#because it was ‘none of my business’ and no one would justify my feelings on it

[choking-on-roses]

If you're a minimalist and you pride yourself on that, that's great! But if you know someone who is NOT a minimalist you are actually free to shut the fuck up about it. Just so you know.

[robertsbarbie]

i do a really bad thing where i have a conversation in my head but then retaliate out loud like when i’m overwhelmed i’ll be like ‘gosh everyone is being so annoying and so loud’ and then the second someone talks to me directly i’ll be like ‘STOP DONT TALK TO ME’ instead of being normal in the first place and asking people to not talk to me in a polite manner

[d4yl1ghts]

Hi could I request an Anthony c wife reader fic where they are in a heated argument and Anthony accidentally says he regret marrying reader so she ends up giving him the silent treatment and just ignoring him so he can grovel for her forgiveness

regrets

(mean?) anthony bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: anthony realises the importance of words

warnings: argument

-

As you trudged down the antique staircase, you couldn’t help but ponder the lack of the presence of your husband recently. He was always locked away in his office and whenever you confronted him, he would always reply with: “I still have more work, Y/N.” After he said that, he would kick you out of his office. You were really missing Anthony currently and you longed for his touch, despite never really enjoying physical touch, you longed for his touch.

And so that is what led you to now, storming into his office, without even knocking. Anthony huffed quietly as he looked up to see you. He held his head in his hands as he stared back down at his pile of paperwork. “What?”, he asked blatantly as he eyed the paper. “Is that all you have to say to me?”, you asked bemusedly. “Yes. You stormed into my office whilst I am working.”, he justified. “Do you only care for your work and business?”, you asked with an upset expression.

“No, it is just so overwhelming sometimes. It is a requirement that I see to all of it as the Viscount.”, he responded as he shuffled in his chair. “Is it not a duty to spend some of your time in the presence of your wife?”, you asked as you focused on the elegant wooden desk, avoiding his intense eyes that often gave away his emotions. “I suppose so. I almost regret marrying.”, he confessed. You simply stared at him. Did he really regret marrying you? Why did he go through all of the effort of making your wedding perfect for you if he didn’t want to get married?

Silently, you forced your feet to carry you back into your bedroom which was fortunately not shared with Anthony. In the past, you would spend your sleepless nights in his room and he would go into yours if he burned for your passion. You slammed the door shut and locked it: to be certain that he would not enter your chambers. You needed to be alone.

It was safe to say that it was yet another sleepless night but he was not there to ease you through it. Amidst the sunlight of the rising sun, you hastily got ready for the day; you requested for your hair to be more simply styled today and your robes less detailed and delicate. Truth be told, you only asked your maids to do your hair gracefully for Anthony, you hated the process and you decided that you would not care about what he’d have to say about your robes: he didn’t need to acknowledge his wife anymore.

You sat at the table in silence whilst you ate breakfast with him opposite you, none of you making eye contact.

You sat on the sofa as you read in silence which felt unusual with out your updates to Anthony and his queries on where you had gotten up to.

You sat in the picturesque garden in silence.

It was not until dinner that Anthony broke the silence. “Y/N.”, he began as you pushed your food away from you like Anthony had you. “I do not know where to begin.”, he continued as he gazed across at you. “When I spoke such words, I did not realise they would be so harmful and impactful.”

You glanced up for a split second and saw the sparkle of sincerity in his eyes before going back to playing with your food. “I know that you will not ever truly forgive me for those unkind words but I hope you will at least know this: I did not mean it like that. In fact, I almost meant the opposite: I feel as though because I am the Viscount I am unable to take care of my wife and spend the needed time with her.”, he stated in one breath. “I almost feel pitiful for my wife: no one should be neglected simply because they are my wife. I just do not know how a woman could love me for I was not made to be a tender husband or a loving father. I was made to be the Viscount. Those are my duties. And so I thought to myself: you deserve so much better and so why should I bother when I cannot give what you require?”, he pleaded with a new sense of vulnerability in his eyes. You knew how hard it was for him to open up and for him to admit to this, you were proud of him.

“Anthony, you are the perfect husband (when you want to be).”, you mentioned teasingly. He let out a teary smile. “And I know that in the future you will be the most loving father to our children. You even admitting to feeling like such proves it.”, you responded as you slowly made your way over to his side of the table.

Once you had reached him, you carefully caressed his jawline as he gazed up at you whilst tears gently rolled down his cheeks. He placed his arms around your neck and pulled you down so he was able to passionately kiss you, conveying his love for you. As he pulled away, he cautiously grabbed your hand and guided you into his room. For the first time in weeks, you slept through the whole night.

[moonstruckme]

hello! :D I'm not sure if your request are open but if they are could you please write about reader and marauders playing a game something like answering questions and if they don't answer they have to drink and reader is asked who they would rather kiss (or something along those lines) out of them all and reader says Remus and they both get all flustered and the rest of the group is teasing them and whatnot and they end up telling each other about their feelings for one another like the next day or something

im sorry if this ask is like all over the place anywhooo thank you so much!<3 i love your writing btw :)

My requests are open babe, thank you!

cw: drinking game

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

Everything is pleasantly fuzzy, and your laughter bubbles up out of you with scarcely any prompting. 

“Alright, alright,” Marlene says, “James, where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

James hardly hesitates. “Quidditch pitch.”

You slap a palm across your mouth, and your little circle bursts into howling laughter. 

“It was really dark, though!” James justifies. “No one would’ve been able to see us if they’d looked. Anyway, my turn.” He looks around the circle, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Pads.” Sirius looks up. “When you said you’d never had sex in my bed, were you lying?”

Sirius presses his lips together, looking suspiciously like he’s suppressing a smile, and drinks. 

“Wha—that’s as good as an answer!” James sputters. “You prick, learn some boundaries!” 

“No clue what you’re talking about.” Sirius shrugs. “Okay…y/n.” You bite your lip, doing your best to make your eyes look wide and sweet in the hopes he’ll go easy on you. “Of everyone here right now, who would you rather kiss?”

You freeze, trying to keep your gaze from darting to your immediate answer. “I…I don’t know,” you say. 

Sirius shakes his head, smirking. “Not good enough, sweetheart.” 

“Careful,” Marlene warns, “I don’t know if you can handle drinking much more.” 

“Yeah, Pads, just let ‘er off,” Remus says. “Don’t make her sick because of you.” 

“All she has to do is answer,” Sirius argues, but it’s alright, because you’ve seen your opening.

You take it. “Remus,” you say, as though the idea has just occurred to you, “because he’s being nicer to me than the rest of you.” 

The group erupts in cheers and boos, and Remus’ cheeks color pink. 

“Plus,” you go on, emboldened by the warmth of booze in your chest, “he wouldn’t make it weird. None of the rest of you would ever let me forget it.” 

“Oi!” James protests. “I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Yeah, right,” Marlene laughs. “Sirius, who did James kiss last week?”

Sirius tilts his head. “Do you mean on Sunday or Tuesday?”

Marlene smirks. 

“Whatever,” James says, but he’s smiling. “You’re all just jealous, Y/N too. Remus, you’d better take good care of this one. She’s got high standards, apparently.” 

Now your face is warming too, and Remus nudges you with his shoulder. “It’s your turn, love,” he says. “Get him back.” 

You grin. “Excellent idea. James, did you sleep in your bed after you thought Sirius had sex in it?”

James eyes go wide behind his glasses as his cheeks redden, and Remus chuckles beside you. 

As usual, it’s you and Remus cleaning up after everyone else has gone to bed. James would typically at least offer to help, but he’s busy patting Sirius’ back as his friend purges everything he drank tonight in the community bathroom. You’d offered to tidy yourself and let Remus go upstairs, but he’d only said “don’t be silly” and started picking up discarded cups alongside you. 

“It got a bit much tonight, didn’t it?” you ask, aiming for casual but only hitting awkward.

Remus hums. “I don’t think any more than usual.” He gives you a knowing look, made worse by his tiny smile. “They don’t usually pick on you, though, so I’m sure it felt different.” 

You laugh nervously. “I guess so. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it, huh?”

“Well, they make it easy to dish,” he says mildly. “Anyway, it’s like you said. If you’d even said you’d kiss any of them, they’d never’ve shut up about it.” 

You tense but nod, bending to dab at a stain of spilled drink someone left in the rug. “Yup. That’s why I picked you.” 

“Is that the only reason?”

You turn, and Remus is looking at you evenly despite his flushed cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says softly, kindly, “that if they’d asked me, I would’ve picked you too. So I guess I’m just wondering, would you have picked me, if you weren’t worried about everyone teasing you?”

The way he’s looking at you, you know he’s ready to accept whatever answer you give. Remus is watching you curiously, but there’s a bashfulness around his eyes. He wants to know, but he’ll let you off the hook in a second if you indicate that’s what you want. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, I’d pick you.” 

Remus looks like the breath goes out of him. He takes a step toward you. “Why?” 

“I don’t need a reason,” you admit. Not one that makes sense, anyway. It’s just him. 

Remus’ smile is borderline shy. “I’ve got tons.” 

“Yeah?” It’s more breath than word. 

“Mhm. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“That’s okay,” you say, and rise on your tiptoes, kissing him. 

Remus kisses just like you knew he would. Soft and sweet, with little hints of urgency in the press of his hand against your back, the insistent sound he makes in the back of his throat. And you don’t need a single reason to want to kiss Remus Lupin, but you’ve got tons too.

[usedpidemo]

Anywhere but home (Red Velvet Seulgi)

“So can you tell me why you decided to stop by here, out of all places?” you ask, intently gazing at your uninvited guest. 

The thing is, you’re also an uninvited guest. 

You’re inside a hotel room, not your home.

The woman leans back on her chair, smiling radiantly, mirroring that same deep stare back. She takes a moment to ponder through her answer, let her eyes linger on you a little longer. 

“I missed you.”

“Do your members even know of your wheareabouts?” you say, worried. She should be anywhere else but here.

She strongly shakes her head, waves it off as a non-concern. “No, but you shouldn’t worry about them at all.”

“So they—”

“They’re too busy having fun by themselves.” Kang Seulgi has this dour expression on her lips, as if you’re asking beyond what you’re supposed to. “Again, you shouldn’t worry about any of them.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t caught on about our secret—yet.”

Seulgi chuckles, running through fond memories in her head. “I keep my promises, remember? And you haven’t.”

It’s not easy to defend your case to Seulgi, even if the reasons are justified. Back then, you were both young and reckless, and based on how she acts and sounds now, she still is. Of course you still remember the promise you made, much clearer now that she’s suddenly back in your life again than when you first spoke about them years ago. Life really finds a way to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain, pursuing you even as far as the ends of the earth.

“You know very well I couldn’t stay longer than a year,” you say, sitting on a dinner chair across from her.

“Then why did you promise me that you would come back then?” 

She rolls her eyes.

“Look—” you pause and catch a breath. Note the sudden lump suddenly stuck in your throat—a byproduct from years of pent-up feelings from a lack of closure. “Life happened. Shit happens. I didn’t willingly forget, I just didn’t get any opportunity to see you again.”

“Sure, sure. Willingly forget, right.” Seulgi scoffs at your answer, as if you weren’t going through difficult circumstances like she had, as if you had no battles to fight. “I bet you were doing better once you left me to go home, like they always do.”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?” you reply, raising your voice. “I told you life happened!”

“Okay, let’s remove the part where none of us could fly for a year, maybe two. How about the rest?” Seulgi retaliates with another question, and it leaves you in utter disbelief at how stubborn she is. Perhaps that’s the one thing that brings you two together: just how headstrong you both are. “Did you even try to reach out at all?”

Your eyes immediately stray away from hers, much to her audible disdain. No words required to imply anything else. 

“Okay, I guess I did forget about you,” you say, and it’s a half-truth, primarily because you want to avoid any more of this unnecessary drama resurfacing, especially when you’re on vacation out of all times. A nice five-star hotel in Los Angeles, a place you don’t have eager thoughts to travel to, apart from the occasional leave and maybe the multiple team playoff games in the spring. “What do you think happened when I tried to get another visa?”

“Should have asked me for help. I could have vouched for you,” she replies, as if that’s going to improve your chances whatsoever. It doesn’t help in the slightest now. “But what’s the point in talking about that now? I’m here now, so we can catch up on what we missed out on.”

You let your annoyance be known in the form of an indignant sigh. After a brief pause, you quietly retort, “You should have led with that to begin with.”

“Well sorry I’m not the same girl I was four years ago,” she says, tone miffed. “I mean, just look at yourself.”

You fall back on the chair, covering your mouth, preventing more damage. Point heard and taken. Your appalled reaction elicits a quiet giggle out of her.

“So unserious. You’ve always been like that,” she adds, clenching her hand into a fist, observing as you crumble and fall apart before her. “We’re both stuck in the past, but at least I grew; became a better person out of it. And you?”

“Seul,” you say, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she stops this personally charged attack on your character, but she doesn’t stop; she lets her mouth run every thought, every unspoken word built up from four years of waiting. It’s almost comical how she talks about you, like she has an audience listening to her, you included, and you can imagine all the laughs and jeers as she talks. She knows how to charm anyone with the right words and a dash of charisma added in between. Most of it, both insults and playful jokes alike, obscured behind those cute eyes and puffy cheeks that capture your attention whenever she smiles, having lost her anger somewhere in that impromptu rant. 

And it ends like it always has. A show of affection, a little kiss, then you’re both back in each other’s arms, as if the passage of time was a mere afterthought. It’s the oldest trick in the book that you know. 

And it works as it always has. To a fault.

—————

“Gotta say, I hate it when you do that. It’s like cheating and I really fucking hate it,” says Seulgi, between impassioned kisses, tasting each other’s lips like water in a desert. “That’s the one thing I don’t miss about you.”

“Yet you’re still kissing me,” you reply, pecking her lips rapidly, like you have a point to prove. You caress her bare shoulders, while your fingers play with the spaghetti straps holding her shirt together. She mirrors you with your own shirt, tugging at its fabric, itching to undress you as much as you.

