#if only someone could tell me what all to wear in the overwhelming heat

[bigolechompers]

as someone who has grown up in weather on the slightly colder side i have a pretty good idea what one might want to wear when it gets cold as fuck and what sort of things someone who lives in a cold as fuck area might wear

but i have no idea what constitutes as sensible wear in a hoot as fuck area like what the hell do you wear and why??

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.

Your body feels full—as though you��d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.

Oh no.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?

He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.

“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.

But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.

“There is no going back now.”

His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.

He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”

It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.

He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!

He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”

No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?

You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…

Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.

As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.

Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.

Guess you’re both freaks.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Back in the dawn of days I worked at Red Robin. It was my first real job after a brief stint at a dog kennel. Many people don’t know this but there’s a costume. A Red Robin mascot costume. I’d never seen it before I worked there.

He’s a violently red bird with empty eyes, a vacant grin, the most atrocious yellow leggings you’ve ever seen, and feet to make any Kingdom heart character swoon. His name was Red.

I was a host, and we were the only ones called upon to wear the costume. We’d don the bright yellow tights and corporate fursuit with someone leading us by the hand so we didn’t crash into everything.

The mesh screen in Red’s gaping mouth was supposed to let the wearer look out. Visibility was a joke. The restaurant was a dark gray haze of bustle from inside Red’s head. So every Tuesday and Thursday there’d be a two hour shift of a designated Bird Buddy leading the visually impaired sacrifice around.

After being forced to wear it during a heat wave and vomiting from the overwhelming temperature, I had vowed to never wear it again. But every new host always had a tiny secret longing to wear it when they first started. This desire never survived the full two hour shift.

So I was working a day shift with a newer host, Lauren, who had been openly enthusiastic to wear it. The manager hustled up to tell us that a little kid was here for his birthday and desperately wanted to see Red. We weren’t scheduled but impromptu requests could be accommodated when the restaurant was slow.

I said, “Great, Lauren can do it and I can be her buddy.”

I grabbed the hapless Lauren and dragged her to the dry goods storage where the suit was stored and where we changed. I closed the door and dragged the suit down. It had a particular greasy ground in smell to it.

Frying food, hot oil, and body odor had all permeated the faux fur with a unique reek. The management mouthed empty nothings that the suit was sent for monthly cleanings. It was common knowledge they were lying through their teeth. The smell of Red was eternal and unchanging.

“Okay, so take off your pants, put on the tights, then step into the body and I’ll zip you up. Then you get a vest and the head goes on last, got it?”

Lauren stared at me. I stared back. She made no move to change.

“Okay…” I repeated, “So you take off your pants and put on the tights?”

Lauren shifted nervously, silent. Not changing.

“Do you need me to turn around…?” It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be shy based on her personality, all the hosts were fairly blasé about changing in front of each other.

“I didn’t….” Her voice dwindled to a decimal only perceivable by bats.

“What’s that?”

Blushing vibrantly she raised her voice to the level of a tiny mouse to squeak, “I’m not wearing underwear….”

I stared at her harder. Our uniform pants were dark denim jeans. The thought of rubbing my bare pussy into denim for a whole shift was on par with dry humping a sheet of sandpaper. “You’re… you’re not wearing… anything?”

She shook her head miserably.

We both regarded the yellow tights worn by most of the host staff. We contemplated a lack of underwear being pressed into those communal tights, adding to the miasma of Red’s smells.

But I was sure as fuck not getting in that costume.

“Make sure to take the tights home and wash them.”

Her eyebrows went up. She met the bitter steel in my eyes and crumpled. I turned my back and she did what she had to, slipping naked as a babe into the neon spandex of Red’s tights. Lauren trustingly kept a grip on my hand as I navigated her through trays and tables to terrify the tiny birthday boy.

To the best of my knowledge, she never did wash the tights.

[writingsbychlo]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 01

summary; azriel is lonely, and goes to the pleasure house. he doesn't get very far before his world is flipped upside down, and he's not the only one.

word count; 7646

notes; working title. working fic. everything is just a work-in-progress. not sure how I feel about posting this, so if we all hate it, lets not tell me, okay? because I love it. I just didn't know if I wanted to share it.

You stared up at the building before you, nervously tugging at the hem of your dress. Your lungs would barely open to take a breath, every pounding note of the music from inside reverberating out across the pavement seems to shake you to your bones, and your heart was racing so fast it might tear right out. 

The smell of alcohol spilt out across the street, and the sweet tang of mirthroot smoke sat heavy in the air. It was cloying, probably even thicker inside. A voice cleared, impatient and deep, and you jolted out of your thoughts. 

“You’re blockin’ the fuckin’ door.” He growled, words already a little slurred, and your cheeks heated as his gaze leered across your body, a smirk forming on his lips. “‘Less you’re goin’ inside? If that’s the case, let me escort you.”

“No, no. I’m— you go ahead, please.” Your words could barely be choked out, the male rolling his eyes at you before swinging the door open and stepping inside, the music loud enough for a split second to shock you once again. Stumbling back a couple of steps, your body slammed into someone else, a squeak leaving your lips, and your eyes began to sting at the overwhelm of emotions now. “I’m so sorry, I’m in the way, I’ll just—”

“Are you alright?”

A pathetic laugh left you at the question, beyond your control as the wet sound of your inevitable tears leaked into it, despite your best effort to keep them at bay. “No. Nothing is okay, not even a little bit. Everything sucks, actually. Everything is shit, and I’m scared, and I hate it. No, I’m not alright.”

With a heaving breath, one that seemed to shake through every cell in your body, you hauled a watery gaze up to the owner of the deep voice and ridiculous question. And up, and up. Good God’s, he was tall, even in your stupid heels. He had a sharp jawline, lips pursed in a flat line, a straight nose, and thick brows raised in silent question. Or judgement, you really weren’t sure. No matter what, he was one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen, though. What he was doing here, you had no idea.

“I’m sorry. You should— you’re going inside, right? You should go inside, don’t let the sobbing girl in the street ruin a very fun night for you.” Stepping to the side, and raising your arm to wave at the club, he didn’t budge, and your gaze tracked back to his. 

“You’re not going inside?” His sights dropped, scanning along the material that could barely be called a dress, that you’d had to buy from a lingerie store just to be appropriate, and you still felt exposed. Warmth rushed to your cheeks once again, that lump returning to your throat, and you shook your head. 

“No. No, I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t work here?” His tone wasn’t so flat now, a slight tip of curiosity, and you shrugged. 

“I was… hoping to. I was trying to work here, but I’m not sure I can make myself do it.” Your lip wobbled. “Not that there’s, y’know, anything wrong with it. Gods, I respect those who do it and I wish I had their confidence, everything would be a lot easier for me if I could, but it’s just not who I am.”

“So, if you don’t want to work at the pleasure house, why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” You shot back, and his stare pinned you. Observant, invasive, intense. It was enough to make you crack after only a second. “Why does anyone do a job?”

“Money?”

“Correct.” Blowing out a breath, you crossed your arms, the adrenaline wearing off as your decision was made, back turned to a club you wouldn't enter. The cold was beginning to leak into you, to take hold. “But, I guess I’ll just figure something else out.”

He watched you for a second longer, before slipping off the leather jacket he was wearing, over proud wings that were tucked tight into the darkness behind him. Swinging it around your body to settle over your shoulders, your first thought was that it was heavy, and large, but warmth soon followed, like a blanket by the fire on a cold winter’s night. 

“Thank you.”

“Would you like me to walk you home?” His hands stuck into his pants pockets instead, black skinny jeans that clung so tightly to his thighs it should be a crime, and you had to force your gaze away. 

“You, uh, you’re not going in?”

“I’m getting everything I need right here.” Panic shot through you, your whole body tightening for just a second, and his eyes widened, those lips finally parting in shock and he shook his head. “That’s not— I’m not implying anything is happening here. You don’t owe me anything, fuck, okay—” He took a deep breath, head tipping back to stare at the sky for a second, and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if I can go in, either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So, I’d really rather walk you home, if you’ll let me, than stand out here in the cold for another hour debating my choices.”

Your lips flicked up at that, the first real smile you’d had in weeks threatening to spill over. What happened to your tears? “You’ve been out here even longer than I have.”

“I know. I saw you arrive.” A smile pulled at his lips too. With a single glance down the street, the not-so-good part of town you’d ended up in, and caved. 

“You promise not to, like, murder me, or something?”

A laugh burst from him, sudden and rough, like he wasn’t used to making such a sound, but something in his eyes flickered. 

“It’s not funny! Weren’t you ever taught about stranger-danger as a child?”

“No, we weren’t really taught that in the camps. They skipped right over trust, to how to stab someone in the back.” Your throat dried up for a second, before seeing the smirk still sitting on his lips, and you scoffed, a curse muttered under your breath that only made him chuckle more. “Alright, fine. I’m Azriel, and I promise not to murder you.”

A sharp sting on the back of your neck made you gasp, your hand flying to it, and your eyes widened. The burning sensation lasted only for a second, before fading to nothing but a tingle. “What the fuck was that, what did you do?”

“You made me promise!”

“And?” You pressed, fingers tracing the spot. They came away clean when you examined them, and while the skin was smooth to the touch, you could feel whatever had happened. 

“You’re not from the Night Court, are you?” Amusement and curiosity wrapped his voice, and you shook your head lightly. “That would be your promise mark. Making a promise brands you, here.”

“What?” He tugged down the collar of his shirt, and even in the darkness, you could see slashes of dark ink across his collarbone, swirls and shapes. Your hand came up, before you could stop yourself, rocking onto your tiptoes to get a closer look, and tracing one finger across a whorl softly. “You’ve made a lot of promises.”

The clean, earthly smell of him filled your nose, and you backed away from him, letting him slip his shirt back into place as he watched you closely. 

“Your hands. Are they promise brands too?” Those same hands formed fists by his sides, arms twitching to tuck behind his back and hide, and you could see the effort it took for him to straighten them out in the space between you instead. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn't have— that was so insensitive of me. I’m sorry, Azriel.”

“They were a promise of a kind, but not the marks the magic of this court gives you. These were promises from my step-brothers when I was a child, promises that worse would come. Worse could come.” 

Silence settled between you for a moment, his sights fixed on his own marred flesh now as he turned his hands slowly, over and over before himself. Cupping his hands softly, your palms met his, thumbs smoothing across the rough skin. “I hope you gave them some promises of your own.”

“I did.” His voice was something darker, something sharper, as if daring you to be scared by it. By him. Your hands only squeezed a little tighter around his own. 

“Good.” The moment lasted a little longer, his hands flexing briefly around your own, before he was pulling them back. “Do you still want to walk me home?”

“I do.”

“Well, I think I’d like that.” He only smiled again, offering you his arm, and you freed one hand from underneath the layers of leather to loop your own through. 

Ambling down the sidewalk, you got as close to his side as possible, stealing both his heat and his protection as drunken fae stumbled past you on all sides, the streets filled with broken glass and litter. It was the worst part of the city, every Court had such places but you’d never thought you’d wind up living in such a place. 

With Azriel by your side, even for the short walk it was, people seemed to steer far away from the tall, powerful man who was keeping you company. You’d received countless leers and stares since leaving the house in this outfit, but now, they didn’t even dare to look at you. The safety was something you’d never felt before, and you’d miss it when you were alone again in your apartment tonight, behind a door that didn’t lock and had a chunk missing from the bottom. 

Slowing down on the pavement before the place you currently called a very begrudging ‘home’, you avoided a pile of vomit on the street, cringing a little internally and hoping Azriel hadn't noticed it. You weren’t sure why you were so bothered by his opinion, but you were.

“Well, this is it.” 

Azriel paused, glancing up at the decrepit building you’d come to a stop before. The windows were boarded up along the bottom floor, graffiti lined the walls, and there were stains on the bricks you’d never bothered to question. Azriel took it all in, and shame flooded your body. The coat wrapped around your shoulders was probably worth more than several months of your rent here.

“Thank you for walking me home.”

“You can’t be serious.” He continued to stare, up and up at the several layers, to the open window with shouting pouring out from one of the upper windows. “You can’t live here. We haven’t even left—” The bad part of town.

He cut himself off, but the words still sounded out between you both. Slipping his coat from your shoulders, you held it out, but he didn’t take it. He didn’t even look at it, still staring up in disgust at the apartment building. “Gods, this place makes Nesta’s last apartment look like the Townhouse.”

“What?”

His focus moved back to you, like he hadn't realised he’d even said that out loud, before shaking his head. “Would you like to have a coffee with me?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” The offer shocked you, but sparked a little warmth, like despite every shameful thing he’d learned about you tonight, he wasn’t disgusted by you yet. “When?”

“Now.”

“But nowhere will be—” His hands came out, holding softly to your elbows and tugging you closer, before cold shadows seemed to dart from every corner of the street, wrapping you in a black bubble. The earth seemed to fall out from under you as your vision was lost, everything was silent and cold, before you were stumbling in your terror, and the shadows moved again. “What the fuck just happened?”

The coat dropped from your hand, crumpling to a pile on the street as you stumbled backwards. Only, this wasn’t your street. 

The faelights in the lampposts didn’t flicker in their stained yellow glass, but were a clear and bright white. No cracked street tiles or shouting, nothing but peaceful moths batting at the glass, and several houses lined up, spaced far from one another along the street. It wasn’t dark or damp, broken and stained, a part of the city you’d never even seen before. Only one row of houses lined the street, so far between each house it would take you ten full minutes to walk to the next, the Sidra bubbling quietly behind you over the bridge. 

Azriel dipped down, picking his jacket up from the ground, and when he took a step closer to you, you took one back, a shaky hand coming up between you both to hold him away.

“Where are we? What the fuck just happened? Why am I here?”

He sighed, shoulders straightening a little. “It’s called… well, I don’t know what it's called, because I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can do it. It’s like winnowing, only with my shadows. I’m a shadowsinger, I control them.” As if to emphasise his point, the darkness lingering all around you on the street swirled slowly, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the darkness move. “You step into the shadows one one place, you step out of them in another. I brought you here for coffee, but that was just an excuse, if I’m honest. Really, I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving you in that place.”

“That place is all I can afford.” You muttered, arms crossing over your chest, a dull pound in your head as you tried to process every overwhelming piece of new information. “So, what are we doing here?”

“I live here.” He stepped up onto the pathway of one house, the gate squeaking a little as he pushed it open, and your jaw fell slack, staring up at the towering estate before you.

“Here?”

“Yes. Now, will you please come inside?” Tipping his head to the side, that smile was back, and you couldn't resist it, the pull toward him as your feet carried you in cautious steps. 

“Fine, but I don’t actually want coffee. I hope you have tea.”

“I have plenty of tea. So many flavours that you won’t know what to pick.” His grin only widened as you stepped through the gate, letting him close it behind you, and following you up towards the grand house as you put every effort into not making a fool of yourself in these ridiculous heels. As you reached the porch, he swerved around you, producing a set of keys from his pockets and unlocking the door, holding that out for you too. “Welcome to the Bridge House.”

“That’s a pretentious name. All of these houses are on the river, and none of them are on the bridge.” You muttered, his chuckle following you inside as fae lights came on automatically, lighting along the long hallway, giving a muted glow to the space. He shut the door, and you spun to face him, watching as he clicked all of the locks securely back into place. 

“I know, but Rhys likes to name all of his houses, and he wouldn't let me change it even when I bought it.”

“Rhys?” You echoed, deciding to skip right over the display of wealth you couldn't even begin to handle, and copy his actions, toeing off the shoes that had been torturing your feet for hours now, and giving a soft sigh when your feet flattened on the floor. 

“My brother. Not biologically, but, it’s what he, Cassian and I like to call ourselves.” 

With a warm hand on your lower back, he softly began to guide you through the house and into the kitchen, but the names lingered in your mind. “Cassian… Rhys— oh, fuck, as in Rhysand? The fucking High Lord?”

Azriel only smirked at your outburst, stepping away from the island counter in the middle towards the kettle sitting neatly on the stove. “So, their names you recognise, but mine you don’t? I’m almost offended.”

“Well, isn’t that supposed to be the point, spymaster?” You growled the word out, knees feeling a little weak underneath yourself, and you braced your hip against the counter. “Oh, Gods, this is so inappropriate. I can’t be here! You’re a part of the Royal Court, you’re—”

“I’m just Azriel, to you.” His voice had gone soft once again, pulling two mismatching mugs from the cupboard, and watching you cautiously. 

“I’m wearing lingerie!” You burst, voice too high and shrill to even be remotely calm, and he clicked his tongue. 

“I'm aware. You look cold and uncomfortable. Would you like something to change into?”

“Would I…” It was surreal. It was a dream. None of this could possibly be true. “I can’t be here!”

“Why?”

“Because… because you’re Azriel, the spymaster! You literally call the High Lord brother, and I am a pleasure house worker who can barely afford rent in the shittiest part of town, I came to your house in a pair of stupid heels that I had to tape the sole back onto, in a dress that barely even qualifies as underwear! Your jacket could probably have bought my whole apartment outright, and—” Azriel crossed the room before you could even process it, hands sitting on your waist to scoop you up and deposit you onto the counter just before your legs could give out fully. He planted his hands on the outside of each of your thighs, planted himself between them, and his nose practically brushed your own. “What are you doing?”

“Take a breath. You’re panicking. You’re going to give yourself a panic attack.”

“I think we’re way past that.” You whispered, but did as told, trying to take a shaky breath to match the one he took. You did it again, and again, each breath calming you a little more, but it didn’t help the chaos in your mind, just helped to slow your heart a little. “Azriel, c’mon, you and I both know it. I should go, and we should just hope none of your neighbours saw, because it’ll ruin your reputation.”

