#now popping up every two scrolls is maddening

[phantomsies]

yeah idk if this writing shit is for me anymore lmao.

[minisugakoobies]

two am | yjh

Pairing: Jeonghan x GNReader (afab)

Genre: smut, angst, porn with the barest of plot, exes to lovers, non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: late night texting, excessive use of the pet name 'baby,' fighting as foreplay, dirty talk, multiple references to reader's pussy, implied/referenced cheating, references to oral sex (reader receiving), slight exhibitionism, riding/grinding, nipple play (licking/biting/sucking), p in v protected sex, Jeonghan is bad for reader but they can't stay away

Word Count: 1.6k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: It's two am and your ex is texting you again.

Text Prompts: Both are in italicized pink font in the story.

A/N: I'm back with another installment in my SVT texts series. This one is dedicated to @minttangerines. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUCE!! 🎉🎉 I brought you some toxic Jeonghan, hope you like him. 💜 Thank you for being such an amazing friend, tour guide, driver, and partner in crime. 😘

Soundtrack: 2AM by SZA; Sleazy Bed Track by the Bluetones

Unbeta’d as usual. If you like this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) ��

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

It’s nearly two in the morning when the warning pops up on your phone:

Cover your phone, explicit material coming your way

You barely have the time to excuse yourself from the table, heading in a panic towards the bathroom, before the next text from your ex arrives.

Jeonghan never includes his full face in his photos. It’s always just that maddening smirk of his, catching your eye first before it’s drawn down to the main focus - thin fingers wrapped around an obscene bulge, a darkened tip poking above the waistband of his boxers. 

You lock yourself in a stall and fire back.

You: You have to stop sending me these photos

Satan: That’s a rude way to say thank you

You: I’m serious, Jeonghan. We’re done

He doesn’t reply. You know better than to think he’s accepted your response. He’s refused to accept it for the last three months. 

Your phone chimes. Another photo. The boxers have been pulled down. You bite your lip, then catch yourself, snarling at your reflection on your screen.

You: I said stop!

Satan: That’s what you say now, but we both know that’s not what you’ll be saying later

You: There won’t be a later

You: Not this time

Satan: Really? You gonna tell me you don’t miss this cock?

Satan: That your pussy’s not already dripping imagining it inside you?

It’s the anger his words stir in you that’s making your pulse pound right now, you tell yourself.

You almost believe it. 

Satan: Come over, baby. Wanna make a mess of you like I did last time

You: Not. Happening.

Satan: You out with your friends again tonight? 

Of course he knows where you are. You’ve been going out with your friends every week since the breakup. Tonight’s the first night in a while that you’re sober, not in the mood to drink. This conversation is making you regret that. 

You: What does it matter if I am?

Satan: It’s almost closing time. Think you can find someone to take home?

Satan: Someone to make you forget about me? About how I fuck you?

Satan: You know no one can make you cum like me

To think his confidence is what once drew you to him. Now it repulses you, almost as much as your thighs suddenly clenching together does. 

You: You’re unreal

Satan: That’s right

You: That’s not a compliment

Satan: I know what you want

You: What I want is for you to fuck off forever

Satan: Baby please. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy this

Satan: You can block me anytime you want. But you don’t

Satan: Why do you think that is?

You could answer him. Argue for a while, like you always do. Like you always did. It was the thing that the two of you did best - second only to fucking. You scroll upthread, looking at the last time you fought, reminding yourself how it ended:

Satan: Don’t tell me what to do

You: Eat me out

Satan: Okay tell me what to do

It’s not in your phone what happened next, but it’s seared into your memory, replaying behind your eyelids - lying on Jeonghan’s bed, legs splayed while he puts his wicked mouth to its best use. 

But you also remember the come down. The anger at your weakness. The shame. Knowing nothing has changed. That he hasn’t changed.  

You keep scrolling back, seeing the same thing over and over, watching the pattern repeat. You could stop it right now - end the conversation, delete him from your phone, and go rejoin your friends. That would be the smart thing to do. 

Satan: It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to admit it

Satan: Just come over and show me

If only you were smart.

“Mmmphm!”

The hem of your shirt makes a terrible gag, doing nothing to keep your volume down. Jeonghan’s head snaps up, gaze torn away from where he was watching himself disappear into you.

“Quiet, baby. Do you want them to hear you?” 

The “them” in question are his roommates, Joshua and Seungcheol, who are both sleeping on the other sides of the walls. Jeonghan would be sleeping in one of those bedrooms, too, if he wasn’t out here fucking you on the couch. Or, rather, sitting back and looking smug while you ride him on the couch. 

He knows you don’t want anyone to hear you, so you don’t bother to answer him, just glare while stuffing more of the already spit-soaked material into your mouth. His roommates would judge you for being here. Just like your friends did earlier, when you told them you were leaving. You said you were tired, but they’ve noticed your pattern too. And they’ve stopped trying to get you to break it, unwilling to expend their energy on such an impossible task. 

That’s fine. You don’t need to drag anyone else down to the bottom with you.

Jeonghan runs his fingertips over the exposed skin of your stomach, chuckling when you shiver. 

“Always so sensitive,” he tuts, shaking his head. 

He cups your breasts with his warm hands, pushing your shirt up further until the chilly night air hits your nipples, then bends his head down enough to lightly graze one with his teeth. You gasp, nearly dropping your impromptu gag, and Jeonghan pauses with his lips near your other tit, looking up at you, saying nothing, but his eyes communicate so clearly what he’s thinking - Be good, baby. 

If your relationship was a song, that was his refrain:

Be good, baby, I have to work late this weekend.

Be good, baby, I’m going out for drinks with some coworkers.

Baby, she’s just a friend. Don’t worry. Be good for me.

Despite everything, a part of you still yearns to be good for him. So you bite down harder. 

Jeonghan hums in approval. His mouth latches onto your other nipple, sucking lewdly, not much quieter than your whining has been. Hypocrite. You close your eyes, trying to shut out your loud as fuck thoughts and focus on the wet warmth of his tongue as it laves over and around your nipple a few times, in broad, messy strokes.

You arch into him, lacing your fingers through his hair to try to hold him in place. But like always, he can’t be tamed, lifting his head to smirk at you. You whimper, and he smiles harder, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you to his hungry mouth. You eagerly lean forward as your shirt falls from your jaw. 

Jeonghan’s kisses overwhelm your senses until you’re drowning in him. His tongue glides like honey, thick and slow, melting over yours, and you groan, grinding on him slowly.

This is what you needed. Even after all that went down, all the lies, all the tears, you still crave him, body and soul. If this is the only way that you can have him, this two a.m. interlude, then you’ll take every second you can, ignoring the little voice whispering that you’ll regret them all.

“That’s it, just like that.” Jeonghan looks down again, mesmerized by the smooth roll of your hips. His fingers sink into the flesh of your ass, hard enough that you know you’ll still feel his touch tomorrow. “Fuck yes, baby, ride it.” 

He guides you up and down his shaft, the wet sounds of your cunt sliding over him embarrassingly loud in the still room, and you let him control the pace, all your concentration on his lips - kissing them, nibbling them, sucking on them one by one. Trying desperately to get your fill of them, of him, because this is it. This is the last time. You swear it. 

Maybe this time, it will stick.

Jeonghan’s thumb rolls over your clit, making you gasp into his mouth. He does it again, and again, and just like that you’re falling apart, body singing electric as he lights up your nervous system with his touch. He keeps thrusting up into you, taking control again as you tremble above him, and you know he’s reaching his crest, the familiar signs too obvious to miss. He drops his head, muttering an endless stream of ‘fuck’s and ‘baby’s in that choked voice of his, and then his hands lock your hips in place, as deep as he can get as he fills the condom he wears.

It’s always intense, this moment, when it comes. The two of you, breathing heavy and spent, clinging to each other as you ride out the waves, like you’re hanging on for dear life. Or maybe that’s just you. Because you know that once the high is gone…

“Knew this pussy missed me.”

…the lows return.

Jeonghan laughs when you push yourself off his chest. He pinches your ass cheek for good measure, and you scowl, scrambling to climb out of his lap as quickly as you can, which is pretty difficult given your loose limbs. 

“Don’t say that.” 

Jeonghan watches with simmering amusement as you dress hastily, fumbling with your bra to the point that you nearly decide to leave it. “But it’s true.” 

“No, it’s not, and besides, it’s fucking gross when you talk like that. Like I’m not a person or something.” 

“Whatever.” He’s already losing interest, reaching for his phone. No need to argue anymore. He got his. 

You can’t get your clothes on fast enough. “Stop sending me photos. Don’t text me again.” 

You might as well be talking to the couch. He hums mechanically, scrolling away. “Lock the door on your way out.”

In the elevator, your finger hovers in its usual spot over the delete button. 

A chime. Jeonghan’s mouth, tongue extending between the peace sign he’s flashing, followed by four words: Sweet dreams, baby. 

You slip your phone back into your pocket as you descend.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[connordavidscamera]

Love Will Remember | Connor Brashier x OC

Crumble to Pieces Part 2 

A/n: this took a lot longer than I expected, but my vision for it kept changing

Summary: Luca and Connor meet up for the first time since the breakup

Warnings: I think it’s a tiny bit angsty

Word count: 5.8k

***

Pop Singer Luca Has Moved On… To Her Ex's Best Friend?

Has Luca moved "onto the next one?" Recent sightings in LA with a fellow celebrity are telling us yes.

Written by: Another Know-it-all reporter

It's no secret that Luca and Shawn Mendes have been close friends for years. Luca opened for Mendes on his 2019, self-titled tour and since then the two have been closer than ever. 

But are they just friends or are they more?

With recent news of Luca's breakup from ex-boyfriend, Connor Brashier, fans are speculating that Shawn Mendes might be the reason. The two have been spotted all over LA together in the past few weeks. Sources say that they've even been caught holding hands.

"Shawn and Luca have always been close," a source close to the pair tells us. But if that's the case, is Shawn really the reason for Luca's breakup? The "Summer of Love" singer has said on numerous occasions that he wants love that is built on a friendship, and what closer friendship than the one that these two share.

About Mendes, pop singer Luca says, "He's one of the greatest people I know. I am very lucky to have him in my life."

We're not saying it's true, but signs point to yes. These two are the new hottest couple in the industry and we couldn't be happier for them.

"Are they serious?" I shake my head. "They take one out of context sentence from an old interview and that's confirmation that we're dating?" I throw my head back in frustration, "I haven't even come out and said hey everyone the love of my life and I are broken up, and they’re pulling shit like this."

Shawn shrugs, "Well, I mean… it has been over six months. People just put two and two together."

"How are you okay with this?" I hand him his phone back. “The whole world thinks we’re dating.”

"No one said I was okay with it. I especially don’t want Connor reading this and thinking we're together. I would never do that to him."

I cross my arms and lean against the arm of the couch. "Yeah, me neither. That's why it's maddening. I mean, fuck. I don't even get to cope with my breakup. I'm still finding things around the house that remind me of him. im. And these tabloids just love to add fuel to the fire.”

“You still have some of his stuff?”

I scoff and look down, picking at my chipped nail polish. “I never gave anything back. I was holding out hope that we’d be back together by now. I just, I had my friend collect all of his stuff and put it in a box, hide it in a closet so I didn’t see it right when I got home.”

Shawn sighs, “Luc, I’m sorry this is happening.”

I suck in a breath, “It’s fine. I just thought I’d be over it by now. And I’m not, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be until I am. Every news outlet will assume that any guy I hang out with is my new boyfriend until I confirm something. But I’m not confirming anything.”

“I know.” He reaches over and pats the back of my hand. “Come on, get your cute butt back in the studio. Let’s record this and get our minds off it.”

I nod, “Alright, sure.”

—

“Con, we’re best friends, right?”

I sit up straight. “I don’t like that question, Sam. What is it? What do you need to tell me?”

He clears his throat, “Well, you know Luca.”

I suck in a breath at the sound of her name. It still hasn’t gotten that much better when I hear about her. I know it’s been  more than enough time to get over it, but I can’t. I made a huge mistake and I have to live with that. “Yes. I do.”

“Well, she texted me the other day. Actually we’ve been texting quite a bit the past few weeks and-”

“Get to the point, Sammy boy.”

“She asked me to shoot her cover photo for her new single.”

“New single, huh? Okay,” I nod. “That’s nice. When?”

“On Friday.”

“Okay,” I grab my phone and start scrolling through my email. I don’t actually have anything to look for, I just need something to do so I seem like this doesn’t affect me. Which it doesn’t. It shouldn’t. I don’t know.

“Do you… do you maybe want to go? You can help me out?”

I clear my throat. I want to go. God, I want to see her so badly. “I don’t think she wants me there,” I tell him.

“I could ask her.”

I shake my head, “No. Don’t. I can… I can show up for a little bit, I guess. Maybe toward the end just so I don’t make her uncomfortable, you know.”

“I think she’d want to see you.”

I shrug, “Maybe. I just… I think I need to see her.”

“Maybe it will help you out. Give you that closure you’ve been looking for.”

Or it will torment me even further, reminding me that, yes, I did make the biggest mistake of my life letting her go. And while I don’t need a reminder, I 100% need to see her in person. If I don’t, I might just lose my mind.

“Yeah, it might,” I agree anyway. I don’t believe it because I’m not trying to get closure, I’m trying to get Luca. I don’t really know how you get back the girl whose heart you broke, but guys do it all the time, maybe  I can too.

 I change my shirt a total of eight times before settling on the shirt I began with. I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life. Not even on our first date. I wore a white button up that night, but it wasn’t buttoned all the way - she loved it, lazily traced my collar bones while we waited for our Uber, hiding in the back of the restaurant so no one saw us. 

Today I wear that same shirt, in hopes that she’ll see me in it and… what? Immediately fall into my arms and take me back? Well, in a dream world, yes. In this world, I just hope she doesn’t leave immediately after seeing me. That would be a win in itself.

I check my phone to see that Sam’s assistant texted me three minutes ago, telling me that they’re eating now and are about to set up for the last shoot. 

I send them back a thumbs up emoji and grab my keys from the counter. “I’m heading out!” I call out to Will, who’s sprawled out on the couch, watching a baseball game.

He doesn’t say anything back, not that I really expect him to. The whole drive there I’m nervous. It’s a drive I’ve taken a million times before, but today is different. Today I’m going there with the sole intention of seeing my ex-girlfriend. Huh, I don’t know if I’ve actually ever said that. I don’t really refer to her much anymore, I guess. In my mind she’s still Luca. My Luca. But I guess, she’s not that anymore either. At least not right now. That doesn’t mean she won’t be again. 

I’m sitting outside Sam’s place for ten minutes, maybe when I get another text from his assistant. 

Starting the last shoot now. 

I sigh. I have to do this. I don’t have to stay long, I just have to see her, even if it’s only for a second. I wait five minutes after reading that text to finally get out of the car. I walk right in. Sam always leaves his door unlocked, especially when he’s doing a shoot because there’s a lot of back and forth, it’s just easier for everyone. That’s why no one even bats an eye when I walk through the door. 

The first person I see is Luca’s hair stylist and makeup artist, Gwen. She’s just a few years older than us and she’s been with Luca since the very beginning. When I see her,I feign surprise and offer a small wave but she gasps and immediately comes over, wrapping me in a hug. “Oh my god!” she whispers. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you doing?”

I force a tight lipped smile, “I’m okay. How are you?”

“I’m good. I’m good. But, what are you doing here? I thought you two -”

“We did. I just… Sam asked me to stop by. I didn’t even know you were here.” And for good measure. “Why are you here actually?”

Her smile falters just a smidge. “Sam’s doing Luca’s cover shoot,” she says slowly, as if trying to break the news to me softly. 

“Oh,” I nod. “Oh, so she’s here?”

Gwen nods, “Oh, honey, this must be so hard for you.”

I clear my throat, “It’s good to see you Gwen. I’m gonna see what Sam needed and I’ll get out of here.”

She nods, that look still on her face. I’m familiar with the look. It’s the one that everyone has been giving me since the breakup, that look that says “Oh, you poor thing.”

I’m sick of that look.

I leave her with one last smile and head toward the back of the house where Sam has set up his studio. I pass by a couple other people on Luca’s team, but I’m so grateful when I don’t see Derek there. I’m sure he’d tell me to leave, which he has every right to because I know I messed up. I know that this breakup has been hell for him to try to spin, especially because I know Luca told him to not confirm or deny anything. And when she sets her mind to something, there’s no going back. So he’s probably having a hell of a time not doing anything about the dating rumors. 

They’re rumors. I know they are. Shawn’s told me a hundred times that they’re rumors. And he’s told me a hundred more that they’re just working on music together. I wonder if he helped with the song she’s putting out. 

Sam is busy, obviously, when I come into his studio, so I say quiet hellos to a couple of our friends that are there helping with the shoot. I’ve just walked to the far side of the room, opposite of where I just walked in when I see her for the first time. She’s laying down on her back, on the mattress that Sam’s assistant had most likely pulled in here. She has one of Sam’s vintage polaroids in her hands, another one is laying beside her head. She looks beautiful, as always. Her hair is fanned out around her head. I don’t see much makeup on her face, although she’s never really been one to wear a lot unless she was going on a red carpet. 

Everytime she had a new eyeshadow look, I would stare at her in awe because it wasn’t normal for her, but it looked great on her. I mean, she always looks great, but the heavier eyeshadow gave her a certain confidence that she didn’t carry with her on a day to day basis. It was like a suit of armor, meant to shield her from whatever was to come that night - I think it worked. She wasn’t wearing it the night we broke up, I wonder if it would have made a difference.

She hasn’t spotted me yet, but everyone’s eyes are on me now as mine are on her. Her eyes finally catch me when Sam has her change positions. And when they do, I feel like all the air in my lungs has been knocked out of me. Because yes, she looks beautiful, but holy shit, this is the woman that I love. The woman I haven’t seen for over six months. The woman I completely broke when I walked out on her like a coward. And the woman who still holds my heart in those delicate hands of hers. 

“Connor,” she says softly, almost like she’s scared of speaking too loudly, or she’s scared that someone might hear her. But everyone does, because everyone is watching us. 

“Hey, superstar,” I say back just as quietly, my hands in my pockets. 

“Uh,” she sits up, her eyes still on me as she does so. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing as me, that if she blinks I might disappear. I don’t think I’ve blinked since I stepped in the room. “Sam, can you help me up?”

“Yeah, you got it,” he says, holding his hand out to Luca, helping her stand. 

I’m watching her every move as she comes closer. She stops about two feet in front of me. “Hi,” she says gently.

I smile at her, “Hi.”

“Um,” she takes a final step forward and holds her arms open. 

I immediately reciprocate, wrapping my arms around her. Neither of us say anything while in each other’s arms, but the hug alone says so much. It’s like making up for lost time. She smells the same. Coconut shampoo with that hint of vanilla from her perfume she always wears. She was never one for floral scents. She associates them with the old ladies that used to work in the front office of her school. 

I squeeze her a little tighter before we let go. “You, you look good. You cut your hair,” she says.

Instinctively my hand reaches up for it. “Oh, yeah. A couple weeks ago, actually. It was getting a little shaggy.”

She nods, “I like it.”

“Thanks,” I clear my throat. “And, you dyed your hair,” I say, referring to the lighter ends of her hair. 

“Yeah,” she nods, playing with the tips of it. “I figured it was time for something new,” she shrugs. “Was considering bangs.”

