#so let me enjoy and relish this fleeting moment of happiness and joy

[vibingandsimping]

What kinks do you think Dammon would have?

I received this ask JUST after reading a Dammon fic. Get out of my head, Jesus christ.

I adore Dammon, truly. Sadly, he doesn’t strike me as a hardcore guy. He definitely has a fair share of kinks, though.

Worship

He adores your body. Honestly, anything about you. He whispers it to you as he trails his lips down your chest. Along your sternum as you begin to writhe. Each kiss is followed by some sort of compliment. “Your skin is so lush.”, “I love to hear you.”, “I would do this all day, god.” Really anything to get you off. His hands will work your flesh until you begin to whimper. Dammon works with enthusiasm til you’re practically begging. No need, though. Once you’re ready he’ll happy turn to one of his other kinks. On the other hand… He flusters so much if you do it in return. His brain shuts off but the raging tent in his trousers is proof enough. His skin a deep bronze as he draws ragged breaths. He enjoys it both ways. He could never ask for it, though. It’d have to be something you initiate.

Oral Fixation

Between your thighs is his heaven. He’ll spend all of eternity worshipping your sensitive flesh, if you’d permit. God, if you gave him permission to do it whenever he pleased? Practically every morning and night you’d go to sleep and wake to him. Tongue working like a feral animal as he uses skilled technique. Hands flying to his hair as it drapes over his shoulders. He forgone his hair-clip in his laze. Truthfully, all he thought and sought was the wondrous cries and ambrosia that you leaked. If he could write a song or poem- he would. You grow used to climaxing by his tongue alone at least once every time you visit. God forbid you two live together.

Mating Press

Not sure if this is a kink but… it’s the way he can reach so deeply within you. He tells you he doesn’t particularly have a breeding kink (he’s a liar). No, he just settled down in his life and can’t spare the thought of raising a child. He’d love to grow a family when his blacksmithing is solid and there’s no threat of danger. Despite that, he does welcome a little thrill. Your legs thrown over his shoulders as he drills into you. Even if you can’t biologically have kids- he’ll relish in the position. Yes, when you two are ready… he’s going to put you in this every time. Until you two have the kid you wish. Til there’s a bundle of joy to take care of and run around the house. Better get used to the burn in your thighs, baby. It’s going to be so hard to say no when he gives you those puppy-eyes of his.

Prolonged Foreplay

He is torturous. Dammon will sit and whisper his wants into your ear for days. Fleeting moments of you visiting his smithery for new tools and armor. Grabbing your arm as your companions depart to tell you his depraved thoughts. How he misses you so dearly. When you two finally grab a drink at a tavern as everyone chats. His eyes take you in hungrily and he plays so innocently when you pointedly stare at him. Finally alone, his nails tickle your skin as does his lips. Locked in the passion of your make-out and groping. Groaning into your skin as you touch a particularly sensual spot on his body. You can feel him pressing into the inside of your knee. When you suggest taking things further he simply shakes his head. He’s adamant on making sure you’re ready. Even if you whine and say you are. He gets off on the desperation between you two.

Tail Restraint

This goes both ways. If you have a tail of any sort he’ll gladly let you use it on him. Takes a little reassurance but he trusts you so much. How could you ever hurt him? You wrap your tail around his ankles or wrists as your hand wraps around his cock. His jaw lowers in a choked moan as you begin to slowly guide your hand. His erection, leaking and aching, being slowly jerked off as his body twists in your hold. It’s a delicious sight. If you want him to use his tail on you… again he’s very willing with some reassurance. (Also with the solid establishment of a safe-word. He’s so paranoid he’ll push your boundaries.) The leathery texture of the skin coils around your wrists. Laying on your arms as he pins and restrains them underneath your back. He slips to his knees and begins to work his hands on your sex. He’s slow, painfully so, in working the seed of desire in you. Finally, when your sex begins to weep for him does he use his tongue. The feeling is gratifying and leaves you nearly forgetting the lack of movement in your arms and hands.

[books-are-my-life-stuff]

Let me enjoy this fleeting moment to be happy over the Champion Stadium that I’ve always been waiting for, and jamming over the extremely sick music, before I cry and weep over the Master Mode next week.

In this post I took notes of things that I noticed through the fight. I used this warm-up session of Hoenn CS to understand the mechanics and gimmicks of each stages. Which is why I stalled some of the fights to post sync, and by some I meant Sidney and Glacia’s stages...the rest of the fight were over too quickly I regretted it.

Sidney set up Go Viral 9 Thunder Wave before he sync, and he had Furious Brain. Similar to Grimsley’s stage...I think Bug-weak Grimsley also had paralysis too. Taking him down before he did that is required unless I have something to counter his Paralysis, like dodging it with Fly, or Status Immunity passives. Which makes the already tight time to finish the fight even tighter. Also maybe my Diantha is not a great choice here. All that said, I LOVE SIDNEY SOOO MUCH!! Not only he hard-carried my team through Dark-weak stages, his Japanese and English VA are amazing (bravo ProZD), he went to 5/5 way before I even got a second copy of Masked Royal, his nuke is very easy to set up and very strong, and his theme is so damn cool, my favorite among the four! Sidney certainly stood out to me more after Pokemas, knowing that he’s actually a very chill guy despite his appearance made you think otherwise...is amazing. Love this dude. And even though he probably won’t get a chance to shine (because Dark-weak Phoebe has Sentry Entry x2), I still have the utmost pleasure in battling him...so far, anyway.

Glacia set up Hail before she sync, and Hail activates a myriad of defensive, healing, and possibly offensive (?) passives. Getting rid of her hail as soon as possible is mandatory to end the match quickly. I also noted through Absol’s notes that she had Master Healer 2 for her Draining Kiss, but she hadn’t used that through the match...probably post-sync after she used her Trainer Move? Either way, she needed to be taken down fast before she recovers too much HP for the team to catch up. I think the usual SS Morty/Anni N/SS Red might work here, because the team has so much offensive pressure. Well, let’s see how the real fight goes when that time comes...

Drake set Rain upon entry, activating a whole host of offensive passives related to Rain, including Raging Rain 5. Also he has Acute Senses 4, status change is mandatory to get through the fight.. So, I think this stage is made with SS Ethan in mind, or SS Serena. Which are Master Fairs. God damn it. That said, Zinnia and Rayquaza might also be able to defeat him since she took advantage of any weather condition, but she needs someone to apply status changes--preferably trap, according to the tips. I used BP Zinnia here because she is miles easier to use, but I think Zinnia and Rayquaza is much better because I have SC Lillie to take hits. I don’t think Hilbert can take much offensive pressure boosted with rain passives. Seems like Drake and his companions also prefer using special moves? Hard to say, he was spamming special moves but I took him down two turns before he sync...I regretted it, really.

Phoebe buffs both defenses upon entry, and she also will buff her Attack before sync with her Trainer Move. Because of the parameter I’ve chosen, Phoebe was spamming special moves, though she also did physical occasionally. Because I have Halloween Caitlin with Adrenaline 1, the fight is guaranteed to end pre-sync, especially with Masked Royal’s help to constantly debuff attack and defenses, for Halloween Morty’s nuke. I think Halloween Morty is still the right choice for this stage. Which is great, Phoebe and Morty are fellow ghost type specialists who have abilities to see things that normal people can’t see, and Morty has something to say to Phoebe if you team him up with her, so they’re friends alongside Allister! I’m sure Morty is happy to have a match against or alongside Phoebe. Also, I think I can forego Ghost Zone for Masked Royal’s help to set up Morty’s nuke, though it depends on how consistent the debuffs are, and how Master Mode fight goes. When push comes to shove, I can always change his build to Burn-only nuke (which is more defensive because he has Sync Regen in this build) and use SSR Cynthia to help out with Ghost Zone and powerful Shadow Force.

Steven’s stage...uh, I honestly don’t know. I haven’t seen anything special from him other than spamming strong moves and buffs Accuracy by +2 upon entry, but maybe that’s because SS Serena quickly defeated him before he did anything crazy. However, according to Absol’s notes, Steven has Toughen Up 9 and Tighten Up 9, and he has Endure, possibly from his trainer move just like the real OG Steven. So from this information, he has a chance to likely stall out the match for far too long because he constantly buffs himself, and he has Endure to boot, which is kinda bad except for those lucky souls who have SS Giovanni and Maxie. If the combined offensive pressure isn’t enough, Steven might be able to last long enough to apply Endure and sync, which makes the fight harder, and he also spam strong moves like Iron Head and Hammer Arm, which is especially bad if the fight goes longer. And Ground is pretty scarce as a type too, so...needless to say, I’m not looking forward to face Steven in Master Mode.

[janumun]

Engraved Within Memory (MLQC Lucien - NSFW Headcanons)

Game: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice Pairing: Lucien/Female Reader Rated: NSFW/18+ 

Warning Tags: vaginal fingering and sex, abandonment play, orgasm denial, mild bondage, situation manipulation, passing mentions of main story chapter 9

Summary: Delve into and discover some of the Professor’s not-so secret kinks.

Author’s Notes: Oooh okay! We're doing kink exercises for our favorite, hot Professor. Thank you for asking for this! He makes me fan my face every second he makes me sit through that incinerating, BDE presence on screen. 🥴 I don’t think there’s much out there that fazes this man and even less he might dislike, if at all. He’d be willing and very much up (BLESS HIM) for all manners of (depraved) play, were you to consent. Lucien’s pleasure greatly pivots on witnessing his partner’s reactions to what he does to them within the bedroom/otherwise; these head-canons tackle that visual-centric angle to his arousal, which I hope you’ll enjoy reading! 😉✨

(You will never know how) Lucien takes a certain degree of delight in being able to witness you caught unawares. He's often a step several ahead of you.

You might inform him you'd be swinging by his office and when you do, stood in front of his door. Hand poised to knock upon polished wood before you feel his presence close behind and then that gentle, low baritone as it warms his welcome of you. A genuine smile and two cups of coffee - still steaming, in their holders - ready for you.

That first look of startled surprise and a mouth mimicking that expression; shaped into a silly O. Before it rapidly relaxes into joy and a smile so wide, it jostles him a little, how you manage to express such ready happiness, every single time without fail.

Truly, he never tires of it, the myriad of your reactions. Some of the best ones always earned in that swift moment in between oblivion and realization.

That space in between fleeting uncertainty and then familiarity, to know who exactly is approaching her. Lucien does derive satisfaction from that feeling of watching your mild disconcertion surface, then scatter at his often calculated probing. A sign of your trust.

He isn't unpleasant about it nor is it his intent to frighten you. The man wouldn't take any pleasure in truly distressing you - it is not your discomfort he seeks after all, rather your adoration he finds comfort in.

And if you agree to let him, he is willing to show you how very rewarding your act of trust can be.

One who's never sparing with his encouragement and guidance, the Professor's asking you if you're feeling alright, if everything's good for you. Even as long fingers slip to tie your hands with soft silks, your eyes covered with cloth, just as exquisite.

Working you into a position of kneeling, center and upright, upon the bed.

"You're doing so well, agápi̱ mou." He makes sure to praise. Makes sure you hear him, mouth moving right against your earlobe. Lips parting to worry the flesh in soft strokes before he withdraws.

His eyes are on you, breathing in and observing all. Just as they often are, when he takes the time to relish the sight of you waiting for him, restless fingers moving to tuck stray locks of hair behind your ear or smoothing your outfit for your date. Right before he moves to join you.

He lets himself join you now, tapered digits working themselves into the gap in between folded thighs to trace a vertical pattern across your already damp panties and you inhale in a startled gasp; sharp and beautiful. Better than when you are actually able to watch him and confirm his presence immediately.

He observes the tensing of muscles, the fine tremble of flesh; to be unaware of how he might touch you next. Awaiting, bated breaths.

He can feel that pleased smile, not as gentle - hardly gentle - as you see it often, against lips he presses into your cheek.

Taking a few moments to confirm your comfort and consent still. Pulling that cheek into a nibbling bite in praise when you nod your head, breathless with your foreign experience.

Fingers just as careful, curling into the space of your legs, but this time, he lets them slip right underneath your soaked underwear to touch, direct and warm.

Watching you break into a stilted shiver, as if you weren't quite prepared for the way those long digits gather speed, pulsing into your drenched pussy - in and out - hurtling you closer to an orgasm… before he stops. And withdraws.

Watches you struggle to complain against the cruelty of it all, teeth sinking bitter into lower lip. Voice trembling on the single sound of his name.

He instructs you to stay still for him, that it's alright and to not worry about the copious fluid that drenches your thighs to drip in between them and on to the sheets.

He'll touch you once more, if he so pleases. And if you're good.

He might continue in that manner, torturous. Pleasurable when he decides you've been waiting long enough. Unhurried mouth and tongue moving across each inch of exposed flesh as if he'd never left, fingers back to sliding within your pussy.

Before withdrawing.

Lucien might decide to tug at that leash just that little bit, might make you believe he leaves the room and you, for extended periods of time - he never does, he stays right by you - just to see that anxiety heighten and flourish. Seeking him. Thighs rubbing in rising need of friction.

Unabated joy leaving on moans and gasps of his name when he rewards you, your pleas of him to not leave and continue this time.  All the way through.

He could drag his little pleasure charade for hours on end, letting his own arousal go untouched; the tight fit of his trousers turning unbearable, just to feast on that sight of you, so in need of him. Or if you ask him to release you, using the protective net of your set and agreed boundaries, your safety word.

It isn't something he might ask you to indulge in on the regular - after all, he does take great pleasure in witnessing your enjoyment as well, when you're both unbound and touching each other.

… Unless you ask him to.

Help him preserve that color of yours, help him stain you onto an eternity within his mind and upon the glossed surface of photographs.

The man needs to have your memories together, as tokens and souvenirs, to look back on to. Very fond of capturing you within the lens of his camera, as observed in multiple karmas of his.

Tying in to that need to watch and carefully tuck in each precious expression on his butterfly; whether it be her joy or irritation, tears or her satisfaction, Lucien lives for each and every single facet of your color spilling into his life.

His life's monotone; continuous throughout his years whether it be in forgettable encounters, or the wash of monochrome across his world since receiving his Evol.

The tragedies of times past, of nights stained with biting rain and reeking of blood and loss, seem distant now, a flitting ghost of pain. Nothing had truly captured his thoughts before you.

And after you—

He wishes to not miss a single moment, every single memory he'd like to imprint within for all the times he cannot.

Traces of you he keeps tucked; within his wallet. A small photograph secreted into the inner pocket of his lab coat. Pictures adorned within frames, on your suggestion - his shelves seem much more bright now.

More private, treasured images he keeps developed and safe-guarded.

Appreciating every bit of help you can provide in increasing his collection of shots.

Spread upon their bed, just as the scatter of her hair across the covers. Leg thrown wide and open to let him witness glistening folds in between as she works her delicate fingers in circular motions.

The dark perk of pebbled nipples, ripe. Tears staining flushed cheeks in her overwhelming arousal when he’s inside her, fingers of a hand splaying across her lower abdomen as if those seeking digits could feel for him settled deep in between her legs. 

Lucien's arousal strains to life once more at the thought of her slick, along the length of him, her taste on an insatiable tongue. The rise of her hips, the back of her ass, visible through the lens of the camera as it clicks shut.

And when she requests to model; eyes wide, just as those plump, slick lips around the girth of his cock. Angling that coy look his way as she lets him go with a tiny pop of a sound, laying a kiss upon the tip of him, to the click of a shutter hiding a satisfied smile.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

[sailtoafarawayland]

Hope and Surprises

A Captain Swan Family Ficlet...

I’m brushing off a very old collection for this little tale, but it seems like the appropriate home. The first two chapters were written five years ago, but I hope you enjoy them all the same, if you haven’t already. Onto the new addition...

