#like are you supposed to use the terminals on both sides????

[mushroom-through-the-stargate]

i really wanna know how the ancients turned off those communication stone terminals. i mean its HEAVILY implied that the reason the stones had so many different effects was because they were being used incorrectly and in sgu they pretty much mastered their tau'ri macgyver'd versions but i want to know how the lantean version was supposed to work. it very clearly was not supposed to be permanent and there had to be ways to turn it off, but how?????

[yuquinzel]

BLUE LOCK BOYS AS ROMANCE TROPES !

— feat ⨾ itoshi sae, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo.

— contents ⨾ fluff, angst.

ITOSHI SAE + second chance at love !

it's raw with desperation and fear and hope— the way sae's fingers are clutching the fabric of your shirt. it's wasn't supposed to be this way. he kisses the tears trailing down your cheeks, “you said it was over. you said it wasn't worth it. you said you didn't want—” you choke on your own words, hand closing in fists on your sides when sae mutters breathlessly, “i didn't mean it, never ever.” he says. something like guilt burns in his eyes, a taste of regret on his lips, uncertainty and impatience in his hastened breaths.

it's crazy, you think. the way he still has that effect he had on you years ago when you were both seventeen in the airport terminal, teary eyes and staggered breaths. when the fear that the distance would tear you apart first took over, and sae stopped believing. when you looked away from him for the first time and he didn't reach out to wipe your tears. it wasn't supposed to be this way. he was back after four years and you weren't supposed to be in his arms. you promised yourself you'd talk like old friends do, and he trusted himself that he wouldn't say anything to try and make you stay.

“i think it can work, you and me, us. just the two of us and it'll be enough.” you know these words have burned on his tongue for long, because they're warm on your lips. you're kissing him back like it's only natural to do so.“i'm already yours, always have been.” he murmurs.

ITOSHI RIN + childhood friends to lovers !

it's the warm and golden hues of the setting sun melting into the evening blues, splattered colours of contrast coming together— the mark of a newborn eve, the smell of wet earth after the first shower of spring and the cool caress of the breeze. rin is standing by the entrance gates to your school, leaning against the wall, head rested to the side as he waits for you.

you think you're caught in a trance. his back covers the remnants of the sunlight like the moon eclipsing the sun, casting shadows of orange glows. when he breathes, the shadows dance with him. he frowns in wait, and you catch up to him. when you smile, it's almost melancholy, “what's got you smiling like that?” rin eyes the solemn curve of your lips.

“hmm? i think it's ’cause i like you.” the words bleed from your voice in saccharine hues, in bittersweet whispers of unrequited love and fear that maybe you've ruined the carefully painted mosaic of years of knowing rin and the sea green gleam of his eyes, the quiet hums and smiles only you know, the knowledge that he doesn't know how to make paper planes, summer nights of horror movie marathons and trading ice creams.

rin parts his lips, eyes as wide as saucers. he sucks a breath in— searching for the second you say you're joking, “do you mean that?”

you nod and rin's arms swallow you whole, chests pressed so close your heartbeats sync and improvise as one.

“i like you too, really like you.” he breathes into your neck— lingers of relief and gratitude like he's breathing for the first time.

NAGI SEISHIRO + forced proximity !

past 2 am into the late hours of midnight blues and the heavy patters rain against the glass window, reduced to background noise because you're subconsciously trying to trace the steady pattern of nagi's breathing, eyes skimming the fall and rise of his chest every two seconds.

you've been awake since thunder rumbled the walls of your temporarily-shared bedroom for the first time tonight. some fun, memorable just-close-friends trip this is. perhaps it wasn't enough you had to share the bed with someone, maybe it's truly because that someone happened to be nagi seishiro that you can't sleep at all. you're conscious of every breath he takes, how his body expands and relaxes. the heat of your bodies melding as one like a blanket of second warmth over you. “you still awake?” you ask, low and soft. nagi hums, “mhm, if you still are.”

his voice is nothing but a breath of the comfort of not being alone, exhaustion from the day clawing at his throat. “you can sleep if you want.” you say, it's whispered into the night— a silent thank you because he's letting you know he's here as long as you want him, “i wanna stay like this.” he urges, bringing a hand to brush your hair behind your ear and you let him. you let him hook his arm around your waist, foreheads brushing lightly, breaths tangling in knots and lips seconds away from meeting. you watch the curve of his lips, how they move to form words, “i like this more.”

MIKAGE REO + fake relationship !

you think reo had always looked like midsummer nights adorned with princely smiles and bubbles of champagne in the glass, glitters of neon city lights against damp car windows, juvenile secrets traded as i love you's with the hope it lasts forever. ( it doesn't. )

it lingers in the way he kisses you these days— a small talk to fill in loud silences, pretense and improvised. you kiss him back— a lullaby of aching heartbreak, unrequited and young. it almost makes you forget about the blinding flashes of camera lights, hurrying to capture the moment mikage reo is seen with his partner.

it's just like he had asked you to, “date me” he'd said, missing the way your eyes lit up, “it doesn't have to be real, just enough so my parents stop setting me up for blind dates.”

“i don't think i can do this anymore.” your voice breaks, eyes refusing to meet his.

“what? why?—” he rushes close and you step back, “it's getting too real for me, i can't.”

he pauses— ponders your words, lets them replay in his mind over and over again, “...and you don't want that?” you do. so much that you said yes before thinking when he first proposed this, “what about you, reo? this... this means nothing to you right? none of th—”

“it does”, his voice is almost begging, “it means everything to me. you do. it's you and it's always been you.” he looks at you, wondering if he should continue. he does anyway, “it's real. i loved you every time i said it, every time i didn't say it. I'll say it again if you want me to—” and you hear it, like it's always been there, like it's all he's ever known, “— i love you, y/n.”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[artymcartist]

I CAN FINALLY POST THESE BC THEYRE BOTH DONE Genuinely fuck you Aiden why was coloring you so HARD

Ramblings that I promised on twitter

The world was flat when they spawned into it, he and Aiden were completely alone. They spent years creating the world together before Aiden started going haywire.

In their original timeline, Lukas and Aiden went through a blue portal they found while out adventuring and were erased from that timeline, becoming admins on the other side. That timeline completely collapsed in on itself.

Their memories of their old lives were wiped, but they retained their intelligence and personalities.

They developed a way to allow the world to continue generating in chunks outside of the areas they had already built, to simulate a seemingly endless world. They don't really explore these chunks and witness some of the errors [giggling bc of the 2 stray savanna trees we found in the jungle]. Aiden starts going haywire, Lukas notices but initially brushes it off. Eventually he goes too far and they battle, resulting in Lukas taking Aiden's powers and locking him in bedrock at the bottom of the world.

He's absolutely devastated to have to do this. His only friend, gone. He can't even bring himself to visit him down there. A command block periodically spawns food in for him down there.

The rift appears for the first time days after this event, caused by a glitch in the terminal space. A timeline where Romeo stays behind, where he's supposed to die. Lukas reaches in, feeling an immediate reaction, but pushes through and pulls Romeo into his world.

The reaction was his powers breaking, binding to his journal. He still maintains a fraction of them without the journal, but he must keep it on his person to be able to use them. Some things he completely lost, like the ability to fly and execute commands just by thinking them. He adopts an elytra after this.

[da-rulah]

"oh, and my love, did i mistake you as a sign from god?" from sleep token's the summoning >:33 could i rq cardinal copia?? sfw / nsfw idm just wherever your creativity takes u!! <33

This song gives me all the vibes. And for Cardinal Copia, this is what I got out of it. I'm sorry if it's not your thing but I couldn't think of anything else that fit this lyric better... This got a little kinky😈

NSFW 18+, MDNI! Cardinal Copia x f!reader

TW: dom/sub dynamic (f dom), dominatrix, control, power play, ropes/bondage, cum play, emotions and soft domination.

Copia's neck was starting to hurt, his head bowed down and staring at the stone floors of the chapel beneath his knees. His hands remained behind his back, arms tied from his elbows to his wrists in red shibari ropes.

But he knew he wasn't allowed to look up. Not yet.

He heard your heels on the stone, and naturally his body tensed in welcome anticipation. He'd waited patiently for you to come back to the chapel after stripping him down, tying his arms and instructing him to stay put while you'd gone to slip into something more comfortable. Of course, making him wait was all part of it; to make him uncomfortable, antsy, nervous.

You came to stand in front of him, stepping between his spread knees to make sure he could see the heels you'd put on. He'd be getting more acquainted with them soon...

He was already painfully hard, his mind racing as fast as his heart thinking of all the things you might do to him, that you'd done to him in the past. He could never get enough of you, like a drug he was terminally addicted to. You would be the death of him...

But this was his release. His job was so demanding, so stressful and he had to be the authoritarian he was crafted into as a Cardinal. All of that went out the window during playtime with you... He could let go, let someone else take charge for him and literally beat the tension out of him if that's what he needed. But there was a complication...

He was becoming too obsessed with you. You were the most beautiful woman in the world to him, the perfect mix of cruel dominatrix and soft lover. He kept finding excuses to be around you day to day, just to catch glimpses of you if that was all he could get. Other times, he'd specifically call for your assistance on a task, just to spend time with you. He knew this was purely transactional on both sides and yet, he was falling into a trap...

"You haven't moved, have you?" your voice sounded so assertive, particularly in the stone setting of the chapel - which you'd locked up for tonight so as not to be interrupted. This was a fantasy of his, to be overruled in the one place he was supposed to have the most command. Lucifer would certainly approve.

"No, ma'am," he confirmed, his voice quaking a little.

"Good." You lifted one of your feet, placing it flat onto his thigh and gently applying pressure with your stiletto hell. Copia winced, but his cock twitched between his legs, precum dripping to the stone floor.

And of course, you noticed.

"You're making a mess, Cardinal. Maybe you should clean that up, hm?" It was a rhetorical question, more of an order than a suggestion. And he knew how you worked by now. You stepped backwards and watched with a smirk as he shuffled backwards, dipping his body down without the use of his hands to keep him steady. His face hovered above the stone floor, his tongue darting out to lick at the mess like a cat lapping at a saucer full of milk.

You were very pleased with the Cardinal's progress from your first session together. He'd never been outright defiant, more like inexperienced. Not at sex - far from it - but at letting go, and understanding what you were asking of him without being direct. He'd come leaps and bounds since then.

"Such a good boy," you praised as he finished, still never looking up at you. You hadn't given him permission yet...

You stepped back a few paces, up the first step in front of the pulpit. "Come here."

He walked on his knees towards you, wincing at the pain and stopping short of the step, too awkward to lift his knees but he had a feeling you wanted him beneath you.

Slowly, you raised your heel again, this time lifting his chin with the toe and allowing him to look up at you. His eyes travelled the length of your leg, dreamily observing the stockings you wore for him, held up by suspenders that sat over a stunning black lace bodysuit. He took in every curve, slowly marvelling as saliva pooled in his mouth until finally, he looked up to see your stunning face, beautifully lit in the candlelight and framed by the incredibly intricate stained glass windows behind you.

You were like an oil painting, more beautiful than if Michelangelo himself had painted you. And with the backdrop behind you illustrating his fantasy playing out, it was sending him spiralling.

To him, you were a damn succubus... A demon sent for him and him alone to tempt and defile. He'd allow you anything you wanted from him, follow any command.

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn..." You straightened up at the sound of his voice, glaring down at him. You hadn't given him permission to speak, nor asked him a question that warranted an answer. But you were intrigued...

He'd never spoke out of turn before and frankly, you were curious to see what was so important that he must tell you and suffer the consequences of disobedience.

"You have never look so bewitching... I-I'm all yours, body and soul."

Your eyes widened, taken aback completely. Of all the things you expected, that absolutely was not one of them. You had no smart retort, nothing to say in response at all. Instead, you did something you had never done before, crossing a boundary you set when terms were agreed upon on day one.

You crouched in front of him, meeting his eyes. You could see the fear in them, almost regret as he swallowed his fear and readied himself for the inevitable punishment for speaking without permission. But instead, you moved some of his hair away from his face with gentle touches, then tilted his chin up a little to make it easier to plant your lips to his.

Kissing was a big no-no. You shouldn't have done it, but you felt so drawn to him, compelled to give him a part of you like he just had.

He didn't hesitate to kiss you back, quickly overcoming his shock in favour of savouring something he was sure you would probably never do again. It ignited something within you, a fire raging in your body. You couldn't help escalating it, your kisses turning desperate. Copia wanted nothing more than to hold you close to him, to pull you into him and take you on the chapel floor with an equal balance of power; even if it were just for one night...

But his hands were still tied, and you had a scene to play out. He was sure you'd snap out of it soon and punish him harder than you ever had. Perhaps you'd call this whole thing off, and he'd never get to be with you again. The thought terrified him.

You pulled back from the kiss, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and forehead pressed to his. You sighed, twirling your fingertips in the locks of hair at the nape of his neck. It was growing out - you liked that.

"Copia..." you breathed, chuckling softly at the absurdity of the situation you found yourself in. Feelings were never supposed to factor into this, but you'd be lying if you tried to tell yourself there wasn't something there. "We should talk," you whispered, finally meeting his eyes.

"Maybe another time, when I'm not kneeling at your feet with my arms tied behind me?" he laughed quietly, shy and unsure of himself.

"Oh, of course..." you moved to untie the ropes behind him, but eh stopped you. "N-no... Please," he begged, "I need this. I-I... don't want you to stop."

You stopped fiddling with the knot, resting your palms on his shoulders and searching his face for any sign that he wasn't sure about this. But there was nothing but pleading; he still wanted this, and so did you. This was as much of a release for you as it was for him. There was plenty of time to talk later.

"Whatever you need," you curled your finger under his chin, lightly tilting it up as a gentle re-introduction into the scene. "Now... do not speak again until you are asked to. Understand?"

He nodded, knowing better than to verbally respond.

The scene in the Chapel continued, but neither of you could deny the little extra softness in your dominance that night. You were more careful with him, less brutal. Still lording over him as he wished, still assertive and clearly in power.

But your harsh persona had turned into something softer, slower in every move you made. Copia couldn't help but be even more in awe of you, watching you take control of him in such a delicate way that felt more fuelled by passion than anything you'd ever done together before.

He was more sure now than ever that you had been moulded in the image of the darkest, most beautiful goddess.

[drabblesandimagines]

Code Pizza

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Established relationship, fluff 1,531 words

“Can’t you go any faster?” The barrel of a gun is pressed against the already tender spot from where they’d oh-so-kindly whacked you round the head earlier and you wince, losing the slight flow you’d managed to build up on the keyboard – Leon’s words echoing around your head.

“Promise me you won’t ever do any of that self-sacrificing bullshit,” he’d mumbled in your ear, arms wrapped around you in bed. He’d got back from a mission that afternoon – been awful quiet about what it had entailed, what had happened and you hadn’t pressed.

“Me?”

“Mm. Like, if… If someone’s forcing you to do something – do it, we’ll sort out the mess later. You make sure you’re home and alive at the end of the day.” His voice sounded almost strained. “Just promise me, sweetpea.”

“I promise.”

Not exactly sure if this scenario was exactly what Leon had had in mind, but there’s a gun and a threat, so you’re typing… or at least attempting to.

“She’d be faster if you’d untied her hands.” Hunnigan grumbled from behind, seated in an office chair with her hands zip-tied behind her back. Yours are bound in front of you, keeping your wrists crossed, and essentially cutting one hand out of action entirely.

“Is that true?” Your minder – A, you decide to call him - leans forward into your peripheral vision, though his face is obscured by a ski mask – as is his companion’s – B - standing over Hunnigan. They’re geared up to the nines, spare ammo dangling off tactical belts, part of a larger operation in order to gain access to DSO HQ and you, apparently. The doors are locked down due to the emergency protocol, though the HQ works on a skeleton crew at the weekend so it’s possible that no-one even knows you and Hunnigan are in.

“100 words per minute at my best.” You shrug, eyes skimming over the code you’ve managed to get through so far. “I’m probably working at… 15 and less. So, yeah, it would be faster.”

“Nice try.” B states. “You’re writing code, not a novel.”

“Novel, no. Poetry, maybe...” You trail off. It would be a lot easier if you did have both of your hands, weren’t being held at gunpoint and not suffering from a raging headache.

