivor written by @yletylyf and me. (Harry/Severus/Voldemort) It's been so much fun writing this fic with another person <3

Hermione Granger came out on a dreary Tuesday. It was a work night, and she was at the pub with her two best friends, Harry and Ron. She had broken up with Ron less than two months before. Shackled. (Hermione/Bellatrix) So excited for this one! The smut is going to be fire :D

The Lestrange Estate was a damp, shadowy place. Lily felt like a rat scurrying from room to room. She still didn’t know why she had been spared. Dark Hunger. (Lily/Severus) A strange sexy fic. I have a lot of plans for it ... I just need to ignore the shippers. Lily loves both James and Severus in this idk what to tell ya lol

Harry was exhausted. He was in the last stretch of a three hour meeting, and all he wanted to do was go home to his fiance. It still gave him a thrill to think about it. Severus was his fiance. They were engaged to be married. In Love with Severus. Sequel to Snowed in with Severus. (Harry/Severus) I need to stop daydreaming about the smut scenes in this and actually get them down on paper (or a google doc lol)

Hermione couldn’t sleep on the nights she knew Harry had a raid. He was an Auror now, a competent one, but she still worried about him. Sometimes it felt as if she had spent her entire life worrying about him. A Darkness so Tender. (Hermione/Harry) I write this when I want some good friends to lovers. All the pining <3

Hermione was in bed when she heard the crash. For a moment, she thought she had dreamed the disturbance. It was merely a nightmare, an echo of the past. Hold Me Now in Hand. (Hermione/Severus) Probably the dirtiest het smut I've written. Love love it. Written from May 2022 - January 2023. Complete.

The first time Draco saw Harry Potter after the war, he was in Mint and Magic, just trying to get himself a cup of tea and a gooey Chelsea bun. He was working in Flourish and Blotts of all places and he was on his lunch break. He was making do. He was happy, he supposed. What he wanted most in life was not money or affluence, but love. Big Love. Written for @ladderofyears. (Harry/Draco) It was wonderful to write this for a friend! Complete.

Draco had dreaded his first encounter with Ginny Weasley after his marriage to Harry. He didn’t hate her, oh no, but he was jealous of her. She was Harry’s first love after all, and his eyes still sparkled when he spoke of her. Claim Me on a Bed of Snow. (Harry/Draco) Love this! The jealousy/smut in this is so good. It's very fluffy too. Complete.

The snow fell heavily in London. Harry was on his way home in a red double-decker bus after doing a bit of last minute Christmas shopping. Harry liked riding the bus with Muggles. Outside his window was a sheet of whiteness. It was calming. Somewhere in My Memory. (Harry/Draco) This fic was a smashing hit and I know why. I still can't stop thinking about some of the scenes in it. Complete.

Draco was released from Azkaban on the first of October. He had spent two years in a damp, mouldy cell. They had done away with the Dementors but the leaks in the ceiling had been allowed to stay. Release. (Harry/Draco) Probably the best smut I've ever written? Character development + sizzling free use. Just fantastic. Complete.

Let's tag ... @ladderofyears @veelawings @hey-flynn @tenthousandyearsx @soloorganaas @givereadersahug @the-francakes @lqtraintracks @thistlecatfics @teacup-tai @bellairestrella

[recurring-polynya]

*CLAPPING AND CHEERING WHENEVER I SEE BYAKUYA'S SQUAD 6 MEMOS AGAIN* Honestly an early favourite when I was getting into Bleach. Anyways for the deleted scene stuff my vote is for Hold On, Hold On. Academy squad...

I hope someone from Squad Six saves every memo Byakuya ever writes, like, in a binder somewhere. For posterity.

Ahem! So, in the first draft of Hold On, Hold On, when Renji hit the depression stage, Kira convinced him to stay in bed. I didn't like it though, and I eventually decided that a) it was too sappy and b) it was out-of-character for Renji to allow himself that level of self-indulgence, and I rewrote it. I absolutely stand by the final version as superior. Regardless, there are certainly some charming bits in this version, so here it is. This is actually, like, 3 deleted scenes, but they go together so you can have them all. (If the first few paragraphs are familiar, it's because they're the same as in the final story, but I wanted to keep the lead-in)

🛏️ 📖 🌧️

Renji relentlessly fills binders for two days. It’s actually kind of fun for Izuru to be able to supply information on various protocols and etiquette. For once, Renji is actually interested in things he knows about. But Izuru hopes this doesn’t turn out to be permanent. There’s a certain anxious mania to School Supply Renji that he finds exhausting. This may also be due to the fact that School Supply Renji doesn’t sleep any better than Denial Renji or Angry Renji.

But Saturday morning, things have changed once again. 

The day dawns bright and beautiful and Izuru hopes maybe they can spar outside or walk down into the city proper, instead of cutting articles out of magazines in the library again. 

Renji is lying in bed with his blanket over his face and his feet sticking out the bottom.

Izuru hopes against hope that he’s asleep. “Hey, Abarai?” he whispers.

A muffled “yuh?” emerges from the blanket.

“You ready to go down to breakfast?”

Izuru has lived with Renji for nine months now. Renji has never once not been ready for breakfast.

There is a long pause. “I don’t feel like it.”

A dark, familiar feeling knots in Izuru’s stomach. He tries not to jump to conclusions. Maybe Abarai has made himself sick with his mania and poor sleep. “You don’t feel like eating or you don’t feel like getting out of bed?”