Rating: G

Setting: Enchanted Forest AU

AO3 - FF

Hope and Surprises

Killian felt something tugging him from the warm fog of sleep, whatever dream that had been beneath his eyes slipping from him fully as a soft hand pressed against his cheek, the familiar touch accompanied by a sound that would never fail to make his heart swell with joy.

“Papa,” came the urgent whisper, his daughter's palm tapping insistently against him as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, surprised to see that the cottage was dark, sunrise still many hours away.

He smiled at the sight of her face hovering close to his, her brow furrowed over blue eyes that mirrored his own, the soft dusting of freckles across her cheeks a map of his favorite constellations.

“Wake up, Papa,” she insisted, her teeth chewing at her lower lip with worry as she glanced over his shoulder toward the pile of blankets behind him.

“Why are you up so early, love?” he whispered in return, stroking her soft blonde curls, tangled and wild just as her mother's were in the morning.

She fixed him with a look of great impatience, something else she'd inherited from her fiery mum who was still sleeping soundly on the other side of him.

“You have to get up, Papa – right away.”

She stepped away from the bed, little arms crossing stubbornly in front of her chest, her nightshift bunched and sticking out from beneath the dress she'd tugged haphazardly over her sleep-tousled curls.  

“Very well,” he murmured, carefully extricating himself from the blankets, the cold touch of the wood planks a fleeting discomfort at the sight of his daughter's wide smile. “Tell me then, what mischief have you managed so early this morning, my little cygnet?”  

“Papa, be quiet,” she whined, a stocking foot stamping on the floor as she took his fingers and dragged him toward the far side of the cottage, parting the heavy tapestry that separated he and Emma's sleeping area from the rest of their home. “I tried to do it all on my own, but it was too much to carry.”

Killian shivered in the morning chill, glancing longingly back toward the trunk where his clothing was neatly folded, but the tapestry was already falling back into place behind them, and his headstrong lass wasn't about to give him a moment to gather even a shirt.

His night breeches would have to do.

She pulled him past the table and over to the hearth, gesturing toward an array of destruction and mess he would have needed to have been blind to miss.

“Oh, darling,” he crooned, kneeling and taking in the spread she'd created by the small light of her lantern – the jam smeared and dripping over the edges of a thick slab of bread, the wooden bowl cradling berries drizzled with a golden sheen of honey, the rough mug filled to the brim with what smelled like Emma's morning tea, and all of it set out in a neat line on one of the large wooden trenchers. “Mama will love it. You've done well, my wee lass.”

Hope beamed, glancing eagerly toward the other side of the still dark cottage, her fingers tugging at the back of  her dress that just so happened to be facing the front, laces hanging down to her knees.

“Do you see? I even made Mama's tea, for her belly. Can we bring it in now, Papa? I want it to be a surprise.”

Killian bit back a sigh, instead smiling hopelessly at their daughter. He knew it was far to early to go about waking his wife, but Hope had put such work into her surprise that he couldn't bear to put her off a moment longer.

“Aye, of course we can, love – shall I do the carrying and let you do the waking?”

“Yes, you carry it, Papa. It's quite heavy, and I'll give Mama kisses to wake her.”

Killian carefully angled the wooden platter over the edge of the stone hearth, just enough that he could balance it on his wrist before gripping the other side tightly and rising to his feet. He bit back a grimace as the tea spilled over the edge of the mud, running coldly along his arm and pooling at the base of the bread.

Hope galloped across the dimly lit floor and tossed the tapestry aside, any concern over secrecy long forgotten and replaced by the excitement of sharing her surprise with her mother.

Catching the heavy tapestry with his shoulder before it could swing entirely closed, Killian eased into the small space he and Emma shared as their own, Hope already bouncing against the frame of the bed, her fingers curled into the feather mattress while her legs did a jig beneath the folds of her dress.

“Mama,” she whispered, bumping her pink tipped nose against Emma's, her tiny fingers rising to push back the curls from her mother's face as she tried again, this time more loudly and closer to her ear. “Mama, wake up!”

“Hope,” Emma mumbled, eyes blinking heavily as she drew back and stretched beneath the blankets, rolling her face deeper into the downy pillow. “Hope? What is it, sweetie? Is everything alright?”

“Happy Name-day!” Hope sang, unable to keep still any longer and launching herself onto the bed, nuzzling herself into her mother's chest as Emma shrieked and laughed, pulling her close. “Papa and I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, you do? Aren't I the luckiest mama in the world.”

“I'll not take credit for this one, love. This surprise is courtesy of our little cygnet,” Killian chuckled, carefully moving the serving trencher toward the bed and resting it across his wife's lap as she wrangled Hope onto the other side of the bed, stilling her bouncing legs with a hand, “but she's done a lovely job of it. Happy Naming Day, my love.”

“Thank you,” Emma sighed, pulling their daughter's head against her shoulder and kissing the top of it soundly. “This looks delicious, and I was so hungry that I was certain I couldn't sleep a minute longer.”

“Were you really?” Hope asked, dipping her finger into a run of honey that had made its way free of the berry bowl. “It's because you're eating more now, I think.”

Killian choked down a laugh as Emma glared playfully at him from the bed before returning her attention to their daughter's gift.

“Are these fresh berries with honey?”

“They are,” Hope nodded, “and I really didn't eat any of them – because today is your special day, Mama.”

“You know what would make this day even more special?” Emma whispered, picking up a bruised raspberry from the top of the pile and holding it aloft. “Sharing this delicious breakfast with my sweet girl.”

“Well, it was a lot of work making all of this,” Hope reasoned, eyeing the berry, “and I think I'm awfully hungry now.”

She plucked the berry from Emma's fingers and popped it into her mouth, chewing happily before snuggling into her mother's side and reaching for a few more. A large yawn followed a string of black berries, and before long Hope's sticky fingers had fallen quietly to her side, eyes flickering closed.  

Killian watched as Emma lifted the cup of tea and took a careful sip, grimacing at either the temperature or the taste before setting it carefully on the small table beside the bed. Hope was beginning to drift back to sleep at her mother's side, and Emma was picking lazily at the berries while she cuddled their daughter. He stepped carefully back through the tapestry, turning to survey the damage that had been inflicted upon the hearth once more.

By the time he'd finished scouring honey from the stone and sweeping crumbs and crushed berries from the floor, he was more than ready for his own cup of tea, but a quick sip of the concoction their daughter had left in the kettle told him that he'd be searching for fresh mint to replenish Emma's supply – surely Hope had used half the jar for one pot. The cold and early morning catching up to him, he made sure the rest of the cottage was as it should be before turning back toward the bed, brushing the tapestry aside.

He pressed the image that greeted him into his heart – Emma curled protectively around Hope as they both slept against the pillows – the trencher of breakfast nibbled on and sat aside. Emma's cheek rested against the top of Hope's blonde curls, and their daughter's hand was pressed to the large swell of her mother's stomach where either a little brother or sister was still growing.

It would be another moon still before the new babe entered the world, and another Name-Day to celebrate – but Killian knew that no matter how many early, sticky breakfasts he needed to clean up in the wee hours of the morning, he would happily relish each one for the rest of his life.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop @karlyfr13s @elizabeethan @rkrbirdgirl @batana54

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 2

I hope y’all are ready for the heartache because this chapter absolutely destroyed me. Please read the warnings because this chapter does deal with quite a few heavy issues along with ripping your heart to shreds. Let me know if you’d be interested in another part? Thank you all for the read! Part 1 HERE

Masterlist

Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: 2360

Warnings: heartbreak, break-up, language, mention of self harm, pure unadulterated angst 

******************

Today was a day where she just wanted solace though the impending doom of forethought clouded her every sense. She wanted to blink and will the world around her to magically disappear enjoying her descent into darkness. Y/N sought to feel anything at all but alas she felt wholly empty. It was slowly but surely killing her, picking her apart piece by fucking piece. She hadn’t had the chance to speak with him, hear his once soothing voice on the other end of the phone. Just nonchalant texts messages brimmed with no meaningful purpose. But is that what she wanted the entire time? Possibly so. 

That’s what made her friends poke into her business, snoop until they found an answer worthy of their liking. Y/N knew how to play their games and say whatever it took to make them stop their line of questioning. It was her equivalent of mourning the future she mapped out. Her phone chimed alerting Y/N of its annoying presence. ‘Catching a connecting flight out of LAX to meet with Danny and, finally heading home baby! ETA tomorrow late afternoon.’

Great, there was no stopping his arrival now that he was officially coming home.

She had so many grand plans in her dreams, promises of a life she now questioned if she ever wanted at all. The blade felt cool against her skin, she begged for the sweet release for the air latched in her lungs to be set free, but no such luck today. Old habits die hard. Blood dribbled onto the marble sink as relief flooded her system, endorphins pumping as her vision momentarily darkened. For a second, all was calm and she relished in the fleeting feeling. Y/N finally released the breath scratching at her lungs. She was anxious and just wanted to sleep away the day while morph into her sheets.

Curiously, she didn’t remember when she became exhausted. She didn’t remember when exhausted was no longer exhausted, and it just was. The tiredness seeped in her bones and she accepted this state of being with utter apathy. Y/N frowned down at the piece of jewelry that once sparked joy, reminiscing on the night Henry proposed. Now the ring on her finger was beginning to weigh too much for her to fathom. So, Y/N did what was best and sadly slide the diamond off her ring finger and back into its elegant box.

~The Next Day~

             Y/N paced their chic living room floor awaiting his and Kal’s arrival. Mentally prepping herself over the strong points to hit in their conversation trying to build her courage and morale. This would be easier if I wasn’t in love with him. Just then, she heard the sound of the garage door open and an engine decease. It was now or never. Realistically, Y/N knew she couldn’t keep a straight face for very long but at the same moment so ached for his touch, for his gentle kiss, and for one more unscathed instance. She inhaled deeply and soothed her nerves to the best of her ability. The front door opened, the pitter patter of paws hit the ground first, greeting her with overwhelming enthusiasm. Y/N kneeled to Kal’s level letting the dog lick her cheek powerless to the loyal Akita before her.

“Darling, where you are?” His voice echoed through the foyer in search of Y/N as he found her with Kal. He rushed towards her, wrapping his arms in a warm embrace and brought her close. He buried himself in the column of her neck kissing a trail of the gentle kisses and inhaled. Everything about this woman lit his insides of fire and now she was tangible, a reality he was more than happy to clasp on to. Hands finding his tamed locks, Y/N intertwined her fingers pulling him in leaving no space between their bodies. Stay strong. Stay focused Y/N.

“Is it even possible to miss one’s smell?”

“You’re home.”

Y/N stepped out of his warmth missing the fleeting scowl etched on Henry’s face.

“Can I get you anything to drink; Scotch possibly? I’m dying for a drink.”

Henry couldn’t put his finger on it but something didn’t feel right. As she reached the wet bar, he took in her appearance. She had lost weight; her bones were noticeable now. She turned his direction with glasses in hand. Her cheekbones were too pronounced, she quite frankly looked …fragile?

“Here you go, babe. Welcome home.”

His hand clasped over hers holding her stare before retrieving the glass.

The liquor deliciously burned down her throat. He refused to bite his tongue any longer; “Y/N, is something the matter?”

She ogled the bronzed liquid in her glass before clearing her throat; “Yes.” Henry’s eyebrows raised in concern reaching out to her as Y/N took a step out of reach.

He barely heard her before a whimper left her; “Please don’t touch me, Hen.”

Bewilderment override his body leaving his brain in the dust.

“Love, what’s wro—” Before he could finish, his phone beeped notifying him of an incoming message. He reached in his back pocket wanting to silence the damned thing before reading who it was from.

‘Anya: Make it home safe? I’m lying in bed alone and can’t help but think of your taste. See you soon?’

Y/N watched in disbelief at his attention pulled elsewhere. So much so that she didn’t comprehend the glass shattering onto the tile floor and blood sliding down her wrist. She clenched her fist in blinded anger reminding herself of the pain as the shard dug deeper into her flesh.

“I’m standing right in front of you. I always have and yet you refuse to even acknowledge me. I can’t even maintain your attention god forbid you put your phone down for five minutes. How do you think that feels when the one person you’re in love with can’t even give you the time of day?”

He drank in her disheveled appearance, her blotted checks streaked with tear stains, her messy hair from constantly running her fingers through, and lastly, the hurt that lay just behind her blue irises. He’d never hated himself more than in this moment. Ever so gently he leaned closer into her frame craving her closeness but she remained a step further. She ducked away in disgust swatting his hand from reaching her face. Henry attempted to cover up the shock from overtaking his chiseled features. He’d never seen her so on fire in their entirety as a couple.

“I said don’t fucking touch me. You sicken me. Is that what you wanted to hear, huh? Do you think it’s fun being invisible to the one person I thought had my back?” She refused to hold back her emotions anymore allowing the storm to overflow.

“YN... please let me...”

“What? Let you explain? What possible bullshit are you about to spew in hopes of changing my mind?”

“I love you. Don’t ever underestimate my feelings for you.” 

Sighing, she inhaled a much-needed breath of air before composing herself, at least to the best of her abilities; “Henry. Stop. Please, I’m begging you. My chest feels as if it’s been pried open and my heart ripped from my body. My blood boils through my veins yet is tinged with ice. You’re breaking me into a million little pieces. You must see what you’re doing to me.”

Melancholy dripped from her voice as he silently berated himself, shaking his head in defeat. His eyes glazed over slightly in an attempt to find his own composure, to quill the manic pounding residing in his chest. If he were being honest, it had been quite some time since he last looked at Y/N. Genuinely looked at her. No facetime, no phone calls. And she was right, she was ripping at the seams. How had he not noticed? The chilled atmosphere left the pair suffocating, grasping onto their last truth of reality as quietness laid between them. 

“You pride yourself on your so-called honesty. So, now’s your time! ...are the rumors true?”

Henry’s eyes immediately averted to the cement ground below wishing to buy himself another second of borrowed time. But with no such luck, he let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realize had been lodged in his lungs. 

“Yes. But I didn’t sleep with her.” 

YN bit her lip to keep a wail from slipping out making her insides inflate with sadness. She knew it was all too good to be true. Her stomach churned at the mere mention of her name.

She sniffled trying to look anywhere but at the handsome god displayed in front of her but to no avail met his calm blue eyes awaiting hers. 

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say?” 

Y/N’s fight was fast depleting and she wasn’t sure how long her energy would remain before perching upon empty. If she was being honest, all she wanted to do was bury her head into his warm chest willing his past mistakes away and reuniting them with their life...the life they built together. But that was no longer an option she could look forward to any longer. He made damn sure of that before returning home from filming. And worse, TMZ had the pictures to rub salt in her fresh wounds. 

Her silence was killing him increasing his anxiety foolproof. 

“Please Y/N say something, anything! I deserve your wrath and anger. A shout would be better than nothing.”

But to his surprise, she remained frozen unable to show what was running through her mind. 

“There’s nothing left to say. You made a choice and with that said choice allowed for the entirety of our relationship to simply vanish. I deserve wholesome and unconditional love, not some half-ass attempt. It must’ve been so lonely in Budapest for you that you just had to fuck somebody else. I totally get it.” Her sarcastic tone finally freeing her most inner thoughts.  

“I didn’t have sex with her! Woman, listen to the words I’m saying.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me. Look me in the fucking eyes Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill and tell me what happened.”

“A silly mistake. We had just wrapped and headed out to a local pub down the way. It had this amazing terrace and all I could think is about how much you would’ve enjoyed the view, the architecture of the city. Drinks led to shots and before I knew it, someone pushed me into a bathroom stall. I remember hearing the lock click, Anya tugging at my belt, and not having the restraint to push her away. I closed my eyes and pictured you, I swear it. God woman, I missed you. It wasn’t until I came that I realized it wasn’t you.”