You weren’t even supposed to be working, it being a Sunday. You’d been in yesterday working overtime on a project, but this morning had been spent catching up on dull chores around the house – laundry, going to the store, cleaning - and then the plan had been an afternoon of video games on the sofa, ordering a pizza for dinner, accompanied by a bottle of wine. Leon had been away a couple of days on a need-to-know basis and you didn’t have a date of when he’d be back, though he did always try and give you a couple of hours’ heads up on his impending arrival.

Early afternoon, just as you’d sat down, controller in hand, you’d got a call. Not from your boyfriend, however, but from one Ingrid Hunnigan, extremely apologetic but there had been urgent developments – vague, as always – and she needed you in ASAP. You’d agreed, couldn’t really refuse her, but you’d decided in a slight show of protest you weren’t getting changed into your more professional work wardrobe. If it truly was an emergency, they’d have to deal with you in your jeans and t-shirt…

..which had led to the nasty bruise on your temple when the intruders had burst in, taking you as a civilian to be subdued. When you came to, hands now bound, head thudding, fingers being snapped in front of your face to get your attention, you were wheeled in front of the computer terminal and given your objective.

“It’s faster in the movies.” A comments, waving the gun lazily now at least.

“We’re not in the movies.” You grumble back, irritated. “I’m writing a bespoke code to get into this system.”

B comes to stand at your side, then. “Well, our contact promised us that you were some sort of genius at this sort of stuff.”

“Maybe when I’m not concuss-” You’re cut off by him slamming his fist on the desk besides you, making you jump and your heart pound.

“Enough lip, enough excuses. Concentrate.”

You shuffle in the seat, repositioning your hands and continue on with what’s been demanded of you, Leon’s words echoing in your mind.

Your phone emits a jingle from your pocket – speak of the devil…

“What’s that?” B demands, looking around.

“It’s my phone – just a text.”

“You were meant to search her, you idiot.” B chides his companion. “Where is it?”

“Jacket pocket.” It chimes again.

“Someone’s popular.” You bite your tongue as he crouches down besides you, placing a hand unnecessarily on your thigh as he dips his hand in your pocket, fishing it out. “Who’s LSK?”

“My boyfriend.” You don’t need to turn to know Hunnigan’s trying to hold in a grin.

“Says he’s on his way home, wants to know if you’re there.”

“Can you tell him I’m working late and he should order pizza for dinner? I haven’t been grocery shopping yet and I was meant to.”

“I’m not your secretary,” B scoffs.

The phone chimes again. You’d set Leon’s messages to that obnoxious sound to be sure you heard it, not wanting to miss a chance to text with him whilst he was away. If he had time on his hands, his texts often turned to stream of consciousness until he got a reply.

“You ignoring me, sweetpea? God, he’s a bit needy, isn’t he?”

“He’ll just keep doing it unless I text back,” you pause in your typing, “Or I can do it…”

“Ah-ah, keep working.” B replies, tapping at your phone’s keyboard.

It chimes again and B sighs.

“He wants to know what you want.”

“Er…” You hesitate a moment, pretending to doublecheck a string value. “Veggie. Extra jalapenos.”

He taps again and sends, before placing your phone down on the desk out of reach. His hand squeezes your shoulder and he leans in. “Keep coding like a good girl, and we’ll make sure you get home for that pizza.”

--

You don’t know how he managed it with the protocols in place – surely it means there’ll be another security review - but a mere 45 minutes later after ordering your pizza, Leon comes crashing down from the ceiling, taking out A and B with single, effective shots in the chest as he does.

He forward rolls out of the impact and gets to his feet with a flourish.

“Sorry for the wait, ladies, pizza’s free since it wasn’t 30 minutes or less.” He grins, heading to Hunnigan first and cutting through her restraints.

“Do I even want to ask?” Hunnigan quirks an eyebrow, rubbing her wrists. Leon walks over to you next, crouching down in front of you and cutting your wrists free. “Wait, extra jalapenos?”

“Bingo.” You reply, though unable to tear your eyes away from Leon – he looks tired, not unusual after returning from a mission, in need of a shave. He cups your face, fingers gently brushing over the tender spot on your temple to assess the damage. “It’s a dumb code, we know.”

“No, it obviously worked. Good thinking.” Hunnigan nods, getting to her feet and approaching another terminal, sliding in her keycard to overrule the emergency controls and release the doors. “I need to call this all in – get it tidied up. Did you gain access?”

“No, couple of lines away, though.” You look at the lines of code on the screen. “I did spend a lot of time to make sure it had a real nice interface for when I ran it, for extra pizazz.”

“Good work – both of you.” Hunnigan turns to face Leon directly then, “Make sure you keep an eye on her - took quite a hit.”

“I will. Thanks, Hunnigan.” He remains crouched at your feet, your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Good. And don’t come into tomorrow – either of you. I’ll deal with… this.” She strides out with purpose, shoulders back, nothing alluding to the fact that she was a woman who’s been held hostage for the past however many hours.

“You good, sweetheart?”

You smile, staring deep into those blue eyes you adore. “I’m good. You?”

“Won’t lie, not quite the homecoming I expected. Come here.” He pulls you up out of the chair and against his chest, wraps his arms around you and kisses you frantically, though you know it’s in relief.

“Had me worried with those jalapenos,” Leon admits, softly.

“I kept my promise.”

“Mm, not quite.” He pulls back and grins – you know that grin – but you still let out a squeal as he hooks an arm under your legs and picks you up in his arms.

“Leon, I can-“

“Nah, your promise isn’t kept and my mission isn’t over till you’re home. Allow me to give you the full hero experience.”

You roll your eyes, before pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Fine. But we’re still getting pizza.”

“Took the words outta my mouth, sweetpea.”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic prompt is a Hospital AU

(503 words.)

CW: Cancer

"Moony!" Sirius shoves the door open with a grin, trying not to flinch at how small Remus looks in the bed today. Remus offers him a sleep filled smile, shifting his weight until he's sitting up. "Check this out." With that, he triumphantly drops a leaflet onto Remus' lap.

Remus picks it up, eyes roving over the page.

"A medical trial," Remus says, and Sirius is so excited he doesn't even notice the trepidation wavering in Remus' voice.

"Yeah! It's actually really fascinating. It's a combination of new medications alongside chemotherapy-"

"Sirius." His voice is quiet, practically inaudible, but Sirius isn't finished.

"It also makes use of a natural environment environment to try to-"

"Sirius," He says firmly.

"Remus, you don't get it." He looks up at Remus with shining eyes, gesturing to the leaflet. "People are going in terminal and coming out perfectly healthy."

"I do get it, Sirius. Let me guess," He sets the leaflet down without opening it, "they're calling it the first real breakthrough in years? That it'll revolutionise cancer care? It almost seems to be a miracle treatment?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they are." He doesn't really see Remus' point.

"Love, I've been a part of countless trials. They all say the same thing, but I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You never know, though. This could be the one!" Sirius tries.

"You know, this is why they took you off my case," Remus says with a smile, reaching out and tangling their fingers together. "You got attached. Isn't that, like, the one thing interns aren't supposed to do?" Sirius huffs an empty laugh, looking at the abandoned leaflet. "Sirius, look at me."

Sirius lifts his head, eyes meeting Remus'. There's an intensity in them that Sirius wasn't expecting, slightly taken aback. His face is gaunt, exhausted by the constant treatment.

"You're beautiful," Sirius says softly, squeezing Remus, hand.

"I'm going to die, Sirius," Remus answers simply, gently.

"No. No, you-"

"Yes, I am. We both knew that going in, my love. You don't have to stay and watch that happen, really you don't, but you- you can't fix this. Nobody can."

For some reason, this is when it finally hits Sirius. Everything that he's been trying to do, the conversations that they've been having. It all finally sinks in.

The tears come with it, breaking down before he has a chance to say anything back. He can barely even register the way Remus tugs at his hand, pulling him onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Sirius. The moment arms are around him, warm and comfortable and safe, he curls up into Remus' side and sobs. He cries until he can't breathe, can't think, can't even cry anymore. He's grieving the life he could have gotten with the man holding him through it.

If only they had met under better circumstances. Like normal people, through friends, or at a party. That way, he'd get to watch as Remus grew old, grown right alongside him.

He fucking hates the universe.

[no-where-new-hero]

omg I need your thoughts on the terminally o line author culture bc ngl it makes my eye TWITCH, there are authors I deliberately avoid even tho I've heard their stuff is good bc they're like that 🙈

HHHHH oh good lord, okay, from how I see it, there are two angles on this, both aggravating and sad: the official decree one and the spontaneous ecosystem one.

The officious one is that the nature of publishing nowadays demands an author have an online presence. You need Twitter/X. You need to let every potential reader know your book is coming out. You need engagement through reviews and pre-orders incentives (if you buy now you’ll get a special keychain!!) and word of mouth assurances from your peers that yes your book is as cool as you say it is. You need a newsletter with links (more buying! more voting on lists that are simply popularity contests!) and promises you’re still working on the next thing, don’t forget about me in the morass of everyone else doing the same thing. You need an Instagram and TikTok now to post pretty pictures and videos because one or two authors made it big off this kind of promotion and now everyone thinks it’s the ticket to the bestseller list (sadly, it seems to be working). You need an OnlyFans (a joke but I do recall a twt spat that was a joke/not joke about how rupi kaur will always be more beautiful than her critics and people who took issue with the conflation of beauty with talent). At the end of all this, you’re basically an influencer, a content creator creating content for the content you should be focusing on creating, the finished novel. And the novel itself seems to be disappearing behind the masks used to promote it (fanfic-style tropes, moodboards, playlists, memes) until I now no longer trust the book that I’ll pick up to have any resemblance to the enticements that brought me here. I’ve seen an author or two complain about the stress all this self-promotion generates, but it’s become such an entrenched part of the industry, I think people just accept it. And thus spend too much time online hoping that if they tweet just a little more, produce just one more reel, maybe that’ll be the difference between a sale and no sale.

The other side of this, distinct but obviously connected, is the ecosystem created by this panic of being perpetually visible coupled with the fact that so many of the new authors came of age during the rise of internet fandom culture. That opinionated community mindset that blurs the line between anonymity and friendship is the lens they bring to their own work. I mean, it makes sense I suppose—if you love yelling about characters and words, why wouldn’t you do that once you start to produce your own? This really came home to me hearing about that reviewbombgate “scandal” and how people involved were in reylo circles and that was used to provide receipts. You’re interacting with your readers and peers about your intimate work but they are also all strangers. They will not always give you the benefit of the doubt, and now—as opposed to the past when maybe the worst that could happen was a handful of bad reviews in newspapers—you will either be tagged in hate reviews, sub-tweeted, explicitly called out, demanded to atone for your sins. It’s no longer the morality of consumption but the morality of production. Of course, the easy answer is just log-off, touch some grass. But that can work only when you and everyone else are separated by anonymous accounts or when you have no platform to maintain. As an author trying to make your livelihood from this, suddenly it’s do or die. We’re in a strange moment of authorship bringing the Internet’s echo-chamber and claustrophobic into the real world (this is a lie: publishing now is no longer the real world. But it looks like it) and thus you can kind of no longer escape things.

Will the average reader who isn’t aware of all these machinations care about reviewbombgate? Would a reader browsing at Target think about the controversies around Lightlark? Very likely not. But the impression I’m getting more and more is that the average reader isn’t the one buying all the books. Or shall we say—a bestseller’s status relies on bookstore stock. Bookstore stock is only huge when they know a book will be a good investment. They’ll only know a book is a good investment if it and its author has street cred based on booktokkers, bookstagram, bloggers and reviewers (have you noticed how many books out these last maybe 1-3 years have these kinds of accounts thanked in the acknowledgments? Yeah), and THESE are also chronically online people who will Know. And decide the cast of fate.

Honestly, @batrachised, I see why you avoid these kinds of writers, though I wonder how long it’ll be before the disease becomes epidemic.

[l0viia]

DOUMA X HUMAN!FEMALE!READER 18+!!!

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

*SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI*

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

“Remember. Keep your mouths shut and sit still. If any of you disobey my orders I’ll kill you on the spot do you understand?”

“Yes sir” our voices echoed together. I placed my hands neatly on my lap and took a deep breath in. Glancing around the area I viewed the other women here with me.

Sitting in a perfect circle on the grass we faced eachother, all of us dressed in soft colors with our hair down and makeup pressed on lightly.

We are the potential sacrificial brides of a supposed demon. Rumor has it that 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 is collecting women for his concubine in exchange for large sums of money. And this town needs that kind of money to survive the winter.

Although I feel sorry for these girls for being betrayed like this by their “friends and family”, I felt at ease as I knew none of them were going to be taken.

For two months I’ve been tracking this case. Although I haven’t seen that demon himself I knew exactly what kind of women he preferred.

So I asked the victims families about the personalities of the girls and all of them were soft spoken and easy to persuade.

At first this was nothing more than a report. But soon enough I was assigned to terminate this demon as the number of taken women started to grow rapidly.

My mentor Shinobu spent countless days training me to withstand different poisons incase I ran into trouble along the way and ended up getting killed by my target. At least with my sacrifice I could still save these girls.

With that thought I clenched my fists and took in the faces of all these girls. 24. Besides myself 24 young women were being treated as livestock. They were all scared, terrified even. The threat of their lives was at stake no matter if they stayed or fought against their own people.

Taking a few breaths I allow myself to calm down as I remembered what my priorities were. After I finish killing that demon I’ll return all the girls to their families and deal with the men responsible separately.

The sound of bells rung loudly throughout the village signaling the arrival of our guest. Snapping into character I hung my head down shyly and let my hands tremble in my lap.

His footsteps were heavy and a few of the girls shifted uncomfortably. I heard one of the girls sniffle and I immediately snap my head in her direction.

She met my gaze, eyes filled with tears and body shaking violently. She was young, Barley 17 if I remember correctly. She was the youngest out of us all and my biggest threat when it came to this mission.

Everything about her screamed innocence and on-top of that she was incredibly kind. When I first arrived here she was the one who housed me. Both of her parent died when she was younger so she had an available room to spare.

For two months she cooked my meals and showed me all her favorite things in the village. She always talked about her parents, especially her mother. She said she was named after the flowers her father gave her mother when proposing to her. She’s truly an angel.

My eyes widen as sobs left her mouth and I shook my head trying to get her to quiet down. She squeezed her eyes shut letting her cries echo around us.

“What did I tell you?! You ungrateful brat!” The man in charge of the trade kicked the back of her head making her fall to the side.

I resisted the urge to stand up as I watched him repeatedly kick her in the head. Her cries became louder and louder as she tried to crawl away from the man.

I dug my nails into my hands and closed my eyes, trying to remember what was at stake here. This could very much risk the safety of all those girls if I acted now.

Her screams continued on for another minute or so before suddenly stopping.

“How noisy” the blood in my veins ran cold as a heavy presence suffocated the air around me.

Eerie silence engulfed us all and I clenched my jaw in anger. Lifting my head I opened my eyes to look at the unavoidable. There she laid, beautiful head severed from her body.

As I tried to regulate my breathing I snapped my head back at the floor. ‘If they saw the angry expression right now I would risk the safety of this mission. What’s done is done I need to focus. ‘

All of my reasonings went unnoticed in my heart as I fought the urge to attack that demon. ‘Think Y/n. You need to stop’

I took a few deep breaths and tried to do the only thing I knew would work in my favor and let a few tears run down my face, silently crying.

“I’m so sorry sir!! Please excuse us for this inconvenience!” I scowled internally as the man from the village laughed off the dead girl and started to introduce the girls one by one.

When they got to the section where the girl laid dead I watched as he stepped over her corpse without a care in the world.

“Sorry about this again!! That brat just doesn’t appreciate the opportunity she was given! I swear some women just-“

“Iris.” My voice was low but clear enough to be heard. Silence rang throughout the group before I heard the demon laugh lightly.

Upset that I cut him off the ‘boss’ of us girls stomped over to me before hovering his body over mine clearly trying to intimidate me.

Letting a few more tears run down my face I met his gaze. “Her name is Iris. Not ‘brat’ or ‘some woman’. You just killed an innocent woman sir. She was nothing more than a child who was scared.”