Another pause. “Neither, really.” Renji sticks the tip of his nose out from under the blanket. “I'm never going to see her again, am I?"

No, it was his first suspicion after all. Izuru knows how to deal with this. It hurts his heart, both because he’s embarrassed by how familiar these feelings are, and also because Renji is strong and cheerful and spits in the face of life’s adversities, and depression is not for him, it’s for people like Izuru. But that’s how it is in this bitch of an afterlife, so Izuru’s going to Do Friendship and help Renji get through this. 

Izuru keeps his voice very calm and reasonable. "I think you will see her again. It won't be the same, and it might not be for a while, but I am sure you will see her again, especially if you work at it the way I know you're going to."

"It seems like so much work. It seems impossible."

"You just have to take it one step at a time. The first step is doing well at school, and you'll have that covered if you stop yelling at teachers and trying to show off in kidou. And it's Saturday, so if you want to just stay in bed for a while, you can. You don't need to work on it every minute of every day."

"I feel like I'm too sad to get up. I hate this. Why am I like this?"

Izuru pulls his desk chair over next to Renji's bed and sits down. "A sad thing is happening to you right now. You haven't really just let yourself be sad about it. It's okay to do that." 

"I'm being ridiculous. I would never do this back home." 

Izuru has never once heard Renji refer to Inuzuri as "home" before.

"Yeah, well, you're not there anymore, so go ahead and be ridiculous. I've spent a few days in bed myself because I was sad, sometimes it's what you need."

More of Renji's face pokes out from under the blanket. "Really?"

Izuru regards him very seriously. "Yes. And some of it was for good reason, like when my parents died, and sometimes it was for no reason. There are some people who just get sad sometimes and I'm one of them. And since I am the voice of experience here, this is what we're going to do today: You do what you want. If you want to stay in bed, stay in bed. If you want to go outside, go outside. At some point, I'll make you eat something, but it doesn't have to be right now. If there is anything you think will make you feel better, go for it. If there's anything I can do to make you feel better, say the word. You want to tell Rukia stories, I'll listen. You want me to go get you some food, just tell me what you want. You wanna borrow my blanket so you can make yourself a big blanket nest, it's yours. If you'd rather have Momo or Hisagi or someone else, I'll go get them for you. If you want to be alone, that's okay, but I will check on you from time to time. Deal?"

Renji nods. "Hey, Izuru?"

"Yeah?"

"I can really borrow your blanket?"

Izuru snorts, and goes to get it. He tosses it over Renji's feet, and then, realizing that his is much softer than Renji's own, reorganizes so the nicer one is on the bottom. "That one was easy."

"Once, in Rukongai, I got sick with a fever and I got the chills real bad. Everyone put their blanket on me and…" he trails off.

Izuru pats the mass of blankets. "I told you. Anything."

---

In a twist that surprises no one, Renji is bad at being depressed. The problem is that he is bored, but he still doesn't feel like doing anything.

"Do you want to get out of the room?"

"No, I want to stay here."

"Do you want to lift your weights?"

"No, I don't want to move."

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

"I don't even want to think about anything. That's the problem, actually. I keep thinking things I don't want to think about."

"You want to read a book?"

Renji wrinkles his nose. He's got blankets wrapped around his head, and if he weren't so sad, he would look really adorable. "Like homework?"

"No, like, for fun. I read a lot when I get depressed, it helps distract my mind."

Renji still looks perplexed. "But what do you read that's fun? I guess our history book is kinda interesting."

It dawns on Izuru suddenly. Renji has mentioned before that paper is rare out in Inuzuri, and that his schoolbooks are the first books he's ever owned. Every time Izuru thinks he has a handle on the awful dump Renji grew up in, he learns some new horrible detail, large or small that makes things seem even worse. "I've heard you tell stories before, " Izuru says slowly. "Not stories about yourself, but about made-up people or events? Stories you tell over and over?" He'd always found this performative storytelling sort of odd, but Renji seemed to enjoy it. He recalls Rukia telling stories once or twice, as well. She had seemed like an entirely different person.

"Yeah, sure," Renji agrees. "Like you would tell at a campfire, or when you're snowed in." 

"We have books like that, here in civilization."

Renji looks confused. "But wouldn't the story just be the same every time?"

Izuru shrugs. "That is a limit of the medium, I suppose." He doesn't keep too many novels at school, but he does have a few. He immediately rejects all that have even the vaguest romantic subplot. Here's one that's almost entirely descriptions of the protagonist hacking his way through the War Beneath the Earth, described in loving detail. Izuru can't even remember if it has any female characters. He can remember that Momo hates it. "Here. Give this a try."

Renji looks deeply skeptical, but he sits up, rearranging his blanket cocoon, and accepts the book.

Izuru has been working on homework, but if Renji can take a day, so can he. He picks up the novel he hasn't touched in a week, and settles on his own bed, mirroring Renji.

Just two nerds, reading in their room, on a Saturday morning. This is nice.

---

The sky has clouded over but good, and fat raindrops are smacking against the window. So much for this morning's beautiful sunshine.

Izuru is engrossed in his book when there's a sharp rap at the window. He and Renji look up simultaneously to see Momo's rain-streaked face smushed against the glass. Both boys scramble to their feet to let her in.

"What are you doing, sneaking in here in the middle of the day?" Izuru exclaims.