“Did you ever even maybe think about how I get being hundreds of miles away from you? That maybe I was just as lonely. But guess what? I didn’t go to a bar and stick my tongue down anyone’s throat. Jesus, Henry, I’m not even sure I even crossed your mind. Do tell me though; are you apologizing because you got caught or because you feel bad?”

His question left her stunned. This wasn’t how he saw this scenario playing out in his head. Y/N glanced down at the beautiful ring residing on her delicate finger. The one she had forced herself to put on that morning. The diamond ring she once so blindly admired now felt like a ton of bricks forcing her stomach to stir with resentment. 

“Filming was chaotic and I just slipped. A fucking lapse in judgement. I’m an asshole Y/N but you must know how much I regret causing you any amount of pain. 

“Temptation is an impossible beast to tame. But worry no more for you are a free man now.” 

“That isn’t what I want.”

She smirked at him before letting out a loud huff; “Sometimes we don’t always get what we want. In this case, we’re both losers.” 

Henry shook his head in disagreement unable to process her words before she spoke again; “Perhaps, somewhere, someday, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.”

“Don’t say that my love. Please give me another chance. We can work through this; I know deep in my bones there is no one else for me in this life.”

“To what Henry? To make a fool out of me once more? To show the world your power of forgiveness?”

“Be rational Y/N. I asked you to fucking marry me for god’s sake. I want you as my wife, to be by my side!”

Her throat dried at his words of admittance. It was still her dream too. When she closed her eyes YN pictured him in a wonderfully fitted tux waiting for her but now he had trampled her trust.

“I, I want to be the last person who ever kisses you… Please, hear me out. I know that sounds weird, like some sort of death threat.” Henry continued to stumble in attempt to find the words his brain was spewing; “This is it for me, darling.”

His words sunk into her encapsulating her very presence. It was everything and more she had craved to hear. But now his pretty words were tinged with guilt and cheapness leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

“You’re not in love with me, not really, you just love the way I made you feel. And you’ve definitely proved that others can make you feel the same just as easily. Stop playing the victim. You did a shit thing and it kinda makes you a shit person now. The sooner you accept that the easier it will be to comes to terms with your new reality. The one without me in it.”

Before Henry fully processed her words, he suddenly felt an object being placed into his right palm. Her slender fingers atop his before throwing him a pitiful frown. Slowly prying his hand open, the glimmer of the engagement ring laid desolate as blood bombarded his eardrums. After all, how often do we get a second chance?

 -------

Tags: @maggiemoo1892​ @thedeadhearted​ @giveusbackourbucky​ @elinalfrida​ @thereisa8ella​ @henry-cavlll​ @onlyhenrys​ @threeminutesoflife​ @princess-of-riviaa​ @omgkatinka​ @littlefreya​

[blossomoranges]

love’s lost

this fic was commissioned by @pastel-hideout, based on her beautiful and heart-wrenching artwork, using Shingen and her character Damian! 

thank you to @mythiica and @tsundere-mitsuhide for being incredible people and for beta-ing this story.

if you like the story, feel free to take a look at my commission page!

tw: blood and details of respiratory illness

please enjoy!!

Shingen never been so glad to see the end of a war council. There had been a persistent tickle in the back of his throat all morning. Thank goodness Damian wasn’t in attendance - he’d hate to worry his boyfriend with any of this.

Yuki had shot him concerned glances whenever he reached for a cup of tea to soothe the itch or loosened his kimono to cope with his high temperature. He had tried to reassure the young man that there wasn’t anything amiss - Yuki only responded by furrowing his brows with some intensity and issuing a warning against Shingen’s tendency to hide his pain: “There had better not be.”

The Tiger of Kai had spent the entire walk to his quarters ruminating on how much he hated lying to his son. It had been slow-going, but the end was almost in sight. As his lungs began to protest and every exhale turned into a wheeze, Shingen tried his best to quicken his pace. He knew the warning signs for one of his coughing fits and there was no way he could afford to collapse out in the open. The burning sensation within his lungs only worsened with each staggering step, his leaden legs weighing him down until the length of the hallway felt like an odyssey. 

'Almost there’ became a mantra in his head as he struggled to keep himself upright. The wildfire was still clawing its way up to the back of his tongue, turning his desperate breaths into sputtering coughs. He grasped the sliding door to his safe haven with shaking hands, praying that he could make it through the threshold before his lungs decided to revolt in a fashion he couldn't hide.

 The room tilted on its axis just as Shingen shut the door and finally let himself drop to his knees. 

Spirits, he was sick of these coughing fits. They sapped his energy and it took all he had to stay conscious afterwards.

He barely had the strength to keep his eyes open. As he lifted his hand, trying to rub at his weary eyes, his wrist brushed past a growing streak of wetness on his chin. The source soon became apparent - warm blood was dripping in tiny rivulets from his mouth. The blood from war never bothered him, but this? He never realized how much blood one man could cough up.

He doesn't hesitate before wiping it all away with his sleeve.

However, Shingen couldn’t stay kneeling all day. Slowly but surely, he dragged his ailing body onto all fours and crawled along the tatami mats, one arm over the other, until he could lay himself over the surface of his desk. The wood was blessedly cool against his cheek - at least one of his aches was being soothed. 

After a few moments of rest, Shingen tried to press his hand against the desk in the hopes of levering himself upwards. Instead of feeling a wooden surface beneath his palm, his hand brushed against the hardcover of a leather-bound tome.

---

Some weeks ago, when Shingen was still well enough to leave the castle grounds, he and Damian headed out to the market together. His boyfriend had acquired yet another book to add to his growing collection, but instead of squirrelling it away on his bookshelf, he had pressed it into Shingen’s hands as soon as they returned to their quarters.

“What’s this, darling?”

He could have sworn that there was a tinge of pink to Damian’s cheeks, but he couldn’t be sure, as the man had turned to face the screen door beside them. 

“It’s a collection of sonnets. Poetry. I want you to have it.”

“Son-its,” he sounded out. “I’ve never heard of them. What subject matter do they deal with?”

“... Love. The sonnets in this book discuss love.” 

Ah. Now he was sure that his boyfriend was flustered, a beautiful blush blooming across his face.

“This is a wonderful gift. I’ll cherish every word, my angel.” 

Shingen set the book down on his desk with the utmost care, before sweeping Damian into his arms, delighted by the other man’s yelps of surprise. He pressed their foreheads together,  relishing every moment he could bask in his lover’s warmth.

---

The memory of Damian’s gift soothes his soul in a way no medicine could accomplish. This book was a tangible reminder of better days - ones where Shingen had hope that his body could last for a little while longer.

He never thought that he would find true love, the kind that made his heart burst with joy every time Shingen saw his loving smile and turned his thoughts into a jumbled mess whenever Damian drew close.

Despite trials, tribulations, and time itself trying to separate them, they had stayed together. 

It broke Shingen’s heart that it would soon come to a close.

Ever since meeting the man, he had indulged himself in endless daydreams of the life they would share and the home he wanted them to build. He would have crafted a bookcase for Damian’s collection of tomes and scrolls. There would be two finely-carved desks for the endless missives and letters they were both inundated with. Maybe he would have added a crib and some wooden toys if he could ever convince his lover of the many merits of children. He furrowed his brow, halting the thoughts before they became too much to bear - he wouldn’t live long enough to start any of those projects.  

Daydreams with no real substance shouldn’t cause him this much anguish. He should be happy! His homeland was under the Takeda clan’s protection and he had given his people a place to call Kai once more. Though Nobunaga’s head remained firmly attached to his body, his continued existence had enabled Shingen to kickstart a shaky truce between both sides of their endless war. No more blood would be spilt across his lands. A new head of the Takeda clan had been elected, the burden of leadership no longer falling on Shingen’s aching shoulders. That’s all he had ever wanted.

He had done his best to push people away, refusing to saddle others with the grief he knew would inevitably come to pass. His plan was to indulge only in shallow, fleeting relationships; everyone would be better off in the end, he’d reasoned. Unfortunately, the world had always done its best to derail Shingen Takeda’s plans. He had found himself saddled with a strange, patchwork family, nestled inside the imposing walls of Kasugayama. 

Kenshin had been guilt-stricken and wounded inside as long as Shingen had known him. Despite that, he was a brilliant commander and, honestly, a pretty good rival. He had faith that one day, Kenshin would pick up his shattered pieces and lacquer them with gold.

Yoshimoto would always have his head in the clouds, but he’d come into his own as a leader, integrating the remnants of the Imagawa clan into the Takeda. His cousin would survive.

Sasuke, forever staring up at the heavens, like their mysteries would be solved if he just looked long enough. If anyone could figure them out, it was him.

Yuki was his most trusted vassal and the inheritor of his legacy - there was no doubt in Shingen’s mind that he was the man for the job.  His son would carry on, with his head held high, as he always had. 

And of course, his dear Damian. His one true love, his sunshine, his lifeline. Others would have succumbed to despair if they were trapped in this period of ceaseless war, but he had blossomed into a loving partner and one hell of a treasurer.

They would be alright. The continued company of a dying man would only hold them back.

He had kept a smile plastered to his face throughout it all, never letting his mask fall, just to spare everyone from the horrible reality - that death would soon come calling for him. Day by wretched day, his breath grew shorter and his temperature soared, the end creeping closer. He had seen what the truth did to his other loved ones, as they began to grieve for a man who was still with them. 

Seeing Damian’s face fall, when he realized that Shingen was living on borrowed time… it would be the final nail in his coffin. 

But lying to his love like this wasn’t sustainable. His partner was a man who had been through his own hardships. It wasn’t fair to him - he deserved the truth.

He wished he had the strength to find his lover, but the coughing had returned with a vengeance, searing his lungs and robbing him of what little air he had managed to take in. Maybe it was making him dizzy, but Shingen could swear that he could feel the end - it was burning bright behind his eyelids, its very presence demanding he come closer.

All he could do was hope that Damian could forgive him for leaving like this. 

---

Damian had barely seen his boyfriend today. They’d both been so busy that the only time they had spent together lately was just before they collapsed into bed for the night.

Luckily, they were both free for the rest of the afternoon. All he wanted was for them to while away a few hours in each other’s arms, soaking in Shingen’s presence like a flower under a vast sky, talking about everything and nothing at all.

He had expected to see Shingen bent over the desk, working hard to secure his people’s future, or perhaps sitting out on the veranda and basking in the sunlight.

Instead, he is met with the sight of a pale man, drenched in sweat and wheezing with every breath. His horror only intensified as a fresh round of coughs wracked his love’s body. Shingen’s chin was already stained with dried streaks of blood, but fresh droplets spattered into his hand as he tried to stifle his cough.

The only thing Damian can think to do is scream, but the sound won’t leave his throat. It wouldn’t matter if he did. He stumbled in his hurry to get to Shingen, falling to his knees and grasping at the bloodstained fabric of his kimono.

“Why didn’t you say anything?! You selfish bastard, don’t leave me… you promised that you wouldn’t leave me!”

The man’s only response to his tirade was a gentle smile. Shingen inclined his head at some point past him, motioning to something. He whirled around, leaving his blonde locks in disarray as he desperately tried to see what Shingen wanted him to, blind panic drawing mere seconds out into what felt like years.

Finally, his gaze fell on the little book of sonnets displayed on the man’s desk. He’s struck by memories of traipsing through the market hand-in-hand, Shingen gathering him up in his arms and pressing sweet kisses to his lips. 

Damian’s eyes welled up with tears. He couldn’t lose the man he loved, not when they’d barely begun their life together. He is roused from his thoughts by Shingen’s trembling hand pressing against the back of his head, slowly bringing their foreheads together, for what seemed to be the final time.

[staticscreenwriting]

12 Days of Christmas - [Day 8]

A/N: Day number 8 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. Sorry it’s so late and out of order. I’m trying my best. I hope you guys understand. I also hope you enjoy ♥

Prompt: I’m not letting you barricade yourself in your room again for Christmas"

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

The movies lie. That’s a cold hard truth that Billy Hargrove has come to terms with a while ago. It becomes ever so clear to him again, as he watches Max and Susan cuddled up on the couch, watching some cheesy Christmas flick on TV. He hasn’t really been paying attention to the movie but it’s quite obvious it’s one of those generic Christmas films that pretend like snow is the best thing to happen to a person, especially in the month of december. The characters are all smiling and laughing and even if a problem arises, in the end it’s all gonna be alright. Because they have each other and the love they share for one another. Because family is the most important thing in the world and your family is always gonna love you.

And that, Billy knows for certain, is a big bunch of absolute bullshit. The last good Christmas he had was when mom was still living with them. Now it’s just a sad reminder of what his family should be, and what it most definitely isn’t. 

It’s not like he can really explain it to people either. His family celebrates Christmas and he does get presents, most of which he genuinely likes, but there’s always this invisible weight on his shoulders. Like he can’t really enjoy it because there’s always restrictions that come with it. It’s in the looks his father gives him when handing over a present. Neil never does anything without having ulterior motives. Every gift he’s ever given Billy has come with consequences. Neil is calculating. Scary.

Every gift handed over to his son is perfectly calculated. 

“We’re doing so much for you, Billy.”

“ We spent so much money on your gifts, Billy.”

“ Be a bit more grateful, Billy. “

“ This family is all you got, Billy “ .

Billy looks back towards the TV, the characters are singing now, holding hands around a Christmas tree. Then his eyes wander around the room. To Max who gives him a scowl as she sees him watching her. To Susan, who glances back and forth between the TV and the kitchen where a ham is roasting currently, afraid to overcook it just a tiny bit, afraid of the repercussions. To Neil who is leaned back on his recliner, feet resting on the coffee table, eyes halfway closed, snoring coming from his nose like the growl of a cave troll. 

This is nothing like the movies.

The phone ringing catches everyone’s attention, though Billy is sure it has the most effect on him. It makes his heart drop at the thought of who it could be. It’s the one thing that helps him get through the Christmas time. The one thought that help him get through — everything. That lets him know that he is never truly alone. There’s always gonna be one person who cares even if she’s on the other end of the country. 

He rushes towards the phone, picks up the receiver and, after taking a breath to calm himself down, he answers. “ Hargrove, hello ? “ 

The voice on the other end is not the one he so desperately wants to hear. A weird feeling is spreading through him, like someone is holding him under water or sitting on his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. Like someone has reached into his chest and is holding onto his heart real tigh, squeezing it painfully.

Billy quickly turns his back towards the living room, knowing his face is probably betraying him, showing exactly what he’s feeling for anyone to see, anyone to judge — anyone to use it against him.

“ Max “ he croaks out, trying his best to keep all emotion out of his voice “ Sinclair wants to talk to you. “ 

Max takes the phone from him, eyeing him suspiciously. Almost as if she’s asking him if he’s okay, just without the words. All conveyed through a look. 

Truth is: No, he’s not okay. In fact, he doesn’t remember the last time he was properly okay. But this is not the place to show weakness or pain or heartbreak. Because there’s eyes and ears everywhere and they use those things against you. So he nods and walks back towards the couch. 

Neil is now leaning against the doorframe, self righteous smirk on his face like the villain in a Disney movie. “ Not who you were hoping for ? “ he snarls at Billy. 

There’s a sick satisfaction in his words, fully of malice. It’s as if he relishes in Billy’s misfortune. As if Billy’s pain brings him joy. 

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about. “ Billy replies before an arm shoots out, effectively stopping him from moving further into the room.

“ We both know that is bullshit, son. Don’t forget I’m the one paying the phone bill. I know you spent all of last Christmas on the phone to that — “ 

Billy’s hands curls up into a fist, his mind repeating a mantra over and over “ don’t call her names. Please don’t call her names. “ 

“ that girl. “ Even the way Neil says ‘girl’ gives Billy a sour taste in his mouth but at least it’s not some mean name. Billy wouldn’t be able to stand hearing his father call her any names.