“Bangs?” I hum, “Bangs would look good on you. You have the face for it. I mean, you have the face for anything.”

She nods, “That’s what you’ve always told me.” She looks down, tangling her fingers together like she always does when she’s nervous. “What - what are you doing here?” she asks. 

“Uh,” I look around to see everyone still staring at us. “Can we,” I tilt my head toward the glass door beside us and she nods. I send a threatening glare to everyone in the room when I shut the door behind us, but it doesn’t deter them from keeping a close eye on us. “Don’t be mad, but Sam told me that you would be here. And I,” I shrug. “I know I don’t really have any right, but I had to see you. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll leave. I just had to see you in person.”

“I’ve been wanting to call,” she tells me.

“Me too. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“I didn’t for a while. I - I was hurt and I knew that talking to you would only make it hurt more. It was a double edged sword because while I was hurting the only person I wanted to talk to was you and I couldn’t do that.”

I nod solemnly. “I know. Same here.”

Neither of us say anything for a couple minutes, but I have to break the silence. 

“I miss you.”

She sighs, shaking her head, “Brash, you can’t just say that to me. You broke up with me.”

“I know, and I’ve regretted it every second of every day since.”

“Then why did you do it? Why couldn’t you wait six more weeks so we could be back home and we could work on fixing the problem rather than causing a much bigger one?”

“Because I thought giving us time apart would help. We were fighting all the time and I knew that was stressful for you, so I thought if we took a break for that last stretch of the tour, we could come back home and we could sit down and work it out. But then I got too scared to call, and at that point it felt like it was too late to. Then Shawn hit me up with the whole It’ll be Okay song and… you used that piano melody that you told me you were holding onto for a love song.” I shake my head, “I left because I was a coward, Luc. And I’m not gonna stand here and act like I wasn’t. Or stand here and pretend that I haven’t thought of you every single day since that night.”

She furrows her brows, “You knew that the fighting was stressing me out so you broke up with me instead? How does that make sense in your mind? I was fucking devastated those last few weeks of tow. I could barely get out of bed in the morning, let alone get out there on stage and perform as if nothing happened. I cried during my performance almost every single night.”

“I know - well, I mean, I didn’t know that. But I know that what I did is inexcusable. I can’t even tell you that the reason I did it was good because we know it wasn’t. And I had every intention of calling you -”

“But you didn’t. Meaning to do something and doing them are totally different, Connor. You, of all people, should know that.”

I sigh, “You’re right,” I nod. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. For everything that’s happened. For everything that I’ve put you through. I’m sorry I left.  I’m sorry I pushed you away when really all I wanted to do was hold on for dear life. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Luca crosses her arms, “No, I really didn’t.”

We are once again engulfed in silence, and I know we’re both painfully aware of the people in the room behind us watching our every move, trying like hell to read our lips. 

“I wanted to hate you,” she says quietly, shaking her head. It stings a bit. “I wanted so badly to hate you for what you did. And for a split second, I was almost able to convince myself that I did. But,” she looks out at the trees that occupy most of Sam’s property. “I could literally never hate you. No matter how angry I was with you, I couldn’t.”

“I want to fix things,” I tell her, turning my body to face hers. 

She turns her head to look at me. “What if we can’t?”

“I want to try. I want to get back to how things were. I don’t know if we can get there, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try my hardest to get us there. We were happy once. I believe we can be again.”

She nods slowly, “I want to try. But it’ll take me a while to trust you again. We can’t - you can’t just run at the first sign of trouble.”

I nod quickly, “I know. And I’ll work on it. If you let me, I want to work on this with you because I can’t see myself with anyone else but you. I need - I need to at least try to salvage what we had.”

Luca exhales deeply, pushing her hair out of her face before crossing her arms again, her body now facing the large window looking into the room of our friends and her team. “Okay, so let’s say we do this. We start over. We have to start from the beginning. Relearning how to be with each other. It’s not something we can just jump back into. I want to get to know you again.”

I nod. “Okay, sure. That’s not a problem. We can do that.”

“And… if this works and we are able to make our way back to each other. If it feels right for us then you have to ask me out again. We can’t celebrate three years in a couple months because we’ve spent so much time apart.”

“That makes sense,” I breathe deeply. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, one thing. And this one is really important.”

“Anything,” I tell her, and I mean it. I will give her anything that she wants, anything that she needs. 

“When things get hard, don’t run away from me.”

I nod vigorously. “I won’t. I won’t, I promise.”

“Okay.”

Another silence. “Well, then I guess I should go. Let you finish up here.”

“No,” she shakes her head, reaching for my hand. “Please don’t. Stay. We can… talk more after. And I want to show you the new song. It’s, well it’s about you.”

“Okay,” I nod. I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of that, but I don’t know what else to do. From inside, I probably look like a fucking bobblehead. “Then let’s go back in so you can finish up.”

I thought I heard his voice when he walked in, but I told myself that I was just imagining it. I didn’t think that when I looked up he'd actually be there, looking as good as ever. Well, for the most part. He had deep dark circles, which makes me wonder how much sleep he’s actually getting. He’s always been a hard worker, but sometimes that meant he was working himself too hard and well into the night. There were many instances in our relationship that I ended up sleeping with him on the couch  because that’s where he fell asleep.

He’s wearing the shirt he wore on our first date. I know it’s just a plain white button up to anyone else, but that was the shirt he wore the night I realized that I was going to fall in love with him. And the second I saw him, I knew that when I got close enough, I would see that tiny stain of my red lipstick on the collar from one of the times he wore it to an award show with me. 

And when I hug him, it’s confirmed. He’s also wearing my favorite cologne, the one that has the undertones of sea salt. It was kind of like a dupe for some YSL cologne he had owned once. We bought it together on one of our outings while we were touring with Shawn. It was on one of those days between shows where we could go out and do whatever. He, Shawn, Brian, Mae, and I had all gone out together. We found this tiny shop that made a scent for you, like right in front of you. I thought it was so cool and we both got scents made. 

I wanted to cry when I hugged him. His hugs still felt the same. Like coming home. I don’t know what stopped me from wrapping my entire body around him and never letting go. Maybe it was the nine other people in the room staring at us, watching our every last move. I hated being watched. And I was bitterly aware of them still staring while Connor and I stood outside to talk. 

I held it together a lot better than I thought I would. In all those nights I had spent imagining what I would do when I did finally see him again (because let’s face it, it was inevitable. We have mutual friends. I mean, one of my best friends in the world is literally his boss. And his best friend is one of my go to photographers. We’re bound to cross paths despite how much we’ve both been actively avoiding it.) I didn’t think that my first instinctual feeling would be longing.

I thought it would be anger. I wanted to be mad at him. Since that night I have wanted to be mad at him, and sometimes I was. But the feeling never lasted like I’m sure it was supposed to. 

And maybe I gave in too easily outside. And people might call me crazy, and maybe they’re right. All I know is that the moment I saw him, my world no longer felt like it was tilted a little too hard to the left. We locked eyes and I swear I felt my broken heart start to mend instantly. Because no matter what’s happened. He’s still Connor. My Connor. 

He’s still the man who stayed up with me all night when I had the stomach flu and I couldn’t stop vomiting. He’s the man who emptied out a drawer for me when I came to visit him for a week when we were doing long distance after Shawn’s tour. He’s the man who uprooted most of his life to live in Toronto with me before my tour started (not permanently, but we were discussing that before the fallout). And he’s the man standing in front of me now who is making me nervous like he did the first time I met him three years ago. 

I remember just about every detail of that day. It was early March and it was uncharacteristically cold for the time of day, about two in the afternoon. Shawn and his team were leaving from LA to Amsterdam, where our tour would start. My team was leaving from Toronto and we’d make it there around the same time. When we met at the airport, Connor was the first person that I saw after Shawn. Not because he was standing close, but because he was cute. I was always a sucker for that kind of dirty blond hair and the way his kind of stuck up from all the gel he had in it was adorable. 

He looked so much younger then, I thought he was younger than me. Come to find out, he was actually two months older. I won’t say it was love at first sight, I will say though, that the moment I met him, I knew he would be important in my life. I just didn’t know in what way. His laugh, in the span of only a couple of hours, quickly became my favorite sound in the world. I wanted to hear it all day, see that big toothy grin that he didn’t give so freely, but he did when we were introduced. 

Honestly, when I look back to that day, I wonder just how smitten I must have looked. Because while I don’t believe in love at first sight, I think that was about as close to it as it could have been. 

It’s easy to think about those things when he’s standing there in the corner of the room, looking at me in the same way he always has. I’ve never seen that look given to anyone else but me and that warms my heart a bit, knowing that even after all this time apart, he can still somehow look at me like that. And I’m sure I’m looking at him just the same, and the photos that Sam’s taking will definitely prove it too. 

“Alright, last frame,” Sam says, and I look up at where he’s standing above me. I know before he’s even taken the photo that this one will be the cover art for the single. “Perfect! That’s a wrap,” he tells his team, holding a hand out to me to once again help me up. “Here, let’s see what we got. I think we have some really good ones.”

I nod, but I’m not really looking at the photos, my senses are taken over by the proximity of Connor. He’s moved closer now, also looking over the photos, even going as far as to point out some of the things that he likes. 

We both point at the last frame though, “That one,” we say at the same time. 

“You like it for the cover art?” Sam asks, looking between both of us.

I nod, “Yes. It’s perfect.”

“Well alright, I’ll do a little bit of editing for it and have it for you tomorrow at the latest.”

“Yeah? Perfect! Thanks, Sammy!” I wrap him in a hug, kissing his cheek quickly.

“Yeah, yeah. Get your cute ass out of here. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

I laugh at that and pat his shoulder. “Let me buy you dinner tonight.”

“Oh please, like I’m gonna let you pay for anything.”

“Come on! Please! Please, please, please, please, please, please.”

“She’ll keep going if you don’t say yes,” Connor tells him.

Sam groans dramatically, “Fine. I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

“Yay!” I look back to Connor. “You’re coming too.”

“You want me there?”

I nod, “Yes. That’s why I’m inviting you. I mean… if you want to go. You don’t have to if you don’t want-”

“No, no, no. I want to go. I do.” he nods frantically. “Thank you.”

I busy myself with helping my team pack up their stuff, but tell them I’ll be staying a while. When all of their things are packed up and in the van, I thank them and go back inside. Sam and Connor are standing in the kitchen, like any normal day - like it had been a million times before. Of course, it’s difficult to not address the elephant in the room. The elephant being me and our breakup. 

If it were any normal day with Sam, I would go over to stand with Connor and maybe (definitely) wrap my arms around his torso, plant soft kisses on the side of his jaw and cheeks. I’d be close. But I can’t do that now, so I go over and stand by Sam. He instinctively wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “I’m gonna leave you two to talk. I’m gonna edit your photos. We’ll leave to get dinner in, like an hour-ish?”

I nod, “Sure, sounds good.”

And once again, Connor and I are left alone. Except this time we’re actually alone. Most everyone has left, and those who haven’t are in Sam’s studio - which I’m pretty sure it’s just his assistant and his friend Ella. I rock back and forth on my heels, looking down at our feet. 

“So…” he starts. “You wanna, maybe want to show me that song?”

“Oh, yes.” I nod. “Yeah,” I pull my phone from my back pocket. “I uh, I only have the demo on my phone,” I tell him, moving to stand next to him. I hoist myself up onto the counter. “I don’t want to risk my phone getting hacked and the real thing getting leaked.”

He smiles, turning his body to face mine. “I know. You’ve never put the finished version on your phone.”

I clear my throat, looking at the screen. “Uh, do you have your airpods? They should still be connected to my phone. You’ve always listened to it alone first, unless you just want to play it out loud. I mean, Sam’s already heard it, so.”

He pulls his airpods case out of his pocket. “I got ‘em. May I?” he holds his hand out, silently asking for my phone. I give it to him. He puts one earphone in and holds the other one out to me. “Listen with me?”

I suck in a breath but nod. “Yeah.” 

Once we’re both situated, he looks at me for confirmation before pressing play.

Now’s all we’ve got / and time can’t be bought / I know it inside my heart / forever will forever be ours / even if we try to forget / love will remember

I watch his face while we listen, trying to decipher his expression, but it’s blank. Even more so when the next line starts. 

You said you loved me / I said I loved you back / what happened to that? What happened to that? / all your promises, and all those plans we had / what happened to that? What happened to that? 

Boom, gone / yeah, we move on / even if we try to forget / love will remember you / and love will remember me / I know it inside my heart / forever will forever be ours / even if we try to forget / love will remember

I hate not knowing what he’s thinking. He’s nodding his head to the beat as the second verse kicks in, but his face still holds no emotion. I don’t know if he’s upset, hurt, what? Usually I can tell. But then again, I did tell him I wrote this about him, and it’s a breakup song. I’ve never written one about him before (well, “It’ll be Okay” but that one doesn’t fully count because Shawn co-wrote it. This one was all me.) 

I take a deep breath as the second chorus starts to come to an end. This last verse was the hardest for me to write, but it’s also my favorite thing I’ve written.

Break down the walls / let heaven in / somewhere in forever we’ll dance again / we used to be inseparable / I used to think that I was irreplaceable / we lit the whole world up before we blew it up / I still don’t know just how we screwed it up / forever, forever, forever

That’s the first time his face breaks that blank stare. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, but not before I catch something in his eyes - it somehow looks like a mix between hurt and pride? I don’t know how those two go together, but that’s what it looks like, but when he opens his eyes again as the song comes to an end, the look is gone. And he’s back to being blank and expressionless. He stops the track and takes out his earbud. I do the same. 

“Well?”

He sighs, “You write one hell of a breakup song.”

I look down at my hands. “If you totally hate it, I won't release it. I have a few others that I can choose from to put out instead -”

“Release it,” he says, causing me to look back at him. 

“What?”

“It’s a great song, Luc. The lyrics are - they’re real, and that’s what makes it great. Do I wish they weren’t real? Yes, but that’s on me, not you.You wrote what you felt, I’ve always been proud of you for that. So, don’t not put it out because of me.”

“Okay,” I sigh. “Are you - are we okay?”

He nods, taking my hand in his and my breath hitches at the contact. I forgot how such a simple touch always made my heart flutter when it happened. “We’re okay. But I do have to tell you one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Right now, I know we’re just trying to be friends and work on being around each other. But, I want my intentions to be clear. Okay? I want to be with you again. And I’m going to regain your trust. I want you to fall in love with me again.”

I never fell out. “I want that too,” I mutter. 

“I’m gonna fix things for us. I will.”

“We’ll take it day by day?”

“Yeah. Day by day.”

---

liked by samdameshek, connorbrashier and 1,543,556 others

Lucaofficial My NEW SINGLE “Love Will Remember” comes out next week. Click the link in my bio to PRESAVE

📸: @samdameshek

view all 65,467 comments

Locoforluca I CAN’T WAIT

Shawnmendes They’re not ready for this one

connor.lucafan CONNOR LIKED!!!

***

I hope you enjoyed! Please like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

Permanent tag: @soyalimoncada-blog @magcon7280​ @fallinallincurls​ @sunriseholland​  @myyohmyuohmyy​ @harry-hollands​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl​ @baroness-alison​ @lostinmendess​ @linanilssonfurberg​ @luvluvxx​ @mariamuses​ @shawnieeboyy​ @divinginfearlessly​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @shawnsthighs​ @zaahidahhh​ @lordescomeback​ @shawnandconnor​ @shawnsblue​ @turtoix​ @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s​ @gangofhoes​ @verlaneswiftie13​ @helen-with-an-a​ @outerbnx-stiles @queenl04​ @loveylangdon​

[raith-way]

Fandom: DCEU / Snyder Verse

Fic: Memento Mori

Pairing: Ryan Lopez/Bruce Wayne

Kiss Prompt 36: …to give up control

Requested By: @asirensrage

Tagging: @jinxsflame @hughstheforcelou @uno-reverse-reversed @hiddenqveendom @ocfairygodmother @jewelswrites-ish

Show Me Your Truth

“You’re upset.”

Ryan let her fist connect one last time, bare skin stretched over hardened bone against packed sand contained inside thick leather, and she kept her knuckles pushing against the bag as she turned her head to the side. Sweat had slicked her hair against the side of her face, dark chunks of hair were obscuring her vision, and she flicked her neck in one harsh motion to give her a perfect sightline. Bruce was right where she knew he’d be, sitting at his desk and surrounded by immaculate silver, and her jaw popped as she ground her teeth together.

Some nights, he looked more like Wayne. Expensive tailored material clinging to him without a single hair out of place. Those nights, she had the urge to kick his chair away from the scrolling screens and dig her fingers in. Put lines and wrinkles in those suits before feeling that thick hair locked between her fingers.

Some nights, she looked over to see Bats. Heavy dark armor, black paint against his skin, and short terse words. Her first fond memories of Gotham were of Gotham’s infamous Batman, and seeing her first friend sharing his space with her made something inside her feel liquid and warm. Those nights, she wanted to grip the darkness that he clothed himself in and lick those growled commands from behind his teeth.

Some nights, the person that looked back at her was Bruce. Shirt untucked, sleeves up to his elbows, tie gone with the top buttons undone to show the vulnerable dip of his throat. Hair starting to fall over his brow, whenever he didn’t push his fingers through it while working through some problem that she hadn’t even considered. Those nights, she just wanted to be close to him. Press close to offer him comfort and to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

Then there were nights, like tonight, where he somehow managed to encompass all three sides of himself. To be an infuriating irresistible dick. She’d been going at the punching bag for nearly an hour now, while he sat at his little control-command center, and she’d been picoting Bruce’s smug public paparazzi-are-here smirk for at least half that time. Sometimes the image would shift into someone else, usually someone on her board, and then Bruce would make some kind of noise and cause her to start seeing his stupid fucking smirk all over again. He’d shift in his chair or blow out a sigh, something so terribly human that usually made her feel weak at the knees for being able to witness him in his human skin but tonight had just made her want to tear something apart instead, and she had a headache from how hard she’d been clenching her jaw.

“What gave it away?” she forced herself to ask. Her teeth were still clenched, words being forced off her tongue and through her lips, and Bruce had the audacity to just stare at her. “If you want to know why, use your words.”

“You’re upset about the banquet.” He said it. He didn’t even have the decency to ask her so that she could try to explain herself. To explain the emotions that were now boiling inside of her.

“I am upset because you are an absolute dick,” she spat. She used her fist to push off against the punching bag, stretched out her bloodied knuckles, and felt tension building in her spine.

“Use your words, Miss Lopez,” Bruce drawled. It wasn’t the lazy way he talked after a long night on the streets or that sweet slowness as he was starting to wake up. No, it was that carefully cultivated accent he used in front of people that didn’t know a single true thing about him.

Words burned the back of her throat and died a quick death as she stormed across the underground lair, because it was a lair no matter what Bruce liked to claim otherwise, and he didn’t react at all as she stalked closer. His expression stayed impassive as she gripped the back of his chair and forced him around to face her, and her hands dropped down to his shoulders. (Tux shirt from the banquet, stiff thick white, and her fingers curled in.) His face wasn’t clean shaven, stubble looked rough against his jaw as she ducked down to let her clean sweat mix with the scent of his expensive cologne, and she planted her knee on the chair right between his spread thighs. Pressed close enough to him that he’d be able to feel the heat from her trying to expel her rage of the night.

