#having heart eyes for po being done with earn's shit

[tortibomb]

เธมโป้ (ThamePo) Heart That Skips a Beat | EP.12

Po and his keep my name outta your filthy mouth was the highlight of episode 12. The audacity!

[svnflowervol666]

Fried Rice and... Kiwi? (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: Happy third birthday to HS1! Here’s something short and sweet in it’s honor. I came across this gif earlier today and all I could think about was lying on Harry’s tummy and listening to him talk about the album. Hence, this fic was born. Obviously, I had to turn it into dad!Harry, because that’s all I can manage to do ever. Like, literally ever. But, regardless! Enjoy, take care, and TPWK. gif by @stylesinthewild​!!!

Three sequential knocks on the weighted, wooden door broke up the playful banter occurring in the studio. It wasn’t a request to enter, more so a signal of arrival and a warning - she was coming in whether they liked it or not. 

“Delivery!”

Smells of grease and soy sauce filled the nostrils of everyone inside as she cautiously maneuvered her way around discarded instruments and cords and towards the coffee table with a both arms full of enough take out to feed a small army.

“God, thank you! You’re the best! Been starvin’ all day,” Jeff piped up from the armchair he’d been sitting in.

“Genuinely! You didn’t have to come all the way across town to bring us dinner,” Sarah added, hair aloof and sticking up around her head as if she’d been running her fingers through it incessantly over the past few hours.

“Well, someone,” Y/N sneered, cutting her eyes back to Jeff, “keeps stealing my man away from me and I’m tired of waiting for him at home, so I figured I’d just pay him a visit here instead.”

“A simple, ‘You’re welcome, Jeff,’ would’ve done ya just fine!” he sarcastically fired back as the rest of the room doubled over in laughter.

Harry was up and out of the cushion he’d been slumped back in to grab the paper bags that were balanced on top of his girlfriend’s arms so he could take her hands in his and guide her towards him.

“Tip your driver?” she cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips down at him when he sat back down.

“Hmmm,” Harry toyed with her comment, pretending to pat down his pockets in search for change, “‘Ve only got my undying love and affection and an endless amount of kisses. Will that do?”

“I suppose,” Y/N huffed, leaning in to press her lips chastely against his.

“Okay, let’s see if I got this right,” she directed her attention back to the group as she fished around the bags of food.

“Beef and broccoli for Mitch?” The long-haired, almost-resembling-jesus brunette smirked and nodded as he leaned over to take the white carton from her hands.

“Kung Po chicken with extra sauce for Sarah,” Y/N stated confidently. She knew that one for certain.

Sarah bowed graciously as she swiped a handful of duck sauce from the bag after taking her order from Y/N.

“Hot and Sour soup for Adam and Jeff.” 

She handed Adam the plastic tub of hot liquid as if she was presenting him a sacred piece of treasure and cast Jeff’s soup away dramatically as if to say she was still fake-mad at him for keeping Harry holed up in the studio for long hours and couldn’t care less if he spilled the damn thing in his lap or not.

“You’re too kind,” Jeff scoffed, earning a pointed middle finger in his direction from Y/N.

“And last but certainly not least,” she grabbed the two remaining cartons by the thin metal handles and presented one to Harry, “Veggies for the boy.”

“Thank you, lovie,” Harry responded earnestly as he grabbed utensils for the both of them, chopsticks for him and a fork for her (he’d tried to teach her more times than he could count to use chopsticks properly but she could never quite get the technique down successfully) and dug into the steaming heap of vegetables packed to the brim of the container.

It was peacefully quiet as everyone chowed down on the takeout Y/N had brought in, everyone coming to the realization of how hungry they’d gotten after spending the entire day writing, composing, and recording an album. Harry and Y/N sat on opposite ends of the couch, her feet resting comfortably in his lap.

“Wha’ did you get?” Harry asked through a mouthful of food.

“Rice.”

Harry frowned.

“Just rice?”

“Wasn’t that hungry,” Y/N shrugged, “Plus, I might have eaten the leftover pizza from the other day right before I came.”

“Still. ‘S not good f’ you. Need t’ be eating better than tha’,” the newly short-haired brunette (Y/N may have shed a tear when he told her he was cutting it) gathered an assortment of sauteed vegetables with his chopsticks before leaning over the couch and dangling it above her lips, waiting for her to open her mouth and accept the bite.

She managed to catch it all, sans a thin strip of onion that she quickly slurped up before it fell and wiped the remaining sauce from the corner of her mouth with her knuckle.

“You two disgust me,” Jeff called out from across the room, a scowl adorning his features.

Harry smiled that obnoxiously cheesy shit-eating grin that he had become infamous for having in his manager’s direction, being sure to push the chewed up broccoli to the front of his teeth to only add to Jeff’s so-called repulsion.

“I think you’re just jealous that the attention’s not on you,” Y/N stated matter-of-factly, “I’m carrying precious cargo. It’s part of the job description now.”

She gave a snide and over-dramatised rub over her swollen belly where hers and Harry’s unborn child was nestled conveniently on top of her organs, making it harder and harder to move around and have any kind of energy as of late.

“If I recall correctly, I’m carrying his career. ‘S pretty precious if you ask me.”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N plopped her half-eaten side of fried rice onto the table in front of her and shifted her body so that she was lying in Harry’s lap, her head resting perfectly where his thighs met his toned, yet somehow still soft tummy. Harry acclimated to her new position with ease, freeing one his hands so he could pet her hair gently.

“What did you guys work on today?” she asked, her fingers slipping under the hem of Harry’s shirt to absent-mindedly rub the sparse strip of hair that trailed down from his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his boxers that were just barely peaking through the top of his jeans - similar to how he stroked her bump when they cuddle in bed at night.

“Finished up the master for Two Ghosts and added the keys to Woman, but tha’s about it. Started playin’ with another one, but I’m not sure that it’s gonna go anywhere.”

“Yeah? Was it the one you were playing for me the other night?”

Harry shook his head through another bite of his food and swallowed.

“Think we’re gonna do tha’ one next week. We were just messin’ ‘round w’ this one. Doubt I’ll ever go back to it after today.”

“Well, can I at least hear it before you scrap it?”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and peered around the room, trying to locate the hard drive that held all of their practice runs and demos.