“ She’s my friend. “ 

Neil scoffs, “ Yeah sure. Friend. “ 

Maybe he has a point. She’s more than that. She’s his constant. The only person who deliberately chooses to stay in his life, who makes an effort. The only person who doesn’t leave.

“ You really think whatever you two are doing has any future ? You still holding onto those silly dreams of going back to California and living that perfect little life with (Y/N) ? Let me tell you one thing, Billy “ Neil says then moves closer, lips right by Billy’s ears. With a low voice he speaks up again “ That is not going to happen. Never. Those are not the cards we Hargrove men are dealt. So you best start being grateful with what you have here, it’s all you’ll ever know. This is as good as it gets. “ 

And that, is exactly what Billy is so fucking afraid of. What if he’s right ? What is this really is as good as it gets for him ? 

He looks back towards the phone once again, Max having finished her phone call by now. It’s stays still, quiet. No calls. No calls. No calls.

Billy sits on the steps of the front porch, cigarette dangling from his hand. From inside the house , the muffled sound of a Christmas song can be heard. 

As his warm breath creates little clouds in the cold winter air, Billy feels at peace for just a moment. Like he finally gets to breathe again. It’s fleeting and he knows that as soon as he steps back inside the feeling will be gone, so he cherishes it.

Across the street, through the window illuminated by Christmas lights, he catches a glimpse of his neighbours decorating their tree. Mr. Miller lifting their little son up to put the star on the top. Maybe, he thinks, some lifes can be like the movies. Maybe just not his in particular.

The Fletcher’s from next door pass by his house, mom, dad a kid and a dog. They all wear matching smiles on their faces. The way it should be. When they notice him, Mrs. Fletcher turns to her little daughter and whispers something in her ears. The little girl smiles even widers then hurries across the lawn up towards where Billy is sitting.

“ Merry Christmas “ she says, as Billy regards her with a look of utter uncertainty. 

“ Merry Christmas “ he returns then looks at the outstretched hand of the little girl. A gingerbread man looks at him with big gumdrop eyes. “ Is that for me ? “ 

The little girl nods “ uh-huh. Mommy and I made them for all our neighbours. “ 

The innocence and wonder in her voice, the kindness — it makes him remember the times when Christmas wasn’t but a day to remind him how lonely he actually is. It reminds him of when things were good and Christmas was something he was looking forwards to. 

He thanks the little girl and, as she runs back towards her family and gives him a wave goodbye, Billy can’t help but smile. 

A rumbling sound breaks through the peaceful evening, followed by two headlights illuminating the street. An ugly beige colored Mercury Cougar speeds up the street, leaving a trail of smoke in it’s wake. 

Billy stands up in a rush, his cigarette dropping onto the snow covered ground. It’s an ugly car. Probably the ugliest car he’s ever seen. It’s falling apart at every end. There’s half peeled off bumper stickers and a stuffed mickey mouse hanging from the front mirror. 

By all means, he should hate this car. He doesn’t though. Because it’s where he’s made some of his favorite memories.

In the matter of seconds, after the vehicle has stopped in front of his house, he’s off of the steps, across the lawn and by the side of the car. It takes but a blink of an eye for the driver to open the door and throw herself into his arms.

There are so many things he wants to say, so many thoughts running through his head. So many questions that need to be asked and yet, he stays quiet because — because she’s here and in his arms and that is all that matters. 

Snow is softly falling around them, resting on her hair like tiny little stars. It occurs to him in that moment, that he’s never kissed her in the snow. In fact he’s never even seen her like this before, snowflakes in her hair, the tip of her nose and her cheeks red from the cold.

“ You’re here “ 

“ I’m here. “ 

“ ‘s why you didn’t call. “ 

“ Yeah, sorry for keeping you waiting — surprise. “ 

He thinks she looks adorable with her rosy cheeks and her red nose and the beanie pulled down over her ears. He thinks she always looks adorable but this is a whole new look, one he never got to see in the years they grew up together in California. 

Holy shit, California.

“ Did you drive here ? “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ In this weather ? Are you insane ? “ 

“ Worth it if it means I get to see you. “ 

He wants to cry. His heart feels so warm and happy and like it’s gonna jump out of his chest. And that kind of happiness is not something he’s used to dealing with. So his body immediately goes to crying. He doesn’t though. Instead he pulls her close and places his lips on hers. Even her lips are cold but who gives a shit. They still taste like her and feel like her and — and like home.

“ Get in the car, Billy. I have a plan for tonight. “ 

He doesn’t object. Getting away from this place, from Neil, even if it’s just for a night, sounds like the best way to spend Christmas Eve.

“ Where are we going ? “ 

“ It’s a surprise. “ 

“ Alright, okay. “ Billy replies, raising his hands in defeat and leaning back in the worn out passenger seat. “ I still can’t believe you came all this way to see me. “ 

“ Look, Billy “ (Y/N) says and look away from the street for a second to lock eyes with him. There’s something in them, so gentle and genuine. Like all the answers to all the questions in the world are hidden right there in her eyes. 

“ Last year when we talked on the phone, it broke my heart. To know you felt lonely and sad, on Christmas of all days. It broke my heart, Billy. I knew your family was shit but at least in California we had each other. So that night I decided that this year was gonna be different. It’s all I asked for this Christmas. Gas money to come see you. I’m not letting you barricade yourself in your room again for Christmas ! “ 

Maybe this is what Christmas is really about, Billy thinks. Not the songs and the lights and the movies. And maybe that’s what the movies don’t tell you. That family isn’t always who you think it is, that it’s not created by bood, but by love.

Maybe being with the ones you love is what really matters.

“ I love you, (Y/N) “

It feels like the right thing to say. The only thing that perfectly conveys just how he’s feeling right now. The gravity of it all. Tonight. Her. Them being together. 

“ Of course you do, I’m fucking great. “ 

And though it’s not the answer he excepted, it’s a good one. A very (Y/N) kind of answer. By the way she smiles at him, cheeks blushed now from something other than the cold, he can tell what those words really mean.

“ Why are we in Loch Nora ? “ Billy asks as he looks out the window at the houses passing by, growing bigger and more elaborate with each one. 

“ You’ll see. “ 

“ Alright, just tell me how you know your way around Hawkins so well. “ 

“ Ah you know, “ she says and shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly “ I did my research. “ 

“ What, you read a book called the shittiest places in North America ? “ 

“ No. I asked around. It’s why I’m late. “ 

They drive around for a few more minutes before (Y/N) abruptly stops the car just seconds before turning the corner.

“ Why — “ 

“ Do you remember what we did every year around Christmas time ? “ 

“ Get drunk and have sex in front of your fireplace ? “ 

“ No you idiot. I meant driving around — “ 

“ Candy Cane Lane “ 

“ Candy Cane Lane, yeah. Do you remember the first time we did that ? “ 

He does. Not vividly but he does. They were just kids then and his mom had taken them to see some movie in the cinema. It was one of those nights where you’re so happy and drunk on life you don’t wanna go home. Neither of them wanted to go home. So mom took the long way home, all across town, to look at the Christmas decorations. They ended up on a Candy Cane Lane by accident. His mom turned up the radio that was playing some festive song. And they just drove up and down the street over and over again. 

“ My mom took us. “ 

“ Yeah she did and she — “ (Y/N) stops and takes a breath. Billy thinks he can notice her voice shake a little. “ — she stopped in the middle of the road. I mean there was no one there so it was alright but uh, she stopped. Then she looked at us and she smiled and said: this right here, the way you’re feeling in this moment, that’s what Christmas is. That’s what Christmas should feel like. “ 

She softly cradles Billy’s face in one of her hands and places a gentle kiss on his lips.

“ I want you to feel like that every Christmas, Billy. “ 

She pushed a button on the radio and some cheesy, pop-ish Christmas song sounds through the car on full volume.

As they round the corner, an ocean of colors greets them. Twinkling fairy lights cover every tree, there’s blow up Santas and Snowmen and light up Candy Canes the size of an man.

It looks like a scene straight from some Hallmark Christmas card. Not even Billy with his perpetual cynicism can deny that this is gorgeous.

He’s alive. He’s here, with the girl that he’s been in love with since he knew what love was. The girl that was his first everything. And she’s smiling and her eye shine in the twinkle of the lights. And life, for once, feels so sweet.

“ (Y/N) ? “ 

“ Hmm ? “ 

“ Let’s go home. “ 

Her face falls “ you want me to take you back ? “ 

Billy shakes his head “ No. I wanna go home. How would you feel about another road trip ? “ 

Smiles on their faces they drive up and down the street over and over again until their hearts are about to burst from all the love and happiness they feel. 

Later, as another Christmas song echoes through the car, Billy looks outside and sees them passing the “You’re leaving Hawkins” sign. And his chest feels like and the weight is lifted.

And he’s very much in love. Maybe the movies aren’t all wrong, maybe this is just the prologue for his story. And he main part is just now starting. It’s gonna be a happy one, he thinks.

“ Merry Christmas, (Y/N) “ 

“ Merry Christmas, Billy. By the way: I love you too! “ 

Taglist; [If you wanna be added or deleted from the taglist please let me know]

@sebastiansloserclub​ / @killer-queen-xo​ / @william-hargroves​ / @billysgodcomplex​ / @daisyxbuckley​ / @allabouthargrove​ / @mcrmarvelloki​ / @charmed-asylum​ / @naiomiwinchester​ / @hargrovesprincess​ / @mystrangerfics​ / @teafrompari​ / @staybruuutal​ / @colourado​ / @higher-further-faster-bb​ / @ayybtch​ / @carlaangel86​ / @baebee35

[nonbinarysasukes]

my princess (sakuino)

Happy Birthday Monny!! @pan-princess-levy I know you requested for this ages ago, I’m sorryyyyyy :((( Have a wonderful day, I love you so much, and enjoy these cute lesbians!!

“Good morning, love,” whispers a low and rough voice from next to Sakura. Sakura doesn’t have to turn to know who it is; she just presses her back into her companion and draws the slender arm draped over her waist even closer, pulling her girlfriend flush against her body.

“Mornin’, Ino,” she yawns, leaning her head back to nestle it in the crook of Ino’s collarbone. Sakura feels Ino smile against her ear and kiss the space just behind it. 

“Happy anniversary,” Ino says with a note of excitement in her voice, rising from the bed and pulling away from Sakura, who moans softly at the loss of warmth. “Time to get up - I have everything planned to perfection! I’ve been waiting for this day for months!”

Sakura almost grumbles, but rolls onto her back and shoves off the sheets anyways, knowing that Ino is serious about their anniversary. It’s not like she isn’t, but Ino’s far more invested in this stuff (and if they’re being honest, the spark of joy in Ino’s eyes when she surprises Sakura  with something is worth it all).

“Out for breakfast, or-?” Sakura asks, tugging on a pretty dress that she had bought recently but hadn’t had the chance to wear yet. Ino laughs over her shoulder from where she’s pulling on black track pants and a purple athleisure shirt. 

“Out the whole day, actually.” She picks up the enormous pile of laundry that Sakura’s been nagging her to wash for a week, and for a fleeting second Sakura thinks that that is the surprise, since Ino barely ever clears her clothes - but then she sees the giant wicker basket that’s underneath the pile, clearly containing enough food to feed an army.

“Ino…” she says faintly. “What-?”

“We’re going on a field trip!” Ino declares too cheerfully for this time in the morning. “I’ve been storing food in this for six days, all our favorite cakes and cookies and soups and meat. I have the perfect day planned!”

“Where?” Sakura dares to ask. She’s always, always wanted to go tripping with Ino, even if just for a day. And if her girlfriend has actually included the destination she’s longed to go to forever… 

Ino grins. “You might want to change into something easier to run around in, ‘cause we’re heading up Mount Miyama.”

Sakura can’t help the scream of joy that passes her lips. She throws herself into Ino’s arms, kissing her hard on the mouth.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Ino kisses Sakura’s forehead, clearly overjoyed that her girlfriend is happy. “Anything for you.”

They both know she means it with all the seriousness in the world.

Sakura changes at lightning speed, more than excited for the day ahead. Ino’s waiting at the door, smile playing on her lips as she watches the usually cool and mature Sakura get all bouncy like a small child.

“It’s cute when you get like this, you know?” she comments as Sakura practically skips out of the front door. The pink-haired kunoichi just grins and kisses Ino’s lips lightly.

It doesn’t take long for ninjas of Sakura and Ino’s calibre to get to their destination; Mount Miyama is only about ten kilometres away, and using their immense chakra control to traverse forests at great speeds, it’s about an hour before they reach their destination.

“I want to climb it,” Sakura squeals, staring up at the rugged mountain. She loves rock climbing and she loves a good challenge - what better than to combine the two?

Ino watches her with an amused smile, clearly sharing her sentiments. “Race me?” she challenges.

Sakura looks doubtfully at the hamper her girlfriend is carrying. “What will we do about that?”

Ino laughs, tossing her long hair behind her. She sets the wicker basket on the ground and focuses her gaze on it, hands flashing through various hand signs.

“Chīsaku Suru no Jutsu!” she incants, and the basket instantly shrinks to the size of an ant. Ino slips it into her zippered pocket and zips it up, laughing out loud at Sakura’s look of amazement.

“A couple of new jutsus I’ve been perfecting,” she explains. “One to make an object small, one to enlarge it, and one to restore it.”

“Fantastic. You’re fantastic,” is all that Sakura can get out. 

Ino grins brightly at the praise. “Thanks! Now, the last one to the top is a rat!”

And she races off up the mountain without blinking, leaving Sakura crying, “I wasn’t ready!” and following as fast as she can.

They level distance about five hundred feet from the top, Sakura climbing with twice as much vigour as she usually does. Dating Ino doesn’t mean their rivalry has diminished - it may be far more friendly (and far more inclusive of makeout sessions for the winner) than it used to be, but Sakura and Ino have the intense need to compete at everything. They’re worse than Sasuke and Naruto once were. (The two have since turned into the sappiest couple ever. Sakura swears they’re straight out of a romance novel. Or, erm, gay out of a romance novel.)

Determined to one-up each other, Sakura and Ino practically tear apart the surface of the mountain in their hurried climb. They’re neck and neck, barely reaching ahead of the other, when they finally get to the summit.

“I win!” both cry simultaneously, wearing expressions of victory as they point triumphantly at the other. Then their faces fall as they realise they both got there at the same time.

“It was my win!” Sakura is the first to cry, springing at Ino with the energy of a wildcat despite the strenuous climb. 

Ino slugs her in the stomach, but it doesn’t have much effect due to Sakura’s naturally resilient frame. “No, I did!” she cries, rolling over so Sakura’s beneath her and pinning her girlfriend down. Sakura’s green eyes latch onto her blue, and both have an intense stare-off before resuming their catfight.

“I won!”

“No, I won!” 

“It was me!”

“ME!”

They tumble all over the flat summit of Mount Miyama, and both their clothes are covered in soil and grass stains by the end of it. Sakura’s panting, laying flat on her back, and Ino looms over her, grinning widely.

“Truce?” she offers.

Sakura huffs. “Truce,” she accepts grudgingly. They sit up, and Ino opens her zippered pocket, pulling out the picnic hamper. 

“Let’s hope this works,” she mutters, and before Sakura can react with panic and alarm, she’s already done the necessary hand seals, crying, “Fukugen no Jutsu!”

The basket, to both their relief, grows back to its normal size just perfectly. Sakura throws open the lid to find her favorite umeboshi and Ino’s beloved cherry tomatoes, alongside various other snacks and drinks that they both love.

“Ino…” she starts softly, turning to face her girlfriend, whose lips have turned up into a large beam. “You…” 

Ino shifts forwards and kisses Sakura on the corner of the mouth. “Yes, I did."