“Miss Lopez’s time would be better spent—”

“Those were my words,” he interrupted. There it was. Just a quick flash; tension next to his eyes, hardened line to his jaw, thinned lips. They both knew that he’d basically said that she belonged in the slums, not in a boardroom or at some fancy pretentious banquet for who-the-fuck-cares. Before, she hadn’t cared what Wayne said about her. It was both expected and almost wanted, because it gave her an excuse to dig into him. Back when the only time she felt any kind of heat was when she wanted to rip into him to feel his beating heart in her hands. Even after, after, she had expected the cutting words. The world expected them.

“We had an agreement, Bruce. To ease into something different. So that Bruce Wayne can stop being a playboy, because let’s be honest, it’s not like you’re getting any younger,” she hissed. She wanted to scream at him. To use the hold she had on him to shake him, to move the solid strength of him, because she had been expecting something different tonight. Not kindness, not so soon, but something a little less than what had become the usual.

“The plan—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear about another plan!” She pushed up closer, palms flattened against his shoulders and knee pressed against the center of him, and he had to tip his head back to keep eye contact with her as she started to loom over him. “Everything is planned! Every single word and gesture is planned out to perfection! It’s maddening! It’s insane! It’s drives me absolutely fucking crazy that you can’t break character for two fucking seconds!”

“Ryan—”

“I get it, okay?” She interrupted him again, softened her tone, and lowered herself down. Shifted her leg so that she was straddling him properly, smoothed her hands down to feel the rhythm of his slow-moving chest, and rested her weight against his thighs to put them on an even eye-level. “One part of your life is practically all improvisation, no matter how much you plan. You can always control what that side of yourself does, the one who smiles for the cameras and talks shit for the elites, but I hate that you can’t give up control for one moment. Just a second to—”

Hands pulled at her faster than she could process, one locked around her bicep just above her elbow and the other pressed flat low against her back, and whatever words she was about to say were taken from her. Pried apart with teeth and softened with his tongue, until all the rage that had been building inside her liquidized and had her melting against him. She curled into him, the heat of anger shifting and growing, and she chased after his lips as he pulled away. Claimed another kiss before controlling herself, and her eyes locked on his face. The warmth in his eyes. The curl of his wet darkened lips. The rough grain of his stubble that she wanted to feel against her skin.

“Out of control enough for you?” His voice had dropped, deeper and without that pretentious drawl, and he sounded like Bruce.

“You’re learning,” she told him and pulled him back in. Her Bruce.

[notyetneedcoffee]

No Secrets, Part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)

Warnings: None in this section

You sat in the car staring at the house. Your beautiful new prison.  

“Miss Y/L/N, you have an incoming call from Miss Maximoff.” The car’s AI announce.  

“Hi Wanda, so who called you?”

“Steve. He sent me the file and thought I might be able to help.” She was on the other side of the planet at the moment. It had to be the dark hours of the morning where she was. Still, she sounded alert and concerned. “How are you holding up?”

“At the moment?” You sighed, gripping the steering wheel hard. “I’m frustrated.”

“That’s it?” Wanda laughed. “I’d be pissed.”

“Yeah, that too.” You admitted.

“Try not to be too angry, though. They just feel like every weird, inane, and inappropriate thing that pops into their head is some how on blazing display now. They conveniently forget that I can pick up on all that, too. I’m just better at not responding.”

You tried to put yourself in Tony’s shoes. As much as you hated it, you understood his reaction. You may not agree with his solution, but you understood. Picturing the crazy stuff that probably popped into the team’s minds, and having to deal with it all at once might be a bit much to deal with, it kind of made you smile. “I suppose being around everyone would get kind of maddening.”

Wanda laughed. “It’s why I don’t do parties. I know you’re still likely to see some of them before this wears off. Please keep one very important thing in mind. People are not what they think. What matters is the way they choose to act.”

“Okay.” You considered her words.  

“Much of what people think are caused by outside influences, or old tapes in their head. Still, they choose to do different. Just like someone may be racked with fear, but behave more bravely than anyone else. There are some people who’s thoughts are plagued with darkness, but they choose to be kind.”

Sitting quietly in your car, in front of the big modern house next to the lake, you knew things could be so much worse. The reality that Tony really was trying to be as good to you as he could right now sunk in. “You’re wiser than your years, my friend.”

“Don’t give me too much credit.” She laughed. “There is one other thing, Padawan. Don’t fight it. It’s like saying ‘hey don’t think about a blue monkey in a pink tu-tu’. You brain immediately conjures the monkey.”

“Okay.” You laughed despite yourself.  

“I don’t know how available I’ll be, but call me if you need to. Whenever, night or day.” Wanda encouraged.

“I will. Listen, thanks.”

“Don’t sound so down. You’re probably going to get tons of sleep, be able to catch up on all the great shows, work out all you want, and not have to listen to Sam and Bucky fight over who gets to pick the music in the gym. Time will fly by.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”  

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Thanks, Wanda.” You cut off the call as you popped the trunk to grabbed your bags.  

The house looked like a team from Architectural Digest picked the décor. It had all the conveniences of Tony’s smart homes. The refrigerator looked to be stocked by one of the compound’s chefs. A neat row of your favorite bottled juice was lined up beside your favorite soda and a stack of your favorite yogurts. On the giant bed you found a set of expensive silk pajamas and a plush robe under a copy of Anna Karenina. In the en-suite bathroom you found a tub big enough for four, and beside it a basket full of spa goodies.  

The cell phone in your pocket buzzed. Steve’s name scrolled across the screen.

“Hey.”

“You made it okay.”  

“Yeah. Tony must be feeling guilty. The house it loaded up with all kinds of gifts.” 

“I hope they’re nice.”

“I suppose.” You sighed. “I’d rather be home.”

“I know.” His voice was quiet.  

“Wanda called.” You sat down on the edge of the tub, running your hand over the fluffy towel.

“Good.” Steve took a deep breath. “I think we have, ah, some stuff to talk about but… God, I can’t do this over the phone. I’m sorry. I just… It feels wrong to do this over the phone.”

One of the generational leaps Steve never managed to make was his attitude towards the phone. It was a utilitarian tool. If you had something important to say, he felt you should do it face to face. You smiled, “I know. It’s okay, Steve.”

“Really?”

“We can talk later.” You gave a humorless laugh. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, Honey. I really am.” Again his voice dropped low, quiet.

The little endearment warmed your cheeks. He so rarely used it. “No reason to be sorry, Steve.”

“Well, you get settled in and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Steve,” You sighed. “Thank you for checking on me. You be safe.”  

“Will do.”

Strains of what you thought might be Verdi tickled the back of your mind. You stopped chopping the cucumber and put the knife down. The clock showed 12:35. It was still a half an hour until Bruce was supposed to be at the house.

‘Got to stay focused. This is so going to suck. What if she starts asking me questions? You’re going stumble around like a dumbass. Some genius you are. No. No. It’s going to be fine. It’s a short visit. I’ll be fine.’

Yep. Definitely Bruce.  

You munched on your salad as you split your attention between the British Bake Off on the television and Banner’s constant internal rambling. It swung from running down a check list for his visit to trying to remember the Band Aid’s commercial jingle.  

When the knock came at the door you looked at the clock. Only two minutes had passed. Bruce must have been at the street, or just coming down the long drive, when you heard him. Interesting.

“Hi Bruce.” You opened the door, popping a piece of cucumber in your mouth. “Hungry?”

“Ah, no.” He came in. “Thanks. I don’t want to be rude, but I’d like to just get to it. If you don’t mind, that is?”

“Why not?” You dropped into the chair at the table. “You’re just the first person I’ve seen in a week.”

‘Shit. Shit. Way to be a jerk.’

“It’s okay, Bruce.” You smiled. “I don’t mind, really. What do I do?”

“Ah, bring your chair out here. Then, ah, just let me run the scans.”

You pulled your chair out where he could walk around you. “Do I need to stay still?”

“No, I mean don’t dance around or anything.” He began pulling out equipment. He was internally humming the Verdi piece.  

“How’s the team?” You knew it would be kinder to just be quiet, but you were dying for some interaction.

“Okay. Staying busy.” Came out of his mouth, but a barrage of things hit you. ‘Cap won’t stop moping. Tony needs to cut back on the caffeine. I’m gonna go green on Bucky soon.’

“I heard you just got back. Some mission with Nat and Clint.”

‘What a dress.’  

“Ah, damn it. This sucks.” Bruce looked away from the device in his hands and deep in your eyes. “I’m really sorry, but I’m just afraid to talk about anything okay.”

You frown, nodding. “I’m sorry. I’ll stay quiet.”

‘Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.’

“You know what? Fuck it.” He sighed. “Things are tense. They’re kind of awful. Tony and I stick to the lab. Cap is walking around on auto-pilot. Bucky is fucking impossible. Sam is trying to play peacemaker but failing spectacularly. Clint came up with the mission just because Natasha and Bucky nearly killed each other sparring.”

‘I hate it. Hate it.’

“I’m sorry.” You twisted you hands together. “I don’t want everyone miserable over what happened to me.”

‘No. No. No. Fuck. Don’t cry. I’m going rip Tony’s arms off if she cries.’

“Not your fault.” Bruce sighed.  

“Bruce.” You lifted you jaw. “I know it’s not my fault, but at least if I were there Tony wouldn’t feel guilty, I could tell Steve snap out of it, and I could smack Buck up side the head. You tell them to knock that crap off.”

He chuckled. “I’ll tell them you said so.”

Bruce asked you some medical questions and took a blood sample after finishing the scan. He calmed down quite a bit, but still left as soon as he could. Later that evening he called you to say that the reading were consistent with your time in the lab. The anomaly would go away, it would just take time.  

You made yourself a hot chocolate and curled up on one of the deck chairs to listen to sounds of the evening forest when you got off the phone. It would be a long while alone. The sun wouldn’t set for a while yet, and you were reading a new book. Reading outside lessened the feeling of being trapped.  

‘Don’t care. Got to do this.’

You head came up at the same time you heard the motorcycle pull down the drive. By the time Steve parked his bike, you stood at the edge of the deck just a few feet away. He looked up, seeing you clutch a throw blanket around your shoulders, wearing jeans and an old tee. Steve looked you over from bare feet to big eyes.

‘Beautiful.’

“I missed you.” He said, voice low.

“Missed you, too.”

Steve stepped closer. “I’ve been thinking, a lot. There’s something I don’t think I can, I don’t want, to wait to tell you.”

“Okay.” You swallowed, fighting to hold still. So much, so strong, hit you at once. 

He took a deep breath, his large hand touched your hair, cupped your face. “I’m not sure when my feelings changed, but for a long time now all I can think about is how much I want you, want you to be with me.”

‘Those lips. So pretty.’

You felt a smile curl at the corner of your mouth. His mouth covered yours, lips gentle and soft. When your hands slid along his waist. His tongue swept lightly along your lip and was met by your own. He moan, pulling you close, kiss deepening.

‘God, yes, honey.’

BLEEEP! CRASH!

You both jerked away from each other in shock.    

‘No! Not now!’

It took a second for the realization to hit you that you heard a car crash. Somewhere close by.  

‘No. No. No. Dammit. Not now.’  

Steve looked at you, “I should see what happened.”

“Yeah,” You breathed.

‘No. We should go inside, forget we heard anything. Want to feel you again.’

“It’s okay.” He covered your hand with his own when you touched his chest. “I’ll be here when you get back.” You gave him a warm smile.

‘No. I don’t want to go anywhere. Not missing out again.’

“Okay.” Steve nodded, stepping away from you. “I’ll be back soon.”

TAGS

@asiaaisa77​ / @babygurl8840​  / @badassbaker​ / @bangtan-serendipity​ / @beautifullungs​ / @buchanansebba​ / @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ / @dsakita​ / @geeksareunique​ / @imma-new-soul​ / @jennmurawski13​ / @jesseswartzwelder​ / @kiki5283​ / @lbouvet​ / @michelehansel​ / @mindtravelsx​ / @morganhoran1671 / @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ / @notyourtypicalrose​ / @nova3312​ / @patzammit​ / @rainbowkisses31​ / @readermia​ / @rynabarnesrogers​ / @sammghgecko​ / @scarlettsoldier​ / @sebbysstangirl​ / @sexyvixen7​ / @sllooney​ / @thegetawaywriter​ / @theneuropsychwriter​ / @the-omni-princess​ / @the-reading-octopus​ / @thorfanficwriter​ / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @vanillabunn21​ / @vxidnik​ / @what-is-your-plan-today​ / @wildmoonflower​ / @wwe-fanfiction-queen​ / @sassy89sworld​ / @bitchwhytho​ / @carinacassiopeiae​ / @jessyballet​ / @killcomet​ / @steve-rogers-is-a-saint​

[antivirus-mh-au]

Antivirus - Chapter 2

TW: None Chapter 1 here Ao3 link If you like this, please leave a like, reblog, or send me an ask! It encourages me so much.

He blew the smoke from his mouth around the cigarette, the morning sun catching all the particles as they floated into the air. Tim drew the J on top of the fresh carton and dropped the pen onto the dashboard. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he drew in a deep breath of fresh air, fresh as you could get at a gas station by a highway. Looking around the parking lot, at the people filing in and out, he shook his head and gave a wry smile. Hard not to be in a good mood when you got some decent sleep for once.

Becca and Lukas were okay. Lukas's leg had been taken care of, and the two had set back off for Idaho, back to the families that loved them. Another success case for Timothy Kane. Another group of people adding to the myth of his existence. Seemed like every month there were more of them. The Operator never tired. The sickness never eased. In fact, it only grew worse.

But like hell was he going to start off a good morning with that depressing shit. He'd gotten paid, gotten rest, and he'd found out where the nearest library was with free internet. He was not going to let a rare moment of peace escape him. He'd lost too much for that.

The library wasn't far away from the gas station he'd refilled at. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, it was open, as were the windows on the front of the building. He spoke briefly to the clerk at the front desk, making sure he understood their internet rules and that it was okay for him to bring in his thermos of coffee, before finding a convenient spot by a power outlet. 

His laptop was getting old, it took a while for it to boot up. As Tim waited, he thumbed through a newspaper. Experts predicting a war with China for the third time in as many years, conflict in the Middle East, the royal family in Britain getting roped into some scandal or another. That was why he didn't read the news much, it was always the same. By the time he got to the comics (never his favorite part of the newspaper), his laptop had finished, and Tim traded the two without a second thought.

He could and did check his email on his phone but he was old-fashioned and preferred to use his laptop when he had the chance. Earlier Becca's mother replied to his report about her daughter returning home, a message he'd saved in a special folder he looked at when he felt particularly shitty. 

Another email was waiting for him now, from a 'Meridith Frederickson'. Another client, looking for her son and his missing best friend. He replied to that one, offering to schedule a Zoom meeting later that same day. By now he knew all too well what happened if he wasn't on top of his cases. 

And of course, he had new messages in the spam folder. Tim glanced over the subjects of the emails without opening any of them. Some didn't have any, but most were vaguely threatening, the kind he usually got from trolls and kids. 'Always watching', 'there's no escape', 'how could you', and on and on and on. People thought they could get a rise out of him by acting like totheark, but none of them even came close to what Brian had been all those years ago. 

Tim glanced at the tab next to his email, frowning. There was no sense in trying to put it off, even if he hated doing it. Everything on that site made him feel worse, and today had been a pretty good day. But if he didn't look, he'd regret it later, falling into a rabbit hole of updates that was guaranteed to fuck him over. So he opened YouTube.

The videos were taken down years ago, the channels involved with Marble Hornets wiped from the website. But that didn't mean they were gone, just hidden away on Google Drives and shock sites. What was on YouTube was... the fandom.

It made his skin crawl thinking about it. People from all over the world were obsessed with what he and Jay had been through. He'd seen hundreds of articles about the videos, from five minute listicles to long analysises about the events and the people involved. He'd seen other things, too, things he'd rather not remember. Like the fanart...

Out of everything, though, it was the YouTube community that unsettled him the most. The passionate, wide eyed college kids. The naive high schoolers. The older people, with their backgrounds in criminal science and forensics and cryptids and God knew what else. They picked over the videos and tweets and codes like vultures at a pile of bones. Like it was just a fictional web series, like people he knew and once liked weren't dead. And they spread the disease. It didn't take all of them, leaving the YouTubers alone, but claiming their followers. It made him sick thinking about all the people he couldn't save, the people who had no one left to try and find them, the people who vanished into Rosswood Park and were never seen again. It made him sick, watching these ignorant people talk about his pain as if they were all insects under microscopes.

But if he didn't pay attention, who knew what might happen. The Operator was watching all of them. One slip up was all it took.

He scrolled through both the front page and his subscriptions. The videos were, in the end, all the same. Speculation, discussion, analyzation. Some of them he could watch later. Others needed his attention now.

Tim’s eyes landed on a video, and his heart clenched. The Neophyte was streaming again.

The still image didn’t show much. Neophyte_Calling didn’t put much work into his channel. It was just a shot of what the streams normally showed, pale, unkempt hands poking free from black robes, resting on an old plastic table. That was what he expected to find once he opened the stream.

And he’d be correct, that was what awaited him once he got the courage to click. The hands twitched and clenched and dug at the table. It wasn’t the hands that were special though, it was what the owner of those hands were saying.

“Autumn after firestorm, the nights don’t listen and the butter is on the corn. Ten days or twenty paces of living guts wrapped around an old man’s neck. The water comes up to your waist but you don’t feel the attitude of denial inside the bastard daughter’s heart. Oh, god, eureka, industry was never so smooth…”

Complete nonsense. The ramblings of a man on some kind of drug, or lost to some unknown mental illness. Despite this, the chat flooded with messages. Donations popped up occasionally, attempts to get the Neophyte’s attention. He didn’t notice. He never noticed. He just kept talking. And he would keep talking until the stream ended on its own, or he passed out on the table.

People called him a prophet. Claimed every word he spoke had a double, or even a triple, meaning. They recorded every word he said and discussed them among themselves, coming up with ‘translations’ for his maddening dialogue. And to be fair, they could have a point. Sometimes, what the Neophyte said did seem to foretell events that happened not long after he spoke them. But the god the Neophyte channeled was not one Tim would ever ask someone to worship.

Silence. The man stopped talking, his fidgeting hands resting flat on the table. Dread filled Tim’s body. Speak of the devil, he was doing this again?

The Neophyte spoke again, his voice deeper now. The words came clumsy from his mouth, uncomfortable, heavy, as if he had never spoken before. The emphasis, the tone, it was all wrong. Tim had no trouble understanding them, however.

“You always fight,” It said through the Neophyte’s mouth. “You always resist. You tire, and exhaust, and fall. You continue to fight despite.”

The robes shifted, the head hidden from the camera’s view tilting.

“Tim,” It said. “You are a grain of sand. I am eternal. I am here. I will always be here. You understand. You continue despite.”

On the side of the screen, the chat surged with messages. It raced so quickly, Tim couldn’t have read any of them even if he tried. He didn’t look away from the livestream. 

“Tim,” It said again. “Enough. You have fought hard. You are getting old. That’s enough. It’s time to come home. To us. To all of us.”

The hair stood up on his arms, on the back of Tim’s neck. He shuddered.

“Like hell,” he whispered, and closed the tab.

But even though he closed the livestream, he could swear he heard the Neophyte, the thing puppeting him, whisper in his mind.

“Coward.”