"It's awful out there and about to get nastier," Momo explains. "No one's going to catch me. I brought supplies." She opens up the bag she's managed to haul up her two-story climb. "First of all, Izuru told me what he gave you to read, and it's unacceptable, so I went to the library for you." She unloads a pile of books into Renji's arms. He looks stricken. "Does that mean I have to stop reading mine? Because I really like it. It might be my favorite book."

Momo gives Izuru a dirty look, then turns back to Renji. "You may do whatever makes you happy," she offers generously. "Then, when you read my books, you will appreciate them more." 

Izuru rolls his eyes.

"Next, have you been eating?"

"Stop being his mom," Izuru scolds. "And he ate the onigiri I brought him at lunchtime."

"Never had a mom," Renji ponders. "Momo can be my mom if she wants. You can be my dad, if it makes you feel better."

Their faces are both bright red. "Let's just stick with what we've got, okay?" Izuru suggests.

"Anyway, I was worried you hadn't eaten anything, so I went down to town and got you these." Momo presses a slightly greasy paper bag into his hands.  

An overwhelmed, emotional look has come into Renji's eyes. "Is it taiyaki?"

"It is taiyaki," she confirms. "Eat it or not, it won't hurt my feelings." She clears her throat. "I have one more thing for you. If you don't want it--"

"I get it, already! You two are being so nice I'm gonna puke!" 

Momo pulls a lumpy grey mass from her bag and thrusts it at Renji.

Very slowly, almost reverently, he puts his taiyaki bag down on his desk and accepts it.

Izuru doesn't get it. It looks like a standard issue dorm blanket, just like the one Renji uses. 

Renji's fingers tighten in the scratchy wool. "How did you…?"

"It technically belongs with the room although I hear people make off with them all the time. I asked her roommate if I could swap it out with mine. I use one from home, so--"

Oh. Oh.

Renji cuts off her babbling with a rib-snapping hug. "Thank you, Momo," he whispers, his voice thick.

[goblinselfshippr]

hi friends, I just need to vent but have nowhere to do it without causing problems

anyways

This week has really kicked my ass, If I'm not overstimulated and overwhelmed, I'm sinking in a deep hole of my own isolation and loneliness. It's like the universe loves hurting me.

I'm just exhausted of taking care of both my parents and my grandparents, and getting nothing in return. I don't even want something from them necessarily (work in exchange for food and board is pretty sweet), I just want to be happy in exchange for all the work I do. Instead I'm exhausted all the time, and everyone decides to go off on their bullshit around the same time.

And i feel hypocritical because i do want to talk to my mom and my friends on the phone... but not all at once and while I have to do the bulk of their emotional labor. Today I literally had three people on the phone with me at once (had to put them each on hold) and six other people messaging me. Four of which don't even regularly talk to me! And I'm still emotionally recovering from this stupid family reunion on top of still having no idea why I'm in so much more pain than usual. But no one cares or attempts to alleviate it. Like I get that I live almost a 6hr drive from most of my friends, but I'd settle for renting a cheap movie and being on the phone together every once in a while. Or play a game together. But they're all always preoccupied with their romantic partners (side note: WHY AREN'T THEIR PARTNERS HELPING WITH THEIR LABOR??WHY WOULD YOU DATE SOMEONE THAT WONT HELP YOU??) And they'll just dip out of the movie without telling me until I say something like "omg that scene was weird!!" And they're like "teehee me n my wife wanted to go to bed" and I feel so betrayed and hurt because you could have told me! Or we could have watched the movie earlier. I'm so tired of being pushed aside for everyone's romantic partner and then having to do damage control for them when they break up. Meanwhile i haven't dated in literal years and I'm not even sure if I want to. But do they wsnt to talk about that with me? No. Not ever. Does anyone want to go out of their way to hang out with me when they know I'm isolated in my house with my family that drives me insane? No. I hate it all, and I'm legally not able to drive with my vision impairment so I can't even leave. And I'm so exhausted I dont even want to talk to anyone, I just want to lay quietly in a dark room. This week has been utter hell.

[lis-likes-fics]

I posted 6,228 times in 2022

That's 1,792 more posts than 2021!

316 posts created (5%)

5,912 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@worstloki

@luminous-faerie

@loki-hargreeves

@beksib

@funnytwittertweets

I tagged 599 of my posts in 2022

#fanfic - 191 posts

#fanfiction - 190 posts

#reader insert - 145 posts

#female reader - 144 posts

#twilight - 89 posts

#twilight fanfiction - 88 posts

#the twilight saga - 88 posts

#jasper hale x you - 82 posts

#jasper hale x y/n - 82 posts

#jasper hale x reader - 82 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and then people wanna say that he's evil and obviously doing all of this for his own personal gain when he shows up in an end credit scene

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

None of Your Business

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Warnings: Angst, abusive father (for real, not great), violence, enemies to lovers, slow burn, language, smoking, mentions of alcohol, degradation ig, Eddie being Eddie (maybe a bit meaner)... A/N: Took me three days to write it and it’s 18.7k words (i am so proud of myself rn), so if this flops, I will be ugly crying for the next three months to compensate for it. Anyway, thank you and enjoy.

"Okay, class."

The instructor walks along the table, setting rubrics on the desks of people in the room. Some pay attention to her, others simply ignore her presence as they continue talking to their friends.