Sakura’s eyes fill with tears. She knows that Ino loves her, but these little gestures that give her a glimpse of that boundless ocean of Ino’s love for her simply bowl her over because it’s so surprising, so stunning that someone could adore her like that.

“Thank you,” she whispers, pulling out a pickled fruit and putting half in her mouth, then offering the other half to Ino with it still in her mouth. Their lips meet midway, the kiss sweetened by the delicacy they’re sharing, and soon after it’s replaced by the sweetness of Ino’s tongue as it gently starts to probe Sakura’s mouth.

They eat the rest of the food slowly like that, each one leading to a long kiss and in a few cases even to second base. The sun hangs low in the sky by the time they’re done, and Sakura can’t believe how simply, yet beautifully, this day has gone.

The gentle light of the fading sun over the mountains reminds Sakura of a similar excursion with Ino in their childhood, when they had sneaked atop the Hokage Mountain and played there all day. 

“You’re like a princess, Ino-chan!” little Sakura cried, looking up at her friend with worship in her bright eyes.

"Don’t be silly, Sakura. How can I be a princess without a crown?” Ino snorted.

Sakura’s lips formed a thoughtful pout as her gaze settled on a patch of flowers a stone’s throw away from where they were sitting.

“I’ll be right back!” she called to Ino, who cocked her head in confusion as she watched Sakura run over to the flowers and pick a few. Sakura squatted down, back turned to Ino as her fingers worked furiously. A couple of minutes later, she rose, something clutched tightly in her hands, and skipped back to her friend.

Sakura raised her prize high in the air, smiling widely as she put it on the perplexed Ino’s head. The flowers were haphazardly braided together, and their colours clashed badly, but when it was sat snugly on Ino’s forehead it seemed as beautiful as the prettiest diamond tiara.

“A flower crown for a flower princess!” she explained happily.

Ino gasped, bright red flushing her cheeks. She lifted the crown off her head, examining Sakura’s patchy handiwork.

Tears collected in the cornflower-blue eyes, and for a moment Sakura was worried that she’d hurt her best friend.

Oh no… it looks so bad… of course she must hate it! Stupid Sakura! she berated herself, and was about to apologise profusely when Ino’s trembling voice interrupted her.

“Sakura…” she whispered, fixing the flower crown firmly back on her head. “Thank you so much…”

Sakura’s jaw dropped.

“You like it?” she breathed in disbelief.

Ino smiled from ear to ear.

“Like it?” she declared brazenly. “No! I love it! I’ll always cherish this crown… I’ll always be your flower princess.”

Sakura smiles to herself at the memory, resting her head against Ino’s shoulder. Ino’s arm snakes around her waist, holding possessively but gently, and they relish each other’s company without words.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sakura spots a flash of colour. She turns in Ino’s embrace, the colour coming into full view, only for her to realise it’s a little field of flowers.

My flower crown skills and colour-blindness has improved a lot since then, she thinks with a wry grin and springs up. Ino gives her a questioning look, to which Sakura just laughs and calls, “Be right back!” before bounding off to the patch of flowers. She braids and twists with deft fingers, adding bursts of chakra to make the going easier. There’s pink and blue and yellow and white, and they all work marvellously together, forming the perfect crown for a woodland princess.

She clutches her hard work and skips back to Ino, hiding her hands behind her back. Ino cocks a brow at her, mouth curled up in amusement. 

“What was that all about?” she asks.

Sakura grins, bringing her hands out. In them rests the flower crown, and she puts it on Ino’s head with a flourish and a deep bow.

“A flower crown for my flower princess,” she announces. 

Ino bursts into laughter. “You still remember that?!”

“Of course! It was the first gift I ever gave you… how could I forget?” Sakura rejoins, returning to her place beside her girlfriend.

Ino laughs some more. “True… I haven’t forgotten, either.” She adjusts the crown on her head with a soft smile. 

“Thank you, Sakura. I love it.”

Sakura lays her head on her princess’ shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” she breathes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

They watch the sunset like that, Sakura’s head on Ino’s shoulder, Ino’s arm around Sakura’s waist, and the crick in Sakura’s neck as they leave for home is more than worth it.

(Even if Ino smugly jibes, "I won, by the way," before they set off.)

[neonnhoney-rec]

Min Yoongi

Here are a few yoongi recs, most of them I've read and love, some are in my TBR. Tbh most of them are smut, but some are fluff and angst mostly angst. I will keep updating this woop woop.

I hope you enjoy tehee!

revenge- @lustfuldevils

fuck boy yoongs

request: yoongi teaches you to give a bj- @kpurereactions

says it on the tin

Theres no need to be nervous around Yoongi, he’ll take care of you and make you feel good no matter what it is you’re doing.

sangria- @minstrivia

a day at the beach has yoongi hornier than he’d like to admit.

missing link- @drquinzelharleen

You catch Yoongi playing with himself before a night out and some part of you wants to join him. That’s crazy though, he’s your best friend… Right?

talk- @httpjeon​

you walk in on yoongi on the phone with a customer

act on it- @dom-joonie

You learn that the cute barista you’ve been crushing on might have an…otherworldly disposition after you accidentally cut yourself.

too sweet- @justoneday-namjoonii

you smell so sweet to them the best they’ve ever had (vampire au)

moving to a university with a few secrets, has you falling for these boys who need your help

too hot to sleep- @gamerguk

“ Umm can’t wait to get rawed in our kitchen when I’m living with the love of my life ” 

can you turn off your phone- @btssavemylifeblr

Yoongi’s alarm clock wakes you up at 6 am on a Sunday and you are not happy about it.  At least, not at first…

grey area- @blushoseoks

and just like that, your fate was sealed - because min yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. but hell if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so. 

and sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.

dancing with the devil- @minnpd​

suga daddy suga

asphodel- @hayjeon

A series of drabbles and moments surrounding Hades, the god of death and Persephone, the goddess of nature

lifeguard yoongi- @gukgalore

who knew making eyes at a hot lifeguard would get you what you really wanted.

yoongi cums in his pants- @hobiorbit

dry humping yoongi till cums in his pants cause its hot

boy .girl- @floralseokjin

Boy. Girl. It’s as simple as that. Girl can’t get a good date—scrap that—girl can’t get a good lay, and boy is willing to help out with that… Friends with benefits seems the perfect solution, except for the fact, it’s not. It never is. Not when boy already has feelings for girl…

Evil- @littlemisskookie

Your life is pretty boring, apart from being the Alpha of your pack. But it gets a bit more exciting when you discover Yoongi wants to spend his heat with none other than you.

Bet i can make you cum without touching your cock- @cyphertrip

says it on the tin

boseong breakfast- @honeymoonjin

it may be misfortune that brings you to min yoongi’s door looking for a place to stay, but luckily holly lodge has a vacancy.

Love is for birds baby- @mininky

You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Hands- @moonlightchildz

hand fetish? is that a thing?

Producer!yoongi- @matchakoo

where yoongi’s song plays over a really serene and domestic smut scene 

Please be naked- @floralseokjin 

ou find it’s easy to become addicted to a distraction…

Lonely hearts club-  @joonbird

 “In this world, currency is not money but life, and those who cannot repay their debts have no choice but to submit for the Separation - a procedure in which the soul and mind are extracted from their bodies, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. Jeon Jungkook is an underground tattoo artist hiding from the outside world. She has been waiting her whole life to be Separated. They were never supposed to meet - let alone fall in love.”

- or -

“Two lonely hearts collide.”

Rose garden dreams- @glossgf

you, a princess not yet betrothed, and your knight, Yoongi, have fallen in love. But what happens when a prince asks for your hand in marriage? What will you and Yoongi do then…?

single parent au- @yukheii​

your daughter is very fond of yoongi

Us, plus two- @deathbyyoongi

You and Yoongi sharing a moment, relishing in the glow of your growing family when your daughter has a nightmare, and Yoongi has to take care of those pesky monsters.

When the power goes out- @inkjam-moon

When a storm causes the electricity to go out, it becomes to dark in the apartment to study, so you and Yoongi have to find another way to pass the time.

Conveniently- @baeseoul

you live above a convenience store with your daughter, owned by a rather attractive yoongi. this is the story of how u and your daughter gained another member to your little family.

Destruction of a muse- @baeseoul

you’re in your last year of uni doing literature and lose your motivation, and it’s not till you meet a talented musician you get your ambition back. a. lot. of. angust.

Long distance-  @miss-noo-na

Yoongi misses the sound of your voice.

Conjecture-  @writingsofmyimagination​

Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Photoshoot tease- @shooting-stars-library

“Min Yoongi is a sexy little shit and he knows it.”

What if-  @blameblamebts

Being in a gang wasn’t a good thing, and it never would be, always looked down upon. But it isn’t what people think it to be. It’s worse. Much worse.

Aawake at night- @softyoongiionly​

You can’t sleep. Luckily, your boyfriend can’t either. 

Clair de lune- @yoonia

You were ready to leave a part of your life to move on to the next, and he is willing to give you a chance to end it glamorously. But at what cost? And will he be a part of the life you are leaving behind or will he be there for the next part of it? 

Reflections- @yoonia

“How could I ever forget about you" parent au

Faded- @yoonia

You were his soulmate, that part he knew well. Until one day he didn’t want you anymore. He couldn’t, when all he could see from you was light and all he felt within himself was darkness. Your love has gone cold as he retreated from you, burying himself deep in the dark. But what happened when Yoongi had to watch you start over with somebody else, when Yoongi let his selfishness gain control on him of you.

Monday- @strwberrytae

It’s that special time a month that brings you great pain yet great joy. Sure, there’s cramps and absolute uncomfort but your little monthly friend makes you insanely horny. Needy and desperate for a release that only your boyfriend can provide, will he cave and give you what you want?

Makeshift chemistry- @jungblue

Fleeting lust was all you’d ever known, nothing serious or long lasting, just a temporary fix to satisfy your needs. That is until you meet Min Yoongi who is determined to put an end to your binge of makeshift relationships.

What you did last summer- @winetae

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function. 

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

Bad boys bring it to you- @yuengi​

tattoo artist yoongi

Fortuna- @readyplayerhobi

300 years ago, half the world’s population died when the experimental Fortuna virus escaped. The remaining male population has been rendered infertile with one loophole that has meant polyamorous relationships have become the norm.

Crescendo- @dreamyjoons

after hours of waiting for the grumpy pianist to leave the stage, you finally have it out with him in a way better than you could have imagined. 

Restraint-  @writingsofmyimagination​

As Jungkook’s best friend recently moved to Seoul, there is one of the boys you have yet to meet. This one has a dark secret and has to use all the restraint he can to control himself around you.

Curious- @honeymoonjin

Taehyung confides in you and your boyfriend Yoongi that he might be bi, and the two of you offer to let him experiment with you to find out. 

Gingham- @ropeseok​

There’s no place like home! At least, that’s how Yoongi felt after a long night of taking the little one trick-or-treating. He can’t wait to take his costume off - however, he seems to insist that you keep yours on.​

Somebody else- @jamaisjoons

yoongi doesn’t want you anymore. but he can’t stand watching you with someone else. post break up au.

Do you love me-  @caribbeanempressblog

Yoongi is bad at feelings

Love well done- @oraclemarie

You are the executive chef of your very own fine dining restaurant. A big company makes you the offer of a lifetime, setting you on a path straight to Min Yoongi-your drunken hook up. 

Pepero day- @kittae

Valentine’s with your best friend, yoongi

The last- @kittae

When the world’s gone to shit and you’ve taught yourself to stay alive while danger lurks around every corner, the last thing you need is another mouth to feed and extra “dead” weight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to leave another human being behind, and it might as well have been your worst decision ever… or was it the best?

Baby’s fist christmas- @hobisbeautifulass​

3 months after you give birth to your first child, you and your husband start putting together the perfect first Christmas for your new family of three.

This is just to say  – @btsiguess

To say it’s unusual to have a soulmate is an understatement, and most people desperately wish to have an elegant name scrawled upon their wrist. In reality though, you’d have to say it causes much more issues than it solves.

I like you – @iq-biased

A surprise visit from a friend leaves Yoongi with a night to remember, and something to say

Small things- @floralseokjin

you and vamp yoongi have an argument

Daddy diaries- @bts-reveries

yoongi started blogging his life on his social medias to prove everyone who thought he couldn’t raise a child alone wrong. but as his daughter’s birthday draws near, what happens when she wishes for a new mom?

Drink me- @njssi​

Your vampire boyfriend refuses to bite you in fear of not being able to stop himself. But you always get what you want.

Rule of thirst- @prolixitae

vampires were just folklore until yoongi became one. now he’s got only two emotions: you and hunger. and tonight, you let him feed off you.

A ticket to the sun- @seokeros​ (ao3)

In a world where a person's life is determined by a piece of paper on a monthly basis, love is practically impossible. But there's always an exception, and with that exception, there comes a price.

Alt: yoongo gets punched in the face by a girl who believes she is cursed, and he stupidly, helplessly, falls in love.

Wildest moments- @joonbird

“Min Yoongi is forbidden territory. And although you both know better, the two of you just can’t seem to stay apart.”

Breakfast in bed- @joonbird

“Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”

Hyung, open the door- @gotmetalkinginmysleep

You’ve been keeping the boys awake with your moaning for months thanks to Yoongi. Tae and Jungkook want to find out why.

The singularity theory- @dovechim

in your last year of undergrad, you find out what a gloryhole is at the expense of your final year thesis. it’s a classic example of a psychology experiment that went way, way wrong. 

You look like you need a drink- @dark-muse-iris

After a bad week with the worst luck imaginable, you happen upon a local dive bar run by an attractive young bartender who livens up your evening.

The married life- @jungnoir

being married is never a bore when your husband is a vampire king + inspired by  “Stop calling me Princess!” “I apologize, my Queen.”.

Taxi- @honeyedhoseok

 ❛  Drinks at a bar + a rainy night + a single taxi to share with the bane of your existence, Min Yoongi = one interesting car ride back to your apartment.  ❜ 

First love- @writing-in-ivory

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi. 

pugna- @jungwoohoos

he showed up at your doorstep one day, covered in cuts and testing your patience. you don’t know why, but you felt compelled to help him. you just don’t realize how deep that runs

Mean yoongi- @jjkpls

Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.

Sour skittles- @softyoongiionly

WELCOME TO GLASSCLAW! The only city where you can get a homecooked meal and a hitman all on the same street! You moved to GlassClaw for a fresh start after a group of raiders invaded your previous compound. Unbeknownst to you, the city has its own collection of riff raff and, at the head of it all is your neighbor Min Yoongi. The mischevious merchant with one hell of a sailor mouth is known for swindling the rich and, serving the poor. The world has become convoluted and chaotic since the apocalypse but, two things were certain: You were so much more than pretty face and, Yoongi was so much more than just a thief.

Life’s little joys-  @littlemeowmeowschimmy

getting pregers with yoongi

Fear and dumplings-  @softyoongiionly

You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Min yoongi, library services- @kpopfanfictrash

When you accept the the offered research position at Bangtan University, you are well aware of your partner’s prestige. The only problem is - so is he.

Behind the stick-  @randombtsprincessa

Your bartender for the night and you take an interest in one another.

Mic drop- @ve1vetyoongi

when underground rapper min yoongi uncovers the dirty secret behind his biggest rival, your brother and hip hop champion kim namjoon’s success, he is determined to take home this year’s mic drop contest trophy no matter who he hurts along the way. you’re behind the camera, content with capturing namjoon’s picture perfect persona from the sidelines but when his hard-faced enemy Gloss, makes you realise you could be more than just the point and shoot, you start to feel your loyalties shifting.