“My reputation is destroyed anyway. If anything, you’ll be wanting to hope nobody saw you with me, once you learn about me.” You rolled your eyes, head tipping forward to lean on his shoulder, and he slipped one hand up to rub softly along your back. You could feel everything, the sexy dip of the dress barely covered your ass now, and more embarrassment flooded through you. “Besides, you’re here now. You might as well stay for that tea. It’s not like anyone can see you in here, you’re not on a timer.”

“Okay. Just one cup.”

“Just one cup.” He confirmed, lingering for a second longer before pulling away. Disentangling himself, he filled up the kettle from the tap, setting it off on the hob. “What flavour tea would you like?”

“What’ve you got?”

Hopping down from the counter as he beckoned you closer, it was only when you were by his side that he opened a double-standing cabinet, both of the doors slowly opening on a hinge, silent as ever, to reveal the jars of loose tea within. Each one was lined up meticulously, labelled with the flavour of tea and the benefits underneath, your jaw dropping. “Told you I had plenty.”

“You could run a tea shop with this stash!” Your elbow flew out, nudging into his ribs to dim his laughter. “I have no idea where to even start. Why don’t you pick?”

“Alright.” Instead of getting one out, though, he closed the cupboard doors, backing you away from it slowly. “It’ll be a surprise, but how about we get you that change of clothes first, huh?”

You glanced down at yourself, giving into the urge to finally feel settled in your own body again, chin dipping in a single nod. His hand slipped into your own, warm and sure, before he was tugging you along behind him, and guiding you through the house. Up two sets of stairs, past far too many different rooms to count, before stopping at the doorway to the grand bedroom. It had double doors, for fuck’s sake. The one bedroom itself, as you entered, was bigger than your entire apartment had been. 

Clean, simply decorated and organised, and extremely homely, a sigh left you as you took it all in. “This is your bedroom?”

“Well, I am the only one who lives here.” He teased, dropping your hand and leaving you to observe in the centre of the room, as he made his way over to one of the wardrobes. 

“Really? I couldn't tell, what with this place being the same size as my entire apartment building.” He laughed, and you hardly had time to turn and see the smile that would be accompanying it, before soft material was smacking you in the face, and falling to the floor. You looked down, agape, to see a soft blue t-shirt sitting in a pile at your feet. “Did you just throw that at me?”

“That’s what you get for sassing me.”

He opened another drawer as you crouched to pick it up, shaking it out to hold the material in front of yourself. When it was lowered, he threw something else, another bundle you were just quick enough to catch this time, but it didn’t stop you from scowling in his direction. This time, it was sweatpants, thicker and black in colour.

“I’ll give you a chance to get changed, and I’ll be back.” 

He was gone, the door shutting gently behind him, and he was absolutely silent as he walked away, leaving you alone in his bedroom. It was an odd feeling, to say the least. To be trusted so deeply with someone’s things, when they had no reason to be, and Azriel didn’t read to you as the easily trusting type. 

Then again, neither were you, and you were somehow still confident that this wasn’t all going to end with your untimely death. Your toes sank into the plush carpets, sore patches on the backs and sides of your feet already threatening to be blistered by the morning, and this dress had been irritating your skin since the moment you’d put it on. Cheap material, but the best you could afford.

Slipping open the ties across the front one at a time, the dress came loose, enough for you to slip your arms out of the tight sleeves, and begin to shimmy it down your body, feeling less than elegant as you worked your way out of it. Perhaps it was a good thing you hadn't gone in, you certainly weren’t cut out for this kind of work. How anybody could make peeling themselves out of that sexy was beyond you.

Azriel’s shirt was built to accommodate his large frame, with panels in the back that buttoned up for his wings, but even once it was on, with those few slits down the back, they revealed nothing compared to the dress on the floor at your feet. You didn’t feel so exposed any more, so vulnerable, and as you slipped the sweatpants up your legs to tighten at the waist, you finally felt more like yourself again. 

A sigh slipped past your lips, hands smoothing down along your covered body, warm and comfy once again. You hadn't felt this settled in a long time, and already, Azriel’s house was feeling more like home than your shitty apartment ever had, and ever would. Scooping up your dress and folding it neatly into a flat square, you laid it atop one of the dressers, beside a half-burned candle and a book. 

You were sniffling the candle when there was a knock at the door the knob twisting slowly. 

“Can I come in? Are you, y’know, dressed?”

“I’m dressed, you can come in.” He nudged the door open, a tray in his hands, stacked up with pottery and plates, and you placed the candle back down to help. He didn’t need it, though, resting the tray down on the small trunk at the end of his bed, and straightening up. As he turned to you, his gaze found you again, running far more slowly along your body than he had out in the street, and the smile you were becoming fond of formed on his lips again. 

“Feel better?”

“So much better.” 

He patted the silky quilt on the end of his bed. “Come sit. I made cranberry and spiced apple tea. It’s very calming, a good late-night tea.”

“Sounds delicious.” Your legs crossed as you perched atop the plush mattress, a bed larger than you’d ever seen before as you took it in, spanning your gaze across the entirety of it. When you turned back, Azriel was pouring you a mug, watching.

“It’s because of the wings.”

“What?” 

“My wings.” He flexed them out behind himself, stretching them taut to their full, glorious length, and your hands shook a little in awe as you took the mug and saucer from him. Black, leathery flesh was thinner in some places, enough to glow a softer purple and red as the light shone through, some patches had tendons and veins visibly moving under the skin, marred patches of scars in the shapes of slashes and arrow piercings. “So I can stretch them out in bed and they don’t touch the floor.”

“They’re sensitive?” You wanted to reach out, to trace one of the scars sitting right at eye level, to ask what had caused it, but he only chuckled. As he poured his own mug of tea, he pulled them back in, hanging comfortably behind his back once again.

“Very sensitive. You can bring an Illyrian male to his knees with just one touch in the right place.”

“This feels like top-secret information. Surely you shouldn’t be spilling all the ways to hurt an Illyrian male to me?” You teased, and he uncapped a jar of honey, his smirk growing as one brow raised at you. 

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“Of course not.” He added two spoonfuls to his mug and stirred, before offering it to you, a fresh spoon to follow, and you accepted the scoops he made. 

“Then why shouldn’t I tell you?” You had no answer to that, instead grinning into your tea as you stirred it, watching the ripples form as you tapped the spoon against the edge, and rested it on the saucer. Steam curled up from it, and as you raised it to your lips to blow, he hummed. It smelt so good, your mouth watered. “Besides, who said you’d be bringing me to my knees in pain?”

You jerked, gaze snapping back up to him, before a splash of the tea spilt over the edge of your mug, hitting your thigh and dripping onto the covers below, creating a small wet patch. “Azriel!”

He only laughed, your cheeks heating at his innuendo, but the flush on his face was worth it, even if he was laughing at you. 

“Now look what you made me do, there’s tea on your covers.”

“Sweetheart, seeing that reaction would have been worth it if you’d spilt a bucket of mud on my bed.” Your cheeks flushed again at the drawl of his voice over his words, even if he didn’t know he was doing it, your heart jumping in your chest.

“I still might, as revenge.” Muttering your words didn’t make him miss them, laughter starting anew, and you hoped he at least couldn't see the smile the sound gave you as you sipped your tea. You finally let your eyes move to the tray, noting the large teapot sitting in the centre, the used pot of honey and your spoons, and the small plate stacked up with shortbreads. “Would it be already if I had one of those?”

He tracked your gaze, nodding rapidly when he realised and presented the plate to you. “I don’t normally have food in my bedroom, never mind my bed, but, I didn’t know when you last ate. I didn’t want to assume, and start cooking a whole meal, but I can—”

“Azriel.” His lips pursed shut, this time it was his turn to blush, an adorable shade of pink that suited him so well crawling across golden skin. “I love these, and I was hungry. They’re perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Slipping from the bed to stand once again, you placed your mug back on the tray, and held up your saucer instead to catch crumbs as you ate the first circular treat. 

“What are you doing?” Azriel’s voice was a little rough, and you licked stray crumbs and sugar from your lips, not missing his gaze following the motion. 

“I’m eating.”

“Why did you stand up?” He flexed his fingers around his mug, watching you happily as you took another bite. 

“I didn’t want to risk getting crumbs in your bed.”

“You can,” He stepped closer, putting his drink down and settling his hands on your shoulders, a look in his eyes you didn’t quite get a chance to read before he was moving you, pushing until your legs met the bed and you sat down slowly. “You can sit. I don’t care if you get crumbs. I’ll clean it.”

He moved to take the saucer, the one you had cupped under your chin to catch any loose crumbs, and you gripped it tightly, not letting him have that too. He was making all kinds of sacrifices for you tonight, you weren’t sure why, but this was one rule you could at least respect. 

“You can sit up at the pillows, if you want. You don’t have to sit down here.”

Glancing back, the end of the bed felt miles away, and you shrugged, feeling him stack another pastry onto your plate as your attention was turned away. “Will you sit with me if I do? I mean, I know it’s your bed, but…”

“I will. Let me just change, first.”

He swiped up his pyjamas, which had been sitting neatly by the pillow on what you assumed was his side of the bed, and disappeared with a flurry of shadows into the connecting bathroom. Not all of them went, some remained, swirling on the floor, and a single tendril rose up, like a snake lifting its head.

It didn’t have eyes, a face, or any discernible features, and yet you had the distinct feeling you were being watched by it. You popped another shortbread into your mouth, whole this time, and placed the rest down, watching it just as studiously as it approached you across the floor slowly. 

It slithered up, across the bedding, and snaked over your thigh until it found your wrist. It was cool, not cold, but a soft breeze across your skin. Soothing, to say the least, and it wrapped in coils around your arm. Up and up it went, crawling under the baggy sleeve-hem of the t-shirt you’d borrowed, across the pulse point in your neck and before re-emerging from your collar and darting into the hanging strands of your hair. 

Another soon followed, this one tickling across the bare bad of your foot before snaking up your leg, toying in your fingers, weaving through the digits. Another came, curious like puppies, but this one never touched you. No, instead, it danced across the trunk before you, over the tray and swirled around your mug, again and again in whirling circles. 

“What are you doing, little one?”

You reached a finger out, brushing it across the mist. “It’s trying to tell you to drink your tea.”

“Jeez, Azriel!” You jumped, shadows skittering like butterflies back to the corners of the room as he waved a hand, and you clutched your own over your heart. “You’re so fuckin’ sneaky, what is up with you!”

“Spymaster, remember? Sneaky is kind of in the job description.” He winked, winked, and wandered right past where you sat, up to the head of the bed. He looked good, too good for someone simply intending to sleep later tonight, with a fitted black shirt stretched taut across those muscles, and a pair of matching sweatpants to the ones he’d given you, except they looked much better on him. Pulling back the covers, he patted the mattress beneath, raising his head to look at you. “Come on, and bring your tea.”

You did as told, rising and grabbing both your mug and his, moving to sit on the space he’d learned for you, amongst fluffy pillows and cushions. He tucked the blankets back around you, caring for you in a way nobody ever had before, and you had to bite at the inside of your cheek to contain it. “Thank you.”

Your whisper was hardly audible, but he smiled nonetheless, one curl from his raven black locks flopping across his forehead as he nodded, before making his way around to his side. Sinking into the bed, he sat forwards, ruffling his wings for a moment until he was satisfied, before sitting back and taking the mug you offered. 

Once one hand was free, you indulged yourself, leaning across to tuck that curl back up into his hair, his golden eyes tracking every movement. “Why are you doing this for me, Azriel?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you looking after me? Why are you being so kind to a complete stranger? I’m here, wearing your clothes, sitting in your bed, drinking your tea. Why?” The words hung thick in the air around you, for so long you sipped your tea just for something to do as his lips pursed in consideration. You swore you could hear your heartbeat, drumming in anticipation. This was it. This was where stupid, ridiculous, blind trust from desperation got you. Into the bed of someone who could ruin your life, who would make it seem like nothing ever happened, who—

“I don’t quite know.”

“You— what?” It wasn’t what you’d been expecting, head emptying once again, and he shrugged. He sipped his tea, and didn’t continue. You placed your own down on the bedside table to your left, turning onto your side and propping yourself on the pillows to study him. “You don’t know?”

“No. I just saw you, and I wanted to talk to you. So, we talked. Then I walked you home, and I saw where you lived, and I just knew I couldn't let someone as good as you go in there again.”

“You don’t even know me! What if I’m a really awful person?”

“I don’t think so.” He smiled, tucking a strand of your hair away behind your ear as he smiled. His thumb came down, tracing slowly across your cheek in a way that made sparks fly along your skin, your heart skipping another beat, and his grin only got wider. “I’m pretty good at reading people, and you’re golden. Besides, my shadows are all shadows. They know these things, they don’t trust people easily, but they like you. That tells me that you’re good, that you deserve more.”

“That’s a lot of faith to have in them.”

“They’ve earned that faith over the centuries.” His confession brought another wave of silence, but nothing about it was awkward. He finished his tea, as did you, sitting side by side in his grand bed, where your feet didn’t even come close to touching the ends. “Azriel?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me something?”

His expression was sweet like sugar, and he rolled a little more to face you, a little closer to you, sharing your space. “What would you like me to tell you?”

“Tell me your funniest story.”

And just like that, Azriel was off, words flying from his mouth as he began to recreate the scene, and you slumped down into the pillows to listen. He told you about his brother, Cassian, and you laughed with him so much your sides hurt. You told him your own, your funniest tales of your time in school, pranks you and your friends had pulled, drunken nights out. 

Just one cup had become two, had become three, into four, as the stories moved on, conversation flowing so easily between you both in a way it never had before. 

The teapot was drained somewhere between talking about your childhood and his, when you’d returned the mugs to the tray, and found yourself braced in his arm, cheek on his chest listening to the rumble of his voice as he talked. 

Somewhere around the time of talking about all the promises he’d made, you’d found yourself sat up, cross-legged to match him and knees touching, leaning in like you were talking in secrets, hiding giggled in whispers like you were kids getting caught talking in a classroom. 

You told him about your trip to the Night Court, how you’d always felt so lost in Dawn, nothing seemed right, and after Amarantha's reign and the war, everything seemed to have fallen apart for you. He listened, he actually heard you, when you told him about your trip here, to see the City of Starlight and feeling more rooted here than you ever had in your home court. Something was calling you. You may not have the life you’d dreamed of yet, but you’d get there. 

He swore you would, he believed in you. He told you all the places to visit, the best parts of Velaris to see, when you could spare the time and the funds. Most seemed like dreams, things you’d never get to truly achieve, but it was fun to imagine them.

By the time the sun had been rising again, you were laying on your back, his head on your stomach as he lay sideways across the bed. Your hand was in his hair scratching across his scalp as he explained to you the trials that had brought him and his brothers to victory as Carynthian warriors.

“Azriel, can I ask you a question?” You whispered, dragging your hand through his hair one more time, before he was moving, propping his chin on your stomach and offering a sleepy smile.

“Sure.”

“What were you doing at the pleasure house tonight?”

“Looking for this.” He mumbled, yawning to follow it, and your thoughts swirled. He crawled up the bed a little more, collapsing down half on top of you still, half beside you in the bed, sharing your pillow. “Looking for company.”

“Well, yes, but not this kind of company.”

“No, not this kind.” His lips still smiled as his lashes fluttered, those pretty eyes finally opening to look at you again. “I’m so fuckin’ lonely, all the time. All those stories are great, they’re fun, but it's the times in between that hurt. When I sit at the dinner table, surrounded by five happy couples, all alone. When I see them, and I want to be so happy because they’re so in love, and I’m just jealous. Sometimes, I just want to be touched, to be loved, to be the one getting attention. Being the eleventh wheel sucks.”

“Eleventh wheel?” Your chuckle made him roll his eyes, shrugging helplessly, and groaning as he readjusted in the pillows, propping himself up. 

“I don’t know what drew me there tonight, just that I was lonely, and I want to feel love. Even if it was just a short time, even if I had to pay for it. Even if it wasn’t real.” He lifted your hand, weaving his scarred fingers through your own, and smiling fondly when he settled your hands in his lap. “Maybe it was fate that I found you instead. That, rather than pay for false love that would make me only feel worse after, I got to meet you, to help you. I didn’t bring you back here with this intention, I didn’t mean to bring you back at all, it just sort of happened. But, this has been one of the best nights of my existence, and all we did was talk.”

“Oh, Az…” Your voice cracked, leaning across towards him you pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling his smile pull under your lips. 

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.” You pulled back, settling your hand on his shoulder as your thumbs battled aimlessly. 

That blissful silence settled between you both once again, exhaustion eating at your boned as you fought to even keep your eyes open, and watch the growing sun rays come through the windows you’d never even bothered to cover last night. 

At some point, you’d have to leave. You’d have to give him his clothes back, and try to find your way home, living with nothing but the warming memories of this night to keep you from freezing in your apartment this Winter. It was all so worth it, because while you may not have confessed it in return, you hoped he knew it was one of the best nights of your existence, too.

“What if we did this again?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, words slightly slurred through your tiredness, and you wondered idly if you fell asleep here, would he let you stay until you woke up before sending you on your way?

“This. This, whatever this night was. We could make it an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” You snorted, cloudy amusement filling your veins, but he only hummed. “Would you like to pay me to cuddle you, Azriel?”

“I would, actually. That and… other things.”