"I need you to pick your partners for this out of class project due in two weeks." She turns back to her desk. "One partner," she emphasizes. "Not two, not three. Just one. I'm looking at you Mr. Tenley. Please and thank you."

Eddie doesn't move from his seat as chairs and desk scrape against cold linoleum floors. He's still at his desk, tossing a paper ball in the air as he sticks his tongue out over his lips.

By the time he gets up to find a partner, he finds that everyone's already paired as he looks around himself. He gives Jeff and Gareth a pointed look as their hands clap in a high-five. They see him, tired looks and annoyed sighs as he shakes his head at them. He plops back down in his seat. The class has an equal number of people, so there has to be one person left without a partner.

"Raise your hand if you need a partner."

Eddie's hand lifts and so does one other person's. As he sees them, takes in their identity, his eyes wide and he curses under his breath.

The teacher sees it, too. "Ah, Jesus," she huffs to herself. "Congratulations," she sighs, "You're partners." There's no joy in her voice as she says it. She's more exhausted than anything else.

"What?!"

Eddie's head whips around when your voice joins with his in a cry of absolute frustration. You glare at him and turn back to the teacher.

"There are two others absent. Can't we just pick them?" You try to reason, but she's too tired and too annoyed to listen.

"No," she shakes her head. "They will be partners when they return."

Eddie scoffs, "But–"

"I don't want to hear it," she cuts him off. She points a finger at the both of you, "You're partners and that's that."

You turn your head back to Eddie and scoff, flaming eyes glaring into his own. He's seething, you're seething, and the teacher can only roll her eyes and curse under her breath as she watches the both of you openly hate each other. It would be entertaining if it weren't so damn annoying.

~

You pull into the trailer park with the roll of your eyes. You see Eddie's trailer and huff as you get out of your crappy car. You look up at it, staring as you shake your head and work yourself up to walking forward. You readjust your jacket over your work clothes, an oversized white jacket stained with a faint tint of dark red paint.

You walk up to the trailer, and shake your head at yourself once again. You knock on the door and it swings open on the second rap of your knuckles against it. Eddie looks you up and down, face fallen as his eyes stare down at you. There’s no “hi” or “what do you want?” He skips any small talk.

“Remind me again why we couldn’t just meet at your place?” he wonders, raising a brow.

“Not an option. You hiding something from me?”

“No, I just don’t want your stench around my house. I’ll be cleaning for days just to get it out.”

You roll your eyes and shove past him, “Move over.” Your shoulders bump into each other aggressively, and he moves his body to the side lazily. The door closes behind him while you walk into the trailer, looking around the walls with furrowed brows and an upturned nose.

Eddie walks forward behind you as you drop your bag beside the table in the living room. His hand is held up at his side, a movement that’s far too flourish-y for his own good. You hum and he scowls. “What?”

You signal around the room. “I was expecting the walls to be crawling with bugs, but…” you turn to him with a raised brow. “Instead, I get cups and caps.” The walls were lined with baseball caps of all kinds, a type of decoration that confused you. You would never ever admit the spark of interest that came from those and the variety of coffee mugs accompanying them.

You shake your head. Eddie ran a hand through his mess of dark curls—ones that were darker than usual. Had he just washed them?

You hate that you noticed that.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, “I expected you to just ditch me, but here we are now.” You raise your brow at him. He truly has such little faith in you that he believes you would let your grades slip because of a rivalry?

He’s right. You’ve done it before. You won’t be doing it again, though, you got pulled back because of it.

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769 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

#4

Loner

Pairings: Edward Cullen x Reader Warnings: None really A/N: I’ve had this posted on Wattpad for a while, and I decided to post it now just because. This was a request that I got that I had a lot of fun writing with. I hope you enjoy it, thank you!

Edward's eyes once again wandered to the girl sitting alone in a cafeteria full of tables with open seats. Her body hunched over the surface of the table, her eyes downcast as she stared at a book she held in her lap. There was a frown on her face, though not as deep as the one she usually wore along the halls of the school.

He delved into her mind, which was a creation of the words she was reading, pictures and images of characters and their actions as she mentally played out the scene she read. His curiosity reached its peak when his own face popped into her mind, it seemed she had chosen him to take the face of a character decorated in a fond light. He assumed it to be for the same reason others usually found him and his family interesting, a pretty face for a pretty person.

As the scene of the fantasy story played out, he found himself-a character, the hero of the story-sitting alone under a tree to reflect on his thoughts. The thoughts were relatively tortured, but forced into a positive light illustrated by the story.

As she read, he found a hint of distaste in her face at the way the author had described the thoughts of the character, drenching them in optimism when the thoughts and actions they had come from clearly should have been solemn to hold a depth she knew the character held. A depth she unconsciously identified with. A quiet scoff passed through her lips, and Edward's own lips lifted in a slight smile, finding amusement in her thoughts and portrayed emotions.

Edward found his feet moving before his mind as he stood from his own table, earning the looks of his siblings, which he ignored. Even the inquiries found in their thoughts could not reach his mind as his eyes stayed focused on the girl. As he approached her table, he could hear his name reflecting off the thoughts of the students around him, curious to see what was going on with the Cullen and the loner; essentially the outcasts.

He came to stand by her table, her eyes eventually tearing from her book as she came to the realization of the presence. When her eyes found him, her mind was torn away from her book almost viciously. Edward could see the alarm bells going off in her head at the sight of him and almost snickered, ever-amused by her reaction to him.