When 2pm rolled around, Tim was back in his van in the library parking lot. Obviously he couldn’t do a Zoom call inside the quiet space, but their internet reached well past the parking lot. He sat on his bed, now folded up like a couch inside the converted van he lived in. His laptop open before him, the program open and ready. Now he just had to wait for her.

Hard to say what this Meredith Fredrickson would expect a private investigator like him to look like, but Tim did his best to look presentable anyway. Hair combed, beard trimmed, leather jacket kept to the side out of her line of sight - leather jackets weren’t worn by authority figures, and that was what he was trying to be right now. Not anyone could do this job, but who’s to say she knew that? If she didn’t like the way he looked, she could try to find someone else to find her son and his friend. And if she did that, by the time she realized only Tim could help her, it would be too late.

Thinking about it that way made him shudder.

Of course, while he was prepared to deal with what she thought he would look like, he wasn’t as ready for what she herself would look like. As the call began, and Meredith’s face came on screen, Tim hesitated. He looked at her closely again. Had he seen this woman before?

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Fredrickson,” He greeted.

The woman shook her head, her curly brown hair tossing around her slim shoulders.

“Meredith is fine,” she said. “I haven’t been called ‘Mrs’ since my husband died. I changed back to my maiden name - my son’s last name will be his, not mine.”

“Of course,” Tim said. Odd information to include, but people tended to ramble when they were nervous.

He looked at her again, at the frown lines developing around her lips, and the worry and pain in her wide-set eyes. Behind her was a normal looking home, a few windows with pale curtains, a kitchen kept clean from what little he saw. Something was nagging at him. What was it?

“Did you fill out the information packet I requested?” He asked.

Meredith nodded.

“Yes.”

The file appeared, Tim half-listening to her as he opened it.

“I know this is a very strange thing to ask from you,” Meredith said. “But circumstances have changed in a way I really didn’t expect. I know it’s hard to believe that after ten years my son could be alive, but I don’t have any other explanation for…”

She trailed off. Tim didn’t look away from the document she’d sent. The names written on the very first line.

Missing People: Jay Merrick and Alex Kralie

Motherfucker, had he been tricked?

Tim shot the woman a sharp glance, examining her expression in seconds. She was not the first person to ask him to track down Jay and Alex, but she was the first he hadn’t screened out before it got this far. Most people were upfront about their intentions, or were obviously trolling, or he otherwise got weird vibes from them. This Meredith had slipped him by, and wasted his time in the process.

“He is my son,” Meredith said. “I’ve included his birth certificate, since I thought you might not believe me.”

“I don’t need it.” A birth certificate? Those weren’t easy to fake, but Tim was no expert on Photoshop either. 

“I would’ve included Alex’s, too,” Meredith continued. “After all the years he and Jay knew each other, you would’ve thought I’d have it too.” She laughed, and there was pain within it. “But his parents died in a car accident about six years back, and…”

“Wait.” Tim refocused. “Alex and Jay knew each other?”

“Since the first year of middle school,” Meredith said with a nod. “I have a lot of photos of them. You know, Jay went through a phase, where he wore all black, and listened to rock music with singers I couldn’t understand. He got a tattoo of one of the bands on his ankle behind my back. I was so angry...”

She laughed again, and her eyes went distant. Tim stared at her, his mind flashing back to all the conversations he’d had with Jay, things that didn’t go into the videos. Being Alex’s childhood friend, since middle school - the phases he went through as a teen - that damn tattoo he was so embarrassed of. None of these were known by the fandom.

Oh god, this woman was the real deal. Even her face, now that he looked at her, was just like Jay’s. The distant look in her eyes as she thought… Jay got that same expression.

“Meredith,” he said, his voice softer, kinder. “Do you know about Marble Hornets?”

“I can’t bring myself to watch them,” she said. Meredith folded her hands together. “But I know what… what was shown on the videos. I know that they are…” She swallowed. “Considered dead by most people. I was one of them.”

His gut twisted. By most people, including her. “But something… changed.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, and moved to wipe her eyes. “I got a package in the mail about a week ago. Inside was a flashdrive and a few printed photos. It had been placed in my mailbox - I don’t know who sent it.”

Oh no, Tim thought. Not this again. Please, don’t play this game with people again.

“What were the photos?” He asked, aware of the sound of his own voice more than anything else.

“I’ve included most of them in the document,” Meredith said. “I… I still can’t believe what I’ve seen, but… But they don’t look like they could’ve been faked.”

Dread pressed down on his shoulders. Dread and something else, some kind of energy buzzing through his nerves. Tim looked at the document, scrolled down, and opened the photos.

Some were blurry, taken from a distance and zoomed in before being printed. Some were clear as glass. It took him several seconds to process what he was seeing, what the subjects of the photos were. Tim blinked, looked again, and his pulse quickened.

Alex, standing on a street corner, gray in his hair, exhaustion on his face. Jay in a dark cloth jacket with a hood, looking over his shoulders. Alex, and Jay, Alex, and Jay, in all the photos, in every single one. The clothes were different, the faces aged, but there was no denying what he was seeing, and like Meredith said, no way to fake what he was looking at.

“Oh my god,” Tim mumbled.

Jay and Alex were alive.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Calum looked out the window of his hotel room watching the city lights flicker until they became a blur behind unexpected tears. He wiped his eyes forced himself to think of anything but her. Nights like these loneliness crept up on him and his thoughts began to wander. He'd had too much to drink, but he wasn't ready to pass out.  He ordered food and while he was waiting he scrolled through Instagram. Not finding what he wanted quickly enough Cal became impatient and went to search. He only had to type two letters before she popped up as the top result. He grinned at the first pic of her dog Snickers. 

Part chihuahua, part terrier and part gremlin Calum adored the strange little pup who always managed to look like he thought you were an idiot. 

Calum kept lurking scrolling through pictures of her birthday party, her family trip to Florida and more dog pictures. His chest felt hollow as he stared at his phone. He missed her, he missed how she made him feel, and how he felt about himself when he was with her. Calum hit the message button just as his food arrived. Sitting back down with his pizza he struggled to find the words he'd been trying to find for months..

She finished another glass of wine. It had been a long day, and she'd started drinking not long after she'd gotten home. The holidays were already stressing her out and it wasn't even Thanksgiving yet. She really needed to get laid, that would relieve a lot of the tension she had built up. However, the last time she'd had sex with was Calum, and she'd rather not think about that.

The connection with Calum had been powerful, emotional and awakened her sexually in new ways, but they'd been friends first. That's what hurt the most, losing him as a friend, having someone to bounce ideas off of, someone who had her back when she doubted herself. Calum had talked to her every day for a year whether in person or on the phone. When he'd ghosted her over a stupid argument the silence had been maddening. Determined not to be the one to apologize she'd ignored him right back until weeks turned into months, and then it was too late. She missed him and wondered all the time if he missed her. On nights like these, buzzed, stressed, and horny, she missed him terribly. 

Sometimes you regret letting people leave your life, but hope they've moved on to better things. 

Calum hit post and almost deleted it immediately. The fans would speculate like crazy, but if she saw it she would know. He wanted to message her, but what could he say right now at 2 am tequila clouding his mind that she would believe.

She wouldn't believe he was sincere, and honestly he doubted his own motivations. Their relationship had been far from perfect. He was aloof and snarky, she was clingy and always needing reassurance and they both were moody and quick to get defensive. He didn't miss the arguments, he just missed her. He didn't know why he couldn't tell her that. 

She saw his tweet and her heart dropped into her guts. Was that meant for her? Calum did this shit every now and then, post something cryptic and sad. She could tell he was lonely and longing for something, but didn't want to assume it was for her. She'd liked one of these messages about a month ago, but he hadn't noticed. She knew she'd have to be the one to reach out, and there were so many nights she'd typed out a full message only to delete just before hitting send. Her friends were sick of her being so hung up on Calum. He'd made her cry, he'd been selfish with her time and attention and then stopped speaking to her for no reason. Why should she be the one to say she was sorry. 

Calum knew it was pointless to go on like this. His brain knew they were both too stubborn to make the first move, that they weren't right for each other, but his heart couldn't let go of that connection and hope is hard to kill. He finished his food, and pulled out his journal. If he was going to be emotional and sad maybe he could find lyrics in this. He could say things in a song he couldn't say in real life. By then it would be too late, if it wasn't already. He began to cry.

She put her phone down and finished off the bottle of wine. Texting Calum was a bad idea, especially in her current state. As much as she wanted to talk to him she knew if he ignored her or acted like he didn't care it would break her back down again. She'd spent too long building her walls back up. She could take care of herself. She grabbed her wine glass and headed into her bedroom. Pulling her toy box out from under her bed she picked out a wand Calum loved using on her, even when he wasn't there. She wasn't going to allow herself to be miserable. If he was going to be on her mind tonight let it be his hands on her skin or this tongue exploring her heat. Tonight was the end of another day of getting over him.

[zaymadden-author]

Written by ZAY MADDEN

“Man, this is not how Saturday nights are supposed to go.” With all the shit going on in the world, I’ve been house-bound for a minute, and at this point I’m all TikTok’d out. A couple of my boys and my cousin Terrell pulled up on me around 8 for a couple rounds of 2K 🎮, but you know how Mississippi weather is. Mother Nature randomly decided to do her dirty work and had them staying later than planned, but once the sky stopped roaring, I sent my boys home. It was time for a night cap.

I trailed them outside to make sure they were all gone, and once the last car looped around my driveway, I could finally sit on my porch and think. I had my D’USSÈ 🥃 in one hand and my phone in another, scrolling through my thread of texts to see which girl I could get to bless my night; it was part of my weekend ritual. I had a rule though: never start at the top because most recent pussy tends to be not as interesting unless she really got that 🍑💦 if you know what I’m saying.

So, last I checked, Keisha wit the plump ass moved to Florida, which is unfortunate for me. She had one hell of a mouth piece in bed but never ran her mouth in the streets. I could respect that and that’s why I keep her on standby.

The next on my list, Monica, was on the classy end of the spectrum, but it was like rolling dice with her ass. Most of the time she waits until 7 am to reply. Her brain was still accustomed to her school schedule and she had a day job too, so I respected that. However, it sucked for me though cuz Monica was bad af from head to toe and really would’ve gave me a night to remember. Shit, I still reminisce about our last rendezvous. She had pretty feet and plump lips that felt like pillows with each kiss. And I know it’s weird, but I think it’s a turn on whenever I see her with those scrubs on. It’s just something about a hard-working black woman. (Damn smh.) I decided not even bother her this late.

So I kept scrolling up right, slowly feeling my luck build up, when my phone all of a sudden ding’d. My heart started thumping against my rib cage, and the corners of my mouth shot up. I couldn’t wait to see who this could be.

(I turn my notification banners off for good reason.)

Could it be Ashley? (The one that stayed wayyy out in Clinton). She usually texts when she wants some dick but it takes her forever to get to my place in Madison.

I put my search on pause and immediately made my way to the top to see who it could be. And would you believe it? “She always does this shit bruh. Like fr!”

Lo and fucking behold:

[MOM: Can you take your grandma to the store in the morning? I forgot to tell you earlier. Phone died.]

MAN 😤!! I almost summoned the spirit of Brady and launched $999 worth of iPhone in the damn pond. It’s 12:02 at night. She could’ve just waited until daylight resumed before bothering me with this!

I know that’s my heart and soul, but grandma is not the type of woman I want on my mind right now. But I replied “ok” to avoid any further communication at this hour.

I kept scrolling through my digital black book and I contemplated, but immediately dismissed, the idea of calling Alisha over. She said I be hurting her so she only wanna do oral. “Naw. I’ll pass. I’m good on that tonight.” Nobody else seemed worthy of hitting up at the time, at least this time of night, so I head inside. I locked the door behind me and made my way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I spritzed a little water on my head and brushed my waves into submission before securing it with my DuRag. Staring at this thick-browed, handsome, brown skinned fellow in the mirror, I began to question whether I still had it. “I am only 23 so that’s nowhere near the ‘falling off’ age,” I say to myself. I guess with me working day and night, I didn’t have time to pull ‘em like I used to.

So, I went and plopped on my bed, face towards the ceiling, contemplating my future, when I heard the sound of rocks sloshing under tires. The sound slowly magnified, and to myself I’m thinking that maybe one of my homeboys forgot something in my house. A barcode-like shadow cast on my wall as the luminance of headlights beamed through my blinds. I almost walked to the door empty handed, but the detective Stabler in me wasn’t taking any chances. So, I grabbed my piece in my night stand and asserted my second amendment rights. Tip-toe after tip-toe I was almost to the door when I heard the engine stop. A few seconds later there was this rhythmic chiming noise echoing through the walls. I crept to the front window stealthily, and peeked out the blinds. I could recognize the vehicle but I had to be sure it was who I thought it was, so I flicked on the second outdoor light.

All I saw was curly tresses flowing through the window of a pink Lexus.

“Aaliyah?” ..... “but how did she?”

With a mixture of anxiety and excitement, I snatched open the front door 🚪 to greet her. And when I saw her strut up the walkway with a touch of flair, a second emotion arose: confusion. How did she know I was alone? How did she know there wasn’t another girl here? It’s been two years and I still can’t figure out how this girl knows me so well and I think that’s why she intrigued me so much. It also scared me a little bit too. I usually don’t let a girl come over unannounced.

She would’ve been the first girl I tried to text, but last I checked she was in New York on business.

I shoot commercials for a living and I did one for her boutique. That’s how we came across each other.

But she’s here now so who cares that she popped up. (Maybe that’s just my dick talking 🤷🏾‍♂️... idk)

She had two Raising Cane’s bags, which I’m guessing that, during this pandemic, was the only thing she could come across at this time a night. Everything else was closed, even Taco Bell.

She let out a soft “Hey” as she bat her lashes and I quickly shut the gap in my mouth.

“What’s up?” I then responded.

And for a moment our eyes did a tango before she broke the silence.

“Can I come in? It’s kinda hot out here. ”

[And she wasn’t lying about that.]

We suddenly smiled at each other (each clipped with a note of sensuality), and with a nonverbal response, I helped her carry the drinks in and held open the door, catching a strange whiff of fried chicken and some floral fragrance as she walked by. I sucked my bottom lip as she sashayed towards my couch; those long legs accented by her gold trimmed pumps.

With a quick, smooth swivel of her body, she had positioned herself towards me, carrying a whole conversation with her eyes.

After locking my door I suddenly needed to adjust my boxer briefs. Gazing at those smooth brown legs made me graduate from flaccid to half chub, but my need to feast was urgent. My stomach was growling like a mf.

So I sit down to eat, right. And we get to chatting about her trip to NY ✈️ and how she’s been so stressed out with trying to open up a store out there. The whole time she’s going on and on about her tired body and her hectic work schedule, I’m reading in between the lines. She didn’t come here looking like that just to talk about work.

Aaliyah has never been one to admit what she wants from me, she just drops hints and expects you to go fishing for answers.

After smashing half my chicken box though, she got up like she had no time to waste. With a flick of her ankles she had both shoes flying across the floor. She took one last glance at me before leading the way to my bedroom, first slipping her skirt off in the living room and her shirt slowly draped from her body as she made her way down the hall. To keep up the tempo, I removed whatever she did, and by the time we made it to my room it was nothing but birthday suits.

I was ready for penetration at the door, but baby girl had other plans. She made me sit on the love seat by my window as she put on a show for me. It was an immediate game of teasing and temptation as she watched me slowly stroke my dick to every scene of her performance. First it was the leg play, then the breast tease, and then my favorite of all... something she knows gets me hard as steel.... the pussy play.

I love it when she bends open her thighs and plays with the most anticipated part of her body. Her smooth, brown sugar skin and nude polished nails drew an excellent contrast to that sweet, bright pink center. And she knew I wanted it too. She also knows how much I brag about how tight she is, so she takes her two fingers and spreads it open in full view for me. It was one thing for me to speculate, but when she slid one finger in and out for me, it was proof enough that her coochie still had that snap-back action.

I couldn’t take it anymore. With my dick now towering from my hand, I made my way over to her. She was now in submission as I asserted myself over her, so I pulled her to the the edge of the bed to get ready for my part. I looked down at myself, the tip of my dick head now glistening with anticipation, and said to her “I want you.”

And in the blink of an eye I was down on my knees and I had her hips cradled in my arms; my tongue digging into the flesh of her thigh, roughly gasping for air as I was too focused to remember breathing. With a slow dance of kissing and tongue-groping, I lead a trail up and down her thighs until I heard her say, “OMG.... Sean!”

I swear I felt a drop of pre-cum stream down to my ankle as I made my way to her hot zone 👅 . Like a rollercoaster, I had my tongue going round and round, remembering all the pressure points that made her thrust her pelvis into my face. I was in full control now, and no matter how hard she gripped the sheets, there was no escaping my vice grip.

My tongue was putting in overtime, and right before my clock struck 1:00 🕐 , I felt her first nut. We both laughed (our goofy asses) to try and cut down on all that sexual tension.

I reared my head to get a good look at her sex face, my goatee now dripping in her juices, and I gave her a look that let her know I was ready for that action. I sprinted like hell to my night stand to grab me a “rain coat,” acting as if my dinner was about to get cold or something.

I slid that mf on so quick. I’d been waiting for this all night. Pussy in my mouth was one thing, but BEING in it... whew 😌.

I looked at her again before I engaged in our post-foreplay session. I already had my 🍆💦 on the edge ready for the deep dive. We shared a gaze as I slowly began to make my way inside. She had that “keep going” look on her face, but it was only so long that she could keep her composure. After the head made its way in, baby girl’s eyes began to sync with my slow strokes. They rolled as my hips began to roll, and before she knew it, her neck gave out and she rested her head. I finessed my hips into a slow roll as I reached down and sucked on her neck. Her walls began to relax as her pussy gradually began to invite me in. I kept piping her down, constantly going deeper until her belly felt full. And by then, I knew I had her.

I secured her backside with my arms, careful not to smother her precious body, as she demanded I up the pace. To keep up the demand, I got more comfortable on the bed before I shifted into overdrive. “Nice Sean” was gone and “ZADDY Sean” was on the scene.

I was working that pussy like I was running track, and before long, she had thought twice about what she asked for. She thought she was slick, inching her body away like I didn’t notice. But guess what, I inched right along with her ass. She had a long ways to go on my California King before she could escape this dick.

At this point, her facial expressions were no longer inaudible. She was squeezing out “oooo’s” and “ahhhhh’s” between every attempt to catch her breath.

“Wait baby... ooooooooo wait.” She pleaded, but mercy was no longer on the table. I kept going until her juices soaked my inner thigh.

“OMG Sean!” She utters the mantra again. But this time I give in to her cries. Hell, I needed to catch my breath too. Shit! 🥵

I rolled over for a brief intermission, slowly creeping my way to the top of the bed near my pillow. She followed. We rested for a good little minute, kissing on each other as the clock kept ticking, but I was mentally preparing for the second round. It was late at night so I had only about two good positions left in me.

She took a bathroom break before we resumed.

I had decided it was her turn, so I stayed where I was and used my finger to signal her to come near when she walked back in the room. So, she took a domineering stance right before she climbed into bed and cat walked towards me. Titties just bouncing everywhere. Curls flowing effortlessly in the breeze of my ceiling fan. She knew what she was doing and she got my lil man right back up. ☝🏾

She leaned towards me for a kiss as she saddled my waist, slow grinding to drum up more anticipation. I slapped my meat against her ass cuz I wanted her to stop playing these games. Hell, my dick was damn near shivering in the wind now.

