#but this shows coloring is not on my side

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝑰𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑶𝒏𝒆*

Pairing: Snake!Hybrid Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Snakes! Mentions of Blood/Stitches, Fork/Split tongue, Oral(F), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Biting, Two Dicks (kinda double P), Sorry for any mistakes or Missing warnings!

A/N: My animal knowledge really shows here😂

Series Master List

-🖤

It was rare to see snake hybrids. A lot of them hid in fear of how others treated them. Humans were mean creatures, especially to things they fear. They knew that all too well, so seeing a snake hybrid brought into your adoption center was strange. His scales were flakey, eyes stuck with shed. You could tell whoever had him didn’t treat him well.

No one wanted to be near him most of your colleagues staying away some even squealing. However you weren’t scared, did you like snakes? Not particularly, but you knew he needed help. When you approached him in the little container he was in he hissed. You quickly shushed him picking him up to take him to the sink area. You had run him a small bath, just some water for him to soak in. “I can’t believe you’re touching that thing” someone streaked at your side.

“It deserves the same amount of love and compassion as any others here” you retort looking down at him. You cleaned him up helping the stuck shed off before putting him back with a heating lamp.

“Y/n will you take it home?” Your manager had asked.

“Why don’t you want it here?” You glared.

“Listen, most of us don’t like them. He’s probably not gonna get adopted and we also aren’t equipped to take care of him properly. You at least seem to know what you’re doing.” They rambled.

You looked back down at the snake who was now curled up by your hand. “Fine, I’ll take it home, however.” You said with a small pause. “He’s mine as soon as we leave and I want the next few days off to take care of him and help him settle.” You stated.

“Of course-“ your manager started to say before you interrupted him.

“Paid” you said sternly.

With a sigh knowing he wasn’t gonna win he agreed just wanting that thing out of the building.

You put him in your spare room, getting the necessary stuff for his set up. You watched as he explored smiling to yourself. “Listen, I know you understand me. So whenever if ever you wanna become human. This room is yours. You have free roam where ever. You’ll be safe here, and taken care of” you kept talking.

He laid under the heating lamp listening carefully. If he could laugh he would. He’s heard that before. Knowing damn well his last owner started off with “love” but quickly forgot about him. He never got comfortable enough to turn so what made you think he would here he wondered.

As days went on you grew fonder of him, seeing some of his goofy personality shine through. His scales looked a lot healthier, a beautiful dark shade with glints of goldish color in them. They matched his beautiful piercing gold eyes. He hissed at you a lot however never making any attempt at striking. After shifts at work you’d pick him up out of his tank, laying him on the couch as you watched tv. It was one of these nights that it changed.

You had done your normal taking him out laying him on the couch with a heating pad beside if he got to cold. He stayed there as you cooked dinner only to be startled from his sleep by a crashing sound. He could smell blood in the air his fork tongue flickering at the scent. “Fuck!” He heard you yell from the kitchen with a bit of rustling. He was scared something had happened that someone broke in. In his panic turning ‘human’. He ran into the kitchen only to see you on the floor holding your hand that was gushing blood.

“What the hell happened?” He said making you jump. He looked at you realizing he was ‘human’.

“You turned?” You said almost excitedly.

He couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh “that shouldn’t be the focus right now, you’re literally bleeding” he said before grabbing a clean towel to wrap it around your hand.

You watched him looking over his features. He had a sharp jawline, slim but muscular physique, those gold eyes even prettier. When he started talking your eyes found themselves on his pillowy lips. You could see the small peak of fangs and to your surprise his tongue was split. You were just in awe taking him in not even realizing he was talking to you. Not until he lifted your head with his warm hand. “Hello? Are you listening? You probably need stitches” he said looking at you were furrowed brows.

You only nodded eyes still scanning over him. You grabbed your phone off the counter with your other hand calling your neighbor. He came over taking you to the hospital and you did in deed need stitches.

Your snake hybrid cleaned up the mess. He finished making the dinner you were working on before it happened and sat there. Waiting. Agonizingly waiting. When you came through the door he smiled sighing in relief. “Hey! Thanks for cleaning and- wait you finished dinner?” You said surprised.

“Yeah, how’s the hands?” He said.

“Ah well it’s not bleeding anymore” you said with a laugh.

“I can’t believe you cut yourself that deep, what were you doing? Dancing with the knife?” He teased.

“No this was all just a scheme to see if you’d come to my rescue” you teased back making him roll his eyes. “Since I can properly ask you now though, what’s your name?” You asked siting down at the counter.

“Hyunjin.” He said.

“Good now I can stop calling you snakey” you said laughing.

After that moment Hyunjin didn’t turn back for the most part. Sometimes you’d fined him curled up under his heating lamp, other times he’d be curled up on the couch under lots of blankets. Your routine continued coming home, cooking, sitting on the couch with him just watching tv. Now though, he talked back. He got into the habit of curling up against you when you came home. Your body’s heat always feeling so nice to him.

You came home today more exhausted than normal though. A fight braking out between some hybrids at work. You being in the middle of it when it happened. Today honestly wasn’t as normal as you thought. All the hybrids were acting weird around you. A lot more possessive and clingy. When you walked through the door thinking about it more you realized hyunjin hadn’t came out from his tank.

“Hyune, are you ok?” You asked leaning down over the tank. When he didn’t budge you picked him up like normal his skin scales feeling warm. He hissed at you baring his fangs. “Are you mad at me?” You said softly, making him stop. He slithered up your arm before slithering down your leg. He made his way to the bed before turning back to his human like form.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m not mad at you. Ugh” he groaned. “Do you realize you’re ovulating?” He said with a loud groan.

“Am I? Is that why everyone’s been so weird today?” You questioned.

“Probably- god I don’t know how you went to work with all of them. You’re supposed to be mine” he said the end of his sentence trialing off.

“I am yours” you said quickly with out realizing your own words impact.

“Yeah?” He said looking up at you. Those gold eyes had a hint of something in them. “Then let me make you mine.” He said before grabbing your arm pulling you to him.

He didn’t give you anytime to protest before kissing you, his lips warm softer than you’d imagine. His kiss was hungry tongue quickly making its way into your mouth. His hands came down pulling your bottoms down quickly in one swift motion. He was moving so fast, his motions only driven by need. The need to have you all his, a primal need. His sharp fangs grazed your bottom lip as he moved down your neck. It was almost like he was a little vampire with those fangs. He kissed down your body, pulling your thighs up to him.

He licked his lips looking at your dripping cunt “she’s calling me” he said with a smirk before diving into your core. His fork tongue feeling way different from anything you’d ever had before. Both the muscles moving on their own as they lapped at your folds. His fingers came up to graze against your slick before pushing them into you. He curled them hitting a sensitive spot. The moan you let out only drove him to keep doing it. To hear it again and again. Your hands found their way to his long soft locks.

“Fuck Hyune” you moaned out.

“Feel good? Gonna cum on my tongue?” He said with a devilish smile.

You nodded making that smile only grow. He picked up his speed fingers finding another even more sensitive spot. With his pace and tongue lapping at your clit your high crashed quickly over you. Walls tightening around his fingers. He licked a long strip up eyes staining into yours. He wanted to keep going, wanted to keep tasting you all over him but he needed to be inside you. Fuck your smell alone was gonna make him nut in his pants.

He stood up pulling down his pants revealing his two curvy cocks. With shock, eyes widen you blurted out “you have two?!”

He couldn’t help but laugh “yeah, you didn’t know? Thought you read up on me” he said. He took your hand wrapping it around the bigger one “this one’s the main one, and th- this one” he stuttered as your hand grazed the smaller one “this one is super sensitive like your clit” he said.

You nodded staring intently at his cocks. He leaned you back pressing his body against your kissing you deeply. He slowly pushed himself into you, the smaller cock rubbing against your clit. He let out a hiss of pleasure before his mind went. He started pounding into you mercilessly. His smacking against yours. The sounds of moans and skin smacking filling the air with the scent of sex. He had his head buried in the crook of your neck his long fangs grazing so gently at it. “I shouldn’t even let you leave smelling this good, all of them got their gross scent on you.” He hissed. “I’m gonna make sure they know you’re taken.”

His thrusts continued fast before he gripped at your legs pressing them against your chest before drilling into you. The new angel letting him hit at your cervix. “Hyunjin!” You screamed hands coming up to touch his chest. He pulled out fully before pushing hard back into you however he felt bigger. You felt more pressure in your core like somehow his cock grew a size. The pornagraphic sound he let out made your eyes snap open looking down you realized why he felt bigger. His smaller cock has slipped in, your cunt sucking both of them so greedily.

“Sh-shit I- I- fuck!” His head rolled back not being able to even speak at the pleasure. The warmth overtaking his smaller cock making it twitch in over stimulation. He snapped his hips back one more time both cocks pushing deep inside of you before you were Cumming. Cumming harder than you have ever before. His body shook at the feeling. Your walls tightening more and more around him. He gripped at your hips harshly digging his nails into you. He cried out as his release finally spilled out painting your walls white.

When you stared to squirm a bit trying to adjust yourself, the movement pushing him deeper into you making him whimper. “D-don’t move” he pleaded. You realized his smaller cock was still hard. You smirked up at him before moving away only to push back on him. He gasped almost like the wind was knocked out of him. His hands tried to stop your movement but one more push back his smaller cock was cumming.

He had the most intense orgasm, his body shook body falling to the side of you. He tried regaining his breath “I’ve- I’ve never- with my smaller” his words coming out choppy but you knew what he meant.

You pushed some of his hair back kissing him softly. “M’sorry for- I should have asked” he said still out of breath.

“It’s ok hyune honestly after today kinda needed it” you said with a smile.

“Gl-glad I could help.” He said nuzzling his head into your neck. His breathing was still heavy as you stroked his back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @jehhskz @babigriin @kkamismom12 @jeonginsleftcheek

[daisiescomelate]

Collision

Prompt: Unfortunately, Sylus decided to drop by your apartment for a surprise visit the same day Zayne agreed to stay the night.

Content: Zayne&Reader, Sylus&Reader. no proofread sorry.

masterlist

Credits rolled on the screen and you cheered with a round of applause. Zayne followed your lead with his usual lack of intention to show enthusiasm and a stoic face. As the black screen led to a final musical number with all the crew in colorful outfits, you stretched your arms over your head and rolled your neck to get rid of the stiffness of laying on the floor for so long.

The lights were down and the cortines closed to add to the atmosphere. You sang to the tune, following the choreography you knew by heart with exaggerated passion, pushing Zayne’s arm to encourage him to join you. He didn’t, of course. Instead, he straightened his crossed legs and stood with his socks over the sheets and cushions you had thrown over the carpet to get yet another extra layer between you and the cold tile.

You held a high note holding an invisible microphone to your face, throwing your head back and striking a pose. You then motion to Zayne to take the spotlight for the next line.

“C’mon, Zayne! I know you’re a good singer!” You teased him.

“I prefer to keep my talents to myself.” Mr. Too Cool To Party pated over his dress pants to shape them back into their ironed form. “And lower your volume, you’ll get complaints from the neighbors.”

You didn’t let his attitude kill your mood –but you did quiet down a little bit, just in case.

“What time is it?” You asked as the music died down and the screen faded back to black. The sudden pain and tingly sensation that took over when you moved your leg warned you not to try to get on your feet just yet.

Zayne fixed up the sleeves of his shirt, pulling them back down and buttoning them up. He flicked his wrist so he could see his watch properly, then walked to the closest window and pulled the heavy clothes just a small fraction out of the way with one finger. The sky was a dark mass sprinkled with silver dust. The city lights painted reds, whites and yellows as far as the eye could see.

“Twenty minutes ‘till two.” Said Zayne, letting his finger drop and covering the view back down again. And moving to the stitch on the wall to turn on the lights of the living room.

You blinked.

“Wow.” Almost two in the morning?

You invited Zayne over for a movie marathon. It was a plan you had been postponing for a few weeks since his schedule was often messy and unpredictable. You guessed maybe now that you had finally been able to do it you got a little bit over excited and ‘Just one more movie’ turned into this.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was this late.” You scratched your neck and felt a tweak of guilt in your chest.

“It’s okay. Tomorrow is my day off. Well… today.” You winced. Zayne rarely had a good night of sleep pulling so many extra hours at work. To top it off, you picked him up from the hospital that afternoon after a long shift and he was too stubborn to take a nap. You didn’t even want to think how long he had been awake by now. He was certainly in no condition to drive.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

The question seemed to have taken him off guard because he stiffed before squaring his back again. He coughed and turned his face to look at you from over his shoulder.

“There is no need for that.”

“You have been awake for too long for it to be safe to sit behind the wheel.”

“I can just call a cab for that.” He pulled his phone from his pocket as if to prove he could.

“How long is it going to be until you get home? Aren’t you tired?”

“It’ll be forty minutes at most.” He typed on his password and set a stubborn hand over his waist. You looked at the side of his profile, and bit your lower lip. If there was one person who was more bullheaded than you, that was Dr. Zayne.

You made an effort to stand and walked to his side, trying to pick your face between him and his phone screen to force him to look at you for a second. He ignored you.

“We had plenty of sleepovers when we were kids, it would be nice to do it again. You rarely come to my apartment if it’s not to pick me up for something.” His expression didn’t show any sign of hesitation. You decided to take out the heavy ammunition. Knowing Zayne’s weak spot for puppy eyes after seeing him give in to his smallest patiences’ trickery, you hucked your hands around his arm and with pouty lips –Zayne’s health came before dignity– you attempted an attack.

“Please? I’m worried about you.”

Zayne looked down and away from the screen when you tugged on his arm. The words he was about to say died on his tongue and after a stuttering couple of minutes, an emotion you couldn’t catch flashed across his eyes. Probably the effect of your inexperienced pleading. God, you were sure you looked ridiculous right now.

I do this for your own good, Zayne.

His expression went from startled to a frown, but you didn’t budget. You could see a hint of internal struggle, which meant that it was working, so you squeezed his arm a little bit closer to your chest and waited.

Finally, the struggle gave way to resignation and you knew you'd had won.

“Fine.” He said in a cold voice. He held the bridge of his nose with two fingers and closed his eyes with exasperation, “but let go of my arm.”

You let a triumphal smile spread across your face since he couldn’t see you and you let go. “Great!” You sang, “We’ll have to find you some clothes for you to sleep on. I’m sure I have some oversize pieces at the back of my closet. Let me look for them.”

You ran off to your room, leaving a distress doctor sighing at your back.

No more than fifthteen minutes later, Zayne was on your biggest (oldest) black hoodie, stretched and torn after so many washing cycles, and a pair of gray sweatpants that barely got to his calf. You had retrieved a back up toothbrush from a dark corner of the cabinet –still in its box–, and he was brushing in the bathroom while you finished picking up the stuff in the living room.

“You are too big for the couch, I’m telling you. And you can’t sleep while sitting down, your neck will kill you tomorrow.” One argument had turned into the next. Now you were trying to explain to a six-foot-one man how tall he was. “And you could sleep on the floor if you wanted, but my bed is big. I don’t know why this is such a big deal for y—”

The doorbell rang from across the room giving you a startle.

Shi—.

“Who rings someone’s doorbell at two in the morning?” You asked, annoyed. What a way to scare the living hell out of someone.

You heard Zayne’s voice muffled from the bathroom.

“Probably some kids playing around.” His voice was followed by the sound of water running as he rinsed his mouth.

You scolded and dropped the cushions in their designated spot over the dining chairs. With angry stumps, you moved to the small screen next to the door. The security camera showed the image of the main door of the building.

Empty.

There was no one in front of the glass windows, not even a shadow under the iridescent light of the streets.

They run off. Rascals.

You prompted both your fits over your waist. “Seriously, that’s just annoying. I don’t see how this would be entertaining for anyone.”

“You can’t take in a joke?” Zayn’s voice sounds closer than before. He had walked off the bathroom and was moving to the kitchen area with that signature faint smirk in his lips.

“Oh, shut up.” You shushed him. You heard a low chuckle and the clinking of glass as he looked for something in one of the cabinets. You turned back to the screen, bent over and squinted your eyes, paying close attention for any sign of movement. Nothing.

Fine. You will let it go this time, but next time you would teach them not to play pranks on a hunter’s house.

You straighten back up and turn around. Immediately, someone knocked on the door behind you.

“What—!” You jumped.

“What was that?” Zayne asked from the kitchen.

“I– A neighbor?” You asked, your voice full of doubt even as you said it. You turned back to look at the door.

Oh, fuck. It was the singing, wasn’t it?

You groaned and covered your face, feeling the blood rushing to your face, making it go hot.

“I told you they would complain.” Said Zayne all coky, seemingly having the same idea as you.

“Be quiet. I stopped singing a while ago, this is probably because you were being stubborn about the couch. They probably hear us screaming at each other from one room to the other.”

“Well, I don’t live here, so this is your problem.”

You sighed. You were regretting your merciful soul. Maybe you should have let him fall asleep behind the wheel so he would learn his lesson by himself. No, you slapped your face with both hands. Leave those dark thoughts. One problem at a time.

Taking a deep breath, you faced the door. You fixed your appearance as best as you could before taking the doorknob into your hand and plastering an apologetic smile into your face. You opened the door slowly, and embarrassingly showed yourself from the crack of the door.

The apology dried down in your lips and your eyes went wide when you saw the person at the other side. The shock was such that you weren't able to hold back the surprise pitch in your voice when a word escape you,

“Sylus?!”

“Lower your volume, kitten. It’s late.” He laughed and held a finger to his lips. He stood there in his whole glory, covered in black leather. His jacket opened to show a white shirt with a small stain of blood close to the hem of his neck and his golden pendant hanging over his chest. His red eyes flickering with the light of the common corridor.

You started with your mouth open and let the expression set, seemingly pleased to have baffled you stupid as he often did. What is he doing at the door of your apartment? Your blood rushed again, this time with a more displeasing feeling.

You held the door tight, narrowing the gap that let him see into the apartment as much as you could without closing it right in front of his face.

“There are cameras everywhere in this building. I told you to stop doing this. What are you doing here?” You whispered between greeted teeth, a mix of anger and alarm.

He lowered himself to be eye to eye with you, placing a heavy hand against the door. Not yet pushing it open, but to at least make sure you couldn’t lock him out. He followed you lead by whispering his next words too.

“I missed you, that’s all.” His eyes flashed with amusement. Great, you gave him a great reaction –that sight of infatuation he liked to trigger on you– and now he was hooked and ready to play you around.

You swallow the come back lingering at the tip of your tongue. Don’t entertain him. You kept your expression neutral but firm when you said,

“Not today, Sylus.”

“What, are you tired? You can go ahead and sleep, I just want to sit with you for a little bit.” He moved closer until your noses almost touched. His whispers turn into soft spoken words. “Some pests have been running around causing trouble lately. They’re sneaky and give me a little bit of a headache. That’s why I haven't been able to come and see you lately. I still need to go back to work, so it will only be for a moment. Is that alright?”

You didn’t answer, running possible excuses for him to leave as soon as possible. While he waited for your answer, something seemed to come to mind. He moved back a fraction and tilted his head to the side, curiosity in his gaze.

“You opened the door quite fast. You weren’t asleep yet?” Whatever look you gave him was enough for him to know the answer to that. He laughed quietly and straightened back up, “Are you misbehaving, kitten?”

Deciding the most efficient way to deal with Sylus was to tell him to get the hell out of there, you opened your mouth to tell him off. He would always listen to you if he saw true displeasure in your expression.

In that instant, a voice came from behind your back.

“Is everything alright?” Zayne’s tone was calm, but also somehow worried and vigilant to your ears.

At the sound of the voice, Sylus’ smile dropped. Red lights swarmed in his pupils, turning to the deepest crimson, as black as blood when you gash out an important artery.

“Who is that?” His tone was sharp as knives. Games aside, he didn’t care about keeping his words a whisper anymore.

“I…”

“Are you asking about me?” Zayne’s calm tone turned into stone.

Sylus’ gaze twitched when he heard it again. His eyes clocked on you, almost threatening. He studied you, running his eyes over you from the tip of your toes to your face, looking for something. You tensed under his scrutiny, wondering why it made you feel so vulnerable. This was the hard gaze Sylus would use with the people he considered rats tampering with his trash and ruining his sidewalk. You weren’t used to those eyes looking down on you.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“If it was the noise that bothered you, we apologize for the inconvenience. We will stay quiet from now on, we were setting on to sleep.” Sylus’ attention moved over your head as if trying to see through the door to the person on the other side. “We can talk about this more in the morning if you’d like.” When Zayne finished his statement, Sylus’ slowly moved back to look you in the eyes. There was a lingering note of danger when he repeated Zayne’s words to you.