“What?” That cut through the haze, your head snapping up to look at him, your hand pulling back from his own as an icy feeling filled your chest. “I’m not— that’s— if I was going to do that, I’d be at the pleasure house right now!”

“What are you— no! Not those things!” His eyes widened as he released, shooting out to hold onto you once again as you searched for the edges of the covers to fling back. “Not like that. I just mean, there are things I want. I want company, I want someone to talk to over the dinner tables in the evening and hold like this, someone to make me feel less alone. I need affection, and just look at us tonight. Just like this, this was enough for me. And, there are things you need.”

“What do I need?” Huffing out the words, he gently smoothed your fingers from gripping the blankets, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze again. 

“You need a place to live that isn’t that horrible building. You need a real address, in a good part of town, so that someone will hire you. You need a friend in this city, and I want to be that friend.”

“So, you’d, what? Have me move into your house, live here with you? You’d change my whole life all for the measly price of cuddling you at night? You know, a girlfriend would do that for you. You wouldn't have trouble finding one, Azriel!”

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered, rubbing his thumb over your chin as he still held it. “Most people are scared of me, or want something from me. Even after that, I’m hard to put up with.”

“Oh, c’mon, Az.” Your eyes rolled, and he pinched a little in response. 

“Sometimes I have to go away for days at a time, weeks at a time. I have a hectic and unpredictable work schedule, so planning dates and getting to know someone isn’t exactly easy when you might have to inexplicably stand them up and not be able to explain why. Even so, I’m meticulous and pedantic, and people don’t want to date someone like that. Even with all that aside, actually connecting with someone is something I struggle with.” He let it all off his chest in one burst, and you felt the weight of his troubles and confessions like a rock on your chest. “You’d be perfect for me.”

“You don’t even know my name!”

“I do!” His eyes sheened over, thinking back across the whole night, and you watched the moment he realised that perhaps he’d given you his name, but he’d never asked for your own. “Names don’t mean a thing when I can see your soul so clearly, already.”

“You know this is insane, right?”

“Totally.” He confirmed, smiling a little at your scoff. “But we should still do it. You can live here, with me. You can get a job, make this your home, and have the life you always wanted in Velaris. In return, I get to not feel like the darkness, like I’m alone, all the time.”

“Would I have my own room?”

“Any you like. You’re not going to be a prisoner, or some kind of kinky hostage. This will be your home too.” Your shared snickers at his wording only brought you closer, until your forehead was resting on his own, staring at him through warped vision at your closeness. 

“This is madness. How would it work, what are the rules here?”

“The rules are whatever we want. We do what makes us happy, what makes us comfortable. I care about you, I like you. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’ve had me since the moment I saw you.” Your breathing stuttered, his hand cupping your whole cheek now instead, and you settled down into the pillows to face him. “It may be crazy, but I am crazy, you’re gonna’ learn that. Let me change your life, sweetheart. You’ll be changing mine too.”

Your voice was nothing more than a shaky whisper, accompanied by a smile. “Then I think you’ve got yourself a deal, Azriel.”

[avocad1s]

Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: The nation of Cryo welcomes you.

Characters Mentioned: The Fatui Harbingers & The Tsaritsa.

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You've been warned.

Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part Four Part Five (you are here!) Part Six

You alr know what I’m gonna say… not beta read :>

The Gnosis didn’t just connect the Archons to the Creator. It also connected them to Celestia.

Although very few understand it, one thing that is known is Celestia is the residence for the Gods. On rare occasions, mortals can ascend to Celestia if they preform great, heroic feats. Meaning even humans can achieve godhood.

However as the decades went by, the Archons begin cutting of their ties to Celestia after the Cataclysm. They decided to live in their respective nations rather than watching them from above.

Celestia, who noticed the reservations of the Seven, knew that it had to do something to keep its order intact.

“You’re Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“You should put your coat on now, we will be arriving on shore soon.”

A few hours has passed since you had made a detour in your journey gotten a on the boat with Childe, he was a talkative individual, boasting about his skills in combat or about the Tsaritsa. Yet when you asked about the other Harbingers he wouldn’t say much, he would vaguely mention something about their strength or their contribution to the Fatui.

Speaking of the Fatui, you still had your reservations about the infamous group. Though when you try to reassure yourself that you know the Cryo Archon better than anyone else, Aether’s words fills your ears.

You sigh slipping the soft material of the coat onto your arms, feeling your body instantly heat up.

“Lord Harbinger,” one of Childe’s soldiers approached the two of you in a stiff bow. “We have arrived.”

Just like with Sumeru, it seems the Snezhnaya had changed a great deal since the last time you were here. You could hardly believe that this nation had been on lock for many years.

Childe holds his hand out to you, “I’ll lead you, Your Grace.” You rest your hand in his gloved one causing him to smile wider as he leads off the boat onto the icy deck.

The deck and the pathway leading to the Zapolyarny palace has a scare amount of security. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was on purpose or if your arrival to Snezhnaya is unexpectedly early.

“Are you nervous, Your Grace?” Childe asks suddenly.

You swallow, could he feel your apprehension? As the two of you get closer to the Zapolyarny palace, you could feel the tension in your body increase. The overwhelming presence of malice the palace was giving off, you could only imagine who- or what- was in there.

He gives your hand a slight squeeze looking over at you, “there’s no need to be nervous, the Fatui and Her Majesty are your most loyal servants. We will never do anything to betray you.”

Nodding at his words, you try to ignore the goosebumps that just appeared on your skin.

Childe pushes open the large doors leading you inside the icy fortress. Even though it wasn’t very well lit, the decor in the inside was spectacular. Multiple banners hung from the support beams all of them with snowflakes decorated at the bottom of it. There were also dozens of pews that lead to the front of the room which seemed to be the most lit. Many soldiers stood near the wall gawking in your direction once you entered the palace, but with a simple glance, you could tell they were lower ranked. Not because of anything they were wearing, but because of the two who stood in front of you.

One you recognized to be the Cryo Archon but the other was someone you’ve never seen before. Both were all dressed nicely but still kept the cold weather in mind.

The Tsaritsa was the only one to approach you, she wasted no time grabbing your free hand with both of hers. “Your Grace please forgive me for my rude welcoming. If I had known you would arrive today-“

“You have no reason to apologize, I wish I was here under better circumstances…” you interrupt.

She lets go of your hand nodding, “having you here already means everything to me.”

You smile at her sweet words, the Tsaritsa was still the same as you remembered. Maybe letting the words of Yelan and Aether get to you was a bad idea.

“You must tired after your journey.” The Tsaritsa begins, “we’ve prepared a room just for you. I hope it’s to your liking.”

Truthfully, you would take any bed right now. Ever since you descended to Teyvat, you’ve been sleeping outside or not sleeping at all, you wouldn’t complain about any accommodations right now.

She looks back at the man who was watching your interaction, “my most trusted will guide you to your chamber. I will come check on you later.”

The Tsaritsa takes a step away from you, turning her attention to Childe who was still holding your hand. “Come with me Tartaglia,” she orders.

Childe hesitantly lets go of your hand giving you a reassuring smile, “don’t worry Your Grace, if you need anything from me, I’ll still be in the palace.”

It fell silent for a moment in the palace, only thing that could be heard is the faint footsteps of Childe and the Cryo Archon walking off as they whisper about something you couldn’t make out.

“Divine One…”

You focus your attention on the man in front of you. He had on a mask like the soldiers in the room with you but his only covered half of his face, his hair is white and his eyes… (or eye) were the most peculiar. It was definitely something you recognized but he was standing to far away for you to make out what it was exactly.

“My name is Pierro,” he introduces, “I will guide you to your chamber.”

So this was the Tsaritsa most trusted. It makes you wonder how long he’s been in the Fatui to earn such a title. He leads you down a hall in the opposite direction that the Tsaritsa had went, he doesn’t say anything keeping his gaze forward and his hands behind his back.

“Where are the others?” You ask breaking the silence.

He glances at you for a moment, “I’m assuming you mean the other Harbingers? They’ll be returning soon.”

Pierro stops in front of a double doored room at the end of the hall, “this is where you’ll be staying while in Snezhnaya, Divine One.” He opens the door for you allowing you to walk inside as he stands by the threshold.

The room was fairly dark, the only light coming from the fireplace on the furthest wall from the door. There was one large bed in the middle of the room and a couch by the fireplace. There was also a table with a few books neatly stacked on it.

“I hope you enjoy your time in the Zapolyarny Palace.” Pierro closes the door leaving you alone in the large room.

Once the door clicks, you pull the flower Aether had given you out of your pocket inspecting it closely. Luckily it hadn’t wilted while on your journey to Snezhnaya. You place the flower on the table shrugging off your coat draping it on the chair. You relax into the couch allowing the fireplace to keep you warm, unaware that this is the last time you’ll relax before knowing the truth yourself.

-

-

The Zapolyarny palace was more comforting than you thought it be.

Slouching on this couch has to be the first time you ever allowed yourself to fully relax since you descended to Teyvat. You didn’t even realized you were succumbing to sleep until you heard faint voices outside your door that brought your attention back to reality.

“Is their Grace really behind this door?”

“That’s what the Jester said, maybe I should bring them something to eat.”

“Why should it be you? Their Grace knows me, they’ll be more comfortable if I bring it to them.”

“It shouldn’t have been you who found them in the first place, Tartaglia. I’m higher ranked than you, it should be me who gives it to them.”

“Well if it’s purely based off our rankings than it should be me, no? I am the highest ranked out of us all since number one isn’t here.”

“You’d just scare them off Dottore!”

Their fighting immediately ceases causing you to sit up on the couch. We’re they aware you were listening or did they walk off to argue somewhere else. Neither answer made sense, you hadn’t made a noise since you noticed they were outside your door and you didn’t hear their footsteps or fading voices indicating that they walked off.

A soft knock is heard at the large doors.

“Your Grace,” a voice calls out. It was the Tsaritsa, “are you awake? May I come inside?”

You use your palms to straighten out your wrinkled clothing before answering, “yes I’m awake. Please come in.”

The door opens immediately and the Cryo Archon walks inside closing the door behind her.

“We’re you able to settle in?”

You nod, “yes! This room is perfect, thank you.”

“I’m glad…” she slowly approaches you on the coach before hesitantly sitting next to you. “Well there’s no point of beating around the bush… I’m assuming you know why I came to see you?”

You rest your hands in your lap giving her your full attention, “it’s about the False Creator. Right?”

“Yes.” She confirms, “Tartaglia wasn’t lying when he said that I’ve figured out where the False Creator came from.”

You say nothing waiting for her to continue and after a best of silence she says, “Your Grace, there’s a reason why none of the Archons were alerted to your presence. We all removed our Gnosis.”

Your eyes widen, “what? Why?”

“It’s not because of you!” She quickly reassures, “we all still hold you in the highest regard, but to be connected to you we also have to be connected to…”

“…Celestia…” you finish her sentence. “Is there something wrong with Celestia? Why don’t you all want to be connected to it anymore?”

She brushes some of her hair off her shoulder, “when you went off world centuries ago and left Celestia in control of Teyvat, something changed.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

She shrugs, “I’m not entirely sure what happened but once you left, being in Celestia felt… wrong. Like none of us were supposed to be there but it was Celestia’s final order that made us cut our connection to it.”

“Celestia’s final order?”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that Celestia had ordered us Archons to destroy Khaenri'ah under the guise that it was you who told us to.”

Once she had seen your face, it takes everything out of the Tsaritsa not to fall onto the floor and beg for your forgiveness, but telling you everything is whats important right now, even if you do hate her afterwards.

“We all thought it was you who told us to do it… and that’s when the other one had arrived. Pretending to be you, they reassured us that we did the right thing and that we had gotten rid of a nation filled with sinners.”

You notice her eyes fill with tears, she felt true guilt for what she and her fellow Archons had done. Reaching out, you place your hand on top of her silently urging her to continue.

“Celestia feared it was losing it’s control over Teyvat after us Archons stopped going there once you had departed. So it sent down a fake you to keep the control it had over the world. With the False Creator and the Gnosis, Celestia had Teyvat right in the palm of it’s hands.”

“Wait.” You interrupt, “if that’s all they did, then why was Khaenri'ah destroyed?”

You feel her hands trembling under yours, but before you can comment on it she continues. “Khaenri'ah had found out about Celestia’s plans to send down a False Creator. When Khaenri'ah had made plans to summon you, Celestia ordered the destruction of the nation. It’s what we call the Cataclysm.”

You remove your hand from hers bringing them up to your mouth. There’s no way she was actually telling the truth, Celestia had existed way before anyone on Teyvat did. It was one of your first creations, would it really betray you like that?

A cold hand on your cheek breaks you out of your thoughts, the Tsaritsa turns your head to look at her a frown apparent on her face.

“I know how this sounds your Grace but you must believe me. I would never tell you such a blasphemous lie if it weren’t the truth!”

“What were these plans Khaenri'ah had found?” Are the only words to leave your lips.

“A prototype.” She explains, “they had sent down a prototype to see if they could fool Khaenri'ah into believing it was actually you. Celestia knew that convincing that nation would be the hardest since it was the only nation without an Archon.”

You stand from your spot on the couch causing the Tsaritsa to jump up as well, her face looked frantic but she held her composure well. It was clear where the Fatui had gotten their cold nature from.

“And how exactly did you get all of this information?”

“There are many remnants of Khaenri'ah still around Teyvat Your Grace. Celestia wasn’t able to eradicate everything.” She explains.

There was a another silence between the two of you but it wasn’t like before, this time it felt suffocating. If what she claims is the truth that means your own creation, something you believed you could trust, had betrayed you. Now everything made sense. Everything Aether had told you about the remnants of Khaenri'ah still being present. He was there, he probably seen all of it.

You should’ve went with him when you had the chance. Outlander or not, you were conflicted on who you could trust now.

“Your Grace?” the Cryo Archon stutters out her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “What are you going to do now?”

You decide not to respond but her question continues to repeat in your mind. What are you going to do? If it was Celestia, then destroying the Imposter wouldn’t solve your problem. What if you decide to go off world again? Would Celestia just make another Fake Creator and take reign over your world once more? You couldn’t let that happen, it wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

“As unbelievable everything you just told me sounds, I’m going to trust you…”

Her body visibly relaxes at your explanation.

“Even though I still don’t know everything I wanted, if Celestia was the one who created the Imposter then I cannot waste anymore time. I must return to Sumeru and deal with them immediately.”

-

-

Note: I apologize for the five day wait, but this part took a lot of research on my end and yeah 💀 i already know there are some inaccuracies but for the sake of the plot idc. Anyways we have just reached the climax of the story, my plan is to wrap everything up in three more chapters but we’ll see how that turns out.

Taglist: @esthelily @the-dumber-scaramouche @grimreapersscythe @seawater-aurelia-writing @probablynoposts @genshin-impacts-me @itsredactedlove @chidouna @thedevioussmirk @hoo-hoo @chaoticfivesworld @akemiixx01 @lunarapple @nowords-onlybreathing @fangirlinindia @veyu002 @blackcoffex @kaveh-is-pretty @ariasdream @averycuriousperson @bloopthebat @chuuya-brainrot @crazydreamcat @sparklyphantom @multistanbee @bluebelony @mokakoto @mega-trash-cringe CLOSED

I apologize to anyone who has asked to be tagged over the past few days! Please know that I did see you but Tumblr is not allowing me to add anyone else to the Taglist :<

Also this blog has hit 200 followers in under two weeks… umm HELLO? where did all of you come from?!? Seriously though, I appreciate all of the love and support you all have given this story 🙏 I love you all platonically ofc !!!

[harryyskiwii]

Summary: Harry gets overwhelmed by fans in Amsterdam and seeks comfort in you.

Pairing: Boyfriend Harry x reader

Word count: 1,403

A/N: This is my first one shot I’ve written so please let me know what you think!

Strolling through the streets of sunny Amsterdam together on a rare day off together, the heat of the June Summer beamed on your face as you and Harry walked through the beautiful city. You had never been to the Netherlands but you instantly fell in love with it; The Sundrenched canals, the plant-filled greenhouses and creative cafés had you in awe of the city.

As much as Harry loved interacting with the fans, hearing their stories of how his music helped him, some days the constant photographs, the being stopped in the street every 5 minutes and the requests from fans were a lot for him. Sure he was more than grateful for the life the fans had given him, but sometimes all he wanted to do was go on a walk for 30 minutes.

You knew something was bothering Harry. He had been fidgeting with his rings in the local coffee shop you were in and now as you were exploring through the streets, his strides were picking up pace with each step he took.

In the short 20 minutes you had been out for, Harry had been stopped on countless occasions from fans asking for photos. Usually he would say yes, but today he just wasn’t quite feeling up to it.

Hearing a voice as you walked past a row of boutiques, you turned your head to where it was coming from “Hi Harry, do you wanna take a picture?”

“Sorry?” Harry said, not catching what the person had said as he stopped to talk to them.

“Can we take a picture please?”

“Do you mind if we don’t actually?” “No, not at all. Nice meeting you Harry”

You smiled gently to the girl who seemed happy enough to even have talked to him but you could tell Harry was getting increasingly agitated. He was pleasant as always to every fan he came into contact with, but it was obvious this was weighing him down.

You squeezed his hand to let him know it was okay as you continued to walk down the street.

You must have only taken a dozen steps when you and Harry were stopped again by 2 girls.

“I wouldn’t go that way, it’s really busy” one said.

“Oh, this way?” He checked with the girls, who nodded in agreement.

“Yeah it’s really busy”

He about turned to avoid the situation, deeply appreciating the heads-up.