Pinewood and poetry- @spicykoreantatertots

After getting closer to and developing a crush on your friend over the summer, you want nothing more than to cozy up to him as the seasons start to change. That is until your ex-boyfriend, Jung Hoseok, returns from his summer study abroad program. Will Hoseok stand in the way of your budding romance with your mutual friend, Min Yoongi?

His hands- @nahfamily

You hadn’t ever paid much attention to Min Yoongi until a stupid icebreaker at your office. Now, you can’t get him, and his hands, out of your head

Birthday boy- @btssmutgalore

Yoongi wants to give his best friend Jimin the perfect birthday gift… And it just so happens to be you.

Happy valentine’s day- @sweetwritertanya​

You have a very special idea for this Valentine’s Day, focused completely on your boyfriend Yoongi who comes home to an unexpected surprise. 

Happy birthday- @parkmuse

Your boyfriend Jimin has a bit of a surprise for you on your birthday, and he goes by the name of Yoongi.

Arranged-  @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong

Y/N is a struggling student in Seoul: working multiple jobs, living in a broom closet apartment, and often sacrificing her dignity for the sake of her livelihood. What happens when a handsome stranger presents her with an offer she cannot refuse at the moment she needs it most?

This tiny space-  @ubemango

Yoongi was always attractive—your sexy piece of ass, as you like to remind him often—and seeing the tight skin of his back when he undresses further makes the insides of your stomach churn in want: the kind that made you want to fall to your knees, grovel. You love having a kid, but it’s been too long.

The boa constrictor-  @tatertotthethot

You’ve always had a bad habit of drinking copious amounts of water just before going to bed every night, and for some reason, you always seem to forget that it’ll eventually lead to you having to wake up a few hours later with a dire need to pee. 

Dope- @honeymoonjin

The HSD is a branch of the South Korean government tasked with taking down the most infallible criminals in Seoul’s underbelly. Kim Namjoon, or RM, is their next target: the extremely well-spoken and careful leader of a cocaine dealing gang.

Listen closely- @avveh

Unintentionally, you stumble upon something that makes you view your coworker Min Yoongi in a whole new light.

The truth between us- @jimlingss

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle. 

Surround me- @minflix

after a very unfair and unjust firing from his bartending job, yoongi just wants to soothe his sadness by spending some quality time with his best friend - who he is very much in love with.

Cockwarming – @gukgalore​

Ngl the thought of cockwarming Yoongi is the only thing keeping me going at this point

Havana- @inkjam-moon​

You’ve spent the last six years following in your parents footsteps all the way to Cuba, trying to make them proud by finishing their research, but when you join forces with a snarky boat owner who knows more than he lets on, will things play out the way you planned them?

The equation of  love- @kookingtae​

When you met Yoongi in a club, you thought it was fate that brought the two of you together. But after you walked into your college math class for the very first time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

Workaholic- @hobiwonder​

Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night. 

Different- @satisfractions​

in which tattooartist!yoongi meets floral!reader because he needs to practice drawing flowers for his job

Salud- @yukheii

ninja yoongi (Naruto au)

Toke temptation-  @strawbxxymilk​

You accidentally confess your feelings to Yoongi during a smoke sesh

Accidents- @jungxk​

dad!yoongi makes me soft and also h*rny

Fists- @badbhye​​

reader’s first time

The early shift-  @hobidreams​

your coworker yoongi is always infuriatingly late. except the one time he’s much too early.

Mixtape- @jungblue​

Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting.

Three squeezes-  @nomnomsik​

Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too. 

Yoongi cums in his pants- @gukgalore​

where u and yoongi are making out and u start grinding on him, and he tells u to stop bc he’s gonna cum his pants. But u don’t and he acc does cum his pants

Kitten- @yminie​

Yoongi’s focus on work has subjected your relationship to having a dry spell, and with a little prompting from your best friend, you tell him exactly what he should do. But you don’t make the rules kitten, and the game you’re choosing to play is a dangerous one.

Wine- @junghelioseok​

he makes staying after-hours absolutely worthwhile. restaurant au

Renatus- @mininky​

(y/n) finds herself in a very unusual situation where her fate seems to be woven with Hades himself, who’s too much of a jerk for her to even admit that sure okay he’s kind of really good looking.​

Cobalt and charcoal- @tayegi​

soulmate au

Touch of silk-  @floralseokjin​ 

In a world where vampires coexist with the living, there are many humans looking for a cheap thrill…you’re ashamed to admit you’re curious too, putting to good use a dating app you find…but Min Yoongi is nothing like you imagined a vampire to be…

[inkstaineddove]

These Fleeting Moments

Ships: PruHun

Characters: Prussia, Hungary, Austria

Summary: After another decleration of his love, Gilbert questions why Erzsébet won't respond - positively or negatively - towards it. An examination of the revelation and Gilbert's mental state directly afterwards, putting in context his strange behavior as he left home for Berlin. A companion piece to chapter 3 of 'Business and Pleasure', but not required reading. 

1806, Vienna.

"God, you are a marvel."

Gilbert took a step back and admired the woman before him. His eyes traced down Erzsébet's body, taking special care to linger over her exposed breasts and lips. He knelt back down and kissed her, desire filling every ounce of his body. She tugged as his waistband, pulling him down deeper. They rolled and she was straddling him. Erzsébet smiled, running a cool hand down his chest and sending a shiver down his spine. "Make me feel like a woman."

Hunger, pure hunger. Hands roaming free, lips kissing and grabbing at any exposed skin they could find. What few clothes remained dropped to the floor. She wrapped her legs around him and in slid one, two, three fingers. The other teasing her nipples, pinching at them just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain. Kissing her neck, Erzsébet's breathing was hot and heavy against his cheek.

"Ah, c'mon you know what I really want," she pleaded, her voice barely a whimper. Smirking, he placed her vertically on the bed and began crawling over to her. Resplendent bliss, how soon they would find it. A noise from just outside the room reverberated. Erzsébet leaned up. "What was that?" There was an edge of frustration on her voice due to such a rude interruption.

The Prussian bent down and gave her a kiss, one more tender than she expected. "Nothing, but I'll check if the door's locked." The bed groaned as his weight was removed. He licked the residue of her off his fingers. A glint of violet in the dark. Of course he would want to check out the action. Gilbert winked at Roderich as he locked the door. A thud against it and the ringing silence afterwards. Gilbert's hunger grew. "Are you still ready for me?" He didn't have to ask twice, the lust in Erzsébet's eyes all the answer he needed. No more interruptions for the rest of the night.

---

Erzsébet's head sat on Gilbert's chest while his fingers played with the ends of her hair. Never had they both been so satisfied. He wrapped a strand of hair around his fist and kissed it. "You realize you're the most perfect woman in the world, right? If Helena of Troy ever met you, she would be jealous."

The Hungarian rolled her eyes. He was always so affectionate afterwards. And before. Really, whenever the two of them were together. "I may have been told that a time or two. I have an admirer who always feels the need to remind me." She tilted her head up to look at him properly. "You wouldn't happen to know who he is, would you? I have to tell him that I'm afraid he may run out of metaphors soon."

Gilbert kissed her softly. "No idea, but if I ever find him, I'll let him know."

Peaceable silence passed between them. Neither of them could deny how wonderful this, all of it, felt. Nor did they really care about whatever toll it may incur for them to continue having these dalliances. It was worth it to have a little slice of time where they could imagine if things were different and pretend that they were meeting under darkness out of choice, not for practicality. Erzsébet lifted a hand up and rubbed Gilbert's cheek affectionately. He couldn't resist leaning into her touch.

He watched them through the mirror above the vanity. How comfortable, how familiar. He relished when they could spend time like this afterwards, once the lust had subsided and it was only them. His mind slipped to the fantasies it always did in these times - worlds where they were humans and allowed to fall in love with no repercussions; worlds where he had married her instead, their households in Budapest and Berlin filled with joy and love that never waned. His heart tugged and he pulled her closer to him, never wanting to let go. "I love you, Erzsi." Whenever he spoke those words, he couldn't stop the awe from seeping into his voice. How could it not when she provoked such certainties within him?

"I know," her voice a whisper. She gazed at them in the mirror and her heart throbbed. She felt the same happiness as him, but feared what power those words may hold. If they were acknowledged, what would that mean for them? How would that change her situation? They could love and love deeply, but the next day she would always wake up in Vienna. Violet eyes would be the first she'd see, not red, so what could love give her? What could love do but bring more pain?

Gilbert frowned. "If you don't feel the same way, you can tell me. I'm capable of handling my emotions."

She bit her lip. Since 1786, his first confession, she'd tried so hard to avoid this conversation. "You know that's not the case." Not tonight, please not tonight. The two of them had spent three lovely nights together. Erzsébet was unwilling to end the week on a bad note.

"Then what's the case?" All he wanted was understanding. Then maybe it wouldn't feel like he was enamored with a statue.

"It's complicated, Gil."

Gilbert let out a deep breath through his nose, trying to ease his frustration. "This has been complicated, we are complicated!" He kissed her forehead. "I can handle complicated. All I want to know is where we stand, even if it can't be neatly placed."

"It can't be a matter of who I do or don't love. You're free to do whatever you want, be with whoever you please, and feel however you're inclined." She waved a hand around in front of them. "This is my situation. The lives of my people and I are limited by whatever they-" she pointed out the door, indicating Austria and his government, "-are content to allow me to do. Who cares if I love you? What happy ending will it get us? In a position like this, I can only feel safe in loving myself and even that is difficult at times." Erzsébet sighed. "Anything I find joy in is stripped away from me. My freedom, my ability to decide for myself what I would do no matter what I was told was befitting a woman, was deeply prized to me. I missed it when Sadiq took it, I miss it while Roderich holds it. I'm afraid to let my heart decide for herself what she wants. Who's to say the next up-start empire won't steal that from me?"

Subconsciously, Gilbert held her tighter. He didn't know what else to do. What was there for him to do? He could empathize before he became - well, Prussia, when he was still being tugged around by the power politics of the Holy Roman Empire, kicked around from power-to-power to do their bidding. Still, it never felt as personal as this. He had always been allowed to choose for himself, even if he was strongly advised on the consequences. He had never been ruled over so tightly.

"Why confess anything when it won't help you?" She was whispering now. "If I love you, will I wake up tomorrow in Berlin or Budapest, seen as an equal to all? Will it not bring about more pain and suffering for me or my people?" She shook her head. "My heart originally led me to this bed, believing pretty promises with no follow through. My heart is a fool, I cannot afford to listen to her again. Until I, as Hungary, can stand alone and have that be recognized by others than my heart belongs to me."

Somberness fell over the room. They sat, still, Erzsébet realizing the size of her confession and Gilbert lacking the words to adequately respond. "I-" Gilbert stuttered. He wanted to say the right thing, be the right person to help her.

"Whatever you're going to say, don't." There was no malice in her words, only acceptance. "None of this is your fault. It's how things are for now. I'll make it through. I've always had a knack for surviving." She wanted to promise what would come after, when surviving turned to living. She could feel it on her lips, but feared if she spoke it then it would be destroyed by her want.

Gilbert began to rise from the bed. "Maybe it would be better if I slept in my room." He started to retrieve his clothes.

"Don't." Her desperation surprised them both. She reached out to him. "My heart belongs to me, but that doesn't mean I can't hear it. Stay here, please. We haven't fallen asleep together in years."

Such a simple request. How could he deny it? He climbed back in, kissing her so sweetly as devotion filled his being. "Anything for you." It was more wish than promise.

---

The morning passed by in a leisurely way. Waking up besides Erzsébet, not minding the taste of her morning breath through sleepy kisses, watching her bustling around to prepare herself for the day ahead? What a dream. That morning he would've died to take Roderich's place.

Eventually it was time to leave. Well-rested, he began loading up his carriage and prattling on about nothing with his driver. Prussia always enjoyed talking with the common people. It was refreshing, their candor towards the state of their nations and grumblings about the price of things. The one constant through the centuries.

It was in this good mood that Austria caught him. "Excuse me, Gilbert, may I have a moment?" He nodded his head at the driver. "Alone."

Gilbert dismissed the man and, despite the fury in Roderich's eyes, couldn't stop himself from grinning ear-to-ear. "Thank you for being such a gracious host. I might have had the best sleep of my life last night. Your mattress is fantastic."

A blitz of pain. Gilbert clutched his cheek, processing the sound of the smack that rang through the air. All good-humor fell away, outrage quickly replacing it. "You little bitch. I bet you slap her around like that."

"Violence is the only thing you respond to. If I want to be understood by a beast, I have to speak like one. Your stupidity makes you brave, I can commend that at times. It also makes you reckless and insolent. If I catch you disrespecting me in such a way as last night, I will ruin you."

Gilbert huffed. "To be afraid of you would be like being afraid of a kitten, don't waste my time." He returned his attention back to his luggage. "You're not mad about anything I may or may not be doing with Erzsi. Stop pretending like she has any meaning to you. You resent what refuses to bend to your will like any other obstinate little prince." He turned back around, eyes like fire and full of glowing hatred. "You may own her hand, but you can never own her heart."

"Neither will you."

Gilbert winced. The memory of their conversation ran through his mind in living color. The defeat and longing in her eyes. It all felt so real, so raw. He stared at Roderich and desperately wanted to hate him in that moment, to make him understand what he was doing. All of that fell away upon looking at him. What was he, what were they all, beyond puppets of their monarch's designs? Roderich no more decided to the fate of Hungary just as he didn't decide to invade Silesia. Sure, they could give their opinions on matters, but at the end of the day it always went to the real players. They were merely the vessel. He couldn't bring himself to hate his fellow shell. Not right now.

He looked down and sighed. That didn't mean none of this hurt. "So I've heard." He looked back at the house, longing filling his soul. He could imagine him playing a knight and whisking Erzsébet away, laughing while they left Roderich in the dust. He could never have that, but he could have last night and all the little moments like that they'd collected all these years. In the end, wouldn't all those memories add up to a life for the two of them? Maybe one where they could fall asleep at night and not have to live fearing tomorrow. "But what I've got is more than you. That's the only prize that matters, right? What would we be without chasing such an elusive goal?"

"Happier," Austria spoke, as if reading Prussia's mind. They shared their surprise, faint smiles passed between the two.

"Maybe. We might have to try that someday. But for now, why not keep doing what we're doing? We've forgotten how to do everything else." He opened his mouth, a taunt on his lips, wanting to leave on their usual terms. Gilbert's heart was too heavy to fake bravado, to pretend that everything would be alright if he only he defeated Austria today. He looked up at the clouds, praying silently for assistance he didn't believe in, before meeting Roderich's gaze. "This is a meaningless existence. Tell her I'll miss her." Gilbert climbed into his carriage, feeling as if he'd left an important part of him in Vienna.

[isaacforalpha14]

Imagine #108 Isaac Lahey [Requested]

A/N: This took too long to write. I apologize, nonnie. I hope you love it all the same! 

Isaac releases a wistful sigh, gnawing on his lower lip as his calloused fingertips brush a strand of hair from your peaceful face as you sleep. Happiness has never been an emotion familiar to Isaac Lahey; his tragic childhood and guarded personality were definitive factors in this saddest of truths. The moment he’d met you changed that; he felt an instant connection to you, an overwhelming magnetism impossible to ignore, something he’d never felt before. The connection frightened him; he didn’t want to feel like his entire world revolved around someone so fragile, so beautiful and so human.

Being a werewolf in Beacon Hills became too much, the realities of the dangers settled in when everyone had to watch Allison Argent die. A seventeen year old teenager with an entire life to live and a bright future to anticipate, torn from the world by another supernatural threat. He remained grateful to Scott for being a true friend and a great alpha, but he couldn’t handle the overwhelming fear of watching someone else die; watching you die. So the moment he was given an invitation to accompany Chris Argent to France, he accepted without a second thought and showed up at your door to pack your things and bring you with him. He couldn’t leave you behind; he couldn’t protect you from the monsters that Beacon Hills brought and he’d be damned if he left the love of his life at the mercy of the next danger that would stroll into town with bloodlust in their heart and hatred in their soul. Isaac refused to ruin the day by dwelling on the past, allowing the darkness of Beacon Hills to eclipse the happiness he’d found with you, so instead, he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed unnoticed.