“...The noise?”

It was as if the cat had eaten your tongue. Sylus didn’t look alright. The sight of it made your brain immediately try to recall the spare gun hiding in a drawer in the kitchen.

A hand wrapped around your arm and pushed you away from the door.

—

Zayne brushed his teeth with his eyes passively staring at his reflection on the mirror over the sink. Your voice came loud from the end of the hall through the opened bathroom door. His expression remained stoic while listening to you talk some nonsense about waiting to share the bed with him from the living room. He deemed for every word of yours to get in one ear and out the next.

Rather than pay attention to your rumbling, he moved his gaze around over your creams and trinkles next to the tap and over the shelves on the side. Your towels hung on the walls, and the tiles on the floor showed small details coloured in gold.

Your soap scented the room, the air clean, light and sweet.

His eyes returned to his double in the mirror. The hoodie you handed him had gone from black to gray from washing, and the sweat pants had a hole on one side over one of the seams. He felt the softness of the worn down fabric and the scent of the softener in your clothes.

“I don’t know why this is such a big deal for y—”

The doorbell rang. His body flinched, his shoulders jumped sending his hand a little too far into his mouth, almost stabbing his throat with the toothbrush. You cursed between your teeth, the sound softened by the distance.

He frowned. He turned his head around, over the pile of neatly folded clothes lay his watch. He reached for it with his fingers and shifted it his way to look at the dial. Two past seven in the morning. Who in their right mind rings into someone’s house at this hour in the middle of the night?

“Who rings someone’s doorbell at two in the morning?” You asked from the living room.

Zayne put down the brush and held a hand to his neck, coughing lightly to get rid of the sting of pain at the back of his throat. He ran his fingers through his hair, regained some composure and washed the frown from his face.

He went on to turn on the tap as he answered,

“Probably some kids playing around.”

He let the water run to wash as best as he could at the lack of a shower. He blindly reached his hand for a towel and got the water away from his eyes. There was still a lingering line of annoyance at whoever had almost made him choke.

The smell of you on the towel took over his system again and his mind railed back to the thoughts he had been fighting and the alarming sensation of a fluttery feeling over his heart. The echo of your words from earlier and the feeling of your body pressing against his arm flooded him again.

He pressed his heart over the fluff of the towel and closed his eyes.

The sensation of heart palpitations might just be early signs of arrhythmia.

He uncovered his face and sighed. Putting the towel away, he moved his pile of clothes over the lid of the laundry basket and walked towards the hall and into the kitchen

“Seriously, that’s just annoying. I don’t see how this would be entertaining for anyone.” You said while leaning forward with your fits on your waist and annoyance clear in your tone. He could imagine your face scrunched up and the pout in your lips and he couldn’t help the smile that escaped him.

“You can’t take a joke?” He said, stepping into the kitchen door.

“Oh, shut up.” You snapped back and his smile grew wider. He moved to look through the cabinets over the counter. The uneven sets of plates and glasses spoke of your habit of hoarding all types of stuff that called your attention for either being ‘cute’ or colorful. He was looking for a pair of glasses that wouldn’t be embarrassing to drink from while you mumbled under your breath to the camera next to the front door.

You were still so vivid at this hour of the night, singing and dancing and cursing so freely. It made him wonder about your sleep schedule and if you were lying during your check ups about getting proper rest. He was about to make a comment about it when the sound of knocking on the door startled him again.

His hands freezed over one of the glasses, almost making it fall out of the cabinet and into the floor. He heard you hold back a scream and his body tensed.

“What was that?” He asked.

“I– A neighbor?” Your voice sounded as if you were trying to reassure yourself. However the idea made sense. Your vividness had come back to bite you. The scandal had been quite a deal. Maybe it would teach you about not having to stay so late at night in the future.

“I told you they would complain.”

You bikered with him and he enjoyed it. He was usually so inclined to mind his own business and stay quiet since he never had the patience for conflict, but since you two came back to be together he had discovered how entertaining it was to tease you.

He heard the door being unlocked and seconds later yet another scream, “Sylus?!”

Zayne turned to look over his shoulder, listening attentively. The name didn’t sound familiar to him, but your tone let clear you knew who they were. A man’s voice answered, dulled by the distance, but he sounded calm.

After your initial reaction the conversation turned quiet. Since you seemed to know him and there was no other striking reaction after your initial surprise, he felt he should be inclined to think that everything was fine. However, he couldn’t shake the wary feeling on his chest.

He put two glasses over the counter and filled them with water. Your conversation was a steady murmur he couldn’t properly pull apart. And when the buzzing of the refrigerator engine rose, he felt the urge to get closer to the kitchen door to try to catch on any word he could.

You were hunching forward with your head picking out the hall through a small opening in between the door and its frame. You held into the doorknob with white knuckles and your shoulders were tense like wire.

The light sense of instinctive wariness turned into something sharper. Then, he heard a chuckle.

A male’s voice, husky and oddly cheery, came from the other side, making the hair at the end of his neck stand on end and his gut kicked with a warning.

He walked slowly from behind you. All he could hear were the desperation in your whispers talking to the person behind the door.

“Is everything all right?”

There was a beat of silence, and all the cheerfulness had been washed away from the voice when the man. The voice was stone cold when he lashed his next question at you,

“Who is that?”

What kind of questions was that?

“Are you asking about me?” He intervened before you could give this man any type of answer.

Another beat of silence, and there was a layer of threat in the man’s voice when he said his next line.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“If it was the noise that bothered you, we apologize for the inconvenience. We will stay quiet from now on, we were setting on to sleep. We can talk about this more in the morning if you’d like.” This wasn’t a situation he wanted to muse over. You had gone completely still at the door. Zayne couldn’t figure out what kind of person this would be for you to not lash out at them by the tone he was using. He walked in strides towards the door, and he had extended his arm to pull you away by the time he heard the next question.

—

“...The noise?”

Sylus saw you disappear inside the apartment and a second later a tall figure positioned itself in front of him at the door.

He licked the sharp edge of his teeth, taking one deep breath to clear the rampage that had been set on his mind. He wanted to keep steady and not act in a rush. Who would have thought that you were actually out there being naughty while he was retained by the lame games of a sneaky dirty gang.

Sylus’ eyes were set on the man’s chest at the door since he was way taller than you. And when he felt like he had a hold of his temper again, he slowly slid them up to see the man’s face. What he found there made the last of his temper untwine and his posture relaxed. He couldn’t help but arch one of his brows with curiosity.

The doctor.

Sharp jaw, black hair, green eyes, constipated expression. It was a face he could recognize easily since he had got to see it too often in pictures and files Luke and Kieran collected for him. Someone many would call a prodigy. A cardiac surgeon at Akso Hospital, well known and respected by both his teachers and pairs. Level-headed, serious, pragmatic.

And a wimp.

Sylus’ irritability washed away from his eyes and his gaze recovered the glint of amusement.

Granted, this was the first time he met the Doctor in person, but he had seen enough of him to feel like they were old acquaintances. To Sylus’ eyes the cold expressions were nothing but a façade. It might be something that spooked others away from looking for too long in his direction, but to someone like him that wasn’t a barrier of any type. The man was actually a lot more transparent than one might feel.

Kieran had quite the hand for photography, and enjoyed capturing good images with feeling. Sylus had seen a significant amount of pictures of the shy side glance looks the Doctor sent your way when you weren’t looking. His feelings for you were clear as day, and by the light in his eyes, Sylus could tell it was an old type of love.

When he learned you and the Doctor had met when you were children the look made even more sense. It also gave Sylus some reassurance. To him it was obvious: Doctor here had a childhood crush that had rutted too deep into his heart, and after holding it in for so many years, and giving his shy personality, he was probably never going to confess in his lifetime out of the possibility of you saying no.

“We were too enthusiastic about our movie night earlier. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I presume we all have work tomorrow. It would be better to discuss this at some other time.”

With context about who your visitor was, it was clear to him that he had nothing to worry about.

The Doctor’s eyes set on Sylus and discreetly looked him up and down. Should he have known he would come to meet your childhood friend he would have chosen some better clothes. He moved his hand to cover a strain in his shirt from the altercation from earlier with his jacket. A virtuous fellow like him would certainly disapprove of his attitude, and Sylus had always considered first impressions to be very important.

The contempt in the Doctor's eyes didn’t stroke him as a surprise. What a shame, Sylus sighed. He always thought that if he played his cards well he and the Doctor could strike up a good friendship since they were both smart men and shared very similar… taste.

Sylus took a second to assess the situation. From behind the Doctor’s back, you slide him a warning glance. The poison in your eyes made his heart flutter like a teen with his first crush. Biting back a smile, he decided to show some mercy just this one time. The Doctor was not wrong, it was pretty late at night and you should take some rest now.

Leaving your eyes he moved to look straight at the doctor’. With a motion he knew his type would dislike, he lifted up his chin and looked at him from above.

“Well, I’m glad you are aware of your mistake.” His eyes deflected to you so the Doctor would catch it. “My neighbor here was too stubborn to admit it.” The Doctor’ nails pressed against the wood of the frame.

Upon closer inspection, Sylus noticed the virtuous doctor’s clothes and the way his pants barely covered his shin. Well, he had never been offered clean clothes when he stayed at your house. Favoritism games were not fun, dear.

By his expression, Syrus feared the good doctor might decide to start throwing punches. As fun as it could be to help him start a criminal record of his own, he was sure you would scold him for it. So he decided to cut the conversation short.

“Fine. I am tired myself.” He turned on his heels and looked over his shoulder to throw you a wink. “I will discuss this with my neighbor some other day, when we have both cooled down.”

If the man had a reaction, Sylus decided to miss it. The only thing that got to his ear was a muffled sound and your voice whispering the Doctor’s name.

The apartment door closed behind him with a click. He could only imagine the Doctor’s questions for you if he even dared to pronounce them.

His phone ding with an incoming message and he pulled it out of his pocket. Kieran had updates on the gangster’s location and urged him to go back to work. With a heavy sight he stepped down the hall into the elevator. The night hadn’t gone as he had planned it too, but he got to see you at the very least.

He still wasn’t worried about the doctor’s slender, well taken care of fingers and where they might try to stick to, but just in case, because he was a cautious man, he pondered if he should send Mephisto to make sure you didn’t get yourself into any trouble.

[iichfilwypj]

treasure box | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x reader ღ warnings: none! ღ wc: 757

“Hurry, get into my room before my mom sees you and starts talking your ear off!” She giggled as Percy held her hand, gently pulling her after him.

They stepped into his room, and she couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on the familiar blue walls, the car posters, and the soft gray comforter she hadn’t seen in what felt like ages.

If she loved anything more than her own house, it was being at his place. 

They sank to the floor, their backs leaning against the bed. Percy instinctively moved as close to her as he could; those two weeks she’d been away on vacation had been agonizing for him.

“Please, tell me everything. What are the beaches like?”

They started chatting, with her describing her trip and him listening carefully, asking a question now and then to make sure she kept talking. He had to admit, he had missed hearing her speak more than he cared to say.

At some point, when Percy was in the kitchen getting them some drinks, she remembered the little something she’d brought for her boyfriend. She hurried to her backpack and dug out the blue seashell she’d picked up.

It was lovely, with different tones of his favorite color and tiny white specks that sparkled. Definitely pretty. She stared at it for a while, suddenly realizing how silly the gift seemed.

Come on, he could probably dive to the depths of the sea and collect a whole bunch of them. 

“Oh, what’s that?” Suddenly, the boy entered the room, setting the glasses down on the bedside table and moving behind her. He rested his jaw softly against her shoulder and peeked at what she was holding.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She tried to tuck it away again, but he covered her hands with his, stopping her. She sighed, a little flustered. “It’s a gift. It’s kind of  dumb, really… I don’t know, I saw it and thought of you-”

“It’s the prettiest seashell I’ve ever seen, love.” He interrupted her, and though she didn’t turn, she felt Percy’s smile against her neck, followed by the lightest kiss pressed there. “I love it!”

He held the gift, studying it carefully under the loving gaze of his girlfriend, who had turned to look at him.

Without a word, he made his way to the desk, opened a drawer,  and pulled out a white wood box. She moved closer, her gaze following every movement as he used a small key from the drawer to unlock it. 

“What do you have there?” She asked, her voice filled with intrigue. Percy turned to face her, lowered himself onto the bed, and gently patted the space next to him, encouraging her to sit by his side.

“Look,” he said once she was beside him. “this is like my little collection of you. Gifts, things you leave behind, things that remind me of you… See this? It’s the bracelet you made for me a few months ago! And this earring? You left it here when you lost the other one –I held onto it, just in case you ever found its match.” 

He carefully showed her each item inside: photographs from the early days of their relationship, ticket stubs from every date, and even the smallest gifts she had given him. He had kept everything, every little detail they had shared since they met.

But what stunned her most wasn’t the collection itself, but the way he remembered each detail; each memory, each moment, and even the feelings those tokens had stirred in him.

She stood on the brink of tears when he finally finished showing her everything.

“This is so beautiful, I never expected anyone to do something like this for me.” She said, watching him as he slid the seashell back into the box and set it back in its place.

“Why wouldn't I do that?” He crouched in front of her, holding both of her hands in his and caressing them tenderly.

He truly couldn’t understand it; this girl deserved the world, and anything she offered should be protected and cared for like a little piece of herself she was giving him.

“I love you, and I love everything that comes with you.” He finished, giving her hands a kiss. "Every thing, moment, and detail I share with you is a treasure -I need to keep it somewhere, don't I?"

She smiled, leaning in and wrapping her arms around him tightly. Her eyes closed as she held into the moment, murmuring a small 'i love you' in his skin. As response, he held her closer, leaving kisses in her temple.

She had always thought these kinds of things only happened in fairy tales, that guys like that didn’t really exist.

So glad Percy wasn’t just any guy.

everyone has, like, a memory box, right? RIGHT? ok but do i want to be in love or just prove that i can be loved?

[pixeltwix]

👁‍🗨Ciphertology & The Dixons👁‍🗨

Sooooo…Emma May’s family was involved in a cult, right? Let me elaborate. As a fellow creative I have been known on many occasions to forget details big and small about my own world, but names? No, names are never something I tend to duplicate unless for a very specific thematic or world building reason. So color me stoked when I was curiously learning about Bill’s cult arc in the 1950’s and found one of his first followers was a young girl with the surname, you guessed it, Dixon!!

Considering Alex Hirsch is very purposeful with things and little hints, while also leaving the audience to figure things out for themselves while he sits back and laughs, I can’t help but feel the surname Dixon is a bit TOO coincidental in this instance. From what we see, Ciphertology and the followers were a mash of a bunch of real life cult references while doing the usual Hirsch thing of filtering Bill into a concept perfectly well.

All in all it’s a very interesting thing, but what I found more interesting were the people involved. Sure you have the puppet leader, Silas Birchtree and a bunch of other out there names, but amongst sits a simple ‘Madeline Dixon’….. Alex Hirsch I’m going to screAM :D

From what we learn, after the cult is forcibly disbanded by the US government and every trace of the town is wiped off of maps and history books, the people are spread throughout the country and given opportunities to start life over again. Not everyone followed that however and some continued to follow the Bill Cipher cult. And honestly I can’t help finding myself bouncing back to the very concept that is-

What if Emma May Dixon grew up in a recovering cult family? What if her family still believed in the cults teachings like some and practiced it in secret at home? And if that is true how am I meant to feel towards the idea that her future husband, Fiddleford McGucket, would become a cult leader himself all because of the very thing that was the foundation of her own cultish upbringing?

Honestly if that’s what Alex was shooting for, I’m calling him a genius cause that’s such a fascinating idea to work with. The concept that Bill has personally affected and rooted himself so deeply into the show and it’s characters that even those we don’t get to see still have dealt with him to some degree.

It just all feels too perfect too. The surname Dixon implies enough, thanks to Alex’s upfront and to the point naming, that Emma May too is a southerner like her husband. Or at the very least she’s in that farmy side of the country. And where did Ciphertology come from? Orchard Lake, Kansas. Madeline Dixon very well could be Emma May’s aunt or older sister considering the cult began in 1952. And assuming Em’s the same age as Fiddleford and the Stan twins then we can assume vaaaaageuly that she’d be born in 1955. Meaning she’d be either growing up in that recovering environment or indoctrinated into it.

We can assume well enough then that she didn’t follow the cults teachings considering she seems well adjusted with her family, living in Palo Alto, but it also kinda reaffirms why she’d be so quick to throw divorce on the table once she sees Fiddleford’s memory wiped condition. That on top of we can only assume his behavior was alarming and erratic and a far cry from the personality of her husband that she was used to (especially when you consider bRO made a homicidal pterodactyl robot because he was so distraught and upset towards the idea of being divorced..like yeah man..that might solidify her decision my guy..)

But if she ever saw the symbol of Bill’s eye or anything in relation to him anywhere in Gravity Falls?? Especially the Society of the Blind eye symbol spray painted all over? After either learning to fear Bill or worship him in her upbringing depending on what their family did after the cult was disbanded? I wouldn’t blame her for high tailing it out of there and worrying for her and her sons life- (Fiddleford..Emma May..I am your biggest fans, but y’all have me bonkers sometimes) But also consider how most ex cult members naturally want to give the very opposite traumatic life that they lived to their child? If Emma May were to see semblances of what she relates to Ciphertology in Gravity Falls, I don’t have a hard time believing she was getting tF out of there for the sake of Tate’s well being & future

In short- hi, I now believe Emma May’s family was in a cult and the very idea of that will ruminate with me for awhile :D But also double hi?? Madeline DIxon looks vaguely similar to how I envisioned and draw my Emma May design? Coincidence, I think nOT :P

[moonstruckme]

mae, congratulations on 8k and happy holidays ahhh!!! if you have the time, i could totally see something fun with tasm! peter and the prompt office christmas party. like coworkers to friends to pining and confessions? basically it’s giving jim and pam teapot, BUT i would love to see where your brain takes it

Thank you for requesting! Happy holidays :)

cw: jokes are made about Peter's appearance, but they're very, very sarcastic

coworker!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You never usually wear red. It’s not like it’s one of Peter’s favorite colors anyway—he only really wears it for one thing, even if that’s pretty much every day—but he feels suddenly robbed having never seen it on you before. As if you’re not eye-catching enough already, your holiday sweater makes you the brightest thing in the room. 

Peter goes to it like a moth to a flame. Though, in fairness, that’s your usual effect on him, sweater or no. 

“Oh, wow, you lucked out,” he says, raising his eyebrows at your white elephant gift. 

You look up from your desk, grinning when you see Peter. “I know, right?” You hold your prize up enthusiastically, like they’re the keys to your new car and not slippers designed to look like giant man feet with a bow slapped on top of them. “Can you believe I started with a bluetooth shower speaker and worked my way up to these? I mean, Christmas is over at this point. Everyone else can go home.” 

“Those will probably be the best give you’ll ever get,” Peter agrees. He leans against your desk, careful not to disturb the pens lined up neatly by your laptop. “You really managed to land on a personalized one, too. Did you already know they made slippers that match your feet, or did you just find out today?” 

Your shoulders hitch with a laugh, pretty eyes sparkling. Peter feels a warm tug in his gut. Any day he can make you smile is a good one. 

“What did you get?” you ask him. 

“Oh, mine came from the boss man himself.” Peter reaches into his small gift bag, pulling out his prize. “Check this baby out.” 

Your smile stays in place, but you look genuinely perplexed. “A toothbrush?” 

“Not just any toothbrush.” He presses a button on the side, watching your face as a song begins to play from a small speaker. Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…

Your mouth actually drops open before you cover it with a hand, giggles muffled into your palm. “Okay, wait, wait. I actually want that one now.” 

Peter hisses through his teeth, shrugging remorsefully. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can part with it. It’s too important to me. Anyway, you’ve got your slippers, and they suit you so well…” 

“Right, but” —You school your expression into solemnity. Peter has to work hard to suppress his own grin, thinking to himself that you look like a contestant on that Shark Tank show— “have you considered the potential of these slippers in your love life? I mean, I’ve already basically got it covered with my feet, but Peter…” You hold the slippers up, letting them dangle from a single finger. “These could be a real babe magnet.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, pretending to consider it. “That’s true. I could use a little help on the dating front…” 

“You could,” you say sympathetically. 