"Hello," he said after her mind had enough calm to comprehend his words. Although it seemed she was still experiencing some shock as she took a moment to respond. Her mind, however, was not as still.

What's going on? Am I being pranked? she thought to herself. There's someone at my table- Wait, he spoke to you. Say something! She shook her head to free herself from her mind as she nodded, taking note of the person in front of her. "Edward Cullen." She berated herself for verbally identifying him. "Er- Hi..." She tried to find something else to say, her thoughts an disorganized mess as she tried to sort through the socially acceptable answer but only coming out drawing straws. "What are you doing at my table?"

As Edward listened to her mind, he could not help his curiosity at the fact that her first thought was not connected to who he was, but rather that he was someone standing in front of her. His name had only come after the fact that she was not alone anymore and that she needed to speak. He was about to leave too much silence between their responses before he finally spoke to her, "What are you doing sitting alone at your table?"

He could feel the eyes boring into his body from all angles as people all over the cafeteria stared at them. It was the polar opposite to subtle, and they all shamelessly knew it. He filtered all of their thoughts to focus on her own, her mind interesting him to no end.

Her cheeks suddenly flooded with blood, tinting a darker color as she looked around at all the attention they were receiving. He bit the inside of his cheek to focus on anything but the blood flowing through her veins that was suddenly brought to his attention. Her heart was pounding in her chest, more of what he assumed was just embarrassment flooding her. Although, upon further inspection, in her mind he could sense something else coming from the change.

"I..." she tried to come up with a response. "I always sit by myself."

Edward stifled a chuckle at her reply. The bluntness of the statement was humorous to him, although he did not know why. Her eyes continued to dart around them, complaints and anxiety screaming in her mind about all the eyes watching them. Edward turned to see some of the people watching, locking eyes with them to humiliate them into looking away. Eye contact made most people squeamish, so a simple look should suffice for most as they frantically looked away to try and find something else to console their embarrassed thoughts about being found out.

Edward's eyes returned to her, giving a gentle smile in an attempt to calm her nerves a little. "Would you like some company?" he asked, tilting his head slightly in an attempt at using his charm. It was just a test really, he wanted to see her reactions to him.

Her mind wandered back to her book, to the character with his face. She matched the smiles and there was another fond light over the thought. He looks so happy, she commented, a brief flicker of the character's tragic backstory making the simple act of the hero smiling just as beautiful.

She returned to the present when his question resurfaced and she nodded, letting out a bit of a sigh as a small grin spread over her own lips. "That would... actually be really great. Yes?"

Edward's amusement mixed into something else: genuine wonder and interest trumped his basic curiosity. He took a seat next to her, his movements slow and almost cautious as he kept some distance, but not enough to raise any flags. Her smile wavered for a moment, an unease in her thoughts again as her eyes moved back to the eyes on her. This could be a trick... What if it's a prank?

Her eyes scanned over him, returning to the cover of her book as she fingered the edges. Maybe I should've ignored him... No one ever wants to sit here... Her thoughts had a frown sinking into his lips, the turn from surprise to shock to pleasantry to anxiety almost unsettling.

He tried to shake her from those thoughts as he asked in a gentle voice, "So, again I ask, why are you sitting by yourself?"

She shrugged, thinking of an answer. "I don't have anywhere else to sit." She was quiet for a moment. "I'm a loner... always have been." There was a sadness to her tone, and in her mind she found herself once again reflecting on the character in her head. An outcast loner by his peers, a loner by force.

"Something tells me... not by choice?" he asked as he tried to make the connection.

She looked at him, her eyes almost looking as though she was trying to see into his own mind. She shook her head, "Uh... No. No, not by choice."

"So... why?" He could not find the answer in her mind, hard as he tried. She was very good at avoiding the conflict, pushing it from her thoughts to limit the amount of discomfort she felt over the past. She shrugged, "Fall out with a popular kid."

Finally, she gave away a face and an accompanying memory with said person, a relationship she held in her early years of high school. It was a wonder he had not gotten the story by now. He knew every story, except this one...

"I see..." he mumbled, although he did not see the details, just the bigger picture. He was trying so hard to understand, to piece everything together. He had missed the way she searched the room, her eyes darting around her audience as she slumped toward her book.

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking in her new thoughts. He saw it before she said it.

"People are staring," she mumbled.

Amusement returned at the prospect of the eyes of teenagers watching them. He did his best to conceal his smile, but it was all in vain as a small grin found his lips. "That bothers you?"

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793 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

#3

Bound in Dream

Pairings: Morpheus/Dream x Reader W/C: 7.7k words Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of death, mentions of sickness, sad storytelling, that’s really it. It’s a fluff-angst mix... A/N: This took longer to finish than I thought it would, but I’d blame work for that so... Here it is, enjoy!

The darkness of the night was quiet inside your home. Candlelight was the only thing illuminating the room as you gathered your herbs and set them out. They were familiar herbs, ones you grabbed once a week as a ritual, a routine, a necessity. You ground each herb together with your pestle, watching each little leaf or seed be crushed under its stone.

As if on cue, the whistling of the kettle pot heating over the stove signaled its readiness. Your thin nightgown flowed behind you as you shifted the pot and grabbed your mortar. Setting it down, you transferred it to your tea cup. You closed your eyes, your hands hovered over the cup as your finger swirled around the rim slowly, gently, a feather light touch as your magic seeped into the cup. You muttered the ancient words of your spell, whispering them into the air as you allowed your enchantment to settle.