“Oh okay thank you”

“Have a good show Harry” one said.

“Thank you”

“You okay?” You asked quietly as you walked back in the direction you had just come. “Yeah, I think we should head back now”

“Yeah? Okay let’s go” you said, understanding Harry’s anxiousness right away.

“We can go down to the spa when we’re back if you like?” You suggested to him.

He lightly smiled at the thought “yeah sure”

You had only been walking for a few minutes when up in the distance, you saw what you thought were lines of people, creating almost like a small pathway to walk through.

“Harry!” you heard someone shout in the distance. As you looked back, the person started to run towards in your direction.

Panic spread on Harry’s face as he quickly tried to figure something out “Go round the other way, I’ll meet you at the hotel” He said quickly, as he started to run away from you.

“What?” You said, confused as to what was going on.

“Trust me, just go round the other way, it’s safer” Harry said and with that, he took off and began to run towards the crowd of people.

You thought now an odd time for a run, he was wearing his vans, the most unpractical shoe for running, but as he approached the people you knew exactly why he was running. Running away.

The girl who had shouted was now running past you, and towards Harry.

Your heart sank as you watched him run through the line of people, not stopping to converse with anyone. It was doubtful the girl would catch up with Harry but it was still scary to watch.

You turned and headed back towards the hotel and phoned Jeff immediately.

He thankfully picked up within a couple of rings. “Hey y/n”

“Jeff can you make sure security are at the hotel for when Harry comes back? He’s not far away, he’s being chased by someone he’s had to run he should only be a few minutes away”

“What? Where are you? What’s happened?” Jeff said, concern growing in his voice.

“It’s just really busy with fans, Harry’s fine, I think, but I don’t want the fans follow him back to the hotel”

“Let me get security now, are you okay though?”

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m walking the opposite way, I won’t be long”

“Okay, see you when you get back” Jeff said and hung up the phone.

Although it was only a 10 minute walk, a 5 minute run in Harry’s case, you texted him to see if he was okay.

“Smart move. Even smarter to not ask me to run with you. You okay?” You texted and sent it to him.

2 minutes later, he replied “Would of had to have called you an ambulance if you ran any longer than 30 seconds you lazy sod”

The sarcasm in his text was an indication he was alright, if he could make jokes out of you being so unfit, he was fine.

“Shut up. I called Jeff to make sure security are there for you. I won’t be long”

Once you arrived at the hotel, you were greeted by one of Harry’s security guards. You made your way up to your hotel room to find Harry, Jeff, Tommy and his head of security discussing recent events.

“I wanna be able to go out a walk myself without having you there, no offence Andy” you heard Harry say to his head of security.

He looked up when he saw you coming into the room.

“Y/n you’re back, you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, are you?” You asked Harry.

“We’re just saying about how it might be wise to think of having security with H at all times, just while the tour is ongoing” Tommy said and you hesitantly nodded.

Harry clearly thought otherwise by his lack of response.

“I get you want to go out and be normal, I do but when you’re having to literally run away, it gets serious” Jeff said and Harry sighed.

“I gotta look out for you mate, imagine anything happened to you, or to Y/n while you’re out, you’d never forgive yourself. What do you say about having it just for touring? For this leg anyway?” Jeff suggested.

Harry took a sip of water and let out a deep breath. “Okay, but just while we’re touring and then it stops” Harry said and Jeff nodded.

“Text me when you want to go out and I’ll come for you” Andy said and Harry nodded.

“Thanks guys” said Harry and the team got up to leave. He gave each of them a hug and you thanked Jeff for his help as you saw them out of the hotel room.

“It isn’t fair” Harry said with a crack in his voice, falling on the bed.

You turned round and you saw Harry almost reduced to tears “I shouldn’t have to run away and leave you by yourself”

“Harry, I’m fine” you reassured him. You were now lying down and cuddling with him on the king size bed.

He put his arm around you to spoon you “it’s not fine, you didn’t ask for this. To be chased by fans”

“No, but I chose you. I knew what I was letting myself in for. You made that very clear, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know why? Because you’re my runner, you’re my track star” you mocked his earlier running episode in his vans and he let out a giant, genuine laugh, the type of laugh that you couldn’t help but giggle at.

You turned round to face him “as long as you’re okay, I’m okay. If that means dates with big burly men watching us, then so be it” you said to make him laugh.

He smiled, this time looking far more comfortable than he did 20 minutes again. “I love you” he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“I love you too”

[blueicequeen19]

Now & Forever

Warnings: mostly fluff, breaking and entering, unprotected sexy time

You knew something was up. JJ was too nervous and antsy. Someone on the outside might think he was just being his usual goofy self but you could tell. JJ was hiding something and you were the last person he kept secrets from.

He’d insisted you wear his favorite dress and he even cleaned up nicely with his black button up and jeans. He could be wearing a onesie and still look irresistible.

"Do you know where we are?" JJ's comforting voice draws your attention as he pulls you to a stop on the beach. The moon was the only light available for you to take in your surroundings. The ocean looked like a pot of black ink and even the usual white sand still looked black. You glanced around, recognizing the lighthouse in the distance as you dug your toes into the sand.

"Is this the beach where we first met?" You smirked, feeling his hand tighten in yours.

"Yes."

"Where I was trying to surf and you laughed at me?" You tease, giggling as he pulls you into his big strong arms.

"I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing over how angry you were." JJ kisses your forehead.

"Then I marched up to you and told you if you could do it so much better than to have at it." You smiled against his chest, his heart racing beneath his black button up shirt.

"And I showed you up and you were embarrassed. You didn't talk to me for two weeks." JJ chuckles, tilting your chin up to steal a kiss. You smile against the softness of his lips, practically tasting the mint on his tongue. He even wore cologne tonight which only heightened your suspicions.

"And you made up for it by teaching me how to surf and letting me push you off your board more than once." The memory enhances the butterflies you already have in your stomach. It warms you to think someone so carefree and good, took notice of you. JJ was perfect just as much as he was impulsive. He was fiercely loyal and protective but you loved that. You always felt safe with him and he never failed to make you laugh.

You almost laugh, remembering you’d never told him you knew he frequented that beach and you only attempted surfing to get his attention. You just hadn't counted on him laughing and you getting overly embarrassed.

"Do you remember our first time in the light house?" You look over your shoulder, still safe and sound in his arms and inhaling his intoxicating scent. Your cheeks heat as you think about how many other times you'd hooked up in that light house. The man was always horny and you could never tell him no.

"When I scuffed my knee because I had to be inside you on the stairs?" His low growl meets your ears and you gasp, your hands tightening in his shirt. "Or was that the time you finished me twice with your mouth?" Heat pools in your belly and your eyes threaten to fall closed, the memories almost overwhelming as you felt your panties grow wet through clenched thighs.

"JJ Maybank, you have a dirty mouth." You tease playfully, reaching up on your tiptoes and kissing him passionately, threading your fingers through his soft hair. He groans, always losing himself when your tongue slips past his lips. You're both lost in the kiss when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting against yours and his erection prominent against your navel.

"You know I love you right?" His voice is barely more than a whisper, his fingers toying with the hair that hangs down your bare back. Every brush of his skin against yours gave you goosebumps.

"Yes. And I love you." You whisper back, kissing the tip of his nose.

"No, like, I love you more than anything. More than I've ever loved anybody. You're everything to me and I don't know what I did all those years without you because now, I can't picture a future without you in it." You pull back enough to look up into those ocean blue eyes, your heart in your throat. He smiles, the love he feels is written all over his face. The man practically has heart eyes. You never doubted how he felt about you but it was amazing to hear.

"You don't have to, J. I'm yours. Now and forever." You kiss him and he kisses you back harder before pulling away and dropping to one knee in the sand. Your eyes widen as he withdraws a white jewelry box from his pocket. Your mind draws a blank as the box opens and you're left staring at a beautiful white gold band with a single round diamond. It seemed to glow under the moonlight.

"Y/N, will you marry me?" JJ lets out an uneven breath, his nerves getting the best of him as tears fill your eyes. A sob leaves you before you can find the words to answer.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes! Absolutely!" You cry, refraining from throwing yourself in his arms as he lights up with a smile and quickly slides the ring on your finger. JJ quickly stands to his full height and picks you up by the backs of your thighs, your legs going around his waist as your lips meet.

It takes you a few moments to realize that he's walking and you don't have to look back to know where he's heading. You giggle against his lips, your arms around his neck as your tongues collide and he steals your ability to breathe. Your back meets the door of the lighthouse and you groan, needing him inside you.

"JJ--." You whine, grinding your body against his.

"I have to pick the lock." JJ growls, pulling his lips away and sitting you on your feet. You impatiently wait as he takes his tools from his pocket and quickly picks the lock. You hear the lock give and you gasp happily before he shoves the door open and picks you up again. He slams the door behind you, engulfing you in darkness as he presses your back against the cool wall, kissing you like he'll die if he doesn't.

"Please, baby, I need you inside me." You beg, tearing at the buttons of his shirt.

"Trust me, I'm going to fuck my fiance." You moan when he calls you that, feeling him free himself between your bodies. You feel him against your thighs; thick, hard and hot. He puts you on your feet and spins you around, pulling your white sundress over your head in haste, leaving you in nothing but a sexy lace thong. He groans behind you, dropping to his knees as he pulls the tiny fabric over the swells of your ass and down your legs. His fingers slide between your legs, stroking your clit enough to make your knees wobble.

"Always nice and ready for me." JJ's lust filled voice has your clit throbbing in response as he raises again.

"Don't scrape your knee again." You tease, feeling his shirt come off next. He places it in your hands and you lay it across the third step so you have something to kneel on. JJ roughly grabs your ass, growling as he pushes you to your knees and spreading your thighs. You were so wet you were dripping.

"Does this mean I don't have to wear a condom anymore?" His raspy voice meets your ear, his lips finding your neck as he guides himself to your waiting entrance.

"Are we married yet?" You tease, pushing your ass back to torture him.

"We can go to the courthouse tomorrow." JJ growls, fingers digging into your hips. You were too far gone to think of something logical to say back, not with the head of his cock kissing your entrance. It seemed silly now to deny him now that you were engaged even though you weren't on birth control.

"You have to pull out." You practically plead, your body aching to be filled. JJ's lips find your spine, he kisses your skin before dragging his tongue upwards. You groan, sparks shooting through your body.

"I will, I promise." JJ groans, cupping your right breast with ringed fingers and tweaking your pointed nipple. You whimper in frustration, reaching beneath you to guide him inside your aching hole. JJ hisses and your eyes flutter shut as the thick head slips inside you. You suck in a breath as he pushes the rest of the way, filling you to the brim. You hear a string of colorful curses leave his lips and you bite back a laugh, fighting to slow your racing heart and the urge to move.

"Ahh, I can't wait to make you my wife and come home to this everyday." He makes his point by thrusting in hard just once, making you gasp.

"I can't wait for everyone to see my ring on your finger and my kid in your belly." You moan loud and long, clenching around him so tightly that he growls in response as he thrusts once more. You wanted nothing more than to give him all those things.

"I love you Mrs Maybank. Now and forever."

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (5)

You drift in infinity, if only for a moment, in a place devoid of feeling. There is no heat or cold, no light or darkness, no life, no death. There is an overwhelming absence.

Hello, my maker, Says a voice into your ear.

Warm hands tug at your sleeve and turn you in place.

You make eye contact with a woman in perhaps her early twenties, wearing a simple black dress. She's somehow standing on the nothingness as if it's solid ground.

She gives you a smile.

I wish we'd have had any other way to meet. You a corpse, myself a stranger.

I am Nil. The Abyss Made Manifest. The first of your children. I'm sure you have no recollection of me from the... simulation of Teyvat. Genshin Impact, I believe they called it?

You nod, not quite sure what to say.

...or even if you can say anything, because this place probably doesn't have a way for your voice to travel.

She smiles, giving you a strangely abashed look.

Sorry. I'm not used to guests. Or anyone other than my children, the Abyssals. If I'd known you'd be coming, I'd have made you a chair or something.

You shrug. At this point, you'll settle for her not trying to maim you.

Which, in hindsight, is kind of pathetic to settle for.

She offers a hand. You take it, and she pulls you close for a brief hug before somehow sitting you down on a solid plane of nothingness, your legs dangling off the edge like you're both sitting on a pier.

I can't give you much help from here, and your body is much too feeble to sustain abyssal energies, but I've been putting you back together every time you die.

I know it hurts, and I know you probably don't want to be here if all it means is being miserable, but...

They know not what they do. To them, you're someone wearing their creator's face. And that's not a valid excuse for murder, but they're blind to the truth.

You don't understand. It's probably written all over your face, based on the sad, sympathetic look she gives you.

There's another you. Sort of. An unstable clone. Some alchemist made them when Khaenri'ah existed. They had been attempting to summon you and bind your soul to an immortal body so you could guide Teyvat as you did before. They managed to only summon a copy of your essence.

The elements and Celestia annihilated Khaenri'ah for playing with forces they had no right to control, and I devoured most of the survivors for supporting someone that was trying to pull you away from your rest.

You have many questions. And no way to ask them. She catches on.

Oh! Also, you can just talk in your head and I'll hear it. It's not quite telepathy, but you and I are closer than the elements are to you, since I was the first.

You ask why the people of Teyvat didn't kill them, or why the elements couldn't.

You didn't want us interfering with the world so directly. That's why you gave my siblings the ability to grant Visions and the Gnosis. So they could still shape the world and watch over the souls they cared for.

You didn't want them to rule Teyvat, or to terrorize it, so you set some limitations on them.

Let's just say vaporizing an entire civilization was the kind of thing that caused backlash, massively draining them. They've spent all the time since then regaining their strength.

As for the mortals, they were just happy to have who they thought was you back.

You ask what the past you was like.

I can't tell you that. You'll remember on your own time.

You tell her that's not helpful, and also kind of a dick move to get your hopes up like that. She giggles.

This you is much more feisty. I like that.

You ask for any advice she can give you, because you're pretty lost and more or less without a clue right now. She perks up a little.

You'll make some friends in Liyue. I promise. Not everyone on Teyvat is hostile.

She looks away awkwardly.

Just, um. Most of them. Sorry. And I can't tell you who.

You sigh. At least there's a chance for someone to not immediately murder you.

Our time is up for now. I'm sorry. The waking world calls for you.

You tell her that the two of you will meet again and give her a wink. She laughs.

(Her warm, bright laughter follows you up to the world above.)

You wake with a terrible pain in the neck, and a golden band around your throat where you were decapitated.

You're more than a bit pissed about having your head chopped off because of someone else that's wearing your face.

A shitty copy at that.

You hope you'll meet one of those friends you were promised soon, because right now there's very little attachment to Teyvat as a whole.

(You meet your new friend not even three minutes later when she trips over your prone form and drops all her herbs.)

You awkwardly stare at Qiqi, who stares back at you with a mildly perplexed look.

"You... are not familiar," she says, tilting her head slightly as if she was a curious puppy. "But you seem nice."

"I'd hope I seem nice. You're the first person to not immediately try and kill me." You say, defensively.

You think she looks concerned, but reading her face is... well, difficult. Since she's an undead and all.

She offers a hand to you, and with her help, you get back on your feet.

"Thanks, Qiqi," you say, and then immediately have an 'oh shit' because she hasn't even fucking introduced herself.

"Have we met?" She asks.

"Nope. You're just famous where I'm from," you hastily explain. "Lots of people like you and want to be your friend."

She seems to consider it, but about halfway through she forgets and stops caring.

"Do you want me to help you pick up your herbs?" You offer.

She nods.

Qiqi delicately retrieves the various plants that were in her basket, and you point out any she misses.

"Are you from Liyue?"

"No, I'm just passing through."

"...ah."

You have a sudden alarm ringing in the back of your head and hit the grass, grabbing Qiqi and yanking her down with you.

You give her a small smile. She smiles back and then seems surprised she can. Then her smile widens slightly as she smiles for the sake of smiling, too.

"I like you," she says simply, with all the confidence of a child zombie. "Would you like to be friends?"

"I'd like that." You say genuinely. "I don't have a lot of those here."

"Then we're friends," Qiqi says with all seriousness before pulling out a notebook. "I will write your name down so I always remember you are my friend."

An arrow covered in icy mist whizzes just barely over your head and explodes several yards away, freezing a large circle of grass.

"Fuck!" You hiss, looking up to see Ganyu in the distance.

The look on her face is nothing short of barely concealed hatred. Her face is nearly expressionless, but there's open aggression and hostility in her eyes.

If looks could kill, you'd be a smoking crater.

"Go, Qiqi," you urge gently, nudging the jiangshi in the back.

She may be a zombie child, but she is no fool, very clearly understanding what's about to occur.

She quickly makes herself scarce.

As soon as she's out of the way, your gift spins to life, and your hands crackle with arcs of electro.

Ganyu lets another arrow fly.

You launch towards her, the world slowing to a crawl as you accelerate, her arrow sluggishly spiraling by you.

Right as you're about to be in range with a weapon, she... disengages.

Leaving behind a fucking ice lotus.

A wash of pure cold carves into you, sapping your body heat and leaving you winded.

You manage to roll away from the lotus, but her next arrow gouges into your thigh. You cry out in pain, indigo blood oozing down your leg and staining your pants.

You slam into her shoulder-first with the aid of your gift, the two of you crashing into the dirt and grass with a brutal force that leaves Ganyu wheezing.

Her hands come up to grab your throat, her grip like iron and tighter than a vice.

You briefly claw at her wrists, but the edges of your vision are beginning to darken.