“I mean, my looks on their own are hardly doing the job.” 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t all born naturally attractive.” 

“I am pretty plain…” 

“Homely, even. But that’s alright.” You hold the slippers out again. “That’s where these come in.” 

“Okay.” Peter feigns reluctance, handing over the toothbrush. “You’ve got a deal.” 

“Yes!” Every hair on his leg stands at attention when you put your hand on his knee, squeezing. You’re smiling beatifically. “Thank you, Peter. This means the world.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing me a favor too.” He sets his hand on top of yours, squeezing also. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Your eyes drop to your hand as if realizing where it is for the first time, and Peter pretends not to notice when your eyes flicker up to his, the teasing in them giving way momentarily to bashfulness. He got the best gift today, for sure. 

[rockinmusicquarterly]

my voices :> (alt text labels who's who)

long ass design notes under the cut:

smitten

went with a sort of roman poet vibe for him with the sash and wreath, plus a nice cape for the dashing hero look, all pinned with a (unspecified) flower right over his heart

hero

his feather coating is short and rounded, meant to give off the look of puffy sleeves like a medieval prince or bard. his little head tufts are heart-shaped also

his wings are shaped rather elegantly, in an almost stereotypically "angelic" way

my mindset for him was as middle-road as possible: in height, feather length, wing size, color values, etc. truly just The Guy

neck bandana for the adventurer look, and some shoulder pads that, while offering some protection, are overall pretty unqualified for the kinds of horrors to be wrought in the construct; he's prepared, but not that prepared

while the other voices have 2 front-toes, hero is one of three voices who has 3. this is done to show he has more of a... i guess closer connection to TLQ (who also has 3), since he's there from the start and feels the most fleshed out overall

contrarian

the shortest king of them all

definitely aiming for the jester aesthetic, but in what i hoped was a more subtle manner? his head tufts are the general shape of a classic jester's hat, along with all the bells he's adorned with - you can hear him coming from a mile away. wears half of a comedy mask bc (gestures) he's Like That

his wings are tiny and cartoonishly shaped, only able to lift him off the ground out of pure looney tunes physics. his whole thing is just rounded, playful edges

3 front-toes like hero, showing how he grows somewhat out of his titular role in the strange beginnings ending, becoming more of his own person than just a singularly-defined Voice

cold

the tallest king of the bunch

his feather coating is a disaster, this man does not care about preening himself & it shows. lots of loose feathers sticking out and ruffled in every possible spot

the last of the voices with 3 front-toes: the cold seems to have an (albeit implicit) understanding of the TLQ's (and to an extent his own) role as a deity, finding familiarity in the textured nothingness - though, he isn't as "special" as he'd hope

the giant wings give him a more imposing presence despite his twig frame, i imagine him sometimes wrapping himself in them like a big cloak

his scarf is positioned just so to make the scar over his heart (matching the spectre's of course) an open target - as if giving one the invitation to make him feel Something

opportunist

this one was where i wanted to start adding design parallels between the canonical voice "pairings" in the game (consumption & betrayal, pain & unfamiliarity, etc.) so he and the hunted share some design elements

they both have little utility belts, but the opportunist carries on him nothing but a poorly concealed blade - looking out ultimately for himself in the long run

lil braid cause it's cute, and to me has the sort of sleek, tidied-up vibe of someone who wants to come off like he knows exactly what he's doing

i think his wings are on the larger side, but he generally keeps them pinned under his clothes to make himself appear non-threatening

hunted

verrry dirty with lots of loose leaves and branches stuck in his feathers. he can try to wash them out, but they're always back before long. dirt boy (affectionate)

has a utility belt like the opportunist, but he uses it to carry a pouch full of various goodies & medical materials - always trying to look out for everyone else, concerned most with group survival

unlike the opportunist who can pull them out whenever he wants, the hunted's wings are fully pinned beneath his cloak & rendered unusable. something something about how his instinctive fears keep him from reaching his full potential?

(though given what can happen in the den maybe it's best he keep that potential unfulfilled lmao)

digitigrade legs are cool :>

cheated

like the razor, he's all sharp edges and angles. he's covered in jagged scars outlining the general spots where the razor chops TLQ up, along with some other missing chunks around his tufts & limbs

(at first i wanted to have some of them look like autopsy scars, but i couldn't quite get the shape right & it was just too much visual clutter 😔)

covered in bandages similar-looking to the contrarian's wrapping things, though they don't do him much good in the long run

not as short but still short king. free my man he did nothing wrong

stubborn

while the cold is slightly taller than him, he's overall the biggest of the bunch

the only one with pants (skirt) privileges because i know in my heart he's the guy who has to be convinced into wearing a shirt. his is adorned with a few of his own feathers

scarred all over, including his wings which are pretty much broken beyond use from all his fighting. he doesn't care - it seems fairer overall to stay on level ground alongside his opponent(s). unlike the broken's wings, stubborn's are flared out despite their damage - essentially saying, "come at me"

lil ponytail cause it's cute

skeptic

both to match the smitten's general look and to try something a bit different from the classic detective vibes, i went with a sort of vampire hunter look for him? not sure how much sense it makes but i think it looks neat

while the smitten's sash is large and goes right over his heart, the skeptic's utility belt avoids it altogether - skepticism vs blind devotion yadda yadda

always carries the pristine blade in a little holster, since he refuses to let TLQ go on without it in all his main routes

on the taller side compared to the smitten

paranoid

in contrast to the cold's unpreened disheveledness, the paranoid is ridiculously overpreened, giving his feathers a messier, plucked shape

(i wasn't brave enough to draw them but i know in my heart he's got some bald patches)

has a big, splotchy scar over his heart with little blood vessel/nerve lines diverging off of it - his route has TLQ dying of "fright" (something usually associated with a heart attack), compared to the cold just skewering himself

his little cloak-thing is torn to shreds, trying and failing to hide his heart - while the cold leaves his purposefully vulnerable

short(ish) king

broken

my beloved <3

very disheveled, though not as bad as the cold or paranoid. he's generally too miserable to worry about caring for his appearance, but is more open to the effort than the cold (and less neurotic about it than the paranoid)

clipped talons and nails

has a shackle around his neck for the obvious pet/prisoner imagery from his route, and one around his ankle on the opposite side & limb from where the princess is usually chained up

he's scarred up, but in more i guess "deliberate" places than the stubborn. one near his neck reaching to his heart, one winding around his midsection, and one on the back of his knee

his wings are broken & unusable like the stubborn's, also open though in a more subdued manner, showing the openness of his pain & vulnerability

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: attempted baby trapping, detailed writing about burns and scars.

Mother says she was the first witness to your very first steps. 

Surrounded by four newly renovated nursery walls—painted her favorite pink and adorned with decorations Dad hung for a pop of color. Stuffed animals everywhere, even a 43-inch-tall dollhouse waiting to be discovered.

But, of all the toys, that chubby baby girl determinedly balanced herself on her awkward legs. Mother said you smiled widely, showing a toothless grin and extending your tiny hands forward. Eyes wide open when you almost fell, yet the stubborn baby refused to give up until you reached your mother's arms.

Maybe you simply saw something you wanted. Your mother.

How odd. The thought that you ever wanted your mother is an absurd notion. Because as Simon's car sped off, leaving the manor behind you, all you felt was a sense of relief that you had once again escaped her.

Maybe you wanted your mother only when she wanted you too. Lately—for the past few years after you were ten—she acted like she hated you, and children are truly just mirrors of their parents, incapable of hating before being hated first.

Or maybe—so many maybes when it comes to her—Mother didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t intend to instill this distorted image of yourself with every drop of poison she poured on you. Maybe she simply lacked the knowledge and skills to be a mother, lacking a positive role model from the start.

But intentions mean nothing compared to the outcome, the fed-up rational voice asserts. It doesn't matter if she didn't mean it, because in the end she hurt you. The difference between love and hate becomes this fine line that eventually fades and mixes the two together.

It doesn't matter if she didn't mean it this way at first, because the first time turned into the second time, then the third and suddenly now it's the thousandth time. She breeds her pattern and uses it to make you suffocate. And when you try to break free, she looks at you like a disobedient child full of rebellion.

The sickening optimists will tell you to look on the bright side—that it shaped you, made you the woman you are today. But back then, you were a child—you would have grown up inevitably, so going through all that was just an unjust burden.

(All adults do is cause pain, the little girl said.)

Some crackling radio tune played softly as Simon drove in silence through the dark, winding country roads. No questions came—which you were thankful for; you weren’t ready to unpack all that long history just yet. His brown eyes were locked in focus as he steered the car around the turns as if he’d been through this before.

The car slowed and rolled to a stop outside a sprawling two-story building. A pub—from the weathered sign carved on its old stone. Different from the ones in London, of course, this one's cozier and more inviting. Gazing out the rain-spattered window, you squint and see another sign above the door: “The Fox and Hounds Inn.” So they also offer rooms, it seemed.

Simon turned off the engine and twisted in his seat. Reaching behind, he snatched up the suit jacket he had thrown back there earlier. Turning to you, he held it out, signaling you to take it.

“Cover yer ‘ead.” He nods towards the pouring rain outside.

You took it, breathing in Simon’s scent—a hint of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke—as you draped it over your head as a hood. The sound of the door being opened roughly is heard. Simon has rushed out into the downpour and retrieved your bags from the trunk. Slipping from the car, you hurry to take shelter under the pub’s roof, waiting for Simon before going through the door.

The inside of the pub was surrounded by warm hues. Old wooden shelves stood displaying a variety of bottles of spirits, with low lights casting a dim glow. Worn leather booths were occupied by a few locals who had settled in with their pints, while two others shot pool in the back corner. Behind the bar, the bartender paused from wiping glasses; a questioning look flashed across his face before smoothing it once more.

He set his glass down and asked, "What can I get ya?”

“Bourbon. Kentucky, if y’ve got it.” Simon said.

The bartender cocked his head, checking his stock. “Aye, we’ve a bottle or two left.” Turning back to him, he asked again, “Anyth’ else?”

Simon turned to you. “You want anything?”

“I'm alright, thanks.” You answered in a husky voice.

“Just the bourbon then, and a room for the night.”

At that, the bartender just nodded, reaching beneath the bar to produce an iron key, its number as a keychain. “Room six, up the stairs and to your left. Let me know if you’ll be wantin’ breakfast in the morn.” He explained with efficiency, all business, saving more time from nonsense.

The heavy wooden stairs creaked underfoot as you climbed to the room. Reaching the door carved with the number six, Simon twisted the key and pushed the door open. He set the bags on the old table by the window, leaving your suitcase beside it.

Glancing around, you took in the faded floral wallpaper, lumpy bed, and worn armchair—not fancy, but it would do for a night’s rest. You wandered around the room, stopping when you passed a mirror—your own reflection with mascara tracks smeared across your cheeks, lipstick smudging past your lip line.

“Did I just walk around like this all afternoon?” You wiped away the dark trails, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere for exactly the reason why. That or it was just you and your guilt for dragging Simon into this unplanned mess.

The effort fell flat, much like your numb heart. Simon was still wound tight as a spring, with the venomous words of that woman replaying in his mind. However, your own perspective perceived his distant attitude as anger. Mother would often give you two days of silent treatment whenever she was upset, so you presumed it was the same case with Simon.

You nearly jumped from his grunt. Out of the corner of your eye, Simon took out his cigarette and lit it, always paying no attention to where he was smoking. Taking a deep drag, he let the smoke curl slowly as he exhaled towards the ceiling.

The bathroom door creaked open at his touch; Simon gave it a sweep of his eyes to access the condition of it—nothing but the basics; thankfully, the shower worked. He turned then, coming over to where you were sitting on the lumpy mattress.

“Shower,” he rumbled, jerking his head towards the bath. “Get that rainwater off ya.”

(You’re angry, aren’t you?)

The conclusion was drawn after his tone sounded colder than normal—his words were curt, as if he didn't wish to waste breath on you. While a part of you argued this was just the way he spoke all the time, another louder voice suggested there was more going on. His brown eyes held a deeper stirring, a visible frown etched into his features. Simon would likely extend the silence if not for the concern that you would trouble him more if you fell ill.

It hurls you into this desperate need to win him over, despite being uncertain if there's an actual competition to be won. You struggle to contain the age-old, desperate question, but you are known to be a failure at everything.

"Are... are you angry with me?” The question leaves you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

At that, Simon's blonde eyebrows furrowed. "What?" he asked, sharp. Like he's offended.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you struggled to lift your gaze, meeting his stare. “I just… are you angry with me?”

A scoff, then—

“No.” Simon replied curtly. “Why the bloody ‘ell would I be angry with you?” he added, then chastised himself when the words came out harsher than intended.

But the prejudice had seeped into your pores, causing your shoulders to tense and your head to hang low. You hated this—hated feeling like an over-sensitive child, upset over nothing, easily hurt by everything. Lifting your head, you tried to blink away the pricking tears pooling in your eyes.

Simon lets out a hushed sigh before squeezing out his cigarette and sitting down next to you, the bed creaking under the new weight. Outside, the leaves rustle in the cold night breeze. Within these four walls, you both sit side by side in silence.

“I ain't... that is... I’m not angry. Not with you, at least.” He tries to sort out his words. Something kinder but ends awkwardly—nonetheless, acceptable.

A few tears escaped and rolled hot down your cheeks before the blurry world came back into focus. You raised your eyes to his.

“I'm sorry,” you say, almost a whisper. “I'm such a crybaby, I know.”

“None o’ that now,” Simon soothed you, timbre as soft as talcum powder. “Ain't got nothin' to apologize for.”

As he said that, he used his thumb to catch your tears, wiping them away gently, almost as if he didn't want another to stain your cheeks. And under his touch, you became still, like obedient clay waiting to be molded by him. You existed solely for him, willingly presenting your skin as a canvas in case he wanted to brand his name on you. Make me yours, your cheap little heart begged; make me yours until I forget who I am.

(Grant me an identity that isn't me.)

I will shed the pieces of myself now like outgrown armor. The nights are prone to the past—never quiet—and I don't like that.

(Give birth to a new me. Someone who isn't what remains left of that little girl.)

The universe explodes another big bang, and your new world is created as you settle on his lap. So sudden you don't even remember crawling towards him. But as your lips crash into his, devouring his moist flesh with your own in an effort to mold it into one, it no longer matters how. Your teeth clamp down on his lower lip, drawing out a grunt as you bite down lightly and feel the taste of his iron against your tongue. Blood-eater woman.

Your hands cup his jaw, tracing the strong, defined bones beneath the blanket of skin. Then, you drag them down to his thundering neck, following the faint pillars, the curve of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of scar tissue from over-healed wounds.

Simon gasps into your mouth as your hips grind against his, stoking his lust even higher and swelling his cock. He grips your sides, guiding your movements as you seek balance with your grip on his broad shoulders. You moan, pressing your upper body against his face, and he inhales all your scent like he's been deprived of oxygen for ages.

Your desire drips so easily onto your tongue.

Practiced in the efficiency you learned from him, your fingers unbutton his shirt one by one, watching more and more of his skin exposed to you as you unwrap the white fabric off his body.

Simon trailed his tongue down the satin of your dress, tasting it against his gustatory system like a mindless dog. He closes his lips around your erect nipple. Blindly, his digits reached for the laces on your back, tugging it with one unsuccessful pull and two successful ones. The dress undone, your chest completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Simon wasted no time in latching his mouth onto your breasts.

“Ah-! Simon, Simon… slow down.”

You attempted to accommodate his face in your small hands, urging him to meet your gaze. When did you grow accustomed to searching—to decipher the meaning behind his every look, searching for a reflection of your own feelings in his eyes? Hoping to find evidence that he wanted you just as deeply as you yearned for him.

From the moment we first met, Simon had been a confounding puzzle, a conundrum without any clues or leads. An enigma, the deep forest at dusk. He revealed so little, yet, that very scarcity only piqued your curiosity further—inviting the solver girl within you to unravel each layer, to explore every wrinkle in the intricate tapestry that was him.

“I… I want to lead. If that’s all right.” You whispered, looking for disagreement in his gaze.

None, just a gentle squeeze on your hip. He nodded, then, “Alright, love.”

At that, your eyes sparkled, you gave him a smile in return. Biting your lip, you pondered your next move. “Lay down for me.”

Without hesitation, he did as you asked, settling back against the pillows. The roughness of his form was a stark contrast to the linen, muscles rippling beneath inked skin. Eyes as dark as oak never left yours, silently urging you to continue.

Nerves danced inside you, but you chuckled, “I was gonna take this dress off all sexy-like; maybe spin around slow. But you ruined that plan.”

“Should’ve been more patient then, eh?” He said, wetting his lips then.

You sighed, half-shrugging. “Well, I don’t know what sexy moves I can do now.”

“Don’t matter none. You’re always a sight for sore eyes.”

The boldness of his words causes you to throw your head back in laughter. “Are you saying all this just to get laid quicker?"

Simon lets out a raspy chuckle. “Nah,” he watches his own hand travel up your thigh, giving it a squeeze and rubbing slow circles with his thumb. Looking back up at you, you feel your heart skip a beat. “I’m sayin’ it cause it’s the truth. You are the most fuckin’ gorgeous creature I ever did lay eyes on.”

The plum of your lips is pulled into a shy smile. You replay his words in your mind like a wrinkled tape, your soul made to sparkle and float on clouds. He called me gorgeous, you thought.

Simon called you gorgeous—despite everything your mother led you to believe. Despite her words that left you feeling like an hideous being, a flawed and misshapen creature crafted by the hands of an unforgiving God. But he said I was gorgeous, Mother. Most fucking gorgeous.

"Well, you're rather handsome yourself." In truth, this is all amusing—this sudden exchange of compliments between the two of you, with you still sitting right on top of his groin, in your loose dress and Simon shirtless.

But, like an opportunist, you place your finger on the sloping hill of his chest. You feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing—the stuttering of air in his lungs as you make circular motions on his bare skin. “Too bad that you always hide it under a mask.”

The diaphragm beneath his thick skin contracted faintly as he chuckled. Taking your index finger, Simon then held it between his teeth. He sucked the tip slowly and watched you through hooded eyes.

“The mask’s for another reason, darlin’,” he rumbled once he released it.

There it is again. The invisible veil now made visible, taunting you with the reminder that there's always a part of him that remains unknown, no matter how deep you try to dig or how many layers you think you’ve shed. Lately, you'd pushed the limits further than necessary, testing unseen boundaries—just how far were you willing to go, or how far would he allow before growing weary of it?

“And why is that, your mask?”

He gave your thigh another squeeze, his fingers drumming a random rhythm as he considered his response. “That’s a story for another day.” He replied.

It sounded like a promise, felt like an oath. Apparently, your heart found solace in that—in the future and the exact day that story would arrive. You smiled down at him, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, then I suppose that’s a promise, Mr. Simon…”

“Riley,” he fills in the blank space behind. “Simon Riley.”

The heart in the confines of your rib cage throbs with thrill. You smile brightly, testing the full name on your tongue. “Simon Riley…”

After a pause, your hands returned to their task, drifting down his firm torso until they reached his jeans. You made quick work of the buttons, pulling them down and tossing them carelessly to the floor, leaving him in only his gray boxers. Trying to match, you let your gown pool on the floor, leaving you in your black lacy panties.

Here you are, both bare chested, one cloth away from being completely naked. Two imperfect mirror reflections, similar yet distinct in their differences.

You glance back at him, biting your lip to hold back a giggle. His grin greets you in return, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth as his eyes roam approvingly over your form. You stand still, waiting, observing his growing impatience until he finally lets out a raspy chuckle, beckoning you closer with a casual crook of his finger.

“Come ‘ere.”

At his call, you obey like a good obedient girl dedicating her whole life to him.

Crawling onto the bed, your breasts hanging freely with each step your knees take. You stop right above his face, gazing into his warm chocolate with your cheeks blooming red.

Leaning in, you flicked your tongue out to taste the seam of his lips, drawing a soft groan from deep in his chest. Your back stretched to its maximum, arching like a harp as you became greedier and greedier and claimed his mouth completely. Your fond tongue traced his teeth, stroking the velvety softness of his inner cheeks, the contours of his palate. The pricking sensation of his stubble against your chin intertwined with the sweet wetness of your mingled saliva.

Your breasts pressed against his broad chest, the fat melting like popsicles in the hot sun. Swinging one leg across, you sit on top of him with your thighs straddling his hips, feeling the thick mound beneath his boxers from his hardening cock against your soaked panties.