Although I was upset, my act was completely fake. The man in front of me seemed to be shaking with anger but he wasn’t my target. That demon is and by the look of things I got his attention.

“What’s with you pieces of shit thinking you can talk to your superiors this way?!” His hand drew back and I played my part by squeezing my eyes shut and flinching.

Expecting to get hit I waited,but the impact never came. “Now now I think that’s enough for tonight” I opened my eyes and finally took in the appearance of this demon.

Blonde hair and tall he stood confidently but relaxed as he gripped the man’s arm tightly. “Y-yes sir! Sorry about that!” Dropping his arm the demon turned around to face me.

His eyes glowed in many colors as he stared at me before he crouched down to my position on the ground. ’upper two’ I paled and shook lightly, finally realizing the amount of danger I was actually in .

“Hi there beautiful~ my name is Douma what’s yours?” He asked with an excited smile.

Shyly I looked away before answering softly. “Y/N sir” laughing loudly he placed his hand on top of my head stroking in lightly.

“We don’t have to be so formal with each-other Y/n! Please just Douma is fine. After all you are my little bride to be!”

At his words my head snapped up quickly as he stood back up from the ground. Offering me a hand he helped me to my feet before quickly lifting me off my feet.

Hugging me to his chest I laid there obediently hanging onto him “Hm~” humming in content he started walking away from the small village before the man yelled out.

“HEY!WHAT ABOUT THE MONEY YOU PROMISED??!” Laughing Douma continued on without a care in the world. The shouts were drawn out after a couple of minutes and yet again the atmosphere was quiet.

Passing by a few more trees we reached what looked like a small cottage. Opening the door he led us inside before shutting the door.

Still holding me in his arms he walked to a small room with nothing more than a bed and some blankets. Sitting us down he held me on his lap and gently stroked the skin on my leg with his thumb.

“So how long have you been training to be a hashira beautiful~” my entire body stiffened and my breath got caught in my throat.

‘Lie’

“I’m sorry?” My voice came out in a confused tone as I furrowed my eyebrows. Smiling down at me he flipped my body around laying me across his lap.

My face flushed and I struggled against his hold when I felt the cold night air hit ass. Hiking my skirt up he stroked my soft skin causing me to hide my face in embarrassment. Out of all the training my mentor could have given me nothing could have prepared me for this.

“I heard a rumor that I had become a target of a possible ambush so I went to go investigate a little. Who would have thought the supposed threat of my life came from such a pretty little thing” laughing, he removed the clothing protecting the rest of my skin.

I hid my face as he continued to say things about how noticeable and cute I was trying to secretly tail him. After tracing his hands in between my thighs he moved his hand up and gently stroked in between my folds.

I flinched and stifled any noises that almost came out as he slipped his fingers up towards my clit and teased me. “You’re being so obedient for me Y/n. Don’t worry I’ll make you feel good” with that he dipped his slender fingers.

I gasped while trying to pull away from him and he shifted our position quickly making it harder for me to move. With my body completely face down on the mattress he hovered over me and continued to pump his fingers into me.

Clenching my teeth I bit back the noises building up in my throat as I felt myself getting needier from his touch.

“You know I can smell your arousal Y/N you shouldn’t try to hide it from me like that~” as much as I wanted to argue with him, he was right. My body just responded to him so well and it wanted nothing more then to let this man use me as he was.

He curled his fingers causing me to accidentally let out a moan. Quickly closing my mouth I put my head down in embarrassment.

“Hm? I’m sorry but is this perhaps unpleasant for you little hashira?” Keeping his fingers at that angle he began to thrust them into me harshly. A string of curses fell out of my mouth as I tried to pull myself away from his fingers all to no avail.

Feeling that knot build up in my stomach I clenched down on his fingers desperately trying to hold it in.

“Oh?~” laughing at me Douma quickened his pace and I Involuntarily moaned loudly while cumming around his hand. Giving me a few more pumps of his fingers he withdrew them causing me to relax against the bed.

“Good job baby~”

His praises went ignored as I laid there Panting while trying to catch my breath. Shifting on top of me I felt him press himself onto me from behind.

He drug his dick along my folds teasingly as I pressed myself back into him, my body begging for some kind of friction. In one quick motion he completely buried himself into me. “A-ah” quickly I bit back my moans, embarrassed at the sudden fullness of my body.

“Ahh this is no fun I want to see your face while you’re making those sounds” pulling out he flipped my body over and pressed himself back in between my legs. Glancing down at me he ripped open my top. Exposed and embarrassed my hand flew up to cover my face.

“There's no point in any of that when you're completely naked love” Grabbing my hands he removed them from my face and pressed his chest into mine. Attaching his lips to mine he forced his tongue into my mouth completely dominating me.

Lifting my legs up by my thighs he forced my knees to my chest as he aligned himself back at my entrance.

He pushed himself into me again, the new position causing me to involuntarily moan into his mouth. Pulling his mouth away from mine he stared at my face as he deepened his thrust. I tried to contain the noises I was producing but failing as he fucked into me.

“Does it feel good darling? It looks like it feels good~” letting my head fall back I became more vocal making him hum in approval.

My walls squeezed his length as he moved in me and my legs shook as I felt myself getting closer to orgasming again. Tightening his grip on my thighs his thrust became more violent.

“You’re doing so- Ngh so well” looking up I watched as Douma face scrunched up in pleasure.

Thrust after thrust he became more forceful and I became more needy. Dragging my nails down his back I let myself feel good.

“Please I need a-ah” I was a stuttering mess. With the embarrassment gone all I could do was beg for him to let me cum.

“Are you asking for permission princess??” Teasingly he slowed his pace causing me to arch against him and whine.

“Y-yes Douma please let me cum already” I felt pathetic as tears formed in my eyes before rolling down my face as I begged.

staring down at me he smirked proudly as he resumed his pace. Moaning,the knot in my stomach built quickly as I let myself cum.

Sobs wreaked my body as Douma became brutal with his thrust chasing his own high. His length hitting parts of me I’ve never felt before.

I laid there unable to move completely overstimulated and let Douma use me as he pleased. Groaning loudly he dug his nails into my skin drawing blood as he chased his own high.

His thrust became out of pace before he snapped his hips and released into me. Holding me in place he pumped me slowly making me take in all of his cum.

My vision fogged up as I felt my consciousness slipping. “Are you worn out already darling?” His words were spoken playfully and I felt myself nodding lightly.

“Mm~” words refused to come out of my mouth as I let myself close my eyes and rest my head head to the side comfortably. His laughs echoed throughout the building and I felt myself get lifted back onto his chest.

Resting my head on him I let myself start slipping into a deep sleep. “Alright princess I’ll let you rest for now. But when you wake up I get to have you all to myself again~”

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess - Volume 2

Part 4

Summary: Pregnancy & Birth 🤰

Warnings: profanity, pregnancy, birth, fears of pregnancy/birth related death

Chapter List

all banner credits on the masterlist

        Daryl paced anxiously around the room as you waited for the results. It had been four weeks since he irresponsibly came inside you, which you told him would probably be the bare minimum amount of time it took for a test to detect the pregnancy hormones.

        To make the situation even more stressful, he had to get you to Alexandria in order to get a test, which meant not only did he have to face the people he’d been avoiding for the past six years — but they also knew you might be pregnant. 

        It wasn’t too hot in the little room, but he was sweating bullets as his mud caked boots left little brown shapes all over the previously clean floor. His mind was racing with thoughts and scenarios. How was he supposed to be a father when he’d never had a good one himself? Would your pregnancy be safe and healthy? Would you survive delivery? 

        He’d have to pack up camp and move you both to one of the communities if the test was positive. He couldn’t make you live in the woods in that state. 

        Would you be mad at him? For doing this to you? Sure, it takes two to tango, but he didn’t mean to take it this far. Was it too late to ask for termination? Was that even possible anymore? Was he allowed to ask? What if you died? What if you—

         “Alright. I used two tests to be sure.” Siddiq announced as he stepped into the room, halting Daryl’s incessant pacing.

        “Well, what’d they say?” Daryl asked impatiently.

        “The first one was positive.” He informed you both. Daryls face seemed to drain of color. 

        “And the second one?” You asked.

        “Negative.” Siddiq sighed. 

        “Well what the hell does that mean?!” Daryl groaned. 

        “Could mean anything, really. I suggest coming back in a week and testing again.”

        So that’s what you did. A week later you were back, bladder full, ready to pee in a cup and hand it over. 

        When Siddiq came back into the room, he was grinning. You sighed. You knew what those kinds of grins meant.

        “Oh no.” You mumbled.

        “Oh yes.” Siddiq nodded. “Two positive tests. When did you say you believe you conceived?”

        “Five weeks ago.” You told him.

        “I’d like to see you every two weeks if that’s okay.”

        When you looked over at Daryl for his input he was frozen in place. He was pale and sweaty and his fists were balled up tightly at his sides. 

         “Two weeks is fine.” You smiled thinly at Siddiq before saying your goodbyes and dragging Daryl outside. “Stay with me, man. Are you okay?” You snapped your fingers in front of his distant eyes. He blinked at looked at you. 

        An overwhelming range of emotions was creeping in on him. He wanted to laugh and cry and scream, maybe throw a few punches while he was at it. He gulped and looked around at the bustle of Alexandrians going about their daily lives. Panic set in. He had to go. He had to get out of there.

        “C’mon.” He ordered as he grabbed your hand tightly and stormed toward the gates. 

        “Daryl, can you stop?” You complained as you dragged your feet. 

        “Jus’ c’mon.” He urged as he tugged you onward. 

        Outside the gates, once he’d gotten deep enough into the trees, he let go of your hand and began pacing back and forth. 

        “Daryl?” 

        “Just hold on!” He snapped. How could he process anything with you staring at him like that? He just needed a minute. 

        You sighed and turned away from him, finding a nice log to sit on while he walked himself through a meltdown. Eventually the stopped and stomped over to you. 

        “So what do we do?” He asked, surprisingly calm.

        “We… Go home?” You suggested. 

        “That’s it? You’re p—“ He stopped himself before he could say the word. No, saying it out loud would be too real. 

        “Pregnant? Yeah. I was there.” You blinked. “Are you gonna be okay? I mean with all this?”

        “I’m fine.” He snapped. “I just need to think. We need a plan.” 

        He shook his hands down at his sides and started pacing again. 

        “We have nine months to make a plan.” You assured him. 

        “That ain’t enough time!” 

        “It will be!” You argued. “We just have to—“

        “Have to what?! I ain’t never had no baby before! I don’t know how to be a father!” 

        “Well fuck, neither have I!” You shot back. “We can figure it out. Together.”

        Your outburst seems to calm him down some. Suddenly he was reminded that he wasn’t alone in his terror. 

        “‘M sorry.” He mumbled after he took a few breaths. 

        “It’s okay. Come on. Let’s get home.”

         That night at the camp, you didn’t have much of an appetite. Your nerves had really begun to set in. Pregnancy was a lot scarier in a world without hospitals and epidurals. When you were pregnant before, with Shane, it was scary, but you were able to trust the doctors and their equipment to do their respective parts. As much as you trusted Siddiq and Enid, you were terrified that they wouldn’t have the means to help you if you needed it. 

        “Not hungry?” He asked you as he picked and prodded at his own food.

         “Not really.” You shrugged, setting down the tin can you were eating from. He set his down too and nodded.

         “Me neither.” He admitted. 

         “Are you okay?” You asked him. He nodded again. 

         “I will be. I gotta be.” He assured not only you, but himself. 

        “You know, I’ve never carried a pregnancy to full term. I’ve only been pregnant that one time, and I told you what happened then.” 

        “It’ll be alright. Whatever happens. I’ll be here.” 

        Months went by before the two of you decided to move back to Alexandria. Your bump was showing and your ankles were always swollen. The morning sickness had finally subsided, at least. Still, you were uncomfortable a majority of the time. 

        Judith and RJ often hung around you and Daryl. Judith was excited for a baby. It was strange to gush over baby names with a girl who you knew when she was an infant. Even stranger gushing over baby names with a girl who was fathered by your ex and birthed by his mistress.

          Still, you liked her. She was sweet and smart and didn’t take any shit. You enjoyed her company more often than not. 

        “What about Lilly?” She thought. 

        “Eh. Too plain.” You shook your head.

        “Dang. I’m out of names.” She groaned. 

        “What about Dahlia?” Daryl asked from the other couch, where he’d been sharpening arrows through out the conversation. He surprised you. You didn’t think he was tuned in at all.

        “Dahlia.” You repeated. You liked the sound of it.

        “Where’d you hear that?” Judith asked.

        “Dunno.” He shrugged. “A movie, I think. Always thought it had a nice ring to it.”

        “It’s pretty.” You agreed. “What if it’s a boy?”

        “Rufus!” Judith exclaimed with a giggle. You laughed and shook your head. 

          “Like the rat?” 

        “What rat?” Judith tilted her head. 

        “You’ve never seen Cinderella?” You asked.

        “No. But I’ve heard of it. She was a princess. Right?” 

        “Oh man.” You shook your head and looked over to Daryl, who only raised his eyebrows, clearly not on the same page. “We’re gonna have to find you some Disney movies, kiddo. The classics. Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty… Too many to remember.”

         “The Lion King.” Daryl added. 

         “Oh, that was the first one I watched when I was a kid. And Bambi!” You snapped your fingers as more memories of Disney movie nights flooded your mind.

         “Hell, we had Bambi for dinner the other night.” Daryl joked. You gasped.

         “Daryl!” You scoffed as you tossed a throw pillow at his head, which he swatted away before it could hit him. 

        The next time Daryl went on a run, he stopped at a little pawn shop and found some movies for Judith and RJ. Finding Nemo, The Lion King, a few princess movies, and a few he’d never heard of, but they seemed cool for a kid. 

        Every time Judith would watch one with her brother, she’d find you and gush about the Prince Charming or all the catchy songs she liked. You were glad to give her some reminiscence of a childhood. It gave you hope for your own child.

        One day, RJ asked you if you’d ever seen Shrek. 

        “Have I? It was one of my favorites.” You told him. 

        “I think it is my favorite.” He’d say with a grin. So, you’d watch it together sometimes, or whatever Judith put on. 

        Time seemed to fly by in those last months of pregnancy. You were pretty sure you slept at least half of it away. When your water broke and the contractions started, you were just as frantic as Daryl. 

        “W-what do I do?!” He’d ask, hands held out as if he didn’t know where to put them. 

        “Fuck if I know!” You’d whine between contractions and deep breaths. “Find Siddiq!”

        The labor was long and exhausting. Oh, and painful. You’d never experienced pain like that in your life. You blacked out at one point, right when the baby came. You honestly thought you had died for a moment.

        By that time, word had traveled to all your closest friends. Carol made sure to be there, and so did Judith. The guys, aside from Siddiq and Daryl, had to wait outside. 

        Daryl spent the whole time trying not to pass out, Carol at his side talking him through the process. He was the first to hold the baby. She was a girl.

        When you came to, he passed her to you immediately. You smiled down at the little thing you created, brushing your finger down the length of her little nose. 

        “Dahlia.” You whispered to her. “Welcome to the world.”

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant

[twola]

that last anon's request was Big Brain and i wanna jump off it to request the opposite scenario: F!reader is sick with some sort of illness, perhaps not terminal like TB but definitely debilitating for however long she has it. she still wants to be intimate with HH!Arthur and Arthur is just worried about nursing her back to health, but does miss her too, you know... could make for some cute NSFW comfort. if you do this request, ty!!! 🤭

Ah! Caring Arthur. What a nursemaid. I volunteer to be sick. Here’s a shorty for you!

I am still working on four more requests, so if you have one pending, fear not, I haven't forgotten about you!

In Sickness

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader  Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

In which the trip up to Ambarino does not quite go as planned.

The cold winds rolled down the mountain’s face, clouds so dark it seemed like the dusk had already fallen in the midafternoon, the snowbanks growing by the moment as the horses trudge on.

“C’mon - no use in going on - we gotta set up a tent,” Arthur yells over the wind, his face tucked into the tall collar of his coat. 