But she took the hint and began to guide it back in. This time I rolled MY eyes as her warm goodies began to cradle me inside. She placed her hands on my chest and made her first move upward, then she put her hips in reverse. She put this same two-step on repeat, bouncing up and down on my shit, going all the way to the base. I’m talking balls deep. With this kinda grip, my dick was on the verge of spittin’ already, but I held back my nut. “This ain’t how I wanna to go out”

I was diggin’ this lil rodeo vibe she had going on, but the more her pussy lips clapped down on me, the more I started edging. I let her take control for a minute, but that minute quickly turned into a second as her hip grinding began to slow down. The batteries in that energizer bunny were at 20%... but thats what Zaddy Sean is here for. 😏

Right as she was on her way up, I stopped her and I kept her right in that position, pounding that 🎂 until all I heard was Mac n cheese stirring.

But shit, at this point it was time to make that Mac n cheese creamy. I got prepared for the finale as we moved into sex position #95.

I had her face on the pillow and I made her spread them cheeks before I dove in back. And for some reason, this position always gets me. Idk if it’s the fluffiness of the ass that gets my rocks off or the fact that the thigh clenching makes everything feel tighter. Who knows. But I didn’t have time to contemplate that.

With a few more strokes I was about to fuckin explode. I grabbed her extra tight, squeezing them titties and pushing extra deep until her moans went from tenor to soprano.

“Only a few more seconds baby,” I said in my head.. “just a few more seconds.”

I put a flex in my hips when I felt that good moment coming, and on my last stroke of edging, when I hit her spot, she squeezed her cheeks extra tight... and that was the extra umph that I needed to let loose.

I wanted to paint her back 💦 but the hooded Kermit in me said “naw, leave that shit in big dawg.” 😏

So, I hit my last pumps like a New Years countdown. 5... 4... 3.... 2... making sure my last hit was the strongest. I held it there as my body spasmed and my perineum pulsated, leaving me temporarily paralytic.

Cuz that’s what good pussy will do to ya.

I took a second to savor the moment because my horny-ness hadn’t completely subsided yet. By the time I was ready to pull out, my jimmy was slowly becoming soft & squishy again.

With the head still sensitive, I slowly abort, careful to keep the condom in tact. She’s about as sleepy as I am now, and as I withdrew, she stole a peek of me staring at all the nut weighing down the tip of my condom.

It was mutually understood that we were both tapping out, but we mustered up enough energy to quickly shower up. The whole time in the shower I’m still mesmerized by her beauty, all horny-ness aside.

We towel off in about ten minutes and return to the room before I quickly throw some fresh sheets on my bed.

She basically invited herself to spend the night and who was I to say “no” to her. Cute ass. She knew she was my Achilles heel. So, as we lay in our resting position before dozing off, the question circled back around in my head...

How the hell did she know I was alone? 🤔

[bluesfortheredj]

You were his childhood crush, his teenage crush… Hell, you were his one and only crush, and he’d not stopped thinking about you since you’d moved away all those years ago. He was lucky you’d gone into acting as he had done, and could find out what you’d been up to throughout the years, making sure he watched everything you starred in just to see that pretty face once again. As soon as you’d joined instagram, he followed you, and when you followed him back almost as quickly, his finger hovered many times over the message button, but never quite managed to press on it. Every photograph you uploaded was liked by him, and you returned the favour as you often scrolled through his pictures, although never making direct contact either.

The next project you were set to work on was still in the casting stage, and you were getting updates from your agent on who was being interviewed for the male lead to play opposite you. There was an exciting list of people who had auditioned, but there was one person the production team were eager to see, although they were keeping it under wraps for now.

“Hello!” you smile cheerily down the phone after seeing your agent’s name pop up.

“Exciting news… They want you to come in for a chemistry test with the person they’ve chosen.”

“Ooh! And who is this person?”

“Only the impossibly handsome Richard Madden!”

“Uh… Woah...” you stutter.

“Well, you could sound a little more enthusiastic...”

“I am! It’s uh… It’s exciting,” you say, forcing a more upbeat tone, “send me the details then, and I’ll see you there!”

You quickly hang up and stand there in your living room for a while, trying to take in the fact you were about to see Richard again after almost a decade. The email comes through, and you see they want you in tomorrow, then a sudden panic washes over you as you start to worry about what to wear. It was stupid, you know, but those familiar feelings from when you were a teenager start to come flooding back as you think about seeing him once again.

Black jeans, a striped top, and a leather jacket was your outfit of choice for seeing Richard, although you were questioning yourself all the way to the office, wondering whether it was too casual. As you walk into the building with your coffee in hand, you hope that you’re there before him, although you’re not entirely sure what advantage that would give you, as you’d probably end up worrying about whether sitting or standing would be best. You get to the door, give a short knock, then when you hear an ‘enter’, you open it to see Richard straight away, and your heart leaps out of your chest.

The both of you gravitate towards each other in silence, ignoring the people sat behind the table against the wall, and without saying a word, you both reach your arms out and hug one another tightly. Emotions wash over you, causing tears to prick your eyes as you bury your head in his neck, and he hides his face in your shoulder as he too tries to contain his feelings. The embrace lasts a lot longer than it should, but neither of you care, and when you eventually part, you’re both grinning widely.

“Hi,” you breathe.

“Long time, no see,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“Very long time,” you chuckle.

You finally turn your attention to the producers sitting at the table, then you get given a script each and run through them to see how compatible you both were, although after your greeting, there really was no need now. Obviously it goes swimmingly, and there’s no doubt that you’d work perfectly on screen together. You get your feedback, then when you both leave there’s an awkward silence as you wonder where to go from here.

“Did you-”

“Do you want-” you both speak at the same time as you walk out of the building together, and laugh nervously.

“Ladies first,” Richard smiles.

“Thank you. I just wondered if you wanted to have a well overdue catch up?”

“Absolutely. Think it’s about time, don’t you?”

“Definitely. Do you want to come to mine?”

“Sounds good to me,” he smiles, and you make the short journey to your house. When you arrive, you take his coat, then direct him to the living room while you sort out drinks, and you place two glasses of wine on the coffee table next to the sofa before taking the opposite end of the couch.

“So,” you sigh, “how have you been?”

“Good. Yeah, really good thanks, and you?”

“Yeah, same, all good!” you reply, then shake your head a little, “is it me, or is this a little awkward?”

“It is, isn’t it? It shouldn’t be, though.”

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact. I’ve been meaning to message you, but I just couldn’t find the words to say.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just as guilty for that. Always typing out a message, but never sending it.”

“Why is it like this?” you sigh, taking a sip of wine.

“It was never the same after you left,” he admits, and you feel a little shocked, “I feel like I’ve been pining after you all these years, and now you’re here, I’m not sure what to do.”

“Pining? We were teenagers, I know what you said at the time, but it was just-”

“It was more than that, (Y/N), so much more,” he says sadly, shaking his head slowly, “you really have no idea, do you?”

“About what?”

“How deep my feelings ran… Run, even. Everything’s just come flooding back, and I don’t know if I can keep this to myself any more.”

“Then don’t. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Everything that I felt back then, except amplified because… Well, look at you!”

You look away from him, feeling guilty for leaving all those years ago, and you take a deep breath.

“I was really nervous about today,” you start, “like, really nervous. And when I opened that door and saw you, I felt like I did back then, and my heart stopped.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know. This is all… So surreal. Seeing your first love and still feeling exactly the same way? This is mad.”

“So, you still feel it?” he asks hopefully.

“Of course. I just don’t know how this is going to work, or if it’s a good idea if we’re going to be working so closely.”

“Don’t go running off again, please,” Richard begs.

“No, no. I couldn’t do that again.”

“Will you just at least give this a chance to see what happens?”

“Yes,” you reply without having to even think about it. He shuffles towards you, planting a hesitant kiss on your lips, and then returns to his end of the sofa with a smile. Second chances like this never usually happened in real life, so you weren’t going to let him slip through your fingers again.

Request: Hello! :)Is it okay if I request a Richard imagine? Maybe reader and Richard have known each other since childhood, though Richard had feelings for her since they were teenagers but reader moved away? They don't see each other for years until they both end up being co-stars in a film or TV show, they have a really cute reunion and maybe later in the night reader invites Richard to their place where there a lot of sad angsty emotions happen as he tells reader that he still has feelings for them.

@springlady @nkalli @givemeanorigami @teaxcupxcake @pineapplebooboo @itisjustmethistime @parkerplexed @king4thesirens @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @aynsleywalker @koalajayisindabuilding @godohammers

[anamericannightmareinpa]

Let’s Dance {Michael Clifford}

There were not many people that Michael trusted with his hair; Lou Teasdale and himself were the only two for a long time until he met the woman he was marrying in less than twenty-four hours. She had come into his life like a goddamn hurricane and turned it upside down from everything he knew in the best way possible. One of the first things she had addressed was the dryness of his hair and how brittle it got when he stripped the off-the-wall colors in order to change it. Now he was never without coconut oil in his bag on the road and their medicine cabinet at home was an amalgamation of different brands of the miracle substance.

Naturally, this meant that Michael was spending his last night of being an unmarried man with his hair shiny and slick from the oil and wrapped up in a towel (like she had taught him) to keep the heat in. He wanted to have his hair looking smart for his bride the next day.

“I should take a picture of you and put it on Instagram,” Calum chuckled from the loveseat across from him. “I’m sure the fans would just eat this up!”

Michael shrugged. “They’ve seen me looking a hell of a lot weirder, mate.”

Calum could only laugh at his friend as they both began scrolling through their respective Twitter feeds, the silence that followed comforting. It reminded Michael of when they were younger and hanging out after school in his bedroom, ignoring their homework in favor of searching dumb YouTube videos in each other’s presence.

“Is it weird knowing you’re getting married tomorrow?” Calum asked, breaking the silence some time later as his best friend’s fiancé popped up in his feed saying how she needed her beauty rest for the next day.

“Kinda,” Michael admitted as he set his phone to the side. “I mean, I don’t think it’s weird to know that I’m marrying her because she’s the only person I’ve ever thought about marrying for real. She’s it and I know it. It’s weird to think that I’m getting married in general though. Like, I’m still just some punk ass kid from Sydney who dropped out of school to be in a band. I always thought that adults were the ones who got married and I guess I don’t feel like an adult. I feel like we’re just two kids who know we’re it for each other. Does that make sense?”

The bassist nodded with a smile on his lips. He was happy that one of his oldest friends was about to move forward in his life with the woman who helped bring out his best. Michael deserved to be happy.

~*~*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

‘The coconut oil last night was a good decision,’ Michael thought as he checked himself in the mirror one last time. His hair looked healthy and bright. He was clean-shaven and his suit looked really good if he did say so himself.

He was ready to be married.

He chuckled to himself as the realization hit him and he turned his back on the mirror to exit the small powder room attached to the office where his groomsmen were gathered. Michael surveyed them like a general, giving each of them a onceover just to be sure they were completely dressed and ready.

“Stop biting your lip,” Ashton chastised him. “If she walks down that aisle only to find you with a bloody lip she’ll kill you before you get the chance to say ‘I do.’”

Michael hadn’t even realized that he’d been biting his lip, but he composed himself quickly knowing that the drummer was right.

Luke rested a hand on his shoulder. “We gotta get out there. You ready, mate?”

Taking a deep breath, Michael nodded. He waited until all of his groomsmen had filed out the door before following behind them, breaking off to head to the front of the church while they headed back towards the bridal room.

When he walked out to take his place to the left of the officiant, his eyes scanned the crowd.  It was amazing to see all the people from his life and her life that wanted to be here to see them make it their life. He immediately caught sight of his parents across from hers in the front two rows. He smiled when he spotted John Feldmann and his family next to the Madden brothers and their families (Michael never thought Nicole Richie or Cameron Diaz would be at his wedding but some things in life are really weird). Alex and Lisa Gaskarth were behind them—Alex having a protective hand on the tiny bump under Lisa’s dress—with the other members of All Time Low close by.

“It’s wonderful to look out and see all those who love you, isn’t it?” the officiant asked, catching the groom’s attention. Michael could only nod because he thought if he opened his mouth all that would come out would be a tiny squeak. He was nervous that something would go wrong like that ridiculous miniseries she had made him watch when they first got together, but deep down he knew that he was just anxious because this was a really fucking important day and he would die of embarrassment if he messed it up somehow.

After what felt like an eternity to Michael, the woman across the way from him began to play a light processional on the organ and the doors at the back of the church opened.

Ashton and her youngest sister entered first, the height difference not as comical as it was the night before at the rehearsal since this time she had on her heels. Both of them smiled as cameras flashed on either side of them. Ashton being used to it, was calm as could be—happy actually, to be photographed doing something important instead of buying a cup of coffee. Her sister was beaming, happy to have a tiny slice of the attention on her oldest sister’s big day.

Next came Luke and her other sister, just a few years younger than her. Unlike Ashton and her youngest sister, those two were still as awkward as the night before. While Luke was used to the flashing of the cameras and having a lot of eyes on him, he wasn’t used to it with a lanky girl in heels clinging to his arm for dear life. Her poor sister looked like a deer caught in the headlights as she cautiously walked forward with Luke.

As best man, Calum entered next with the maid of honor, her best friend, on his arm.  They walked together with ease, used to all of the cameras flashing every time they went out. Dating a rockstar made her best friend adjust to the attention quickly and it showed as they glided arm-in-arm down the aisle with confidence. Each of them gave a reassuring smile to Michael as they reached the front and parted ways to go to their respective positions.

The organ music changed to the wedding march then, and everyone rose from their seats to get a good look at the bride as she made her grand entrance. Having chosen to walk alone, she moved in a perfect line down the center of the aisle as everyone around her scrambled to get a picture. She kept her gaze forward and a small smile on her perfectly painted lips.

Michael was in awe as he watched her grow closer, more tiny details catching his attention. He took in the sparkle of the beading on her dress as it caught the bright church lights and the way it matched the sparkle of her earrings perfectly. On her left wrist he spied the bracelet he got her for their first Christmas together, the delicate silver loops intertwined just north of the engagement ring she had been wearing proudly for almost a year.

It wasn’t until she was directly in front of him that he noticed the aged medallion around her neck, St. Christopher’s likeness surrounded by a prayer for protection. The family heirloom that her mother kept in a display case in the den of their home was an interesting sight for Michael. He had never seen it outside the case in all the time they were together.

He flicked his eyes from the medallion up to her eyes as he reached his hand out to help her up the stairs separating them from the officiant.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as they climbed the stairs together.

~*~*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~

As great as it was to actually marry her, Michael was excited for the reception. He knew parties between their two families were fun but now they were adding in the rest of the band and numerous other musicians who were going to take full advantage of the bar. There was no better recipe for a party in his opinion.

After getting their pictures taken for what felt like an eternity, they were able to make their way to the reception with the rest of the wedding party. They didn’t wait long before the groomsmen and bridesmaids entered the expansive ballroom, followed by the newlyweds who had decided to enter the reception to the “Imperial March” from Star Wars.

Toasts were made by her best friend, father, and each of Michael’s band members which segued into the quick serving of dinner to the guests. Everyone ate and chatted merrily as the DJ played classic rock ballads from REO Speedwagon and Led Zeppelin. Laughter flowed as freely as the drinks from the bar when the bride and groom cut the cake, the pair smiling just long enough for the photographer to snap a sweet picture before smashing slices into each other’s mouths.

Their first dance as husband and wife was slow, close, and intimate- they swayed together effortlessly. The soft chords of the song they danced to blurred Michael’s gaze into tunnel vision which led directly to her smiling face and wide, excited eyes. Even when their first dance ended and every other importance dance ensued, he couldn’t focus completely on anything except her and the pure joy on her face.

The joy escalated as the night wore on. Laughter loud and sweet as church bells poured from her mouth when he went under her dress for the garter and when she threw the bouquet, her dimples popped out from her flushed cheeks as every guest lined up to take their turn to dance with the bride (after taking a quick tequila shot, of course), and happy tears gleamed at the corners of her eyes as she swayed with Michael to the last song of the night, whispering to him how she couldn’t wait to have their first breakfast together as The Clifford’s.

“In honor of it, I won’t even eat scrambled eggs,” she giggled, knowing he hated eggs.

Michael beamed. “I love you, Mrs. Clifford.”

[strawberriestyles]

Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst & smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so... there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine

You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

It’s a Friday—technically Saturday since it’s nearly two A.M.—and you’re clean from the shower, snuggled on the couch in some pajama pants and a tank top with a glass of wine. You’ve been watching some of your favorite eighties movies as a sort of self-prescribed method of relaxation. It feels nice, a distraction from your thoughts. You’re just giggling at some cheesy joke when the doorbell rings—and then rings again, and again, and again in quick succession.

You pause your movie and set your glass down on the table, frustrated at the intrusion. The cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on your arms, and a chill runs up your spine when a gust of wind rushes through the door as you open it. Your heart falls into the depths of your stomach.

“Harry.”

“Y/N,” he says with a smile, a bit more cheerful than you would expect. “Hullo. Wanted t’ see yeh.”

“It’s two in the morning,” you inform him, jaw setting. He’s not getting into the flat this time, not unless there’s a discussion that settles all the questions you’ve had.

“’S it really?” He glances down at a bare wrist and chuckles to himself, leaning against the door frame. “’M not wearin’ a watch. Thought I was.”

Your mouth deepens into a frown. His voice is drawling even more than usual, and when he looks back up at you with another chuckle, you can smell beer on his breath.

“Harry, are you drunk?”

“’M pissed,” he corrects you with a little stumble forward. You catch him with a hand to his chest and help lean him against the door frame again, a sigh making its way from your lips.

“Why are you here? And how did you get here?”

“Walked.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, swaying just slightly.

“Jesus, Harry. You could’ve been hit by a car or something.”

“I like walkin’. Can I come in?”

You pause, long enough for Harry to open his eyes again and stare at you silently. The happy silliness has been drained from his system now, which means he’s crossed the line into Serious Drunk Harry.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you speak softly, avoiding his eyes. When he’s drunk, you always somehow find him more endearing. The wall you’ve built is already beginning to crumble and allowing him in will obliterate it.

“Please, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing at one of his eyes. “Jus’ let me sit down and have some water. Then yeh can kick me out ‘f yeh want.”

“Harry, why are you here?”

“I dunno,” he answers exasperatedly. “I dunno, but can yeh jus’ let me in?”

It’s like déjà vu, but this time Harry doesn’t have to wedge himself through the door, you open it for him. He looks a bit surprised, but doesn’t hesitate to walk inside, toeing off his shoes. You close the door behind him and chew on your lip, already sure you’re going to regret this.

“I’ll get you some water,” you mumble, padding off toward the kitchen. You fill up a glass with water and then set it down, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed and your eyes closed. What’s wrong with you? You recall firmly telling yourself this wouldn’t happen again, but here Harry is in your apartment.

There’s quiet chatter from the living room and you pick up the glass again, making your way into the living room. Harry is on the couch, leaned back lazily, legs spread wide. Your film is playing and his eyes are glued to the screen, hair wild like he’s been running his fingers through it. You hold out the water and draw his attention.

“Thanks,” he says as he takes the glass from you. “Good movie.” He takes a few sips of water and then sets it down on the coffee table as you sit on the other end of the couch.