Kang Seulgi can complain all she wants, but she falls for it every single time.

“Shut up.” Seulgi rests her warm palms against your cheeks. With a tight press, you’re puffed up, blushed as bright as the sun.

You make out with each other hungrily, urgently reaching for the bedroom, where you end up pushing her onto the mattress. It’s only then you remember just how hot Seulgi looks when she’s at her simplest: in a pink camisole and really short jean shorts. She really had this all planned out, knowing she’d be traveling the States all summer long, and California isn’t the most inviting place to wear her typical clothes.

Or maybe she learned a thing or two from Joy about wearing skimpier clothing in public.

“You’re staring,” she comments, snapping you out of your lust-filled daze. Seeing this, she spreads her toned, slender legs apart, as if inviting you inside them—an offer you absolutely won’t refuse. “I don’t have all night to wait, baby.”

“Hm, how long are you here then?” you ask as you undress right in front of her. 

She doesn’t give an immediate answer; her eyes linger on the growing tent on your bulge, before she scans up to your face as you hover above her on the bed. “Gonna have to be more specific. We’ll be here for a month before heading home.”

“Here. Los Angeles, I mean,” you quickly comment as you lift her slinky arms over her head and kiss down from her temple to her neck.

“Mmm—” Enraptured by your soft lips, her words crumble into nothing but a whine against your ear. “Five days. Practice tomorrow and on Thursday, then two shows the days after.”

“And do you have any free time in between schedules?” You whisper against her neck, slowly lifting her shirt over her head, leaving only a simple pink bra to cover her. You sneak a finger between her shorts, dig between the fabric to brush her folds, wincing at a newly wet sensation. 

"Oh." Seulgi says, voice deep and breathy, shuddering as you press into her slick. Her thoughts go haywire, your long-forgotten touch so fresh and foreign to her, even though you’ve had her in this position countless times. 

"Between practices maybe?" 

"God." Seulgi sucks in a gasp of air, chews on her lip, and says what you're both thinking: "I need you to fuck me so fucking bad." 

“Answer the question first, Seul,” you tease, stroking her sensitive clit with your digit, then placing a second one to overwhelm her. “I really want to know so we don’t waste whatever time we have left.”

Much to her chagrin, the moans and quivers she releases do just that. It’s not primarily her fault when you’re the one instigating. Still, she can’t help but become helpless beneath you.

“Mm—mm—please—just—fuck—” she cries out, tilting her chin as her words are reduced to nothing but helpless mewls and moans. It’s almost cruel to watch, but you’re enjoying every moment of this, relishing the sight of a pleasure-laden Seulgi squirming as you finger her. Part of it might have something to do with the brief argument you had earlier, but as she said, you never really became a better person out of your brief little fling.

And perhaps for your sex life, it was all the more better for it.

She really had no time to waste, hectic schedule and all, but you had all the power and freedom to pin her down like this as long as you wanted. You hated Southern California as much as the day job that allowed you to vacation here in the first place, but you’d happily request a transfer here if it meant you could fuck Seulgi like this as often as you could. You certainly know that this isn’t the reality, but at least for one night, and God willing, the next few days, it is.

“Answer the question, Seul,” you repeat in her ear, every word laced with venom, as your fingers increase in pace stroking her slick cunt. Even with the obstructive layers of fabric around her groin, it only serves as a minor distraction as you pump your digits inside her, never letting up even in rapidly growing heat. As for Seulgi, it only makes her needier, whine louder and her figure squirm more violently, keeping your fingers in a harsh lock. Unable to keep herself together, her fingers squirm at air, then at the sheets as her climax quickly approaches.

“Mm—oh—oh—gonna cum oh my—” 

It takes only a few more pumps before she lets up, giving in to her first of hopefully many orgasms tonight. Slack jawed, neck exposed, she utters a deep, echoed moan as her juices coat your buried fingers between her folds, staining her underwear and shorts in the process. You keep your digits tucked in her heat, slowing your pace to a stop as she rides down her climax, heaving and gasping for air.

“Didn’t expect you to cum so fast, Seul,” you say, withdrawing your newly drenched fingers from between her legs before putting them in your mouth, tasting her delicious slick. “You still taste so good after so long.” 

While she recovers from her orgasm, you pick away at the remainder of her clothes. Shorts and underwear go flying off your hand, and her nakedness reveals the true aftermath: an endless flow of juices dripping from her cunt down to the sheets. As you undress her, you notice the sticky puddle built up on her panties too.

It isn’t your problem.

You hover up to a limp Seulgi, who’s still reeling from her orgasm. An ear to ear grin forms on your lips as you repeat the process. Kiss down her neck, to her collarbones, until you lay your face against her cleavage, playfully teasing her breasts with a hint of tongue, if not for the bra you’ve purposefully left in place. She’s too weak to resist or respond, having turned into a shell of herself, an outlet to satisfy your personal desires. Hungry for more, you sneak those same fingers back into her folds, forcing weak, shrilly whines out of her mouth. 

“Mm—baby, we don’t have enough time—” she blurts, desperate, before drowning in her own moans as you slowly finger her again. You know she’s wrong, you know you have all the time in the world, and you certainly won’t rush, not when tomorrow is uncertain.

You struggle to unclasp the hook on her bra, having buried your face deep into her skin. It’s only after Seulgi regains a little control of herself that she assists you, intertwining your hand with hers before you work together to finally undo the obstructive piece of clothing. She slips the straps off her shoulders, tossing them aside before you dive head first into her now bare chest again, kissing and fondling her breasts.

With every deep kiss, she reciprocates with a whine, and every mewl dripping from her lips comes out a note higher than the last. She clings to your shoulders while you make out with her, like you’re the only reason why she would want to be here. You feel the same way, too. Her eyes flutter open and close like window curtains, mouth pouting and puckering with hunger yet to be fully satisfied, as curved and cute as that smile is. 

She eventually stops you dead, cups a warm palm on your cheek, redirecting your eyes and meeting hers. 

“I didn’t come to make love tonight,” she says, panting between words. “I came here to get fucked. Hard.”

The way she articulates such filthy thoughts leaves you breathless. Sure, she’s said it countless times when you were still together, but you’ve never seen her sound this passionate, this desperate, this needy, that it’s almost uncanny. Up until this point, you thought she was here to reignite a flame, but it seems as though time has burned those fond memories away.

Suddenly, you find yourself lying flat on the bed. It happened so fast; you were caught unawares and in awe of Seulgi’s newfound strength. She flipped you over then proceeded to straddle herself on your lap, resting her lanky arms on your bare chest. There’s nowhere to look except for those glazed eyes, staring you down hungrily. Even as she slowly slips off your underwear and your cock springs free, tapping the edges of her folds, your gazes remain locked toward each other.

And God, Seulgi’s figure is so fucking perfect.

You wonder just how much better her body could look when it was already flawless. The way she used every curve, every muscle, and every subtle movement to hypnotize you couldn’t be any more convincing. Now you wanted to fuck her as hard as she wanted, maybe rougher, and give her a good reason to stay a little longer. 

She catches you staring doe-eyed, smiles with an audible giggle. “God, is this the first time you’ve seen me naked like this? Be real. This is nothing new to you.”

It sounds insulting, and it probably is, but even her voice sounds sexier now to your ears, and that overlooks the intentioned insult. 

“Oh, I get it. None of these girls fucked you as well as I did, huh?” she continues, leaning her face—and the rest of that fucking body, its immaculate figure—ever close to you, pinning you deeper into the mattress. Her lips inches away from yours; you want to kiss them again so bad. “Gonna make sure you won’t ever consider anyone else except me.”

Right before you make a move, she asserts herself over you, drawing back her figure, lifting herself before slowly descending on your raging erection. It’s a difficult, agonizing watch, like watching a car crash in slow motion, only this is something you want to happen immediately. You want her tightness to suffocate and consume you. You want to fill her up with every bit of load you missed out on.

As you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable, you gasp. Your tip brushes between her folds heavily, sucks every bit of air out of your lungs. If she buries herself down to your hilt, you might as well die. A much better fate than slowly being grinded down to the dirt for the bare minimum by work. 

Seulgi’s eyes slam shut, and through gritted teeth she whines, feeling your cock for the first time in years—might as well be forever. The hands that were glued to your chest make their way to your shoulders, pressing on them tightly, as if the idea of letting go would kill her. Slowly but surely, she penetrates herself, inch by inch, until her whole cunt is consumed whole by your cock, burning your loins with her heat.

You both release a harmonious moan as you let the wondrous feeling settle—the feeling of being one again. She draws a hand back to brush off a wave of dark hair covering her face, then she gingerly leans down to kiss you passionately. Even after all these years, she’s still incredibly tight, incredibly hot, that it brings you back to the first time you took her.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you ended up like this for the rest of the night. The best case scenario, just the two of you tangled up in bed. Of course, her body has other things in mind.

“You have no idea how much I missed this,” says Seulgi, breathing heavily as she continuously brushes those annoying strands of hair covering her beautiful face. “You have no idea how many dildos and people I’ve fucked because of you.”

Your eyes widen. Forget the dildos, that’s a long-running secret between you two. People?

You immediately echo your thoughts into words. “People?” 

“When we got here the other day, I was so desperate. I tried so hard. Club after club. Then I saw you roaming around the poolside and I just knew I had to have you.” Her hips begin to move, to buckle around your cock. After a prolonged whine, she adds, “God, I don’t know if I can leave you after I make you cum in me again. I just—”

The motion around her hips accelerates, and Seulgi loses herself in growing pleasure, letting her body do the rest of the talking. The way she lifts and sinks herself down, using your cock to stretch her out clears out every question or thought you have. She feels so fucking good, and you’re more than satisfied watching her make you hers. 

Hands on her waist, you watch as she relishes in you, groaning as she rides you in rhythmic motions, bouncing up and down your cock. You don’t even have to do anything; your hips move on their own, thrusting up and meeting her halfway. 

“God, you feel so fucking good, so fucking big.” Seulgi slowly leans her body back as she fucks herself on you, enabling you to ogle your now wet cock disappear and reappear between her slick folds. 

With each plunge, you find your collective moans join the wet flaps of your flesh slapping flesh, and it leaves you even more breathless. Swallow your throat. You don’t know how much more you can take. The erotic sight and sound is quickly becoming too much to bear. You want the moment to last a little longer.

Not that it’d ever, ever be up for you to decide.

At least Seulgi is gracious enough to recognize this. She continues to impale herself on you, experiment with angles on your cock between thrusts to maximize her already surging pleasure. She isn’t fast nor slow, but perfectly paced to make sure both of you feel good. One hand remains firmly planted on your chest, again, while the other pinches her breast to keep you on your toes. A sight that drives you crazy, now you’re the one breaking rhythm with your now wild strokes.

“I’m gonna lose it, Seul, I swear—” you mutter, aroused by her teasing. She giggles. It’s as she intended. 

“Yeah, maybe that’s the point—” she says in a singsong tone, “Maybe I want you to fuck me like this. Maybe I want you to use me like a fleshlight. Maybe I want you to fuck me like a whore.”

At this point, the only feasible thing that could happen is the first one. You’re giving her hard, deep strokes, aroused by the sight over you. Seulgi has you completely under her spell. It doesn’t help that you’re so close, hanging on by a thread, using every bit of your willpower not to burst right before she says so, even though nothing is at stake here.

“I’m so close, Seul,” you say between gasps, caught in the heat of the moment, and it might have been the worst thing you could have possibly said. “I am so close.”

You swear her ears perk up as you spit those words out, as if they were the extra fuel she needed to recharge her. A hand runs across and down your neck, pinches a nerve or two, strains a few breaths in the process. She rides you vigorously, slamming herself against you like she has some kind of resentment against your cock, but it’s out of lust, not hate. At this point, you’re both crashing your bodies into each other, racing to see who gets to cum first, to find out who wants each other more. 

“Yes, please cum, I want you to cum—” Seulgi rests both hands bare on your chest, angles her face where your lips can function as a safe cushion for hers when it happens. She smells of everything sweat, sex, and alcohol, her hot breath tainted with the shot or two before making her way to your room. “Please fucking cum for me—”

The remainder of her words gets lost at the tip of her tongue as she fucks herself on you, losing herself in the ecstasy of sex for the final time, every nerve and muscle in her body quivering as her heat suffocates you beyond any point of escape. 

Seulgi goes limp, rigid at a point where your cock pokes directly at her womb, and she orgasms. Her mouth slowly dips, producing a whiny, elongated moan while a fresh torrent of her slick creams your shaft and leaves you completely breathless. You grip your hands on your svelte waist, still thrusting through the fading embers of her climax, preparing yourself to follow shortly after hers dies down. 

She regains a little composure, and then she proceeds to pull the plug on you.

Seulgi lifts her hips up, right at the moment you expected to reciprocate your cum to fill hers as she did to you, and pulls herself from the depths of your cock as you orgasm. It feels like a knife was stabbed, twisted, then pulled from your gut, and the sight is almost unbearable to watch. Your aching cock gushes. Bursts of your seed geyser around your shaft, violently throbbing as you cry out in agony, agitated and deprived from what you really want. 

Her eyes glaze down, as if she’s seeing blood on her hands. After the joy comes the immediate regret. She’s trembling, and you don’t know whether it’s from the aftershock of her orgasm, or from guilt. 

“Oh my god. Fuck. I-I’m so sorry—”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” You shout, rolling your eyes as far as the back of your skull and gasping as your orgasm meets an unfortunate end, your cock gradually shrinking as it throbs until nothing spews from your tip. 

“I—I didn’t know what came into me,” she says, tone remorseful, as she gently scoots next to you. She’s on all fours, unwilling to rest beside your tired, splayed out figure—unwilling to bring you more misery and pain than what you’re experiencing now. “I guess I just wanted a little payback for ghosting me like that.”

The freezing glare you give her is half-annoyed, half-furious. You had little to no strength to do anything about it, unfortunately, and this is the best you can do. 

“Well what can I do about it, jerk,” you blurt, turning your glance the other way, wishing you’d never let her in—both inside this room and back into your life.