“Did they take the laptop when they left?” he asked.

“Nah, it’s still here. Let me go get it,” Jeff promptly shimmied out of his seat, stuffed to the brim with tofu and bamboo shoots that were mixed into his soup, making him move a bit slower than he had earlier.

Whilst Jeff was digging around in the back room in search of the song Harry was almost certain would get lost deep down in the numerous files of unfinished songs and melodies, Y/N tapped Harry’s stomach with her pointer finger to get his attention and opened her mouth, signaling she wanted another bite of his food. He dropped the veggies into her mouth gingerly, making sure to avoid staining his shirt or accidentally dropping a carrot on Y/N’s nose.

“Thank you for comin’. Missed ye’ all day,” Harry spoke in a whisper so that only Y/N could hear him.

“Missed you too,” she mumbled through her chewing, “She doesn’t move much when you’re gone. Think she misses you more.”

In that moment, he was thankful she wasn’t lying on his chest, because she most certainly would have heard his heart combust and scatter like confetti into his gut at the mention of his sweet baby girl that was set to arrive in a few months time.

“’S she kickin’ right now?”

A wide grin appeared on Y/N’s face and she nodded, taking the chopsticks out of Harry’s hand so she could move it down her waist and press it against the underside of her belly where their daughter was seemingly doing summersaults in the presence of her father. 

It always amazed him, each and every time. How there was a human being growing inside of her and he had a hand in creating her. Although he hadn’t met her just yet, he was postive she was the most precious and sweetest creature he’s ever known.

Bursting the sugary sweet bubble they’d trapped themselves in, Jeff arrived promptly with the laptop tucked under his arm. He brought it to life, skimming the dozens of folders within the drive until he found the one he was looking for. 

“Found it!” he announced to the room.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

As if it would allow her to hear the song more clearly, Y/N lifted her head from Harry’s lap and sat up beside him instead. She leaned against his shoulder, letting her fingers intertwine with the ones attached to his arm that was pressed against hers.

The beginnings of an electric guitar and Harry’s voice filled her ears, Y/N immediately clocking the sound as something unlike anything he had previewed for her thus far. It was heavier, more akin to the style of an actual rockstar that graced stages across the country in tight pants and ooze sex appeal from every pore in their body (not that Harry didn’t already do that). 

Next, she heard the heavy pounding of drums, to which she gave Sarah a raise of her brow and look of approval for her skill. She had absolutely no explanation for the way this song Harry had been so pertinent about tossing in the trash was making her press her thighs together to mediate the heat rising within, but it was there. The dull, persistent throb that made her wish her and Harry were the only ones in the room so that she could straddle him right there on the couch and have her way with him.

Pregnancy hormones. Yeah, that’s what it was. Well, at least that’s what she was telling herself.

And then she heard the chorus.

I’m having your baby. It’s none of your business.

She cut her eyes to Harry, who was undeniably blushing and had his face buried in his free hand as if he was scared to see her reaction. He was smirking underhead his palm, knowing good and well that she was staring at him as the lyrics repeated themselves over and over and over again. When he finally decided to peak through his fingers, he was met with her wide-eyed and stunned expression, to which he burst into a fit of giggles that shook his belly and made his sides ache. Y/N couldn’t help but join in on the laughter, shaking her head at his bluntness, for lack of a better word. 

The song wasn’t long at all as it was clearly choppy and unfinished and a product of Harry, as he’d said in his own words, messing around with his friends. Sure, it needed some cleaning up and could use a bit more substinance, but it was by no means bad or anything worth chucking in her opinion. It was very much a song written about her, so she felt like she could stand confidently by that opinion.

“Well, shit,” Y/N huffed as the instruments came to an abrupt hault and all that was left of the recording were dwindling laughter and shuffles in the background while whoever was in charge of the sound board moved to cut the microphones, “That gets right to the point. Doesn’t it?”

“That’s what we said,” Sarah managed to get out in between wiping the mascara from under her eyes that ran when she was laughing at her dear friend’s reaction.

“I mean, I don’t think it’s bad at all. Needs some cleaning up, but I think you should keep working on it,” Y/N said honestly, prying Harry’s hand from his face so she could kiss him on the cheek.

“Oh, gee. Thanks. Didn’t know you were on payroll as a producer too,” Jeff called out contemptuously.

“Umm, without me, you wouldn’t have half of this album. Think I can say whatever I want about the matter. Thank you very much.”

Harry pressed his lips together and pointed at her with his fingers shaped like a handgun as if to corroborate what Y/N had just said.

“Yeh actually liked it though?” there was a hint of surprise in his voice.

He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected a smack on the chest or a scold, not praise.

Y/N smiled at the bashful boy beside her, picking a piece of fuzz from the collar of his shirt and flicking it off to the wayside.

“’S gonna have everyone’s panties in a bunch, that’s for sure.”

She picked up Harry’s arm and draped it around her shoulder so she could properly snuggle into his side.

“That damn kiwi,” she said with a playful sigh.

“Pardon?” Harry looked down, bewildered, to see Y/N busying herself by gently poking the taut skin of her tummy in attempt to get their baby to poke her back with her tiny hand or foot, there was really no way of telling which was which.

“That’s when I said that to you,” Y/N yawned, “I was craving kiwi and fuming mad because you ate the last one and when you asked why I was so worked up about it, I told you it’s because I was having your baby, but it wasn’t any of your business.”

The recollection immediately dawned on Harry, making him smack his forehead with a closed fist.

“That’s where that came from! I couldn’t remember what happened, but I’ve always thought that was the funniest thing you’ve ever said t’ me.”

“Ehhh, it’s top ten for sure. Wouldn’t say the funniest, but it’s up there.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her indifference, but he won’t lie and say that it wasn’t one of the things he loved about her the most. How even though she can be the biggest pain in his ass, she always finds a way to bring light into his life and make him smile even it seems next to impossible.

“So yeh think it should stay in the running?”

“Definitely. If I wasn’t already pregnant, I’d beg you to put one in me right here in this studio after hearing it,” she said nonchalantly.

Jeff mocked a gagging noise, “I think I’m genuinely going to hurl.” 

“Oh, be an adult for once in your life, Azoff!” Y/N quipped.