You nod, pulling the scarf wrapped around your head to cover the lower half of your face, holding on tightly to the reins of your horse, but it is getting harder by the minute to stay upright. You knew you should haven’t come with him when he asked to you to come up to Ambarino on a hunt: you had already not been feeling great.

Now even as you try to wrap yourself closer against the wind and snow, you burn underneath your layers, feeling weaker and weaker as time ticks by. Arthur brings his horse to a stop amongst a grove of snow covered pines, bearing a small refuge from the howling wind.

He slides off his saddle and immediately starts to unpack the tent in his saddle bags, positioning the tent just out of range of the weighed-down boughs of the trees. 

“C’n’ you start a fire?” He has to yell above the wind, and you nod, moving to climb down from the horse. A bout of lightheadedness hits you, and your coming down is far less graceful than usual.

Actually, you land on your back in the snow, moaning out in pain and exhaustion, and your horse, your young mare, whinnies, and rears in agitation.

Arthur looks up and curses, immediately leaping up and trudging quickly through the snow, up to his boots, to where you landed.

“Shit - Darlin’, took a tumble there.” He says as he stoops over you, leaning over to help you up.

That’s when he sees your flushed face, your labored breathing. “Hey, hey - sweetheart, you feelin’ alright?”

A weak moan is all you can muster.

Arthur looks around, mumbling to himself. He steps closer to you and immediately hoists you up with a strong arm behind your back and the other under your knees, and carries you toward the trees, placing you gently on the ground against one of the large trunks. He stoops down on one knee in front of you, his gloved hands cupping both cheeks as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

“I’m gonna get the tent up, then we’ll getcha nice and warm, alright there, darlin’?”

You nod, and he leans over and presses his warm lips to your forehead before standing back up and moving toward the tent, working quickly to get it pitched. He grabs the bedroll from his saddle, yours as well, laying them out beneath the canvas. You stumble up, trying to show that you’re not completely useless and wade through the snowbank toward him as he finishes up the tent.

“C’mere,” Arthur reaches for you and you nearly fall into his embrace, he pulls you into the tent, maneuvering your body with ease onto one of the bedrolls before crawling inside himself. He pulls down the canvas flap to keep out the cold, before pulling a blanket over you as he lays on his side next to you.

You want to cry. This was supposed to be an escape for the two of you - some hunting, maybe a lot of time spent in a tent… and now it's all wasted.

“M’ sorry I’m ruining our outing.” You sigh, eyes glassy looking up at him. 

“You ain’t ruining nothin’ there, sweetheart. If you haven’t noticed, it's stormy as hell outside. Even if you was right as rain, we’d probably still be doin’ the same thing just sittin’ in this tent.” Arthur shakes his head as he pats his bandana on your forehead, wiping away the sweat dotting from your clammy skin.

You frown, blinking away tears. “Not uh, we wouldn’t be wasting time away from camp when you’ve been gone for so long.” You add a piteous tone to the last words.

He snorts lightly, understanding your innuendo. “Darlin’, I don’t think you’re up to that now.”

You huff, your red-tinged cheeks betraying how right he actually is. “But I’ve missed you. So much, Arthur.”

“ ‘nd I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

You pout your lips out slightly, knowing that the man had a hard time saying no to you.

“Arthur…”

“Darlin’.”

“Please?”

He sighs. He pulls his hat off, placing it on the ground next to him. “You know you’re a minx, little miss.” He wriggles off his blue fur-trimmed coat, placing it over your body atop the bedroll. He sheds his boots, leaving them beside the canvas flap tied shut to keep the wind out. The cowboy scoots - a funny sight, considering how large he is inside this little tent - completely next to you, placing his lips softly on your forehead before moving to the back of the tent, behind the bedroll.

Arthur moves to sit behind you, pulling you gently to recline on him between his legs. He presses another kiss against your temples, one of his hands moving slowly toward your lap. 

You let out a deep breath as he draws up the blanket covering your lower half, then pulls at your skirts so that they bunch up around your hips.

You give a weak moan as his rough knuckles brush against the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here. Gonna make you feel so good.” He murmurs against your temple as his hand pushes your legs apart. 

He trails up, up, to the waistband of your bloomers, and slides his hand underneath the fabric as you gasp, his fingers trailing downward once more, through the thatch of hair over your cunt to the apex of your thighs as you close your eyes, your hands clenching against his knees on either side of you. 

He rubs, deliciously slow, at your folds, his pointer finger parting them and pressing gently at your weeping entrance before moving back upwards toward the little nub of nerves. You whine, leaning back against him with your head on his shoulder.

After several moments of gently circling that hooded skin, he kisses your forehead as he presses his hand back downward, and dips his pointer finger inside your entrance.

“Oh -” You stutter as your hips buck toward his touch, and he chuckles softly as he presses his finger in further, pressing against your wet, warm inner walls.

You whine, as he pulls his finger from you and pushes back in, a torturously slow rhythm as he works you open.

A gasp bursts from your throat as he adds a second finger, his middle one, thick and long, as he continues his ministrations. 

“There we go, I’ve got you, sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

His thumb presses against that hooded skin above your entrance as his middle and pointer fingers crook within your cunt. Your spread legs shake as he slowly works you, as you pant and gasp, finally looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. Your mouth hangs open as your fingers clutch at the blanket.

“I-I’m gonna-” You choke out before he pushes his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Come for me, darlin’ girl.” He whispers roughly into your hair, and you do, oh, you do.

You mewl, high-pitched and needy, as you clench around his fingers, a small gush of your arousal dripping from your cunt, down his palm to his wrists.

He pulls you closer, kissing your forehead as he slowly retracts his fingers. He rights the disheveled waistband of your bloomers, pulling them back into place.

“What - what about you?” You breathe heavily, trying to stay awake.

“ ‘M fine, sweetheart.” He replies, pulling the hem of your skirt down and pulling the blanket up over your form as he adjusts you in his arms.

“But - ”

Arthur lays down atop the bedroll, pulling you over his chest, so that your head is pillowed softly on him. He winds his arms around you and kisses the top of your forehead.

“We can see in the morning, if you’re feelin’ better.”

[wyntereyez]

Wool of bat and tongue of dog

Thanks to @jrob64 for the banner! It's perfect.

Here's the first part of my @cssns contribution. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but thanks to me being a terminal procrastinator combined with a very busy two weeks at work, my brain can't word very well at the moment.

Part One

The door to the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center was unlocked.

Emma immediately went on the alert. Mary Margaret had left over an hour ago, and she’d never have forgotten to lock the door behind her. After Walsh and the events of the previous month, Emma had taken to bringing her gun with her. She could see Mary Maragaret’s frown whenever she spotted it, but Emma refused to be alone without it. 

Not when she was a potential target for the supernatural.

And now, it looked like her fears were well-founded, because there was something inside the building that definitely wasn’t a bat. Emma had inched the door open, holding her breath so she could listen. She could hear something moving in the lobby, by the reception desk.

A deep, resonating growl that made a primal part of Emma want to scream and flee. Her grip tightened on the gun, and she started to raise it.

Then an annoyed chittering followed, which was interrupted by a yip of indignation. Supernatural, all right, but familiar.

Emma holstered the pistol and stepped inside.

A massive wolf was crouched next to the desk, eyes locked on the large fruit bat perched on the edge. The bat raised his head and made delighted squeaks, and the wolf offered a wag of the tail before turning her snarling muzzle back to the bat.

“No supernatural turf wars before I’ve had my coffee,” Emma grumbled. She picked Killian up and plopped him down atop the startled Ruby’s back, then headed towards the breakroom. Ruby padded along after, Killian clinging to her shoulders for dear life.

They both waited patiently as Emma brewed a pot of coffee. While she waited, she grabbed the fruit bowl from the fridge and offered it to Killian, who daintily grabbed a slice of banana and half a strawberry. Ruby’s tongue flicked out, snatching two melon cubes and getting saliva all over the fruit, making Killian shriek in indignation. Emma sighed. “Can we use human words now, please?”

The fruit bat clumsily pulled himself to Ruby’s side, then released his grip on her fur. If he’d been a normal crippled bat, Emma would have dove to rescue him. But the bat never hit the ground; instead, a leather-clad man crouched next to the massive wolf.

Ruby licked his face, smearing melon and saliva on his cheek. Killian sputtered, and she trotted off, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“How’d you piss her off this time?” Emma asked as she added cream and sugar to her coffee.

“What makes you think I’m responsible, Swan?” Killian pouted as he straightened. His hook gleamed in the fluorescent light.

“You turned into something small, helpless, and cute to argue with her,” Emma pointed out. 

“Which wasn’t enough to prevent me from being angry with you,” Ruby said as she re-entered the break room on two legs.

Now that Emma was in on her secret, Ruby had taken to leaving spare clothes at the Belfry in case of unexpected transformations. She returned shortly in human form, wearing a red T-shirt and black leggings. Her feet were bare, toes caked with dirt from her run. She made a beeline for the coffee pot.

“You’re late tonight,” Ruby commented. “Did something happen?”

“I spent all day at the Town Hall.” Emma couldn’t hold back her groan. “You wouldn’t think it would be so difficult to select an interim mayor. They just need someone to hold the position until an election can be held.”

The mayor had been found dead of a heart attack in his office two days previous, throwing the city council into an uproar. It was a headache that Emma really didn’t need. Especially since there was one member of the council famous for disagreeing with everything, and he’d loudly shot down every candidate. Several of the city council members were friends of his, and tended to follow his lead, which led to deadlocked votes. “He’s going to drive me insane,” Emma sighed.

“Leroy?” Ruby hazarded.

“Yep. Had an argument for everything. By the time the meeting was called, the council still hadn’t chosen anyone, and I almost went to the Rabbit Hole instead of coming here.”

“Sounds worse than vampire politics,” Killian snorted. “Though I imagine there’s less blood.”

“You’d be surprised,” Emma slumped into a chair, her exhaustion finally getting to her. “So what were you two fighting about?” 

Killian and Ruby exchanged glances. “A deer,” they said in unison. 

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose, already sorry she asked. This was going to add to her headache. “And why was this particular deer so important? We’re surrounded by woods, there are hundreds of them around.

“I was hunting it, of course. A vampire can’t live on strawberries alone. And deer’s blood can sustain me for more than a week.”

“You didn’t have to choose my prey!” Ruby’s voice had developed a snarl not unlike her wolf’s vocalizations. “I’d been stalking that deer for more than an hour!”

“It was the only deer I’d scented for miles,” Killian defended. “And unlike you, I need live prey.”

Emma tensed, suddenly reminded that she was dealing with two supernatural predators. She reminded herself she’d seen Killian in bat form with his face buried up to his eyes in fruit, and that she’d once half-carried a drunken Ruby home. They were predators, but they had softer sides. Hell, she’d known Ruby since high school.

Ruby scowled and turned the other chair backwards, so she could sit on it with her chin resting on the headrest. She continued to glare at Killian.

“This isn’t your usual night for hunting.” Killian usually chose the nights where no one stayed overnight to go out.

“True; but that storm that’s brewing is going to hang around for a few days. I don’t fancy hunting in the rain.”

“Same reason I was out,” Ruby nodded. “I needed to get a good run in before being cooped up the next few nights. And deer are one of my favorite meals.”

Emma abruptly burst out laughing. At Killian and Ruby’s matching looks of bewilderment, she explained, “Sorry, I just thought about how it must look, seeing Killian stalk a deer when he’s dressed like a pirate.”

“He hunts as a wolf,” Ruby growled. “Which makes him a trespasser on my territory.”

“You can turn into a wolf?!” Emma asked incredulously, then wondered why she was so shocked. She’d been dealing with the existence of the supernatural for nearly a month now; she should be used to this, right?

“Aye,” Killian said, “vampires can become any creature of the night. Though we’re far more impressive than weres.” 

Emma wondered what was considered a ‘creature of the night’, especially since she knew wolves were frequently active during the day. Could he become an opossum? A raccoon? Maybe a cricket?

Vampire crickets, now there was a thought.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Vampiric wolves look like how wolves were traditionally depicted: all snaggly teeth and glowing eyes. Werewolves, on the other hand, are perfect specimens of wolf: lithe and muscular, swift as the wind.”

“So… you’re like the goths and jocks of the wolf community?” Emma took a sip of her coffee to hide her amusement as she watched Ruby sputter indignantly. Killian simply smirked, flashing that chipped fang.

“Perhaps we should continue our tale, lass, before we end up at each other’s throats, aye?” Killian said softly, and Ruby calmed.

“Yeah.” Ruby shook her head as though to dispel the last vestiges of wolf. 

The change in tone put Emma on immediate alert. “What happened out there?”

“Something spooked the deer badly enough that it turned around and fled past us,” Killian said. 

Oh. That didn’t sound good. Emma set her coffee aside, suddenly too nauseous to finish it. “Did you investigate?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “We followed the deer’s path, and soon we could smell what had frightened it. It was…wrong. It made my hackles rise, and I was growling without even knowing at what. Killian and I crept forward, and that’s when we found it.”

“An altar,” they said in unison.

Ah. Emma doubted they meant the kind you’d find in a church. “Oh?” Her coffee was getting cold, she noted as she took a lingering sip.

“A witch’s ritual altar,” Killian clarified, staring at her intensely. 

“A witch? Of course they’re real, too,” Emma sighed. “How worried about this should we be?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need a better look at the altar and the sigils around it to get an idea of what sort of ritual was performed.”

“So you’re an expert in witches now?” Ruby arched a brow.

“No, but I can ask people who are, and for that, I need photos. We need to get back out there immediately and photograph the site.”

Neither would have had access to their phones’ cameras, of course. Ruby would have been a wolf, and while Killian could transform clothes along with his body, it only seemed to be the archaic black leather outfit he favored when he wasn’t pretending to be human. Objects like his phone or wallet didn’t survive the transformation.

“Swan, I’d like you to come along as well; I want to see how you react to the magic.”

When Walsh had tried to compel Emma, he’d discovered that she was immune to his vampiric powers. This intrigued Killian, because it was a very rare gift not found in pure humans. He was determined to figure out just what was in her bloodline.

Emma was less enthused about this. She didn’t have any interest in parents that had abandoned her as a baby. She only cared about David and his mother Ruth, who had taken her in when she was a feral street child and given her a home and love.

Plus, she really didn’t want to walk around the woods after dark. There might be ticks or something.

“Now? It’s almost midnight!” And the moon was only a crescent, meaning it would be dark as pitch outside.

“Aye, but there’s a storm rolling in. All the evidence will be washed away by morning. Likely by design,” Killian said.

Reluctantly, Emma grabbed her coat from the closet while Ruby went off to change back into a wolf. Despite the protection of a large wolf and a vampire, Emma felt a thrill of fear as they stepped away from The Belfry’s exterior lights and to the edge of the forest beyond.

Her flashlight did little to help.

“So… tell me about witches,” Emma said. “Just how dangerous are they?”

“Most witches are benign,” Killian corrected, surprising her. “Just women gifted with knowledge and a bit of magic. Many of them end up in positions where they can use their gifts to help others: doctors and nurses, veterinarians, financial advisors, that sort of thing. Some are hide amongst charlatans, using real magic and divination to tell futures or speak with the dead, though those are rare. Mostly, they just live among humans, leading normal - though perhaps luckier - lives.

“True practitioners of the black arts are rare. They’re hunted by their own kind, in much the same way I take care of out of control vampires. This one… the scent of her magic is rotten.”

“What can someone with that kind of magic do?”

Killian scratched his cheek with the tip of his hook as he thought. “They can create curses, give others ill luck, or even kill without touching their victim. We won’t know much more until my expert has had a look.”

There was silence for a while after that, as Emma tried to fit this into her already shaken worldview. Finally, she decided it was just too much for one night, and turned her thoughts to something else.

“Henry really enjoyed visiting your ship the other day. It’s all he’s been talking about ever since.” Henry’s class had taken a day to tour the ‘real’ pirate ship (which was, in fact, a very real pirate ship, captained by a very real pirate), and he’d come home asking for sailing lessons. Not possible so late into the season, but she’d promised him that if he was still interested next year, she’d look into it.