The bed lightly quakes, and you feel the warmth of an arm outstretched over your figure. “You can take my ass instead. There’s lube in my bag, go get it if you want.”

You refuse to budge an inch, leave her dry for a few minutes, completely unresponsive toward her. She tries to draw you back in, cuddling and kissing your ear softly, playing with your hair, nuzzling her face against your cheek. As much as you want to push her away, you can’t—both from a lack of strength and a lack of willingness to turn her away again, at least completely.

Seulgi redirects your face to the ceiling and the corners of her face. Caressing your shoulder, she whispers, “I really didn’t mean to. My emotions got the best of me. I never wanted to hurt you like this. Please.”

You briefly glance in her direction, catch her eyes twinkling, nearly at the point of tears. You still don’t entertain her.

“C’mon. I will let you punish me. Use me. Let me make it up for you.”

Still, you don’t bother. Seeing how none of efforts have been working, she slowly hops off the couch and limps out of the room. You’re annoyed that she didn’t close the door on the way out, and a little more after she returns and rejoins you after a moment with a bottle in her hand. 

Smiling, she presents the bottle directly in your gaze, confirming it is, in fact, lube. “See? You can fuck my ass. Isn’t this what you always wanted to do with me? Let me warm it up for you.”

You utter an involuntary gasp when Seulgi straddles herself atop you again, her toned, slender legs spread out wide, giving you full view to her cunt and her ass. She strews liquid from the bottle into her hand and coats her holes with the lube, giving you an alluring stare, grinning ear to ear, as if it’ll convince you.

As soon as she finishes glazing her tight holes with lube, you lift yourself from the bed, cupping her face and meeting her lips for a passionate kiss.

“You better not.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

Seulgi can’t keep her mouth off you, your chin, your jaw, affection overflowing until she sees your glow underneath the bright lights. Now, she’s flat on the bed as you keep passionately making out, her hand snaking down to your cock and stroking it back to full mast, eliciting a string of moans from your mouth into hers. Pumping your length and finding it hard, she breaks off the kiss and pushes you away.

Turning her body face down, Seulgi clambers atop the bed on all fours, arching her slim back and sticking her wet, curved ass directly in front of you. She’s clearly mastered the art of using her flexible body to seduce and hypnotize. She’s practiced the motion that it’s routine, like it’s a regular music show performance to her. 

It’s moments like this when you wish there was a mirror available.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Seulgi looks over her shoulder, brushes off stray locks of hair aside, giving you that ‘fuck me’ stare that overpowers you every time. She says she’s down whenever you are, but you know she has anything but time available. 

Still, you were going to indulge in her and make the most of fucking her ass until the sun rises.

You grab a handful of her flesh, stroke your cock with the other hand. Brushing your tip against the entrance of her folds, it’s enough to make her fold, make her crumble. Low whimpers exhale from her mouth, impatiently waiting for you to enter her, to ruin her tighter hole.

“Mm, God, please, put in me already—” she whines, her head spinning—both literally and figuratively. “I don’t know how long I can take it without you inside me.” “I thought you said whenever I was ready?” you jest, poking fun at what she said moments ago. Hearing the neediness in her voice compels you to tease her. Just your cock against her wet folds has her cries reaching higher. Up, down, and her tone pitches.

“Stop that! Just because I said what I said doesn’t mean I want it as much as you do.”

“I wasn’t complaining this much when you forcefully rode me,” you reply, spanking her ass with a quick palm, forcing a yelp from her. The more she goads, the brighter her cheeks smolder.

“Please just put it in already, oh my God.” Seulgi turns to you, gritting her teeth, so desperate for her cock to be filled. Another slap, another cry of pain and pleasure. 

“Keep complaining. I like it when you complain like that.”

“Mm, fuck!” With every word she tries to utter from her lips, your hand meets her flesh with a powerful smack, disrupting her train of thought. You could write poems, lyrics, sonnets, with the syllables she's stuttering out, until even the slightest of noise is enough to warrant another slap of her ripe ass. Soon enough, her cheeks are burning the brightest of red.

And you still haven’t put your dick anywhere inside her.

“Enough teasing! Fuck me already—mmmph!”

You take her by surprise, nudging your cock against the tightness of her smaller hole, and making her moan the loudest she’s ever moaned so far tonight. Her body tries to resist, to push you off before you can fully sink yourself deep in her ass, but the wetness of her entrance is enough to help you nudge yourself inside. Seulgi’s groan drags out as long as the time it takes for you to penetrate her backside, slowly but surely burying yourself to the hilt. 

When you finally reach the depths of her ass, you groan in agony as you drown in the sensation of her tight walls stretching against your cock. Hands firmly gripped on her ass, you swear you can feel your shaft breaking in half as you struggle to move inside her, but after a moment to acclimate yourself, the torturous feeling of her tightness mellows out, and the pleasure kicks in. 

“Oh God, Seulgi. This ass feels so fucking good, oh my God,” you rasp, leaning forward to whisper and grunt in her ear. “You’re so fucking wet and tight, you’re going to break me.”

She angles her head, unable to face you, but her side profile says everything you need to know. Her body trembles wildly as her very foundations crumble with your presence inside her, yet she’s still able to maintain some semblance of composure to say something back. “And that’s what I want. I want to break you. I want you to ruin me, too. Use me. Fuck me.”

As if you needed any more convincing, she wiggles her ass against your buried cock, making you squirm.

Drawing yourself back into position, she moans as you pull your cock away, the tightness of her ass making it difficult, and her wetness making it easy to plunge back in. It also helps that Seulgi herself leans back against yours whenever you take her, urging you to slide deeper and deeper inside her.

So with a steady rhythm, you fuck her, reveling in the sight of Seulgi’s perfectly arched back and toned body rocking with yours. You had no intention to break her as she wanted, you wanted to let the feeling of her tighter hole linger longer than her pussy as compensation. The sensation of her asshole is so otherworldly, so different from fucking her cunt, that they’re almost completely separate entities. It’s neither better nor worse, it’s in its own league.

But maintaining this level of poise proves to be almost difficult, if not impossible. She urges you on—with loud moans, with enticing jiggles of her ass as you fuck her, with occasional demands from her needy lips—compelling you to take her harder than what your limits are. She pushes all the buttons in your brain that it drives you crazy, and you can’t help but give in, even when she’s the one allowing you to take her like this.

It’s sinful. Out of control. Your pace becomes disrupted, frenzied, and completely erratic. You’ve got both hands gripped to her waist, hammering away at her tight hole as lube and slick coat her outer layers, and the room is filled with the sounds of her lewd noises echoing all over the place backed up by the wet smacks of your flesh slamming against her skin. Forget that the whole establishment can hear you fuck, they have no idea who you’re even entangled with. Seulgi can scream and cry all she wants; they can do nothing to make both of you stop.

“Yes, fucking ruin me, fucking use me, keep fucking me like this—” 

Resting your head over her shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat, sex, and alcohol from her, you rasp in her ear, “I’m so close to cumming again.” 

To make sure she doesn’t try anything funny, you fuck her as hard as your body allows, force her deep onto the sheets. You lay flat on top of her, hammering her with hard, mind-numbing thrusts while you cling to her shoulders, grab a fistful of her dark locks, kiss and nibble her ear—find anything to distract you from the inevitable. She’s screaming and mewling, forcing your attention to her, screaming about how she wants you to empty your seed inside of her, which you intend to do. 

Either way, you don’t have a lot of time left.

You rest your head beside her ear, peck her sensitive skin. You’re fucking her ass so hard it’s almost cruel. Each stroke twists that expanding knot further and further until it’s beyond your control. “Gonna fucking cum again, Seul.”

She nods, bites her lip, eager and ready to receive you. “Inside,” she says once, and it only takes a handful more of pumps into her tight hole before you’re hilted deep inside her. The sound from your throat is primal, borderline animalistic. Your bodies tremble violently as you fuck your cum with each withering thrust, making sure not a single drop goes to waste, until you find yourselves frozen in a state you wish would last forever.

When your orgasm finally dies down, so does the rest of your body. Going numb, you press yourself against her lithe figure, lock her in a tight embrace, finding solace beside her head. A calm, peaceful quiet follows, with your collective deep breaths the only stir for minutes, maybe hours. 

“I guess we can call it even.” Seulgi breaks the silence,  turning her head to meet yours.

“Still didn’t cum in your pussy though,” is your immediate response, still unsatisfied, despite filling her ass with a hot load. “So no. We’re not even.”

“Relax. I’m here for five days. You know this place very well, right?” Seulgi pushes you off her and you settle on opposite ends of the bed, meeting each other’s gazes, her eyes twinkling with a rekindled fire and renewed lust. “We’ve got plenty of opportunities to fuck till then.”

Her cute face glows from the brightness of the sun beginning to rise over the city. That can only mean one thing: a new day has arrived.

“Or we can start right now.”

“Even better.” 

—————

(A/N: The irony of naming this fic Anywhere but home when the actual inspiration is one of Seulgi's other songs from the 28 Reasons album. Specifically, Los Angeles. It's also the best song on there as well. I've been itching to write a fic with those pics she took when she was on vacation, but realized most of them didn't really fit the city setting of the story XD Thank you for reading!)

[anxious-witch]

Also, I didn't want to make a post yesterday because I feel very all over the place and I was for once in my life busy with some irl stuff.

That said. I am a multipshipper. I wrote everything from jance, poly! JO, bojere, and recently bokris. And I even understand that some ships hit harder for some of us than others, and we all have our wishes and preferences.

But there is really no need to fight or demean other people's ships to lift up your own. Repeat after me. Real people cannot queerbait. It's not a thing, it has never been a thing and assuming it's queerbaiting you are potentially forcing people to come out before they are ready. Don't do that shit.

Furthermore, I will be the first one to say I have no idea what kind of rs Jan and Nace and Bojan and Kris have. Platonic, romantic, both, in between, undefined idc. None of us know, alright? Unless they confirm anything, none of us know. Fanfics are fanfics and real life is real life.

But saying something is insincere because you don't like it? Saying it's fan service? These are REAL people. Doing a photoshoot. A very intimate photoshoot.

You are telling me Damon, who did Kris and Bojan's shots to such depth and detail would risk his reputation to do an "insincere" fan service? If he thought their realtionship(whatever form it is) was insincere, he wouldn't have done the shoot this way. He could have easily included them both in the shoot in a less intimate manner if he felt that was right. But he didn't.

I am tired of ppl picking up a fight over this. I tried to be reasonable and nice and bow out, but God, some of you need to touch grass. Not because of being a shipper but because of how far you are willing to do to justify it.

Block me if you wish, if that's healthier for you, but also for the love of God, learn to separate fanfic and real life. I am a writer, but there has to be a line somewhere. Cool? Cool.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Hi, it’s me again.

Could you do 9 & 17 with Dwayne? Maybe the reader was raised by vampire hunters but they don’t like violence so they spend all their life researching instead of training to fight vampires? Just a suggestion you have all the creative liberties

9. Why are you reading at the boardwalk?

17. I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I'm nothing!

Ooh I love this idea!!! Thank you so much for requesting - I really hope you like this!

-------------------------------

"There are vampires in this town. We need to handle quickly, before they know we're here."

My father stood at the front of the table and bowed down over a map of Santa Carla. My mother was washing the wooden stakes with holy water, and my sister was busy practising her fighting moves. I sighed, curled up in the chair by the window.

"Why can't we just let them be?"

"They kill people."

"Isn't hunting them down also killing people?" I asked, but the second I did I knew I went to far.

"You listen to me, child!" My father stomped towards me, grabbing my chin. "You're a part of this family, and we are destined to protect the world from vampires. We've allowed you to stay behind because you refuse to fight, but I will hear none of this nonsense!"

"But-"

"These creatures are evil, demons that poison the world. And if you do not stand with us, then you're against us. You're just as bad as them."

I stood from my chair, trembling with anger. "How dare you?! I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I am nothing! Why can't you just accept that I don't consider vampires a threat? Why must you kill them?" In the past year, I had researched everything I could, from behaviours to living situations - and I could only draw one conclusion out of all of it. Vampires weren't worse than humans. In fact, humans were more vicious killers than they were. Humans kill so many, not just people but also animals - simply for their pleasure (in the case of animals) or because it is expected from them in situations of war. But vampires, as horrible as they are, only kill because they need to in order to survive. And if they find a way for themselves to enjoy the killing, to make it bearable for them? Is that truly that bad? Does it truly make them worse than humans? I didn't think so.

My father turned to me, his stare turned ice cold. "Matthew -" my mother tried to calm him down, but he pushed her away. My sister had left the room, probably not willing to hear the same old argument again.

"You lost your brother because of those monsters. Or have you forgotten that?"

I glared at him. "Those killers have been dealt with."

"Exactly. And that's what we need to do here."

"But they didn't hurt us!"

"Get out!" My father now growled, and without looking back, I ran. I grabbed my bag, ran out of the house, and didn't stop running until I saw people.

I stopped to catch my breath, closing my eyes as I tried to fight tears. I missed my brother a lot, but it didn't justify the slaying of vampires. It didn't. It wasn't right, and it pained me more than I liked to admit that my family couldn't see that.

I entered the boardwalk, finding a way through the crowds. In the bag I'd taken was one of my favourite books, and I knew that I needed to read right now. I needed to clear my head and get away from the trouble at home. I didn't like the idea of reading on the sand, to afraid the sand would get stuck between the pages and damage the book. So, I walked around looking for a better spot.

I sighed as I found an empty bench at the boardwalk, a bright streetlantern right above it. It was a perfect spot to read. As I sat down, curling my legs up beneath me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over me. If they could only just accept me for who I was, and accept that I would never be like them...

I opened my book, and before I knew it, I was engulfed in the story. The laughter of the people on the boardwalk disappeared into the far background of my mind. The movements of the crowds disappeared from my sight. It was just me and my book. I had read it many a time before, every single time turning back to it. If the count cared so much for Mina, so much that in the end, he begged her to kill him so she could be free - then he wasn't truly evil, was he?