Harry stiffled his laughter into her neck, tickling the tiny hairs that rose to goosebumps with each breath he exhaled onto her skin. 

“I don’t think you understand, Y/N. I hear about you two every damn day in this studio. ‘S just like you said, the whole bloody album is about you two not being able to keep your hands off of each other for five seconds. ‘M surprised it’s taken you this long t’ get knocked up.”

Harry remained tight-lipped, having reduced his giggle fit to a minimum as he watched two of the most important people in his life bicker back and forth like children fighting over a toy. He supposes, in this case, he is the toy in question, but it was entertaining nonetheless.

“Gonna make a damn good album, though. Isn’t it?” Y/N’s haughty smirk answered that question all on its own.

[akitohsworld]

Disclaimer: Thank you for all the love on my last smut fic. But well, since I want to commit, Imma give you another for this new year. I crave a more dominantly portrayed Simeon (I'm a switch, I have my craves ok) because I think he be the most shady of them all. I still need to accustom myself to writing these and get better, so extremely kinky shit will have to wait, but I did my best with this one as I vow to always do :D

Happy New Year everyone ❤️🌚👉👉

Warnings: NSFW, smut, light BDSM (collar etc.), fetishizing religion (Christianity), mentions of edging

Divinely Demonic (Simeon X GN!Reader)

"Take these off for me, would you?", his voice sounded innocent, but his eyes had this sadistic subtext to them. Taken aback, you reached for one of his arms, to take off his glove.

"Ah, (y/N)", you stopped, "I'd prefer you use your mouth."

An innocent smile tugged at the angel's lips. You huffed silently.

So this is how he wanted to play it?

Being in a relationship with Simeon for some time now, you could definitely say that he was all parts of a perfect lover and more. He was kind, caring and he conformed to your wishes as much as he could. For him bringing you happiness was his greatest joy and, if he was being honest, he never thought that he would feel that way about anyone. With different parts of your relationship, came different and new things to try and experience together, and so it had been a bit awkward to open up about kinks and fantasies at first. Especially, since Simeon was an angel and you didn't know where you had to draw the line. But, like everything in a good relationship, communication and an honest approach was key to fulfilling both of your desires, and indulging in this angel's fantasies in particular had you blushing and squirming in all the right ways.

You couldn't lie, the idea of Simeon's perfect, angelic, kind mask crumbling off to make space for that beautiful sadistic nature of his, sprinkled with raw un-honeyed disdain, made you quiver in excitement.

You provocatively shifted on the bed, hand grazing his arm as you took yours back to lean into for support. A shimmer glistened ever so slightly in Simeon's blue eyes when he grazed his gloved thumb over your bottom lip.

Your eyes trained on his as your lips parted, sensually engulfing his thumb, careful not to bite down on his finger. Teeth biting at the thin cloth, then pulling at it cautiously. Doing the same with his other glove afterwards. But this time, you made it a point to kiss his fingers, before taking them into your mouth, eyes trained on his. Simeon's breath hitched.

"(y/N)..", your hand traced his abdomen lightly, before suddenly sliding it into his pants, making him hiss as you palmed his already erect cock, proceeding to apply pressure to it deliciously slow.

You weren't going down without a fight. Not that it mattered, top or bottom, both was very enjoyable. But who could decline a bit more spice?

Your lips found his in an attempt to distract him from your other free hand, already pulling down the zipper as you felt him sigh into your mouth. Your fingers traced his slit just how he liked it, and he must admit, he was this close to let you just service him right then and there. Much to your dismay though, the angel smiled against the kiss. Indulging you, feeling you up himself as his tongue devoured your mouth, hands uncharacteristically squeezing your ass. He moaned.

"(y/N)"

You hummed against his lips.

The angel's hands were causing a tingling sensation on your skin as they traveled up your sides and a pleased sigh escaped your mouth.

"(y/N)."

He grabbed you by your chin and you could feel the excitement burning into your core at the change of tone in his voice. Innocence long forgotten. Simeon's eyes were dark with lust and-

"Ahh.. Where's your patience, little lamb?"

-you swore you saw a sadistic shimmer in them.

He chuckled, shaking his head in a pseudo-disappointed manner, pulling down your pants swiftly. You let out a surprised gasp as he pushed you on the bed.

"Sim- hah", his fingers traced your clothed sex, already wet with your fluids. He applied pressure to it, fingers trailing its features in a teasing build up, earning a gasp from your lips. Your inner walls clenched around something that wasn't there and you felt your core aching for his touch. Your body started squirming as you desperately tried to hold back your voice, while Simeon rubbed the spots that made you whine and hold onto him with need. When his slender fingers finally proceeded to enter you, moans and gasps followed as they signaled your growing impatience.

He slid down between your legs nerve-wrackingly slow, planting lingering kisses on your chest, abdomen and between your thighs, while your undergarments were tossed aside in a swift motion.

"You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

His breath tickled on your skin as you felt his eyes bore into your soul. You said nothing and just looked at him tauntingly, a façade. In reality you wanted nothing else for him than to ruin you.

A smirk formed on his lips for a split second. Simeon's expression was no longer restrained, but clearly amused. Without warning his mouth enveloped your sex, tongue sliding around what made your hole clench and shiver. .

God, you wanted to touch him so badly.

"Simeon please- haah...nnh-", you felt a coil in your stomach tighten with each suck, each lick and stroke of his tongue against your sensitive spots. He groaned against your sex, sending vibrations through the sensitive nerves. You were so close, so so close-

"Fuck- Simeon-.."

He moved away.

You let out a very frustrated groan.

"No... Why?-"

"You didn't answer my question, little lamb."

He was mocking you.

"I-..", your fingers clenched at the sheets, "I forgot what you asked..."

Simeon sighed, seemingly disappointed.

"Oh no. That won't do", his gaze sent shivers down your spine, "That won't do at all."

He stood up, getting something from his nightstand.

A collar with a chain, and a Bible.

Your eyes widened. His cape slid down to the floor with a quiet thud.

"Now, now", the angel, still fully clothed hovered over you, "like we practiced."

The collar found your neck tilting it upwards as he gave the chain a light tug. He then proceeded to place the now open Bible next to your head.

"What do you say? Shall I forgive you?"