You reach out, grab a horn, and yank.

Snap.

Ganyu wails. Her hands instantly move from your throat as she scrambles back, clutching the bleeding stump of her left horn in one hand. She isn't even paying attention to you anymore, lost in the agony.

You gasp for breath, taking in deep lungfuls of air.

Ganyu doesn't move to re-engage. She seems to be having difficulty staying conscious.

When she stands, her legs are shaking, and her attempt to move in your direction ends with her toppling over.

It's likely her horns have nerves, given their nearness to her human brain, and who knows what kind of function they serve? Do they help her sense which way is upright or help her orientate her body?

Whatever the case, she's down by half and now struggling to keep her balance.

You pretend to throw the horn at her as a distraction tactic, and she scrambles for it, not quite realizing you never let it go.

You flee, the arrow still in your leg and sending bolts of searing agony through you, the Quilin horn clutched tight in your hand.

(You fall asleep beneath a tree, which begins to grow rapidly due to the blood oozing from your now-healed wounds. An Archon approaches your unconscious form.)

When you wake, it's to jeering. You're... on a boat near the Guyun Stone Forest. There's a crowd watching you from the docks and shorelines, spitting insults and calling for your death sentence to be hastened. You can only faintly hear them.

Your limbs are bound in heavy chain and weighted with dense iron locks.

Zhongli glares at you like you're nothing more than a particularly vile insect.

Ganyu keeps fidgeting with the band of gold holding her horn in place now. She seems unsteady on her feet, especially on this boat. She watches you with something between hostility and fear.

Ningguang snarls at you for a moment with raw hatred when you make eye contact, but she swiftly schools her expression into an icy glare.

Keqing doesn't bother to look at you.

Zhongli must not like the look you give them because he steps forward and backhands you so hard you pull something in your neck and lose a tooth.

How dare they do this to you?

Your lip is busted and throbbing with pain. You, in a fit of spite, spit your blood onto his boot.

You're swiftly tossed into the sea and immediately begin to drown.

Before the darkness can claim you, several stone spears pierce your torso and limbs and make you sink to the seafloor as if the stone was lead instead.

You are so very cold.

(The sea goes as still and flat as a sheet of glass.)

Your eyes open in the lightless depths of the ocean.

Before you lies an ancient, imprisoned serpent - Osial, the Overlord of the Vortex.

You lay next to one of his heads. A single massive eye is trained on you.

"...my creator?" He asks, hesitant. "Why - no, how - are you down here?"

"Morax."

His eyes narrow in anger. "Wretched lizard. Had I my freedom, I would skin him alive and offer his carcass as tribute to you."

You breathe out a sigh through the gills you didn't have before.

"I wouldn't stop you at this point." You murmur bitterly.

(You and Osial lay there in the darkness of the sea together, side by side, prisoners of the same Archon.)

((Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead @call-me-shroom @evqnescents @valeriele3 @mochicurls21

[lowkeychenle]

Try Me On [NJM] (feat. Chenle)

Description: FWB!Jaemin takes you to buy lingerie. You're surprised when he tells you to pick out one Chenle will like too, until you realize what his goal is. A few photos and a video call later, you know you're in for it the next time you see Chenle.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,073

Content Warnings: So much goes on here lmfao sooo public sex (Jaemin), phone sex (Chenle), one lil instance of a hand necklace (thank you Jaemin), use of the term Princess, Chenle calls them brats yada yada oh and unprotected sex (plz don't do this part)...and use of mirrors.......and taking pics and videos there's a lot okay

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader x Na Jaemin

Author's Note: This is the second installment...so you should read the first part of the AU first, but the poly portion of it is kind of ambiguous right now? They'll get there eventually but the smut needs to progress naturally to that point (bc boo more smut right?)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle Series Masterlist]

General Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @haeigoo

“Isn’t the whole point of lingerie like, you being surprised?” You furrow your eyebrows at Jaemin. “Plus, what if someone sees you with me?”

“You know we’re still friends in real life, right?” Jaemin chuckles as he walks into the store behind you.

“Male friends don’t usually go with female friends to try on underwear, Jaem,” you remind him, eyes already snagging on a few pieces you like.

“I’m a man, and you need a man’s opinion. Sounds simple enough to me.”

You snort in response.

“It’s not complicated at all, Princess. Plus, I paid them to close the store for two hours so you could find whatever you’d like.” His tone is so nonchalant, you almost miss what he actually said.

“You paid them for what?” Your jaw drops. “Jaemin, what the hell? What if they know who you are?”

“Money solves all problems,” he says. “Stop worrying. The clock is ticking and if I don’t see you at least 90% naked, I’m gonna make you 100% naked in the middle of the store.”

Your cheeks suddenly burn like you’re on fire. There’s not an ounce of humor in his voice.

“While you’re at it,” he pauses briefly, almost like he has to come to terms with what he’s about to say next, “find something Chenle would like, too.”

No way in hell today is happening. It’s completely possible you’re dreaming right now, because Na Jaemin just told you to pick out lingerie sets to wear for him and your other fuck buddy. It’s only been a week since you took both of them at once. Things seemed fairly normal after that—as in, they went back to having completely separate relationships with you.

“Didn’t know you thought of me with Chenle a lot,” you mutter, looking anywhere but at Jaemin.

“At first it was a little bit of an ego shot.” Jaemin’s honesty almost knocks you off your feet. “But it feels normal now. And I’m not going to buy you lingerie to wear for me and not think of the way Chenle has bent you over every surface of your house.”

“Jaem—“

“I never realized how turned on I’d get at the idea of watching you get fucked by someone else. You were so overwhelmed, Princess. It was sexy.” He runs his fingers through his hair, chest rising. “Pick some out for him, too.”

You clear your throat, trying your best to pretend his simple words didn’t have heat swarming inside you. If the offer was on the table, you’d take them both again. The pleasure was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you swear you can still feel it tingling inside you at the mere thought of them.

Jaemin prefers lighter colors. Pinks, whites, baby blues. He likes feigned innocence and purity, fabric that left little to the imagination but still covered you enough to leave him some joy in unwrapping you.

And even though you hadn’t ever dressed in lingerie for Chenle, you have a feeling you know what he likes. Blacks, reds, deep, royal blue. For him, you couldn’t really convince yourself he’d like anything more than he likes seeing you naked.

You pick out four to try on. There’s only one that might spark something for Chenle, but you aren’t completely sure. Jaemin would help you decide.

You head over to the fitting rooms, giving Jaemin a wide-eyed glance when he tries to follow you. The worker stops him.

“Sorry, sir, I can’t let you go in there.” She holds up her hand.

“Ah.” With a sigh, he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He opens it and grabs a wad of cash, holding it out to the woman. “I don’t even think I’m really here right now.”

Reluctantly, she takes it from him and disappears toward the front of the store. You should scold him for doing something like that, but you can’t help but like it much more than you should.

Jaemin leads you into the room by the small of your back, closing and locking the door behind you. You’re not sure what to expect from him. There’s plenty of space to move around, and he sits on the bench on the far side of the room. You stand between him and the mirror, the skimpy shreds of fabric clutched to your chest.

“You want me to just…”

“Yep.” He grins, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve seen it all, baby.”

“It’s different in this context. What if they look bad on me?” You frown at him.

He scoffs. “(Y/N), in no world are any of those gonna look bad. You’re so sexy, you make me hard no matter what you’re wearing.”

You won’t lie—he boosts your confidence way more than you should allow. If Na Jaemin is calling you sexy, you have to be, right?

“Try Chenle’s on first. We’ll send him a picture.” Jaemin pulls his phone out of his pocket and winks. “Think he’s busy?”

You pull your shirt over your head. “He said he was recording with Donghyuck and Renjun today.”

“Let’s make his day a little harder, huh?” He chuckles to himself, leaning back against the wall as he watches you strip.

His gaze drinks in every inch of your bare skin as you remove the rest of your clothing. You try to ignore the dark look in his eyes once you’re fully naked, really try, but everything he does makes you crave him beyond belief.

The royal blue fabric is intense, despite the lack of material. It’s completely sheer, displaying your already peaked nipples without even a smidge of coverage.

“Fuck,” Jaemin mumbles, shifting forward. “You look so fucking good.”

“I don’t know about that.” You let out a small laugh.

“C’mere. We’ll ask Chenle.” He spreads his legs, and you already know what he wants you to do.

“Jaem…”

“Baby,” he whines. “Come get on your knees and let me show him. You didn’t mind both of us at the same time last week.”

You do as he asks, kneeling in front of him and placing your palms on your knees. Gulping, you patiently wait as he positions his phone to take the photo.

“You look so good,” he says, wetting his lips. “Wanna do one more pose for him?”

Against your better judgment, you nod.

“Put your ass up.” It’s not a suggestion.

You listen, turning around and sliding your chest against the floor. The hardwood is cold on your skin, but Jaemin’s sharp inhale makes you undeniably warm. With a burst of confidence, you spread your legs a but further, knowing you’re giving him a clear view of your pussy.

Jaemin grips your ass while he takes the picture.

“Okay, baby. Get one of the other ones. Hurry, or I’ll have to fuck you in this one before Chenle does.”

Blushing, you get up and grab the pink one you picked out. You barely have time to get it all the way on when Jaemin’s phone buzzes once, twice, three times.

He looks at the screen and chuckles. “Chenle’s mad at me. He said he wants to, and I quote, rip that flimsy fabric off of her and fuck her stupid.”

You’re so weak when it comes to them. Jaemin glances up at you, a dark look in his brown eyes.

“My God, look at you.” He clicks his tongue. “Should we keep playing with him? I think so.”

“We can’t stay here all day,” you warn him. “We’ve already been here for an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the choice then.” He sighs. “You can suck my cock or you can get fucked while I send videos of us to Chenle.”

“This isn’t real.” You laugh, smacking your palm to your forehead. “Jaemin, we’re in public!”

“This is a closed room,” he replies.

His gaze rakes over your body.

“We’ll buy that one, too. Put the white one on and pick an option.”

Your logic doesn’t work when you’re around Jaemin. He offers to fuck you and you melt into a puddle immediately no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Your body knows he doesn’t stop until you’ve finished, and now you crave release.

“We gotta be fast, babe.” He unbuttons his pants as you put the white set on. “Please, please pick getting fucked. I’ve been so hard this whole time.”

If you’re going to commit to this, you’ll act the part, too. You put on the best seductive face you can, moving slowly over to him until you’re standing between his legs.

“I’m buying you all of these,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Too fucking sexy.” He turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, his fingers trailing up your bare sides and sneaking under the white lace.

You gasp when he yanks you down onto his lap, hands resting on your hips. He chuckles lowly, kissing from your shoulder to your jawline.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, eyes nearly rolling when his touch ghosts along your inner thighs.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me.” He squeezes your leg.

“I’m ready.” You grind down the best you can, living for the way he hums in response.

He releases you, allowing you to stand up while he pushes his jeans down. Reaching into his boxers, he pulls himself out of his boxers, stroking a couple times before he beckons for you to join him. You climb over him and make sure to face the mirror while you straddle him. The uncomfortable plastic of the bench digs into your knees, but as Jaemin slides the thin fabric covering your heat aside, you don’t even think of it.

“God,” he groans when he slides a finger along your entrance. “You must fucking love the thought of both of us, don’t you?”

“You might like it a little more than me,” you tease him.

You barely get the sentence out before he’s guiding his throbbing cock into you. Once he’s fully inside, every word you considered saying next has disappeared, and all that’s left is how good he feels. The stretch is a little harder to take without foreplay, but he allows you time to adjust.

“Princess,” he mutters against your ear. “You brought him into this. I’m being good and sharing, is that not what you want? Because I can just as easily keep you for myself.”

You lift yourself up with his guidance, moaning when he thrusts up to meet you on the way back down. He inhales sharply, grabbing his phone.

“Keep going,” he commands.

It’s hard to move in this position, so you’re not able to ride him the way you usually would, but the lack of mobility sends more wetness to your core. You’re desperate to take all of him. Focusing on his pleasure, you ignore the ache forming in your thighs.

His hand travels over the expanse of your stomach, and from the way you see him holding his phone in the mirror, you know he’s recording. You try your best to move faster, wanting to give the recipient of the video that much more material. He finds your clit rubbing it just enough to have you moan loudly and jolt your hips before he stops.

He drops his head against the wall, ending the recording and sending it to Chenle.

“How does it feel, Princess?” he asks, touch dancing along your collarbone. The soft fabric of his sweatshirt presses into your back, and you wish more than anything you could feel his bare skin against yours. He gives your throat a quick squeeze. “You’re stuffed full of my cock, and Chenle’s watching that video wishing he was me.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Jaem, are you getting jealous?”

He fully wraps his hand around your neck and tugs you back until he’s talking in your ear. “Careful, baby,” he warns you. “Don’t give me a reason to be.”

His phone vibrates with an incoming call against the bench, and you stop moving. You settle onto his lap even though your entire body begs you to continue. Jaemin answers, but he doesn’t have time to say anything before Chenle starts scolding him.

“What part of I’m recording with Renjun and Donghyuck did you two not fucking understand?” His voice sounds strained. “You fucking brats.”

“Keep going, Princess.” Jaemin pats your leg before returning his attention to Chenle. “She looks sexy in white, doesn’t she?”

You resume your motions, trying to set a steady pace while Jaemin rubs your thigh.

“Fuck you, Jaemin,” Chenle groans, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I don’t have a lot of time, and I’m hard as hell. Can’t believe I’m stuck recording while you’re fucking our girl.”

Our girl. You whimper at the words, and you’re not sure if the twitch of Jaemin’s cock buried deep inside you is from you or Chenle.

Your legs burn at this point, but when the signature FaceTime sound starts, you don’t dare slow down your pace. Jaemin feels heavenly inside you, and the thought of Chenle watching has you dripping down your thighs. You forget you’re in public for a moment, moans falling from your lips as Jaemin positions the phone in front of you. He uses his knees to spread you apart further, and he sinks a little further inside you.

Chenle has the perfect view of you riding Jaemin.

“You’ve always been too easy on her,” Chenle growls. “Play with her tits.”

You’re surprised Jaemin listens to the other’s command. He immediately slides his hand beneath the white fabric and tweaks your nipple. Your hips jerk and you’re so close to begging him to make you cum. You feel the high approaching, but you need more. His length is heavenly inside you, but it’s not enough to push you over the edge, and both he and Chenle know that. Your clit throbs, screaming at you to give it attention.

“She doesn’t get to finish,” Chenle says. “Fuck her until you’re done, but she doesn’t deserve it yet.”

You cry out in protest.

“She’s so pretty when she cums, though.” Jaemin pouts, moving down until his fingers tease your lower stomach.

“My God, please.” You move faster. “Please, I need it so bad.”

“Don’t you hear her?” Jaemin hums. “I always make my princess cum. What are you gonna do about it?”

His fingers connect with your clit, and you let out a much too-loud moan as your hips jerk. You move faster on top of him, wanting nothing more than to fall apart. Right before the high washes over you, he stops.

“Fuck,” you hiss, trying to get that feeling back.

Chenle’s breath hitches, and the sounds coming from his end of the phone tells you he’s fisting his cock right now.

“I’ll punish both of you.”

Jaemin’s length twitches inside you, and this time, you know it’s from Chenle. Warmth floods your legs as all sorts of images flash across your mind. You don’t want to be punished, but you desperately want to cum. Your body aches, and there’s an intense pressure building in your abdomen that makes your skin sticky with sweat and your core flutter around Jaemin.

Smirking, he finds your clit again. Almost like he knows what’s going to happen, he drops his phone and covers your mouth with his hand, muffling your scream of pleasure as your walls clamp down on him. Your vision turns white, and you barely notice what happens next between your delirious state and the way Chenle’s moans filter through the phone.

Jaemin pulls you off him and turns you around so he can look at you. You’re back on his lap within seconds, and he tugs you down until you’re filled with him all over again. He seems to have forgotten about the other man. He thrusts upward, nails digging into your hips to pull you down every time.

Another few seconds later, and his head is falling back against the wall with a thud as his warm cum fills you. He gives himself a moment to calm down, and then he grabs his phone. With your head buried in his neck, you shy away from the camera.

“Both of you better be at my fucking house in the next half an hour, understood?” Chenle’s voice is low and a bit scratchy. “I’m getting out of here, and by the time I get home, both of you better be waiting.”

“One more thing,” Jaemin says. He wraps his arm around you and lays you back against the bench. As he slides his cock out of you, he positions his phone so Chenle has a clear view of Jaemin’s cum leaking out of your pussy and gathering on the ruined lingerie.

“Don’t piss me off even more.” Chenle huffs. “Half an hour, Jaemin. I’m not playing with you.”

“We’ll see.” Jaemin grins widely, winking at his phone before hanging up. He tosses it to the side, returning his attention to you. “Are you okay, Princess? That wasn’t too much, was it?”

“I’m good.” You nod, closing your eyes. “We definitely have to buy this one now.”

He chuckles, helping you sit up. “I already paid for all of them. Did you really think I’d fuck you in it and then pay for it? I’m not a monster.”

You stand on your shaky legs, and he helps you remove the ruined fabric and grabs your clothes. Once both of you are fully dressed, he goes out to the cashier to get a bag. You put all four sets into it. When you see yourself in the mirror, you cringe at how messy you look. There’s no way that woman out there won’t know what happened in here—if she hadn’t heard you first.

You don’t look at her as you follow Jaemin out of the store. He flashes his dazzling smile at you, and you’re not sure why that sends a flutter to your heart.