When you opened your eyes again, the mixture of leaves and seeds was a powder. You picked up the kettle and poured the boiling water into your cup with a sigh. After a short, careless blow, you sipped at your tea and ignored the harsh burn to your tongue.

You held the cup between both your hands and blew out a breath. "Perhaps I'll sleep tonight," you whispered.

Then a strange feeling came over you. Your head began to spin and your body swayed horribly with the dizziness of whatever was suddenly taking over you. You grabbed the edge of the counter. The cup slipped through your and shattered against the tile of the floors with a harsh burn and slight stings against your bare feet.

"Here in the darkness…"

The words were a whisper in the back of your mind, a little echo of chanting. A dark feeling settled over you, hollowing your soul.

"Here in the darkness."

"What's happening?" you asked yourself, struggling to stay upright.

"Here in the darkness!"

The ground slipped from under you, and you were suddenly falling. The dark magic gripped you as you tried to grip onto whatever part of your reality that you could. You could grasp at nothing, take hold of nothing, there was nothing. You were like a bird trapped in a cage.

Your body met the floor with a harsh thud. The pain surged for only a moment before vanishing, paling in comparison to the horrors you have already endured. You could not move, numb to the feeling of your body, other than the bite of the cold floor underneath your skin. You were rendered paralyzed at the grip of dark sorcery, hazy-minded and heavy-bodied.

You could faintly hear the muttering and echoes of voices, shocked and excited. You could feel as one in particular, one that sounds like he's speaking through a filter as his muffled words command his people to move. You felt a set of hands remove your robe and leave you in your nightgown, but that was the most you could comprehend.

You were struggling to hold onto reality, too far gone from your potion and the darkness of the spell that gripped you. You slipped out of your consciousness, falling into a void of sleep that you wished never to return to.

~

You felt your toes first, wiggling unwillingly as you slowly came back to wakefulness. The tips of your fingers were next, flexing slightly as you tried to will yourself to open your eyes—but they were so heavy. You had no real desire to allow them to open again. You took in a slow, deep breath, filling your tight lungs like a balloon that wished not to inflate. You were able to clench your fist after a moment—tight, loose, then tight again as you allowed yourself to wake up.

You opened your eyes, unmoving as they darted around the room, through a barrier of glass. It took too long for you to realize you weren't alone. You turned your gaze without moving your head, and your eyes landed on a pale-skinned man across from you, bare and limp and beautiful as his face buried in the crook of his arm. He emanated a power you had never felt before, a power that reached inside of you and demanded submission. He was strong and compelling.

But just as vulnerable as you.

It's then you realized your own body, not as bare as him, but nowhere near decency. You ignored it, it was not of importance at that moment.

You were both trapped, imprisoned in this sphere, in this dome of glass as you lay unwilling to move.

A moment of silence and paralysis passed before you heard the squeak of a door. Your eyes looked but you did not move. A muffled command became a clear voice as a man approached the glass. He was mature, tall and blond and as greedy as the men you've met before. Next to him was a little boy, young and scared and almost…unwilling, you thought.

He saw you first, eyes open and watching. "Ah," he muttered, "You're awake."

You didn't respond. He watched the both of you for another moment before he finally spoke again, this time to the mysterious being next to you. "Are you awake? Are you listening?"

There was a long pause of silence. The being did not stir. The man sighed and circled the dome to take the both of you in, stopping at the other side to see you more clearly.

"I know who you are…" a beat, "Dream of the Endless."

You breath silently caught in your throat at the name. The being beside you, a man you had begun to question the presence of after so long without the proof that you had hoped you would be above the necessity of.

The being, Dream of the Endless, opened his eyes. You both remained still.

The man spoke again. He sounded so pleased with himself as he did so, "I captured you according to the laws of magic…but it wasn't you I wanted."

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811 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

#2

Couldn’t Wait, Huh?

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff Warnings: Lesbian smut, dub!con, slight? somnophilia, threesome, oral giving and receiving, masturbation, fingering, face riding, praise kink, teasing, dirty talk, slight degradation, switch!Wanda, dom!Natasha, switch!Reader. A/N: This has been in my drafts for a bit, so I’m finally posting it. Have fun!

You were all coming back from a mission. It was late at night and Natasha was driving back to the compound with you and Wanda in the backseat.

You were your head laying across Wanda's lap, sleeping as Wanda's hands carded through your hair. Natasha glanced back at the two of you, smiling at her girls before turning her eyes back to the road.

Wanda watched you as her thumb brushed over your cheek, moving to cup your throat. She saw the way you moved slightly, your lips falling open as a breath left you.

Her lips curled into a smirk, her fingers trailing down the column of your throat and to your breasts, squeezing. A slight moan caught in your throat, shifting again at the feel of her hands on you. She pulled her lip between her teeth, letting out a slow breath before letting you go.

She kept her hand sitting atop your head, her other hand smoothing along your side and over your ass. Again, she squeezed gently and marveled at the way you did not wake from her touch. Her smirk faltered only just a little when she saw you shift again, this time with more movement as you breathed in deeply. She knew you would wake soon, but she was beginning to have some fun. Scarlet tendrils seeped into your temples. Your body, which had tensed slightly, released again as you fell completely limp on her lap. Your evened out breathing confirmed your sleep and her hand continued to roam your body.