You breathed in sharply. Your mind was in shambles from all the teasing. And normally you hung onto Simeon's lips whenever he quoted the scriptures during sex because it was just so hot to you. But that didn't mean that you knew everything by heart. The Bible, tauntingly placed beside your head, was not an option. It was just there to test you and you knew that .

Your nose scrunched a bit as you tried to remember.

"M-Matthew 14 to s-"

SMACK.

His hand slapped your thigh.

You bit back a moan.

The numbers always messed you up, it was hard to remember them.

It didn't help that his fingers prodded your entrance before provocatively taking his cock out of the restraints of his clothes, rubbing it against your sex. Your hips ground up for more friction.

He just send you a teasing smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You were saying?"

You knew the answer was there, right beside your head, but no, no Simeon didn't like brats. Well maybe he did, but he didn't take too kindly to them. And today you were just not patient enough for hours of edging.

You felt his soft, warm hands rubbing at your thighs, spreading them slowly to see you better.

You were so lovely to him. Already so needy and throbbing. But that didn't mean he was going to let you off easy. A light tug on your collar told you he expected an answer.

"M-Matthew..... 6: 14 to 16, says ahh..", his fingers spread out your entrance, "F-for if you forgive them-"

He tugged at the chain, harshly.

"Guh- oth- other people when they do-"

Slowly he entered you, feeling your walls clench and sucking him in. A loud moan leaving your mouth. More, faster, deeper, is all you could think about as your legs attempted to draw him closer. Simeon groaned, brows furrowed as he indulged in the feeling of your aching entrance around him. "If you mnh do well" , he pounded into you once, hard, a guttural moan escaping you, " I'll let you cum, okay?"

That was not a question.

You nodded aggravatingly.

He then started to move at a steady, but rough pace.

"Mnh- hah siinn against you, ngh- your heavenly F-father will also...", your eyes traced down Simeon's beautiful features, " forgive you.  But if you don't-"

Another harsh tug at the collar took your breath away, followed by a particular hard thrust against your hips. You felt the coil tightening inside your stomach again, trying very hard to bite back your moans and do as you're told. Just concentrate, concentrate but... You were captivated by his flushed cheeks, his skin glistening with sweat and his eyes dripping with lust.

Good God, he was so pretty.

"Mnh Do not forgive others", your gaze lingers at his crotch, shamelessly and hungrily, " their... Uh their-"

Your vision was beginning to blur, he was hitting all the right spots. As such, it was beginning to feel harder and harder to recite in a comprehensive way. Every sound coming out of your throat threating to be a moan, rather than a word. Although, that's just what Simeon wanted. He loved to see you melt away under his touch, struggling to be good for him. It was the most delicious thing, seeing you squirm under him, trying so hard to make him proud and praise you.

The wet sounds his thrusts were making echoed througout the room, ragged breaths and low moans the only thing reaching your ears.

"Ahgh-", a cut out moan escaped your throat as he tugged on the chain once again, this time with more force.

"Are you mn..distracted, little lamb?", his voice brushed your ears like feathers as your gaze shifted up to his eyes again. He slowed down his pace teasingly, making you whine. "Done already?"

You shook your head. You wanted nothing more than to make him fuck you into oblivion at this point.

"Then continue. Unless", he lowered himself onto you, lips brushing yours, "you want to be punished?" your thighs clenched at his hips involuntarily.

"Their...", you furrowed your brows in concentration, hands clenching the sheets, "sins, your Fa-"

He pounded into you harder.

"Hahh- fuck-", a harsh tug on your collar took your breath away once again, but he wasn't slowing down. On the contrary.

"hah..Continue", his lips curled into a full blown sadistic smirk. His face darkened by shadow from the light hitting him from behind made him look so divine yet so demonic, eyes shimmering like sapphires drenched in blood.

Simeon himself was getting slightly impatient, what you did to him, he never experienced before. Your walls kept sucking him in, trying to keep him there in a delicious tide, as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Your moans and prayers tugging at his own restraints, when your body reacted to him in all the right ways.

You wanted to touch him. You needed to touch him. With pleading eyes and furrowed brows you tried to concentrate one last time. Gaze fixed on him, as you recited the last part.

"Yo-hah-your", he hit a particular spot with force, your back arched and made you almost shout the rest, "F-faather- aahhn- will not forgive yoUR SINS!!"

Simeon's smile widened while cupping your cheek.

"Such a good little lamb.", you felt his fingers tracing your sex again with urgency, while he hovered over you, letting go of the chain and pressing his forehead to yours lovingly. He bit his lip, muffling his ragged breaths and moans that dared to escape him each time his hips slammed into yours.

Finally, your hands buried into his locks, kissing him passionately as you drowned out your moans in each others mouths. Tongues intertwining as if you tried to suck out your souls, claiming each other.

"(y/N)", you parted, hooded eyes staring back at you, while both of you let the pleasure take over. Simeon's hips crashed into yours with more vigor every time, hitting that one spot that made your back arch and your walls clench deliciously around his aching cock. It was all so much. Your hands found their way under his shirt, clawing at his sensitive back. Your legs pulled him even closer towards you, flexing with each thrust. He felt his member dragging along your walls as if you were trying to milk him dry, your body trying to devour everything he was giving you and more.

"Hng Simeon"

His hand movements sped up together with his pace. The coil was tightening and tightening. He was close. And so were you.

The slapping sound of flesh against flesh mixed and matched the groans and pants of this ravaging play of pleasure. You were clenching him so forcefully now, every movement, every twitch of his cock mirrored in moisture of your hole. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Hah- mn- Simeon please, please, please-", your fingers were clawing at the angel's back so much, your knuckles turned white. With powerful thrusts dragging along your walls and his fingers moving over just the right spots a loud guttural moan accompanied your spasming walls , covering him in your juices as you were driven over the edge. He moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the feeling of your orgasm bringing about his own while he bit down on your neck in an attempt to deal with all the pleasure he was feeling. His wings had sprung out and his body was shaking wildly. As you rode out your high, you held him close, his moans still spilling out of his mouth.

He rocked his cock in and out of you in a slower more sloppy pace as his arms held your head, pressing his face into your neck, while your hands gently graced through his locks and then found his wings, causing him to shiver and groan, hands clawing into your shoulders.