“Guess we’d better go to Chenle’s, huh?” He raises his eyebrows. “He’s not very happy with us.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” You pout but nod anyway.

He laughs and throws his arm over your shoulder. “You were literally fucking yourself on my cock, babe. I think that counts as something.”

Even with your legs shaking as you walk to Jaemin’s car, everything inside you tingles with excitement at the thought of Chenle punishing you.

[writingsfromhome]

Impossibly Real II

Y’all loved Part 1 and honestly were so sweet about it. I had to wrap up their story in return 💗

——————————————————

Harry knocks on my door and I open it before he's even done. I was excited for this date, I really think this was going to be a good one.

That didn’t stop me, however, from having mad jitters while getting ready. In the end I settled on wearing a silky pink skirt and with a fuzzy pastel pink sweater that was my favourite go-to. I paired it with white boots (still heeled) and some gold accessories. I was feeling myself.

As soon as Harry sees me in the doorway he takes a step back. “Wow. You look…stunning.”

I feel my cheeks heat, unused to this kind of attention from Harry. And I could tell he meant it—it wasn’t just a cheap compliment to get in my pants. I try not to show my internal squirming. “Thank you. You look very handsome!”

“Ah,” he waves the compliment away. “You see me wear this sort of thing to work all the time.”

“I know but you shaved,” I reach out to touch his face and then think better of it. We hadn’t even gone further than my door yet.

“I did,” he rubs his face like I wanted to.

“I like the smell of your aftershave,” I say as we get onto the lift and the smell bounces off the four walls.

He leans all the way down so that his neck is beside my face. I giggle—god, I actually giggle. I feel an overwhelming desire to rub my nose against the heat of his skin but I keep my freak hidden and fake an exaggerated whiff instead.

“C’mon,” Harry holds his hand out and we head out to the tube, my hand securely wrapped in his; I feel giddy just holding his hand.

This was going to be the best date ever.

I mean, it was still weird going on a date with my neighbour. For one, he had to only close the door to his home, turn around, and knock on my door to pick me up. For another, I'd seen Harry a million times since I moved in last year and not once did I ever think we would be doing this.

Harry and I talk all the way to the place about a new Netflix show we were both watching. It's light conversation, we don't acknowledge the fact that we're actually doing a proper date. That we were both mega into each other. It's almost like we were simply traveling into work and casually chatting 'til we reached our destination.

The restaurant—Harry’s pick, is tucked onto a street corner near Soho, the window shades are blackened except for a fancy script. Island X.

“I’ve never heard of the place.”

“It just opened a couple months ago,” Harry holds the door open for me; who said chivalry was dead.

“Wow,” I marvel at the interiors. It’s like someone took the Great Gatsby and worked it with wood tones and orange lighting. And monstera plants.

“That’s a lot of monsteras.”

“What?” Harry asks.

“Monsteras?” I wave my hand at all the ginormous planters but Harry’s attention is to the front of the line.

“Monsteras?” He asks, eyes still forward. “Like. The Lil Nas x song?”

“What?” I crinkle my brow. But then it clicks and I can’t help but laugh. “Oh my god you think I’m talking about-“

“Hiya!” The hostess interrupts me and I cover my mouth.

“Are you laughing at me?” Harry whispers as we follow to our table.

“Yes,” I wipe my tears as we’re lead to a cozy corner. I’m even tucked into my seat!

“Wow I’ve never been to someplace as fancy as this?”

“Really?” Harry’s face flits with a microsecond of an emotion I can’t read. “I thought maybe this was your scene.”

“Oh no,” I shake my head. “This is very fancy. I’m kinda low brow.”

“Oh,” his eyebrows knit together and he fiddles with his napkin. “Some woman at work suggested it.”

“Oh who?” I ask. Harry’s spoken to me about work before, I thought maybe it was a coworker I knew.

“Just someone that works on the same floor.” He pulls his glass of water close to him. “She’s just a friend.”

“Oh I didn’t mean it like…” I trail off. Why would he think I was being jealous?

Suddenly the awkwardness of the situation washes over me. I was on a date. With my neighbour. If this didn't end well we were screwed. I would lose my only friend in the entire neighbourhood! It would be painful to live next door to each other! At least until one of us found a partner or one of us moved out of the complex.

The pressure of it all makes my ears ring.

“Right,” Harry clears his throat as the waiter approaches and starts to scan the wines. “Any of the wines look good to you?”

I stare at Harry while he buries his nose in the menu. Somehow I felt like I already messed up. Maybe all of these bad dates had one thing in common: me.

God, I couldn’t even make it work with a friend.

Harry glances up. I guess I forgot to respond. Before he could notice I’d been too busy staring I start to scan the menu.

“D’you mind red?” I ask.

“Sure. Which red do you recommend?” Harry asks the waiter. I think it’s cute he asks. Dates in the past have pretended to know the difference between all the names and then ordered something that usually tasted like dog shite.

They discuss the wine and I pretend to nod here and there while I browse the dinner menu. Obviously I had studied it after getting dressed tonight. I knew what was safe for me to get (pasta or seafood) and what would cause a big mess (burgers).

“I’m gonna guess what you’ll order.” Harry says once we’re alone again.

“You really think you know me well enough?”

“Yeah. I think I know you well enough.”

“I don’t think so.” He might have a lucky guess but we hadn’t eaten out together enough for him to know my taste. Plus what I wanted and what I was going to order tonight would be two different things.

“I bet you I know. I’m so confident I’m not even going to say it right now. I’ll just order for you when the waiter comes back.”

“Are we confident or cocky?” I tease.

“Confident,” he says but he drapes his arms back against his chair and relaxes, giving an f-boy cocky pose. I laugh, grateful for the reprieve of living in my thoughts.

“Ready to order?” The waiter asks after pouring our wine. It was a nice balanced wine that was helping me relax.

Harry orders his meal and then looks up at me, “She’ll get the Organic Highland Prime Burg-“

“Actually,” I cut him off. Harry looks at me with his sure smile but I shake my head. It falls immediately.

I feel bad but I just couldn’t eat a burger at a fancy place like this on a first date. I’d done it before and it had not gone over well. Think White Chicks but instead of a Terry Crews it was a Ben Shapiro.

“Sorry,” I point to the safe item. “I’ll do the Blackened Lobster Lasagna.”

“Great choice.” The waiter says something else but I’m too preoccupied with how much worse I was making the date.

“Really?” Harry asks. The waiter pauses as he looks between Harry and I and I start to flush.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” It comes out more curt than I intended and Harry just nods.

“Sorry.” I apologize to Harry again once the waiter leaves. “I didn’t really want something messy.”

“Oh. Yeah it’s alright.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "The lasagna does sound really good.”

“Right? I think it'll be really good.” I hear myself talking and want to stab myself. Really. Because this king of small talk was what I fell back on talking about when a date was going bad.

I had to redeem this. This couldn’t be a bad date. This was just Harry.

“This wine’s good too,” Harry says as he puts his glass down on the edge just as I yank my foot out from under the table to show him my shoes, yanking the table cloth in the process.

“So my shoes-“

“Shit!”

His wine tips over onto my white boots and we stare at them as the stain spreads.

“Napkin-“ Harry’s voice snaps me out of the spiral I’d found myself in as I watched wine seep into my coveted shoes.

Harry’s leaning over patting it down but I yank my foot away. This was incredibly embarrassing; everyone around us was watching the scene we were making.

“We need water-“

“I’m going to the toilet,” I announce. Harry looks up sharply, his face is panicked.

“I’m sorry yn I-“

“S’cuse,” I don’t mean to brush him away but with all the eyes on me and the fact that I kept finding ways to ruin this date—this date that was supposed to be perfect, my eyes were pricking with tears. I needed a breather.

“Shite,” I sigh as I balance on one foot in the toilets and try to wipe the stain in the sink. But red wine stained badly just like my performance on every date I’ve ever been on.

“Get yourself together,” I say to myself in the mirror. “Harry is amazing and you’re fucking all this up! Shoes are temporary, finding a good man can take forever! Snap! Out! Of! It!”

I do some deep breaths and one last attempt at cleaning my shoe before I make my way out.

“Yn I’m so sorry,” Harry stands as I return. “I’m so clumsy tonight I didn’t mean to-“

“Harry it’s fine,” I put my hand on his arm. “Honestly.”

“The stain didn’t come out!” He notices the shoes. “I’ll replace them—send me a bill or…”

I don’t have the heart to tell them he couldn’t replace my £400 Acne boots that easily. I’d bought them a couple seasons ago to celebrate the fact that I’d finally gone out with a guy, and hadn’t thought about my ex once. They were I’m-officially-over-my-ex boots.

Now that I thought about it though, it was stupid to wear them on a date with Harry. They were soaked in the bad luck of all the dates they’d been on since.

Agh!

“I’m serious Har,” I cut him off from his plans to replace them. I take a deep breath and motion he should do the same. “Look, it’s really fine. Plus they’re my favourite colour now. They’ll go with the rest of my wardrobe.”

He stops apologizing and looks down at the splotch of pink on the white. “In that case. We’ll have to take the bottle home and stain the other one.”

“Deal,” I say and he smiles at me softly and it feels like things might go better now. Maybe we really had a chance.

When our food arrives Harry’s steak isn’t done how he asked, and they take it back. I awkwardly push around the food on my plate, not wanting to eat until he had his food too.

“You can eat,” Harry reminds me. “I’m sure it’ll be out any minute.”

“We can share for no-“

“Just eat,” Harry says but now all the focus is on me eating and I feel tense and awkward and quite frankly, frustrated.

I shouldn’t have piled so much hope on this date going perfectly.

We wave the waiter over when too much time has passed by, and he seems confused about the steak.

“D’you think they forgot?” I ask Harry.

“Maybe,” he looks frustrated, two spots of pink have taken residence on his cheeks. I feel bad. This date wasn’t turning out for both of us.

It takes another 10 minutes for his plate to come back out. By then my plate looks like I hated it but tried to eat it to be polite. Harry tries to ask if it can be heated but I’m way too non-confrontational in restaurants to let that happen so I shovel a mouthful of room temperature food and give the waiter a thumbs up.

I just wanted to go home.

By the time Harry pays the bill (it was expensive, even though we agreed to skip dessert. He insisted on paying) I was ready to call an uber to whiz us home. But he suggests we walk off the food to another station and it sounds like a good idea so I follow along. Maybe now we could have a nice time.

The walk was supposed to help clear our heads and be romantic but somehow the mood had soured beyond repair. We don’t talk the whole time, both of us lost in our own heads. Neither of us holds hands, or even loop arms.

And somehow it gets worse when we arrive at my door.

"Well this is me," Harry points to his door beside mine in an attempt at a joke. I throw a polite smile.

"Thanks for the date," I say. I feel like it's a little curt but I didn't really know how to act. Did we hug? Shake hands? We liked each other but clearly this date was proving we didn't belong together. Kissing each other goodnight felt like the opposite direction of tonight's vibe.

"No, thank you. And sorry. Again." Harry looks embarrassed as he glances down at my shoes.

"Harry, honestly it's okay," I try to reassure him. I would take walking ten miles in heels I had yet to break in than this awkward air that stifled us. It was never supposed to be like this!

"No it's not," Harry huffs. "I ruined your shoes."

"They're shoes. Just shoes."

"It's a first date, I don't want you thinking I'm a clumsy mess."

"Harry," I lean my back against my door. He looked so good tonight, I was so excited when I opened my door to him a few hours ago and everything had gone tits up. I didn't want him to feel this way. It was my fault, not his.

"I just," he rubs his face and then sighs.

"It wasn't that bad," I lie. The night had gone so badly.

"Yes it is!" He throws his hands up and the movement makes me flinch. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. God, everything's just..."

I blink and my eyes start to sting. It was the end of the night and we'd officially decided this wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't a shock, but still it was upsetting. I really liked him. I really thought things would work out between us, especially after that night with my heels in his bathroom. I had to call it.

"I should go in. I'll see you later Harry."

His brows scrunch up, he opens his mouth and then closes it. "G'night yn."

"G'night." I whisper. He stays there like he always does as I go into my flat. I peek through the peephole and catch him mouth a fuck before opening his own door.

Still in my outfit, my shoes kicked off to the side, I start to pace. I can't do anything except go over the date in my head.

Was there a particular moment I fucked up? Should I have said something differently? How did Harry and I go from having amazing chemistry and an honest friendship to this?

Maybe I was trying too hard. I should have just ordered the burger like he’d guessed, should have gone along with what he talked about. I should have been a better date.

That was it. I couldn't go to bed like this.

The fact that every time I had a shot at a date, a real chance, something had to go wrong and it was always me. I had to fix this.

I grab the doorknob, and pause. I was about to march right into Harry's flat and ask why the date went so terribly. But what was the point? It would just make things even more awkward.

I think about the last time we hung out. There was beer. Maybe we just need beer—no hundred pound dish or fancy red wine. We just needed to be us. Lowbrow beers and a relaxed environment.

I grab a jacket to throw over my outfit and slip into my Stan Smiths. I head downstairs and in the direction of the local shop for a 6-pack. We would drink beer in our flat and get over this awful date. This couldn't be the last of us.

As I cash out a familiar head of hair in the closest aisle catches my attention.

"Harry?"

"Yn?" He's dressed down in joggers and a jumper.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Grabbing dessert," he shakes the plastic container with donuts inside. "What are you doing here?"

I hold my box up. His eyes widen slightly, a frown touches his lips for a mere second before he arranges his face into a neutral expression.

"All for yourself?" He asks.

"No actually-“ I'm about to launch into what I was going to do but the cashier clears his throat and stares pointedly at Harry. He was holding up the line now.

"Oh sorry," he walks up to the counter and pays for his items. I stand off to the side and we walk out together.

"So you were saying?" He asks.

"Well. I was coming to your place with these."

"You were?" He stops in the middle of the sidewalk to ask.

"Yeah!"

"You're not joking?"

"No!" I laugh. "Why?"

"I..." he looks down at his box and swallows what he was saying. "Let me guess, was it a bad date?"

When he looks at me it's a cheeky look. I almost want to kiss him there.

"Another bad date yep," I tell him and we start to walk towards home.

"Was it the bloke?"

"Not exactly, I think a lot of it had to do with me."

"You sure the date wasn't an arse?"

"No he was sweet. He was very chivalrous, I really thought it was just going to go smoother."

"What do you reckon happened?" He asks. We were both enjoying playing this game. Quite frankly it was combing out the awkwardness.

"I dunno. For one I really wanted a burger but I got in my head and got lasagna instead. When do I ever eat lasagna!?” Harry laughs unexpectedly and it makes me feel good so I continue. “I started thinking about all of my failed dates and almost-relationship. I tried not to make this one date turn out like them but that was my mistake.”

“Sounds like it’s tough being you,” he teases. I push him lightly.

“Well if you could put yourself in our shoes what do you think happened?"

"I think your date got a bit nervous." He responds. By now we've reached our lobby and we take the lift up. "He's not used to going on dates—didn’t he have a steady girlfriend for 3 years? That's 3 years with 0 first dates. He didn’t want to screw things up and he was so in his head about the fact that he took her to an overly fancy place when that wasn’t her scene-“

“It’s not. But it was a cute place. Just poor service.”

“Yeah it was shite service—or I heard it was.” We glance at each other and grin. "I heard he split wine on your shoes."

"Psh," I laugh. “The pink stains were on the outside this time not the inside.”

The lift lands on our floor and we hover outside our doors. "Yours or mine?"

"Mine?" Harry opens his door and I follow the familiar hall to the couch I'd sat on just a week ago. I pull my legs up and we crack open beers, each biting into the sugary pillows he'd bought.

“I actually bought dessert so I could have an excuse to knock on your door and talk to you after that date.” Harry confesses after we’ve each had our moment with our donuts.

I feel warm inside, we’d both wanted an epilogue after the date. We were determined, and ended up in the same place. I hold my drink up. “Cheers.”

Harry tilts his head and smiles. He’s gonna be the death of me whether this works out or not, the thought pops into my head.

"I feel like I need to apologize," Harry continues. "I didn't want to mess things up and I think I just overthought it all and-"

"Please." I cut him off. "I totally made everything awkward and I think I'm just cursed."

"I don't know why I thought you would like such a fancy place. As soon as you said you're not into it I felt like I was doomed-"

"I didn't mind it! I just wasn't expecting it from you!"

"You don't think I'm a classy man?"

I laugh, "Just not that uppity on a first date."

"I was trying to pull out all the stops."

"Instead we just full stopped."

That gets a laugh from Harry. It dies down as he asks, "So what do you reckon? Is this a sign we're only meant to be neighborly friends?"

I bite my donut, mulling his question over. The beer and donuts were helping. I felt like I was thinking clearer than I had all night.

"I wouldn't say no."

We sit in silence as we think about it until he moves down the couch and rests his knee against mine.

"I really like you.”

"I like you too," I agree with my heart quickening.

"Then why don't we stop dating and just do this. No dates. Just hanging out."

"I don't know," I say. "I don't mind being wined and dined occasionally. Don’t you?”

"Okay, how about we just hang out. And when hanging out gets boring we put on our going out clothes and wine and dine each other. Think about it," he says and I nod, agreeing.

“Only if when we put on our going out clothes you keep wearing that aftershave.”

“Deal. And you wear your favourite colour each time.”

“Done.” I grin.

"So you wanna watch a movie or something?" He asks.

“Is that a euphemism?” I tease. He turns his TV on and turns to me with a disappointed look. I try not to laugh.

“No yn get your head out of the gutter. A movie. An actual movie.”