“Did I fuck up tha’ bad?” He sighs and stares down the length of the sofa at you, frowning in frustration. You’re so far away, much further than he would hope. There have been many movie nights on this same couch and never before has the center cushion been empty. He’s actually worried now, that his actions have put insurmountable distance between the two of you. He’s only ever wanted to be closer.

“Harry,” you warn him, gaze focused on the screen although you aren’t processing anything that’s happening.

“Y/N,” he mocks, reaching a hand out to grip your arm and pull you toward him.

“Harry, stop-”

Before you finish speaking, he’s got you tucked into his side, face pressed into your shoulder and arms holding you in place. You can feel his breaths against your skin. You remain still, hands flat in your lap and body upright. It’s maddening, how you can feel every ounce of will slipping from you. You’re angry and confused and hurt, but you want him despite yourself.

“Smell good. Can yeh please,” he begins, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder that already have your heart pounding in your chest, “please not push me away?”

“Harry,” you attempt to warn him again, but your voice is weak and airy. This is everything you didn’t want to happen when you let him in, but your every nerve is screaming to let it happen.

He lifts his head and slides a hand into your hair, turning you to face him. You squeeze your eyes closed when he presses his forehead to yours and settles his lips just at the corner of your mouth.

“'S it okay?” He lifts his other hand to cup your cheek and rubs his thumb along your jaw. “Tell me ‘s okay,” he mumbles desperately.

“I-” You can feel his lips against your skin, feel the heat of his body so close to you, and your thoughts are shut off again, just like last time. “Okay.”

There’s a loud gust of breath that Harry was holding, and then his mouth is covering yours, hands pulling you even closer, roaming your body, yanking you into his lap. His tongue finds its way between your lips and your hands into his hair. It feels soft in your fingers.

Harry’s arms wind around your waist, hands snaking under your tank and squeezing at your hips. He pulls you tight against him, breasts pressed to his chest. His hips lift to rub against you and you pull away gently, fingers sliding from his hair down to his jaw.

“Harry, you’re drunk,” you whisper. He leans in to press slower kisses to your lips. “We can’t.”

“’M not tha’ drunk.”

You roll your eyes, but he settles back into the couch. “I’m not having sex with you when you’ve been drinking.”

“Okay,” he complies with a sigh, rolling your tank top up your torso. “Fine, jus’ let me make yeh feel good, love.”

“What-”

“Let me taste yeh.” He peels your shirt off your body and lets his mouth fall to your neck. He grips your chin and turns your head to open up your skin to him, grazing his teeth below your ear. “Want yeh on m’face.”

You groan, reveling in the feel of his stubble scratching along your collarbone. He twists around and lays you back so suddenly that you gasp, clinging to his shoulders. He chuckles at you and presses a few wet kisses to your chest before tugging down your pants and underwear, brushing them off onto the floor. His mouth closes around a bit of flesh on the inside of your thigh, suckling just hard enough for you to feel a bit of a sting before he pulls away. Then he leans back on his knees, pulling you up into a sitting position.

“What-”

“Said on m’face, love,” he reminds you, maneuvering himself to lie down. He settles his head back against the arm of the couch and pulls you up his body from where you’re seated against his torso. A heated blush creeps up into your face when you’ve reached his shoulders, but he tugs you impatiently. “C’mon, now. Don’ be shy. Be good fo’ me.”

“Harry, I don’t know-”

You gasp when he lefts his head and swipes his tongue firmly between your folds. Everything’s moved so quickly, it feels like it’s only been a minute since you sat down on the couch.

“Taste better than I even imagined,” he mumbles. This time he waits until you’ve settled into a comfortable position, legs spread wide, arm against the back of the couch for support. His arms wrap around your thighs and you take a deep breath to prepare before he pulls you down against his face again.

“Fuck.” Your head falls back almost instantly, hand tangling into Harry’s hair. His tongue laps at your center slowly, purposefully. The two of you have really strayed into unfamiliar territory, but it somehow feels natural. You try to push everything else from your mind.

“Tha’s it,” Harry mumbles when your hips slip forward, pressing his hands against your bum to encourage your movements. “Doin’ good for me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” His lips have wrapped around your clit, tugging at the sensitive bud roughly. He pulls away after a moment and continues licking at you, faster than before, flattening the muscle against you and dragging it up the length of your slit.

Your fingers tug at his hair, head lolling to rest against your arm on the back of the couch. Your legs are already beginning to feel like jelly. Harry jerks your thighs a bit to get your attention, delivering one more lick before pulling away to speak.

“Oi, don’ do that’, pet. Wanna watch yeh. Can’ see yeh when you’re hidin’ your face.”

You take a deep breath, lifting away from your arm to glance down at him. He looks obscene, hair wild from your hand, eyes blown wide and pupils dilated, mouth slick with your arousal. A soft moan leaves your lips and he smirks before burying his face back into your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit methodically, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“Holy-” You dig your teeth into your lip roughly, struggling to maintain eye contact. Your hips are moving of their own accord, chasing the release that’s mounting faster than you can think. Harry’s loving it, helping to move you on his mouth. His tongue wiggles between your folds and he allows you to rub against it, occasionally sucking your clit into his mouth.

“I’m gonna come,” you breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut and closing your fist around the fabric of the couch. Harry hums and shakes his head quickly, rubbing his tongue against you. Your body tenses, legs slipping ever-so-slightly. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you chant, letting out a soft cry as the knot in your tummy unwinds. Your body shakes, fingers gripping even tighter at Harry’s hair. He licks you through your high, pulling away after a minute and gripping your wrist with a chuckle.

“Gonna rip it outta my head, love,” he says, untangling your hand from his hair. He presses soft kisses over the insides of your thighs and winds his fingers through yours as you attempt to catch your breath, chest heaving. “C’mere.” He helps you slide down his body, laying you down on top of him. “Not drunk anymore,” he says with another soft chuckle.

Harry folds his arms around you to lock you against his chest, burying his face in your hair and inhaling the smell of your shampoo. You can feel the even rise and fall of his lungs as his fingers draw patterns into your bare back. It’s strange to be naked when he’s fully clothed.

“Harry?”

He hums against your scalp and squeezes your hip in response.

“Why did you kiss me? The first time?”

Harry rattles off a couple of rhymed lines and then you feel him stop breathing, his fingers freezing on your back. You’re frozen, too, momentarily, as you digest the words he’s relayed to you. They’re more of yours, from a poem about being spontaneous. You tilt your head up to find him staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, and your fingers press into his chest so you can push away from him, but his arms cross over your back.

“Y/N-”

“Let go of me.”

“No, no, stop. I didn’t mean t’-”

“You read my entire journal, didn’t you? Every last page. How could you invade my privacy like that?”

“I wasn’-”

“Is that another song?”

He’s silent now, and you can feel his heartbeat against your chest. You shove against him again.

“Harry, let me go.” You’re angrier than you were when you heard his performance, you think. Your vision is red and blurry, and when his hold doesn’t budge, you find yourself ready to scream. “Get off of me!”

You have to shove against him a few more times before you’re able to break his grip, but when you do, you’re pulling your clothes back on in record time.

“You haven’t even apologized.”

“Because ‘m not sorry! ‘M not gonna lie t’yeh!”

You’re surprised by the raise of his voice, but your eyes narrow at him.

“You say that like I actually trust you.”

He lets out a defeated breath and shakes his head. “Y/N, please don’-”

“I need you to get out. Please, just leave.”

“Don’ do this again. Love, I-”

“Harry.” You’re fully dressed now, icy gaze settled on his desperate face. “Leave. And this time, do not come back.”

“Yeh don’ mean tha’.”

“I do.”

You watch his face fall, but you couldn’t care any less at this moment. He slides from the couch and stands in front of you. You stare at his shirt, fuming in silence. You hear him suck in a breath as though he’s preparing to speak but nothing comes.

“This fuckin’ mouth o’ mine,” he mutters. It’s a few more moments before he shuffles out of view, and then another minute before you hear the door close gently as he leaves. With him goes your anger, and then the tears come at full force.

Part 3: Mind o’ Mine

[scifrey]

Get To Know The Writer

 Get to Know the Writer Tag

Rules (always post the rules): answer the questions given to you, write ten questions of your own, tag ten people.

@rosecorcoranwritessaid anyone who wants to do it can, and it looked interesting.

1.) Where did the title(s) of your latest project(s) come from?

 The titles for The Accidental Turn Series were sort of decided by a committee of my agent, my editor, my publisher and me. I’m rubbish at naming books, so through a series of emails a list of about a hundred throw-them-out-there titles were whittled down (mostly by Googling them and seeing if any other book had that title already) to a few themes. From there we narrowed down and named the first book (The Untold Tale, where I had been calling it That Feminist Meta Thingy), and then the other two books dominoed into place after that (The Forgotten Tale, and The Silenced Tale.)

These titles are because in book #1, the fantasy is being told from a side character who in fantasy-novel tropes is often overlooked. In book #2, other fantasy stories start vanishing, forgotten by the readers, and in book #3,someone is trying to silence the writer of these fantasy books forever.

 City By Night, one of my novellas, is also being reissued next month. Its original title was The Dark Side f the Glass, which was both an allusion to Alice Through The Looking Glass, as it’s about a woman who falls into a TV instead of through a mirror, and a tip of the head to the song of the same title from the soundtrack of one of the television shows the novella satirizes, Forever Knight. However, my agent thought the reference was too obscure, and after another big round of back-and-forth, it was decided to name the novella after the fake-TV show I made up for the story.

 The titles of the to books in The Skylark’s Saga (#1 The Skylark’s Song, and #2, The Skylark’s Sacrifice) are because I do love alliteration when I can get away with it! These are the only titles of the recent projects that I decided on my own and the rest of my team liked! Score!

2.) Do you have any rhyme or reason behind your character names?

Sometimes yes, sometimes no. For the Accidental Turn Series fantasy books, I stole a lot of street names or snipped letters out of traditionally “European” names, like Kintyre, Forsyth, and Bevel to make them look suitably fantasy-esque on the page. But when the characters come to the “real world” I made a point of surrounding them with characters who had distinctly non-white, no-European names like Ahbni, Ichiro, and Juan just to really emphasize how much more diverse the “real world” is over traditional fantasy. 

In Triptych, every friend who helped me with edits got a character named after them. And in The Skylark’s Saga I got a bit silly - the Sealies all have surnames inspired by pagan gods, the Saskwayins are colors, and the Klonn are plants.

3.) What is your writing routine, if any?

When possible, I like to write at night, in silence, and with only my desk lamp on.  I try to keep my desk area very tidy, too, with only notes about the project I’m immediately working on written on my whiteboard wall. I need the only mess to be what’s in my head.

I’m more of a pantser who has, by virtue of writing series, been forced to learn how to plan. But even then, my planning is pretty rudimentary. I often do this in a notebook on transit (I tend to come up with ideas when I’m in liminal spaces), and run that by my editor. If she approves the vague outline, then I often write whatever scene is foremost in my mind - whichever has really grabbed my imagination, and allows me to figure out who my characters are, what the voice is, who the narrators are.

From there I often write chapter one, and then usually skip straight to the climax of the book and write that. This way I know where I’m aiming before I properly knock the arrow. Even if the target eventually shifts, I still have a sense of its shape and location.

From there I tend to skip all over the narrative and write whatever arrests me or I have in the front of my mind. Once that’s done, I go back to the start and begin the process of filling in the gaps. If I get another idea, I’m always happy to jump ahead and do that.

Using Scrivener has made this process a thousand times easier than when I had to scroll-scroll-scroll through Word.

When I don’t have to go to my dayjob, I try to write about 4000 words per day. When I do, I am for 500-1669, which keeps me limber for NaNoWriMo.

4.) Where is the weirdest place you’ve ever written?

I actually wracked my brains on this one, and I was going t say something like “a 400 year old house on the top of a mountain in Japan” or “in the shadow of the Great Pyramids in Giza”, but honestly, the real answer is on my BlackBerry while high off my face on morphine in the emergency room. Apparently I wrote a GREAT short story, which I emailed to all my friends, and emailed them. Without telling anyone that I was in hospital with Organ Death ™. And without remembering at all that I’d done it.

5.) Do you prefer to write by hand or type?

Typing, hands down. I type way faster than I handwrite, and I get frustrated that my pen can’t keep up with my brain. If I get an idea when I’m away from the computer, I usually only jot down enough to remember the scene/idea/mood/exchange without writing it out. I despise having to do the work twice, and that’s what transcribing from paper to computer feels like.

6.) Ideally, where would you like to see your writing take you in five years?

I’d like to break this barrier there seems between me and the Big 5. My agent and I have been working at it, but there seems to be some strange gap. Lots of editors at the Big 5 like my work, but no one seems to want to sign it. I get compliments on my voice, on my word crafting, but no contracts. It’s so frustrating to be so close to the possibility of working with a team with more resources than I have so far. 

7.) Which character is most fun to write and why?

Now that Triptych is complete and being serialized on Wattpad, any opportunity to revisit Kalp is a delight. I love looking at the world through his eyes. Olly, from The Maddening Science was a lot of fun too, again because of the way I have to shove aside my own assumptions about how and why the world works and see it through the lens of his own intelligence and lived experience. And Bevel will never not be a hoot, because there’s something just so great about getting to be that crass, and to come up with dirty jokes that fit in a fantasy world.

8.) What advice would you give writers just starting out?

Read widely outside of the genre you want to write in. If you want to write fiction, read non-fic, pop sci, and academic papers. Read the news. Read blogs. Read things that are in your wheelhouse, but then randomly grab something from the library that looks cool. You never know where the next idea will come from. Let your imagination wander.

9.) Do you have any “writing heros”? (This could be published writers or non.)

Anyone giving it a go! It’ hard, and it’s disheartening when people don’t love something you’ve put so much work and heart into. It’’s easy to give up on. Don’t.

Otherwise, I love Dianne Wynne Jones’ blatant subversion of stereotypes and tropes, which has really informed my writing, an Jane Austen’s ability to create such diverse, thoughtful, and complex characters.

I also super appreciate fanfic writers, cause they do it out of sheer love, and work for years to hone their craft. Among my faves are @bendingsignpost @sheafrotherdon, and @madlori.

10.) Tell me about your work-in-progress.

 Oh lord, is this a can of worms you really want to open?

 The Silenced Tale & The Accidental Collection  - books #3 and #4 of The Accidental Turn Series  are done. They just need to be line-edited and then the editor can lock the manuscript and it’s out of my hands and into the typesetter/designer’s. (And then of course I need to ramp up to marketing machine.)

 Book #3 is the conclusion of a trilogy of books about a secondary character in  fantasy epic who becomes self-aware and slips the pages of his book.

 The Skylark’s Saga - The two books are written, but one of the relationships is changing dramatically and I need to go in and shift that. I have no idea how much writing/rewriting this is going to entail. However, I do know that I want to get it done by the end of the year. As soon as the manuscript for The Silenced Tale is locked, I’ll be moving onto this.

 This duology is a steampunk-adventure-romance book about a girl vigilante and her ornery rocketpack who gets trapped behind enemy lines after being shot down in a dogfight.

 The Austen Hollywood AU  - I’ve written the first book of the series, and my agent is shopping it now. It’s possible that it may only get signed as a one-book deal, but ideally I’ve developed it as a six-book series (one for each of Austen’s). At some point I’d like to write the first three chapters of the remaining five books, to demonstrate what the voice and tone of each is gong to be like. (Possibly for NaNoWriMo this year??)

 These books are modern adaptations of Austen’s work, but they will all intertwine as characters from different aspects of the entertainment industry cross paths, work together,  and as they do in the originals, find love and contentment.

 The Maddening Science  - at some point I’d like to develop my short story of the same name into a full-length novel, but it would take a lot of research on my part, and a lot of buy-in on a publisher’s. I’m not quite ready to tackle this one yet, though I have pitches and synopsizes and the like written.

Henrietta - This idea is relatively new idea, born from watching a documentary and then reading the non-fic biography that inspired it (see, reading outside your genre helps!), but I think I’d really like to take a swing a writing a historical romance based on the life of a certain historical mistress, something like The Other Boleyn Girl. It would take a massive amount of research as well, but I think would be really interesting and engaging. The woman’s life was fascinating.

The Neridis - I wrote this book about four years ago and it’s been trunked. I’d like to pull it back out and give it a spit-polish and a steam-up, then self publish it sometime next year under my erotica pseudonym. It’s a time-travel lesbian romance story that can easily be punched up into erotica.

And of course, there are three other books that are sort of hovering in the back of my mind, but I’m not ready to write them, or even really a pitch for them yet. The vampire one might be a screenplay instead, I’m not sure.

 Oh, and I am looking to place a script, too - I wrote it under spec for a company that later decided not to shift from distribution into development any more, so I’m not sure what do with 228 pages of cute lesbian comic-book creators falling love over lattes and superheroes. I keep thinking that it would make a great webcomic/graphic novel, but I have no idea how to find an artist willing to commit to like a 500-page graphic novel, and more importantly, find the money to pay them.

I tag whomever wants to jump in. No pressure.

[buzzedbabe]

Before I Dive... Chapter 7

@ritacavaliere @dulcedemani @calonlan15 @teaenthusiast65 @robbstarkmademedoit @olivermellors @mrsharington

Lily squealed when she opened the door to her hotel room to see Amy waiting for her.

“Hello!” she said, embracing the shorter woman.

“Hi!” Amy said.

“It's so good to see you. Your hair is adorable,” Lily said as she pulled Amy into the room and closed the door. “Richard told me you'd cut it recently. I wish I had the bollocks to just have a go at it.”

“It honestly wasn't planned. It just kind of happened, but I'm sure he told you that,” Amy giggled as she set down her bag. She looked around the suite, a bit wide-eyed. “Shit,” she whispered.

“I know, right?” Lily giggled. “So posh. And enough room for about 20 people to stay with us. It's so good of you to come. I would've been lonely in this big room by myself. Would you like something to drink?”

“Some water would be great. I'm a bit dry from the airplane.” Amy looked around slowly. “I feel like I shouldn't touch anything.”

“Nonsense,” Lily said. “Make yourself at home.”

Amy glanced over at Lily, seeing her outfit of a baggy navy jumper and rolled up jeans. She relaxed a little more seeing Lily’s bare feet. Amy slid off her shoes by the side of the couch before slowly sitting down.

“Oh, that's comfy,” she said, bouncing up and down slightly. “A girl could get used to this.”

Lily laughed as she sat down next to her, tucking her feet up under her. “So how are things?” she asked, handing her the bottle of water. “Lots of phone sex with a certain Scot?”

Amy blushed and hung her head. “No, nothing like that.”

“You guys are still...”

“We're...well, I don't know what we are,” Amy said, hand automatically moving to play with her necklace. “We've never really discussed it. We're not a couple, but I don't feel like we're just friends either.”

“Oh honey,” Lily sighed.

“No it's okay. We still flirt all the time. My sisters have already made the phone sex jokes. I just…” Amy's head dropped. “I don't exactly know where I stand with him.”

“Understood. How are you dealing with this?”

Amy looked up as Lily took her hand. “Do you promise not to tell Richard?”

Lily nodded, zipping her lips.

“I'm trying to figure out how to come back to London,” she whispered.

“That's great. How long were you thinking of staying?”

“Forever,” Amy said blushing.