As you began to grind on top of him, Simon grunted into your mouth. He slid his big hands down to squeeze your ass, kneading the soft cheeks as he thrust up to meet your clothed cunt. You moaned at the sensation, breaking the kiss but not tearing your gaze away as you straightened your spine to rock your hips back and forth.

Look at that pair of dark eyes—so devoted in their witnessing of every sway of your tits, with the gaping mouth of a hungry man. He lies beneath you, broad shoulders and thick arms corded with muscle built from the hard days of the military. Blonde hair around his chest, trailing down to his stomach and hidden beneath the tempting waistband of his boxers.

And those scars, of course. Especially that goddamn mysterious scar near his ribs. Were they created by 'bad men' or did you deserve it for the bad deeds you had committed, Simon?

Taking one of his hands, you place it on one of your breasts. Simon closes his hand around it, his thumb and index finger curling into a twist at your nipple. You let out a moan, biting your lower lip in a poor effort to keep another one from escaping you.

"Simon,” you breathed, his length twitching against your cunt.

Rolling your hips, your clothed clit rubbed against his hardness. You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly through parted lips, feeling the friction. He placed his hands on your sides, guiding your movements into a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, look at ya, darlin’…”

Bathed in the dim lighting of this inn, you were a sight he wanted to capture. Sitting on top of him like a long-gone queen reclaiming her place—the very reason for his convulsing cock, the numbing of his brain, his ears tuning out the noise of his old brain. As you continued to roll your hips, he watched every detail and seared it all in the back of his head.

The way sweat slicks and rests on the dip of your collarbone. Kiss-swollen sweet lips, tempting for him to bite or wrap around his throbbing length. Heavy eyelids and dark traces of your mascara.

Fuck, look at those puffy eyes.

Simon had endured his fair share of cuts and gunshot wounds. But nothing prepared him for the invisible grip on his heart when he realized what your cries left behind—puffy and red-rimmed like bruised berries. Fuckin’ hell…

Wanting more, you slide your lace aside. You restart your pace, gasping in pleasure at the new direct contact, the wetness of your building peak coloring the fabric of his boxer darker. The throbbing inside you begins, growing stronger the more you grind. You almost lose your pace—Simon’s large hands grip your hips to guide your movements toward climax.

The tight coil within you twists tighter. You breathe in short, ragged gasps; eyes squeezed shut as white flashes explode behind your lids. The cresting wave rises to a peak, making your thighs tremble.

When it hits, you throw your head back with a cry, Simon supporting your arched back with a strong palm behind you. The heat in your lower belly flushes as your release drips down to his boxers.

You slumped limp against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around you, waiting for you to catch your breath while he inhaled his own. Christ, your scent is intoxicating—that sweet soap you were devoted to, the perfume he often saw on your dresser, and something natural about you that made his cock throb, begging to be released from the boxers beneath you. It took every ounce of willpower for him not to flip you over and take his fill.

A gentle giggle bubbled up. Simon furrowed his brows, meeting your eyes as you lifted your chin with a lazy smile.

“That was… weird,” you said, confusion written all over your face.

“What’s weird?”

“Well, for starters…” you glanced down between you, tracing a finger along the damp patch staining his boxers and chuckling again when he hissed. “I ruined these.”

Simon chuckled, shifting his hips. “Don’t matter none though, does it? You’re gonna ‘ave them off me soon enough anyway.”

You laugh – the warm, carefree sound from deep within your chest. Cheeks flushed rosy, and you’re sure your eyes sparkled. “Okay, okay. That’s something I might do.”

Leaning down, you brushed your lips against his in almost a chaste kiss. Simon couldn't resist, prolonging it by deepening it gently. He hooked his fingers around the lace loops on your hips, giving a playful tug as your mouths moved slow and sweet.

Breaking away, he narrows his eyes at your black panties. “You can still do them sexy moves takin’ this off, y’know…”

At his words, your smile stretches from ear to ear. Muttering an “okay,” you slip off him and the bed, standing in front of him. He fixes his dark eyes on you, melting the sudden shyness and encouraging you to continue the show. Slowly, teasingly, you begin to peel down your lace, small laughs escaping your throat.

“Well?” you ask, cheeks now rosy as you pose for his eyes. “How’s this?”

“Fucking perfect, darlin’,”

You toss aside your last garment, showing off your fully naked form like some kind of high fashion model. “Your turn now,” you say, walking toward him.

Reaching for the waist of his boxers, you began easing them down as well, eager to harvest the fruits of your ministry for each other. But, as it slid off his ankle, your eyes landed on his skin, and your smile faded, realizing something you hadn't before.

Knotted, mottled skin stretched from his right hip and down the side of his shin. The scars were old, but the memory of the fire that had once caressed him was immortalized in their rugged, rough texture. You tried to avert your already teary eyes from it, but instead found more scars around his legs—some nearly identical to the ones scattered across his upper body, some others resembled surgical scars long healed.

A lump rises in your throat, but you try to smile and crawl back into his lap, trying to lose yourself in whatever follows. But the façade crumbles, and you find yourself frozen, staring at him while fighting back tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” And yet, Simon opens the door for you to broach the subject. Must’ve been something about your expression.

You briefly considered playing dumb, but your chance evaporated when a treacherous tear slipped freely. Hastily wiping it away, you took a shaky breath, focusing your gaze on the ceiling to prevent another from falling. You stared into his eyes again, and Simon saw the composure you had so carefully maintained on the edge of crumbling again.

“Those scars…” Your voice wavered, and you had to pause to steady it. “Were they from your time in the military?”

Watching those pretty lips tremble, tears marring your beautiful face, he felt a sickening clench in his chest. Part of him hated seeing you so sad, while another swelled with something akin to misplaced pride – that this angel was weeping over scars so old they had long since stopped hurting him.

Scars from battles the old Simon had fought years ago. Scars he had seen as part of his creation, marks he bore without feeling.

“Some from service, yeah. Others… more personal-like.” He said it nonchalantly. In his perspective, as proof that it didn’t hurt anymore, didn't need to numb it with ice like he did in the past—so, sweet thing, stop crying over him.

As if that were possible. He could tell you that it happened years ago, but it doesn't matter; it wouldn't lessen the pain even if your human life spanned a hundred centuries. Your tongue seared, heart sliced—someone touched the one you love with the most brutal violence they could choose in this world.

The image must have been absurd—the two of you completely naked in front of each other, yet instead of continuing, you weep over him. But now that you’ve seen it—those scars etched so cruelly and eternally upon his flesh—how do you look away?

"Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” Your voice trembled, tracing that scar near his ribs that had caught your attention since you first saw it. It stood out, raised and knotted in a way that spoke of a cruel blade—making you wince at the thought of the pain. “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Without any real weight, he said, “Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,” in a light intonation as if it were some kind of joke.

But it wasn’t. My God, you wished it was, but it wasn’t, judging by the scars.

Despite his effort, it couldn’t mask the horror he’d experienced. Your breath hitches in a sob, your hand trying to cover your mouth. Your airway constricts as you imagine how it must have felt for him then. Hanged by the ribs, feeling your skin tear from holding your weight, flesh on display like they do in a slaughterhouse.

And he still manages to shush you, drawing your head to his chest in a tight hug like you’re the one who’s been through it all.

“Twern’t nothin’ – doesn’t even ‘urt no more.”

Pressed against his skin, you seek the usual solace that his heartbeat brings. But your heart remains unsettled, a lingering question nagging at your mind and tongue, refusing to let you find peace until it's voiced.

Raising your head slightly, chin resting upon his chest, you meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "And... and the burn scars?”

“House fire during a mission.”

You know that’s not the full truth, but you don’t dare to press it, choosing to spare your heart from more details of his agonies.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said.

Simon gave a small hum in response. Reaching up, he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Then stop cryin', love. 'Urts more to see yer pretty face all red and puffy.”

The hands around your jaw bring you closer. This time, he's the first to initiate this new kiss, closing his lips around yours with almost hesitant caution. And you want to cry—you want to cry from how gentle his touch is, and yet someone has handled him in the cruelest way possible.

Here you are, bodies pressed together—chest to chest, skin to skin. You let out a gasp as he grips your ass cheeks, spreading them until the chilly air touches your soaked folds. Simon would rather have those pretty eyes rolled back in pleasure than cry; he would rather have those plump lips parted to moan erotic sounds than sob. He bucks his hips and brushes the fat tip of his cock against your entrance.

Breaking the kiss, Simon gives a slow thrust upwards, grunting as he feels your warm labia. You straighten your back to sit on his pelvis, doing your own set of hip rolls as his hands guide you.

“No more tears f’me, ye ‘ear?” He meets your eyes before lowering it to the tantalizing view of your glistening body, causing another twitch of his impatient cock. “I ain’t worth it.”

The tip of his cock brushes against your folds when he thrusts his hips once more. A small mewl escapes your moist lips, vertebrae drawn like a curve of a bow as his length slowly enters your hole.

“No—no, don’t say that. You’re—mmh!” You stumble over your words, voice shaking both from emotion and physical overwhelm. “You’re always worth it, Simon.”

Sweet thing, unaware of the effect her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheek have on a man as corrupt as him. Struggling to find words while he fills her up, trying to convince him that he's worth something.

“That so?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “Yes,”

“Yeah?”

Without waiting for a reply, he grips your hips and slams you against him in one swift thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut on a gasp as he sank home. He groans at the blissful feeling, the remnants of your last orgasm completely coating him. But he has never been a man of gratitude; the gaping hole near his ribs—right where the scar he has shown you and told you about—seems to consume every fulfillment he might have, leaving him perpetually feeling unsatisfied and not enough.

Right now, he felt utterly insufficient. His old soul was always left wanting for more. That stupid, almost pathetic desire for proof that he would never truly believe—

“Prove it then, love.”

And well, he is a selfish man after all.

Slowly, you begin to move, hips rocking sensually against him, stretching your cunt to take his cock. It’s sloppy at first, until you settle into a rhythm and set your pace. He takes in every beautiful detail of you – your kiss-swollen lips beneath the faint bite of your teeth, your skin shimmering with sweat, your bouncing tits as you ride him, and the way your walls tighten their embrace around his cock with each in and out.

“Tha’s it love, ride me.”

Your cunt fluttered at the encouragement. He traced your curves before stopping at your breasts, twisting and pulling your nipples, eliciting a whimper from your throat. Rolling your hips, you grind your clit against his pelvis. He gives a low grunt.

“A-ah, Simon-!”

Listen to that, his name rolling off your tongue like liquid sin, a constant he never gets tired of. The room temperature rises, an invisible fire burning in his groin as you bounce on his cock. Your fingers dig half-moons on his naked thighs.

The room seemed to burn, almost like reminiscent of the flames that once scorched his lower right side. But this time, the sensation that swept through him was one of pure euphoria. The suffering that had gripped him was erased, replaced by a fierce hunger to shed more than just your clothes. The overwhelming need to be swallowed whole, to reside between your viscera and become the first to be embraced there.

Like a fish out of a tank, your lips formed a perfect 'O'—an invitation he accepted as he slipped his rough fingers into your mouth and tucked them beneath the blanket of your tongue. The brush of warm flesh made his cock throb, drawing a muffled sound from you.

Simon put his free hand to continue steering your hips, maintaining their steady rhythm as they started to falter. The angry crown of his cock pulled out before slamming back in and disappearing between your plump labia. He let his ears feast on your cry, watching your eyes squeeze shut as he reached that sweet spot inside. Saliva dripped, running down the curve of your chin and down between your swaying breasts.

The ah-ah! sound becomes the only thing you can produce after he liquifies your brain into a tangled mess, trapping your tongue under the weight of his calloused fingers.

Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his length, your climax peeking and cresting, forming high waves. Simon growled through clenched teeth. Your back arched, head falling back as you surrendered to your second peak.

His grip on your hips tightened as a warning. “Off, love—fuck, ye gotta get off, now.”

You did not heed him, continuing to bounce on his twitching cock. He groaned, trying to hold back the inevitable tide of his release.

“Love,” he tries again before calling your name, his own hips stuttering.

“No, please- I’m—I’m on the pill,” you gasped—

And the lie slipped through your lips without thinking.

Even as a part of you knew this was wrong—that you were trying to trap him and you were being reckless—you kept going. Simon stopped trying to get you off him, letting you slam your hips one last time before he emptied thick ropes of seed into your womb.

Sex and your indifference to potential consequences permeated the air, screaming for your attention. A voice curses you in the back of your mind, full of snarls that you have gone too far; that you have hated Mother too much to dismiss everything she says—even the true ones—as nonsense. That you will only live to regret this.

But you have to—it's a necessity, driven by the roots that tell you to cement this bond between you. Sure, it may be born out of a desperate fantasy of your own insecurities, but you need this.

“Nothing can make them stay, my dear. Not for love, not for sex, for all your years of devotion to them, not even for their own flesh and blood!” Your mother is screaming in your head.

(Nonsense. Nonsense, all of it.)

You watch his chest rise and fall; somewhere deep within the confines of his strong ribs is a heart that beats in almost the same rhythm as yours. The dim lighting of the room you only acknowledge when it reflects faintly on the slick of his scar-littered skin. Those brown eyes stare at you beneath a canopy of blond lashes, moist lips pulled into a slight smile under his strong nose—and you return it with a wider one.

Would a child make you stay, Simon?

“Fucking ‘ell, love…” he muttered, still trying to catch his breath.

Unable to resist, you grind against his still-sensitive cock, earning a hiss and a hand on your hip to still you, making you chuckle.

“Don’t do that.” He mutters low and rough.

You nod, another giggle. Leaning forward, you press a quick kiss to his lips. “Okay, okay,” you say. “I’ll be good.”

Settling your head on his chest, Simon then pulls the blanket up before draping it over your naked bodies. You sigh in relief as he wraps his arms tightly around your smaller frame. Pulling you close, he buries his nose in your hair, breathing in your scent.

You trace idle patterns on his skin, murmuring: “My big performance is in a month. I got a special pass for you, so you better not even think about missing it.”

“The swan play?”

“Yeah,” you answered, lifting your head to gaze up at him. "Promise you'll be there?"

Promises are risky business, especially for someone like him. He's well-versed in the knowledge that when someone makes a promise, it means they're up for something that always comes along to fuck it up.

Even so, the words came out before he could stop them. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”

Hearing that, your smile threatened to widen, and you plopped your head back flat against his chest before he saw it. Wanting something to focus on, you settled your gaze on the old window at the end of the room. It was still raining outside, but it had softened. The pitter-patter of raindrops sounded more like a gentle, faint tap, reminding you of the squeaking of the bed when you were still making love earlier.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace. Then, there was a sudden urge to open up to him, created from a feeling of indebtedness to him. After all, he had been the one to step in earlier. There's still a lot Simon doesn't know about you, about Mother.

But just as you were about to part your lips, his arms tightened around you. The warmth of his touch made the courage to speak seep away, replaced by a crippling fear of ruining the moment. In the end, you clamped your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes closed as you forced yourself to let things be how they should be—unsaid.

The ghost of your mother's voice echoes in the back of your mind again. As you adjust your position, feeling the unfamiliar wetness on your thighs, you reassure yourself that this time is different; he is different. He’s going to stay. You feel his fingers gently carding through your hair, magically burning away any lingering doubts in the corners of your soul.

After everything, he has to.

The morning sun streams through the thin leaves as you and Simon get out of the car to stop for breakfast at the quaint little restaurant you came across. The chilly air still lingers, urging you to pull your cardigan tighter around you as you wait for the food to be served.

Taking in your surroundings, you notice the worn wooden floors, the mismatched chairs and tables. An old-fashioned cash register and shelves that hang various kinds of souvenirs typical of this small town and character key chains.

When the waiter—who also seemed to be the owner—placed two plates down, Simon ate without hesitation. You reached for your fork, but your eyes were drawn to the clock on the wall. Time was ticking fast—the sand in the hourglass slipping through your fingers with each second. You could almost feel the ground beneath you shifting, the earth seeming to swallow you alive.

Breakfast is over. Simon paid the bill and slipped out first for a smoke while you waited for the change. The owner disappeared into the back, leaving you standing there alone. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, the only sound filling the silence.

Casting your gaze around, you search for a distraction, something to stare at. Your eyes eventually land on the souvenir rack. And there, among the keychains and trinkets, a skeleton charm catches your eye, black and white reminding you of the one Simon hangs in his car.

The sound of the door opening jolts you back to reality. The owner returns with a handful of bills in his outstretched hand. Instead of taking it, you point to the skeleton charm, waiting for the old man to follow your fingertip before asking, “How much for that one?”

As the other door opens with the soft chimes of a bell overhead, you walk towards Simon with a barely suppressed smile. He smells of tobacco like he always does after a smoke. But, you hardly mind; all you care about is the delicate skeleton charm you hold in front of him.

“Look what I got you!” you exclaim, your smile bursting from your lips.

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed, dark eyes studying the little bone-white friend. You wait and wait for him to say something; your legs feel jittery as the small figure swings dangling between your thumb and forefinger.

“It’s..interestin’,” he says, finally taking it from you, studying it closer. “Where'd you get it?”

“The owner had it on the shelf over there,” you say, nodding towards the display. “I.. well, I saw it and thought of you. I hope you like it.”

You watched as crow's feet formed at the corners of his eyes, his mouth twitching into a smile beneath his mask. Then, Simon let out a sound—a chuckle, a genuine one which then turned into a short laugh that spread sensations in your chest.

“Thanks,” Simon said to the owner, who was standing behind the cashier with his own grin.

Then, he turns to you, his arms reaching out to wrap around your shoulders. “An’ thanks to you, too,” he says, almost a whisper, meant for just the two of you. “It’s… perfect.”

Without another word, he pulls you close, tucking your head under his chin as you make your way out of the restaurant. The birds chirping, celebrating a sunny day in the countryside. But this warmth… it’s not from the sun, not from the kinder wind. He opens his car door as he always does, and you slide inside, still with the gentle rumble of his chuckle ringing in your head.

You hoped this would never end.

You hoped—

The short trip to the English countryside was almost over; you had to go back to practice and rehearsals on Monday, and Simon had his agenda of disappearing to God knows where else. You didn’t question it; you didn’t ask anymore. You were comfortable enough with the many question marks that always seemed to surround him. He always came back in the end—that's what matters.

As you neared London, Simon pulled into a petrol station to refuel. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. The door closed, and you were left alone with your gray thoughts.

You watched Simon standing outside the car, focused on refueling the tank. Fumbling for your phone, you saw the time – well past midnight. After this, he would definitely drive you home, then disappear for weeks, leaving you to wait. He always came back in the end – that’s what matters, you kept telling yourself.

(But a man who always comes back is a man who always leaves.)

Your eyes drifted to your purse at your feet, where the other phone—the newer one, the one you bought on impulse—lay hidden. Biting your lip, you snatched it up, unlocking it and quickly checking the “Find My” app, making sure the two devices were connected.

Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself, internal debate building but you know which side you’re leaning. This is wrong, probably will do more harm than good to Simon, to yourself—but, you have to, you need this. The same old justification ringing like the old ringtone you’ve memorized by heart. You reach down and carefully drop the spare phone onto the car floor, kicking it to hide it under the seat. Out of sight, out of mind – for now, at least.

Simon slid back behind the wheel after he was done, groaning as his neck popped tensely. He turned to you, brows furrowed.

“Alright?”

Giving a faux smile, you said: “Just a little tired.”

He didn’t question further, just nodded before turning the ignition and buckled his seatbelt. “Not far now,” he turned the wheel out of the gas station. “Just a bit further an’ we’ll be ‘ome.”

The car sped back down the long road. In the darkness outside, you barely made out the shadowy landscape rushing by outside the window, just your faint reflection staring back at you. Everything seemed almost lifeless, except for the soft strains of the radio playing a late-night playlist.

Home, he said. Simon said it as if “home” were so close and existent.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[etherealeowyn]

Falling Snow - Elrond (Rings of Power) x Fem Reader

Y/n is beyond excited for the first snowfall of the season, and she takes Elrond to see her favorite secret spot in the forest.

Pure Fluff

Word Count: 949

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

Rolling over onto her side, Y/n glanced out the window, her eyes widening in joy when she noticed small white snowflakes falling from the sky. Upon seeing this, she immediately turned back over and looked at Elrond whose eyes were still shut, sleeping peacefully.

She softly kissed his forehead before whispering, “Elrond, my love, it’s the first snowfall!”

Her voice got slightly louder at the end, unable to mask the growing excitement within her.