The smooth poignant scent of coffee grounds lingered in the humble kitchen, Isaac humming a soothing tune as he scooped the mixture into the French press with the hint of a smile on his mouth. He learned the art of making a fantastic cup of coffee with a French press just for you; he was aware of how adorably grumpy you were in the morning and it’d become a routine to share a mug of coffee together on the apartment terrace in a complacent silence as you mentally prepare for the day. He’s bustling around the kitchen, whistling a soothing tune as he lowers the plunge on the coffee press before pouring the steaming liquid into the mug you’d bought upon arrival in Paris, France. Travelling around Europe, despite the reason, ended up being a dream come true. Chris Argent, being the compassionate person he is, took it upon himself to provide you both with an apartment and the money you would need to survive without him for awhile. Despite Isaac’s protests, Chris transferred more money into his account on a bi-weekly basis, almost always an absurd amount that made him question how rich the Argent family is. It felt almost familial, the concern the Argent patriarch detained for Isaac, as if he’d somehow adopted the orphan after everything they’ve been through together. A surrogate father; the father he’d always wanted but never had.

“Morning.” His ears perk at the rough sound of your tired voice, heart skipping a beat, suppressing a smile at the sight of your disheveled hair and lethargic expression. A smug sense of satisfaction settled in the depths of his abdomen as he chuckles, pressing a warm affectionate kiss to your temple as you yawn and squint up at him.

“I must’ve worn you out.” He replies in a suggestive tone, laughing as you pinch his arm and snatch the mug from the counter with a glare in his direction. “You can’t tell me it wasn’t worth it.” He sings as you disappear to the terrace with an amused laugh and a dismissive wave. Isaac was definitely not wrong. The sex is intoxicating, passionate and primal.

The leatherbound journal, purchased for your travels with Isaac, lay on the faux stone bistro table nestled in the furthest niche of the terrace. A content smile quirking the corners of your lips as you release a sigh and settle on the soft cushion of the matching iron chair. The shuffling of paper interrupting the silence as you search for a blank page; the fresh canvas inviting the beautifully colorful script of another adventure. Isaac, despite being secretive of the details, planned an anniversary trip to another unexplored piece of Europe. Two years; it’s been two years of affectionate kisses, warm embraces, whispered secrets, laughter, and more love than some are fortunate enough to experience in a lifetime.

The warmth of the coffee within your hand was welcome as you decide instead to read Isaac’s latest contribution to the journal; an idea that Isaac had scoffed at in the beginning, he didn’t believe he had anything of worth to offer and he’d never been the greatest at writing. It took some persuasion, lingering kisses and a childish pout, but he gave in to your request and it was worth it for him to see the happiness it brought you. A smitten flutter of butterfly wings tickled your stomach as your fingertips brushed against the indentation of Isaac’s handwriting  against the journal pages.

Mystery Location,

There are so many things I’d love to say but… this adventure is a surprise. I was able to get Argent to agree to help, even though getting ahold of him at the moment was almost impossible. He won’t tell me what he’s been doing or where he’s been but I hope wherever it is that he’s being safe. The talk that we had on the phone was enough to suffice for now; despite me wishing that he could be here for this moment, for this trip. It would mean everything to me if he could be there but I’d never put him in that position. The pain that it would cause… I could never do that to him. Anyway, we’re in for an extensive ride today so I hope that in the chaos I can keep Y/N smiling. I know that Y/N enjoys traveling but crowded airports and bus stations can get even the best of us. Can’t say much more right now so until then. - Isaac

Isaac Lahey is the perfect boyfriend; he’s spent the journey being the sweetest and keeping you giggling. Even though the bus ride feels never-ending and the AC on board isn’t working there isn’t much to complain about when you’re with him. He can make the best out of the worst situations and that’s part of the reason you’d fallen in love with him; even despite everything he’s been through, he never gives in and always keeps smiling. His warm soothing voice is humming a tune, callous hand rubbing against the softness of your arm as you lean on his broad shoulder and just listen to him. He’s gnawing on his lower lip, suppressing a mischievous grin as he stares down at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky with the very hands he holds. In a way, he guesses you did because everything in his life revolves around you. You’ve given him everything that he could’ve ever asked for, everything that he’s ever dreamed of and he never wanted to know what his life would be like, now or in the future, without you in it. He hopes he never sees that day.

“We’re here.” He announces as his ears perk and he shoots a fleeting glance out the window. Only in this moment does his mind wander, heart hammering against his chest as the surprise securely tucked in his brown backpack weigh on his nerves like lead. It takes a second for him to contemplate whether he’s doing the right thing; what if this ruins your relationship? What if you’re not ready for this? What if you just don’t feel the same way he does?

“Let’s go, then.” The excitement in your voice startles him from his thoughts and just like that he’s smiling at you with adoration in his eyes. He nudges you, taking your place to reach in the overhead compartment to retrieve his backpack and then yours.  He’s shouldering a strap of each backpack, releasing a tense sigh he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in before he notices that you’d disappeared. He chuckles, straightening his posture before making his way to the entrance of the bus. “I can’t believe this.” The complete awe in your tone made a handsome smile creep across his face, this, this reaction was exactly what he’d been hoping for. He remembers, in great detail, that you’d revealed once, wrapped in his bare arms tucked securely in bed, that you wanted nothing more than to come here. To share the fantastic experience of being here, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, with the love of your life. It was your dream and if there’s anything that he intended on doing throughout his lifetime, it was definitely making sure that each and every single one of your dreams came true.

There’s a complacent silence, your fingers intertwined with his, the contrast both subtle and heartwarming, making him grin as he’s wordlessly led closer to the architectural wonder. Despite his heart running rampant in his chest with the highest amounts of anxieties he’s ever had, he still can’t help but relish the moment. The beautiful smile on your face brightening his spirits, the sunshine providing a celestial glow around your silhouette, and the purest form of joy reflecting in your alluring eyes as you gaze up at the structure with wonder. It’s in this moment that he can’t refrain from uttering the words that have nestled at the tip of his tongue for what seems like a lifetime; the instinct is so strong that he doesn’t even register he’d said a word until your attention snaps to him and tears blur your vision. Marry me.

“What did you say?” You whisper, nose twitching adorably as you gnaw on your bottom lip and try to fight the tears threatening to fall.

“Marry me.” He repeats in a dream like sigh, continuing before he loses the nerve. He’s facing you now, cradling your smooth cheeks in his strong palms as he stares into your eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You taught me what it’s like to be loved and you’ve taught me how to love. You’ve helped me pull myself out of the darkest nightmares I’ve lost myself in. You helped me see that I was worth saving. You’ve helped me become the best version of myself. I can’t imagine what I’d be without you and-” He hesitates, unzipping his backpack, retrieving the petite jewelry box from within before dropping to his knee. “I never want to have to. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I always want to wake up to your beautiful face. I want to fall asleep hold you every night. I want to grow old with you. I want to have children with you. You’re my soulmate. So, what do you say?” He’s swallowing the dryness in his throat, furrowing his brow in worry as you hadn’t said or done anything. “Do you want to be Mrs.Lahey?”

“Y-Yes.” You stammer, sniffling before holding your trembling hand out for him to slip your engagement ring on. He’s grinning like a fool, rushing to sweep you up into a tight embrace as you cry into his chest and he’s kissing your hair and whispering that everything would always be okay. He’d always have you.

[roseonhissleeve]

Have A Little Faith: Chapter Eleven

“I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars.”

- Stephenie Meyer

I was woken up by a knock on my door the next morning.

I brought a fist up to my eyes and rubbed gently, my lips forming a small “o” as I slipped out of bed. The sunlight shone through the crack in the curtains as I slipped on a pair of sweatpants and swung the door open, hair a tangled mess and eyes still puffy from sleep.

I was greeted by Harry’s grinning features as he stood there with what looked like a small box in his hands and a guitar slung across his back. My vision was still adjusting to the light in the room, and a flash of confusion struck my own face, but it was quickly replaced by a light smile at his presence.

“G’morning, love,” he stated proudly, the curls that were beginning to grow out above his ears making him look all the more charming.

“Harry, what are you doing here so early?” I asked, leaning over to rest my head against the door as I exhaled a soft laugh.

“What do you mean? It’s ten o’clock, Ro,” he chuckled, and my eyes widened slightly. I glanced back into my room to read the time that was on the clock on my nightstand. Well, I’ll be damned.

“And I’m here because I thought that we could maybe just have a lazy day in today,” he offered, raising the box towards me a little bit as if to emphasize his words. I took the box from his grasp and lifted the lid to reveal a neat stack of cannoli’s. It made me grin.

“These are my favorite!” I exclaimed, clutching the box to my chest softly.

“I know, you ate like, five hundred of them a couple days ago,” he teased with a boyish grin, waggling his eyebrows.

“You’re just jealous you couldn’t keep up,” I gigged, shutting the box with a grin. I stood up on my tiptoes suddenly to press a soft peck against his lips—it felt natural and comfortable, and I could tell that he hadn’t been expecting it because his body tensed for just a moment before relaxing all over.

I lowered myself onto the soles of my feet with a sleepy smile, gazing into his eyes before turing on my heels to walk into the room.

“Are you gonna come in, Styles, or are you gonna stand there and think about how I just hustled you out of your half of the cannoli’s?” I announced over my shoulder, plopping down onto my mattress and opening the box on the bed.

“I always knew that boys were trouble,” I said to myself, grabbing a cannoli and taking a bite. It was delicious and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I’d taken a bite.

“Boys are trouble, eh? Does that make me trouble?” He seemed to like the sound of that, and he slipped his guitar off of his back and set it against the wall. He plopped right down next to me in the bed, his face pressed against the mattress as he exhaled a soft grunt.

“Makes you the biggest trouble. And you probably have cooties, too,” I stated as a matter-of-fact, enjoying my breakfast and watching Harry on my bed. It should probably have felt weird, but there was nothing weird about it.

“Cooties? Well you’re probably infected then,” he retorted. I could practically hear the smirk in his voice even though it was hidden against the mattress, and I knew that he was talking about our kisses. My cheeks burned red, and I took a fingerful of cannoli filling and smeared it across Harry’s cheek that was closest to me. I watched as his muscles froze while he registered what I’d just done.

“You…little…menace….” he drawled, and I couldn’t help but giggle softly as he glanced up at me. Although he tried to sound angry I could make out a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“Said you wanted some,” I replied cheekily, and took another bite out of my breakfast with a crunch. I watched as he looked at me for a long moment, and I couldn’t read what his features were giving away.

“What?” I asked softly, smile softening as I looked into his mesmerizing green eyes.

“I dunno,” he said, reaching to brush his thumb against my cheek. I relished in the feeling, tilting my head into it slightly. It sent butterflies through me. “I’ve just…never seen you this relaxed. I mean, no offense, love, but you’re kind of a high-strung little thing.”

I rolled my eyes at him playfully, lifting my hand to curl my fingers around his wrist gently. I didn’t take offense because I knew that it was true. I also knew that he was the reason for my newfound comfort.

“I feel relaxed,” I stated simply, falling over so I could lay down on my side and look in his direction. “Besides, you’ve said that already.”

It was true. Last night was the best sleep that I’d ever had, despite everything that had happened yesterday afternoon. I knew that my issues would still be waiting for me when I got home, but right now I was here with Harry and he made me happy. And after he left last night I decided that it was about time for me to stop dwelling over the past, and that was what I was going to do.

Harry and I ended up sitting out on the balcony of my room about half an hour later. I’d showered and put on clothes while he sat on my bed and plucked away at his guitar and finished the cannoli’s that I did leave for him. When we finally got settled outside I had a sketchbook in my lap with my pencils laid out on the table in between us. My glasses were sitting on the bridge of my nose and he was sitting across from me, plucking the strings of his guitar.

“So when are you gonna let me look at the rest of your drawings?” He asks nonchalantly, managing to continue playing his strumming pattern without interruption. I smiled a little bit at his question. He’d mentioned over the last handful of days that he wanted to look at them, but I refused every time.

“Why do you want to look at them? They could be awful,” I stated, even though I knew that they weren’t. I didn’t think they were professional or anything, but I knew that they weren’t bad.

“Because I have seen one, remember? Back in Barcelona,” he stated, and I smiled at the memory. His blue beanie and that first encounter seemed so far away in my mind even though it was less than three weeks ago, and it was funny how quickly things changed.

“I’ll let you see this one when it’s done, then,” I agreed, looking back down to the sketch in my lap. It was currently nothing but an outline of a generic face, but by the time I was done with it, it would hopefully look like Harry.

“I’ve never been drawn like this, you know,” he grinned smugly as he turned his attention back to the instrument in his lap.

“Haven’t your fans ever drawn you?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. But never like this, right in front ‘f me.”

“What, you’ve never been drawn like a French girl?” I snickered softly before glancing up at him only to be met with his gaze on me, and a wide grin. I had lost count of how many times I’d made him smile like that this morning, and that alone brought a burst of joy to my chest.

“Am I supposed to be Rose in this situation?” he joked, and he smiled at me for a few more seconds before turning his attention back to his music. I wished that I could capture that moment—the moment where his dimples appeared and his eyes lit up like I’d never seen before. But it was too quick and fleeting, and I realized that’s what made it so special. Too special to capture on paper.

The next half hour between us was spent in comfort, no sound between us other than the sweet music of his guitar. We were surrounded by the Italian scenery that was below the balcony, and every once in a while we both looked up at each other, only to smile and turn back to our activities. By then I was working on the outline of his jaw, and I had to admit that I was glad I finally had an excuse to look at his face as much as I wanted.

When I was about three quarters of the way done my drawing, Harry had finally settled into a consistent pattern of strumming and plucking that he was working on. It sounded soft, like a ballad, and I couldn’t wait to hear what it’d sound like when it was finished.

I felt a soft pang in my chest when I realized that it was quite possible that I wouldn’t be around to hear it. I didn’t know where this was going, and just like that, the new and relaxed Rosie was in danger of disappearing. I forced myself to push the thought aside and glanced down at my artwork again.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Can you look at me while I sketch your eyes?” I said softly, and he immediately complied by lifting his gaze from his guitar, setting it aside and staring in my direction.

I’d been waiting for this for days now. I shifted my chair a little closer and leaned forward a bit more as I focused on getting his eyes just right. I bit my lower lip absently and furrowed my brows a little bit, occasionally looking back up from my sketch and into Harry’s eyes again, which never left my direction. Every so often his smile would widen just a little bit, and I’d almost lose focus.

It felt like the purest yet simultaneously most intimate thing I’d ever done.

“Alright…almost…done.” I finished, holding up the sketch so I could get a good look at it.

I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about having Harry in my book that made him feel more permanent. Like no matter how soon this ended, I’d always have him there.

“Can I see now?” He said, leaning forward onto his elbows as he simultaneously dipped his head to run his fingers through his cropped locks.

I bit my lip nervously and averted my gaze, which caused him to tut softly and shake his head.

“You promised, you goon,” he insisted.

“I did no such thing.”

“C’mon, Ro. Roooooooo. Roooooooooosiiiiiiiie,” He continued, which caused me to giggle softly and roll my eyes.

“Fine,” I gave in with a small huff.

“Perfect,” he stated proudly, leaning back into his chair and patting his lap as if he was telling me to sit. I looked at him hesitantly for a moment before standing up and walking over to settle into his lap.

“Am I too heavy?” I muttered a bit self-consciously as I rested my body weight on his legs, to which he simply clucked his tongue in disapproval and looked at me with a stern expression.