“He’s a fine lad,” Killian told her. “Smart, and curious about everything. I’d be delighted to teach him some sailing basics, if…”

If you give me a reason to stick around, Emma knew he was thinking. Because Emma knew it was more than the threat of a rogue vampire that kept Killian living as a bat in Storybrooke. And three nights ago, Killian had finally made his move to see if there could be anything between them.

“So, Swan, are you looking forward to tomorrow night?”

Ahead, Ruby slowed, canting back one ear. Emma thought at first something had put her on alert; then she realized her friend was eavesdropping.

Right. Tomorrow. When she and Killian had dinner reservations for Bella Notte. Their first date.

She’d never been so nervous.

She wanted to date Killian. But her violent introduction to the world of vampires had left her cautious. Even Ruby’s reassurance that vampire society worked as Killian had described, with strict laws and enforcers that carried out ruthless punishments for lawbreakers, she’d still been wary.

Walsh had been terrifying, but he’d been newly-turned. Weak. Killian was centuries old and powerful.

He also squeaked at her petulantly if she gave him banana slices when he wanted strawberries.

The rumbles of thunder that had begun when night fell were growing louder, and Emma was beginning to worry they wouldn’t make it to the altar in time. But after forty-five minutes of what felt to Emma like random stumbling around in the dark, Ruby let out a sharp bark.

“We’re here,” Killian said unnecessarily. Because Emma could feel the change in the air, something that made her hair stand on end. 

“The hell?” she asked.

“So you do feel it,” Killian sounded as if she’d just confirmed something for him.

How could anyone not feel that? It was a miasma that pressed against her, threatening to smother her.

She fought down the urge to claw at her skin, and forced herself to examine the altar.

If Emma had been walking through the woods alone, she never would have seen it - or at least not realized it wasn’t a natural formation. She ran the flashlight beam over a tree that had been split in half, probably by a lightning strike. One half had fallen to the side, the other was still attached to the stump, but bent at a ninety degree angle to form a natural table just over knee height.

The split trunk was spotted with dark stains. A fragment of bone was caught in a furrow in wood.

“I’ll hold the torch if you’ll take the photos,” Killian offered. Emma handed the flashlight over, and he directed her to photograph the altar, as well as the sigils she’d missed at first look. The were carved into the ground, or painted onto the trunks of surrounding trees with the same fluid that had stained the altar.

Killian was thorough. Emma wondered if he was like this with all investigations, because she could use someone like him in the Sheriff’s Department.

Thunder boomed, and Emma and Ruby jumped. “Storm’s almost here,” Killian observed. “We’d better leave now, before we’re caught out in it.”

They only just managed to make it back to The Belfry before the sky opened up. Emma was soaked through by the time she managed to unlock the door, and Ruby reeked of wet dog. Killian, she noted, managed to look ridiculously good even when wet.

The rain pounded away into the night, and Emma shivered. She hoped it would be enough to wash away the taint of evil in the forest.

~oOo~

The stranger stank of dark magic.

Emma had been in the back office of the sheriff’s station, taking care of paperwork, when David had called her up front.

Grateful to escape her papery hell, she’d hurried up front - only to be brought up short by the elegant woman in the immaculate business suit who was ignoring David’s attempts to be friendly. Emma, however, immediately drew her interest.

Dark eyes ran up and down Emma, and perfect lips turned down into a frown, as if she’d found Emma lacking. “Can I help you?” she asked stiffly.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Regina Mills,” the woman said haughtily. “I’m the new mayor of Storybrooke.”

~tbc~

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

For my first thought about “Saw X” (once again, highly recommend), I’m really impressed with how the movie managed to make their concept work. It’s mainly because the story of “Saw X” is really hard to pull off.

Not a lot of movies and shows can portray the kidnapper/torturer/evil mastermind as the protagonist while the victims are the main villains. Because, obviously, no one wants to be rooting for a character who is tormenting other people. It’s like making a version of “Squid Game” where you’re supposed to root for the VIPs, that’s a hard sell.

But, there are the rare few that manages to pull this off. “Hard Candy” is one of the best examples of this since the victim is a pedophile murderer while the torturer is Elliot Page. “Don’t Breathe” is an accidental example since even though we’re supposed to root for the victims, they’re not so easy to side with since they’re burglars who robbed a blind man.

So “Saw X” had a tough sell since we’re supposed to be on Jigsaw’s side for once. But honestly, I thought they nailed it. Not only are the victims horrible people (scammers who prey on the terminally ill), the story doesn’t force you to like John Kramer. John is entirely unapologetic about his actions as Jigsaw and the movie doesn’t try to justify him, especially by having Amanda question John’s choice of putting Gabriella into a test (she was a drug addict). Instead, the story naturally puts you on John’s side by focusing on his internal dilemma; fighting his cancer.

The first third of the movie was entirely devoted to John dealing with his cancer and how he was dreading that he was almost out of time. It humanizes John and makes you feel really sorry for him, even knowing who he is. What I like about this is that it’s not forced sympathy because the audience has known about John being a cancer patient for over a decade by now. Focusing on John’s disease and mortality makes sense is what I’m saying.

Even Jigsaw’s friendship with the little boy Carlos makes sense since John wanted to be a father. The one thing that people can say was a little forced to make you sympathize with Jigsaw STILL has precedence in the series, which is really rewarding for people who’ve watched every “Saw” movie. Nothing felt out of place for John’s character, it’s like a legit tribute to the character.

So when you learn that the doctors were all scam artists, it’s natural to side with John since:

1) They did it to themselves

2) You feel for John since you watched at least 30 minutes of him trying to fight the disease

3) You feel angrier towards the doctors since they’re arguably worse people than John

4) The lead doctor reveals that she knew John was Jigsaw and continued the grift anyways, so they have really no excuse

It’s like “Don’t Breathe” again, where both sides are horrible people, but the more sympathetic one gets to be the hero. And I’m all for it, because fuck medical malpractice/grifters.

(Side note: I feel like another way the movie got us on John’s side was that he stayed true to his word. If you pass the test, you get to live. During the movie, he makes sure Diego survived since he passed and asked that Gabriella be taken to a hospital after she freed herself. It’s honor, but in a fucked up way, which is appropriate for the character)

[elisysd]

I’ll Get the Coffee -Kathryn Gallagher

Masterlist - Previoulsy - Next Chapter

God, you look so good in the morning God, you look so good on me And I can't hear nothing but your heart beating God, it sounds so good to me

It was with a mixture of apprehension and excitement that Lyanna waited for Charles at the arrival’s terminal. It was late, the night was dark and it was a totally deserted London that she had crossed in her taxi. And yet she had never felt so awake. Finally, the landing of Charles's flight from Japan was announced. Lyanna wasn't sure what to expect. She was happy to see him again at last; it had only been three weeks, but even though they had called each other frequently, nothing could replace physical contact. She couldn't wait to finally be in his arms and hold him close. She knew he needed it, even if he was too proud to admit it.

Nervously, she checked her phone, waiting for a message from Charles, which soon arrived.

I get off the plane, pick up my suitcase and I'm all yours. Hang on, love.

The various incoming flights were starting to arrive and Lyanna frantically searched the crowd for the Ferrari pilot's face before catching sight of him. He was wearing a cream-coloured jumpers and sweatpants as well as his glasses. If she hadn't known he was supposed to be in London, she would never have recognised him. But what worried her most was the exhaustion on his face. He was drained. It was hard to know whether this was because of the long flight, the recent races or a mixture of both. She waved her hand to indicate her presence. When Charles finally noticed her, his face lit up and he hurried towards her. He readjusted his backpack on his shoulder and approached her. Once he was face to face with her, he put an arm around her waist and held her close before placing a light kiss on the side of her head.

“God, I missed you so much.” He whispered against her skin.

“I missed you too. How was your flight?” she asked taking out his suitcase from his hand. He tried to argue but seeing the look she gave him made him stopped quickly.

“Awful. Thanks for asking.”

“You seems exhausted, let’s go home so you can rest. It’s pretty late.”

He simply followed her with a nod. The ride back to Lyanna's flat was a silent one. She could feel Charles dozing off and on. He had laid his head in the crook of her neck and she could feel his breath against her skin, making her shiver. She took hold of his hand and simply traced small circles as she gazed out of the taxi window at the city. Once she was outside her apartment block, which wasn't far from Hyde Park, she set about waking him up. It made her heart ache a little when she heard him groan and it was almost by automatic command that Charles got out of the cab and followed her.

The flat was plunged into darkness, the only light being the natural light of the moon. Charles clumsily got rid of his shoes, while Lyanna left him for a moment to put his suitcase in her bedroom. When she returned, she was surprised to find him standing by the window, holding something Lyanna knew only too well.

“You play guitar?” he asked, surprised.

“It’s been a while.” she answered. “I used to, but now it’s more like a decorative object. I think it's detuned anyway.”

“That can be arranged. You’ve never told me that you played. You told me about piano but never guitar.”

“Well you’ve never asked me. And I’m full of surprises mister Leclerc.”

“Well, I can’t wait to discover them all, miss Michel.”

She smiled gently at him before sitting on the sofa, silently asking him to join her, which he did.

“Do you want something to drink? Water, tea? Or to eat. I have biscuits or I can make you a sandwich.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m sleepy.”

“So let's get some sleep. Do you want me to prepare the guest room for you? It might be a better place for you to get a good night's rest. I move around a lot in my sleep sometimes and I don't want to wake you up. I know that sleep is important and...”

He silenced her with a long and tender kiss.

“There's no way I'm sleeping away from you. I thought about this moment the whole flight. And there's no way I'll wake up tomorrow without you by my side.”

“So bossy. I wasn't going anywhere don’t worry. I cleared my schedule for tomorrow. I’m all yours. And for your information, I really want to wake up in your arms tomorrow too.”

“Perfect. Let’s go to bed then.”

Charles stood up and grabbed both of the actress's hands to pull her towards him. At the force and suddenness of his gesture, she let out a little scream that made Charles smile. Without giving her time to understand what was happening to her, Charles put both hands under Lyanna's thighs and lifted her, pressing her against his chest.

“What are you up to?”

“I'm taking you to bed.”

“You don't even know where my room is!” she exclaimed, laughing.

“Well, guide me then.”

And so Lyanna did. Once in front of her door, Lyanna untied her hands from Charles's neck to open it, and he entered the room, closing the door with a heel strike. Lyanna put her hands back behind Charles's neck and noticed his gaze on her. So intense and piercing, as if he were trying to bore into her soul.

“What?” she asked shyly.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you were?” he blurted out, as if it were urgent for him to say it.

“Not really. I think it’s actually the first time you say it.”

“I should say it more often, then.”

“You don’t have to. It kind of makes me uncomfortable” she let out with a laugh to hide her embarrassment.

“Don’t be. Please. You are beautiful Lya. And I’m not just talking about your physical appearance. You have a beautiful soul, too.”

If it hadn't been pitch black in the room, Lyanna could have sworn Charles would have seen her blush from ear to ear. Embarrassed, she wriggled to get Charles to put her down, which he eventually did. She cleared her throat and slipped into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom to change before coming back a few minutes later.

“The bathroom is all yours if you want to take a shower. I’m going to make room for you in the closet so you can put your clothes there instead of letting them in the suitcase.”

He nodded before leaving her on her own to collect her thoughts. When he returned a few minutes later, she was putting a clean pillowcase on a pillow. Without a sound, he approached her from behind and hugged her waist before placing butterfly kisses along her neck.

“I thought you were sleepy” she said letting herself lean against him, exposing a little more of her skin to Charles's lips.

“Well now I’m very, very awake. It’s supposed to be the morning in Japan.”

“Charles…” she whined. “Let’s get to bed. I want to sleep.”

He reluctantly let her go. She took the opportunity to slip between her sheets before inviting Charles to do the same. He let her settle comfortably before joining her. Once perfectly settled, she on the right by the door and he on the left, she turned off the light. Plunged into the half-light, she took the opportunity to press herself against him, slipping one of her legs between his. Charles put an arm around her shoulders and held her close. He could smell the vanilla scent of her hair tickling his nostrils and took comfort in the warmth of her body. Resting her head on his chest, he played nonchalantly with her hair. Soon he felt the actress breathing softly and evenly against him, and concluded that she had fallen asleep. Her arm rested on Charles's stomach and he caught himself thinking that if he could experience this every day for the rest of his life, he would be the happiest of men. For the first time, winning a championship was no longer the only thing that mattered to him. Lyanna had joined his list and had moved to the top of his rankings. It was with this thought that he too fell asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was surprised to find that the actress had not moved and was sleeping just as soundly. She looked so peaceful that Charles had no desire to move or wake her, even though he could no longer feel his arm. He tried to draw her a little closer to him, which had the effect of making her twitch slightly. She moved her arm up a little further up and placed it just where Charles's heart was beating. Even though the pilot found her beautiful, he still felt the need to get up.  

He placed a kiss on the top of her head before running his lips over her eyelids, her nose, and her cheeks. He moved down her neck before moving up to brush his lips against hers. A gentle smile played across Lyanna's lips before she wrapped her arms around Charles's neck and pulled him to her.

“I see someone’s awake” she whispered, still half asleep.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He said with a peck on her lips.

“No kisses. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“As if I cared, Lya.”

“Let me just go to the bathroom really quickly” she pleaded him.

As she was rolling to the edge of the bed, Charles grabbed her around the waist and quickly put her astride him.

“Where do you think you are going?” he playfully asked her.

She shook her head in disapproval and smirked. She in turn leaned towards him, stopping only a few millimetres from where Charles most wanted to feel her. And without a word, moving just as swiftly as Charles, she put her foot under the pilot's thigh, her arms around his neck and positioned him so that he was on top of her.

“Where did you learn that kind of things?” he exclaimed, surprised.

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

They spent the rest of the morning laughing together, like two teenagers. It was like those few weeks they'd been apart, and any tension that might have arisen between them had never existed. They cooked together and ate together before deciding to spend the afternoon walking around the town.

“You were kind enough to show me your Monaco, now it’s my turn to show you my London.” She told him when he asked her what she wanted to for the rest of the day.

“I can’t wait.” He replied.

====

author's note: A smaller chapter BUT a cute one. I wanted them to be cute so I wrote them cute. I really love them together. I hope this chapter made you as happy while you were reading it as it made me while I was writing it. As usual, feedsbacks are appreciated. And let me know your thoughts and what you think is going to happen in next chapter! Do you think there is going to be drama? If so, what kind of drama? Do you think it's still going to be cute? I'm not gonna say anything but I already love next chapter. Take care of you and see you next chapters!

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[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 6

(Frenemies/ Tenderness AU)

SIX: A Terrible Thing to Bear

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: Simon has compromised his own morals in his quest to discover who your secret lover is, but what he discovers is nothing compared to what he imagined. Tempers flare and harsh words are exchanged as the ugly truths you both have kept hidden come to light.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Angst, Hurt/No comfort - not yet anyway, Mentions of sex trade/prostitution, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Simon is being stalker-ish, No use of Y/N

(Notes: This is a rough chapter, y’all. Simon does some questionable things, so fair warning. He’s allowed his obsession with this supposed lover of Reader’s to warp his perception of right and wrong, and his decisions reflect that. While I don’t condone this type of behavior, and I’m not trying to romanticize it at all, I still felt like it was in character with Simon and how he would cope with the situation, treating it like a mission to complete.)

[image via GIPHY]

Word Count: 3350

Chapter 6

“Remorse is a terrible thing to bear, Pam, one of the worst of all punishments in this life. To wish undone something you have done, to wish you could look back on kindness to someone you love, instead of on unkindness - that is a very terrible thing.”

― Enid Blyton, House at the Corner

-

It felt like a betrayal of trust, what he was doing. 

If he had allowed himself to think about it, maybe he would have acknowledged that, yes, it absolutely was a betrayal. However, Simon was in no mood to be swayed from his mission, not even by his own conscience. Even so, his moral compass had taken a severe hit this past week.

He had stolen your phone.

He had every intention of giving it back, he just needed to ‘borrow’ it for a few hours. Still, he felt like a right sorry bastard, having to witness how upset you were over its loss. He consoled himself with the knowledge that your small grief was only temporary and was ultimately for a good cause. If that useless tosser you were seeing wasn’t going to take care of you properly, then Simon needed to intervene. He was doing this for you, he told himself.

Funny, that he had to keep reminding himself of that.