I stick my tongue out. "Can we just not watch anything romantic or sad though?”

"Toy Story it is," Harry puts on the film and we lean back against his couch, cuddled into each other. His fingers play with my hair in slow movements that feel comforting.

I wake up a few hours later, the movie long over. Harry's snoring softly, his arm wrapped around me.

I smile to myself. Even after the disaster of a date we were alright.

I nuzzle myself into the crook of his neck, feeling the musky heat of his skin, and drift back off.

***

A knock wakes me.

I open my eyes slowly and look around the room. I wasn't in my room. I was still on the couch, the cushions had done wonders for my back but my neck was stiff.

Harry was still fast asleep, his lips parted, and his arm thrown across his face. He looked so kissable then.

There was another knock, and Harry's arm slips off his face. He sits up, and the knocking resumes.

"Coming!" He shouts as he runs his hands over his face and hair.

He stands and looks back at me, and smiles. He's still sleepy but he's smiling at me.

"Morning." He says.

"Good morning."

He stays there with a dazed smile until I point behind him.

"Door?"

He nods and makes his way over to answer the door.

"Harry Sty-?" a voice asks.

“Yep,” Harry mumbles something I can’t hear. He’s asked to sign whatever it was.

"Thanks," his voice is rough and he clears it.

Closing the door behind him, he throws whatever package he'd received to the floor and walks over to me. "We fell asleep."

"I guess so. I'm still in last night's clothing." My skirt was now wrinkled and my top was half untucked and ridden up my midriff. "What time is it?"

Harry glances at his watch. "Half past 8."

"Shit! I've got work in half hour!"

"Work from here," Harry leans over me on the couch and offers his simple solution.

"I'll have to shower."

"You live next door. Just do your business and come back with your work things. It'll be like old times."

He's inches closer to me, and I really want to kiss him. It's funny we'd done none of that on our first date but now I want a re-do.

"Okay," I whisper.

"Okay," Harry whispers and he closes the distance and kisses me. It was better than our first kiss.

When I pull away I have a stupid smile on my face.

"Go get ready love," Harry laughs and pushes me off the couch. "You'll be late."

"See you later," I wave and walk out the door, smiling because he’d called me love again. And he hadn’t even hesitated.

Harry was right, it was a lot like the old days. In between work meetings, and Harry's calls, we had a lot of time to spend together. We chatted shit, snuck in some kisses, and talked about work.

We don’t go on a second date, instead we order pizza and watch Toy Story 2 (even though we'd fallen asleep in the first one).

Our days together are fun, and the nights were even more fun.

It was a Wednesday, a week and a half after the disastrous date. Harry and I had taken most of the week off and we'd spent it together, and tonight we'd gone out.

It was a great date, nothing fancy or high brow. Just a lowkey pub with a bunch of beers and greasy messy food and tons of laughter.

"So," Harry says as we're walking hand in hand back to our flat. "How many more days of leave do you have?"

"I have four and a half weeks total."

"Woah. That’s a lot."

"Why? You're not regretting this are you? Getting bored of me?" I tease him.

"I've had 29 years to prepare for you," he teases back.

"That's a good one. But I don't think you can handle 4.5 weeks.”

"Try me."

"Fine," I bump my hip into his.

We're silent for the rest of the walk. But it’s a good silence. When we reach the building, Harry takes his time unlocking his door.

"What are you doing?"

"Just waiting," he shrugs and I laugh.

"Do you want me to stay the night?"

"Yes," he answers without any hesitation; in the last week I'd slept in my bed once.

He opens the door pretty quickly after that and I follow inside—tomorrow, tomorrow I would sleep in mine. Harry could join me if he wanted.

Tonight I watch him close the door, the second the lock clicks I'm taking his jacket off for him and he's laughing at my eagerness.

"Someone's impatient."

"I'm not," I lie and drop his jacket.

"No?" He wraps his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. He kisses my jaw, and then the corner of my lips. You'd think I'd be used to this by now but it's just as dizzying as the times before.

I shake my head and his mouth hovers over mine, his hot breath tickling me.

"What about now?" He whispers.

"Nope," I breathe out and I push onto my tippy toes to kiss him. What can I say, I was denying it with him but I'd never been good at the slow and steady stuff. Harry's mouth was a drug, and I couldn't help myself.

He's not slow and steady either.

He's quick to lift me up and set me on the island in his kitchen, his fingers trailing over the edge of my skirt, his mouth working against mine.

His hand cups my ass and his fingers inch closer to my heat.

"Yn," his voice is soft and he pulls away.

"Yes?"

"Did I tell you how radiant you looked tonight? I can’t take my eyes off of you any time I see you, especially when you’re so loudly and comfortably you in your coordinated outfits and elaborate hairstyles. I feel like the luckiest guy out there. I think I am the luckiest guy in the whole city. I catch sight of you in public and…you just take my breath away."

"Aw Har. I’m already yours. You don't have to butter me up," I tease him as I pull him back to me but his words make me weaker than any kiss could. I know my eyes are growing watery at all of the nice things he’s saying and I’m grateful when he pretends not to see.

This was the nicest thing a guy has said to me, he was really telling me that he liked me for me. He felt lucky. Well I must have won the lottery if he felt lucky.

"I know I don't have," he doesn't pull back again but whispers this into my neck. A shiver runs up my spine. "But I just want to tell you that you're so beautiful."

His mouth trails over my jaw, and back to the corner of my mouth, he doesn't kiss me and I want him to.

"So beautiful," he whispers and I tilt my head back to invite him to continue the trail his lips were making. "So sweet."

He kisses my collar bone and the strap of my top. "So lovely."

His hands trail over my thighs and I want him so badly.

"You're making me melt," I tell him.

"Good thing we're in the kitchen," he hums.

"You're the worst," I giggle and his hands cup my cheeks and he presses his lips against mine. His tongue swipes over my lips and I allow him entry.

We're a tangle of limbs as we kiss and kiss, until I can't breathe. When we move to the bedroom I hardly have time to catch my breath there too.

"Yn," his voice is rough, his hair wild. His body is hot against mine and the way he says my name is enough to make me transcend this dimension.

"I like you. A lot."

"I like you too. A lot too." I can barely get the words out as I try to worm my way into his skin.

He chuckles at my growing impatience but he’s too far in to hold back again. He gives in to every one of my needs--even ones I didn't realize I had.

I'm a goner.

As we fall asleep, his arm wrapped tightly around me, I know we did the right thing. Despite being neighbours or the awful first date. The fact that we bumped into each other at the shop later that night meant we were supposed to have a second chance.

We worked best like this: warm and tucked away, whispering confessions into each other’s skin, seeing each other and not caring what we aren’t.

He pulls me closer in his sleep, sighing into my hair. This felt impossible before but it was so real now. And I think I really won the lottery; I’d dated a million toads before but I think I finally found my prince.

TAGLIST:

@kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @mellamolayla

[goldenempyrean]

Woeful Wednesdays

〚 Notes - Hello Hello :) Once again me and the wonderful @lots-of-pockets teamed up to write this :D It was really fun and I love when we do this so I hope everyone else enjoys too! 〛

〚 Pairing - Supercorp 〛

〚 Summary - Being overwhelmed and overworked are never a good combination for Lena - but at least she has someone to take care of her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2690 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Lena Luthor struggled to stifle an exhausted groan as yet another hour crept slowly by. This was not where she wanted to be right now. She’d promised Kara she’d be home in time for dinner, and yet here she was, forced to sit in a meeting with an insufferable group of egotistical men who thought they knew everything when in reality they were hardly worthy of her time. 

Her chair seemed to grow more uncomfortable with each passing minute, and the conference room's cold, sterile atmosphere did little to soothe her growing discomfort. Subtle aches had begun to creep into her joints, and she felt herself shift uncomfortably, trying to suppress the shivers which run up her arms. A persistent sniffle and a raspy cough betrayed the merciless cold she’d been trying so desperately hard to ignore. 

Lena clenched her jaw, her already frail patience wearing thinner as she tried to distract herself from the now-arguing men. Nobody could seem to argue on what to do with an upcoming project and being the only woman in the room, her views weren’t being taken seriously despite her obvious experience and seniority. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the meeting concluded with a tentative plan in place. She wasted no time in gathering her belongings and making her exit from the conference room. The men's constant condescending glances and dismissive attitudes had severely grated on her last nerve. 

With an exhausted sigh, she glanced at her phone and saw it was nearly half an hour past the time she’d promised Kara she’d be home by. Swallowing back the tightness in her throat that seemed to had grown gradually worse as time passed by, she hooked her purse over her shoulder and made her way out of the building.  

The cold hit her almost immediately, her already exhausted body wracked by unpleasant shivers making her wish she hadn’t forgone her coat this morning. Knowing there was no point in dwelling on that bad decision now, she simply climbed into her car and turned on the heat before reaching for her seat belt.  

Lena couldn’t help but out a frustrated groan when she felt her nose beginning to run, blindly she reached over for the small pack of tissues she’d purposely left in the passenger seat that morning. But when all she was greeted by was an empty packet, she accepted her fate and knew that her only other option was the sleeve of her blazer. With a crinkled brow -because yes, she knew this was disgusting, she briskly wiped her nose and purposefully avoided looking at her sleeve afterwards. Gross... 

The closer she got to home; the more Lena could feel her discomfort growing. She was freezing, yet her skin was slick and damp with sweat. Her nose was running again despite it being completely blocked and there was a faint pounding at the forefront of her head telling her that a migraine was well and truly on its way.  

She doesn’t want to cry, yet she felt her eyes burn with the familiar sensation anyway. Stubbornly ignoring the tickling sensation, the resolute tear had left in its wake, she pulled into her private parking space before turning off the car.  

With a heavy sigh that quickly developed into a disgustingly wet cough, she grabbed her things before exiting her car and made her way towards the front door of their shared home. She was immediately greeted with the sight of Kara lounged lazily on the couch, phone in her hand and feet propped up on the coffee table.  

“Hi baby,” she hears, but she couldn’t quite find it in her to return the sentiment as she dropped her things to the floor and kicked off her heels. Her chest was burning, her nose was dripping, and she was sweating so much - she felt absolutely repulsive.  

“Why are you late?” Kara continued, Lena hearing her set her phone down before rising to her feet.  

Lena rubbed at her temples as she finally allowed herself to break. “Because Kara, I have a company to run, now will you please stop talking!” She snaps, the tears in her eyes finally falling, “I'm apparently the only person in this whole fucking company who knows how to do their fucking job!” 

“Woah! I just asked if you were okay- I didn't-“ Kara began to stutter, utterly gobsmacked at her outburst. Never once had Lena ever snapped at her or sworn like that before. 

“Just stop!” Lena was beyond exhausted, and her tone came out hissed and aggressive. It hadn’t meant to be that way, not at all, but everything just seemed to catch up to her all at once, leading the sniffling CEO to drop to her knees and sob. 

Kara's concern immediately replaced any annoyance she might have felt at Lena's outburst. She rushed over to Lena, kneeling beside her and wrapping her arms around her shaking form, “You’re okay, you’re okay baby I promise.” She soothed in a hushed whisper, slowly rocking back and forth as she tried to calm down her girlfriend. 

Lena's sobs continued to wrack her fragile frame as Kara held her close, her own heart aching at the sight of her girlfriend in such distress. Lena's outburst had caught her off guard, but she knew that when someone bottled up their feelings (as Lena tended to do) they always find a way to break the seal and burst out. This wasn’t her fault. 

Lena's sobs gradually subsided into soft hiccups as Kara held her close, offering comfort and warmth. Her shoulders trembled as she sniffled weakly, and her eyes were now red and sore from crying. 

As they sat there, Lena body suddenly shivered with a sneeze that caught her by surprise. She desperately tried to turn away from Kara, but it was too late. Lena's eyes widened in horror as she realised what had just happened. 

"I- I didnt mean too- I-," Lena began to cry again as her voice caught in her throat, sending her into a deep spluttering cough. 

She expected her girlfriend to pull away, to grimace, gag and look at her in disgust. But she didn’t. Kara didn’t even flinch, instead she kept a hold of her, running a gentle arm around her waist, pulling Lena in closer again, continuing to slowly rock back and forth, an action which steadily calmed the fever fuelled distress coursing through her body. 

“Alright my love, let’s get you out of these damp clothes, okay? And then we’ll get you some medicine.” Kara murmured after a few moments, pulling Lena slightly away from her so she could tenderly cup her cheeks to rid them of tears. As gross as it was, she even uses the sleeve of her own shirt to gently wipe the mess gathered above her cupid's brow before placing a soft kiss to the spot just between her eyebrows. 

Lena couldn’t even find it in her to be grossed out by her girlfriends' actions, tired eyes drooping in pure exhaustion. She did no more than nod her head as she leant into Kara’s touch, allowing the gentle ministrations to momentarily sooth her.  

Without a word, Kara rose to her feet bringing Lena with her, looping her arms beneath her backside before taking slow, careful steps towards their bedroom. She could feel that Lena was a complete dead weight in her arms, and she silently thanked her super strength that was easily supporting her before she carefully placed Lena down onto the small amount of counter space between their sinks.  

Taking residence in the space between her parted legs to keep her unsteady body upright, Kara reached over for the tissues they kept on the small bathroom shelf and pulled two out of the box. Lena doesn’t make a peep as she was prompted to blow her nose, and Kara knew then and there, as she flushed the soiled tissue and washes her hands that her girlfriend was well and truly sick. 

Lena was extremely stubborn and had been since they had first started dating, and no amount of persuasion from Kara had ever convinced her it was okay to let her be vulnerable.  

With a concerned frown, she reached up for the buttons of the blazer and makes quick work of unbuttoning them.  

“Sit up for a second baby.” She prompted, and Lena sniffles quietly as she complies and allowed her suit jacket to be pulled off. Her shirt beneath was saturated with sweat, and she feels herself wanting to sob all over again when she realises just how disgusting she must look.  

“No no, none of that.” Kara’s voice brings her out of her thoughts as she untucked said shirt out of her slacks and begins unbuttoning it, Lena met her gaze with a guilty look, eyes damp once again shiny with tears that were threatening to fall.  

Kara smiled knowingly as she finally as she undid the last button and helped guide Lena’s arms out of it, before tossing it into the laundry basket along with the blazer.  

“I’m so disgusting right now.” Came the small almost inaudible whisper. 

“I could never, ever find you disgusting,” Kara momentarily paused amidst her task of helping Lena undress and instead reached forward to cup her cheeks. She tenderly trailed the pads of her thumbs over her girlfriend’s warm, flushed skin, her heart melting when Lena instinctively seemed to lean into her touch. “You’re beautiful. Sick, or not, and don’t let me hear you say otherwise.” 

“Can I?” Kara rubbed Lena’s knee and pulled on the slick fabric, asking for her permission, to which the Luthor nodded weakly, and Kara slowly unbutton her pants before gently pulling them off. An action which revealing damp, clammy skin beneath a sharp contrast to way Lena was currently shivering, a clear sign of her fever. 

“Let me check that temperature of yours darling.” Kara murmured as she moved to the small cabinet above the sink, retrieving a digital thermometer. She turned it on and waited for it to beep, indicating it was ready to use. With care, she moved closer to Lena, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before gently inserting the thermometer into Lena's mouth. 

"Keep it under your tongue, love," Kara instructed softly as Lena complied, “Sorry, I should really upgrade and get one of those new ear ones, but this’ll have to do for now.”  

The pair sat in silence for a minute or so, Kara watching the digital display anxiously as if her gaze would speed the device up somehow. When the thermometer beeped again, she was quick to remove it and read the temperature. 

“Oh baby.” There was a noticeable shift in Kara’s tone as sympathy smothered her words, “We need to bring this down a little sweetheart, I really don’t like how warm you are right now.” 

“Here, this might help," Kara whispered, her fingers brushing Lena's cheek with a delicate touch before she reached over to take the washcloth sitting on the counter. She ran it under the cold water to cool it down before gently wiping Lena's forehead, the coolness offering a momentary relief from the feverish heat. 

“Kara, you don’t have to do this.” Lena mumbled, her words a little slurred - whether from her fever or just plain exhaustion was up to anyone's guess. 

Kara simply shook her head at the self-deprecating attitude of her girlfriend as she moves the washcloth down to feverish cheeks.  

“You’re right, I don’t.” She agreed as she takes Lena’s hand and gives it a soft squeeze, “but I want to, because I love you and I know you would do the same for me.” She knowingly adds, and Lena smiles slightly, just a soft quirk of her lips, proving Kara’s words to be correct.  

“Now, let’s get you some medicine,” Kara stated as she reclaimed her prior space between Lena’s now bare legs, giving one a loving squeeze as she pulled open the medicine cabinet door.  “Tylenol for that fever and cold medicine for your congestion.”  

Lena tried not to complain. Really. She did. But the thought of taking that putrid cold medicine had her wanting cry and before she knew it, her eyes once again burn with welled up tears.  

“Shh, I know,” Kara lovingly murmured as she fills the small cup with the allotted dose, “But it’ll help baby. You know that, yeah?” She offers it out, and whilst a tear does fall down still flushed cheeks, Lena allowed her to bring the cup to her lips.  

She swallowed with a small grimace and was quickly rewarded by a gentle peck to her nose. The Tylenol follows the same pattern, she gulped the water handed to her, the cold-water doing wonders on her aching throat.  

“Alright baby. Ready to head to bed?” Kara asked after slipping both medicines into her sweatpants pockets, placing her hands beneath Lena’s underarms in preparation to lift her should it be wanted.  