"Been a long time since I've seen anyone with that book."

I jumped, startled by the voice in front of me. I looked up and saw a handsome man looking at me.

"It's one of my favourites."

He smiled as he sat down next to me. "Why are you reading at the boardwalk?"

"It's more quiet here," I said with a soft smile. "Here I can get lost in the story, but at home..." I shook my head. "It's easier to read here."

"I'm Dwayne."

I gave him my name, finding myself enjoying his presence. There was something about him. We talked for hours. About the book I was reading now, about books we both had read - and by the time the boardwalk closed, I found myself considering him a close acquaintance.

"Do you want to meet again sometime?" I asked him, feeling more shyly than I had anticipated.

"How about we go out for dinner tomorrow? I'll meet you at the boardwalk at eight."

I smiled, nodding. "Sounds good. I'll see you then!"

Dwayne drove off, feeling contemplated. He knew that they were a member of a family of hunters, but nothing about them gave him any warning signs. In everything they'd talked about that evening, they had seem very positive towards vampires. No, they weren't a threat, he decided. Maybe even an asset if push came to shove. The question was, would that stay that way when they realised that they were destined to be a vampire themselves?

Part 2

[cumikering]

Possessive bf Soap x reader 3

2k | fluff Dating Soap (Part 1) (Part 4)

“Did you mean that?” Johnny grabbed your shoulders. “What you just said?”

“Yes?”

He sighed with a grin, pulling you in again. “Say it again, hen. Been waiting to hear it forever.”

“I like you, Johnny. I like you a lot. I really do,” you mumbled, your warm face pressed into his shoulder.

He groaned, giving you a squeeze. “Fuck, that feels so good to hear.”

“Why’d it take you so long to say anything?”

He scowled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You pulled away to look at him, slapping his chest a little too hard. “You dafty! You said you don’t want to date, always making fun of me for wanting to!”

He gave you a sheepish grin. “’m sorry.”

“Well?” you said expectantly.

“I was scared to tell you,” he began, expression turning solemn. “If you don’t feel the same or if it doesn’t work out… Well then I’d lose everything, and I’d really, fucking hate to lose you.”

You smiled. It was always an honour to be let into his thoughts. “I’m happy you feel the same.”

“So what now?” he said, hope flickered in his blue eyes.

“First off, I need to know what prank you pulled on Daniel.”

Johnny sighed in defeat. He knew you were going to ask eventually. “Well, he’s married, so I-”

“What the hell! How did you know this?” Your brows furrowed. “Did you stalk him?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I got the tech department to look him up. I know I’m not supposed to tell you, but it’s mad how easy it is. It’s literally just a few clicks away.” He added quickly, “But I only started doing this since Randy.”

“Randy?”

“Ehm, Nathan, but that’s his fake name. He’s a scammer. I guess I scared him off when I said I was meeting Theo who got a lead on him.”

“Oh God, so what you said wasn’t just rubbish? He looked sincerely ill after you left. I thought that’s because he was upset you interrupted us.” You couldn’t help laughing. “But why him?”

“It was my last ditch effort. You already saw him a few times, and I was worried you were going to become an item…” he trailed off. “I was jealous,” he confessed in a small voice.

You huffed. “But that’s not okay you snooped around like that. It’s none of your business at all.”

“I know, I feel guilty doing that. In a sick way I’m glad I found something so I could justify my borderline creepy behaviour.”

“True, but you’re really lucky you turned out busting these arseholes. Because otherwise you know I’d be fucking furious, yeah?”

He hung his head. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“Better not. No much a point doing background research on yourself.”

His eyes twinkled. “Is that what I think it means?”

You gave him a mischievous smile before turning on your heels, walking further down the street. “I’m still hungry. Buy me pizza, Johnny,” you called over your shoulder.

He spun you by the wrist with a smile. “If you’re mine, give me a kiss.”

The intensity of his blue eyes sent your heart racing. “Promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” he breathed.

“Clean up your place. It’s always such a big mess.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to you.

You crushed on Johnny all over again - how could you not? He trailed behind you constantly, like a blue-eyed puppy, but now with the licence to. He didn’t have to make up excuses to spend time with you anymore, and he was having the time of his life.

“What’s going to happen if I miss you too much?” You clung to him the morning of his next deployment.

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, yet Johnny was already up in his uniform while you just got out of his bed.

“That’s fine.” He smiled, rubbing your back. “I know I’ll miss you more, so at least you know I’ll suffer more.”

You had apprehensions about how long distance was going to work, but you didn’t realise parting would be so hard. He’d gone on countless missions over the years, yet for the first time, you were near to tears about him going away.

You sniffled. “Don’t eat all the brownies in one sitting.”

You’d baked him a batch of brownies the night before and wrapped them individually for the road. You knew how much he loved to snack.

His chest rumbled with laughter against you, completely ignoring the comment as he had other plans in mind. “I’ll call and text as much as I can.” He kissed your forehead.

Johnny promised and delivered. Sure, his fond texts came at the wildest hours, but they quenched the longing regardless. He’d given you the keys to his place too, for if you ever wanted to lie around in his bed. With bits and pieces of him surrounding you, the times he was away didn’t feel so bad after all.

When he was back in town, he was eager to please, clingy in the best way. You didn’t complain because you wanted him just so. Everything he did had a loving undertone to it, or maybe it was always there all these years, but you never noticed.

“You want popcorn? I’ll make some for you,” he said as you both cuddled on the couch with a film on. “Don’t have to pause it for me.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

A few moments after, the air reeked of burning. You poked your head in the kitchen. “Johnny, what’s that smell?”

“What smell?” He looked up.

“Oh my God, Johnny! It’s smoking!” You rushed in, turning off the heat which he’d cranked to infinity. “It’s a stove, not a furnace!”

A cloud of pitch black smoke rose up as he lifted the lid. “It wasn’t popping so I turned it up!” he defended.

You laughed. “Guess we’re having charcoal to snack on.”

He pouted.

“It’s fine, Johnny.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We can have something else. But you’re scrubbing the bloody pot clean because you’ve burnt it to absolute oblivion too.”

Johnny’s acts of service didn’t go unnoticed even that they didn’t always turn out. One day when you were under the weather, he’d asked you to stay over so he could take care of you, even going as far as cooking his mum’s soup for you (the one she often made in winter). You admired his efforts as you knew how much he didn’t like cooking.

“Love, come have a look!”

You entered the kitchen to him beaming proudly by the stove. You peered over the pot and bit your lower lip.

“I love you so much,” you began. “But fuck me, Johnny. You’ve got the uncanny ability to make everything look like prison food.”

“Och, piss off. I know it tastes good. It’s my maw’s recipe!” He took a spoonful of the chunky soup and eyed you sideways. A second after, he held a cough in and blinked a few times as he struggled to swallow. But it was Johnny, so he wasn’t going to admit to his fuck ups. “If you don’t want it, I’ll have it,” he grumbled, looking away.

He insisted on buying you takeaway down the street even when you refused, so you did what you could to salvage his soup while he was gone.

“Had some of it. It’s nice Johnny, thank you.” You slid a bowl over to him, stroking his hair.

“I told ye,” he said with a small pout before grabbing the spoon, dreading having to eat his own creation. After a bite, he looked up at you with a sheepish yet apologetic smile.

You shook your head as you chuckled, digging into your own bowl. You left half of the takeaway for him.

“Johnny, I need to ask. How much salt did you put in the soup?” you asked as you dried the dishes.

“One teaspoon, just like what the recipe calls for.”

“Are you sure you put in one?”

“Affirmative. This much.” He grabbed the salt container, holding up the heapingest heap of salt that has ever heaped in a teaspoon.

“Johnny, that’s a dump truck, not a teaspoon.”

“Fuck off!” He laughed as he tickled your sides.

“I’ll write you recipes with detailed instructions,” you managed through your giggling fits. “I’ll even illustrate what a teaspoon worth is supposed to look like.”

He stopped, hands resting on your waist. “Why don’t you move in? So we can cook together every time.”

“W- what?”

“Move in with me.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I love having you around.”

Familiarity made you move fast, perhaps too fast, but it felt right. Everything was right with him, especially when he took you home on his next leave. You’d met his family countless of times when you were still in school, but seeing them with the new title made you a hint nervous nonetheless.

“Och, hen. So good to see you again!” Mrs. Mactavish pulled you in for a hug right after she opened the door. “I was so happy when Johnny told me!”

Johnny’s open arms were met with the chilly wind. ”Maw!” he protested.

She laughed, beaconing for him to join the hug. “Get in here.”

His mum took your hand, leading you to the house you hadn’t seen in a long time. Your steps slowed in the corridor as you admired the framed photos on the wall. They were always there, but this time you wanted to remember. Most were of his family – Johnny striking silly poses with his parents on holiday, and his yearbook photos over the years you always teased him for. He had a different hairstyle in each one until he settled for his signature mohawk in fifth year. Further along the wall hung new ones of him and his bright eyes, standing proud in his SAS uniform.

Mrs. Mactavish squeezed your hand. “Look, how handsome my baby is,” she cooed, running a hand down the most recent photo.

You turned to him smiling gently at you. The photos didn’t come close to representing how striking he truly was.

“Let’s have lunch now.” She tugged at you, leading you further in. “I made your favourite.”

Not much had changed. The couches were still there, the rugs the same, even the way that his mum always cooked too much when you came over. That day, it looked like she made enough to last the rest of the week.

Sitting at the dining table felt like slipping into a time machine. Under the frosted glass pendant light, on the same wooden chairs with floral upholstery, Johnny had spent many hours teaching you chemistry and maths - subjects he excelled. But now with his tender gaze as he held your hand under the table, you knew this was meant to be.

That night, you squeezed together in his bed looking up the indie band posters from his teenage years. It was your first time seeing them from that angle. Nostalgia swept over you again, and you couldn’t help feeling a touch emotional.

“I know it looks blatantly obvious my maw can’t love you any more, but I hope you don’t let it get to yer head because I know I’m still her favourite.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, mama’s boy.”

“But you can rest assured no one loves you more than I do.” He kissed your forehead.

You turned to him, beaming.

“You know… I think had I not gone to SAS, we’d have been together soon after we graduated. We would have been here years ago already.”

“How so?”

“I realised I liked you in the SAS, but the distance made it impossible to be more than friends.” He let out a small sigh. “I wanted so much more, but by the time you graduated, I feel we’d walked too far down the wrong path, and I didn’t know how to change that.” He glanced at you. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

“I’ve got no regrets, Johnny. I’m happy we’re together now. I can’t ask for anything better.” You smiled against his lips.

Taglist: @sofasoap @thewizardarson @liyanahelena @kenma-izhu

[anistarrose]

So I have only my two cents to give on the "curing disabilities in fantasy/sci-fi stories" trope, as just one disabled person among many disabled people, but here are my two cents nonetheless.

One defense of the trope is that it's simply a form of escapism, and moreover, a fantasy that disabled people themselves can quite reasonably find joy in — as a feel-good story, a break from all the pain of real life. Many — not all by a long shot, but many — of us would jump at the chance for a cure, after all, and it's not like we're not valid to do so. Lots of us take pride in being disabled, but nevertheless, sometimes it really fucking sucks.

The counterargument to the above is this: that this isn't a realistic trope, and that particularly in combination with the suffocating frequency that this trope is used, this becomes the opposite of a hopeful fantasy. When you have an incurable condition, and the only happy endings you see represented for people like you in fiction are inevitably only achieved once the characters stop being like you — that can be indescribably upsetting.

Disabled characters do not get happy endings while remaining disabled — and fiction is fiction and all, but I'm not going to pretend like this doesn't have gradual, accumulative real-life effects on the amount of effort people/society are willing to put into accessibility and acceptance, because of beliefs like "aren't you going to be cured someday anyway?" Or "isn't this disability just going to stop existing, someday? one way or another?"

I hope I don't have to explain how damaging it is to think the above way, or to imagine a future where disability doesn't exist. (Yes, even though disability is partially socially constructed. That's a load-bearing "partially".)

So, if you couldn't tell, I do generally relate a lot more to the harsher, more critical view of this trope — but I certainly don't want to judge actual disabled people for writing it either (and especially not people with progressive conditions), not when there is genuine catharsis and escapist joy that can be wrung from it. I obviously don't trust non-disabled folks with writing "cure" stories any further than I could throw them, due to a long fucking history of non-disabled people fucking it up — but also, no one should be forced to reveal personal details, let alone medical history, to justify their choice to write something.

This is the paradox that I am willing to come to terms with, by throwing up my hands and saying, "okay, so some of the time I sure don't like it, but it's technically none of my business."

That said: if you're non-disabled, or you're writing about a disability much different from your own (a physical disability when you're autistic, for example), and you want to write an escapist feel-good story featuring disabled characters: I also want to stress that "escapist themes" versus "no one's disability gets cured ever" is very much a false binary. You can have both.

I've never written a "curing a disability" story. But I've both written and enjoyed some extremely escapist, unashamedly hopeful stories revolving around disabled characters — and it's all about accommodation.

A story of any genre where society is more accepting of — and willing to collectively help care for — chronic illnesses and chronic pain? That's escapist, and if it's something that characters once fought tooth and nail for, it's pretty damn cathartic. A fantasy or sci-fi story where medicines are still required to treat a condition, but the medicines are more accessible, more effective, et cetera, may also be escapist depending on the context.

Fantasy service animals, high-tech service robots, magical or indistinguishable-from-magic mobility devices? They're all possibly escapist too. (Just note that a lot of disabled people may still maintain a personal preference for seeing the "real world" versions, and that's that's also perfectly reasonable. Remember that the gripe with the original trope has a lot to do with a lack of variety in representation, justified by arbitrary rules about how fantasy/sci-fi "should" look, and the goal should be not to replicate that.)

So, in conclusion: if you find yourself writing a disabled character, and want to give them a happy ending, I urge you not to jump to "their disability is cured now" without at least thinking through the alternatives. Do your research regardless, and accept that disabled people will likely have a wide range of opinions on whatever you decide to go with — but accept that disabilities themselves are varied, and should not inherently have to consign either characters or real human beings to tragic lives by their mere existence.