The first order of business was to be able to track you once you left Banfield, thus his reason for stealing your phone. He drove the two hours to base, your cell phone weighing like a stone in his pocket, then handed it over to one of the lab rats in the tech department.

“Need t’be able to trace this long range,” he’d told the tech, handing over your phone.

“Anything else?” the tech asked expectantly.

Putting a tracker on your phone was bad enough. Simon shook his head. “Nah. That’ll do. Need it ASAP.”

The tech looked the cell over and shrugged. “Won’t take long. Are you sure you don’t need access to anything else, though? I can get you detailed logs of calls, texts, search history, locations—”

“Locations?” Simon interrupted. Now, that he would allow. “Can you pinpoint where they were last Sunday?”

The tech nodded, a rather smug expression on his face as he tilted his nose up in the air. “Well, I can tell you where the phone was... approximately.” He took the phone back to his terminal and hooked it up to his computer, then began typing. He hacked into it within minutes, your personal data scrolling down the computer screen. “Alright then, let’s see where you’ve been..." he mumbled to himself. Scrolling down the screen, he paused to ask, "Last Sunday, did you say?”

“Yeah,” Simon muttered, his large frame leaning over the shoulder of the smaller man, eager to see what he’d find.

"Time stamp?"

Simon erred on the side of caution. "Hm, let's say... 0900. They would have been traveling that morning. I need to know where they went."

The tech gave a quick nod. He scrolled for a few more seconds, his brows furrowing. “Huh. Bit of a rough borough,” he muttered. He glanced over his shoulder at Simon, his neck craned. “Judging by the pings, it looks like your target took the overtrain to Hackney last Sunday.”

“Hackney?!” Simon barked, making the tech jump in surprise. ”Where in Hackney?” he demanded.

The tech pushed his glasses back up his nose, blinking up at Simon’s skull mask with an owlish expression. He quickly turned back to the keyboard.

“I can’t pinpoint a specific location, like an address," he warned, fingers dancing over the keys, "but I can narrow it down to a general area." He began to scroll down through more data displayed on the screen and then moved to the side, pointing at the log. 

“Your target reached their destination around eleven Sunday morning. They were stationary for about six hours at a location in Shoreditch. Looks like they were somewhere around the party block.” When Simon gave him a quizzical look, he explained. “Lot of clubs in that area. You know, dance clubs, strip clubs, bars and the like.” He peered up at Simon with a leering little smirk. “Your target isn’t a waitress or a stripper, is she? If she’s got some hot selfies. I could forward ‘em to ya,” he suggested, raising his eyebrows as he waggled your phone back and forth.

Anger, swift as a brush fire, swept through Simon in a flaming rush. The thought of this pervy little creeper going through your photos infuriated him. He yanked the phone away, laying it back on the desk before jabbing a finger into the tech’s boney shoulder. “Jus’ get the bloody tracker operational, then delete everything ya downloaded off that phone. All of it. Understood?”

The tech, realizing his mistake too late, gave a jerky nod as he scrambled to do as Simon commanded, shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder. Once the tracker was installed and activated on your phone, the tech disconnected it and deleted all your data from the system. Tapping the delete button on the last file, he proclaimed it, “Done and done,” with an air of smug bravado.

Simon eyed the younger man. There was just something about this weaselly little punter that didn’t sit right with him. He leaned down close to the tech’s face, skull mask close enough to brush his cheek. "Just a warnin', lad. If ya try t'pull a fast one, an' I find out ya kept, say, the file wif her pictures, I'll be back t'visit ya, an’ I won’t be as pleasant as I was this time.” He drew back to stare into his eyes. “We on the same page, mate?"

The terrified tech gulped, the knuckle of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his scrawny neck. "Y-Yes, sir," he breathed out in a quavering voice.

Simon straightened and clapped a big hand on the tech’s shoulder. "Good lad," he growled, squeezing his hand tight enough to make the young man's eyes widen in pain and panic. "Now get the receiver for the tracker goin’. I got places t’be."

The tech set to work with trembling hands, back spacing several times while typing to correct mistakes made with his nervous fingers. Finally, he managed to program a receiver and synced it to your cell phone, double-checking it before he passed it to the glowering lieutenant.

“S-Sorry about earlier, sir. I meant no offense,” he apologized, holding your phone out in offering.

Simon sneered at the tech as he snatched your cell phone from his hand and stalked out of the room without another word, absolutely seething with rage. However, he wasn't as angry at the little knob he'd just threatened as he was at you. 

What the bloody hell were you doing in Shoreditch? It had one of the highest crime rates in London, and you were just traipsing around the bloody place? His worries increased tenfold at the thought of you walking the streets there after dark, sitting alone and exposed at some inner-city bus stop like a piece of ripe fruit for some low-life to pick at their leisure. Did that bastard you were seeing at least walk you to your stop, make sure you got on the bus safe?

Simon grunted. Probably not. The fact that it was you putting forth all the effort and taking the risks hadn’t escaped him. Fuckin’ minger didn’t give a shite about you. Simon would never let you go somewhere like Shoreditch alone, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let you walk the streets alone at night. Just the thought of it made him feel sick.

His stomach was tied in knots by the time he made it back to his truck and set out for Banfield once more.

It was a long drive home.

-

Sunday...

The train to Hackney came to a halt with a squeal of brakes and a loud hiss. When the automatic doors opened, you quickly stepped out and made your way through the terminal to the main street beyond. You kept your head down, not making eye contact with anyone. Huddling inside your da’s old army jacket, you took a seat on the bench at the bus stop and waited for the bus to Shoreditch.

You didn’t pay any mind to the dark sedan that pulled to the curb across and further up the street, didn’t notice the large silhouette of a man sitting behind the wheel. You kept your eyes straight ahead and pointed down at the grimy sidewalk.

Simon slouched in his seat, the receiver blinking rapidly beside him. He checked his rental car’s mirrors before focusing on you again, taking in your stony expression. At least you knew not to engage with people, stay to yourself. He made a mental note to ask if you carried anything for protection, pepper spray or a knife. Not that those would do much good against some chav with a gun. He gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel.

Your bus arrived and you climbed aboard, taking a seat near the back. Simon waited until it was further up the block but still easily within sight before pulling out to follow. He wasn’t worried about losing track of you now, but he still felt the need to stay close, just in case.

With each stop, Simon tensed, waiting for you to rise and disembark, thinking your secret lover must live in one of the residential buildings that crowded the streets, yet it wasn’t until the bus reached a narrow street lined with shuttered businesses― bars, clubs and cheap eateries mostly, that you stepped off the bus. He pulled to the curb again to watch but felt his heart rate tick up when you turned and began walking in his direction.

“Fuck,” he hissed, trying to slouch in the seat and make himself less visible.

Just before you reached his vehicle, you stopped before a shuttered store front, the facade painted an ugly, lurid rust red, its corrugated shutter a flat black and littered with graffiti. You raised your fist and banged on the shutter, keeping a wary eye out as you waited. A door to the side of the shutter swung open, an older, balding man poking his head out and motioning for you to come inside.

Simon watched you step through the door, disappearing from sight, his eyes travelling up to the name of the establishment printed on the sign above in bold, white letters. ‘The Grind’, it read and below that in a smaller font, ‘Gentleman’s Club’.

“What the bloody fuckin’ hell?” he snarled.

You had just entered a strip club.

You stood in the back near the dressing rooms, a mop bucket filling with water from a tap low on the wall. A cleaning trolley sat nearby, loaded down with everything you’d need. Your boss, Murray, was standing on the other side of the tap, his paunchy frame leaned against the bare brick wall as he tapped away at his phone. He glanced up at you as you shut off the tap and dunked the mop in the bucket.

“Be sure an’ give the private rooms a deep clean. Had a good night last night. The lads kept the girls busy,” he said with a leering smirk.

You tried to hide your disgust at the insinuation. Murray’s ‘girls’ were allowed to supplement their incomes by servicing the club’s clientele with sexual favors. He was little better than a street pimp, taking a cut of their profits for himself in exchange for a safe place to conduct their business. He had cameras hid in the private rooms to make sure none of the dancers shafted him, always keeping a sharp eye on his ‘investments’, as he called them.

If not for the fact he paid you so well, you wouldn’t be caught dead around a dive like this, wouldn’t ever bother to come to Shoreditch or Hackney at all. After moving away from this crime-infested area, you never wanted to return, but your financial situation demanded it. If it wasn’t for this job, you would have to work another part-time job when you weren’t on shift at the pub. Ollie paid you a fair wage, but it wasn’t enough to cover all your living expenses.

Picking up the jug of industrial cleaner from the cart, you poured a measure of it into the bucket of water, wrinkling your nose at its caustic smell. You had no doubt that this is what was damaging your hands. “Hey, Mur. Do ya think you could switch cleaners? This stuff is so strong it takes the skin off my hands.”

Murray shook his head. “That stuff kills everything. No matter what these filthy mingers bring in here, tha’ stuff will take care of it. Just― double up on the gloves ‘r somethin’,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back towards his office.

Arsehole, you thought, scowling after him. You’d have to try and hide your hands from Riley tonight. He’d be checking on them now and would fuss, you knew, no doubt asking more questions. You grimaced at the thought.

You didn’t like dodging his questions and skirting around the truth, but he just wouldn’t leave it alone, and it was getting kind of annoying. You appreciated that he was concerned about your welfare, but he was toeing the line of your personal boundaries, trying to make something his business that simply wasn’t.

You could admit that most of your hesitance to come clean with him was due to your own embarrassment. You were being paid to deep clean what was essentially a brothel. You were paid well for it, sure— well, you were paid hansdomely for your discretion also— but who would want to admit they earned their paycheck tossing out bin bags of used condoms and scrubbing sex rooms clean for a living? You could just picture the look of disgust on Riley’s face if he ever found out.

You blew out a frustrated breath. This whole situation was wearing thin on your patience. You needed to get started, otherwise you risked missing your bus back to the train station later, and you didn’t want to be in Shoreditch after dark, if you could help it. Deciding to start with the trash, first, you grabbed the roll of bin bags from the cart and set off for the private rooms.

Simon strolled past the Grind’s entrance for the third time, eyes darting around beneath the hood of his sweatshirt as he eyed the security camera over the door. He’d spotted others while casing the building, all of them unfortunately operational, save one. It was located at the side emergency exit above the door, lifeless, its red light dead. 

It was his best hope of entry, but it was far from optimal. The alleyway was wide to allow vehicle access, so it was kept clear with few places to hide, far more exposed than he would have liked. He had also checked the emergency door during his first recon of the building, only to find that it was alarmed and locked tight. It wasn’t impregnable, he could still get in, but he would need to bypass the alarm as well as pick the locks, which would take time, and he would need to do all this without being spotted.

It was a recipe for disaster, he knew, his chances of being caught by some random pedestrian high. He was dressed casually, and he’d chosen to wear his surgical mask to draw less attention, but his size was an issue; his large, towering frame drew the curious glances of those he passed. Add that to being dressed in dark clothes and masked, if he was spotted loitering about the exit for too long, someone was bound to report him.

He needed a better look at the alarm and the locks to give him an idea of what this risky endeavor would entail. Turning down the alleyway once more, he kept a leisurely pace, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, seemingly relaxed, just a guy taking a shortcut to get to the next street over. His eyes shifted as he came even with the door, his steps slowing just a fraction, all attention focused on the locks.

He wasn’t expecting the door to suddenly burst open, and he startled, his body turning to face the door head-on. His eyes went wide when you came pushing out the door, hands full of bin bags. Your head shot up at the scuffing sound of his boots on the pavement, startled yourself, your mouth falling open to gasp as your eyes went wide in surprise.

“Riley?!”

Simon felt like a deer in headlights. You’d caught him red handed, nosing around, and only then did he consider how bad this must look. He could already tell by the way you were looking at him that he was about to catch all sorts of hell, so he acted accordingly.

Squaring off as he scowled at you, he growled, “The fuck is this, Dee? You an’ me are goin’ t’have a talk!”

“Oh, you fuckin’ bet we are!” you snapped back, flinging the bin bags down as you marched towards. him. You jabbed your finger at him as you gave him a baleful look. “You followed me,” you accused, voice low and angry. “You just couldn’t stand not knowing, could ya? You just had to know, so you followed me here, doggin’ my steps like some bloody’ creeper.” You glared at him, mouth pinching up in anger. “I am so fucking pissed at you, right now.”

Feeling defensive and irrationally betrayed, he glared at you, speaking in a venomous tone. “Don’t give a fuck how pissed ya are,” he huffed, then scoffed at your shocked expression. “So, this is yer big secret? Ya give lap dances to dirty old pervs to pay yer rent?” 

You wouldn’t have been more shocked if he had slapped you across the face. He’d said plenty of mean things to you in the past when the two of you argued, but he had never been cruel to you like this. Never. Pain as sharp as a dagger pierced your heart, but quickly morphed into fury. A thunderous look darkened your expression. Before you knew what you were about, you planted your hands on his chest and shoved him, hard. It caught him off guard enough that he staggered a step back, eyes going wide in surprise.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again!” you snarled, stepping away. “Better yet, don’t fuckin’ speak to me at all.” You spun on your heel and went back to the door, only then noticing it had closed behind you. You were locked out. Growling in frustration and on the verge of tears, you curled your hands into fists and began marching stiffly towards the street exit. You’d have to get Murray to let you back in.

Simon came around you and blocked your way, his eyes full of rage until he saw the expression on your face. Tears were threatening to spill, hurt sharp and bright in your eyes. “Doll, listen. I―”

“I trusted you. You were supposed to be my friend.” Your breath hitched, and a tear rolled down your face. You gave a furious shake of your head when he opened his mouth and hurried to step around him. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Doll, wait!” he called after you, but you shook your head and walked faster.

“Don’t, Riley. Just...leave me alone.” Your voice wavered on the last word, and you broke into a jog, hurrying around the corner and out of sight.

Simon stared after you, the reality of what he’d just done, what he’d just said to you, settling in his chest like cold lead, his heart crushed beneath the weight of his own remorse.

-

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[cinemastyles-backup]

Summary: After drunk texting Harry, your brother's best friend, to come pick you up from a party, things start to get a little harder to resist for Harry and y/n

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, road head, fingering, masterbation, slight sexting, etc. general filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

I slip on my dress and turn in the mirror, inspecting myself.

"Isn't that a little short?"

I jump and turn quickly, letting out a relieving sigh when I see it's just Harry, my brothers friend, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

"You're annoying." I roll my eyes and pull my dress down more.

"We'll now you're just showing the goods on the top half." He snorts and laughs. I turn to him, "If you have such a problem with my dress, why don't you dress me? Hmm?" I hold my arms out to my sides.

He shakes his head, "I'd rather undress you than anything."

"What?" I ask shocked. He winks, "You heard me." He pushes himself off the frame and turns around, "Derek, your sister is so annoying."

Derek laughs and agree with him, "You don't have to tell me."

"Screw both of you." I yell out the door. My phone dings and it's Macie letting me know she's pulling up to my house.

I grab my purse and give myself one last look over. I walk into the hall, "Derek I'll be back, Macie is here."

"Be safe. Have fun. Call if you need a ride." He yells from his room. Harry pokes his head out and looks me up and down again while biting his lip.

I roll my eyes and pull my dress up a little as I walk away. I look back over my shoulder before I walk down the steps and he's shaking his head.

Harry has been around for a while, we grew up together. We'll, he grew up with my brother, I was just here because I live here too.

Have I thought about Harry in certain ways, uh yeah I have. I mean look at him, he's so pretty. Like a perfectly chiseled statue from the gods themselves.

I open the car door and get in, "Hey!" She looks me over, "You got out of the house in this?" I give her a weird look, "What do you mean?"

She smirks, "Harry's in there with Derek, isn't he?"

I smile and shake my head, "Yeah." She whistles, "You and Harry just need to get it over with." I look over at her as she starts to drive, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Really?" She asks, "You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife."

I bite my lip and shrug, "I've thought about it, sure. But what if it goes bad and then it's all awkward between us for the rest of our lives."

"I really don't think you'll have to worry about that. Just, okay." She blows air, "Just have a few drinks tonight, loosen up, and text him. See where it goes."