With time you had come to understand that angels experienced orgasms way longer and were highly sensitive and vulnerable in those moments.

"It's okay...", you panted and lovingly kissed his head, "I'm here.. it's okay.. you did amazing."

A low chuckle errupted against your neck.

"I- ahh.. should be saying that...", he turned his head to face you, eyes full of love and adoration, "You did ama-nnh-zing, little lamb.."

Now it was your turn to chuckle.

"Let's take a bath later, shall we?"

He hummed quietly and nuzzled into your neck again.

"Yeah.. let's do that"

In moments like these, you don't need to say it, to get it across. Because you share it and you feel that.

[florencwrites]

all is fair in love〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay cannot help but desperately promise himself that she will remember him

part 2

"She doesn't know my name, George." A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, almost closer to a huff than a sigh, honestly. His left hand ran over his face, a slight tremble detectable in his movements. His other hand held his phone close to his cheek, both the other sides of the line staying silent.

Hesitation on his breath, George spoke up again, leaving a few seconds for his response, just offering some time for his friend to calm down. "She will, Dream."

"You don't know that." The blonde immediately retorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's pathetic attempt of making him feel better. "Doctor said it could take years."

"Dude, you've been in love with this girl for years, when she didn't even know you existed at all," Sapnap interjected, somehow trying to relieve the tension by cracking a light joke. "I'm sure it'll work out again."

"Took her years to like me back." Clay chuckled, "I was obsessed." His mind was clouded by pictures of her, of them together. When they were just little kids, littering the streets for hours trying to find an agenda. Their teen years, how he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to ask her to prom, for years in a row. Her cheeky smile, expressive eyebrows, and those eyes he loved that much, those eyes that had been shut closed for days now. Fuck, he ran another hand over his face, up through his locks, he would never let her out of his sight again. Not when shit like this happened when he wasn't around. He'd never forgive himself for it, never let himself live it down. His eyebrows folded in agony, once again entirely overtaken by the idea of her not getting better, never becoming her old self anymore.

"Oh, we know, Dream." A slight chuckle breathed through his words, "She's so cute, Nick, AH! She let me hold her hand!" He mimicked his friend with a higher tone of voice, the brit quickly joining in, "GEORGE! She added me back! I'm so pathetically in love with her, George."

"I hate you guys." His voice sounded meek, soft, vulnerable. He loved them with all his heart, always knowing how to lift his mood, how to comfort him when he needed them to. "Thank you, for -uh- everything."

"Yeah dude, of course." Nick's smile was shining through his voice, audible even through the wacky discord call. George kept silent, but it was clear; they'd always be there to help him get through whatever it was, for however long it was needed.

It took three months, two weeks and several days for him to get her to smile again, a few more days after that for a laugh, God knows he could use it. The glint that once occupied her gaze had now retaken its deserved place in her eyes again after all, her eyebrows finally dancing with her expressions once again. A few days ago, she'd even let him hold her hand while they watched TLC on the tiny little television in her hospital room. He'd bugged her about buying her a bigger one every time he came by, which was practically every day, now that he thought about it.

His friends understood that he couldn't join their streams as often as before, they still offered him a spot in their Jackbox lobby every time, and Wilbur took it to himself to make sure he was never left out of the script, even if he bailed on them more often than not. It killed George especially, to see his friend like this, barely eating, sleeping all the time he wasn't spending sitting by her bed. He realized he'd never worried more about anyone than he did about Clay those hazy months. His own channels were suffering greatly, too, but that wasn't even close to being on his mind.

"Hi there." Clay waved slightly, wiggling his fingers nervously as he opened the door to her room. His eyes glanced to hers, a faint smile on her features as she muttered out a greeting. His gaze flickered through the room. He remembered first coming here those weeks ago, the deadly white walls that caged him into his own mind, the panic that wouldn't leave his veins, no matter what he did. He'd sat there for hours, the nurses having to send him home every single day. The lack of personal items making him greatly uncomfortable. Gradually he would take more and more decorations into her room, starting with some flowers, bringing in several stacks of plushies a little later. George, Nick, and Darryl had decided to get together and get her a Switch, naturally, Darryl had convinced them to get the new Animal Crossing for her. Clay decided to throw in some Mario Kart, more for himself than his comatose girlfriend. Then, the news broke on Twitter, and the drawings flooded his PO box, the one he now apparently shared with her. Pictures upon pictures hung on her walls, he even went as far as getting her Christmas lights above her bed, some photos of their childhood, too. At this moment, her eyes had yet to see the light of day since her accident, he did it all in complete silence, perhaps a small part of him didn't just do it for her, but to calm his own nerves a little, too.

But now, she was back. She played his dumb games with him, joked about his awful stubble, and thus, let him hold her hand, too. God, how he had missed the warmth of her fingers with his, anytime she'd let him touch her, shivers ran through his body; goosebumps covering the entirety of his skin. She'd loved the games they had collected for her over the course of these months, playing them daily. And even though she had no idea who these incredibly attentive people were, she knew she cared about them greatly. She'd asked Clay about them several times, even going as far as recording a short voice memo, thanking them for everything they'd done for her and Clay together.

"How've you been?" His mellow voice made her senses tingle, familiarity had settled for a few days now, anytime he spoke she'd get flashes of warmth, radiating through her abdomen. He didn't know this, of course, because what if it was nothing? What if she just set him up for heartbreak once again?

But he, he didn't care. His heart ached for her when they were together, but even more so when they were not. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself some of these days, realizing how pathetic it must look for everyone around him, how often he had sat beside her bed without a single affirmation of recognition, of progress. How often he had interrupted his friends' calls, absolutely heaving with sobs, weeping for it to end, for it all to end. How often he had sat down on the freezing tiles of his shower, trying to drown out his thoughts, especially after the days he wasn't able to drag himself out of bed. The days he had wanted anything but to stay confined to his fucking sheets, the days all he wanted was for her to softly whisper his name, exactly in the way she used to do. The way she'd done when he was playing with her, fucking around, she'd whisper his name in the most loving way he had ever heard a woman do. Her voice was a song he couldn't get out of his head, no matter what melody was playing in the background; she was all that was ever on his mind. All he wanted was for it to fucking end.