[eoieopda]

<whispers in your ear> Cheol x Reader where he’s her brother’s friend? 🙏

the one with seungcheol and the ruse

pairing: choi seungcheol x jeon!reader summary: your knight’s shining armor is actually of flannel, but he gets the job done. cw: reader’s gender/sexuality are left up to interpretation, annoying ex, alcohol mention, the setting is a bar, wonwoo doesn’t actually appear but my girl lee youngji does (lmao) au: older brother’s best friend, fake dating (sort of) type: drabble (fluff-adjacent) rating: pg15 wc: 1.4 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

The similarities between you and your brother start and stop with genetic material. While you’d rather die than spend a Saturday night at home alone, Wonwoo would sooner drop dead than divorce himself from his PC just to leave his apartment. 

All things considered, it’s not much of a surprise when you roll up to the bar with your friends and find your brother’s there without him. Just the same, you’re not shocked when the cursory wave you give goes unnoticed; they’re all too busy guzzling shots to care who walks by.

All but one, that is.

The oldest, Seungcheol, lifts his pint glass in acknowledgment when he sees you come in from the cold. That gesture comes with a bonus in the form of a lazy half-smile, which almost has you tripping over your own feet. Now effectively tattooed on your brain, you still picture that lopsided grin while you cross the room to claim a booth.

Of the boys taking up space at the bar, Seungcheol is the closest to your brother — and, as a natural consequence, the closest to you. So, you tell yourself, it’s only natural that your focus keeps drifting in his way. More than that, it’s polite, checking in to make sure he’s having fun. 

Wonwoo would want that for him, after all.

Right?

More often than not, Seungcheol is too engrossed in his friends’ shenanigans to feel your casual — polite — gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. Even though he’s not looking in your direction, you find it hard to stop glancing in his. It can’t be helped; it’s always been this way. There’s only one conclusion left to draw: 

Choi Seungcheol was tailor-made to distract you.

First, it’s the fact that his hair is quite a bit longer now than when you saw him at your parents’ anniversary party a few weeks ago. The more you stare at those dark waves, the more you try to justify it to yourself. As far as you’ll admit, it has nothing whatsoever to do with how soft those tresses look; nor any desire you may or may not have to touch them and test your theory. 

No, you’re simply trying to determine what vitamins or supplements he takes to achieve that perfect shine — because whatever he’s doing is working.

When you stop gawking at his head, it’s his hands that trip you up. The way they grip Soonyoung’s biceps when the younger of the two starts wobbling, threatening to topple over onto a soju-sticky floor. The urge you feel to throw yourself at the ground and see who catches you is purely scientific, you tell yourself. 

Research.

If it’s not his body, it’s the sound he makes, laughing like a mad man with his whole chest. You have to peel your velcro gaze off of him to see what he’s laughing at: Kim Mingyu, who attempted to catch a tossed peanut in his mouth but ended up getting hit between the eyebrows.

You’d let yourself be pelted with peanuts if it made him laugh like that again — and, quite frankly, you have no excuses left to give about why that is.

Nine times out of ten, your friends are smirking when you finally turn back around because they know exactly where your eyes keep wandering — and to whom. They point out the way your cheeks and ears flame up. Each time they do, you blame it on the alcohol, though none of you believe it.

When you turn around for the tenth time, however,  they’re not smirking. Instead, they’re pushing their empty glasses your way.

“You’re on refill duty, aren’t you?” Youngji asks with a single eyebrow raised. 

You’re not, but she’s not blind. She knows how much you want to hover, and how desperately you need an excuse to do so.

Seungkwan, quick on the uptake, chugs what’s left of his cocktail. His face is still twisted from the sour syrup when he waves his now-empty glass in front of you. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to; his narrowed eyes are menacing, and they tell you everything he’s thinking.

You sigh, put-upon, even though everyone knows you aren’t. Lips pursed tight, you keep that giddy grin to yourself as you collect the glasses and skip off towards the bar.

After giving your orders to the bartender, you glance — for the millionth time — over to your brother’s friends. The one you’re looking for is nowhere to be seen. Bravely, you do your best not to pout.

“Hey,” comes a low voice from behind you.

It’s a miracle that your head doesn’t roll with how quickly you swivel around. 

As soon as you do, your face falls. The excited flip in your stomach is swiftly replaced by a wave of nausea. Your tone is clipped and drenched in disappointment when you respond: “Can I help you?”

Your ex never could take a hint. They breeze right past that deadly look on your face, sidle up next to you at the bar until their shoulder is damn near bumping into yours. Worse, they open their mouth to speak again.

“Haven’t seen you around much lately —”

Is that not the point of breaking up with someone?

Desperate, your eyes scan the room for anyone who might notice the giant, neon exclamation point flashing above your head. Nobody you stare pointedly at feels your gaze on them, so you switch targets — again, again, again. Your brother’s friends are equally as useless as your own, it seems.

What if you tap “SOS” in morse code?

“— I’ve missed you. Missed us.”

Shit. 

Why didn’t you learn morse code?

You’re ready to sprint headlong out of the bar entirely when an arm — thankfully not your ex’s — drapes around your shoulders. With a quick glance up, you confirm that there’s truth to the meme: not all heroes wear capes. 

As it turns out, some heroes wear flannels, and they accessorize them with jaws clenched tightly enough to crack teeth.

“Jagi, who’s this?” 

Seungcheol’s posture relaxes just a little when he looks down at you. You swallow and keep your swooning to a minimum. There’s sweetness dripping from his tone that you want to bathe in. 

“I thought I’d met all your friends by now.”

When you let him pull you closer to his side — so close that your head can rest against his goddamn pectoral — you tell yourself that it’s just part of the bit. The affectionate smile he sends your way is part of the ruse. He’s convincing, though; you’d fall for this con, too.

You and your moon-sized eyes begrudgingly shift focus from Seungcheol to your ex, who still hasn’t taken the hint. That lovesick smile of yours is gone in an instant, giving way to the flattest affect you can muster. The sugar-laced voice you speak with is a far cry from the unblinking and unapologetic expression on your face. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t recall your name! What was it?”

Suddenly, Seungcheol unwraps his arm from around you. He seems to sense that this change-up startles you, so he winks at you while he leaning forward into the space between you and your ex; hands reaching for the drinks you’ve been waiting on.

Oh, you realize. He’s making sure you get the last word.

You swallow thickly as you reach out to take your burden off his hands. He shakes his head and beckons you with a smile, eyes softening. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ve got these.”

You do as he says, following close behind him like a puppy, and you only stop when he does. Seungcheol looks back over his shoulder, calling out first to the bartender: 

“Can you put these on my tab? The name’s Choi.”

Then, dropping all pretense of friendliness, to your ex:

“Get home safe, eh, chingu?”

When you both resume your path to your table, you squeeze his elbow and whisper, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he urges, shaking his head a second time. Although he’s smiling, there’s some unspoken conflict in his eyes that you can’t quite parse. You can’t ask after it, either, because he stops stalling and sighs, “That’s what pseudo-brothers are for, right?”

[zealofchronos]

Hiii!! Today marks the eventful return of Bones Anon. The last thing you wrote for me was absolutely fucking fantastic I still keep going back to read it!!

I see you've been writing a lot of genshin lately but I've never played that game so I am going back to Pokemon.

I want to steal Raihan's big hoodie so fucking bad. I just think it would be so comfy. I know I can buy one irl but I'm a broke bitch™ and it's usually too hot to justify wearing a sweater where I live.

So, if you're willing to write it, perhaps a nice little fic of Raihan discovering his bf enjoys snatching his hoodie? And deciding that he is very willing to go without his signature hoodie just to let him wear it.

Bonus points for fluffy shenanigans w/ Raihan teasing the reader and the reader snarking right back?? Just two smug bastards being smug to eachother (affectionately)

Bonus bonus points if reader is also tall as fuck and the hoodie actually fits them, because I see a whole lot of short reader and I want more rep for my lanky ass!! /j

Anyways thank u in advance I think ur cool as fuck

- 🦴

wahoo !! hello hello, bones anon ! ♡♡

truth be told, i already wrote this a long time ago, a while after i first saw it, but my uploading motivation went down the drain >< i've mostly been lurking on tumblr a lot and reading loads of things, but today i am here to do this ask justice by sifting in my docs and pouring out what you've asked for!

never steal from a dragon, but i'll do it anyway! ;; raihan x male reader

contents ;- fluff , sfw , established romantic relationship , tall reader ! , playful banter , please do not leave the stove unattended while cooking ^^;

proofread by @elvenxwarrior , who made sure the fic was "sufficiently british" ! ♡

Galar was peaceful these days to say the least, with Eternatus being captured and a new champion rising to the throne, there’s a lot that has changed. But it was still all the same, with beautiful days to be lived out, and a multitude of things to do. Be it befriend the Pokemon that were in the wild, or find incredible treasures on a long lasting journey. Or, perhaps, run a gym in a big city.

Morning sun rose over the streets of Hammerlocke, a beautiful city with a brilliant feel. All visitors would marvel at the architecture, from the middle aged stone walls to the historical lineage behind it. But in every city, there are homes- and today, we zoom in on a cosy little den- yours!

After much contemplation, you’ve decided to make a home in this city, for one very obvious reason.

Golden rays peeked through the blinds, day barely beginning but you’re already begging for a few more minutes in. It seems someone could agree, soft snores coming from none other than the city’s gym leader himself- Raihan, who laid next to you. His arms loosely wrapped around your body, holding you close as you could only suffer in silence, succumbing to his comforting grip paired with his almost ridiculous sleeping habits.

Perhaps it was because he dealt with dragons, or because he was always busy with something- be it training, or working out. Maybe he’s tired himself out to the point of dropping dead asleep the moment his head hits the pillow every night, or he’s swallowed too much sand in those sandstorms he conjured up in the stadium ( his mouth was always open, never shut even during those moments- it’s a wonder how he hasn’t gotten any in his lungs by now )… Or perhaps it’s only around you that he finds a moment of peace to just let go of all of his worries and simply enjoy the moment.

You weren’t exactly doing anything- you were merely just another trainer, but you were lucky enough to snatch away the heart of this untamed dragon. Perhaps, you could say that was the first thing you ever stole from him. Because you weren’t about to stop now!

Thanks to Raihan being such a deep sleeper, you easily slipped out of his hold. It was a lazy day today- the gym didn’t have to be open, but it probably wouldn’t stop your energetic boyfriend from rushing over there as soon as he got the chance. So, you decided to take it slow for now, because if it came down to it, you could definitely convince him to just relax for the day.

First matter of the day was simply getting ready, heading straight to the bathroom to take care of yourself. Morning bed hair? Fixed with a quick combing through. Smelly breath? Gone with a simple brush. Clothes?

…Clothes always proved to be the most difficult thing of the morning. What exactly would you wear today? The Hammerlocke City Gym Leader seemed to rub off on you, now taking into account what you’d wear for the day more often than not. Right now, you just stood there in your pyjamas- and that should change really quickly. But what would you wear after?

Returning to your currently shared bedroom, you glanced around as though a new sight might help jog up those brain cells to work a bit better. Well, there was the bare back of your boyfriend, a blanket barely covering him up as he found a pillow to replace your missing warmth. He had such defined muscles, yet you weren’t here to gawk. But the sight alone gave you what you thought was a brilliant idea. Your eyes scanned the room a little further, catching sight of the familiar piece of clothing on the floor of your room.

Raihan’s hoodie.

Oh, this was perhaps his own treasure that nobody has ever seen him without. Well, nobody but you of course. But now it was time for it to be stolen away- It feels just like that one series you saw before, where a group of thieves steal away one’s treasure to change their hearts! But you’re not here to change his heart of course, you’d prefer if his heart stayed yours, as yours remained his.

You spared the sleeping Raihan one last glance before smirking, immediately putting on the nice hoodie after tossing your pyjama shirt off. It fit quite nicely around you, but that was merely because you were just shy of the gym leader’s height. It was a blessing, really, because it meant you didn’t have to get on your tiptoes just to kiss him, or he didn’t have to bend down to an atrociously low level just to meet your eyes. Then again, it’s not like he isn’t used to crouching down- I mean, you’ve seen his battle stance, whenever he gets a little heated in the middle of a match. It’s a little hot, you could say, but since when is he not?

Now, it was time to carry on with your day, singing praises for your beloved boyfriend could come later!

Next came breakfast, and what better breakfast than… well, a big one? It was common for you and your boyfriend to eat your fill. After all, he needed all the energy to get through his day, and to start it all with a nice boost was great! Thankfully, your fridge was stocked with all sorts of things that you both liked, but it seemed today, the flour in your cabinets and eggs in your fridge called for you- the decision was made in your head, it’s time to make waffles! And as if that wasn’t enough, you pulled out the sausages from the freezer, and a few other things to make a not-so-lazy-but-still-kinda-lazy breakfast. At this point, could you even call it that? Oh, who gives a damn.

“ ‘tuuun…” The low rumble of a certain Pokemon sounded from below you, a beloved Appletun- your beloved Appletun, actually. It seems that she finally woke up from her own slumber, coming to check out what you were doing. Fortunately, you had just placed the kettle to brew, or else you might’ve tripped over the poor thing. Having a moment to spare, you decided to give her a little treat, and of course some much deserved pets before continuing to cook away some good breakfast.

It wasn’t until much later when a bunch of delightful smells filled your house did you hear a loud yawn from your room. It was quite obvious who it was, and you could only roll your eyes at how late he woke up. But it’s no matter, you would much prefer it this way, after all. Not long after, you finally heard his footsteps, and it was nice that he decided to actually get up and see you. You could only laugh to yourself over that, looking after a few things in the pan to make sure they didn’t burn.