Wanda's hand played with the waistband of your pants, shifting to the clasp of your jeans and undoing them. Slowly and silently, she opened your zipper and cupped your mound in her hand. Your lips pressed together, a crease formed between your brows.

She dipped her hand under your panties, cupping you again as she palmed you. Her finger pressed against your clit, rubbing it gently, teasingly. Your hips wiggled slightly and she smiled down at you. It was when she dipped two fingers inside of your pussy when another tiny whimper escaped your lips. She pumped them slowly in and out of you, reaching deeper and deeper before curling them deliciously.

You were getting so wet already, covering her fingers in slick as she played with you. She bit her lip harder, getting more and more addicted to the way you began to squeeze around her fingers. A firm curl of her fingers pulled another moan from you, and this one caught Natasha's attention.

Through the rear-view mirror, Natasha's eyes found Wanda's smirking mischievously at her. She knew that look in Wanda's eyes, a dark hungry look that darkened her own gaze. Wanda added a digit, pumping her hands faster inside of you to bring you closer.

You dug your face into her lap, a hand curling around her leg to hold her. After a moment, she pulled her fingers from you and brought them to her lips. She held as much eye contact with Natasha as she could, licking your arousal from her fingers and suckling gently. Natasha gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white as she groaned deeply in her throat.

Wanda hummed, her eyes fell closed as she sucked on her fingers. When she pulled them from her lips, she smiled and whispered to her peaking girlfriend, "She tastes so sweet, Tasha."

The latter clenched her jaw in response, letting out a breath as a smile took over her own lips, "Taste her for me."

Wanda's smile widened and unbuckled both your seatbelts. She shifted you so you were lying across the backseat. She stripped you of your bottoms, shucking them away and admiring your heat as she positioned herself with you. With a silky grin, she pressed her lips to your wet cunt and hummed. "I bet she's so good, baby," Natasha said, her voice husky as her breath became shallow.

Wanda agreed with another hum instead of actually replying, too busy pushing her tongue inside of you as your pussy clenched around her. Your tiny mewls fueled her as your hands balled. Her hands gripped your thighs tight, nails practically digging into your skin as she ate you out.

She thoroughly enjoyed the taste of you, her tongue plunged inside of you and she sucked on your clit almost harshly. Your hips squirmed and tried to buck against her, but she held you down to keep you still. It took a lot for Natasha not to stop the car as your needy sounds filled the car, accompanied by the sounds of Wanda sucking and licking you.

You were harshly pulled from unconsciousness as your orgasm rolled over you, an intense pleasure rushing through your body. A loud moan erupted from your throat first and your body followed as you arched your back, your hands tangling in Wanda's strawberry locks. Your eyes shot open and looked down to see Wanda's head between your thighs. The pleasure blinded you and the sight excited you. Your orgasm hit you hard as her name came from your throat.

Her fingers pushed back inside of you, curling and thrusting as she helped you through your high. She did not let a single drop go to waste.

When you eventually came down, your body fell back onto the seat as you caught your breath. You were still trying to recover from being woken so violently, your body still sensitive to everything around you. "Damn, Wanda," you sighed. "You couldn't wake me up first?"

She smiled, running a hand through her hair and sucking on her fingers. "You just looked so peaceful." You sat up and took her chin in your hand, kissing her deeply as you tasted yourself on her tongue. She chuckled against you. It took you a moment to realize that you were still in the car, which was now speeding down the road.

You looked at Natasha. "Nat, slow down," you told her gently, laughing a little. "We're gonna go flying out of the window soon."

The car then began to slow to a stop—it took a while because of how fast she had been going—and pulled to the side of the sleepy road. She opened the door and got out, rounding the car to the side Wanda was currently occupying and tearing open the door. "Move over, baby, it's my turn."

Wanda moved away and Natasha pushed you roughly back into the seat to lay you down, her hand pressing into your chest as her lips hungrily found yours. She easily dominated you, pulling a whimper from your throat as she slid her tongue between your lips. Wanda crawled over to the other side, and you started fiddling with her jeans when Natasha's mouth found your neck.

You got them off of her, discarding her panties as you looked at just how wet the two of you had collectively made her without even doing anything. Natasha kissed your belly, lips moving further along your body before pressing against your clit. You moaned loudly, still sensitive to touch as your cunt throbbed.

You looked back at Wanda, eyes finding her glistening folds as a smile came to your face. "Sit on me, sweetheart." Wanda bit her lip again, her canines digging into her skin and drawing blood. She let go of her lip with a sigh as your tongue found her pussy, licking and sucking on her with a shared moan. Wanda pulled her shirt over her head, undoing her bra quickly before cupping her breast in her hand, her free hand running through her hair.

Your arms wrapped tightly around her thighs as Natasha's hands dug into your own, her nails finding the same place Wanda's had only moments before. She buried her face between your legs, licking at your sensitive pussy as a her fingers pushed inside of you again.

Wanda rode your face, her tits bouncing with her in a hypnotic manner. One of her hands moved to tangle in your hair, a lazy smile on her face as she closed her eyes, needy please slipping from her lips at your good work. She shuddered against you, your moans from Natasha's tongue sending shivers of pleasure through her.