That changed, of course, the day she'd finally awoken from her outrageous slumber, the day her pupils met his. Nothing but confusion and utter fear laced in them, he was so thankful for any form of life, he hadn't even noticed what her eyes were really telling him. Her melodic voice filled his ears, bound to echo through his head for the rest of the day, the least. "I've been better."

"That's good, that's good." His toothy smile subconsciously earned her one, too. "You, uh, you watched that show I mentioned?"

"I did!" Her fucking smile made all of it worth it, all his pain and suffering, all he had endured. It had always been just about her and her fucking smile, all along. Since they were children, he reckoned, he hadn't cared about anything as much as he cared about being the one to tug up the corners of her lips.

A hearty chuckle left his lips, his hand slowly hovering over the side of the bed as he finally wrapped her hand in his again, this time her being the one to interlock their fingers. He smiled. "You said," He dropped his head as a giggle escaped him, "You always used to say how you'd give your life to be able to watch it again, like -uh- like it was the first time."

A low hum vibrated through her chest as she tried to hold in her snickers. "You're telling me I almost went braindead for fucking Teen Wolf?" She burst out in hiccuped laughs, trashing her legs around imperceptibly under the scratchy hospital covers. "I need to get my priorities right this time around."

His stomach tightened at her words, she'd always told him about how much she hated that stupid show, but for some reason he always caught her coming back to it any time she felt even the slightest nudge of sadness. Braindead. She was minutes away from being braindead, unsalvageable. His eyebrows furrowed, and he was sure to be subconsciously squeezing her hand a little too much. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to break the unspoken barrier he had set for himself; don't let her see you cry. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm still here."

She tugged at his hand, offering him her other one as well. He took it, obviously unable to refuse any contact she offered him. He hung over her body a little as he held both of her hands, she pulled his far most one delicately, silently asking for him to stand. And as soon as he did, she pulled him down in a hug, completely engulfing the entirety of his body in hers, only their clothes and the uncomfortable sheets separating them. She wrapped her arms as tightly around him as she could as his soft sobs slowly started filling up the room. The silence was overwhelming, only his whimpers there to break through. Her eyes welled up, too, she'd lie if she said they didn't. He was holding her, wrapping his arms underneath her back, not planning on letting go anytime soon. "I'm still here, Clay."

"Are you?" He muttered against the hoodie she was wearing, his hoodie he had given to her when she'd first woken up and complained about feeling like a lab rat in her stupid gown. He had stupidly told her he would marry her even in her blue-ish hospital gown, which was the most adoring, beautiful thing a man had ever told her, especially would she have recognized him at that time. Alas, he was just a man in her room, nothing more nothing less. "Are you really?"

"I-" She stumbled on her line, completely sure of what it was he was fronting at. "I will be." She decided, "I will be soon."

"I'll wait for however long it takes." His shuddered breath made the hairs in her neck stand up straight against her skin. She closed her eyes, her face still plastered in the crook of his neck, his cologne taking over her senses, his warmth being able to make her feel safer than she had ever felt before. Her voice hadn't ever sounded as painfully vulnerable as it did that second, "It wouldn't be fair -you, for me.." A heavy breath. "It wouldn't be fair for me to expect that from you."

He hushed her gently, another sniffle leaving his nose immediately after. "All is fair in love."

[curiosity-killed]

bad ideas and good intentions

Word count: 1280

The sword sinks into the sand point first, casting a quivering stripe of light across Bastan as he drops down beside it. “I just don’t know,” he groans, laying out fully. Overhead, the morning sun is still weak enough to be diffused by the spare leaves of the grove, and the breeze sets the shadows to a flickering dance. “You could just admit you fancy him,” Peronell teases, sitting down by Bastan’s hip. When Bastan looks over to shoot him an annoyed glare, Peronell’s wearing an unrepentant grin. Bastan’s look only makes his grin broaden, his eyebrows lift upwards in amusement. “Come on, if he offered would you or would you not say yes?” Peronell prompts. “I’m not jealous; I’d sleep with him, too.”

Bastan snorts, dropping his head back. Despite Peronell’s teasing, he really hasn’t thought much of the prince in this way. He’s attractive enough, in that way that all people who are masters of a craft can be, but his lean competence incites little feeling of romance in Bastan’s heart. Mortifyingly, he almost wants to protect the younger man, take care of him.

“I don’t think that offer’s going to come soon,” he says instead. “He doesn’t fuck, remember?” Despite being intended for it, the comment doesn’t bring out Peronell’s belly-deep laugh or earn any gentle mockery like usual. “Siobhán says he had a lover,” Peronell says instead, soft. Bastan sits upright, pushing a hand into the sand to prop himself up. “What,” he manages. Peronell’s playing with the sword in his lap, toying with the jackal head at the end of the grip. When he speaks, it is graver than usual and gentler. Even in dire situations, Bastan hasn’t seen him so subdued. There is genuine grief in his tone when he speaks again. “One of his knights,” he says. “One who rode with him when he was attacked.” The knowledge hits Bastan like a hard punch to the heart. Understanding is a painful thing that makes his stomach drop to think of their previous jests. No one survived that attack, and the prince must know it at least as well as they do. Did he see his lover cut down? Did he see the life fade from their eyes? “I didn’t think he would…” Bastan trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