“Hey, babe, have you seen my hood… ie,” that familiar voice slowly died down as he stepped right into the open space, eyes widening the best they can whilst still somewhat groggy and in much need of some more time with you. “...Stealin’ from me, ay?” A shirtless Raihan questioned, snorting a little as his eyes scanned you up and down. This was quite the unusual sight for him, but it… wasn’t unwelcome at all.

“Yer’ callin’ me a thief? I think you should check who left it lyin’ on my floor,” Your soft laughter filled the air, leaving the stove for a moment to get the hot water into a mug with a tea bag. “Tell ya’ what, I’ll trade you a cup of tea for it, eh, ehhh?” Doing your best to sound convincing, you held out the nice mug of tea to him. It was your favourite mug at that, actually, and you would never use it to serve anyone else. By your right mind, this was a mighty fine trade!

“I dunno… You still took it from me, y’know,” Raihan’s gaze sharpened momentarily, deciding that if anything, he might as well try. I mean, he’s done that a lot, trying despite many fruitless attempts. By many, you could say exactly ten.

“And I’m offerin’ something to you in return! Fair’s fair.”

“No ‘s not.”

“Yes it is.”

It was now a somewhat endless back and forth, both of you repeating the same thing as neither of you wanted to give up. Was it tiring? Not at all. You could do this all day with him. Actually, you probably did this everyday with him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. After a moment of contemplation, you finally decided to up the deal to something he can’t refuse…

“Fine, a nice cuppa’ aaand… a kiss from yours truly..~” You hummed, wiggling your eyebrows as though that was the best deal you could ever possibly give him. And truth be told, it was. You don’t think there was ever a day that his lips didn’t touch yours, except for the days before you started dating. It was the perfect pick up for him, maybe even better than a cup of tea alone.

“Hmm, you have yourself a convincing trade offer, babe,” Raihan crossed his arms as you slowly approached with your favourite mug in hand. That sweet smile on your face was something he wanted to wipe off, but only in one specific way.

“So? Made up yer’ mind or am I keeping my lips to myself?” You questioned almost impatiently, a hand on your hip as you set the mug down on the countertop nearby. Before you knew it, he had his arms around your waist, coming up oh so close to you.

With his eyes slowly fluttering shut, Raihan leaned in. He’s memorised everything, from how long it takes to get his lips to yours, to how to fit his arms around you.

“Takin’ my kiss first,” He proclaimed right before dipping his head down a little, his lips meeting yours. It was sweet and tender, just like any other time. Sure, he was wild and maybe a little reckless at times, but when you were in his arms, he found a way to let himself soften up a bit. He loved you to bits, after all.

Your arms wound around him in return, savouring the lovely morning you were having. It was a great day already, especially with the delicious view you were having. Soon your hands wandered a little, and you could feel him chuckle against your lips.

“Hands off the merchandise,” his eyes fluttered open with a soft laugh, followed by a mischievous snicker of your own when he swatted away your hands. “Greedy lil’ bugger,” He added, but you both knew that you were his greedy lil’ bugger.

“Oh, you know you love it,” You rolled your eyes, laughter definitely a bit too loud for the morning, but you couldn’t care less.

Raihan grabbed his tea, pretty much gulping it down despite the lack of sugar in it. It was already a bit cold, so there’d be no use in putting in any anyway. “I love it just as much as I like you in that, y’know,” the gym leader commented, eyes sweeping up and down your figure once again in the most obvious manner. He just really wanted you to know that he was checking you out, because goddamn, he’s wondering why he didn’t lend you any of his spare hoodies before this. “Guess I can go without the hoodie for the day.”

“Oh, for real?” Almost amused, you had to just make sure. Raihan simply nodded again, coming up to sneak an arm around your waist once more as he pressed his lips to your head and–

Click!

“Oi–?!” The sound of the shutter going off meant only one thing. Your head turned, whipping around to see Raihan’s Rotom phone flying behind you as it just took a picture. That sneaky lil-

“Aaand posted!” The gym leader chuckled as he dove in once more, pressing another quick kiss to your cheek. “And that’s another two kisses I stole from you, heh,” He snickered away, quietly shutting off any notifications from the post he just uploaded. He’ll deal with people questioning that he’s not single later, when he’s done messing with his lovable boyfriend.

“What the ‘ell!?” You weren’t mad at all, really, but you were really bewildered by the fact that he just did that. You expected many things, but that was not one of them.

“Ha! Look at yer’ face right now..!” He laughed a little more, before pulling out something that his silly brain could come up with. “Don’t be mad now, darling,” he paused, the nickname that he calls you when he likes to tease slipping past his lips. “Just wanted to show the world that I’m not on the market, y’know. Because someone stole my hoodie and… my heart.”

Oh, well, there was another thing you didn’t expect. Sure, you two had your playful little fights every now and then, but Raihan never failed to be smooth when he needed to be, and it always left you a little speechless.

“I… you… wh–”

But before you could actually get any words out, an annoying beep resounded from over the stove. You turned over to check and…

Shit.

Well, there goes breakfast.

Now you had to scramble over and salvage what you can, and being a wee bit of a useless bugger himself, Raihan simply stood there and laughed it off. Oh, he’ll see who’s laughing when you decide to ‘‘steal’’ from him again.

[teapartyprincess4two]

HOT TAKE/ UNPOPULAR OPINION

(AGAIN)

Okay, someone commented this on my last post & I’d love to continue the conversation.

Reminder: this is just an opinion and I don’t mean to offend anyone 💗 I am not offended or bothered by this comment, I just want to share my opinion. We can all have civilized discussions and it’s okay to disagree!

—

1. Very true! He HAS claimed to be the founder! They even refer to him as the founder of the brand on instagram posts, promotional videos, and on the update messages they send. But I also don’t understand how him not actually being the founder affects anyone. Literally at all. The world kept rotating, our hearts are still beating, literally no one is going to die over this. It’s fine.

2. Prices vary for multiple brands, not just his. It’s up to you whether you’d like to splurge on something nice or not. Personally, I couldn’t justify the purchase because it’s CHAPSTICK. But, I do spend more money on other items such as foundation (Rare Beauty) or even lipstick/lipgloss (Fenty Beauty). At the end of the day, when you add this item to your cart and type out your card information, it’s your choice whether you actually purchase it or not. Sure he’s advertising his product, but never is he forcing you to finalize your purchase. I’d like to add that you’re paying for the brand and the name associated with it, but if you would just like a chapstick. Just a regular ole chapstick. They sell some (like I said) at CVS and Walmart that do the job just fine.

3. Nowadays it’s very difficult and rare for ANYONE to have a completely original idea. I’m sure he never claimed to have INVENTED chapstick. Instead, he INNOVATED on a preexisting concept alongside a group of professionals (cause let’s be honest you need a team to guide you, especially when it’s your first project) to reimagine and conceptualize his idea. There are actually a variety of aspects that make his product unique. For one, it’s bigger than most chapsticks you find at the store. Secondly, it comes in extremely unique flavors. And lastly, it dispenses differently. So, no, he didn’t “create it all on his own,” but I’m sure he put in the necessary amount of brain power to MAKE it his own. Let’s take a look at other brand owners such as Selena Gomez and Rihanna. Selena and Rihanna didn’t INVENT makeup, they just made their products unique and that’s what people fell in love with. These celebrities have teams working alongside them to fulfill these dreams and ideas, but still work as the FACE of the brand. Nick did and is doing the same thing.

3. I think it was obvious that his brand and product is owned by a company. Unless Nick and his brothers had enough money to literally build a whole factory, gather materials, and then go through the process of hiring an entire staff of employees before ever actually creating and finalizing a marketable product, then yes it’s obvious the product is owned by an outside company. Everyone needs someone to help give them a kickstart, almost like a ‘sponsor.’ Surely none of us believed Nick was actually cutting pineapples and creating chapstick flavors in a secret lab.

4. I can’t speak on the ‘false claims’ this company has made, but even then: a lot of companies find loopholes. Either that, or they lie by omission. And a lot of companies OWN other companies. It’s just business.

5. If you feel personally exploited by Nicolas Sturniolo (he’s literally just a YOUTUBER) because you VOLUNTARILY purchased overpriced chapstick, then I’m sorry to break it to you but you have 1st world problems.

At the end of the day I’m just here to write and read fanfiction and these are just OPINIONS. Take them how you will, disagree if you want to, but cancel culture is gross. Let’s focus our efforts on positive things & if you truly feel the need to scratch your cancelling itch, cancel someone who actually did something wrong. Lol just love each other guys.

I’d like to close this off, and officially end this topic of conversation with this: It’s just chapstick guys. Just chapstick.

Meep moop

[buckyownsmylife]

friendzone - chapter 3

The one where director!reader is forced to work alongside her new work crush and the idiot who broke her heart

For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.  

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Getting back to my hotel room to find Chris sitting in front of my door was a nice crash back to reality, especially considering where I’d been until now. Henry had taken me to a little food park, nothing fancy - it was exactly what I needed, and I was all the more grateful for his simple ways.

Paired with that British accent, I was one second from dropping my panties in front of him, but he let me go once the elevator stopped on my level with nothing but a simple kiss on the cheek. 

“I don’t want to rush this,” he’d said, and once again, I understood. But after the make-out session we’d had - and the significant bulge I felt underneath me - to say I was disappointed would be an understatement.

And now, seeing Chris waiting for me in front of my room, it didn’t help the many emotions I was trying to reel in. He had a way of always getting under my skin, and in the situation I was in at that moment, that was the last thing that I wanted.

“Where the hell were you?” He asked at the same time I questioned, “What the fuck are you doing here?” The fact that I was the most aggressive out of the two of us didn’t surprise me anymore. He’d been driving me crazy for months now. I could barely recognize the person that I had become.

“It’s none of your business,” I rushed to inform him, but just as I twisted the knob to make my way into my bedroom and leave him in the hallway, that ugly, angry feeling that he awakened inside of me made me add more to it. “You don’t get to worry about where I was or who I was with anymore. We’re not together, remember?”

I don’t know why I still cared enough to try to push him. It’s not like I expected him to care. But just as his face began to become purple, I started to question my previous assessments, ‘cause that wasn’t the expression of a man who was unbothered about my whereabouts.

No, that was the expression of a man who did care very much about me. I just couldn’t figure out why.

“Let me into your bedroom,” he ordered.

“Never,” I countered, already wavering in my stance because of the fire in his eyes. I’d only seen them like this in the beginning of our relationship, long before he ever planned to hurt me the way that he had.

“Please.” I don’t know what happened. One second I was pushing him away, determined to ignore him, the other I was pulling him in and kissing him as if my life depended on it.

Was I drunk? Or high? What could have possibly justified the betrayal I was performing, even though Henry and I didn’t have anything solid to stand on?

“God, I missed this,” Chris groaned as he shoved himself inside my room and I wet my lips as I pulled away from his kiss, trying to remember why I shouldn’t be doing that.

“Remember how you loved the way I use my tongue…”

“No!” I yelled, pushing him away only to find him staring back at me with a pout on his lips. A fucking pout!

“Don’t be such a tease.” Did he think that would help? It seemed like he did, ‘cause he tried to get closer while I moved out of his reach in my hotel bedroom.

“I’m not being a tease. I just don’t understand what the hell it’s going on here.” Chris shrugged as if the matter at hand was nothing to him.

“I still want you, that’s all.” I should have been shocked beyond all words, but some still managed to get out of me.

“Don’t make me laugh.” Out of all things, he looked offended by that, somehow.

“I’m not joking.” At last finding me cornered against a wall, he pulled my hands into his to get me to look him in the eyes.

“What do you think? You and me, together again. You know it makes sense, sweetheart.” Hearing pretty stuff now had me sweating - an instinctual response of fear. “You know you have always been the one for me…”

“Then why the fuck did you fuck someone else?” He actually cowered at my words, something that I wasn’t expecting to happen, not in a million years.

“Because I was stupid.” His voice was barely over a whisper this time, and despite knowing better, I found myself getting lost in his eyes as he continued, “And I hurt the one person I loved the most.”

Love. The one word he’d never said to me, not while we were still together. I never expected to hear it from him, and maybe it was the surprise or the buzz from my night with Henry, but I found myself leaning in for a kiss that stole my breath away.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Chris whispered in my ear, eliciting goosebumps as he rushed to take care of my clothes as if he feared I’d change my mind again.

He was right to fear. But I was weak, for him or just in general, I didn’t know and I didn’t care to figure out while he was on his knees, pressing kisses down my thighs while he opened me up to him.

I tried to speed him along, worried reality would come crashing down around us, but he only laughed.

“I’m the one who’s in control here, baby.” I shivered at the old familiar nickname, and then moaned out loud at the contact of his tongue on my clit, making my hand fly down to grab at his hair.

“Where’s your toy?” He asked after licking me for a while, knowing me well enough to know that I never traveled anywhere without one.

I didn’t tell him anything, but he easily located it on the first drawer of the hotel’s nightstand, and then he returned to bed brandishing it with victory in his eyes.

“That’s my girl,” he spoke while I wished he would remain quiet, but I still let him press the wand to my clit while his fingers slipped inside of me, making a mess of the bed underneath us.

“Don’t fucking cum yet,” he growled once my legs started shaking, and any other day, I would have listened to him.

As it was, I couldn’t take it anymore.

He didn’t complain once my orgasm hit me, instead focusing on allowing me to ride it out on his fingers. Wand forgotten by our side on the bed, he allowed himself to rest there for a bit, a sweet smile on his lips as he watched me.

“I haven’t seen you this relaxed since…”

“You stopped trying to make me cum?” I asked, sitting up all at once and looking for my clothes with eagerness to get this entire evening behind me.

“Wait, what?” Unsurprisingly, Chris didn’t seem to be on the same page as me, slowly sitting up in bed as he stared at me with wide eyes.

��Put on your clothes!” I yelled, throwing them at him as the rush of adrenaline and the endorphins started to leave my body, leaving me too tired and stressed for someone who had just had an orgasm.

“Please, give me a chance…” Chris tried to talk to me as he obeyed my request and fixed his own clothes, looking like a kicked puppy all the while.