Y/n watched Elrond’s eyes flutter open, a small smile almost instantaneously adorning his features.

“Is that so?” he asked, his morning voice breaking through the silence of the bedroom.

“Indeed! We must get up and experience it, it’s practically my favorite day of the year!” she giggled, sitting up and pushing the covers off herself.

Elrond smirked, almost laughing before he too pushed the covers off himself. He sat there observing Y/n as she walked over to the closet and pulled out one of the gowns Elrond had bought her for when the snow began to fall.

“Today’s the perfect day to wear this, I still can’t believe how lucky I am to love an individual such as yourself,” Y/n spoke, walking behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room to change.

“For the thousandth time darling, I’m the lucky one,” Elrond laughed, as he got out of bed to get changed.

Elrond couldn’t see it, but Y/n’s face had become overtaken by a rosy blush and a wide smile, as complete and utter happiness washed over her.

It didn’t take long for the pair to get ready, and before Y/n even knew it, she and Elrond were walking hand in hand, their feet crunching the small layer of snow beneath them. Y/n inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the fresh and crisp morning air. Reaching her free hand out, she delicately let snowflakes land on her skin, her keen eyes examining the varying uniqueness of the small particles.

Though Elrond enjoyed the snow, the reason for his enjoyment differed from hers. He enjoyed watching her face light up the second the sky opened and dropped intricate icy specks, and even more so, he was infatuated with how Y/n appeared when the sun reflected off the ice and shone upon her gorgeous skin.

“I wish to show you something,” Y/n said, turning her head and looking up at Elrond with a smirk, “Though I must warn you, it does take a little walking to get there.”

“Darling, I will follow you anywhere, simply lead the way,” he responded, and she eagerly began to walk through the forest, following a path that hardly could be seen after the snow had fallen.

However, it didn’t appear like she needed to see the path, since it seemed she knew the area like the back of her hand. Curiosity was growing within Elrond, wondering where she could be taking him. He figured he knew every one of the secret locations Y/n would go to clear her mind and spend time surrounded by nature, but apparently, he was wrong.

After a while, Y/n stopped, and Elrond stood there taking in the view around him. They had ventured so far into the forest that he was certain that not a single soul was even relatively close to them. He found that appealing, loving the feeling of not worrying about eyes falling upon him.

“Wait, and look,” Y/n spoke, and after the last word fell from her mouth, Elrond's jaw dropped, watching the white snow that covered the trees and ground turn a soft pink color as the morning sun hit them.

Y/n laughed slightly at his expression, proud to have found a place so pleasing to the eyes that even Elrond was in awe. Complete, genuine awe.

“This is stunning,” Elrond replied softly, almost scared to disturb the environment with his voice, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I hadn’t either, but one day I decided to venture out to find the perfect place to write, and I discovered this spot. Initially, I thought this place could be my secret, but then I realized that I couldn’t possibly keep it all to myself. I realized it could be ours.” Y/n told Elrond, and joy immediately was present in his features.

He was speechless, completely and utterly speechless. He never could predict just how large Y/n’s heart was, for every day she did something that would blow him away. Often, he felt like he was dreaming when he was spending time with her because, with all the darkness that occupied Middle Earth, she was the embodiment of light. Elrond swore to himself that Y/n had made it her mission, whether aware of it or not, to make every day of his better than the last.

Elrond took a couple of steps closer to Y/n, not saying a single word before he raised his hands and gently cradled her face. He leaned in, pressing an all-consuming kiss on her lips, that said more than words ever could. Even as a poet, Elrond knew that sometimes nonverbal actions proved to be the best means to convey how he felt.

Even though it was cold outside, his lips were warm against hers, without breaking contact, his hands moved from her face to her waist, waiting only a moment before he began to move forward until her back was flush against one of the tall pine trees.

“Elrond, you’re making me like this spot even more,” Y/n spoke, running her fingers through the elf’s hair, sending him a sweet smile.

He let out a bit of a chuckle before leaning back in again, thanking her in the most meaningful way he could imagine.

[waiting-for-motivation]

inside out

summary: Carlos is there for his girlfriend when her darkest insecurities take ahold of her.

pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

warnings: insecurities, angst, fluff

words: 1129

a/n: thanks to tumblr for being my unpaid therapist, I guess <33

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

Having some time off feels relieving as well as overwhelming at the same time. Carlos fears not valuing his free time enough, although he does everything in his power to experience a lot. With his girlfriend, he visits museums, aquariums, exciting cities and breathtaking landscapes.

Other times, they share some quality time, cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie or cooking together. When Carlos is gaming, (Y/n) is always in the same room reading. They exist in silence, still savoring the shared moments with their partner.

Today is no different, relaxing after yesterdays hiking tour, Carlos plays a new game he had been yearning to have a look at. His girl sits next to him on the couch, so close their thighs touch, scrolling through social media. From time to time, she shares some memes, also calming him whenever the game is getting too rough.

“Car?“, (Y/n) breathes, discarding her phone on the side table. Not knowing if Carlos even heard her over the sound of his gaming, she throws a cautious glance towards him. His brown eyes are already on her, concerned about the serious tone. Carlos even places his controller aside.

“Do you think I‘m pretty?“, (Y/n) asks with an unsteady voice, avoiding her boyfriend's eyes. Her heart feels like it might break her rips apart, and her breathing keeps getting tougher. Right away, (Y/n) regrets expressing her insecure mind.

Subconsciously, she starts fumbling around with her fingers, pressing her nails into the palm of her hand. It might be a bad habit, but the pain is what distracts her from her depressing thoughts. What even works better is Carlos taking care of her. He grabs her hands, warm touch halting her nervous fiddling.

“Of course, mi corazón“, Carlos answers, almost at a loss of words. Her question caught him of guard. Watching (Y/n) shrink in front of him, her insecurities heavy on her shoulders cause him to feel rather guilty. Maybe he did not show her his appreciation enough. Maybe he tells her how much he adores her too seldom.

If (Y/n) could see herself through the eyes of Carlos, she would have no doubts about her appearance. The word perfection is not enough to describe the way Carlos perceives her. He might not be an artist nor a writer, but he would use only the brightest colors for her portrait and could write an entire trilogy about everything he loves about (Y/n).

“You are my gorgeous girl“, Carlos adds and places a hand on her cheek, forcing her eyes on him. Pressing her lips to a tight line, (Y/n) regrets exposing her thoughts at the sight of her concerned boyfriend. “Where is this coming from?“

“Forget about it“, (Y/n) says in a rush, already jumping to her feet and leaving Carlos alone on the couch. But she can't escape her boyfriend, who quickly follows her and wraps his strong arms around her from behind, lifting her up.

“I‘m going to show you how much I actually admire you“, Carlos announces as he throws (Y/n) onto the couch. Her screaming turns to soft giggles because of Carlos decorating her face in kisses. His lips wander from her forehead over the frown between her eyebrows to her nose and lead eventually to her neck. Over and over again, he whispers how much he loves her, how pretty she is.

“You are all I need, mi corazón, all I want. Without you, I feel like I can't breathe“, Carlos declares his deep-rooted love to his girlfriend, kissing a trail down her arms. What causes him to halt his fondling is a quiet sob leaving (Y/n)s throat. Quickly, she places both her hands on top of her mouth, but the tears streaming over her cheeks reveal enough.

“No, please don’t cry“, Carlos whimpers in shock, watching his girl sit up with a shaking body. Out of instinct, (Y/n) turns away from her boyfriend, not wanting him to see her so vulnerable, though Carlos won't simply accept that. He hugs her tightly to his chest. Her tears quickly dampen his shirt, but he couldn't care less at the moment. “Tell me what darkens your mind.“

“I feel like I will never be enough, not for anyone, not for you in particular. Comparing myself to the other girlfriends on the paddock, I realize how plain I must be. They are naturally so magnificent, know how to handle all this attention, and treat their partners perfectly. I will never be like that. I‘m not good enough“, (Y/n) manages to say between her sobs, now wearing her heart on the sleeve, revealing her worst thoughts.

“You are enough, mi corazón. Those other girls are nothing compared to you. I would not want you any other way because I see you as you are: wholeheartedly kind and breathtakingly beautiful. You are all I want and having you here with me makes me so happy“, Carlos tries to encourage his girlfriend, caressing her back and placing soft kisses on the top of her head. Bit by bit, (Y/n) seems to calm down, though she keeps her arms wrapped around her boyfriend.

“I just believe that neither my appearance nor my personality are what you deserve“, she whispers against his chest. Having heard enough, Carlos forces (Y/n) to face him, placing both his hands on her cheeks. Their eyes meet, both glinting with tears.

“Stop right there! If I have to say it over and over again, then I will: You are what I want. I love everything you might hate about yourself. I love seeing the brightness in your eyes whenever you see a dog. I love your passion for things you appreciate. I love the little scrunch on your face when you are reading. I love the way you hide behind me when a camera is near. I love you, (Y/n), and nothing you will do or say will ever change that because my affection is unconditional.“

At a loss for words, (Y/n) just stares at Carlos with wide eyes. This sweet monolog was the deepest profession of love she ever witnessed. Her heart felt like it was falling apart moments ago, but with every word that came over his lips, the pieces found shape again.

“Thank you“, she says with a rough voice, all that crying took a toll on her throat. After wiping all the tears from her face, Carlos leans down and captures her lips in a short yet tender kiss. His smile is bright, lightening her mood greatly.

“Don‘t worry, I will always be there when you are too deep in your own head, mi vida.“

[sheerfreesia007]

Love at Lunch Time

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word count: 2,636

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: You’ve been dating Chan for two months now and have started to pack him a work lunch each day with a little extra sweet surprise for him in the form of cute love notes left in his lunch box. What happens when the boys start to realize that ever since you started dating and packing him lunch Chan now takes his lunch break seriously? What happens when they find one of your sweet notes in his lunch box?

Pabo:  Fool

The smell of homemade cooking fills your kitchen as you hum along to a tune that is nameless inside your head while you stand over the stove watching the pan as it sizzles.. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and you’re preparing meals for the work week ahead, your kitchen island is littered with containers and brightly colored lids ready and waiting to receive the food that you’re just finishing up. Snacks have already been packed and are ready to put away in each of your lunch boxes and Chan’s for tomorrow. A smile slowly unfurls on your face as you think about packing lunch for your boyfriend for tomorrow.

Ever since the two of you started dating two months ago you’ve started packing a lunch for him, at first it had been because you were worried about him not eating during his work day and now it had just become the norm for you and a way for you to show him that you love and cared about him. It was just an added plus that Chan had confessed that he loved your homemade lunches, but it also made him actually take his lunch break and look forward to seeing the meal that you had prepared for him. You enjoy making your work lunches and now that you’ve got Chan to care for and look after you’re even more excited to make him meals. It always made you feel great when he would come home and tell you that he loved his lunch and that he really enjoyed it.

Turning off the stove you begin to portion out the meal into each of the containers for the both of you just as Chan enters the apartment with a bright happy grin on his face. He had been spending time with the guys this afternoon before promising to be home for the evening to spend the rest of the day with you. Walking into the kitchen he eagerly grabs the large pan you’re holding and helps you finish dishing out the meal into the containers. When that’s done he rinses the pan out in the sink before setting it down in there, he then turns back to you as you hurriedly put the lids on the containers knowing what’s coming next. He grins fondly at you before stepping close and wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder as his eyes watch what you’re doing.

“So what little surprise am I going to get in my lunch tomorrow?” he asks softly before pressing a quick kiss to the side of your neck causing you to flinch away from him. You chuckle softly at his question knowing he’s trying to find out early what cute little note you’ll leave him. Not long after you had started making and packing lunches for him you started to leave little notes in his lunch box for him to find. They often would just be little notes with words of encouragement or just little doodles that you made for him. But now they had evolved into little love notes where you confessed how much you loved him or certain things about him that you loved and cherished. 

“It’s a surprise.” you scold him gently and he pouts at you before burying his face in your neck to nip and kiss at you trying to make you crack and relent to him. You flinch and twist trying to get away from his tickling actions as he continues to nip and kiss at you while his arms tighten around your waist maneuvering you to lay flush against him

“Tell me.” he pleads as he turns you in his arms until you are facing each other and he’s holding you up just so that your toes graze the floor not allowing you to touch down. You shake your head at him and he pouts prettily for you and you scowl at him softly knowing that he’s trying to get you to tell him what the note will say and he’s using his dirty tricks to get his way. You lean up and peck his lips quickly trying to distract him but Chan quickly follows your retreating mouth with his own, capturing your lips with his in a heated kiss. You kiss him back just as heatedly for a few moments before you pull away from him panting slightly.

“I have to finish.” you tell him softly and he pouts again at you. “And you know I don’t write your notes until the morning of. Otherwise you’ll spoil the surprise.” you chastise him gently and he sighs softly at your words.

“I know, but I gotta at least try to get you to tell me what they’ll say. I always look forward to them.” he says softly and you beam up at him feeling the love you have for him pouring into your body. “You finish up and I’ll order dinner for us before we pick a movie together?” he asks as he stares into your eyes lovingly. You nod your head at him before he presses his lips to yours once more in a sweet tender kiss before he slowly lets you down onto your feet. He turns from you and you quickly finish getting all the containers ready and put away before joining him on the couch as he scrolls through the selection of movies you guys have.

*-*-*-*

The next morning your alarm wakes you and you groan softly as you try to snuggle deeper into your warm blankets not wanting to wake up yet for the day. Chan grunts heavily from behind you and pulls you in closer to him as you both cuddle further into your bed. But just as you’re about to fall back asleep Chan’s phone alarm goes off making the two of you groan loudly.

“Why did we agree that having an alarm on both of our phones was a good idea?” you ask grumpily as you begin to rub the sleep from your eyes. Chan chuckles softly and presses a tender kiss to your temple.

“Because if we didn’t we would just fall back asleep.” he says knowingly and you grumble softly causing him to chuckle at your antics. “C’mon babe, we’ve got work to get to.” he tries to cajole you out of bed and you grumble some more before rising from your comfortable bed.

“Fine, I guess so.” you sigh out loudly and Chan chuckles once again as he sits on the edge of the bed trying to wake himself up. The two of you quickly get ready for work and soon you’re in the kitchen grabbing both of your lunch boxes to set them on the island before grabbing yours and his travel cups. As your coffee brews you pull open one of the kitchen drawers and grab the cute wolf decorated stationery pad and your favorite sparkle glitter pen. You lean against the counter for a moment silently mulling over what you want to write to him today before grinning softly and writing down your note. Just as Chan is entering the kitchen all dressed for work you’re pouring coffee into your cups. You hand him his cup and lunch box before grabbing yours, the two of you exit your apartment and you press a sweet loving kiss to his mouth before you have to go in the opposite direction of him towards the bus stop.

“I could drive you.” he offers as he chases your mouth teasingly while a grin graces his face and you smile sweetly up at him.

“But then you’d be late.” you tell him softly which causes him to shrug his shoulders at you.

“It’d be worth it.” he tells you honestly and you smile fondly at him before pressing another quick kiss to his pouting lips.

“I’ll text you when I get to work. Have a good day babe. Love you.” you tell him firmly and he sighs while nodding his head knowing that you won’t allow him to be late to work.

“Alright, love you too sweetheart.” he responds before he heads to the parking garage where his car is parked..

*-*-*-*

Chan stares at his laptop screen and sighs loudly as he comes across another issue with the song. Han sits next to him and looks over with a worried look on his face, Seungmin stands in the booth staring concerned over at Chan through the glass as he waits for more direction while Changbin and Felix sit on the couch behind Chan watching with silent shared looks between them. Just as Chan feels the tension and anger begin to rise up in him his eyes dart to the small clock in the corner of his screen and he grins widely all of a sudden. 

“Alright, take a break Seungmin. It’s lunch time.” Chan says after pushing the speaker button to be able to be heard in the booth. Seungmin stares at him shocked for a moment and Han grins widely as he turns to give a look to Changbin who grins at the younger man.

“Lunch time?” Felix asks curiously and Changbin smirks widely as Seungmin exits the recording booth.

“Since when do you eat lunch?” Seungmin asks with a scoff and Han nearly vibrates in his chair as he watches Chan roll his chair away from the desk and grab his black lunch box and exit the room with an eager grin on his face. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Seungmin asks as he turns to Han and Changbin while Felix nods his head. Han excitedly turns to face all of them in his chair as he grins mischievously at Changbin.

“So ever since Chan started dating his girl she’s been packing him homemade lunches and he’s actually been taking his lunch break instead of working through them like he normally does.” Han said conspiratorially as if it was a secret.

“Oh, that’s actually really sweet.” Felix said softly as Seungmin gags loudly with a look of disgust on his face while Changbin laughs softly.

“But there’s more. I think she leaves little notes in his lunch box for him to find. He always sneakily stores something away in his safe in here.” Changbin says knowingly as he shares a look with a nodding Han.

“We want to see the notes.” Han says suddenly and Felix frowns at his words before he begins to shake his head.

“I’m in.” Seungmin says suddenly and Han and Changbin grin widely at the younger man.

Just then their leader enters the recording studio and they all turn to him silently. He’s not paying attention to them as he looks down at his phone with a soft smile on his face while his fingers type away on the keyboard. He places his lunchbox down on the desk and Seungmin swiftly flips it open, surveying the contents before his eyes land on the cute wolf stationery with sparkle handwriting on it. He quickly snatches the note and Chan looks up with wide shocked eyes.

“Give that back Seungminnie.” Chan says almost sounding threatening as Han and Changbin quickly stand to help their friend. Seungmin looks over at Chan quietly before he grins and rushes out of his reach as the older man lunges for him. Chan tries to chase Seungmin around the studio while the younger man dances out of his reach with help from Han and Changbin keeping the note away from their leader. Changbin finally has the note while Han and Seungmin hold Chan back as he watches Changbin with avid eyes trying to make sure the note doesn’t get destroyed.

“WHAT IS GOING ON!?” sounds your voice loud and clear making all of the men whips their heads to Felix who is holding up his phone with you on a video call. Instantly the younger men let Chan go who rushes to Changbin and carefully grabs his note from the man before stepping back over to his desk where his lunch box is still sitting. “I didn’t stutter.” you say scolding the younger men who all duck their heads in embarrassment.

“Noona, we just wanted to see Chan’s notes. He’s been actually taking his lunch break ever since you started packing him a lunch and Changbin and I started noticing little slips of paper that he’ll save from his lunch box. We got curious and wanted to see what you were writing to him.” Han quickly explains and Changbin makes a noise in agreement as he nods his head. Chan is amazed at how easily you’ve stopped the boys from teasing him and stealing his note from him and he can’t help but feel his heart thud heavily in his chest.

“And let me guess Seungmin say a chance at being a menace and said I’m in?” you asked knowingly and Seungmin pouts softly at your all telling words. “Listen just because you’re jealous Chan gets notes in his lunch box doesn’t mean you get to tease him about it. Once you all get girlfriends maybe she’ll send you little love notes.” you scold them gently and Seungmin twists his face with slight disgust. “Don’t give me that look Seungmin, you’re one of the biggest tsunderes out there, you pabo.” you chastise him and ducks his head as his ears burn pink causing Chan to grin fondly at you successfully calling out the younger man.

“You really think that’ll happen for us?” Changbin asks suddenly as he looks over at Felix’s phone where your face is displayed. Chan watches the faces of all the boys and sees the hopeful looks there and wonders if all of his members feel that way, hopefully for someone to treat them like you treat him.

“I hope so, Bin. Yuy guys deserve it.” you say truthfully and Changbin giggles loudly while Seungmin scoffs again.

“I should write a song about receiving love notes. That’s actually a really cute idea.” Han says suddenly before he grabs his chair and begins to furiously write in his lyrics book. Felix suddenly hands his phone to Chan who eagerly takes it and turns it so that you can see him on the video call, your face lights up with happiness when you finally see him and he can’t help but mirror your grin. 

“Thanks sweetheart for shutting the boys down and for my lunch and notes.” he says fondly to you and you chuckle softly at him.

“Any time babe.” you tell him happily with a chipper tone that has him smiling.

“Oh! Let me show where I’ve been keeping all your notes.” he says suddenly realizing that he can finally show his hiding spot. The boys all watch him eagerly and he shoots them a glare which makes them back off.

“Wait, you’ve saved all of them?” you ask surprised and Chan looks down at the phone bewildered.