In truth, he’s rarely thought of the prince as human at all. For so long, he was a gruesome shadow looming in memory and fear. Even now, beaten and abandoned, he holds himself so tight and cool, as if to distance himself from the vulnerabilities of normal men. The gentleness of love, the cleaving ache of loss, seem incongruous with the icy demeanor he maintains. “Shit,” he finally says. “Yeah,” Peronell agrees. “Siobhán said he was the one who pushed the prince into the river, too.” It’s a bleak kind of poetry, Bastan supposes, to be saved by the sacrifice of the one he loves. No wonder the prince has behaved as he has. To be injured and trapped here would be bad enough, but to have suffered such a loss as well and have no time to grieve it – impossibly, Bastan feels even worse about how they’ve treated the prince. He’d assumed the prince’s uncanny silence this week had just been pain from the lashing, but now he wonders if the grief is just setting in as well. As much as he and Peronell joke, and although the prince is only a few years younger than them, that doesn’t make him old or experienced in these things. They’re all still in that stumbling age, like new fawns with their legs born to run but not quite sure of their balance yet. Bastan can’t imagine losing Peronell like that and can’t help wondering how long the prince and his lover had been together, whether it had been a lighthearted crush or something deeper, if they’d thought together of a longer future. He draws his knees up to wrap his arms around them, foot brushing against Peronell’s. “Do you think he wants to talk about it?” Peronell asks. “Does he seem like he wants to talk about anything?” Bastan scoffs. Peronell wrinkles his nose, shoulders slumping in resignation. “It just feels like we should do something,” he says. Pursing his lips, Bastan doesn’t answer immediately. He’s thought the very same thing, and yet he has no solutions. Before, when they’d all been colluding together, it had almost been a game. They’d secreted the Black Prince of Arradine in a shed, hidden from the whole village. There had been a kind of giddiness in how they’d slip away and snag food or supplies without getting caught. Now, though, it feels as if the whole gravity of the situation has suddenly hit all at once. The prince’s injuries were bad enough to begin with that they shouldn’t have risked keeping him hidden. With the lashing on top, he seems wholly hollowed out, and Bastan can’t help feeling complicit in the carving. He should have stepped forward sooner, should have put himself between the prince and Romilin, should’ve done something to stop the barbarism. At the time, he’d felt almost removed from the whole scenario, incapable of believing his own neighbors and friends could be so violent. His gaze falls on the sword still sticking out of the sand only an arm’s length away. It wasn’t from any of the prince’s fallen soldiers, though to be honest, that was less due to respect than convenience; they’d picked up the swords almost absently, a detached curiosity about the atrocities they’d witnessed and committed. Bastan tilts his head, frowning a little as he considers the inert weapon. “Hey,” he says, “the prince is known for fighting, right?” “Are you seriously asking if the Bloodletter Prince is known for fighting?” Peronell demands. Even in his periphery, the look Peronell shoots him is piercing in its confusion. Bastan rolls his eyes and shoves Peronell in response. “I’m saying, we might not be able to help, but maybe we could give him a distraction,” he retorts. Peronell catches on quickly enough, canting his head in consideration. “We have always wanted to learn,” he agrees. “I mean, Mamán might kill us if he reinjures himself, but…” Bastan rolls one hand palm-up in an ‘oh well’ gesture, and Peronell snorts. “We’ve deserved it for less,” he points out. Bastan laughs and pushes himself to his feet. If they were more inclined to follow Aeridian customs, he thinks his mamán might be a candidate for sainthood. As it is, she’s had to suffer through more ill-planned plots between the four of them than anyone deserves. How she hasn’t packed up and moved to Tikana after all is a small wonder to him. “You know, I don’t think this is what your da intended when he told us all those stories about knights growing up,” Peronell remarks as he stands. The thought brings a small smile to Bastan’s lips, the age-worn memory of sitting at his father’s knee, entranced by the grand tales of the knights of Arradine. So many years have passed, so many different views of the knights and their blood-lashed nation. Some days it’s hard even to believe he was that wide-eyed child. “If he could have expected any of this to happen, he would’ve been a druid and would never have settled down in po-dunk Farangad,” Bastan retorts, nudging Peronell with his elbow. Peronell laughs, and together they walk back to the village. There’s a new buoyancy to their steps, hope coming hand-in-hand with a plan, no matter how ill-fated. Bad ideas have always been their best source of fun.  

[hazeleyedleto]

Matters Of The Heart Part Two

       You hold a hand up to your mouth, stifling a yawn that doesn’t go missed by Jared’s piercing eyes. “Still not sleeping good yet?”, he tosses out the question and drinks from the steaming mug in front of him. The two of you are currently sitting in a coffee shop a few blocks away from where you’re partaking in painting a mural on the side of the old library, with several other local artists.

       "Not really", you shrug, tracing your thumb up and down the handle of your own coffee cup. You had been engulfed in outlining the background for the main focus of your part of the art piece, way ahead of your schedule, when Jared stumbled along and invited you for a drink since he hadn’t seen you in a couple of days. It was a little chilly out for this time of the year, so you agreed, figuring that a little break and a warm beverage wouldn’t hurt anything. After submerging your paint brush in an old bucket of water and letting the others know you would be back in a bit, you and Jared headed to the cozy little cafe.

       Jared gives a small smile, but doesn’t push you any further on the subject. He mentioned something about smoking some pot the third day he’d seen you with dark bags under your eyes. He figured it would help you mellow out, and make slumbering a regular thing for you again. Your first choice would have been to drink away any cares, but that was quickly weeded out with any smell even resembling alcohol making your stomach churn angrily. That bitter scent was now tied in with regret, it being a big culprit in helping you mess up the best thing in your life; Shannon. When you were sixteen and your parents had passed away, you were sent to live with your aunt. It was there in your sophomore year of high school that you met Shannon, Jared, and Tomo, those three guys becoming the best of friends to you.

       It was eating you alive that in a very short span of time, you did to Shannon’s fiance Emma what Jackson had done to you; and it wasn’t something that you would ever feel good about. Any time you would think about it, shame would burn you to no end. In all honesty you didn’t intentionally set out to have sex with Shannon, you’re still baffled at how it even came to happen, yet at the same time grateful for the heavy drinking that only let you recall minimal details.

       In the two weeks following the incident, you and Shannon exchanged a few texts about it, you telling him that it was his choice if he wanted to tell Emma what happened; but you would take the secret to your grave. You were adamant about how things should be; and Shannon’s calls, messages, and knocks on your door all went ignored. In your mind, you’re lower than scum and Shannon deserves better than you from a best friend. To further that, you were punishing yourself by not allowing yourself any vices to numb your feelings.

       Jared had now become your number one. He practically bought out the stock of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream from Costco for you and camped out on your couch for a whole week, lending a damn good shoulder for you to cry on when you needed to, and just was a comforting presence. As far as you knew, he had no idea what transpired between you and Shannon, and you were more than happy to have the breakup with Jackson to mask your sadness at ending the friendship.

       Once your drinks are finished, you deem it time for you to go back and finish painting, with Jared kindly accompanying on the walk when a familiar black car creeps up, stopping right beside you guys on the sidewalk and rolling the window down. “Bro, we gotta head out to Neon Lights”, Tomo calls out from behind the steering wheel to Jared.