But I was over giving him chances, even though I had just allowed him to give me an orgasm. “I know you don’t love me anymore, but I-”

I froze in place, my heart rushing and my mind struggling to believe that he would finally say the words I’d been waiting to hear for so long.

“I can’t live without you.” I couldn’t believe this. I couldn’t believe that I had almost fallen for it, again. “I’m being honest,” he insisted while I pushed him in the direction of the door, so fucking done with this entire evening by now.

“You’re honestly trying to get laid, that’s what you are.” And I meant it. I knew Chris by now, better than I probably knew anyone else in my life. But still, seeing him just before I closed the door to his face had my heart squeezing at the sight of his wide eyes and pout, and one thing became clear in my mind: cheater or no cheater, I still wanted to see him happy.

And wasn’t that fucking fantastic?

[jeonminhao]

Headliner Mini Series Part 2 • Wonwoo x Reader

Jeon Wonwoo x Reader (Idol! AU)

Part 2 featuring Mingyu's POV

A series of drabbles & Texts on your relationship with Wonwoo

warning : None, just fluff

A.N : pls lmk what you think/if you have any requests&prompts for the series!

Previous • Next

Kim Mingyu had become the unofficial third-wheel of the group and he knew it was his own actions and ideas that led him up to this predicament. It was him and his own brain that came up with the amazing ideas to introduce his two best friends because it would be a lot more fun to hangout together. He didn’t think hanging out together would mean Wonwoo and you on a date at his apartment with him sitting on a couch adjacent to the one you were sharing with your boyfriend. Jeonghan would’ve let out that stupid cackle of his if he saw this, Mingyu thought, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth. You may be friends with Jeonghan first but Mingyu was that one extroverted friend with golden retriever energy who thinks his bandmates’ best friends are equal to his best friends.

“Why would you introduce them to each other anyway? It’s like watching two Wonwoos, you know they’re gonna fall in love with each other. They’re too compatible together.” Seungcheol had jokingly commented when Mingyu first mentioned how he’d become the third-wheel in this friendship.

Mingyu only whined in reply. Yeah, maybe his drunk, past self thought it would be really cute to see Wonwoo meet someone who would understand him and that person was you. And maybe he had prayed more than a couple times for Wonwoo to speed up this whole courting process because you were both so slow. “We’re taking it slow.” You told him and Mingyu wanted to slam his head against the glass table. You weren’t slow. Both of you were just too dense and too shy to confess. 

Which brought him to his next ‘Mingyu’s Amazing Ideas’, which was to speed up whatever this thing you and Wonwoo had. Movie night that suddenly became a date night because Mingyu suddenly wants to go to the gym. A weekly dinner where Mingyu suddenly decided to skip out on after cooking you the best pasta of your life. 

He was plotting his own demise, really. He thought he couldn’t feel more single in his life but you and Wonwoo proved him otherwise. And it wasn’t like you were flaunting your relationship in front of his face. It was Wonwoo’s gentle touch on your hand, the way you would quietly play with Wonwoo’s hair while watching the movies, the tiny smile and twinkle in both your eyes that Mingyu always seemed to notice without wanting to. He was happy, really. But it just made him feel so single and so prone to be everyones’ butt of jokes.

And as the resident’s third-wheel, Mingyu also had the honor in witnessing the first huge fight of your relationship. It was the first break the group had in a while and he had been busy in the kitchen, experimenting with new recipes he had found during Seventeen’s latest tour when he heard it. Wonwoo’s quiet nagging and your annoyed voice. His ears perked up at the tense whispers that slowly grew louder. He almost grabbed a popcorn and called Jeonghan so they could watch this amazing spectacle together but his common sense thankfully won over his impulsive thoughts.

So he did what he did best. Sneaked into the living room and to say he was surprised was an understatement. You were crying on the couch, face turned away from Wonwoo who looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown himself. 

“You can’t be like this, Y/N.” Wonwoo sighed, looking more tense and frustrated by the second. You didn’t turn to look at him, opting to fix your gaze on the rain outside the apartment.

“I can and I will.” You had replied petulantly. “You were supposed to be on my side, Wonu!” 

“I am!”

“No, you’re not! You told my manager I should apologize to that stupid MC. My manager! I am so furious, Wonu. You know how ignorant that MC was and my reaction was justified! A few hate comments are worth it.” 

“I wouldn’t do that, Y/N, you know that. They posted an entire article on you and the comments were ruthless. I’ve read them. Your manager–” Wonwoo replied, this time with a gentler tone.

“I really thought my boyfriend would be on my side.” You suddenly stood up and grabbed your stuff, startling both Wonwoo and Mingyu. You turned to Mingyu, who looked like he was a deer caught in a headlight. “I’m going home. Thank you for having me, Mingyu. I need to go before I say something I regret.” 

“Y/N–” 

“I need some space.” You said, wiping a lone tear from your eyes and quickly left before Wonwoo could stop you.

Mingyu stood awkwardly by the couch while he watched his best friend groan in frustration. He wanted to ask Wonwoo what happened, if he needed any help. But all that came out of his mouth was a little “huh,” earning a glare from the older male.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu finally asked after a good few minutes. 

It was a stupid fight, Mingyu realized, and he supposed even a mature couple like you and Wonwoo could have a stupid fight. It was all because of an interview you had yesterday, where the MC thinks making crude and sexist remarks in front of the quietest member of the group would be okay. He did not think that you would explode, replying with scathing remarks and leaving the interview earlier than scheduled. The behind scenes were leaked by a staff member and you were blasted on social media, some calling you for being so rude and impolite to a senior who was almost twice your age, some commended you for standing up. And Wonwoo, being the worried boyfriend that he was, had asked your manager what would happen to you, and your manager told him an apology would diffuse the whole situation. You, who was already overworked and in a foul mood, thought it was Wonwoo’s idea to make you apologize. You had cried during your drive to Mingyu and Wonwoo’s shared apartment, heart twisting at the betrayal. 

And Mingyu, unable to let his best friends suffer, had taken the initiative to smack Wonwoo’s in the head, telling him to put himself in your shoes before he went to his room to call you and reprimand you for not listening to Wonwoo’s whole story.

The fight had lasted a good few hours, with you coming back to the apartment not long after you left. There were apologies and kisses exchanged, which was more than Mingyu could handle. So he resorted back to his bedroom, taking out his phone to video call Jeonghan and update him on the situation. 

[raainberry]

Moonflower - III

« In literature, the moonflower has been used as a symbol of love, mystery, and enchantment. »

Sana x gn!reader

Okay maybe it’s angst this time

synopsis - your job is still flowers. she's still not sure how she got into this mess. but maybe you could get her out of it.

- part I - part II -

wordcount - 3.4K

TW - like three (3) of the same soft cuss word

A/N - here is my first piece of work that made me cry out of frustration (we will be blaming emo hours). now if you saw my breakdown live on the tl two days ago, no you didn’t. and if you saw my update yesterday saying this very thing would be up later that day, no you didn’t either. i fell asleep, your girl was running on three hours of sleep (wonder why🥰) it happens to the best of us SORRY. hope you enjoy it though! im actually not too mad at how it turned out🤭

“How would your wedding look like?” She asked, taking a sip of her water bottle.

You chuckled softly at the question, wondering what had prompted it apart from the obvious.

“I haven’t thought about that.” You answered truthfully.

“Not even once?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” She said, convinced of her own words.

“Am I?”

“You’ve helped hundreds of people with their own.” She pointed out. “It’s impossible not to think of what yours would look like.”

“I help them choose flowers. I’m not organizing their entire reception.” You argued.

“Then you probably thought about that much.”

You turned to her.

She was right, but you weren’t lying either.

Flowers were the only thing you’d envisioned so far.

“So which is it gonna be?” She insisted.

“Moonflowers.” You answered, making her chuckle.

“I could have guessed that.”

“Yet you haven’t.”

You fully expected the way she rolled her eyes at you before looking away to focus on the dark horizon.

A small, comfortable silence settled between the two of you. One of many throughout this spontaneous outing, and with each one, you seemed to appreciate them a little more.

Because they never seem to last with her.

“I’ll get the moonflowers.” She blurted out, cutting the moment short yet again.

“What?”

“For the wedding.” She said, almost shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Given the context, it was, but still… You stayed silent, thinking back to the very reason you were even sitting beside her at the moment.

The two of you were parked at the top of some small hill overlooking part of the town, laying against the windshield of your car and sitting on top of the hood.

All your problems seemed so small up there, barely even deserving of a thought. The afternoon you just spent together did wonders for your souls.

She had asked you to drive around before going back home. That somehow lead you to hours of wasting gas and money at random shops, most of which you’d never even heard of.

The more you followed her around, the more it all felt like a getaway. Not in the idyllic sense, rather in the literal one. You could tell she was avoiding her apartment. Obviously you had an idea as to why, and maybe that’s what pushed you to give in to every single one of her requests.

It was nice doing things she wanted.

Sana eventually realised that was the true reason why she delayed returning to her apartment over and over. She couldn’t care less about the man living there with her, nor about whether or not he was actually waiting for her there.

She just didn’t want it to stop. The feeling of mattering. Of being considered. Being seen. Heard.

Her smile slowly returned as hours went by, justifying everything you’d done for her in so little time. It gave you purpose, proving you weren’t losing your mind in vain.

Because boy did she drive you insane.

Was she really still going through with it all?

“Why don’t you choose your own?” You asked her, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts.

At the end of the day, it was none of your business. It wasn’t your decision to make.

“Possessive much?” She teased, and you straightened yourself up. The top of this hood suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Not necessarily. But the only way you’re getting moonflowers at your wedding is by marrying me.”

That’s what you heard yourself say just seconds later.

You’d mumbled it to yourself, letting your old flirting skills and days get the best of you for some reason. You looked at her, hoping she hadn’t heard or at least not enough to get it.

A second passed. Then two. Three.

The lack of questioning was alarming, and in good reason.

You had managed to make her speechless. Unwillingly, yes, but it only made it that much more unbelievable.

Even thinking she couldn’t do, as if her mind had short-circuited at the thought of marrying someone else than the man she’d been conditioned to.

“It was a joke.” You finally spoke up, hoping to break her out of her trance.

It was the truth. It might have been borderline flirting, but the main goal was humor. You were technically joking.

But still. All she did was blink.

Maybe she needed help at finding words, that’s why her lips suddenly fell on yours, right? To steal them from you?

You mentally chuckled at your ridiculous thought process, ashamed of it as if it had been heard by the whole world. Good thing it faded out with each one of her kisses.

She was efficient, you’ll give her that. However what stuck with you was how soft, how delicate her lips were against yours. It debilitated all cognitive functions of your brain. The power was out for at least three seconds at one point. You couldn’t think straight, kissing her back as if you were supposed to.

As if she were yours to begin with.

It’s unclear how long it took for you to gain enough sense back, all you knew was that feeling her bite down on your bottom lip did the trick.

The faint pain as she tugged on it ever so softly snapped you back to reality, warning you about what would come if you didn’t pull away in the next second.

You felt your heart race as it all sunk in.

The one thing you had told yourself not to fall into earlier that day… A trap that seemed so obvious it managed to fool you. You practically jumped into it.

As much as you danced around it, you knew what you were here for. What you’d agreed to. What she wanted you for.

You knew you were just a pawn in her vendetta from the start. She’d made it very clear. So why did the whole idea just dawn on you now?

Maybe you’d turned a blind eye for as long as you could, you couldn’t say to save your life. All you knew was that you didn’t like it one bit.

So when she went for another kiss, leaning in to capture your swollen bottom lip, you made sure she never reached it.

That earned you a confused look from her, as if it were the first time her kiss was denied. The sight would have been amusing, if only you didn’t feel so torn yourself…

Your gaze reflected that to Sana, and she had a hard time figuring out what exactly was it that was so wrong.

Though she could at least tell you were tormented, it was only confirmed when you jumped off the hood.

She watched as you started to walk away from the car and further into the darkness surrounding you.

Where the hell were you going? You were basically in the middle of nowhere.

“Y/N!”

The sound of the rocks and dirt beneath your shoes faded out as you came to a halt, feeling her eyes burning into your back.

“Where are you going?”

You turned around, seeing she had stepped off the hood too, and taken a few steps towards you.

“I’m going home.” You told her, tearing your eyes off her as you started walking away again.

“So you’re leaving me alone in some hilltop at night in the middle of nowhere?”

No, you weren’t.

You made sure to brush right past her on your way back, though, heading straight into the driver’s seat.

Slamming the door behind you, you let out a heavy sigh you were sure she’d heard from outside. It took longer than you’d have liked for her to join you, only sitting in the passenger seat after making sure you’d calmed down.

Not a word from her. Not a sound from you. Only your clothes rubbing together as your leg showed itself to be restless.

You refused to look at her. She didn’t like the attitude, but a part of her could understand. So she didn’t say anything, and stared out her own window in silence.

As minutes went by, your anger and frustration slowly get overcome by a familiar sensation.

Greed. You wanted to know.

Nothing about this woman concerned you. Yet you wanted to know more. You needed to.

The feeling appeared as soon as she’d spoken up at the flower shop, and now it managed to appear without a single word from her.

It was only days ago. The speed of it all was frightening.

Yet you couldn’t help how curious the still silhouette in the corner of your eye made you. What was she thinking about now?

The wedding? Her fiancé? Herself? You?

Turning to look at her, you watched her through a calmer mind as your questions grew in number despite yourself.

“What’s on your mind?” You finally spoke up.

Your voice was louder than you remembered. It startled her, but she hid it well before meeting your gaze.

“Nothing you’d care about.”

You frowned internally. The same feeling as back in the flower shop again. You felt it back when she sat down beside you on the hood earlier too.

She was close. She was pretty. So pretty.

You suddenly felt jealous, and that pretty much signed off on the insanity of this situation you’d somehow put yourself in. Or maybe she’d dragged you in it, who cares, it wasn’t important anymore.

“Don’t get married.”

You whispered this time, but the words were still loud.

Sana closed her eyes, and the silence that followed was loud enough to stress about it. Your words had slipped out again, but this time you found nothing to cover them up with.