Lily’s eyes widened before a grin broke out on her face. “Oh my gosh! Yes! That's great! Do you need any help?”

Amy breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, please. All the paperwork is making me cross-eyed with confusion. Lots of bureaucratic bullshit.”

“Let's get to it then!” Lily said, clapping her hands, then rubbing them together. “Oh I love it. Can we surprise Richard? We are totally going to surprise this boy!”

“That was the thought,” Amy laughed as she got up to get her laptop out of her bag. “I'm really hoping to have everything finalized before his birthday.”

“Oh I love that idea!”

They both screamed, startled when Amy's phone started ringing, then burst out laughing. Amy answered it, Richard's face popping up on the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” she laughed.

“Who? Me?” he asked.

Amy sat back down next to Lily on the couch.

“Yes, you,” Lily giggled.

“Were you talking about me?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yup,” Amy said. “How's the sand removal coming along?”

“I think I've got it all. Might have to fly you out to inspect things though,” he said winking.

“In your dreams, Madden,” Amy giggled.

“Every night! How are you girls doing?”

“Good. Just got here a while ago. Just relaxing.”

“Trying to get her to realize this suite isn't a museum, that she is allowed to touch things and sit on the furniture,” Lily teased.

“Well excuse me, Miss Superstar, if I've never stayed at the Four Seasons. I don't think I've even stayed at a One Season,” Amy laughed.

“It's a hotel.”

“Is the bathtub the size of a swimming pool?”

“Maybe a small one…”

“Then it's fancier than...

“I'll let you girls get back to your relaxing,” Richard interrupted, smiling. “Just wanted to say hello.”

“We'll try to keep talk about you to a minimum,” Lily said. “Although I'm curious about what this sand removal business talk is.”

“Amy, if you love me, you will keep that discussion private. Please say you love me,” he muttered.

“Bye, Richy!” Lily said, grabbing Amy's phone and hanging up. She turned to see Amy had a shocked look on her face, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

“Do I love him?” she whispered, letting a soft sob escape. “Oh, God, I think I'm in love with him. But how do I make him see that?”

Lily gathered Amy into her arms, letting her cry, all the while Lily’s resolve strengthening to help her friends realize their feelings for each other.

“It just figures you would choose to call right at this exact moment,” Amy whispered answering her phone.

Richard's brow furrowed as she wiped her eyes. “Why are you crying?”

“Because Lily let me borrow her laptop so I could watch ‘Cinderella’ because I’d never seen it and...the king...and you...crying...” she explained.

He smiled knowingly. “Just so you know, those weren't all fake tears,” he told her. “Derek really became a father figure to me during filming.”

“Oh God!” she said, more tears starting to fall. She waved her hand in front of her face, trying to control her emotions. “Not helping! So not helping!”

“Sorry,” he said. “Would it help if I told you there is a happy ending?”

“Most fairy tales do,” she said, a half-smile on her face.

“What if I told you they made me wear a jockstrap to hide my…umm...” he trailed off trying to find the word he was looking for.

“Little Richard?” Amy giggled as Richard nodded sheepishly. “You mean Disney didn't want to traumatize little girls everywhere?”

“You want a good laugh, search for video of when I was on Jimmy Kimmel. I explain how we did screen tests for those damn tight white pants,” he laughed. “And before you say anything, I refuse to call them leggings.”

“I might just do that while I'm waiting for Lils to get back.”

“And where is Miss Superstar?” Richard asked.

“Some photo shoot or something. Then I think she said we’re going out tonight,” Amy said, absently playing with her necklace.

“Since you have some time, there's something I think we maybe need to talk about.”

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“Well, it's just...what I mean is…” he said, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “We haven't…”

Amy looked horribly confused as he struggled to find the exact words to express himself.

“Is everything okay?” she whispered.

“Yes. I mean, maybe. I mean…”

“Richard, you're not making any sense.”

He looked up to see her brow furrowed. He sighed, realizing he didn't want to try and have this conversation over the phone.

“I guess I just wanted to say that you're a really good friend. I hope you know that.”

Amy smiled but he could see it didn't reach her eyes.

“Thank you?” She stared at him a moment. “Is that really what you were struggling to say?”

She could tell he had chickened out on what he was really struggling to say.

“For now,” he said so she decided to let it drop.

“I think you're a great friend too. Be a good catch for some lucky girl out there.”

His heart skipped a bit. “You could be that lucky girl.”

“I could,” she whispered, biting her lip, “if there wasn't a literal ocean between us.”

He nodded. “A small problem to be sure.”

“Look, Richard…”

“Are you ready to party?” Lily shouted as she entered the room. “I just heard about this awesome bar that has karaoke tonight!”

She plopped down onto the couch next to Amy and saw Richard on her phone.

“Hi, Richy! Bye, Richy!” she giggled.

“Karaoke, huh? You girls have fun tonight,” he said smiling. “Just watch out for this one, Amy. She'll try and sneak your name onto the list without your knowing.”

“It was one time, and it was because you were the only one sitting out,” Lily said, pouting.

“Because you know I can't sing,” Richard laughed.

“Entirely not the point of karaoke,” Amy said quietly.

“Thank you!” Lily said.

“Remind me to never go out to karaoke with either of you,” he said.

“Hey, Richard?” Amy asked.

“Yes?”

“Don't go out to karaoke with Lily and me,” she giggled.

He shook his head with a smile on his face.

“Talk soon,” Lily said, waving before Amy hung up the phone. “And what were you two discussing so intently?”

“I'm not exactly sure. And I don't think he knows either,” Amy sighed. “He looked like he was struggling to tell me something, but maybe changed his mind last second.”

“Well, tonight, we are going to go out and have fun,” Lily said, pulling Amy up off the couch. “Drink away all of our problems!”

“Why am I frightened all of a sudden?” Amy asked, making Lily laugh.

Richard groaned as his phone went off. He laid in bed, trying to ignore it, but the messages kept coming. He rolled over, cursing when he saw it was only 5:30. Lily had sent him multiple pictures, some videos, and a single final text requesting they have dinner the day she got back to London, they needed to talk.

Realizing he was now fully awake, he rolled out of bed to make himself a cup of tea before looking at Lily’s messages. As the water boiled, he leaned against the counter, wondering what Lily wanted to discuss. He looked over at his phone when it went off again. He smiled when he saw a single message from Amy.

Amy: If Lily sent you anything, don’t believe her. None of it's true. She's DRUNK. ;)

He chuckled, intrigued. He opened Lily’s text and scrolled up to the first message. It was a picture with 4 upside down shot glasses on a table as Amy and Lily laughed in the background, taking another shot. He shook his head, realizing he had forgotten to warn Lily that Amy was a lightweight.

The second picture, Amy and Lily stood back to back, eyes closed and singing karaoke, and the back of Lily’s head rested on top of Amy's. He had never realized how short Amy was compared to Lily.

He burst out laughing when the third picture loaded, revealing Amy, pouting at the camera holding an empty martini glass upside down. It wasn't her face however making him laugh. The grey t-shirt she had paired with a short denim skirt had his face on it. He noticed writing under the Game of Thrones picture, so he zoomed in on the picture to see “WWRD What Would Robb Stark Do?”. He made a mental note to ask Amy where she had gotten this gem.

After that picture, Lily had sent a few videos. Just as he went to start the first one, the kettle whistled. He turned off the flame under the kettle, pouring the hot water into the mug he had gotten ready, the tea bag floating to the top. He watched as the water slowly turned a dark brown, fishing the tea bag out with a spoon before taking the mug and settling himself onto the couch.

He pressed the play button on his phone, the first video loading. It showed Lily glaring at Amy as she walked up to the karaoke setup. He quickly turned up his volume as he saw Lily starting to sing. He laughed again when he figured out Lily was singing “California Gurls” by Katy Perry. He could hear Amy laughing in the background of the video. The video cut out before the end of the song, but Richard was glad because he was working to control his laughter. He took a few sips of tea before starting the next video.

“Lily Chloe Ninette Francesca Maria Suzanne Holly Theresa,” he heard Amy mutter.

“I do not have that many names! You knew the deal, Amy. We pick each other’s songs this round,” Lily said pushing Amy from the table towards the karaoke setup. “I sang my song. So get your cute butt up there.”

The camera zoomed in as Amy stepped up and took the microphone from the DJ. He heard soft piano music playing and Amy took a deep breath before starting to sing.

I miss those blue eyes

How you kiss me at night

I miss the way we sleep

Like there's no sunrise

Like the taste of your smile

I miss the way we breathe

But I never told you

What I should have said

No, I never told you

I just held it in

He knew he recognized the song but couldn’t name it. All he knew is his stomach had been set alight with butterflies as Amy sang. Her voice struck a chord somewhere deep in his heart. He watched intently as Amy closed her eyes and could swear he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

And now,

I miss everything about you

Can't believe that I still want you

And after all the things we've been through

I miss everything about you

Without you, oh

He recognized the song finally as Amy sang the chorus and was both cursing and thanking Lily at the same time for picking that particular song. 

I see your blue eyes

Every time I close mine

You make it hard to see

Where I belong to

When I'm not around you

It's like I'm not with me

He tried to take a drink of his tea, swallowing the lump in his throat. He could see it written on Amy’s face that she was struggling to make it through the song.

But I never told you

What I should have said

No, I never told you

I just held it in

And now,

I miss everything about you

Can't believe that I still want you

And after all the things we've been through

I miss everything about you

Without you, oh

The video cut off, Richard silently cursing. He set his phone on the couch next to him as he cradled his mug. He stared out the balcony door, mind reeling. He knew exactly why Lily wanted to have dinner. What was he going to tell her?

But how would you make things work?

It’s not like it’s never been done. You’ve done the distance thing before.

You haven’t seen her in person since she went home. How is that fair to either of you?

It’s not fair. But maybe if you made it official, you would make more of an effort.

Why aren't you making more of an effort now?

You're just friends. It's not the same. If she was your girlfriend, you'd be different.

You would have to make most of the effort. You’re the one with all the money.

She’s not about the money. She would make an effort regardless.

She shouldn’t have to. You should already be making an effort.

Maybe I’m not making more of an effort because you’re not sure about your feelings for her.

Maybe you should tell her and go from there.

Maybe you should wait and see what Lily has to say.

He sighed, taking another drink from his mug. His phone alerted him to another message. He glanced down and saw it was from Kit.

Kit: Amy and Lily just drunk dialed me

Richard: Yeah, I got messages from both of them about 20 minutes ago

Richard: Couldn't go back to sleep

Kit: Me either

Kit: Want to meet for breakfast?

Richard: Sure

He realized he had one more video and decided to preview it just in case he shouldn’t show it to Kit. The camera focused on Amy’s face as she took a long drink from a martini glass swirled with chocolate.

“Who do you wish were here tonight?” he heard Lily ask.

“Richard fucking Madden,” Amy giggled in a bad British accent. “And Kit ‘I’m Jon fucking Snow’ Harington.”

“What would you tell Kit if he were here?”

“To smile more, dammit! He’s got such a beautiful fucking smile! He always looks so fucking brooding in pictures and I want to see him fucking smile! I’d also tell him to take his fucking hair down from that fucking bun. I think he looks fucking silly, and his hair is fucking gorgeous.”

He watched as Amy sloshed some of her drink as she pointed at Lily with the martini glass. 

“And what would you tell Richy if he were here?” Lily giggled, taking the glass from Amy.

“I would tell Richard...hey! Give that back! I’m not done with that!”

Amy reached out for her glass. Lily laughed handing it back to her after taking a drink.

“Richard?” she asked again.

“Richard?” Amy looked around before realizing Lily was trying to get her to focus. “Right! Richard! I would tell Richard that he is one sexy motherfucker!” she said before taking another drink. “And that I miss his sexy fucking smile. Those beautiful fucking lips.” She played with a napkin on the table a moment before grinning up at Lily. “And his sexy fucking body,” she giggled, rubbing her hands over his face on her t-shirt, attempting to look seductive.

“And what would you do to him if he were here?” Lily asked, grabbing Amy’s drink and taking another sip.

Amy thought a minute, going back to shredding the napkin before giggling to herself.

“You’re meant to share it out loud,” Lily prodded.

“Oh,” Amy laughed. “I would jump into his arms, wrap my legs around his beautiful fucking body, lay my cheek against his, and thread my fingers into his beautiful fucking curls. And I would tell him that I wasn’t ever letting go.”

Richard’s eyebrow went up at this comment.

“That’s it?” Lily asked.

“What more do I need to say?” Amy bristled. “Ok, I’d tell him that he had a beautiful fucking ass too.”

The video cut off as the two girls burst out laughing.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he pushed up off the couch to get ready for breakfast with Kit.

Amy woke up, her forehead pressed against the ice bucket locked in her arms. Her head pounded, but she was relieved the nausea seemed to have passed. She heard Lily moan from the other side of the bed.

“Next time we do that,” Amy said, trying to get some saliva flowing in her mouth, “I'm setting the drinking pace.”

“Deal,” Lily croaked, turning to lay on her back.

“What did we do last night?”

“Learned that we are not to be trusted drinking just the two of us.”

Amy giggled softly, letting go of the ice bucket and slowly sitting up. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand, frowning.

“Why did Kit send me a picture of himself saying he hopes it helps with the hangover?” she muttered.

Lily cleared her throat, rolling away from Amy. Amy looked over and saw Lily examining her fingernails.

“Lily, what did you do?” Amy asked nervously.

“I might have sent Richy the videos and pictures from last night,” Lily whispered.

“Oh God,’” Amy said, turning beet red.

Lily glanced over, seeing Amy grab the ice bucket again.

“Are you going to be sick?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Amy said. “But I can tell you it won't be from the alcohol. What videos?”

“My song, your song, and the bit about what you would say to Kit and Richard had they been there last night,” Lily said, burying her face in her pillow.

“Lily! How...how...why?” Amy moaned. “Oh, God.”

Lily looked over at Amy, seeing she was upset, but not mad. Lily sat up and put her arm around Amy’s shoulders. Amy hung her head, pushing her hair out of her face.

“So I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” she whispered, leaning her head on Lily’s shoulder.

“Maybe not,” Lily said. “Maybe he’ll just think you were drunk and rambling.”

“But the song you picked… He’d be blind not to see…”

“I’ll talk to him when I get back to London. I’ll try and see where he stands. If anything, we planted a seed that will hopefully blossom on his birthday,” she said, rocking Amy gently.

Amy nodded, taking a deep breath. She pulled her hair back before turning to look at Lily.

“So what exactly did I say in the last video?” she asked.

“I believe you said that you wanted Kit to smile more and wear his hair down,” Lily giggled, reaching for her phone.

“Well that makes his picture make more sense,” Amy said smiling. She replied to Kit’s text telling him thank you and to keep up the good work. “And what exactly did I say…”

“Basically that Richard is a sexy beast and you wanted to jump him.”

“I said what?” Amy screeched.

“Or maybe it was jump on him. I can’t remember.”

Amy collapsed back on the pillow, knocking the ice bucket to the floor. “Can you just kill me now and spare me the embarrassment of having to talk to Richard ever again?”

“Maybe he’ll be a gentleman and never bring it up?”

Amy’s phone rang and she groaned, handing it to Lily. Lily laughed as she saw that it was Richard. She answered it, waiting for the video to connect.

“Hi Richy,” she said, leaning back on her pillow.

“Damn, I was hoping to wake you two up this morning like you did me,” he chuckled. “Wait. I called Amy’s phone.”

“Amy is currently unavailable,” Lily said, keeping her arm out of view as she shoved Amy back.

“Did you kill her last night? I forgot to tell you she’s a lightweight,” Richard sighed.

“No, she’s still alive. Maybe wishing she wasn't. I just put her in the shower a few minutes ago.”

Amy stayed back as Lily chatted with Richard. She wasn't sure what to say to Richard and was hoping Lily might gain her some insight.

“Those were some interesting texts I received at 5:30 this morning,” Richard said.

“We weren’t focused on time zones. We were having too much fun,” Lily giggled. “I think we may have called Kit after we texted you.”

“Aye, the two of us had breakfast this morning after not being able to go back to sleep. Had quite a good laugh at the two of you, Cali Girl,” he laughed.

“Did you have a laugh at everything?” Lily questioned, trying not to look up at Amy who was biting her lip nervously.

“No, just at the bits where a laugh was necessary. But you also know how to get a man’s brain working overtime. Not very nice that early in the morning,” he sighed.

“Working overtime?”

“Quit playing coy, Lily. You knew damn well what you were doing when you sent me those videos. You might have been drunk, but you sent me those on purpose.”

“Maybe I did,” she smirked.

“And that’s why you want to have dinner when you get home. When do you get home?”

“My flight is this afternoon. So we’ll have dinner tomorrow?”

Richard didn’t say anything but Lily smiled so Amy assumed he was nodding.

“Just out of curiosity, how exactly is your brain working overtime?” Lily asked.

“It’s...complicated,” he sighed. “How complicated everything has to be. How complicated it already is.”

Amy nodded to herself. She stood up from the bed, heading into the bathroom, leaving Lily to talk to Richard alone.

“We’ll talk about it more tomorrow,” Lily said, glancing up as Amy left the room. “I just heard the shower turn off.”

“Tell Amy I’ll chat with her later if she wants,” Richard said, a half smile on his face. “I’d like to ask her about her t-shirt.”

Lily nodded, giggling a bit. “Tomorrow then.”

She hung up the phone and then followed Amy into the bathroom. Amy sat on the edge of the bathtub, wringing her hands.

“It is complicated,” she whispered looking up at Lily.

“But you are working to make it less complicated,” Lily said, sitting down next to her. “You're working to remove a barrier keeping the two of you from being together.”

Amy nodded, trying to hold back her tears. “God, I hate being hungover. I turn into an emotional mess. And to top it off, you’re leaving this afternoon. Which is not helping.”

“But we still have a few hours together. And I’ll be calling often to make sure everything is on track. And I’m going to be your inside woman with Richard, so to speak. I'm going to make sure this works out,” Lily said, hugging her. “Or my name isn’t Lily Chloe Ninette Francesca Theresa Chiquita Banana.”

Song: “I Never Told You” by Colbie Caillat

[letthesleepingdoglie]

From Whence He Sprang - 09

Title: Never Left or Right

Part: 09 of 18

Rated: M

The Batcave

Gotham City

January 17th, 2012

17:24 EST

Team Year One

“You look like crap.” Artemis noted as she stepped off the open elevator platform that had brought her down into the Batcave.

Dick tore his gaze from the screen in front of him and turned to look over his shoulder at his friend. At least, he tried to. The movement was stiff and sluggish on account of the many bandages and stitches covering his exposed torso. It had taken Alfred the better part of an hour to patch up all the wounds that Dick had received from the fight last night, and the last thing that he wanted to do was tear all the meticulously stitched cuts open.

Now that the adrenaline from the events of last night had worn off, each and every one of the wounds he’d received ached and throbbed as he moved. The fight with the mysterious assassins had been so intense that he didn’t remember receiving half of them.

“You should see Bruce.” Dick grunted as he finally managed to complete his turn.

“Seriously?” Artemis asked, an expression of surprise on her face. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen the dark knight seriously injured. “What happened to you guys?”

Dick shrugged. “Assassins, sword fights, explosions. The usual.”

A cursory glance told him that she must have come straight from school; she was still wearing her hated Gotham Academy uniform.