“Of course I do. They’re special to me and make my day brighter. They give a little boost of energy at lunch time.” he confesses softly as he opens the safe that’s in the corner of the room. He directs the camera into the safe and you gasp softly as you see the cardboard box that has all of your multicolored stationery notes that you’ve given him over two months of dating.

“Oh you’re too sweet for keeping all those notes.” you say softly and slightly teary eyed. Chan beams at you as he blushes cutely. “I’ll have to make sure I never miss a day of notes for you.” you tell him sweetly and he grins at you.

“You better not.” he says seriously and you chuckle happily at him before blowing a kiss to him which he happily accepts before letting you get back to work.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[everlastingdream]

Part 1 - Part 7 - Part 8

Kara bathed in the artificial light, feeling her powers restoring. But it didn't help with her tangled thoughts at all.

J'onn and Alex was planning a mission, Winn was checking the equipment. And Lena...

After declaring that Lilian Luthor was the culprit, Lena's image blurred even with Winn's device still working. She silently took a step outside of the room to disappear completely.

Lena looked really shaken. But then she appeared ten minutes later, face resolute, only to start helping Winn. They seem able to communicate through gestures alone and judging by his exclamations Lena made some good suggestions.

Honestly speaking, Kara was shaken herself. It's not that she was that afraid to face Lilian Luthor, but the thought about the fact that the woman who called herself Lena's mother (even just for the sake of public appearances) tried to kill her... Anger started to boil inside Kara. For her cousin, for innocent people Luthor family hurt, and for Lena.

"Kara? Is everything alright?"

Alex stepped inside the room in dark googles which made her look silly, and Kara smiled despite the situation.

"Yes, thanks, Alex. I think I need another couple of minutes and we can start".

"It's good. But I'm still not sure if we need to do it now. It will be better if have another day or two to get ready".

"Maybe, but I agree with J'onn. We don't know if Lilian knows that we have Lena's files, so it's better to do it fast, even if we won't take her in custody".

"Yes-yes, I know. We'll do it like you both decided. But I was talking about you. Are you okay?" Her sister looked worried even in her funny googles.

"As much as I can", Kara said truthfully, closing her eyes. "I'm nervous about going into Cadmus base, knowing it can have kryptonite. And..."

Alex just waited for her to continue.

"I kinda don't want to go there. I will need to come to terms that Lena... I want to help, really. And I know it was just couple of days, but... I see her, Alex. I hear her. I talk with her. I... I don't want to see her dead body".

They just sat here in silence. Alex, a steady presence by her side. They both pretended that tears didn't slide down her cheeks.

/ / / / / / / / /

"Kara", Lena was floating near, once again visible to only one person.

"Yes, Lena?" Kara wanted to call her name again. To call her enough times so that her name is permanently etched inside her mind.

"Thank you for your help. If not for you... I would've been stuck inside that apartment for eternity. Meeting you was the best moment of my afterlife". Lena chuckled but it sounded wet. Kara couldn't bring herself to look at her.

"I'm glad to meet you too. Even if we didn't know each other for long, I enjoyed our time together".

They fell silent.

"What's your favorite color?" Lena suddenly blurted.

"Red", Kara smiled despite her surprise. "It was one of the colors of my House, and the color of Rao. What's yours?"

"I don't really remember. But I think it either green or blue".

"Not really a fair game of twenty questions."

"I'm a businesswoman, Kara. I'm not really fair".

Kara hoped that she would remember this smile for the long time.

/ / / / / / / / /

They played all the way to the base. Laughing and bickering like they knew each other for many years. And Alex and J'onn who was usually pretty strict about communication on missions didn't say a word.

But they quited down when the entrance to the underground base showed up.

The way inside was easier than expected so everyone was tense. Lena helped by looking through walls which allowed them not to waste time on unnecessary rooms. But they all were wary of letting her go too far because no one was sure what will happen if Lena found her body.

Kara was crossing the hall to one of the wings when doors locked on the both sides. She always thought it was funny. People could search up how she bents metals and crushes concrete but they still thought simple steel locks can stop her.

"Well-well-well, who do we have here? Hello Supergirl. What brought you to one of my facilites?" Speakers in the corners became active with the woman's voice.

"Where is Lena?" Kara asked with all the patience she could master, even if her hands clenched at her sides.

"And who are you to my daughter?"

"I'm a friend", Kara looked right into camera.

Lilian scoffed and judging by the quiet murmur from speakers gave a string of commands.

"Kara, Lilian's not here", Winn intervened in the ear, "I'll try to track her, but it'll be better if you just go find Lena".

Kara turned around, destroying the lock with lasers without any delay. There wasn't a point in listening to the psycopath.

"You can take her", suddenly sounded behind Kara's back. Lilian's voice was cold and sneering. "She was even more useless than I expected. Perhaps she'll have some purpose being your punching bag. After all, you even called 'Luthor' your friend. Surely there has to be at least some purpose like that".

Kara saw Lena freezing in front of her, almost half way to the next door. She was silent and apathetic as soon as they heard Lilian, blank face facing the wall. But now she started flickering rapidly, which looked a lot like trembling.

"Don't you dare talk about Lena like that!" Kara whirled around, powered by rage and an image of Lena's back, so small and vulnerable.

If Lilian was there perhaps Kara wouldn't be able to restrain herself. But now she just blasted a camera and speakers with a good part of the wall. Like from underneath the water she heard Alex's swearing and Winn's aggresive typing. Even if he won't be able to actually destroy Lilian Luthor, but she will have some big troubles after his intervention.

It actually helped Kara to calm down and speed up to Lena. It was another instance when she regreted deeply about being unable to hug her.

"She was always like that", Lena smiled weakly and went ahead without a word.

Kara, worried sick, went after her.

/ / / / / / / / /

They passed through underground complex, defeating mercenaries, who obviously lacked any real skills. Alex reported that back up teams did the same to the reinforcements outside.

Even if it was good, but it's kind of felt like an insult to have Lena guarded so poorly.

"Supergirl, next is the room around which all defences were made. So we think it's our target", Alex paused. "Good luck".

Kara nodded even if her sister couldn't actually see her. She crumpled door, so that no melted metal would hurt Lena's body.

They stood here, not really looking inside. And seeing Lena hesitate to step in the room made Kara feel like she needed to play hero just one more time for her. So she made the first step after a big sigh even if it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Room was small and crumpled. There was a table, a chair and a bed. Nothing to indicate that there was someone's daughter, sister, friend's body lying inside.

There really wasn't a chance that Kara's eyes wouldn't be drawn to Lena the moment they finally were in the same space.

Lena was- Lena's body was lying on the bed. It looked pale, deadly white, which made her raven hair look even darker in comparison. It was dressed in some kind of prison's rob.

Kara sobbed.

"It's a limited collection jacket, Kara!" She pouted, turning her head away.

"Sorry-sorry", Kara laughed gently, lifting her hands up. "I have no idea about wealthy people trends despite working for Cat Grant. The world of fashion changes too fast. But it suits you!"

"Thanks", Lena smiled shy, blushing just a tiniest bit.

She knew. She knew all along that Lena was dead. That when they find her body, Lena won't open her gorgeous green eyes to look and smile at her. That she won't be warm to the touch.

But still, standing there, face to face with reality, Kara couldn't help her tears.

"It's a shame I can't hug you", Lena whispered when she thought Kara fell asleep after talking about small nothings the day they decided to ask Alex for help. "I bet it would've felt nice. And safe".

She lowered on her knees beside the bed, gently taking Lena's hand in hers, flinching from the feeling of cold skin.

Ghost Lena gasped behind her. But all Kara could think about was grieving for a friend who's smile made her heart race. Who was lost forever because of stupid power play in which she didn't even want to participate.

"I really wish we met sooner", Lena said somber. "I would've loved to take you out for a dinner or, you know, hang out. I'm rich enough for you to eat freely with your kryptonian metabolism." She sighed softly.

Kara winked, feeling bolder after meeting Sam.

"I would've loved to hang out even if you didn't spent a cent. I'm not that kind of girl, you know".

Kara lowered her head to the palm of the cold hand, praying that Rao's light helps guide Lena. And then she heard it.

Badum-badum

Kara's own heart painfully squeezed inside her chest to the point of leaving her gasping for air.

She chocked on the tears, which now freely ran down her face.

Kara looked up, ignoring worried voices in her ear.

When her eyes met Lena's she knew that it was really true.

"Y-you are- you are alive..."

[arcane-ish]

I breaks my brain a little that "Piltover is forced to respect Zaun more when they need them to fight against an enemy from the outside" is actually the less shitty and condescending take compared to the writers potentially actually thinking a long running conflict with HUGE economic interests involved and years of inequality is gonna be solved by "Piltover is so touched over the death of one certain Zaunite child that they feel bad and fix Zaun".

I laugh bitter tears. Like I watched a decent amount of the Politics of League/Arcane vids (like the Skyen one or the Color of Fascism one) and I always thought they were way, way, way, way too optimistic that Arcane was gonna have any interest on really exploring systemic oppression and/or inequality and taking a hard stance on it.

That because there are Piltover characters who have to be portrayed in a positive light, it is BOUND to be some sort of centrist solution.

And yeah, as much "Zaun become ground troupes for Piltover against an imperialist force, tons of their people die and then they give Sevika one seat on the council" was poorly explored and it's kinda shitty, it feels like something roughly analogous to real life dynamics.

While the "Piltover feels so bad about one cute girl dying they get rid of systemic oppression" is such an offensively polyanna outlook on the world (and like grossly infantilizing of Zaun) it's just pukeworthy (and yes I don't think they meant it that way, they probably just thought of it as people should be in awe of Vi's death. But that just makes jack shit sense. Vi is not the first Zaunite child that died. Vi means something to us the viewers and to her relatives, but there's jack shit reason for Piltover to give a shit). And yes there are cases where one sad child picture (Alan Kurdi) changes things, but I would argue you notice they usually don't change for long and not systemically and I feel the "the death of an innocent child instantly leads to the end of a years long conflict" probably feels particularly gross to all the people who are emotionally invested in the Gaza conflict.

That's why I'm just gonna say the writers who supposedly said that are on crack, none of that is stated in the show (ie if Pilties helped so much, wouldn't it make more sense if Mylo and Claggor were working together with Piltover students, or if like let's say Caitlyn was hanging around the Last Drop?) and I'm just gonna pretend it happened not because Pilties spontaneously felt bad about it but because SIlco expertly manipulated public opinion and they combined it with let's say strikes and blockades.

ETA: And there were people seriously thinking that Arcane was taking an ACAB/anti police stance. And instead we have the Jinxer who was personally persecuted by the police donning a uniform, fighting side by side with the enforcers and dying for them.

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 34: Lilia and Ace

Lilia and Ace have overlapped surprisingly often: they share a Fairy Gala IF vignette where Lilia visits the team ostensibly to “cheer Silver on during his rehearsal,” but he and Ace then immediately mock Jack for looking like “a bird that's smacked headfirst into a window” and a dizzy flamingo, and Silver for looking like a toddler learning to walk.

Ace and Lilia both enjoy teasing Jack for his stiff expression and “avant-garde choreography.” (Lilia: “If you moved in tandem with Silver's stilted motions, it would look like you were doing the robot. Is that your intention?...I demand a refund! Not that l've paid a single thaumark.”)

Jack eventually loses his patience with the pair and Ace teases Jack about making Lilia cry. (Jack: “Those are fake tears and you know it!”)

Fake crying does not seem to be unusual for Lilia, who also pretends to be upset when the housewardens refuse t hunt for a missing Malleus, and is similarly called out for it (Lilia: “Bah. So much for the waterworks gambit.”).

Lilia then turns his focus upon Ace, volunteering him to give a demonstration to the other members of the team. (Ace: “Whose side are you on, anyway?”)

At the end of the vignette Lilia observes, “It may have been an ineloquent show of support, but it was support all the same.”

Ace is not entirely pleased to be met with Lilia (and Malleus) during the Spectral Soiree after party, with Lilia calling him “a sulking child” and teasing him into venting his frustrations.

Afterwards Lilia comments on how bold Ace is to complain to Malleus directly, and Ace says he feels better having gotten it off his chest.

Lilia is Ace’s judge for the Master Chef event, and Ace whispers to him the confession that he only signed up in the first place to get out of his dorm chores.

Lilia says that “failure can be a valuable learning experience” and judges his minestrone soup as “unremarkable,” saying, “If you don't like my review, do better.”

Ace has a voice line about Lilia tossing him a piece of candy in “a real wild color” while he was talking to Sebek, and Lilia has a voice line about making a dessert for Ace.

Lilia ruffles Ace’s hair in his fourth birthday vignette and Ace dashes away to ditch him, but Lilia follows after him, undaunted.

During the Stitch event Ace asks, “is Lilia always this much of a goofball?” and Riddle confirms with, “I’m afraid so,” saying that he and Floyd are "the worst possible pair to be stuck with during an emergency.” 

[r-eatyourfriends-n]

SMOKED | l.hs 이희승 | Collide pt. 2

bestfriend!heesung x bestfriend!reader

READ PT 1 HERE.

warnings: smut (mdni), pwp (plot's there if you look hard enough), unprotected sex, overstimulation (sort of?), no use of "y/n", light switch!dynamics from both reader and heesung, car sex, unsafe driving lowkey, dryhumping, minor argument, heesung is down bad honestly.

wc: 3.8k

synopsis: days have passed after your first hook up with Heesung, though neither of you have said anything about it. Instead, you continue your search for a good one night stand somewhere else, but your mind and body know where you should be.

a/n: wow! the moral obligation I had to finish this before posting anything else was crazy, but after a huge block it's finally here. If you think this is better than pt1 it's because it is, but it's also because it has been approved by the one and only @molloygendered !!!!! my bestfriend and editor. he wanted to review this again before posting it but I'm a kid on sugar so I held him at gunpoint to approve this. any feedback is appreciated !!! hope you enjoy.

4 unread messages.

sorry to bother u so late

can u pick m up? pls

[Address]

idk if ure awake sorry

Heesung's screen lit up on his desk, breaking his focus from the heated game in front of him. He unlocked his phone, the other hand still gripping the controller tightly. His eyes moved quickly from the texts popping up and then back to the screen, which nearly got him killed. 

The team won eventually, but just barely. Heesung logged out as soon as it was over. He spent the whole time wanting to check his phone.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”Jake yelled at him through the call. “We almost lost."

“My bad. Gotta go,” he said in a monotone voice, showing no remorse as he hung up the call despite Jake's groans.

He looked back down at his phone and texted back a short "omw" before getting up from his chair, stretching his arms. His bones cracked, so loud it made him wince at the sound.

With quick steps, he changed into something a bit more decent, just a plain white t-shirt on top of his cargo pants, which had been slowly losing their black tone after each wash. The chains on his thick belt dangled as he walked out of his room and began to head out of his apartment, taking his keys from the cat-shaped key holder you had put on his wall. He had been surprised the first time he hung his keys and a white cat popped up. It was supposed to be a prank, but Heesung never found it in him to take it off despite the fact that it didn't match with the overall vibe of his room one bit. The kitten disappeared inside the box as he left.

The distance to your location was short, or perhaps Heesung was driving a little too fast. Either way, he arrived about fifteen minutes after telling you that he was on his way to pick you up. He parked in front of a small, black gate which led to some stairs. The complex seemed fairly little, but somewhat cozy, with small balconies filled with pots and all kinds of houseplants. Although it was past midnight and dark, he could still make out the colors of the flowers that were placed by the edges of the windows, leaves moving along with the wind.

Leaving the car on, he hopped out, leaning back against  the driver's door to wait for you. Admittedly, it was ill-intended. He hoped your date would see him and would be thrown off. 

The wait felt like eternity. When the door opened, your figure finally appeared in a white dress with black dots, just a bit above the knee. The cleavage allowed for the black choker to stand out, your name's initial dangling softly. Heesung had always wished it was an H instead.

You smiled at Heesung when you saw him, tilting your head in confusion because why was he out of the car? Heesung smiled back at you, a soft beam on his lips. Then looked to your side when a boy appeared next to you.

He eyed your guy up and down as he said goodbye to you. He was tall like you liked them, with flawlessly tan skin and a face that was nothing short of charming, with a sort of boyish appeal to him, and it was obvious why you had said yes to a date in the first place. Heesung swallowed hard, his own jealousy burning down his throat.

You didn't seem too enchanted by the guy, though, looking almost uncomfortable as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You fake-giggled (at least, he thought you did) and grinned at him politely before making your way to Heesung. The guy appeared to be a little turned off by you getting picked up by another man, for he did not take his eyes off of Heesung as he walked to the passenger's seat to open the door for you, a gesture that you were used to. Before hopping back in, Heesung winked at him, a smug grin forming. After that, you two were off speeding down the road. He'll take the long way home, he decided.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you broke the silence after a few minutes of driving. “You didn't have to wait outside though, it's freezing.” 

"I was trying to scare him off,” Heesung chuckled, a half joke that managed to pass as just something playful, making you laugh and hit his arm.

“I don't think he liked that,” you said after your laugh subsided.

“I think it was you who didn't like him.” 

You went silent for a bit, sulking on your seat.

“So, how was it?” 

“I liked him,” you mumbled, biting your lip in thought. “It was good, yeah.”

“But?” Heesung inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess I was hoping for something more... intense?”

Heesung turned his face, pretending to check something on the rearview mirror so that you wouldn't notice him biting his lip. He hoped you were referring to him, about the intimate moment you two had shared a few nights before, about the bite that was still decorating your shoulder so beautifully. A purple light enough to resemble a bruise; poor clumsy you, tripped and hit yourself with his mouth.

“Intense how?” he asked.

“To hell if I know,” you shrugged.

He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing your way quickly. 

“You clearly do know.” 

“I don't. If I did I would tell you, Hee,” you said, confused.

“Like how you told me you were off to see another douchebag?” Heesung spat. 

His words made you quickly turn your head. And although he wasn't looking at you, you knew he could feel your glare burning through his skin. The sudden change in attitude had been nothing short of baffling. He seemed to keep his eyes on the road to avoid your stare rather than for safety. You couldn't tell if bouncing his leg was anger, anxiety, both, or something entirely different.

“How do you know he was a douchebag?! I told you it was fine!” you whined.

“Did he even make you come?” he asked. 

You opened your mouth to fight back, but the only sound that came out was your breath hitching. It had been such a simple question, but it ignited the memories of your one time affair with him. The soft promises, the surpassed expectations, the sweet, sweet release. Your body began to tingle in the places where his hands had lingered, and you found yourself shuddering on the seat. Of course Heesung had asked that, while knowing your answer, too.

“Sex is not all about that.” you said finally, voice low with uncertainty. 

“Oh, so that's why you fuck every idiot with a mushroom cut.” Heesung mumbled.

“What the hell is your problem? You don't even know him!” your ears rang as your voice raised in pitch.

“Oh I know him; clerk job moron who thinks sticking it in is enough.”

You tried to ignore the fact that he was a receptionist at your esthetician’s clinic who you happened to make conversation with during a long wait. He had been bold enough to ask you to grab dinner and two days later you were kissing in the elevator of his one-bedroom apartment. 

That kiss had set your expectations through the roof, hoping that you had landed your perfect match. And it had been nice, sort of, but not like you had wished for, or had imagined. The way you had envisioned things and the way said things happened were complete opposites. Maybe it had been your fault for already having something in mind.

The conflict his words caused reflected in your face, a turmoil evident as you stumbled out your next words.

“I still don't understand why it bothers you so much. I know I'm sleeping with a bunch of idiots.” 

“You're hellbent on letting these assholes touch you.” he grunted.“ I can't stand it, I don't get it. It's pointless, it's…”

You were barely able to make out the words; he was just rambling, or so you concluded.

“How is that your problem?” you cut him off, bringing him back from his thoughts.

Only then, Heesung realized the slip up. Yes, you were right, and regardless of how close the two of you were, it was ultimately your call who you slept with, which bothered Heesung to no end. Why were you so against calling him again? Why didn't you ask to have sex again? Why did he finally have you, only for you to slip through his fingers? 

He hoped you hadn't caught onto it, but you knew him too well not to. Everything made sense after; his seemingly sudden offer, waiting for you outside of the car, this angry fit.

“I said, how's that your problem? What about it?” you pushed, in response to Heesung's answer, which had been silence.

“You can do so much better than that.” he finally said.

“So,” you smiled at him. “Think you can be my better?”

Heesung pulled the car over, so quickly your body flew towards the door, and he almost hit his chest with the steering wheel. His grip on it was tight, and he began panting. You thanked god about the empty, dark road, otherwise it could've ended in a nasty crash.