Partly because you didn’t even want to cover them up.

Her eyes opened again, allowing the cheap lighting outside to reflect on those beautiful brown eyes. You were in awe at that point. Tired, but still able to appreciate such a pretty sight.

“You’re so unfair.”

You snapped out of your trance at the sound of your own thoughts echoing through her lips.

“What?”

“You know why I brought you here, right?”

Her gaze fixated far ahead while you could only focus on hers. You weren’t trying to make her look at you, though. You were only trying to see what she was seeing.

“Answer me.” She ordered, attempting to conceal the weakness in her voice.

“I do.” You admitted.

“Then help me.” She pleaded. “I can’t do it alone.”

“I’m trying to.” You assured her. “Ever since you stepped into the shop, that’s all I’ve done.”

“Then why did you pull away?”

You sighed once more, finding interest out the windshield as well. Your lips parted without sound for a second, debating on whether or not you should let these words slip out too…

“I don’t want to be your scapegoat.”

Sana swallowed the knot in her throat. The truth was a little hard, but it remained. You were right.

She didn’t plan on kissing you earlier. That alone could have proven your worries to be wrong. However, everything she managed to think about as soon as her lips touched yours… It all gave you more than one reason to worry.

Giving in to desire was weak on her part. Part of her regretted it. It threw away all her hopes of ever pulling the spectacular revenge she dreamed about.

So she had to think of a backup plan.

What she managed to come up with was simple, deprived of any details she would normally be able to think of. Infatuation only allowed her to think of the big picture, while she focused on satisfying her desire.

By that point, she did plan on sleeping with you. She did plan on letting her fiancé find out. And after that, she did plan on throwing you under the bus if things ever got too much to handle.

Now that her mind was given time to properly think, she realised something very upsetting.

This so called backup plan was none other than her inital one. One she’d made up in the lowest point of her life, all out of hope and lost in purpose.

She was back at square one.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, making you look back at her.

Her eyes were closed, and you found out it was a weak attempt at stopping the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

The sight of them surprisingly left you indifferent. You stared at her in silence for a few long seconds, unsure of what to do, or say.

You were hesitant, but you were far from heartless.

Your index finger ended up reaching for her jaw, catching the salted droplet before it stained the fabric of her pants below. The one on the other side of her face might have, but that wasn’t something to worry about for either of you.

Sana’s mind was stuck on your finger lingering on her sharpest bone. The feeling of your skin against hers, of a touch as innocent as this one… It was conflicting.

She opened her eyes, catching yours by surprise. She expected you to, but you didn’t look away this time. That allowed her to notice the color of your eyes for the first time.

She couldn’t tell you why she got stuck on such a detail, and to be honest, she didn’t feel the need to find a reason.

She could, so she did. Something else she hadn’t been able to do in a long while.

And it felt good.

“Y/N…”

Your jaw clenched at the sound. Your name sounded so pretty enlaced in that sweet voice of hers…

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you anticipated her next words. The flutter in your chest made itself known again as the adrenaline left little room for shock when she’d eventually say them.

“Do you still want to sabotage a wedding?”

A heavy sigh freed the breath that had caught in your throat.

It dawned on you yet again. Hearing those words for a second time… You were going in circles. This really was nothing but a trap.

You didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose, if she lured you in or if she was just as stuck as you were—Hell, you didn’t even care.

You just needed to get out while you could.

So your hand found the key in the ignition, and it took no time for you to start the car up.

The sound of the engine revving as you prepared to leave triggered something in the woman sitting next to you. Something that made her heart race as she began mumbling something.

It seemed as though she was repeating something under her breath, her gaze out in the dark around you and absent like she’d retreated within her own mind.

Her words were loud enough for you to notice she was saying something, but not enough to understand it.

You froze at the scene, unsure if you should hear her out, reassure her or step on the gas. It was obvious what you should do, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to.

So she made you do it herself.

“I don’t want to go back!” She yelled over the engine, and grabbed onto your arm.

You let go of the key, her fingers tightening around your forearm as her eyes looked for yours.

“I don’t want to go back.” She repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

Your eyebrows furrowed, something you could only feel as your body reacted to her once more. You didn’t know what hurt more; seeing the tears pool in her eyes as she struggled to hold them back or her nails digging though the fabric and into your skin.

“Please...”

You couldn’t answer as something on her hand distracted you from the pain. Something shiny. A glimmer on her ring finger—most likely diamonds. Might as well have been rocks; it held no value in that so called promise between her and that man. At the least it didn’t for one of them.

You looked back at the bearer, your jaw tense as you thought. Your mind flashed back to mere moments ago. Why was she still wearing it? She had no right to. Not after leaving such betrayal on your lips.

“Then take it off.” You spoke up, your voice hoarse as if you’d been yelling for liberation.

Her mind was shaken, desperate to see through eyes that looked so unfamiliar now.

Your gaze was stern. It all looked blurry, as if you’d built a wall in front of what she had access to just moments ago…

“What?”

“The ring, Sana. Take it off.”

She barely glanced down at her own hand before looking back at you. The chuckle tasted bitter on your tongue.

“You can’t even face it.”

“That’s all I’ve been telling you.” She let out a defeated sob. “Why don’t you just do it for me?”

You looked back down at her hand, and her gaze followed yours to land there as well. She hated the sight of it. It felt as though it had been there forever.

All she dreamed about was taking it off.

All you had to do was take it off.

So you did, and finally slipped the ring off her finger, holding it between two of your own.

She mindlessly watched as your thumb and index rolled it around to observe it above the steering wheel. All that pain. All that torment. All because of a single, shiny metal ring.

“Doesn’t it feel lighter?” You spoke in an attempt to pull her out of her own mind. The last thing she needed was to get lost in it.

“I…” She trailed off, looking down at her hand, and finally seeing her finger naked in what felt like a lifetime. “It does.”

You trapped the jewel inside your fist, sighing as you leaned back against the back of your seat.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well…” Your hand found the commands of the automatic windows, pushing the button to roll yours down. “Whatever you do, you take care of yourself.”

Most people would have asked what the hell you were doing. If that ring didn’t hold any sentimental value, financially, it still held its own.

Not Sana, though. She didn’t seem phased by your action as she watched it land who knows where.

“Wait…” She trailed off, rewinding your words. “Are you not going to stick around?”

“I did all I could, Sana.” You started, your eyes focused out the open window as a breeze helped to dry off the tears before they even formed. “I kept my word and helped you. I took it off. But you’re gonna need to face him yourself.”

“But I can’t do it alone—“

“You have to.” You snapped, turning back to look at her. You ignored her lips parted in surprise, and continued. “If what I’ve learned about you in this short time is true, it’s the only way you’ll ever be free.”

“What have you learned?”

“Nothing.” You scoffed. “That’s why you have to do it. You’re the only one who actually knows how to deal with this. I can be by your side all you want, but I’ll never be any help. No one ever will.”

Your rant caused a small sob to escape her lips, and she ignored your surprise when she reached for your hand. You could only let her again, allowing yourself to relish in her touch and find pleasure in your body’s reactions to it.

You looked down at your joined hands, watching her intertwine them. You found yourself responding to her touch, your fingers closing around hers.

“Then at least stay.”

You softly caressed the top of her thumb, giving yourself some time to actually think before agreeing this time.

“On one condition.” You said, finding her eyes.

“What is it?”

You glanced down at your tangled hands.

It was an insane thing to look at. To feel. It didn’t make any sense. You’d only met her three days ago. You’d only spent an afternoon, part of an evening with her.

Yet so much happened. So much was felt.

You blinked, and her hand was still in yours. It felt good. But it lacked warmth.

It was telling.

At that moment in time, deep down, you knew this wouldn’t last.

Maybe you’ll part ways right after she’d break the engagement off. Maybe you’ll date and break up once you realise it was all comfort and reassurance disguising as love and affection. Maybe she won’t even break the engagement off.

Whatever the reason, you knew you wouldn’t see her at your wedding.

So you had to make one last thing clear.

“I keep the moonflowers.”

[cactusnymph]

first kisses for bloodweave or wyllstarion? 👉👈

Astarion cannot believe that he somehow ended up with two people who couldn't for the life of him seduce no matter how beautiful or enticing or alluring he makes himself. Well, to be fair, his allure is absolutely working. It's not like he's an idiot who can't tell when people find him attractive. But he's not used to people deciding to abstain from their impulses to. Be mindful of him.

It's frustrating and Astarion hates it.

He knows that Karlach wants to bend him over the next table and he can see the way Wyll swallows heavily whenever Astarion lounges half naked in the sun and yet neither of them do anything about it.

In fact, neither of them even kissed him so far.

They keep kissing each other, which Astarion doesn't care about, of course. They can do whatever they want. It's none of his business. Of course, they keep inviting him to sleep with them at night—the non-sexual, quite literal type of sleeping— and more often than not he can feel Karlach's godsdamned hard-on pressing against his ass but she never acts on it.

Sometimes she mumbles an apology and shuffles around as if she's trying to be respectful of his boundaries or some other ridiculously soft and gentle thing she has going on in her life. Astarion wants to strangle them both. He also wants to kiss them and that is new for him, because that's not what he does.

Of course he's kissed hundreds of people over the course of two hundred years, tasted their lust and their shallow adoration, but he never really wanted to do it for himself. Was never really into any of the kisses.

And now his lips burn with how much he wants it.

Astarion wants to stab the two of them. Well. Maybe he wants to kiss them first, then stab them, then shout at them and then kiss them some more before doing even more stabbing. Why in the Nine Hells must he punished with this amalgamation of feelings as if he doesn't have enough shit to deal with without any of those?

While Karlach is out with Gale, Lae'zel and Tav to find the Creche Lae'zel keeps hissing about Astarion stalks through the camp at night, feeling restless and on edge without really knowing why. Halsin is snoring loudly over in his tent and Shadowheart is fast asleep next to the fire, curled on her side with her cheek squashed against her own hand.

Astarion doesn't want to go to Wyll's tent. He doesn't.

It's simply his turn to take watch and he wants to make sure that the perimeter is clear, so he walks around camp to check on all the tents, even the empty ones. Seeing Karlach's stupid stuffed bear sitting on her empty bedroll makes something inside him pull tight and he snarls at the bear as if it is the single cause of all of Astarion's misery.

It turns out that Wyll is not, in fact, in his tent.

He's not panicking. Not at all.

And if he walks a little faster to see if he can find Wyll over by the lake, then no one has to know. It's not like anyone can see him right now anyway.

He stalks over to the shore, shoving aside the memories of going skinny dipping with Wyll and Karlach, of them holding his hands to make sure he feels safe, and looks around for Wyll. His eyes find him quickly by another fire he lit close by and all Astarion can hear right now are the crickets, the soft lapping of the water, the crackling of the fire and Wyll's feet moving through the dirt as he practices some sort of dance.

Astarion watches from the shadow for way too long to justify that he's here for the camp's safety and because that pisses him off he finally steps out into the light. His heart does not stumble when Wyll looks at him with a soft smile.

Astarion crosses his arms in front of his chest and raises an eyebrow.

"What are you doing over here?", he wants to know.

"Practicing my dance moves for my partner", Wyll says. And Astarion knows, of course he knows that Wyll is talking about Karlach.

"Oh? And who would that be?", he asks despite of himself because apparently his self-control was lost at the bottom of this fucking lake when Karlach carried him around in it bridal style with a smile on her face that rivaled the fucking sun.

"He just arrived", Wyll says and quirks his lips and Astarion feels like his stomach is dropping out of his body when Wyll holds out a hand for him and does a silly bow. Astarion should scoff and make a snarky comment about this. But his mind flashes back to silly fantasies when he was young about a handsome prince holding out his hand just like this and asking Astarion to dance and.

He swallows heavily, the casual smile wiped from his face as he stretches out his hand. It almost feels as if he's lost control over his body which is scary because it reminds him of how Cazador used to pull him around like a puppet. But this is not Cazador, this is Astarion's own stupid desire and his fucking yearning and whatever else lurks underneath his cold, dead skin.

Wyll pulls him in and it's ridiculous how easy they fall into the right steps, circling each other slowly while their hands never stop touching. Astarion wishes Wyll wasn't this handsome, that his hand touching Astarion's wouldn't feel as electric as it does.

Wyll's eye never leaves his face while they dance and Astarion's heart that stopped beating so long ago feels as if it might just burst out of his fucking ribcage.

Wyll's gaze absolutely drops down to Astarion's lips. But he doesn't do it. Doesn't lean in for the kiss, doesn't chase his desire like any other normal person would because Wyll is a goddamn knight in shining armor, a prince on a white horse, the most respectful gentleman that ever walked under Faerûn's sun.

Astarion has had enough.

He can't take it anymore.

Wyll's eye widens when Astarion grabs his face with both hands.

"You are—the most infuriating—", he hisses and then he lunges. Wyll makes a sound at the back of his throat when their lips finally, finally touch and Astarion presses closer, licks along Wyll's bottom lip before pushing it into his mouth.

Fuck, it's so good. And it's even better when Wyll kisses back, his hands gently carding through Astarion's hair, stroking down his back, carefully finding a place on Astarion's narrow hips.

Astarion doesn't even know for how long he wanted to kiss Wyll, but it must have been for a while. His whole body is on fire and fuck, he doesn't want to stop, but of course. Of course Wyll pulls back and his eye is glossed over, his lips wet from kissing and the smile he gives Astarion shouldn't make his knees weak. But gods. It does.

Astarion has to kill them both for making him feel this way.

"You dance beautifully", Wyll says, his voice hoarse. Astarion wants to laugh and cry at the same time.

He scoffs and steps back, looking away as if he's completely unbothered by what just happened.

"You could use some more practice", he answers and Wyll laughs and bows his head.

"Hm", he hums, still smiling softly. "Are you offering to teach me?"

Astarion opens his mouth because fuck, that was smooth. He doesn't know what to say.

"I—Get back to your tent!", he hisses and stomps off with his cheeks burning and his heart stumbling.

feel free to send me more of these<3