“What brings you all the way out here?” He asked her, which was a valid question. Batman didn’t have a Zeta Tube installed in the cave, and Wayne Manor was a relatively long trip from her home in the East End.

It was Artemis’ turn to shrug. “You missed class. I was worried.”

Dick suppressed a small smirk, though he tried to hide it. Artemis always put on a tough front so that people wouldn’t see how vulnerable she truly was, but it was always endearing to see that she cared.

“Plus,” she continued, pulling a handful of papers from her backpack, “Barb wanted me to make sure you got your homework.”

Dick groaned, but took the papers from Artemis and flipped through them. It wouldn't take more than an hour to get through, but it would be tedious, and he had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Artemis took advantage of Dick’s momentary distraction to glance at the screen that he'd been working on. A meaningless scroll of names, numbers and code flashed across the screen.  “What’re you working on?”

“A difficult case.” He put his homework to one side and hit a few keys on the bat-computer’s keyboard, bringing up the relevant files and images for Artemis to skim through.

“About two weeks ago, Batman and I met a kid named Jason Todd and sent him over to the Catherine Hershey school. Yesterday, we got word from Commissioner Gordon that he’d gone missing. We went to the school to see if we could find any leads on what happened to him and ended up being ambushed by a group of assassins working for something called the Court of Owls.”

He pointed up at the corner of the screen, where the image of a man with inverted eyes was displayed. “He was their leader. Called himself Shrike.”

Artemis frowned as she looked at the picture. “What’s the Court of Owls?”

“We have no clue.” Dick sighed in frustration. “The assassins blew themselves up when they realized that they were going to lose. We’ve been looking since the attack and haven’t found anything. Batman’s never heard of it, and I can’t find any references to it in anywhere.”

Artemis’ frown deepened. It was rare for Batman to have never heard of something. “Do you have any leads?”

“Not many.” Dick admitted. He gestured over to the side, where several items sat arranged on top of a high-tech scanning bed. The mask that Robin had removed from Shrike. The swords and throwing knives the assassins had dropped in their fight. Charred pieces of limbs and barely identifiable chunks of tissue.

“Most of the physical evidence was obliterated in the explosions. We’ve run their DNA through all the databases we could and come up with nothing. Their gear is also untraceable. We’re analyzing what’s left, but nothing yet. Batman’s back at the school, looking for anything we missed.” Dick sighed. “All we really know for certain is that the Court of Owls is good.”

He tapped at the keyboard again, bringing up a series of case files bearing the GCPD’s logo. “Look at this.”

Artemis moved so that she was standing next to Dick’s chair and peered at the display. Dozens of names and faces populated the screen, each identifying a child between the ages of 10 to 13. “What am I looking at?”

“GCPD missing persons reports. Specifically, children listed as missing from the Catherine Hershey School. Notice anything?”

Artemis frowned. Some of the kidnappings stretched back decades, with some going all the way back to the 70s, when the GCPD had started keeping track of missing kids. She realized what she was supposed to be looking for as she read the dates listed on the files.

“Like clockwork… One kid disappears every four years. Jason was just the latest.”

“Right.” Dick confirmed. “And those are just the disappearances that we have official records for. Unofficially, I managed to dig up reports of similar disappearances stretching all the way back to the school’s founding.”

“Why?” Artemis asked, incredulous. For a school to have this many missing kids… Granted, this was Gotham City, but still, even accounting for the fact that a boarding school oriented towards strays and orphans would probably have more runaways and disappearances, how had someone not noticed?

“I don’t know.” Dick said. He was clearly frustrated, which was understandable. He’d been trying to come up with the answer to that question for the last few hours. The problem was, he didn’t know if that was the right question to ask.

At first, both he and Batman had based their theories on the assumption that Jason had been kidnapped because someone was trying to bait them; after all, it was a common enough strategy amongst their regular rogue’s gallery. But now that he’d dug deeper and found the reports of serial disappearances, he was forced to come up with new theories to work around.

It was like trying to put together a puzzle, except he didn’t have all the pieces, he didn’t know which pieces he had were useful, and he had no idea what the final image would look like.

Knowing that a child’s life was likely on the line, his inability to figure the situation out was maddening.

“Any ideas?” Dick asked her. “I could use a fresh pair of eyes on this.”

Artemis hesitated, considering how she could best contribute. It wasn’t that Artemis thought she wasn’t smart enough to help, or that she was intimidated by the fact that her mentor wasn’t a world renowned detective. The simple truth was that most of the things that she could think of right then and there would have already occurred to him. If she wanted to help, she needed to draw on the resources and skills that she had exclusive access to.

“How good were the assassins who attacked you?” She asked.

“Very.”

“League of Shadows good?” She pressed.

“No. Better. Much better.”

Artemis considered that for a moment before pulling out her phone. “I’ll ask my mom if she heard of anyone like them when she was part of the League. They try to keep tabs on anyone that has skills like that.”

“Thanks.”

As Artemis took a few steps away so that she could call her mom without disturbing Dick, an automated notification popped up on the Bat-computer’s screen to tell him that the detailed scan he’d been running on the assassin’s bodies was done.

“Whoa…” Dick breathed as he read through the results.

Almost every biological sample that he and Batman managed to collect displayed some evidence of either chemical or genetic manipulation. For example, the assassin’s blood contained cells that looked like normal platelets, but upon closer inspection, appeared to function much more effectively, clotting in a matter of seconds rather than minutes. Fragments of bone revealed that their skeletons had been coated in a porous material that allowed biological materials to pass through, but was as strong and as light as titanium. There were even remnants of organs that the bat-computer didn’t recognize as human.

No wonder he hadn’t been able to find a match in any of the databases he’d looked at. Even something as fundamental as their DNA had been re-written to include what looked like distinct strands of animal genes. This was almost Cadmus level gene-manipulation; there were parts that barely looked human anymore.

It wasn’t just the sheer scale of the enhancements that Dick found overwhelming, but also the amount of time it must have taken to implement them. He’d seen full body augmentation and reconstruction before, of course, but it wasn’t something you could do all at once. Even with advanced tech from STAR Labs, someone undergoing this much surgery and gene therapy would need, at best, several years to adjust to all the changes being wrought on his or her body.

Years… Dick realized with a start, as a disturbing thought crossed his mind.

Working quickly, he minimized everything on the computer screen except for the picture of Shrike’s face that the cameras built into his mask had captured, then opened up a program that had been designed for forensic investigators so that they could “age” pictures of young children to find out what they might look like several years after their respective disappearances.

Dick ran the process in reverse, taking a scan of Shrike’s face and reversing the aging process so that it displayed an approximation of what Shrike might have looked like at the age of 12. Granted, the image was very, very, very rough, but at least it gave him something to work with. He ran the image through every database concerning missing children that he had access to, both within the US and internationally.

Even with a super computer as powerful as the one that was built into the Batcave, the search still took a few minutes.

That gave Dick a moment to ponder. And to hope he was wrong. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Artemis was done with her phone call until she was standing next to him.

“Nothing.” She told him, tucking her phone away. “My mom says she’ll ask around though.”

He looked over at her. “Are you sure? I don’t want her to get into any trouble.”

Artemis waved his concerns away. “It’s fine. She knows how to take care of herself. Besides, I think she likes being able to help with hero stuff. It gives her something to do besides sit around the house all day, you know?”

“Mmm.” Dick conceded. He could empathize with that.

He sighed, rubbing his face, giving his eyes a rest. He’d been working non-stop on this since the ambush last night. Just because he was used to long hours of work didn’t mean that it never caught up with him. It was just hard to focus on things that seemed as trivial as food and sleep when someone’s life was on the line.

“Are you alright?” Artemis asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Dick said, pushing himself upright in his chair. “It’s just been a rough day.“

“You should get some rest.” She said. Dick glanced at her. He recognized that tone. Despite phrasing it as a suggestion, Artemis’ voice made clear that she was prepared to frog march him upstairs if she thought it would be necessary.

Oh, to have an big sister like Artemis.

“I’m just gonna finish this search, then I’ll grab a quick nap.” Dick promised.

Artemis crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he’d made a similar promise to her, only for her to return hours later to find him slumped over the keyboard, fast asleep.

“I will.” He insisted when she didn’t budge.

She continued to stare at him for a few moments longer before she uncrossed her arms. Inwardly, Dick breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fine.” Artemis said as she made her way back towards the elevator leading up to the manor. “But if you don’t give Zatanna a call by the time I get back from the Cave, I will beat the crap out of you.”

“Fair enough.” He conceded.

Artemis rolled her eyes, but gave a quick wave goodbye as the elevator doors slid shut.

The computer chimed in with a notification, letting him know that the search was done. Facial recognition had found a relatively close match for a child that had gone missing in Oregon.

“Matthew Board.” Dick said to himself, reading the name at the top of the report. Born to David and Serena Board, September 1975. The youngest of four children. Reported as missing January 16th, 1988. The official notes listed it as likely the child had run away from home.Interestingly, it hadn’t been his parents who had reported Matthew as missing, but a teacher at the school he had gone to. He ran a quick check and found that both the mother and father had criminal records, mostly for drug related offenses, though there were more than a few citations from Child Protection Services as well.

Dick’s discomfort was starting to grow. It felt like the picture on the puzzle was starting to become clearer. Matthew matched Jason’s profile almost exactly. A child from a rough background, around the age of 12, whose disappearance wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

This being the United States, which maintained a national database of missing children, there were DNA records for Matthew on file that Dick could access. He pulled these up and compared them to the samples that he had recovered from Shrike.

After Dick edited the sequences of animal DNA and removed them from the analysis, they were almost a perfect match.

Shrike was, or had been, Matthew Board.

Dick’s blood ran cold at the realization. Whatever the Court of Owls was, it had been kidnapping children in order to turn them into super-powered sociopathic killers. They’d been doing it in Gotham for years, decades even, right under their noses.

And he and Batman had put Jason right in their path.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The Labyrinth

Location Unknown

Time Unknown

Jason knew he was going to die.

That was his only rational thought as he stumbled forward through the dark, displaying none of the learned caution or stealth that he normally would have used. In truth, he was so consumed by the realization of his impending demise that he was scarcely aware of his surroundings, moving forward out of stubbornness rather than any real hope of going anywhere.

He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The way he would die was irrelevant. Cut apart by another booby trap. Bludgeoned to death by the fists of ferals and torn apart to be eaten. Finally succumbing to the gnawing pit of hunger and thirst that was welling up inside of him. It would all mean the same thing in the end: dying, alone, down in the dark.

Strange, to think of his death in such dispassionate terms. In a way, the only thing that surprised him was the fact that he was still alive.

He hadn’t seen any signs of life for…

He didn’t know.

He didn’t remember.

He didn’t care.

Lorena. Joseph. Chris. Sean. They all probably thought he was dead.

Maybe they were right. It certainly felt like he was in hell right now.

For all he knew, they were the ones who were dead. The tunnels reeked of so much decay and abandonment that he couldn’t really believe that there was anyone friendly left in the world. Moving through the darkness, still covered with clotting blood and other visceral filth, he felt so cut off and isolated from everything that nothing felt real.

One of the few reassuring things he still felt was the weight of the knife in his hand. He vaguely recalled prying it, his own hands still sticky with blood, from the grasp of a fragmented skeleton that he’d tripped over as he’d stumbled through the dark. Judging from the size of the remains, it had probably belonged to a past aspirant. One who had fallen into the blood pool, just as he had, and somehow died, just as he would.

The knowledge had scared him at first. He had stared at the knife for a long time, knowing that he could have turned the weapon on himself, ended all of the pain that he had endured and the pain sure to come by slitting his own throat.

The prospect had, admittedly, been tempting.

But Jason hadn’t done it. Instead, he thought back to when he’d found James’ body.

His friend had known he was going to die the moment he realized he’d been caught in the floor trap that had dumped both of them down here. Even with everything that had happened to him, he’d gone down fighting, quite literally tearing the guts out of his feral killer.

Even in death, James would have avenged himself had Jason not intervened.

That seemed like a good example to follow.

If Jason was going to die no matter what he did, he wanted to die doing something, die fighting his fate. As much as he wanted the suffering to end, he wouldn’t take the easy way out. As much pain as it would bring, he would keep moving, resist, even if brought him to the bitterest of ends.

Jason clutched his looted knife tighter and kept moving forwards.

It was as good a direction as any other.

[anjulipatil-blog1]

Great Overview On Ways to Make The Most From Your madden mobile hack

Having an madden mobile cheats can be a wonderful means to allow your imaginative side out. They are very straightforward, but a new customer could still have some questions. Also those who have actually been using the madden mobile coin hack for a while can take advantage of the latest methods and also suggestions. The adhering to article uses several ideas to assist you get the most from the how to hack madden mobile experience.

Getting shed is a thing of the past if you have an madden mobile glitch with you. The maps application lets you see your place any time your solution is active. This app is additionally excellent for allowing you just discover your method to your residence, or to someplace that you are taking a trip to.

Ensure you upgrade your phone when ever updates appear. Keeping your phone upgraded will make certain that it is loaded with the current alternatives and also software program spots. Regular updating forces data storage space and back-up so you do not lose every little thing you find essential.

If you're having problem seeing the characters on your keyboard, you can have a bigger one. There is no have to purchase a bigger keyboard. From the Safari web browser, rotate your phone laterally and touch on the address bar. Your inputting will be a great deal faster and more accurate with the bigger landscape-orientation keyboard.

If you are utilizing your madden mobile coin glitch to look the web, you do not have to enter the.com of the internet address you wish to most likely to. You just have to utilize the primary address and also your browser will pull up the appropriate site. Although this seems little, this could save you a wonderful amount of time over your free madden mobile coins's life.

If you have an cheats for madden mobile, it is essential that it has a protective screen. Without a protector, there will be scrapes as well as nicks. Just having a tiny bit of dust on a finger could develop a scrape. A display guard is inexpensive as well as a worthwhile investment.

On Safari, you can save pictures from Safari or Mail really quickly if you know ways to do it. Simply touch as well as hang on a photo that you want to conserve. Then you'll obtain a popup with a list of choices. Certainly, now it's equally as easy as choosing "Save.".

When visiting a web page, you should try scrolling with one finger and also with 2 fingers. If the web page is separated into boxes, when utilizing one finger it allows your go through each box on at once. Scrolling with two fingers will certainly assist you scroll through the entire page.

If you are writing anything on the madden mobile 17 hack and also do not wish to use the anticipating text attribute, the recommendation box can be rejected without touching the "X." You can eliminate the box by just tapping at any spot on the screen.

As a default setting, incoming messages are previewed on your madden mobile hack apk's lock screen. Depending upon your personal preference you may locate that this feature is helpful or you might neglect it in all. If you like not to utilize this attribute, you can disable it quickly. Choose the Settings food selection, go to notifications and afterwards touch messages. Touch the Show Sneak peek option as well as turn it to the off setup.

There are times when you are busy as well as don't wish to be disturbed by notifications on your hack madden mobile. You can complete working on your present screen before reacting to the notifications. Notifications can be handled swiftly. To eliminate, simply swipe the pop-up when it shows up.

Don't flip out if your madden mobile free coins freezes. Your first step must be to push as well as hold the Residence switch or the Sleep switch. If that stops working attempt pressing the house switch on your hacks for madden mobile in addition to the sleep/wake button. Your phone will certainly obtain a tough reset and also, be functioning once more in a snap.

The "unread" email command isn't in plain sight, so you will certainly need to find it. You should reach Information as well as push the unread button; when you go to email, it will appear as a message that is unread.

To earn the most of your madden nfl mobile cheats, attempt using it to stay attached on Facebook. This is a very useful means to access to Facebook on your madden nfl mobile hack.

Connect with your friends using mobile social networks. Stay on top of your buddies as you live your life via sites like Twitter or Facebook. These apps make it simple to stay up to date with just what is going on in all of your circles.

Face Time is an excellent application for video interaction with your madden mobile coins free. This application lets individuals actually see their discussion companion. When you are in contacts, you could discover this function after you click the get in touch with's name. Press down on it and also you could both hear and also see the person.

For frozen free madden mobile cash displays, maintain the house button pressed for 5 seconds. This will inform the phone to reboot itself. If that is ineffective, hold the Power as well as Residence switches concurrently for around 12 seconds. This acts as an option to the first approach of rebooting.

There is a reason that the how to get coins in madden mobile is so prominent. They are very functional and enable you opportunities in the business and social elements of your life. The details that was simply offered to you supplied some beneficial suggestions that makes the

[mauricethemaddenmobilefan-blog]

New Madden Mobile 17 Promo Season Stars: What Do We Know About The Promo?

Madden Mobile fans! Here is the good news. I'm going to be talking to you guys about some very important information regarding a new leaked promo. If we could pull some ultimate legends or any of these new players that be a messed-up and released a day early. By the way, you can find some info on the Madden Mobile forum of muthead.com.

What is Madden Mobile Season Stars Promo?

If you go to your auction block right now under the program filter, you can see they've updated it now you can scroll down because there were too many promos for just the one page. There's two new program filters Ultimate Legends and Season Starts today. This has been confusing a bunch of people I've seen online and in my league. It's also a great chance to make a profit with Madden Mobile coins. Take a look there's a bunch of gold and elite players that have suddenly popped onto the auction block. Nobody knows where they came from or what they're used for as you can see there's a series 1, series 2 and series 3 a bunch of different series of these players now the series nobody really knows what this is about as you guys can see these cards are selling for absurd prices so if you guys pull any of these right now. It is an amazing time to be pulling packs for both the most ultimate legends and the season starts which go for an absurd amount of Madden coins because nobody knows what they are so more or less.

How do gamers make the most of the promo?

There's a bunch of different overalls but they have no boost in my opinion this is going to be a very similar promo to final edition if you guys know what that was last year more or less it's a promo where they give a bunch of mediocre players who had decent seasons some pretty solid cards. They were lacking cards through the entire year some of these people I've never even heard of but hey they decided to give them an upgrade.

You will not see anything for the season stars promo and people are wondering did they release these two early. There is a complete list of Season Stars list on maddencoinsbuy.com, which hopefully will help you. These NFL playoff sets are expiring in just a few hours. It will most likely be replaced by a season stars tab now. There should be a picture on the screen coming up right about now and this will show you people all the players that will be in the master sets for the season stars. I'm going to go over each one of these stats because obviously can't see the stats so first of all we have a Davante Adams to complete this set.

These gold season server banner collectible six of them so in total there's 10 items for every single one of these sets Davante Adams has 93 speed 97 acceleration 94 jumping 95 agility 91 catching a pretty solid card. However, I don't know I really need a new player.

Alexander is a very nice-looking card with 90 speed 91 acceleration 91 witness mediate agility 94 tackles and 95 pursuit I've loved Kwon Alexander ever since he got this one card early on in the season it was a really good budget beast believe it was around an 84 overall if I'm not mistaken. It was an 82 overall pretty sure it wasn't 82 overall from early on in the season.

Some of these cards drop for very cheap amounts like that Marcus Cooper and Isaiah Crowell. Let's go take a look see what the next cheapest Isaiah Crowell. It is because people have been getting just absolutely flooded right now with the season stars. A lot of people don't know whether to buy them or not and they're buying them for insane prices you can really take advantage of that and make millions of Madden Mobile coins for iOS and Android. At the end of the day, they should be some pretty solid cards. Hopefully you can pull some of these seas season stars for yourselves. Just go out there and get some good pack.