I gasp, "Oh god, Macie, no. I can't do that." She nods, "Yeah, you can actually. Trust me. You'll want to text him once you're drunk. I know how you are."

"I'm not like that.." I look over at her, "Am I?"

She smiles, "It's okay. It's cute. You like him and he most definitely likes you back, so I say go for it."

"We'll see I guess."

———

... And you want a triple X throwdown, dial 1-900-MIXALOT, and kick them nasty thoughts, baby got back...

I walk over to grab another drink as the song ends, laughing with Macie.

"How do you feel?" She asks handing me a cup. I smile big, "Great."

"Did you text Harry?" She giggles, "You should totally text Harry."

My smile is instantly wiped away and I shake my head, "Oh fuck. No." I start to chug my drink before the anxiety hits me.

"Oh come on! Let loose tonight, girl. Have fun!" She pours more alcohol into my cup. "Okay." I finish my drink and tilt my head, staring at my empty cup, "I'll text him."

"That's my girl." Macie cheers and nods, "I'll be over there if you need me, but please don't need me because that guy is super fine."

She runs away and I bring my phone up. I stare at the screen for a few moments before I finally remember what I was doing.

"Oh right." I giggle. I pour myself another cup and walk over to the empty couch. I sit down and tap on Harry's contact.

Me: How's hanfing wirh my beother?

I stare at my screen waiting for a response.

Harry: Boring since I have no one to pick on now.

I smile and sip my drink before setting it back down. I slowly tap the screen, trying my best to concentrate on what I'm trying to type out.

Me: Oh boo shouls have came eith me

This liquor has me feeling bold. Might as well roll with it, right?

Harry: I didn't get an invite. How is the party?

I pick up my cup and send him a selfie, making sure my cleavage is on full display.

Me: Prety boring avually

Macie comes over and leans over the couch, wrapping her arms around my neck from behind, "Ahh! I love you!" She yells, "Let's take a picture!!"

I go into my camera and start taking snaps when Harry's text appears at the top of the screen.

Harry: Fuck. You look so hot.

"Oooh! It's going well I see." She giggles and hugs me, "Go get him tiger."

I look back at her as she stands up, "You're drunk."

"So are you!" She yells back as she is pull away by some guy.

I go back into our messages and bite my lip.

Me: Inwiah you were here

I pout slightly at the fact that he really isn't here.

Harry: I wish I was there too, sweetheart. Believe me.

Me: Why? So you cam make sureim all safe and sound?

I laugh slightly and lean back, finishing my drink.

Harry: To make sure no other guys touch what I want to be mine.

I stare at his text for what seems like forever before I remember that I need to respond.

Me: yourw so hot Harry. Like reallu really hott.

Harry: where are you at?

I look around.

Me: sittig on a coucg alone. Drunk hahaha

I furrow my brows and bite my lip.

Me: please come geg me

Harry: send me your location. I'm on my way.

I manage to figure out how to send him my location.

Me: im here. Cant wait to fuck you

I blink as I stare at my text, did I really just fucking send that? I smirk, yea I did.

Harry: Oh darling. You better be careful what you wish for.

Me: I willl be outside. Waitin for ya.

I shove my phone into my purse and stand up. I feel semi dizzy from sitting for a while. I shake my head slightly and look for Macie.

I spot her across the room making out with some guy. I walk over to her and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around and her eyes go wide, "Well?"

I smirk, "He is on his way. Will you be okay? Don't drive please." She hugs me, "I'll be fine. You just worry about getting your sexy on with Mr. Harry."

I laugh and nods, "Oh, i plan to." I turn and make my way outside. The cool air starts to sober me up as it snaps against my bare skin.

"I should have brought a coat." I mumble as I wrap my arms around myself. I walk back and fourth, my heels clicking against the sidewalk with each step.

There's a bright pair of headlights that shine on me. I squint and look away until they pass. The car is stopped in front of me and Harry gets out, looking over the top of it at me with a smirk.

"Hey!" I say in a super happy tone. He walks around and opens the door for me, "Hey." He says as I climb in.

He shuts the door and I look around, waiting for him to get back in. He gets in and reaches in the back, pulling a blanket up from the back seat, "Here."

I smile as he lays the blanket over my legs. My breathe suddenly catches in my throat as his hand brushes against my skin.

"Not much coverage on that dress I noticed." He says with a chuckle. I look over at him, "Are you complaining about it?"

He licks his lips, "Oh fuck no."

I smirk and lean down to take my heels off, "Just so you know. I'm not as drunk as I was."

"Oh yeah? So what you're saying is, you'll remember this tomorrow?" He glances over at me. I nod and bring my lower lip between my teeth, looking him up and down.

"Harry." I whisper, "Can I- uh. Never mind." I shake my head and sink down in my seat a little, the nervousness of being in his presence alone starts to settle in.

No, no. Do it. Just do it.

"You can do anything you want to me." He reaches over and gently runs his thumb over my chin and lips.

My drunk confidence returns and I unbuckle my seat belt. I move up so I'm sitting on my knees and I lean over. I place a hand on his chest and slowly slide it down as I kiss his neck.

A low groan escapes from his lips I suck his skin between my lips and bite down gently.

I slide my hand over his bulge, letting it sit on top for a few seconds before I slip my hand between the band of his sweats, "You're so hard for me already."

"As soon as I seen you in this dress.. I couldn't make it go away." He mumbles with a gasp, "I've thought about this. A lot."

I lean back and pull my hair over my shoulder. I lean over and he lifts his hips up so I can pulls his sweats and boxers down to his mid thigh.

I bite my lip and pump his cock a few times, earning low moans from him. I lean down and place my lips around the tip, sucking gently.

"Fuck." He groans low, "Shit."

I take more of him in, working my way down slowly. He places one of his hands on the top of my head, pushing down as he lifts his hips up.

I moan at the feeling of him being in my throat. I slowly pull back and slowly sink my mouth down into him again. I do that a few more times before he starts to tap my arm.

"O-okay, love. You're going to me make me cum and I don't want that yet." His breathing is heavy.

"Awe, why not?" I fake pout.

He reaches over and lays a hand on my thigh, "I want to feel your pussy around my cock before I do that."

I smirk at his words and lean back, bringing my one leg up and spreading them both. I slowly slip my panties off and throw them in his back seat.

"That was so hot. Are you going to play with your pussy for me while I find a spot for us to park?" He asks placing his hand back on my thigh, "You're such a bad girl."

I pull my dress up so it's bunching around my stomach, exposing myself to Harry. I bring two fingers up to my mouth and slowly suck on them. I look over at Harry and pull them out, playing them onto my clit.

I gasp at the sudden feeling of pleasure and whimper as I circle it, "Oh fuck."

He squeezes my thigh, "Oh shit."

I close my eyes and tilt my head back as I slip two fingers in, slowly scissoring my fingers in and out of my pussy, repeatedly moaning his name.

He keeps his focus on the road, hands tight around the steering wheel as he glances over.

He pulls off the road and parks, "Get over here." He unbuckles his seat belt as I climb over into his lap. His lips immediately find mine and it takes my breathe away.

It's so much better than I imagined.

"Are you sober?" He asks between kissing me.

I nod.

"I need to hear you say it."

I lean back and look at him, "I'm sober. I want you." I lean in and kiss his neck up to his ear, "I want you so fucking bad."

He moans lowly at my words and grips my hips, assisting me as I slide down onto him.

I grab his biceps and tilt my head back, "Oh fuck." He lets out a groan and rests his head against my chest, "Shit."

I start to move my hips, sitting gets to be too much. I gasp, "Harry."

"You feel so fucking good." He grabs my face and kisses me, "So much better than I thought."

The seat belt buckle is digging into my knee but I don't care, I lean back against the steering wheel and beep the horn, immediately bursting into laughter.

He laughs and wraps an arm around my waist.

"Sorry." I shake my head laughing. I bite my lip and look down at him. I trace my thumb over his bottom lip as I move my hips.

He closes his eyes and his lips part slightly. I lean down and rest my forehead against his.

"Are you close?" He whispers, "Feels like you are."

I nod, "Yes." I start to move my hips faster, getting into a rhythm that feels incredible.

"Cum for me." He whispers lowly, "I want to feel you cum all over my cock."

His words have a pull on me that's bringing me closer and closer.

I whimper as my knees start to hurt, the feeling of my orgasm rising fast. I claw at the headrest and push down onto him, rocking my hips slowly as I cum.

He holds me to his chest, talking to me gentle as I come down from my high, "Good girl. You did so good."

I slowly lean up, "Your turn."

I climb off of him and lean over the arm rest again, taking him into my mouth.

I pump his cock and suck on the tip, working him up to his orgasm, "Hmm, fuck." He bucks his hips slightly and places a hand on my back. His fingertips dig into my skin.

I take more of him in, swirling my tongue, sucking, moaning at the feeling of him in my mouth.

"D-Don't stop." He gasps, "Fuck, fuck."

He thrusts his hips up and holds my head still as his cum coat my mouth and throat. I lick him clean and sit up slowly, the pain of my legs starting to set in.

I look over at him and he looks back at me with a huge smile on his face, "You're so bad."

I scoff, "You started this, Mr I'd rather take your clothes off."

He shrugs, "I like you, what can I say?"

"You- you like me?" I smile slightly.

"I thought it was obvious. Your brother picks on me all the time for it." He pulls his pants up and looks over at me, "I mean, it really was just a matter of time before anything happened." He winks and I laugh, "Take me home, Styles."

"Your place or mine?"

"Yours."

——

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[smileyerim]

what we could’ve been

event: @neowritingsnet secret Santa for @jaesqueso <3

pairing: ex!taeyong x ex!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, angsty parts enemies to lovers

length: 5.1k

warnings: mentions of cheating

nets: @kflixnet @neowritingsnet

beta reader: @theonlysoph <3

. . .

You love your little hometown. As silly as it sounds, you truly do appreciate the life your parents built for you here. You love your house, your spacious and lush backyard, the mailman who knows your name, and the coffee shop a mile walk down with the best cherry danishes you have ever eaten.

There’s few things you don’t appreciate about your hometown. The icy winters, the big city transplants taking over the roads with their fancy cars.

The fact that you had to leave.

“You had a choice, you know.” Your best friend Joohyun says through the phone as you walk through the air bridge. The chilling air shocks you as you step off the warm airplane, goosebumps rising immediately.

“No, I don’t think I did.” You hold your phone between your face and shoulder as you readjust your bag on your other shoulder.

You can hear her roll her eyes in the pause she takes before speaking again, “Nobody forced you out. He didn’t force you out. You decided to go. That’s on you.” You stop in your tracks in the busy terminal and take a deep breath. You can’t afford to piss anyone else off.

“What was I supposed to do? Stay and watch the rest of the world fall apart around me? I left before it got worse, and you know it was already bad enough.” You whisper, aware of the listening ears around you as you step onto the escalator taking you down to baggage claim.

She pauses and you can hear another eye roll. “Whatever. I’ll see you soon.”

It’s been 3 years since you’ve last seen him, your last interaction was less than peachy. You had never seen him so angry, definitely never that upset with you. You wince at the memory of how loud he was yelling. The man you were imagining a future with turning so sour towards you. You didn’t even know what you had done until after he had finished laying in on you, but by that point you had no more skin in the game with him. You were done and so was he.

So you picked up and left town 3 weeks after your last fight, growing tired of avoiding the coffee shop near your house because the eyes of Taeyong’s massive friends group were always on you.

You wish you could convince yourself that it is truly whatever, but there’s a part of you that still hurts from the words Taeyong spat at you that night. You know you will have to face him eventually. And that’s fine. Sorta.

–

You’re both relieved and weighed down when you step out of the airport and see your mom standing by the boot of her car. She lets out a squeal when she spots you, arms opening wide waiting for you to travel over to her. You can’t help but let out a giggle and smile wide, walking at a faster pace than before to meet her in a hug.

“Hi, my baby.” She says into your hair as she holds you tight, rocking side to side. You no longer feel cold in her arms.

“Hi mom.” You whisper into her shoulder.

She loads your bags and you’re on your way home. It’s freaky being back here, watching the town you used to know like the back of your hand zip by. Like an old friend, your hometown feels familiar but distant.

“So, it’s been a while since you’ve been back.” She says and you hum in response.

At your lack of a response she continues, “What happened with Taeyong was heartbreaking for you I know,” but she doesn’t, she doesn’t even know the half of what truly went down between you two. “but running away like that was— it was hard for us Y/N you have to know.”

You stop following the trees with your eyes as you squeeze them shut at her words. You know you hurt a lot of people by leaving, your family the most. But you don’t really want to hear it, you can’t. Your heart can’t take any more. Coming back was hard enough.

“I know, mom, I do.” You whisper, still avoiding her eyes.

“I have something to tell you.” She says after a beat of silence. You whip your head towards her.

“What is it?” She grips the steering wheel tighter and your heart rate rises.

“Listen, you’re not going to like this but— Y/N, trust me I did my best to avoid this but there’s just so much to do and not enough time to do it. And you both are just sitting around for now. So-“ she babbles and as she goes on and on you groan, interrupting her.

“Mom, please, what is it?”

She lets out a sigh. “The Lee’s are co-hosting the New Years party this year and we need you and Taeyong to work together to pull a couple of things together.”

Your stomach drops and the unmistakable cold feeling from before is back, “Are you joking?”

—

She wasn’t joking.

unknown number: hey i just picked up the rental truck. we need to go pick up the balloon arches. when r u free?

you: who is this?

unknown number: wow.

unknown number: damn.

unknown number: didn’t know u were like that.

you: ????

unknown number: its taeyong.

you: oh.

you: im free at 4.

taeyong: can’t do any sooner? i want to get this over with asap.

you: that disappointed to be around me huh?

taeyong: sorta yeah.

you: fine

you: 3:30

taeyong: see u then

you: see u then :)

taeyong: don’t do that

you: don’t do what

taeyong: whatever

-

Seeing him again for the first time doesn’t hurt the way you thought it would. He had texted you a charming, “here” when he arrived in front of your parents house. It made shameful butterflies dance up your belly when you realized you hadn’t given him your address, but he knew. He remembered.

Being here now, though, those butterflies have disappeared. They burnt to a crisp when the fury began to flame. It began with his blatant ignorance of your presence, not even a hello as you hopped up to the seat in the U-Haul. Then he turned the radio all the way up to drown out the sound of your voice as you attempted to make conversation. The trap music he chose to play to drown you out did the opposite of what you assumed he had expected it to, the thumping bass just frustrating you more as your ears pounded with a growing headache. It doesn’t help that he’s chosen probably the most beat up road to the workshop, the big rental truck absorbing almost none of the shock of the potholes.

The frustration comes to a head at a particularly rough pothole he hit straight on, causing you to nearly hit your head on the roof.

You bumble forward, turning the music all the way down, leaning in his line of sight and shouting, “Do you have to keep doing that?”

He doesn’t respond, just glances at you over the frame of his sunglasses with a scowl. His eyebrow is arched as if to say, “what’s the problem?”

“Hitting the potholes like that, goddammit!” You reply, unfortunately reading the question off the face a little too easily.

He doesn’t respond verbally again, just by rolling his eyes before pushing the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and looking back to the road and turning the music up louder this time.

You lean back into your seat with a humph. There goes that attempt.

–

Where your ability to read Taeyong has seemed to stand the test of time, apparently your teamwork skills have not.

“Goddammit, who knew balloons could be so heavy?” You groan, gripping the heavy steel base of one side of the 7 foot wide balloon arch you’ve just arrived to collect. Your knees are burning and your fingers are sweating so much you’re about to slip your grip. Taeyong, always the gentleman, allowed you the honor of being the party to walk backwards.

Just as you’re wondering the next step, you feel the ground slip out from underneath you as you stumble off a step you hadn’t anticipated being there. You yelp out a puppy like bark in shock, thankfully not dropping the arch.

Taeyong is just as helpful as ever as he bursts out an inappropriate laugh before adopting his straight face again, “Sorry, forgot to tell you there’s a step there.” He says monotone. Your feet are shuffling awkwardly behind you as you attempt to take careful enough steps to not drop the heavy balloon arch on your foot or worse, eat shit and fall on your ass.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” You act coolly in response to his snarky comment, “you were too busy planning our next near suicide mission.” You learned from your past lesson, as you whip your head around trying to navigate your next step. Thankfully, the truck is close.