Natasha traced her hand along her body, raising her shirt and undoing her jeans. One hand kept you still while the other dipped under the waistline of her panties, pushing inside of her own pussy with a sigh. She pumped her fingers inside of herself, her palm pressing to her clit.

All of your moans filled the car, which was heavy with sexual desires and longing. With all of you at work, fueling and fucking each other, you were coming again in no time. You came first, most sensitive and stimulated. Wanda was after, her thighs trembling violently and her breath shuddering as your name fell from her lips. Natasha followed after the both of you, her fingers working against her clit roughly as her muffled groans shot through you.

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1,629 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You, Me, & Steve

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x Steve Harrington Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: NSFW, smut, face riding, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, deepthroating, praise kink, daddy kink, gay sex, I’m not saying Steve’s a sub but Steve’s a sub, bottom!Steve, top!Eddie, switch?Reader, overstimulation, threesome... A/N: There this song called You, Me, & Steve by Garfunkel and Oates, and I love the song so...enjoy this filthy ass fic with everyone’s best friend Steve. Thank you!

You smile across the table at Eddie, pursuing another slice of pizza from the pie between you. His face is stuffed with a huge bite, cheeks full and a stupidly large grin on his face. There's grease on the corners of his mouth and a string of cheese hanging over his lip. You chuckle lightly before taking a bite of your slice.

He speaks around his mouthful, "It's great, right?"

"Mhm," you hum, chewing your slice thoughtfully, "'S good."

You set the slice on your plate, dusting off your ringed-up hands as you pick at the slice of pepperoni hanging off the side. Eddie tilts his head as he sets his own slice down, rubbing his hands together before wiping them on his jeans. They were his good jeans, the ones that only had the one small hole across the knee.

"Babe," he calls your attention, raising his brows and offering a small smile. "You okay?" He looks at you through his bangs, reaching over the table and brushing his fingers over your knuckles.

You look up at him and smile, "Yeah, perfect."

You feel his shoe tap against yours under the table and laugh. You return the kick lightly. "We playing Footsies now?" you raise a brow, laughing when you feel his foot kick you again. And then you are playing Footsies as he continues to nudge you here and there, the both of you at war under the table.

A small fit of giggles erupted from you as you gazed at Eddie, his big brown, doe eyes staring back as he laughed rambunctiously. You could have wished a thousand wishes for this moment. You can’t believe that it’s finally you and him, and him and you. Just you.

And his friend Steve.

Steve Harrington plops down in the seat right next to you with a pie in hand, laughing lightly at the scene he’d walked into. Your light-heartedness fades slightly as you glance at him with a tight smile.

“Playing games without me?” he quips as he sets the second pizza on the table. It’s loaded with toppings, and he immediately scoops a slice onto his plate, giving the both of you a large grin. Yours is forced as you return it, Eddie’s is easily reciprocated with nothing but his usually strange bubbliness.

You don’t even know what his whole deal with Steve is. He’s always around now. Before, you could snag plenty of hours with Eddie where it’s just the both of you alone. But now, it seems like you can’t shake Steve.

Eddie would ask, “Hey, you want to go catch a movie?” Then you’d say yes and be on your way to a drive-in and see Steve Harrington coming to join.

Then Eddie would ask, “Hey, you want to go out? Get some food and come back?” You’d say yes and be on your way. Then Steve fucking Harrington would show up once more.

Eddie notices you space out and looks at you again. “Hey, you okay?”

“Hm?” You look at him quickly and offer another tight smile. “Yeah, fine.”

You’ll be better when Steve leaves so you can hang out with your boyfriend alone.

~

You’re filled with a little bit of hope when Eddie asks you out again later on in the week. You’d just hung out with him and Steve all day. You are hoping Eddie has gotten his fill when he asks you if you want to get ice cream with him. You are excited as you get in his van alone, and then drive to the ice cream parlor alone, and then enter alone.

Your mood is ruined when you spot Steve waiting for the both of you in a booth. He flashes you both that huge grin and beckons you over. Eddie greets him happily and brings you both to go sit. You’re seething, but you hide it well.

It happens again when the circus is in town.

And then again when you and Eddie go to Skull Rock to let loose with some weed and Steve fucking Harrington just shows up.

You could have wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear. It's not that you don't like his friend, and it's not that you don't think he's great—truth be told, you had a major crush on Steve before you got with Eddie—but how many hours with him can you truly spend when you hardly even have time to fuck your boyfriend in peace? At the very least, you wanted to just have an hour to yourself to fuck Eddie without him getting a call from Steve to ask if the two of you wanted to hang out again. You hang out so much, you’re so pent up from not having the time.

Eddie notices your unease as you hole up in the living room of his trailer. Steve's lounging on the couch with you squished between them. He grabs your attention with a hand on your arm and excuses the both of you to his bedroom.

Eddie closes the door carefully behind him and is surprised when you jump his bones. You moan into his mouth as you push him against the wall and run your hands over his chest, your lips devouring him as all the pent up stress explodes.

He responds almost immediately, after getting over the initial shock, and kisses you back with just as much hunger. He’s just as pent up as you are. His arms wrap tightly around you, and he turns you around so you’re pressed up against the wall instead. You both moan into the other’s mouth, the sound muffled by your squished lips.

But then Eddie pulls away and smiles at you, chest heaving from breathlessness and eyes blown from lust. “What’s going on?” he asks quietly. “You okay?”

You huff as you stare at him, eyes darkened with desire. “I want you.”

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2,786 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

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