Both of your eyes meet, his pupils blown out with a hint of a gleam in them. There was hope, a tad bit of anger, and an undeniable desire. His hands were twitching, itching to touch you, and you didn't remember ever feeling so wanted.

Heesung's gaze slowly drifted to your lips, almost involuntarily. Your mouth fell open to breath, uneven and quick. The car was cold, but your temperature went up like a fever.

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

His gaze met yours once more. “Can I?”

You nodded. It was all he needed to pull you in, holding your face with both hands as gently but firmly as he could. Afraid, in a weird way, that you would disappear if he let go. That this was all a sick dream from his hungry mind and that he was soon to wake up alone, in bed, with you far away from his grasp.

Despite how much he wanted to keep it slow, the kiss was just plainly instinctual. It had started soft, as if he wanted it to last forever, which he did. Then it was relentless, like nothing was enough, with your faces pressed so tightly together that you almost felt you couldn't breathe properly. Heesung allowed you a few seconds of air before he was onto you again.

It was hard to keep up with him, but you managed, because this was what you wanted anyway. It was hard to tell if you would ever get to feel something like this again; the desperation, your blood pounding in your ears from the anticipation before he made the move, and your whole body shaking in excitement as if it had a memory of its own, and could recognize the touch. 

“Backseat,” you muttered between kisses. 

He heard you, loud and clear, he just couldn't stop himself. He wanted more. Heesung wanted to do so much with you, and to you, that he was unable to do anything at all. He couldn't bring himself to separate his mouth from yours despite needing the air, and his hands roamed mindlessly and only for the sake of getting a feel. The once deliberate and calculated Heesung was now a wreck in your hands, melting in the heat like a popsicle. Sweet.

But you really had to pull him off, otherwise you'd turn blue. Your nails scratched his scalp as you yanked him back, making him whimper in the process. The way he looked burned in your memory; eyes half-lidded, lips pink and swollen, parted, panting. Even with his eyes nearly closed, you could see his darkened eyes.

“I said backseat, Heesung,” you repeated, letting go of his hair. “Do you want to fuck me or not?” 

In every single position there was. Fingers, tongue, cock, he wanted to give you everything and more, so he scrambled to the backseat as you had ordered. 

This is who you were; demanding and controlling. That one time he manhandled you? Only that, a one time thing, now you wouldn't give in so easily. Not after the little jealousy number he pulled, at least. You weren't all that resilient yourself, but you would drag it as far as you could.

Heesung thought that he had chosen the worst type of clothing possible. Had he kept the sweatpants instead of changing into something else, then maybe the friction would've been more bearable. The rough material of his pants brushing against his cock made him groan whenever he slightly shifted. And when he finally found comfort, you seated yourself on his lap and grinded, hard. 

“Ohfuck,” he whined, his hands flying to your hips to find some leverage. His nails dug into your sides. “You're gonna— I'm not gonna last.” 

You grinded down again. And again, until you set your pace, ignoring his cries. The nails trying to claw at your skin drove you further despite the sting. As much as he tried to slow you down in the name of ‘lasting longer', he still thrusted his hips up to meet you halfway, though his eyes were tightly shut, and lips pressed in a straight line.

“Please, please baby, I don't wanna come yet, please.” 

“Did I just hear The Lee Heesung begging?” 

He looked up at you, teary eyed. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, as sweat had already begun to drip from his hair. That had been enough of an answer.

Yes, you had. It had been about the hottest thing you had ever heard as well. Usually confident Lee Heesung, always took the lead Lee Heesung, would rather die than humiliate himself Lee Heesung, whining and whimpering about coming too fast after some kissing and humping. That same Heesung that had been able to get not one, but three orgasms out of you before even getting close. It was a sight to see.

You stopped, and Heesung sighed in relief, although the calm didn't last long. As a smirk formed on your lips, his eyes grew panicked. 

“If you come, I'll leave this car,” you said, rolling your hips again.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut again, the shape of his fingers imprinting onto your skin. Back then, when the two of you first had sex, this was the reality of what Heesung felt, even when he did a good job at not letting himself seem so desperate. 

He'd be damned if he looked like a loser in front of you, or so he thought. Because now that your wet underwear was soaking his pants, he was a mess. A hard, pathetic mess, desperately trying not to burst in his jeans from having you on top of him.

You yourself didn't believe you could keep torturing him, only because you were also torturing yourself in the process. His hard length along with the rough fabric of his pants brushed against your clit in a way that sent jolts through your body. It was harsh and uncomfortable while still feeling good enough not to stop.

Heesung's hips twitched with a mind of their own, searching for release against his wishes. You halted, leaning your body back to unbuckle his belt. He groaned at the loss of contact though didn't complain any further, and instead helped you get rid of his restraintments quicker. His breath ghosted over your skin as he sighed in relief, which made you shudder. 

His fingers went down to tease you under your dress, rubbing over the wetness seeping through your panties, and even with the layer in between, he could feel his fingers dampen. Heesung continued until you were left whining and attempting to grind your hips harder onto his hand. Only then did you feel him push the fabric to the side, and the tip of his cock pressed against your cunt.

After Heesung had you the first time, he knew that he couldn't let you go. Days went by where he would still feel your lips against his; the skin of your thighs, hot and sweaty, burning his cheeks as you closed your legs around his head while you came on his tongue. Not one day went by where he didn't fantasize about pushing himself inside you, and in some dreams, he would just stay there. 

But nothing was able to prepare him for when it actually happened. He thought the desperate way in which you lowered yourself on his cock might be too much for you. In reality, it was almost too much for him, as it forced a deep moan from his throat.

It was a little painful, walls tightening and loosening around him to accommodate the quick stretch, though the sting was worth Heesung's debauched expression. You wondered why,despite the uncomfortable, small space, it felt so much better than the first time. Maybe it was how much both of you had seemed to crave it, or the car forcing even more proximity between you two, as the things you could do were limited. Regardless, you could feel your lower region sticky and warm with the slick that had, apparently, dripped out of you and spread around your thighs and ass. 

You could barely hear your over breathing over Heesung's heavy one. His hands massaged the skin of your waist where he held himself, mostly to ground himself to earth, or so you guessed, because he looked completely gone. His cheeks cherry red and his lips a peach pink, and you succumbed to the urge to kiss him. 

This time, it was slow and calculated. He took the time to feel the rest of you, from threading his fingers in your hair, to ghosting his fingers over your spine from under the dress. You didn't fall behind, though, raising his shirt as much as you could to run your nails over your stomach, stopping to feel his muscles tense beneath your hands as you began to move your hips.

“Slow, baby, please,” he breathed out, it came out way more high pitched than he intended to. 

As much as you wanted to keep messing with him, the world had seemed to fade away, leaving you two alone with the car and the small piece of road that you were parked in, and you didn't feel like breaking the moment just yet. You placed your hands on his shoulders for better stability, and rested your forehead on the crook of his neck.

Whispers of praises poured from his lips. You're beautiful, you're amazing, could stay here forever, and another handful that got lost between all the shit's and fuck’s that also came nonstop. He followed all of his words and phrases by kissing your neck, sometimes even biting. You might find a mark when you look in the mirror, but you cared little about that. Instead, you decided to leave a mark of your own, sucking and biting on the most visible place that you could think of. That's when he began to meet your movements, thrusting up messily in an attempt to pick up a pace. 

“Say you're—,” he gulped, interrupting himself. “You're mine.”

“Always have been,” you smiled against the light red bite mark. 

Your voice as you rode his cock kept driving him closer to the edge. Every moan and whine just made him go faster, having already been close to his orgasm from the grinding before. And as you grew tired, it felt as if he was regaining some form of control. Heesung smirked when you laid, practically limp, against him, allowing him to set the speed that he wanted. He remembered that he loved being in control as much as he had loved giving it to you.

“F-faster,” you pleaded lowly.

Heesung pouted, even when you couldn't see him. “No manners, sweetheart?” 

Most likely, you were about to pay a small price for threatening him to leave. 

You swallowed, so loud you were sure he had heard. “Please.” 

“What? I didn't hear you.” 

“Go faster, Hee, please!” you nearly yelled. It had been hard to get the words out after getting him where you wanted.

“There we go!” 

Were you being pushed down on his cock or was he pushing up into you? By this point, you weren't really sure. What you were certain about, though, was that he reached wherever you needed him to, and the squelching sounds were at its loudest.

“Was he good like me?” Heesung asked, grunting through his teeth. “Were you thinking about me while he fucked you?”

He wasn't expecting to get answers, and he didn't. You were too focused on the feeling of your body overheating from the inside out, and all of your muscles tensing. Your walls clamped around him involuntarily as pushed you closer to the orgasm that you had been chasing since the beginning of your date a few hours ago.

Heesung wanted you to finish first, he truly tried, but there was no way to stop the waves of pure pleasure that hit as he came, and the fact that he got to come inside of you just made it hit harder, and you had to help him ride out his climax because he really couldn't move, just kept himself there with his brows furrowed.

You were close as well, so you didn't really stop despite Heesung reaching his orgasm first. Even through his over sensitivity, he helped you reach your own high. He sneaked his hand between your bodies to rub messy circles on your clit. You kept it slow on him, but he went fast. 

It didn't take long for you after that. Feeling you on his cock as you orgasmed almost made him hard again, if it wasn't so late and you hadn't been going at it for what felt like forever—not that he was complaining—. He got to watch your face contort into pure pleasure, better than any daydreams.

Heesung pressed his forehead against yours, unable to do anything other than show you something, whatever that something was. It lingered in the air, in the way he looked at you through his teary gaze. He kissed you, slower than ever before.

Whatever was going through his mind was deeper than lust, you could feel it in the way his lips moved so softly against yours, holding your face with both hands. You wondered if he knew that you didn't plan on slipping away again.

[gretavanmoon]

Keep Me In Your Back Pocket

Sam x Female Reader

6.6k words

+ Not sure if this is a one shot, a blurb, or just an extended thought, but. Enjoy an angsty little Sammy idea.

Warnings: Cursing, Yelling, Mention of Smoking & Drinking, Mention of Mental Manipulation/Abuse, Arguing, Mention of Sex.

“Alright, lay it on me.”

For the life of her, she never knew exactly what color she wanted her hair to be. It seemed like every month she was rolling the dice on something new, something fresh and vibrant that she’d never tried before. She loved it blonde, she loved it when it was a dark chestnut, even liked it the time she dyed it a bright scarlet with some kind of purple streaks. She was always changing it, always daring to be different and go against the grain of what all the other girls were into that season. Every single one of them suited her, though. As gorgeous and poignant as her features are, every different way she decided to style herself fit her perfectly. 

“I love it,” I reassure her as she asks my opinion, knowing good and well that I’d admire her in any one of her decisions on changing up her appearance. 

“Sam, you say that every time. It’s okay to have a little constructive criticism sometimes,” she scorns me with a playful scoff. “Give me your honest opinion. I can take it.”

My eyes travel to meet hers in the mirror as we both stand before it, the reflection showing my appearance as disheveled and worn, just as it always was when I’d let myself indulge too much the night before. My shirts have always stayed permanently wrinkled and unbuttoned, and my hair was always in a constant state of tangles, tied in a forgotten knot at the back of my head. 

Her, though, as perfect as a shiny new thing just unwrapped and pulled from the box. Every single morning, every single night, every single ticking second of the day, she hardly ever looked like she was out of place. Naturally gorgeous, and she never even knew it. 

She pulls her fingers through her locks, fluffing and tousling and deciding whether or not her newest color-switch decision was a good one. 

"Y/N, I swear..." I reply, my hands coming up in front of my face to show my white-flag honesty.

“Ugh,” she groans, letting her fingers drift through it from her forehead and around to the sides, watching her reflection as the hair falls like feathers in front of her face. “Don’t do me any favors.”

“No, I promise. It looks really good on you. Every time you do this, it looks good. I wouldn’t lie to you, love.” And I’d swear to it. I’m not just trying to make her feel better. 

She was like a sponge to her surroundings, soaking up her inspiration from the dust that lied on the bottom shelves of high bookcases, or from the color of a new spring bud on a flower bush in the park. She saw beauty in everything and lived with nearly no hate in her heart, much to my opposite. She’s expressive and confident, effortless but with the loudest sense of humor and style. Never settling on one facet of life, but living in the sense that she’s able to change it whenever she damn well pleases. 

Mine and Y/N’s kinship goes back longer than I can remember. The ever-changing eras of our lives had been spent side-by-side since we were kids playing Kick the Can at the end of our neighborhood’s street, waiting for the street lights to come on to tell us when to run home for dinner.

I’d seen it all… Her first crush on the boy that sat behind her when we were in fifth grade, and her giddiness when he asked her to the winter dance. I’d seen her fail her driver’s license test four times before she finally passed, giving us both the freedom of inheriting her dad’s old beater flatbed and the open road. I helped her write the letter she wrote to her high school heartthrob, telling him that she no longer had the same feelings that she did when they’d first met. And I caught the subsequent tears that fell from her eyes as she listened to the horrific rumors he’d spread about her to the entirety of the school. I sat with her while she nervously opened her acceptance letter to college. Helped her surprise her parents with their twenty-fifth anniversary gift. I watched her fall in love with a man she met while she was pumping gas at a truckstop on her way home from a Black Sabbath show. And now, just as I always have, I’m helping her to understand the true beauty that she has always had as we stand before this mirror… Me in my pleated dark jeans, and her in her white dress and veil. 

“I just… this hair color doesn’t suit me, it never has,” she argues, trying her best to pin back the bangs she’d begun to let grow out some time ago. “It makes me look older, washed-out, don’t you think?”

I sigh, running my hand over my face as we go over this round-and-round again, probably for the fiftieth time in our lives. 

“Everything suits you, love,” I compliment her honestly, not brave enough to tell her that even though I’m standing behind her and encouraging her to notice her own beauty in her wedding gown, my heart and lungs are full of stones as the reality hits me that I’m not waiting for her at the altar, dressed in a tuxedo.

“Are you not happy with how it turned out?” I press.

I find it odd that instead of her embracing the newness of her copper-blonde strands that match perfectly with the color of the trim sewn onto her wedding dress, she’s instead criticizing it. It’s completely out of character for her. Normally, she’d be falling into the boost in confidence her new color has given her. But today… 

“No, it’s great it’s just… not me,” she argues. “It’s what Bobby wanted. Said he likes me best with this shade. Says it brings out the real ‘housewife’ side of my features.”

I physically can’t help the grimace that paints my face as it contorts into confusion. “Y/N, how the fuck does a hair color reflect how you choose to run a household?”

“Shhtt, Samuel. We’re in a church for god’s sake!” she turns and hits me across the arm as I roll my eyes at her pretending to care. She turns, careful not to step on the long train of her dress as she makes her way toward me, and away from the mirror. “Sammy this… This is my natural hair color. Close to it, at least."

“Oh…” I murmur, somehow only now realizing that I in fact have never really seen her with her real, actual hair color. Not since we were young kids, anyway, when my memory begins to turn to fuzz. 

“He says he loves me just the way I am, that I don’t need anything extra to make me look beautiful,” she goes on, her face falling just a bit as her eyebrows turn down. She stays quiet as she avoids my eyes, and she knows that it won’t take much for me to become argumentative. It’s easy to do, these days. 

At the risk of me making her mad on her wedding day, I stuff my sullied hands into my pockets, finding a wire nut and a few pennies at the bottoms to fidget with. “That may be true, love, but… is that what you want? You’ve always expressed yourself with all these wild hair colors… crazy makeup and outfits and whatnot.” 

It was true, her means of expressing herself were sometimes a little unprecedented in the grand scheme of things, but that’s exactly what always made her stand out to me. Besides the fact that I’ve been in her life for the past seventeen years, and the fact that I’m madly and incredibly in love with her.

“Yeah, I know… It doesn’t feel right to me, but. If it’s what Bobby wants–”

“Is that why you aren’t wearing hardly any blush on your cheeks? And you don’t have your fingernails painted, and your fingers aren’t dripping with all that silver you’ve collected over the years?” I grab her left hand, yanking it up close to my face to eye the small shiny diamond that now adorns her ring finger. From her betrothed… as her mother called him. Hell, the guy can’t even shoot Jack Daniels without a goddamned chaser let alone notice that the woman he’s to marry has laid down her entire life for him. 

She rips her hand from mine, jerking and forceful as I look back at her face. Striking as ever, even when completely devoid of any fancy eyeliner or powder, or whatever the stuff is. 

“Where’s that sparkly lip stuff you’ve worn every single day for the past ten years? Hm? And that necklace that you never take off because it’s bad luck…” My voice is rising now as she turns her back to me. “Fuck, Y/N, even your dress… You never wanted to wear white! Your dream wedding dress, what was it you always said, ‘I’ll never wear white in my wedding, simply because society tells me I have to!’”

“Stop, Sam! Just… Stop!” she yells, turning to face me now with rage emanating from her.

My jaw is clenched as my hands have long abandoned my pockets, rising into the air now as my voice continues to rise with them. 

“Stop what, Y/N?!”

“Stop being so goddamned honest with me all the time!” she yells. 

I scoff. “You just told me to not do you any favors, this is me not doing you any favors! Exactly like you asked!” I bicker. If there's one thing Y/N and I are good at, it's arguing.

“Ugh, do you know how easy it is to lie to someone?! How easy it is to sugarcoat reality to make it a little easier for them to digest?” 

“What in the fuck are you talking about, Y/N?” I ask, straining my voice.

She’s got tears threatening to fall from her eyes, and her voice is nearly as loud as mine. I halfway want to take this outside, pull a cigarette from my pocket and keep going so that the entire church can’t listen in, but I really don’t fucking care at this point. It feels like something is brewing.

“I’m saying it’s okay to lie to people sometimes, Sam! To make them feel a little bit better about their situations, okay?”

“Why in the hell would I lie to you, Y/N?” I retort, stepping closer toward her. She folds her arms over her chest in what looks to be self-preservation. “I’ve never fuckin’ lied to you, in almost twenty years, I’ve never once not been honest!”

She’s silent as we both begin panting through our rage, having trouble holding our tongues back from what we really want to say, simply because it’s her wedding day. 

But then, fuck it. “I’m not gonna stop being honest with you just because you’re marrying him,” I bite, tossing around the idea of whether or not I should keep it all to myself, for once. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Why’d you say it like that?” she says, uncrossing her arms. 

I think about it for a second, and normally, I’d throw my opinion of her fiance right in her face, no questions asked. But today… Today is a little different. And it hurts like hell to hold it back.

“Nothin’, Y/N,” I stammer, pulling the half-pack of cigarettes from my front shirt pocket. I waltz to the wall, taking a seat on an old wooden bench before sticking the unlit cigarette between my lips. I force it all down for the sake of her happiness, shoving my words into the deepest depths of my throat. I eye her heavily from across the room, and the tension is thick. 

Before I know it her high-heeled feet are bounding across the hardwood floor, right toward me. “No, not nothin’, Samuel.” She rips the cigarette from my lips and breaks it right in half, dropping the remnants to the floor. 

“Are you fuckin’ crazy, woman?” I exclaim, bending down to clean up the mess of filter and tobacco from the floor. 

“Damnit, answer me, Sam,” she begins to plead as I’m now face to face with her chest, and all the bright white material of her otherwise very bland wedding dress, for her taste at least. But again, I’d never tell her that. “Be a man, answer me and tell me how you really feel,” she demands. 

I can feel some new type of energy radiating from her, something that I’ve not felt from her before. And it’s then that I begin to suspect that her pleas are loaded with some other type of emotion.

I clench my jaw and stand quickly, letting the cigarette pieces fall from my hand and back onto the floor. 

“Fine, you really want me to tell you how I feel? Then I will, fuck it,” I yell. She doesn’t back down, and now I’m towering over her, watching as her cheeks redden with madness and the tears sit still, glimmering as she refuses to let them fall. “He’s awful for you, Y/N. He ain’t you. He doesn’t deserve you. Every single thing about you has changed since you got with him. He’s made you into his goddamned puppet. His fuckin’ arm candy. Stripped you of everything that you love. Everything that makes you happy–”

“He makes me happy, Sam! Don’t you see that?” she cries, finally letting one tear fall. “Just because he–”

“Does he, Y/N? Are you sure? Or are you just lyin’ to yourself because it’s what you think you want?” I go on, letting the words I’ve kept holed up fly freely. We’re quiet for a beat before I take another breath and speak again. “He gave you the big house, the boat, the money… the status… The last name that will get you whatever you fuckin’ want in this town. And look at you now. You’re a shell of yourself, Y/N. You ain’t even you anymore. You haven’t been you in a long time, and I’m just the bravest son of a bitch to tell you.”