It takes him a beat to respond as he focuses on his own steps, “What?” he groans out, stopping to allow you to pivot onto the catwalk up to the body of the truck.

“The car drive over.” You stop walking to roll your eyes at him, “You tried to kill us both?” You say just as your ring finger slips out from under the metal base, nearly dropping the balloon arch off the side of the catwalk.

“And you’re still so mad about it you tried to murder the innocent balloon arch.” He snarks, barely allowing you a moment to adjust your grip. You roll your eyes once more and groan, continuing your careful steps backwards.

Once the arch is safely secured in the bed of the truck, you and Taeyong push it off to one side and step back to take a look at the damage. Thankfully, there is none and before you have time to catch your breath he’s looking at you. It’s a blank look that doesn’t last long but it makes another shiver come up your spine.

His hand raises up to your face and before you can ask what for, you realize he’s asking you for a high five. Apparently you’ve been looking at him for too long because he brings his other hand up to clap his own hand and give you an oddly funny look.

A beat passes as you both just look at eachother in the bed of the warm truck, no longer looking at the balloon arch. You aren’t sure what face you’re giving him but if it’s anything like the face he’s giving you, you’d be nervous.

“Let’s go get the second.” He whispers, no attitude or snark this time in his voice.

He’s skipping off the truck before you can analyze what he’s said.

Fuck. Okay. This is gonna be weird.

–

“How’d it go with good ol’ Yong this morning?” Joohyun says as you lie on her sofa, head in her lap. There’s something about time that you just can’t seem to get used to. No matter how much of it passes, you still seem to be just as close with her as before. A part of you wishes the same would be true for Taeyong.

You chuckle a dry laugh, “He tried to murder me.”

Joohyun, the friend you’ve always relied on to understand your humor, replies with just a shrug, “Sounds about right.”

That makes you laugh for the first time since you’ve arrived back as you sit up, choosing instead to set a cheek on her shoulder and direct your focus towards the TV quietly playing a rerun episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. You feel at peace with her here. You didn’t realize how many hearts you had broken with leaving until you came back and saw it on everyone’s face. Joohyun was hurt the most unsurprisingly.

She was a strong girl, choosing boldly to act as coldly as she could to everyone, but you know her better than that. You can read her almost as well as you can read Taeyong. She was never this cold with you before when you lived here, but her attitude now that you’re back is similar to the way she acted around your other friends.

She’s placed a wall up with you. She knows you’re leaving her again so she’s set distance with you. Unsurprisingly, that hurt you the most.

“I have to go pick up champagne with him tomorrow.”

She hums again, patting your head, “Don’t murder him. He’s too handsome to die.”

You bellow a loud laugh and scoff at her, slapping her shoulder as she bursts into giggles.

It’s good to be home with people who make it that way, you think.

–

The liquor store is busy with New Years approaching in just a day. You’ve had to weave in and out of crowds of people and couples. You aren’t sure how you feel being one of the many couples of people in the liquor store, yet probably being the only one of the bunch who’s here as exes being pushed together for errands. Exes who hate each other, at that.

From your left side as you round the corner to another aisle, you hear a chipper voice call out to you both, “Wine tasting for the happy couple?” a smiling salesperson stands with two small plastic cups of red wine in her hands.

“We aren’t a couple.” You say, both sickened by her assumption and a little hurt by having to say it so.

“Oh,” She looks surprised before collecting her composure again, “well, wine tasting for the good friends?”

Taeyong interjects this time, “we aren’t that either.” and your eyes roll again at the attitude in his voice. Why does he feel the need to include the poor saleswoman in this mess by being rude towards her too?

She chuckles awkwardly, a blush creeping on her cheeks and she shrugs, “I’m not quite sure what else to say then.” She admits awkwardly.

“Have a good day, ma’m.” You whisper, pinching Taeyong’s forearm dragging him on.

Thankfully he’s waited until you’re out of her line of sight before reprimanding you for your pinch.

“Fuck was that for?!” He whisper yells at you.

You act on your new favorite habit by rolling your eyes at him, “Do you really need to involve everyone in our mess? It’s bad enough that you and your friends think I’m the devil, I don’t want a random saleslady to hate me too.” You say, folding your arms and pivoting on your heels to face the champagne.

“Oh,” He whispers at your sudden vulnerability, “sorry.”

You don’t respond, a little shell shocked he apologized. If you had allowed yourself to

“This one looks good.” You say instead, picking a pink bottle up.

“What?” He yells out, slapping the back of your hand, “That’s Moet and Chandon, it’s $70 a bottle.”

“And?” You say, picking the bottle up again, “It’s the New Year’s party.”

“No way in hell.” He says, grabbing your wrist this time and directing your hand back to the shelf, “I know you like pink but there’s no way.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at his offensive comment but allow your fingers to loosen around the neck of the bottle.

“This one is good. Half the price too.” He picks up a bottle of Perrier Jouet. “It’s not pink, but I think you’ll survive.”

–

At least you’ve gotten your sweet revenge this time, allowing the salesperson to stack both cases of champagne on top of one another to carry out into the car. You know Taeyong well enough to know he won’t allow himself to appear feminine enough to have you carry the cases.

“A little help? This is really heavy.” He barely musters out once you’re out of earshot of anyone else from the public. His voice is strained.

“Oh! Sure.” You say, pressing the button to release the trunk lock before sliding into the passenger seat of his sedan.

You can hear him struggle behind you as you sit, flipping through radio stations with a smug smile on your face waiting for him.

Yeah, you sigh, revenge is sweet.

–

The next time you see him he seems to have warmed a little to you. You can’t seem to admit it if you've had the same change of heart but it is nice that he’s driving a little easier, visibly swerving out of the way of the potholes as you sit in the U-Haul once again. The jerking back and forth from the swerving is jarring, but you can tell he’s making an effort that you appreciate.

There’s no bickering this time as you get your jobs done quickly to move the many vases of flowers in and out of the shop in record time. Before you know it, only 8 minutes have passed since you’ve arrived. Your previous errands with Taeyong took close to 2 hours a piece. Turns out that you save a lot of time when there’s no fighting involved. Go figure.

“So, uh, see you tonight?” He says as he stops in front of your house. That’s new too, he’s not said a word to you in the car so far since you’ve begun running errands with him.

“I-uh-yeah.” You try and not let the shock show on your face, “of course I’ll be there.”

He nods, avoiding your eyes and you step out of the truck.

–

The party turned out great as you had hoped. At only 9:30 PM the dance floor was crowded with bodies of old and new friends, the liquor was flowing like a river, and the decor spruced up the ballroom nicely. Your parents had been close friends with the Lee’s far before you and Taeyong ever got together, so their ability to work together to pull off the biggest and best party yet isn’t surprising.

Speaking of Taeyong, he’s not here yet it seems. Checking your grandmother’s old watch on your wrist, you notice the time is 11:45, nearly midnight. Though you aren’t sure why you care.

You bought a new dress for the occasion, an intricate embroidered gown with a high cut slit on your leg and a low cut bust. It’s adorned with a white chiffon stitched at the bias to create a beautiful drape over half the bust and to accentuate the skirt of the floor length gown. It’s designer, but from a couple of seasons ago to save a couple bucks. Still expensive, still beautiful. With Joohyun by your side you two make an impressive set with her choosing to go a little more modest with her dress, but still stunning. It’s a simple black gown with one strapped shoulder and an asymmetrical hemline. Her red lipstick and blonde bombshell curls pull the look together.

She’s already a little tipsy, having been one of the first to arrive along with you at 9. She began drinking the moment she realized that very few attractive young people would be attending– resigning to spend her evening down a bottle rather than in someone’s face. She’s giggling into your shoulder the moment you notice he’s walked in.

He didn’t just walk in, he made an entrance. In his head to toe cherry red suit with no undershirt to hide from his solid form, you can’t seem to peel your eyes off of him.

Joohyun gasps just a moment too late and slaps your shoulder repeatedly to get your attention, “Look! Look!” she whispers, pointing in his direction. You frown and grab her wrist, pulling her hand down.

“What is it?” you say and she blushes before giggling again.

“He’s hot!” she bursts into a loud bellow that catches the attention of the people around you over the loud music.

Her laugh caught someone else’s attention too, and you aren’t sure if you’re relieved, happy, or terrified that he’s walking over.

“What’s so funny?” He asks Joohyun who composes herself quite quickly, adorning her signature blank stare the moment she realized that someone has caught her outside of her regular composure.

“Hi, Taeyong.” You say in an attempt to distract from Joohyun, who has let her mask slip again once more to trail her eyes down Taeyong’s chest.

His eyes flicker to yours, then down at your dress, then up at you. “H-Hi, Y/N.” He stutters, and for the first time you can’t read it. You aren’t sure if he’s shy or still feeling the awkwardness from before.

Not a moment too soon, the song changes to a slower beat. A 90’s romance song your parents played for you all the time. It’s a cheesy song, but brings a small smile to your face as you recognize the electric guitar intro. Flashes of watching your dad twirl your mother around your home to this song flare behind your eyes, the sound of her laughter at his romance in your ears. Taeyong notices and remarks,

“You know this one?” his eyebrow raises at you.

You chuckle before replying, “Yeah, my parents played it all the time dancing around the living room together.”

Taeyong’s face flashes an emotion you can read too well as he breaks eye contact before coming back to you again. “Well,” his hand comes up, reaching out to you, “care to dance?”

You aren’t quite sure what to say. You know that this is the man that hated you so much you left town to never have to see him again, but that you also once upon a time was so desperately in love with this man that there wasn’t a thing on planet Earth that you wouldn’t have done for him.

The man who believed the first rumor he heard about you is the same man in front of you now asking you to dance.

You smile, nod, and grab his hand. As he’s leading you out to the floor, you accept that you’ll deal with consequences later.

It feels like warm fire when his hand lands on the small of your back to pull you in closer to sway to the beat. The butterflies have awoken, flurrying around as you dance. You aren’t quite sure how your feelings about Taeyong will catch up to the new infatuation you’ve seemed to grow for him, but you’ll just excuse it as nostalgia.

It’s not all perfect, he’s a little stiff and your moves are slightly awkward. In many ways, you and Taeyong used to be completely and perfectly compatible, but time has not been a friend to you two. With one, two, three slight steps on his toes he groans and leans back to stare at you in disbelief.

This is the first time he’s looking at you with disdain, but you can tell his heart isn’t behind it. You giggle, leaning slightly into him as you let out a sorry through your giggles.

“What ever shall I do with you, huh?” He says, pulling you in closer and placing his cheek on the side of your head. You giggle more, letting go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. He does the same and holds you close with his hands on your hips. Now you’ve fallen into more of a sway than an official dance but you don’t care, he doesn’t seem to either.

It’s familiar yet strange being here and being held like this by him. You feel like crying at how much you missed being held by him, but also feel like running away when you remember what caused you to leave. You’re conflicted, two sides of your being at war with one another.

So you decide to do something about it, “Why did you act that way?” you speak softly into his shoulder, your heart rate beginning to rise at the implication that you’ve done it. You’ve officially opened the old wound, and you’re not quite sure what blood will flow out of it.

“Act what way?” He asks, and it’s a good question. Taeyong’s behavior isn’t something that he’s necessarily proud of, so he’d like to know which of his transgressions you’re referring to.

“Three years ago. When we broke up. Why did you yell like that?” You lean back to look him in the eye at the last sentence. He can see the heartbreak behind your eyes but wishes he couldn’t. He’s crumbling, speechless, and for some reason, scared.

“Come on.” He grabs your hand after a beat and leads you out to the deserted smokers balcony. It’s chilly outside and your dress doesn’t cover much, but it’s a beautiful evening. The Christmas lights on the banister twinkle offering some low lighting as you stare at him. You lean into the rail and look out to the night sky. You’ve always appreciated nighttime for its quiet peacefulness you can’t seem to find anywhere else.

You wish you were calm, but you aren’t. Your heart rate is going a mile a minute at the awareness of what is about to happen. A part of you regrets that you even began this conversation, but you quickly forgive yourself. You need this, and by the look on his face he might need this too.

“Look, I don’t know what’s happening here.” He says after a moment.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs and looks away from you, “I was planning on avoiding you this entire time. I knew you were coming back and I knew we’d have to work together but I wanted to avoid this exact conversation.”

You don’t speak and he continues, “You broke my heart.”

That gave you whiplash, “wait,” you feel the familiar fury heat up in your belly, “I broke your heart? You’re the one who left me.”

His head whips around to look at you, frown set deep in his brow as he raises his voice slightly, “You cheated on me!”

You scoff, “There you go again with the cheating story. No I didn’t!”

He makes an attempt to interrupt you, but you raise your voice and stop him, “No, it’s my turn to speak.” He lowers his hand and shuts his mouth, looking at you shamefully.

“I did not cheat on you. That was a malicious and baseless rumor started by someone who wanted me but couldn’t because I was with you and was faithful to you. And if you had made any effort to investigate the rumor you would have realized that the day he claims we slept together I was with you.”

Now Taeyong really looks shameful, jaw dropping slightly and a blush creeping up on his cheek. He doesn’t try to speak so you keep on your rant, finally free to speak your mind and your heart from 3 years ago.

“You didn’t trust me. You believed the first rumor you heard from a random person about me and ended what we had because of it. We were so good together and you ruined it. I didn’t do anything but sit there. You don’t like this mess we’re in now?” You scoff, standing up from the railing and walk towards the door, “Well too bad. You made your bed, lie in it.”

“Y/N, wait.” He scrambles and grabs your wrist, pulling you back into him. He looks desperate and embarrassed, a look you haven’t seen on him in years.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers out after a beat with sincere eyes. Something changed then, you’re not sure how. The flames from before have simmered as you stand, still as a statue. You aren’t at peace, but you do feel more relaxed.

“I’m sorry, I was insecure and scared because I had never loved someone the way I loved you. I never should have believed him but I was so scared, like the most terrified I had ever been in my life. So I blew up on you without thinking. I regretted it the moment after it was done but you were already gone.”

Your heart softens at his words. He had betrayed you, that wasn’t a secret. But he’s here now, offering his penance. You aren’t sure if you want to accept, but hearing his apology truly helps.

“Spending time with you over these last couple of days have been so weird because I wanted to hate you for what you did,, but for some reason it just felt right being with you again.” You whisper, catching his eye in a glance.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, stepping in closer to you, “me too.”

The air is thick between you both as you stand avoiding each other's eyes. It’s awkward but not how it used to be. Now it feels more like something new is beginning that you don’t know how to handle. It’s exciting but extremely nerve wracking. Do you forgive him? Do you want him?

“Look, Y/N,” He turns to you and grabs your hands in his. You gasp, eyes widening and heart rate rising as you stare down at your intertwined fingers. Tiny sparks shoot up your arms to make your heart beat faster as he stands toe to toe with you.

“I want this.” He says and you look up into his eyes finally with a confused look on your face.

“I didn’t know it until now but I do, I want you back.” He says and your heart beats at a mile a minute.

You stand, stunned and confused– too lost in your own head and in the stars in his eyes as you hear the roaring hum of the crowd indoors counting down 10… 9… 8…

You look down at your hands again tied with his and up at his face as he stands and stares with pleading eyes you can read too well.

7… 6… 5…

You realize he means it, and that you want him back too. A smile spreads on your face.

4… 3… 2…

“Me too.”

1.

Before you know it, your lips are crashing together. The sparks from before are child's play compared to the fireworks you feel spread through your whole body as your arms fling around his shoulders to pull him close. He grabs you by your waist and pulls you in close, closer, closest as your lips slowly move together under the fireworks flashing in the sky and the cheers of those indoors ringing in the New Year.

You lean back, nose red from the friction and stare at his own starstruck face and giggle out a laugh that only comes when in the arms of your lover. He laughs back at you and everything feels alright.

“Happy New Year.” He says into your hair before you move your head to stare up at the fireworks still shooting off in the sky.

“Happy New Year.” you whisper back.

You two stand there under the glittering sky in your own private world with no thoughts of the past or the future, just your hearts beating with contentment in the present.