       "Oh shit, I forgot about that", Jared’s eyes widen and he shows an apologetic expression.

       "Monique, wanna come with?“, Tomo invites you along. They have a small show to perform at a rinky dink bar in a few towns over. "Come have a couple drinks while we play.”

       You do your best to pretend like you don’t see Shannon sitting in the passenger seat, looking between Jared and Tomo.

       "Yeah. Come on", your former best friend, or whatever his label is right now chimes in, hope adorning his face.

       You shake your head. “Nah. Still not over my last binge. Thinking about drinking makes me nauseous. Besides”, you nervously pull the beanie tighter over your hair trying your hardest to avoid Shannon sitting in the passenger seat. “I gotta finish something up”.        "Just what the hell happened last time you got shit-faced?“, a curious Jared inquires.

       Thankfully Tomo decides to take a path down memory lane before you can try to force out a lie. "I’m still not over the time you flashed the cops”, he exclaims, making all of you erupt in laughter at the reminder.

       All four of you were drunk and walking along the main strip of whatever town you were in, bar-hopping when somehow a game of truth or dare got started up, and you got dared to flash the next car that came by. Never one to pass up an adventure, you pulled your shirt and bra up, giving a peek of your boobs to the man driving by in a yellow Camaro. He honked his horn in response, spurring the game on even further. “Again”, an easily amused Tomo requested, three sheets to the wind and easily entertained.

       "Dude, no. Just my luck it’ll be the po-po next", you waved your hand in dismissal.

       "Ten bucks says she doesn’t have the balls", Shannon baited you.

       "Game on", you countered and waited for another to car to drive along, considering it was two o'clock in the morning and traffic was extremely light. Not much time passed before another vehicle advanced and both your shirt and bra we’re yanked you by your own hands once again.

       Low and behold, no sooner than said vehicle drove past when a pair of flashing blue and red lights on top of the car suddenly came on and illuminated the night sky.

        You don’t know who took off running first, but you decided to try and follow suit. Just as luck would have it, you ended up landing on your knees six feet away after twisting your ankle.

       Less than five minutes later after being let off with a warning by two amused cops, Shannon, Jared, and Tomo all crept out from the alley they had dodged into. “Fuckers”, you snarled at them and held your hand out to collect your earnings, making them each pay you ten dollars for being chicken shits; along with forcing them take turns giving you piggy back rides back to the car since your ankle was swollen and painful. *************************************************************************        Luckily for you, you’re able to manage minimal contact with Shannon once again for another couple of weeks, but that comes to an abrupt end when he saunters over to the table and invites you to dance. You’re at a party celebrating the release of Thirty Seconds To Mars’ new single, that Jared convinced you to come to. His idea of convincing meant begging you to be his date, literally on his hands and knees; complete with surprising you with a gorgeous navy blue dress in your size, a pair of Jimmy Choo stilletoes, and borrowed accessories from jeweler, Neil Lane. As if you could possibly turn down a night of being pampered like a princess, Jared pulled out one last stop, equipping you with a hair stylist, who swept your hair into an elegant updo; lifting your mood and making you feel excited to leave your apartment for the first time in a month.        This is the first time you’ve been in such close quarters with Shannon since you slept together, making you feel all kinds of awkward, but you can’t very well turn down his request without rousing suspicion, so you follow him out to the dance floor. Once there, you step into his embrace, resting a hand behind his neck, and putting your hand in his, allowing him to hold it up as the two of you began to sway together, you careful to keep your distance and look around as others dance around you. Of course with tension hanging so thickly in the air, the lack of conversation didn’t last nearly as long as you wished it would. Shannon leans down to your ear and speaks just above a whisper, so you’re the only person who can hear. “I know you feel weird since we slept together, but we can put it behind us and pretend it never happened if it’ll make you be my friend again.”

       You still momentarily at his words, searching for the right thing to say, remaining unwilling to catch his gaze. “I’m sorry. For everything. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have drank so much. I-”. Stuff you’ve been dying to get out pours from your mouth until he interrupts.

       Placing a finger under your chin, Shannon lifts your face until your eyes meet his. You’re shocked to be met not with hate or disappointment from his stare, but rather the warmth and easiness that’s usually present in those hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna lose you, Mo”, he pleads.

       His words make your heart skip a beat, mirroring your own views on the subject. Before you can voice your response, you’re suddenly spun in a circle and dipped backwards, forcing you to grab onto Shannon’s shoulders and let out several surprised shrieks. His eyes are twinkling, a hint of mischief pulling at the corners of his lips. “I’ve missed your smile.” His sentence melted away most of the tension you’d been holding onto, and you felt much more at ease than you had in some time.

       "Friends", you nod, giving your answer and stepping closer to Shannon, resting your cheek on his chest, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence, content with the status of your on-again friendship.

       Of course, anyone who is anyone knows happiness never lasts long, and that is such the case when Jackson appears in your line of vision, wearing a smug smirk. As he approaches, he eyes you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Looks like you’ve gained ten pounds since I last saw you. Surprised you could even find somebody to take your fat, lame ass out.”

       Shannon steps forward, “Leave her alone, man”, he warns Jackson, but you push your way in front of him, ready to fight your own battle. The smell of booze is strong on Jackson’s breath as you get closer to him, and after leering down at your chest, he surprises you by having enough audacity to further insult you. “Those boobs though”, he ogles your breasts like you’re an oasis and he’s been lost in the desert for a week. Just the sound of his voice makes your blood boil; if it wasn’t for him, you never would’ve been put in such a predicament with Shannon you’d just escaped from.

       Unable to control your rapidly growing aggravation, you draw your fist back and then up to Jackson’s nose with as much strength as you can muster. No sooner than your hand collides with him, you yelp in pain, stumbling backwards while cradling your hand to your heart. “Fuck, that hurt”, you yell, then stop to admire your handiwork with great satisfaction as blood runs down Jackson’s face. “But it was so worth it!”

you used my own story! so much better with 30stm in it!!!

i love this story so much, and hell yes for the punch in the face, I’d totally probably not do that, but in my head i’d want too. 

Thankks

Chapter 3 plz!

@fyeahproudglambert