Lena sniffled wetly as she nodded her head, allowing Kara to lift her up into her arms just like she her earlier. With a fond smile, Kara placed a kiss to the sick woman’s shoulder before making her way into the bedroom and easing Lena down onto the end of the perfectly made bed.  

After a quick change of her underwear -bra excluded, Kara slipped a pyjama shirt over her head and coaxed her arms into the sleeves.  

“Pants, or no?” Kara asked as she reaches up to brush a damp strand of hair behind Lena’s ear, laughing softly when Lena immediately shakes her head with a disgruntled frown. “Okay baby, into bed you go.” She once again slips her hands under Lena’s arms and easily hoists her tired frame up the bed until her head meets the pillow. 

Lena leant back and nestled against the soft pillows, her overworked body feeling heavy and exhausted as Kara tucked her in gently, pulling the covers softly around her, making sure she was snug and warm beneath them. 

"Thank you, baby," Lena whispered quietly, her strained voice evident as her tired eyes looked up at Kara apologetically. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you earlier. You were just trying to help, and you really didn’t deserve that.” 

Kara's expression softened as she sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Lena's forehead. "Love, I promise you it's okay," Kara replied, her fingers gently brushing through her hair. "I know you’re not feeling very well right now. You had a really stressful day at work, we all have our moments. I'm not going to hold it against you, it’s already in the past and forgotten” 

Lena offered a faint, grateful smile, her eyes heavy with fatigue as she nuzzled against the blonde’s touch, “You're too good to me Kara,” she murmured quietly, trying to hide a sleepy yawn beneath the blankets, “Always there to help.” 

Kara's thumb brushed over Lena's cheek as she replies, "Well, that's what girlfriends are for, right? Taking care of each other." She pauses for a moment, looking deep into Lena's eyes. "Listen, I'm going to take a sick day tomorrow. I don’t want to leave you alone by yourself. We can stay in and just have a day in bed.” 

Lena's eyes widen with surprise and gratitude. "You don't have to do that, Kara. Your work-" 

Kara interrupts her with a tender smile. "You’re more important than any work could possibly ever be." She leant in to place a lingering kiss on Lena's lips, conveying all her love she ever needed in that one small, simple gesture. 

Lena's heart warmed a little at her words, "Thank you," she whispered again, letting her eyes slowly fall closed as the pull of sleep gently began to tug at her 

Kara eases herself under the covers beside Lena, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. "You don’t have to thank me sweetheart," she murmured, her lips brushing against Lena's temple. "Sleep now love, I'll be right here when you wake up." 

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[imreadydollparts]

A little salon talk

I'm working on some very special, very dirty ponies at the moment, and some things certainly haven't gone as planned.

I wanted to talk a little bit about how I have addressed those things and what I have used in the process.

One of the most stressful issues has been paint sliding off of these ponies. Some of them had mysterious yellow stuff on their bodies and where that yellow stuff was, the paint isn't sticking anymore.

For Rapunzel, I dabbed on Vallejo Premium Airbrush Color Matt Varnish with a cosmetic sponge and that stopped the paint rubbing off. It is a matte varnish so if you put enough layers the gloss of the paint will be hidden. Overall, Rapunzel got 3 layers: Two base layers to stop the paint coming off further and protect the vinyl from the paint I was going to add on top (red pigmented paints do tend to bleed into vinyl), and a third layer over top of the repair paint.

I'll talk more about Rapunzel when her individual post comes through the queue later. She's given me some trouble, that's for sure.

Another big problem was that they all reeked of mold as they were covered inside and out. Dance n Prance DJ was so sporey....

Normal washing and disinfecting did get rid of all of the living mold, but the smell persisted because vinyl does that with smells.

Regular smell reduction products and methods for fabric do not work on dolls and ponies because they're not fabric, they're a thick layer of bubbly, spongey plastic that loves smells and stains.

The only thing I found that helped mask the smell of the now-dead mold is L.A.'s Totally Awesome Cherry Blossom All Purpose pre-diluted spray.

A few times I've thought "L.A.'s should sponsor me because I use their products a lot in the salon..." but I don't think I'd actually want to be sponsored by any corporation because you're basically a paid actor at that point and have to say what they tell you to about the products. I don't want to do that. I prefer to say what I mean.

Anyway.

I already knew T.A. was ok for ponies (at least, ponies who's paint isn't falling off) from having used it quite a lot on my own ponies before putting it anywhere near someone else's.

This one has a light scent to it that isn't overwhelming and being a cleanser, I know that it's not just applying some scent to the vinyl but also working against any remaining mold which also helps reduce it's smell.

How I used this was to liberally spray the insides of the ponies' bodies and let it sit a few hours, then dump out the cleanser and rinse them well.

I WOULD have treated these ponies as though I were deflocking them and used a hot T.A. bath to really get into all of those little plastic pores, but with the paint sliding off of multiple ponies that wasn't an option.

It's not a 100% solution, and they do still have a bit of moldy smell to them which may become more prominent again as the cleanser's perfume wears off, but with a proper cleaning and T.A. Cherry Blossom treatments, they smell a hell of a lot better.

A couple of the ponies in this lot have some of the worst hair I have ever seen, not only in texture but in condition.

So dry.

Now, I am good at what I do, especially when it comes to smoothing out pony hair, but I'm having to wave the white flag on some of this hair.

This is the same pony's hair before and after (her tail is in another pony right now so I could work on it while the rest of Swirly Whirly is taking a long sun bath), and that's as good as I could get it.

It's so. dry.

Normally, Garnier Fructis Sleek and Shine conditioner does just fine on nylon hair but it couldn't reduce the dryness on this hair enough.

That hair above was conditioned and flat ironed five times. The only thing I will not do is flat iron dripping wet hair on super high heat because I don't want to short out my flat iron. The only thing I can't do is attempt steaming it. Steaming is an excellent way to smooth out synthetic hair, but I do not have a stand to hold dolls or ponies so that I could safely steam them without scalding myself.

I had to get out the Big Conditioner, which is kind of funny to say because it's actually very tiny and I only use it on dire doll hair for fear of running out.

This little bottle of After Color Mask came with a bleaching kit that I got on deep clearance just to get to try out some 40Vol cream before committing to buying a big bottle.

Swirly Whirly's tail is still visibly a mess, but it finally feels nice and soft.

If you dye or bleach your hair and get these little bottles of hair mask, hold on to them. They'll do amazing things when you get a doll or pony with unusually or stubbornly dry hair.

Now if only Garnier sold this in big tubs.

[lemonyinks]

Rokk and Lyle grieve in the wake of the outpost tradgedy

Rokk and Lyle oneshot

860 words

One of the last things Rokk remembered was the ships alarm blaring in his ears. It had been so loud and piercing that it rattled his bones and made it hard to even think among all of the noise and chaos. That and the fire. So much fire. It melted away at the metal structure and sent debris crashing down around him and his teammate as they tried to flee. The sweltering heat had been overwhelming, blistering, and scorching hot.

The ship had been collapsing around him, walls warping themselves into frightening curved shapes as the ceiling caving in on them. It was much like being buried alive; claustrophobic and panic inducing. He wasn’t even sure how he made it out alive in the end, but somehow, against all odds, he did.

His eyes snapped open and he forced his aching body to sit up before he even had a chance to take in his surroundings. He cried out in pain, pulse racing as he tried to climb to his feet. He had to make sure everyone was okay, he had to get out of here, he had to get everyone else out, he had to-

Hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved him down, gentle despite the forcefulness of the gesture. He blinked his crusty eyes a few times, willing the black dots swimming in his vision to dissipate, before a white ceiling came into focus, along with half of a bruised face with concerned eyes. He turned to properly look at the person who was sitting with him and found Lyle.

He was dressed in civilian clothes and looking worse for wear. Every bit of visible skin peeking out of his long sleeve shirt was speckled with deep, purpling bruises. His left eye was swollen and bloodshot, sutures pulling the eyelid down to hold a deep laceration shut, his lip split.

His hands, still holding Rokk’s shoulders’ gently, were wrapped up almost entirely in white bandages that were occasionally marred by spots of red. Worst of all though were the tears glistening in his red eyes, which foretold of tragedies Rokk wasn’t sure he was ready to hear, but would have to anyway.

“Stay down,” Lyle said as he pulled the blanket Rokk had evidently been laying under back up to cover his bandaged chest. His voice was raspy, whether from crying or as a side effect of all the smoke that had been flooding the outpost, Rokk didn’t know, “You have several broken ribs and a fractured femur. You could hurt yourself.”

“What-” He broke off into a cough, throat dry. Lyle helped him drink from a glass he hadn’t noticed from the bedside table before guiding him to lay back down. He tried again, “What happened?”

“You were hit by debris in the evacuation process and were pinned. Gates was the one who got you out.” Lyle said in a shaky voice. Rokk dreaded the answer to his next question, but he had to know, he just had to.

“What about the others? Garth, Imra?” When Lyle didn't reply immediately Rokk's heart sank. "Lyle, just tell me. What happened to them?"

His first friends, his best friends, the loves of his life. They had to be okay, because if they weren’t, what would he do? Despite all their fighting, they were some of the only people who made him feel like he was someone.

“They-They didn’t make it.” Lyle said after a moments hesitation, voice breaking. Rokk felt as though the world was crashing down around him. Tears flowed from from his eyes in an instant. “They’re gone, Cos. Garth, Imra, Tasmia, Jazmin, Jan, Jo, Drake, Gates, Candi, Reep, B-Brainy… They’re all gone.”

Lyle cried, tears cascading down his cheeks, relentless even as he scrubbed at them with the edge of his sleeve. Rokk’s own tears burned hot trails down his temples as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the inevitable outpour of grief.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

Lyle reach a hand out and interlaced his fingers with Rokk’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. It was a comforting gesture, the feeling of the scratchy bandage rubbing against his skin grounding in a way. Rokk squeezed back before choking on a sob. It burned, settling an ache deep in his chest. 

“They’re holding a funeral next week,” Lyle said through tears, “Brande pushed the date back. He wanted to make sure you would be able to attend.” 

“What are we going to do? What am I going to do?” Rokk asked in lieu of an answer. His voice was strangled as sobs freely fell from his lips.

“What we always do, Cos. We’ll carry on.” Lyle said, tone firm despite his endless tears.

Rokk couldn't find it in him to conjure up a response. Instead, he let himself cry harder as Lyle held his hand.

Soon they would have to be strong. Soon there would be no time for tears. Soon they would pick up the pieces of their losses and try to make the most of what they had left.

For now, though, Rokk would grieve.

[screechingkroh]

I just wanted to say I edited Chapter 13! I removed, reworked, and replaced some things in there. The full list of it all will be placed beneath the cut, but if you wanna go read it, you're more than welcome to. This is gonna help with chapter 14 and give me more wiggle room when I get back to writing it.

edits i've made -

- fixed some grammar mistakes (I probably missed some ngl)

- retconned the nightmare at the beginning. while you still get nightmares, you don't ever remember what it's about.

- reworked "You were anything but nonchalant about it. The discovery of a box with your name on it in the Flaming Foundry is sending you into a crisis. Is someone out there, right now, with your name and face? Are you living their life? Have you stolen something from them? You fucking exist here but not in the sense of you" - it now says "You were anything but nonchalant about it. Having discovered the box in the Flaming Foundry, you've been getting fits every night. Shit sleep schedule, worrying about if it was all a coincidence, or if you're wearing the face and the name of someone else. Something in you is hoping, screaming, it's a coincidence that someone has the same name as you. There are over a billion people on ythis planet, someone is bound to share the same name and face. It can't be impossible, can it?"

- reworked "When you stumbled upon it a few days back, you had bugged Red Son to read it. Traditional Mandarin had more strokes and more characters than simplified Mandarin. There were pronunciation and definition changes over time. Terminology, phrases, and vocabulary might have meant something different compared to the modern meaning. Sure, you can get a general idea of what it means by skimming over the words, but you were desperate. This box had scrolls that had your name. It was repeated constantly with an ever-changing tone." and "You didn’t get the reaction you liked when Red Son had shakily put the scroll back and quietly shoved you out of the foundry. His reaction haunts your dreams and is the trigger to the repeating nightmare of blood and fire." - now says "When the two of you stumbled upon it a few days ago, you asked for a translation. The writing on the box was Traditional Mandarin, which has more strokes and characters than the current simplified Mandarin. Not to mention pronunciation and definition changes over time. While you can read, write, and even talk in Mandarin, you only know the modern version of it. So, as one casually does with a friend who knows traditional and modern, you had all but bugged the shit out of Red Son." and "You didn't quite get a response as he huffed, shoved the box further into the mess of whatever-the-fuck-boxes, roughly handed you the new (very legal, very real) driver's licenses, and kicked you out of the area. T'was not a fun time for you."

- replaced "scroll" with "box"

- rewrote "But you aren’t, and you’re too scared to tell them. The dream– memory?– from when you had collapsed has somehow burnt itself into your brain. The feeling of heat from the fire echoes and lingers like a phantom touch. You vividly remember the feeling of sticky wet blood drying on your hands and Xuan-colored hanfu. An overwhelming need to vigorously wash your hands until they’re red from irritation overcoming your being." - now says "You aren't. You aren't okay. You aren't fine. You'll never be fine. Nothing will ever be fine! Not with the fits of hazy dreams that you could never remember. Not with the greedy claws of future-seeking demons— ones you created with your lies—peaking around every damn corner. Not with your knowledge, your awareness— everything! The awareness of what is to come stains your hands with thick carmine that drips off your hands. The awareness of the ones who never come out of these events alive.

You will never be okay."

- rewrote from ""Neither," you swat at him playfully..." to ""Wh-" Macaque chokes on his spit. "What?""

- replaced "He's flabbergasted, downright flustered" with "He was flattered, charmed, rizzed-up, and completely confused."

- replaced "The two of you burst out into laughter at the description" with "You snickered at the wrinkled-nose reaction at the description."

[mrbrrop]

God..

Okay, so I've trying to remember stuff for my second autism assessment appointment (AAA is a perfect acronym) and I was thinking about meltdowns specifically,

I just kinda used to think that I hadn't really had public meltdowns in my life, but then I remembered 5 SEPERATE VERY PUBLIC MELTDOWNS

1 in elementary school where I started crying and yelling and hitting my head against the wall because of the sparing uniform and the heat of the gym we were in for class

A second one in middle school where I was forced to do kayak and at the start of the class some duchebag put a bunch of water in my kayak when I was already on the verge of a meltdown from the fact that I had to stay drenched in a shirt and shorts for 1h30! Then we started the activity where we had to get from point A to B and I keep getting caught in the fucking plant spikes on the side of the canal so I just started fucking crying and yelling until a teacher finally fucking came so I yelled at them and they just got annoyed and left me (a 12 yo) alone in the fucking canal whilst everybody else moved on, so I yelled and cried some more unable to fucking move the fucking boat so I started hitting the boat, myself, and the plants (I very fucking angry) and at the end someone finally came to help me and I FINALLY got out and proceed to sit in the locker room not moving or changing until everyone left and a teacher had to threaten to lock me in there whilst they went back to school with the rest of the class (I had very awful teachers)

A 3rd one at my mom's house (My mom who swears up and down she doesn't think I'm autistic) when I was 15 (something like that) and I was so overwhelmed by my clothes that I went upstairs in my room and got in my underwear, threw myself down on the bed and started crying, how I usually handle my meltdowns : privately. But then my mom comes upstairs to talk about something (don't remember what) and she just starts to touch me and try to hug me whilst I beg fucking BEG her to stop and she doesn't so I have to kick her off of my bed with my feet. And later, when I had calmed down a bit, I ask my mom to close the blinds with as much words I can manage so like 3, she does and starts fucking talking and asking me questions and shit which I don't answer (Cause 1 I can't, and 2 I don't want to), so she gives up and leaves (finally)

A 4th one at the start of this year when I was in the psychward and I had to wear a hair net (I cannot handle having stuff one my head at all (I can't even wear headphones)) because of lice or whatever so I refused and offered to stay in my room, shave my head, anything really but they kept insisting to point where they pinned me to a wall and forced one on my head, which I took off immediately obviously, and then they gave up and left my crying in the hallway, where the only thing I could do was silently hit the floor as hard as I could.. and then 2h later a nurse came to open my room.. (fucking hospitals..)

And a 5th one, like a month ago, where I was in physics and I had missed a class so I didn't understand what we were supposed to do so I tried asking the teacher but he would look at me like I was an idiot and proceeded to explain nothing and then the groups for the project formed but since I had missed a class I didn't have a group and no one would explain to me what we were supposed to do, so I put my head in my arms on the table started crying silently, until I couldn't stay quiet so I left the class and went to the bathroom, the teacher just said to tell him if when I left the class. Then, at some point, the teacher goes looking for me and finds me in the dark bathroom next to the class, sat behind the door, he proceeds to have a one-sided "conversation" with me then concludes that I'm coming back to class (which wtf? Cause I didn't say shit and shook my head no when he asked). Then, a school staff person comes to seek me out, and they ask me to write what happened and open me an empty classroom where I can calm down. (The least awful one of the bunch)(and the teacher gave me a 0 because I didn't do the project when I was only in his class for 10min tops (he's an insane ass that everyone hates btw))

All that to say I do have public meltdowns but I usually do everything in my power to seclude myself before it gets really really bad BECAUSE people are dickheads with no notion of boundaries and respect, so they end up making the meltdown so much worse to the point where it's actually fucking dangerous!

Which explains why the few public meltdowns that I remember only happened when I could not escape the situation.