Her nostrils flare as she crosses her arms again, her eyes flitting from the floor to me, and back. “This goes a lot deeper than him not wanting you to be you, doesn’t it, Y/N?” I ask genuinely. 

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Sam,” she says through a choked sob. 

“Then tell me, Y/N! Enlighten me. ‘Cause god knows you haven’t talked to me the same in months, now. Hell, I didn’t even know about this wedding until four fuckin’ days ago…” I go on, the sting of learning about it still hitting me right in the chest. I wasn’t even going to come, but…

She shrugs her shoulders. “He just, he gets me, ya know? He’s sweet to me, buys me nice things, takes me on vacations. His family loves me, tells me he wants to start our own family as soon as we can.”

“A family?!” I practically yell in her face. “Y/N, you don’t want kids, you never have!”

“I didn’t, Sam, until I–” she swallows her words, stopping to wipe the wetness from her face. In any other instance, I’d be working hard to catch them before they ruined the mascara and shadow she spent an hour on, but she doesn’t have a stitch of anything on her face to worry about.

“Until you what?”

I watch as her bottom lip trembles, her body a shaking mess as she lets herself fall onto the bench I’d just stood from. Her eyes shoot down and her shoulders fall; the once vibrant, radiant woman I knew that had a lust for life and an enviable outlook on the world now presents herself as someone who hasn’t seen the light of day in years. Someone who is skittish, unsure, and unconfident. Someone who lives under the thumb of a man who imposes such harsh reverse psychology on her that she doesn’t even see herself changing into something that she wasn’t born to be.

“Until I saw you holding Jenny Watson’s baby boy,” she croaks, anxiously rubbing her hands together.

What?

“What do you mean, Y/N?” I ask, my voice monotone as my thoughts begin to race. I slowly walk back over, and take my seat again on the bench beside her.

She inhales with a harsh sniffle, clearing the still-falling tears away as she tries to get them to stop. It takes her a second, but she looks at me.

“Until I saw you. Holding him. It… I dunno. Made some kinda weird switch go off in my head like, maybe… They aren’t so bad, after all,” she says, crossing one leg up underneath herself. “Like if you can be so natural with one, maybe I can be too.”

I’m left stunned. Hell, I hardly even remember holding that baby at our class reunion just six months ago. The kid was cute, and reached out for me. I couldn’t say no.

“Me?” I whisper, still feeling confused. 

“Yeah, fuck. Don’t flatter yourself. Ok? It was sweet, and cute… And… made me change my mind a little,” she says. “Made me think that maybe with him, I could do it.”

Her words nearly cut me in two. With him.

“But the making them part is what’s got me worried,” she admits, throwing me for a loop again.

“Worried? Why?”

She shrugs again, and I realize I’m slowly breaking through the barrier that she’s put up between us for so long now. She’s opening up to me, just like she always did. But still yet, she can’t find the words.

I search her face as she licks her lips, kneading her hands together again as she searches for the words. Sometimes I think that I can read her mind, but as of late, it’s as though she’s a prisoner to it. I keep my eyes trained on her as she starts and stops her sentences, biting them back as if she can’t admit anything at all. Finally, it clicks.

“Don’t tell me that son of a bitch don’t treat you right in the bedroom, too. For fuck’s sake… he’s a spoiled brat and he can’t fuck?! Wow, Y/N, you really hit the jackpot!” I couldn’t stop myself. 

“Oh don’t you even fucking go there, Samuel, I swear to god.”

“Go where, Y/N? To the truth? Is that not what you’re trying to say to me? That he doesn’t satisfy you?”

“Urgh, I know I shouldn’t have clued you in like that, now you’re just going to make it all worse!” she cries, resting her veiled, copper-blonde head against the aging wall of the church.

“Worse? When have I ever made anything worse for you, Y/N? For years, all I’ve ever tried to do was make you happy, be your friend. A shitty one, sometimes, but don’t sit here and tell me that I’ve ever been anything but good to you.”

She shakes her head and closes her eyes as she cries, finally bringing her hands to her face to cover it. She’s an absolute mess on her wedding day, and it’s all because of me. And my stupid words. And my stupid honesty. Why did I have to go and fall in love with someone who I knew was too good for me? Someone who would never refer to me as anything but a good friend? 

Truly, as degenerated of a person that I am, I’m still a million times better for her than the man she is supposed to marry. And suddenly, I’m wrought with guilt.

“Please stop crying, Y/N,” I beg her, quietly and gently bringing my hand to rest on her trembling arm. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. You’re getting married in fifteen minutes, you should be bursting at the seams with happiness, right now.”

She pulls the coverage of her hands away long enough to whisper a few words. 

“I should be happy, but I’m not, am I?” 

I can feel all the blood drain from my body and straight into the basement of the church, seeping through the crack and seams of the floor as it searches for somewhere else to be. Of course she trusts me to answer that for her. The one person who she knows will be nothing but brutally honest with her, no matter what the question is.

“I wouldn’t bet my last penny on it, love,” I whisper back, hoping that it doesn’t hurt her any further. “Just because it doesn’t take a lot for you to be happy doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be given the bare minimum of something real.”

She pulls her hands away from her face, her eyes blotched and swollen as she finally succumbs to her emotions, letting her arms wrap around my neck and her head rest in the crook of it.

Just like all the other times before.

“Why do you always know exactly what to say, Sam?” she says over another quiet whisper.

I shake my head as I wrap my arms around her waist, giving her the same hug that I have on so many other occasions like this.

“I don’t. I just say what I think. And hope that maybe you’ll listen to me, one day,” I chuckle a little as I feel her lips curl into a smile on the skin of my neck, making my cold heart feel just a little bit warmer.

“When was the last time you danced, Y/N? Like, really danced?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood a little.

She pulls away and shrugs, but she makes a point to let her fingers travel down the arms of my shirt, finally letting her hand fall overtop of mine. “I don’t know. Couldn’t tell you.”

“When was the last time you went to a gig? Or on those crazy long solo road trips you used to love… Or got your art featured in that showcase you used to frequent?” I ask. Again, she has no answer. I can feel my face fall in disappointment. This guy has really done a number on her.

“Are you still making your art?” I ask. 

The look in her eyes is solemn… empty and lifeless as if she’s reminiscing on a lifetime ago. 

She shakes her head. “No. Bobby says it’s silly and pointless to express myself like that. Makes too much of a mess in the house.”

I can’t help the scoff that leaves my mouth, and the subsequent eye roll. Does he even know who she is?!

“God, Y/N… next thing is you’re gonna tell me he made you get rid of Pepper.” Her beloved black lab has accompanied her through more of her life than I have. Her true best friend and one of the best dogs I’ve ever come in contact with. 

But again, she’s quiet. 

“You’re fucking kidding me, he made you–” I can’t even finish my sentence. That evil jackass made her ditch her dog?!

“He lives with my dad, now…” she says, rubbing a stray tear from under her eye. “Bobby doesn’t like dogs.”

I cup my hand around her temple, ignoring the position of her veil as I pull her to rest her head against my chest. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That’s the fuckin’ worst. And that makes me dislike him even more. You don’t take a woman’s dog away from her.”

“I miss him so much, Sammy,” she cries again.

“Where did my Y/N go?” My question is rhetoric, but true, all the same.

Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve learned more shitty things about this Bobby guy in the past twenty minutes than I have in the year that they’re been engaged. Fuck, all I came in here to do was tell her congratulations. Tell her I was happy for her, even though I was going to lie through my teeth. My best friend on the planet, the one person who I can fight to the death with, and make up the next minute like it was no big deal. Though we’re older now with lives and responsibilities, I still count on her to bring me back down to earth. I still miss her when we skip a few days of talking. I still yearn to feel her near me, search for her in my dreams, hope and pray that one day the universe will allow me to call her mine. The one that’s too good for me, the one that I would walk to the end of the earth for if I knew it would make her happy. I’ve never been a romantic man, but I sure as hell know a good woman when I see one. And I’ll be damned if I let someone dull her shine any further.

So I ask, for the first and final time, as I hear a commotion starting to gather in the chapel.

I take a deep breath and gather myself, taking her hands tightly in mine as I force myself to look her in the eye. “Tell me you’re happy, Y/N. Tell me you’re really fucking happy with him, and I’ll leave. I’ll go sit in the pew and watch you vow to keep him happy for the rest of your life. All the while knowing that you’re puttin’ on a fuckin’ show for everyone,” I grit with softness, knowing that time is running out. If I’m gonna get through to her, I have to do it now.

The look on her face sends a shot through my heart, and I feel my throat tighten. Her eyes are lifeless again, and the woman staring back at me isn’t the one that I know.

Just then a soft rap on the door interrupts us, and an older lady peeks her head through to find us. “Y/N, honey, it’s time,” she says softly, her eyes landing on me as I realize it’s her grandma. 

“Ok Mamaw, thank you,” she says, wiping her face free of the dampness. 

“Samuel, I didn’t expect to see you in here,” she coos quietly with a sweet smile. 

“Afternoon Ms. Ellen, nice to see you again,” I say with a wave. 

She looks behind her quickly, checking to see if anyone had followed her. When she knows she’s alone, she lets herself a little further into the room with us. 

“I hope you’re in here telling my sweet Y/N all your long lost secrets before she’s an honest woman,” she says, folding her hands across her stomach. I’ve always loved this woman, the most picture-perfect cookie-cutter grandma with a virulent and exciting past. And, she sneaks and smokes cigarettes with me, sometimes. 

“Ah, maybe a few,” I say as I let Y/N blot her face with a tissue in the mirror. I’ve always felt like Ms. Ellen has been on my team, knowing, or better yet, able to recognize the love that I wear on my sleeve for Y/N. Sometimes those folk just have a sixth sense when it comes to these things. 

Ellen makes direct and intense eye contact with me before she mutters, “Doesn’t my granddaughter look beautiful in her dress?”

“Ah, yes,” I clear my throat, “she always looks beautiful.”

“Shame she didn’t even get to pick it out herself. Didn’t even get to try a few on to see what she might like,” Ellen says somberly. “Just had it handed to her by Bobby’s assistants.”

“Mamaw…” I hear the warning in Y/N’s voice. 

“What, child? Just telling Sammy here that I’m so happy it ended up fitting you like a glove.” I give Ellen a reassuring smile as I stand from the bench, realizing that it must be my time to go. 

Ellen turns and makes it to the door before she stops with her hand on the knob, taking a quick breath before she turns back to us. 

“Do you remember when you two were little, just kiddos in elementary school, and you decided that the two of you were going to have a wedding in my backyard?” she says. 

“Mamaw, shouldn’t you be finding your seat in the congregation?” Y/N warns her again, but it’s no use. 

“You invited all your little neighborhood friends and asked me to help you hem your dress. A bright purple one, I believe it was. Little Sammy spent all day roaming through the neighbors’ landscaping and stealing the perfect flowers to make you a bouquet. Asked me to bake cookies for your guests. Caught all the fireflies in town and stuffed them into a mason jar so that when the sun went down, you’d still be able to see to walk through the grass.”

My chest warms at the fond memory of all those years ago, back when life wasn’t real and time didn’t exist. I steal a quick glance at Y/N, standing in the mirror again as she listens to her grandmother speak. “Sam came inside and started rummaging through my cabinets, stealing the twist-ties off my loaves of bread to fashion into rings… The cutest thing I ever saw…”

“The first time I ever kissed you,” I add, once again stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans. 

I watch as Ellen’s face lights up with joy, and Y/N’s blushes with embarrassment. It was the first time, but it wasn’t the last. One drunken night after graduation, Y/N and I had climbed onto the roof of the old dry cleaner’s and played truth or dare. Of course, I dared her to kiss me on a whim. And by god, she didn’t hold back. It was fast and it was heavy, but I knew deep down that for her, it was all in fun.

Nothing ever went past that kiss that ended in nothing more than just a little intense drunken intimacy. Nothing except the feelings that I had for her grew tenfold, and never went away. 

“Well, anyway,” Ellen breaks the silence. “I’ll be outside, sweetheart.” Ellen sneaked back through the creaky old door, giving me a look that said ‘Last chance, honey. Don’t let her get away.’

All I can hear in the room now is Y/N taking a deep cleansing breath, smoothing the dress out over her thighs as she straightens her veil. I catch her eyes in the mirror again, giving her one last look before I begin to make my way to the door. 

“I kept that ring, you know,” she says, stopping me. “The bread tie one. I still have it.”

I turn back. “You do?”

“Mhm. In my jewelry box at home. I see it almost every day.” She’s walking toward me again, cleaning up her face and running her fingers along her tear lines. 

“Why’d you keep it?” I ask.

“Because it meant a lot to me, reminded me how much you mean to me. And it reminds me to keep my promises, no matter how simple and pointless they are. They’re still important,” she goes on, biting her lips together every few words. “Do you remember what we promised that day, Sam?”

I shake my head, the memory a little fuzzy still. “Kind of…”

“We said that even though we might not marry each other when we’re grown ups, that we’d always look out for each other. Keep each other in check. And we promised to always stay connected, no matter what.”

I nod. “Simple as that…”

She smiles. “Simple as that.”

I fight a tear, myself, as I reach in my back pocket and pull out my wallet, fidgeting through the old, worn in pockets of it in search of what I know is there, buried away but not forgotten. Finally my finger lands on it, and I gently pull it from the narrow slot. I place it in the center of my free hand, tiny, blue, tattered and worn. 

“You kept your ring, too,” Y/N says breathlessly. 

“It’s survived three wallets and an accidental trip into the trash can. But, it made it,” I say, admiring the tiny item that I only see from time to time. 

She walks closer to me, gently running her finger along it’s paper edges. “Sammy, I can’t believe you–”

“Don’t marry him, Y/N,” I blurt, the words escaping my mouth before I can even give them a second thought. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry him.”

“What?” her eyes bulge from her head as she stops in her tracks. It feels as though the entire world is standing still. 

“I said don’t do it. Don’t lock yourself away for the rest of your life. Don’t be unhappy in a relationship with a man who won’t even let you have your dog,” I’m babbling now, my chest tight and my throat on fire. I don’t even care. I needed to do it, I have to say it. 

“But, I–”

“There are no buts, here, Y/N. You still have a choice, and if what you say is true, we promised to look out for one another. This is me looking out for you,” I say. 

She stares at me as her hands drop to the sides, her demeanor less than it has looked all day. 

“That’s all I’m gonna say, Y/N. That’s all I needed to say.” I stuff the ring back into it’s place in my wallet before smoothing my hands over my hair. My breath begins to pick up and I feel my face getting hot. I turn again and head straight for the door, and I hear the music begin to echo off the walls of the church. 

“Sam, wait–”

“You know it’s always been me, Y/N. And if it’s not me, then please, for the love of god, just don’t let it be him. Okay?” I say as my hand turns the knob. “Go in there and marry him, throw away everything that makes you happy, everything that brings you joy. Makes you you. Lie to him and yourself and to everyone in there…”

I feel thick, hot tears blurring my vision as I begin to lose composure from the adrenaline of what I’m saying and doing. I shouldn’t be doing this… But also, I absolutely should.

“But if not…” I raise my hands and let them fall back to slap my sides, nodding to her in a way that I know she will understand. The last look I got of the woman I just confessed my love to was one that will be etched into my brain for the rest of my life. For the first time in a long time, I saw hope in her eyes.

I dash out the back doors of the church and down the concrete steps, out onto the quiet street straight toward my motorcycle. I hear the music swelling inside, making me feel like I can’t afford another breath. I slip my helmet on and I check my watch, 4:59PM. 

I straddle my bike and grab the handle bars, taking a glance every few seconds at the back door I had just burst through. My heart is pounding as I hear the processional music begin, and my hands are rough as I grip the handlebars. I turn the key, revving the engine to let her know that I’m out here, serious, and ready to take her away from it all…

My eyes dash again and again, willing the doors to open. “Come on, Y/N, don’t do this…”

My hands twist the bars, the calluses on my palms harshly rubbing against them as I grit my jaw side to side. The anxiety is almost worse out here than it is inside. “Come on, baby…”

It feels like an hour ticks by as the music inside swells and becomes louder, and the blood pumping through my veins strains harder and harder. My foot is bouncing nervously on the ground, ready to kick the stand at a moment’s notice. But deep down, I know I’d wait out here for her for a hundred years. I’d never stop waiting for her, until she told me to stop. 

The organ music continues and starts from the beginning again, and it’s then that I realize, it’s still playing. 

She isn’t walking down the aisle.

My eyes flit to the door again, and just as I catch sight of the evening sun brightening its golden glow onto the stained glass windows, the back door opens. Slowly, at first, just enough for me to tell it moved. 

Fuck, she’s gonna run…

The door opens a little bit more, and I see the top of her head peek through the opening. I feel like my body is about to catch on fire as I realize she’s most definitely not where everyone is expecting her to be. She slips through the door, shutting it softly behind her as she finds me parked on the street, ready and waiting. I slide my helmet off to get a better look at her, and I swear every single ounce of breath is stolen from my lungs. 

Her veil is gone, and her high heels are off, and she’s tumbling down the concrete steps through the yard, directly toward me. My breath hitches, I can’t fucking believe it. She’s gonna leave. I feel like I’m frozen in place as I watch her run to me, her hair flowing in the breeze behind her. 

She’s glowing, rushed and anxious as she bounds barefoot through the mess of cars clogging up the street. My heart is thrumming from my ribcage, and I’m positive that I’ve never seen a sight more gorgeous in my entire life. 

She’s coming… she’s really coming with me.

Finally she reaches me and the bike, her chest heaving with nerves and lost breath as I give her a surprised and pleading look. I open my mouth to speak, but I really don’t know what to say. 

She rips the helmet from my hands and places it on her own head. “You gonna get me the fuck out of here Sam? Or am I gonna have to beg you?” she boasts with that old confidence she always used to have.

I laugh through my nose as she grabs onto my shoulders and hikes up her dress to straddle the back of the bike. 

“I’d love to see you beg, love. But not today,” I reply, kicking the stand up with my right foot as we find our balance on the bike. Her arms wrap around my stomach as I take off, zipping through the mess of parked cars and straight toward the quickest way out of here. 

“Where do you wanna go?” I ask her, turning my head just a little. 

“Anywhere. Literally any place on earth that isn’t here,” she yells into my ear over the deafening sound of the engine. 

I feel like I could speed up and ride straight into the sunset, and I’m positive that she wants to disappear just as badly as I want to. I feel the touch of her sweet lips land directly on the back of my neck, leaving a tiny peck there that nearly sends me into overdrive. I’m in such harsh disbelief. But moreso, I’m thankful. 

Her lips travel from the back of my neck and around to my ear again as her arms squeeze me a little tighter. “Thank you, Sammy,” she mumbles, and I feel a warmness overtake my entire body. She has no idea that I’m the one that should be thanking her. We both let the sound of wedding bells fall into our memories, only concentrating now on the sounds of the motor running, and the tires rolling across the pavement.

[respectthepetty]

BL Land has had some amazing shows this year, but with one episode left, I can easily state that Bad Guy, My Boss is easily one of my favorites. No hesitation. I know it's not the best, but every single episode, the people behind the scenes have earned their paychecks. Consistently!

For example, I didn't need these two fools to declare their undying love for each other.

Because the show already told me they desperately love each other in the seventh episode when they got the pink lighting.

And I've been knowing these two were in love.

Because their colors have started to sync.

Unlike Fie Long and Run who are truly light and dark, and like it like that.

Pat and Elyes try to balance each other out.

And we see it in the colors.

Elyes and Pat are at the worst when they are at extreme odds.

Which is why their love exists in the colors.

There's grays and blues.

There's neutrals.

So in comparison to Fei Long and his tracker on Run's phone, it's clear that Elyes is lighter.

Because Elyes isn't going to magically be the lightest guy all the time, but the colors, wardrobe, and angles show us that even though Pat and Elyes are on the same side, Elyes cannot be as dark as he has been.

He has to comprise.

So to end this episode with Fei Long, all in black, slowly dissolving the barrier between the two of them.

And Elyes light and Pat "dark" in his blue/gray emphasizes that they really do balance each other.

So regardless of what wild loosey goosey shenanigans take place every week, the people working on this show all understood what needed to happen.

And they've done it, every single week.

Bless.