“Don’t you even ask that,” he said simply, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. It made me relax into his hold even more, and I fidgeted with my sketchbook softly.

“Alright then, sweets. Let’s see,” he prodded gently, and I continued to nibble my lip and stare at my book before looking up at him again. I exhaled a soft sigh, and eventually I flipped the page open to the picture of him I’d been working on and held it up in front of me. I could feel his chin rest on me as he looked over my shoulder, and I immediately started holding my breath.

There was a long pause and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, which made me immensely nervous. I watched as he lifted his hand and gently pressed the pads of his fingers against the paper, and several seconds went by before he made a sound at all.

“Well, damn,” he muttered softly, and I could feel his breath on the skin of my shoulder. I looked back a little bit to see his features, my voice quiet.

“Good?”

He simply replied by pressing a soft kiss against my cheek. The gesture was tender and enough to fill my heart with emotions that were rushing in like never before—it was like the floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping them now.

“I love it,” he murmured softly, and the approval meant more to me than it probably should have. We spent the next little while flipping through my book and chatting about the places that I’d been. It was light and comfortable and it was a huge sense of relief and safety after yesterday which was filled with such turmoil.

Harry was light—he brought light to my life, and I knew I was in the process of falling for him. Hard.

Almost every cell in my body was falling in love with the idea of loving him.

Except the part of me that was screaming at me to stop.

***

Two days later, we were in Paris.

I was hesitant to come because of the whole “city of romance” thing. But it was one of the destinations that I wanted to go to, and I wasn’t going to turn it down just because I was a bit afraid.

“Harry, do you need help?”

“I‘m fine, love,” he insisted, carrying both of our bags down through the hotel lobby. We’d taken a taxi from the airport to the closest hotel that we could find. For the past little while we’d always stayed in different hotels because our bookings never matched, but for this one I hadn’t booked a hotel room yet so I was kind of at a loss.

I excused myself to use the restroom while Harry went to check in and see if they had another room available. By the time I got back he was standing in the foyer waiting for me, scrolling through his phone. His eyes flickered upwards as soon as he noticed that I’d returned.

“So there’s a problem,” he admitted, pursing his lips almost nervously as his brows furrowed.

“What is it?”

“They don’t have any extra hotel rooms,” he informed me, running his hand through his hair. I could tell that he was nervous about what he was about to say. “So we either have to go out and book you a room in another hotel…or you can stay with me in my room.”

My eyes widened slightly as he mentioned the possibility of me sleeping in the same room as him. Probably in the same bed. I hadn’t even considered it, and the fact that he’d asked caught me by surprise. He could tell how nervous and anxious the thought made me, because he reached out to take my hand in his.

“Hey, Ro…s’fine. S’not like we’re gonna do anything, I’ll even sleep on the floor. Just doesn’t make sense to stay in two separate places if all our plans are together, does it now?” He made sense, and I knew that he made sense, but all I could think about was how fast it was all moving. We’d gone from holding hands and kissing every now and then, which was nice, to staying in the same room and sharing a bed? I mean, he said that he’d sleep on the floor, but still…

“Hey, Ro. Ro, come back to me…” he murmured, grazing the pad of his thumb across the back of my hand. I looked back up at him, exhaling a small breath. “It’s up to you, alright? We’ll get you somewhere else if you want. It’s just an option.”

“Okay,” I exhaled suddenly, not even really processing what I was saying until I’d said it. Once I had, however, I felt myself smile a little bit despite the small bout of anxiety that I felt.

“Okay?” I heard Harry’s voice echo, and it was small and quiet and I barely heard it, but it was definitely there.

“Okay,” I confirmed for him, and the smile that spread across his lips was beautiful. I leaned down to grab onto my bag and give him a small nod, now committed to this decision no matter what happened. He looked at me for a long time, and I raised my brows. “Well, let’s go, then!”

“Right, right,” he said, scrambling to pick up his bag. I giggled a little and shook my head, muttering how much of a goon he is under my breath and walking over to the elevator.

We made our way up to the room without much conversation, just a bit of small talk here and there about the trip from the airport and the things we’d seen on the way to the hotel.

About half an hour later we were settling in when Harry spoke to me again.

“Hey, I’ve a question for you,” I heard Harry’s voice call out to me from the balcony. I was currently laying across the bed flipping through the pages of my book, but I bent the page at the top corner so I could look up and at Harry who was now peering into the room from around the corner.

“Shoot,” I said with a smile, criss crossing my legs on the bed. I watched as he walked over and closed the distance between us, laying down beside me on his stomach with his head resting on my pillow. He looked nervous, and a few seconds went by in silence before I prodded him further. “What’s on your mind?”

“Will you go out on a date with me?” He blurted out, his gaze faltering from mine before looking up at me again. I exhaled a small laugh, reaching to trace my finger along the sharpness of his jawline.

“Why were you so nervous to ask me that?” I questioned, gently sliding my fingers into his short tuft of locks that grew right behind his ear. His lids drooped slightly at the touch, and the small act alone made me giddy.

“If I recall correctly, the last time I asked you out on a date you said no. Had to find you all the way in another country to convince you,” he reminded me, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the reminder. I’d really made it hard on him in the beginning, and it was funny to think about how far we’d come in such little time. It might not have felt like a lot to him, but to me it felt like milestones and milestones.

“I think a couple of things have changed since then,” I reassured, flashing him a grin. “I will go out on a date with you.”

“A couple of things’ve changed, eh?” He repeated, a familiar smirk spreading onto his lips as he peered up at me. I felt the redness of my cheeks brighten and I reached over to grab a pillow and swat him upside the head.

“You know what I mean, you goose,” I huffed softly as he grabbed onto my wrist in a playful manner, bringing my hand up to his lips. He pressed several pecks against the top of my hand and his scruff tickled, causing me to grin.

“Nuh-uh, tell me what’s changed,” he insisted, guiding my hand to rest my palm against his cheek. I nibbled my lower lip nervously as I watched his features, feeling a mix of everything I’d felt since I’d met him all compressed in this one moment. Everything had changed.

I lowered my face to his, the tips of our noses just barely touching as our lips remained a mere inch apart. I then pressed forward to plant a delicate kiss against his lips—it sent a rush down my spine and the butterflies in my stomach danced just as much as that first time. It lasted several seconds before I pulled away to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, whispering softly.

“That changed.”

if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving me a dollar or two! x https://ko-fi.com/C0C0VKJI

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[maximuswolf]

Looking for perspective via /r/atheism

Looking for perspective

Hi... thanks for reading my post. I posted this somewhere else because I don't know what topic this falls under. Honestly, I have been struggling for a long time to understand what the point of life is. I would not even say I am depressed because I have been through depression and all of its' bullshit. I just don't have the capacity to understand or recognize the meaning of life. I worry about the fact that we are always at the end of everything and that no matter what I do or anyone does, death is always looming over. Its' inevitability haunts me to the very core. I feel lost and scared and sad about how beautiful and giving and happy life is, and that at any moment, no matter what I do, it will all be taken away from me. Whether I am prepared for it or not. I sit with my parents and laugh and relish in the joy that comes from being genuinely happy with the people I love, but at some point, my thoughts turn to remind myself that one day these moments will all be memories I look back on. I genuinely do not understand how people live day to day and aren't overtaken by fear of the inevitability of life and death itself. I try to make the most of every day; I let myself do everything I love and enjoy and I take the time to appreciate the people in my life and the animals I love. I am not ungrateful for my life in the slightest. I have, as any human has, made mistakes and fucked up in ways that I am learning to forgive myself for. Regardless of it all, I find myself incapable of feeling genuinely happy about the inevitability of life. Who am I to have been given such a beautiful life to have it all eventually taken away from me? Why does anyone deserve it? And those who do deserve it and lose it so early, why is it taken from them without consideration? Lest the criminals and makers of destruction? Those who have less of a heart than any of us? We all eventually live and die the same? If our lessons in life do not pass on to our death, what is the point of it all? Why do I worry about who I will become if it means nothing in the end? If everything I have loved and have built upon dies, what reason is there to love and to build? Is it for the people after me? Those who die next? When does it end? When does it have meaning or purpose? I used to have faith but I lost it because my questions could not be answered. I try to live every day like it is my last. I do not hold back my happiness or my emotions. People tell me I am a calming presence. I laugh at them for the lie that it is. I am not calm. I am an infinite wave of everything. The only calm I know is fleeting. I allow my emotions to build up and crash over me once again like clockwork. Even after I tell myself that I am okay with not being in control of anything. I have never been more happy and more lost in life. I am scared because I do not want to live or die this way. I don't want to remind myself that death will come soon no matter how happy I am. It scares and saddens me. I am so grateful for life but so angry and confused about death. Thanks for taking the time if you got to the end of this.

Submitted January 21, 2021 at 09:47PM by popcropcorn via reddit https://ift.tt/2LTkGvC

[artificialqueens]

One Single Moment (Bitney) - Veronica

FIC CHALLENGE PROMPT #4 - RHYTHM, OCCASION, HATE

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything besides AU, but this prompt grabbed my attention and I figured it would be a fun way to get back to straight up canon-inspired drag queen fanfic. Hope you guys enjoy! XOXO, V

Summary - Roy gets inexplicably jealous when he sees Shane making out with a dude at a pride party, and turns into a miserable nightmare. Shane teases the truth out of him and they are both surprised by the results. Rating: Explicit

TW: heavy drinking, gay slurs (as used by Bianca Del Rio, not in a hate crime-y way)

I’m a slut for beta readers. So special thanks to my boo @toriibelledarling for her guidance with the initial concept and early intervention!! And of course, my Bitney idol, @artificialzeezee (anytime you come across a phrase and think “wow, I didn’t know V had literary skills…” I don’t. That was Z.) And the indispensable feedback from both @noxcounterspell and @wednesdayangeline !! And last but not least, @spokywrites for convincing me that I was smoking crack when I said I might not include smut. I love all you guys, thank you so much!! xoxo

Roy sits at the bar, pounding back shots, bitterness swirling around him like a dark cloud, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

It had been such a good day - a great day. It was so rare nowadays for Bianca and Courtney to get booked together, so this Pride gig was one of the most fun they’d had in years. A day of constant insults, laughter and drinking. Three of her favorite things. And Courtney. Of course. Bianca started out the intro teasing her about her pants allergy, mocked her singing, and called her a washed-up wannabe Spice Girl, among other things. Courtney relished the attention, preening and blowing kisses and deflecting by telling Bianca she was a miserable old cunt, eyes glittering with joy.

Afterwards, they’d changed and hit the town, and it was like old times. The two of them, exploring the nightlife of an unfamiliar city, pushing their way through throngs of sweaty, exuberant crowds, gripping hands and bickering, and Roy couldn’t help glancing over, amused, at Shane, his face lit up with joy at the magic of Pride, like it was something he hadn’t experienced 50 times a year for the last decade.

Roy knew that he was kidding himself. When he repeated, over and over, that they were just friends. That this imaginary boundary he set for himself was sure to get crossed at some point. That the lingering glances, the fleeting fantasies, the hugs that lasted a little too long…it had to mean something. But he stuffed his feelings down, buried them deep, held them at bay with the next best thing. A profound, ride-or-die friendship, flirting just enough to get a small thrill but never crossing That Line. Exchanging all the banter and barbs and repartee of a 30s screwball comedy, only no happily ever after at the end. Convincing himself that he didn’t need that part, because he had his best friend. Which was more than enough, right?

And all it took was a moment, one moment, to destroy everything.

The club was a two story monstrosity with pounding bass and swirling lights. Shane hung on Roy’s arm, doing his typical thing, flirting with everyone who came within a 6-foot radius, begging Roy to dance. But Roy had another plan - drink until he felt happily buzzed, then, only once he’d put up a good fight, let Shane get his way, dragging him onto the dance floor. Where they’d be sandwiched together in the final ecstatic hour before closing, and Roy could stare into his gleaming eyes for a song or two, the dizzying lights and drunken crowd a perfect cover for an illicit, sweaty, not-quite-friends, not-quite-more embrace.

“Please?”

“I said no, you wretched cumbiscuit,” Roy countered, dimples deep in his cheeks, waving at the bartender again.

“Enough drinking, come dance,” Shane whined.

“I’ve only had two drinks, and I hate dancing…”

“You’ve PURCHASED two drinks, B. That dude over there bought us shots, and you also had drinks at dinner, and we’ve been to three other bars today where I’m pretty sure you were drinking–”

“So now you’re tracking my alcohol intake, asshole?” Roy feigned offense.

Shane giggled, tugging on his arm. “I’m just saying, I think you’re fully lubricated enough that you can handle a dance floor.”

“Lubricated?” Roy raised his eyebrow.

“Yes! Pleeeease…” Shane simpered.

“Mmmm…no.” Roy shook him off, tossing him a bunch of dismissive air kisses.

Shane pouted prettily. “Fine…I’ll just dance on my own then…” He pointed to the speakers, where Robyn’s ‘Dancing On My Own’ was playing.

Rolling his eyes, Roy lifted his glass in a toast. “Kismet!” he shouted, as Shane giggled and began to sing along, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oooh-ooh-ooh……I’ll keep dancing on my own…” He twirled, finding a group of girls in rainbow flower headbands to dance who shrieked happily, screaming, “OMIGOD, COURTNEY!”

“I’m gonna go pee!” Roy called out to him.

Shane made the “WHATEVER” sign, tongue out.

“MATURE, BITCH!” Roy shouted, shaking his head and laughing some more.

Roy couldn’t have been in the bathroom for more than five minutes. And that’s only because there was a line. But when he stepped out, Shane wasn’t with those girls anymore. He was on the far side of the dance floor, pressed up against the wall, making out with some dude. Some fucking man whore in rainbow mesh shorts, triceps bulging, the smooth tan skin of his back glowing with youth and vigor.

It was like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

And Roy could suddenly feel every drop of alcohol he’d had drowning him in adrenaline. All he saw, was Shane…his Shane, in the arms of this stranger; the shock of a new found possessiveness was nothing compared to the unjustified anger that nearly knocked him sideways.

And that’s the moment when everything suddenly changed. When seething, blinding hate for this person Roy had never met began to course through his veins like fire. When his heart pounded with rage, his chest tight with the kind of intense jealousy that left him gasping for air.

He turned back to the bar, ordering shots, one after the other, and as he downed them, in quick succession, as he went back over the day’s events, thinking about how everything can shatter in an instant. Love is bullshit. A figment of our adolescent delusions.

There’d been no promises made between them. Roy had to admit that, as he drowned his bitterness with more and more liquor. So why did that moment feel like such a betrayal? It had always seemed, for all their head games, for all their bullshit, that at least they were on the same page. But now…

He swallowed the last shot in one gulp, the pathetic thought echoing in his head like the worst mantra of all time, unanswerable and dripping with self-loathing…

What is wrong with me?

And now here he is. Drunk, angry, disoriented. Filled with the horrifying realization that he has somehow, without meaning to, fallen for one of his best friends. His best friend. Who hasn’t the faintest idea. Who is probably off fucking some 25 year old underwear model on a stairwell right now. Roy feels sick, shakes his mind free of that terrible imagery, but is left with something worse - his own feelings.

If he’s honest with himself, it isn’t the feelings that bother him - he’s known about that for ages, and made his peace with their fucked up, unrequited dynamic. It’s this suffering, this pitiful feeling of helpless, jealous rage, that is pissing him off. Because he knows that after tonight, after what he just saw, all of his courage is gone. He knows now that he’s not ever going to have the guts to do anything. To say anything. He’ll be trapped. Forever doomed to watch from the outside, always invited to the party, but never really part of it.

Circling his finger on the rim of his glass, he tries to think about anything else- he looks around the bar for someone else to think about, but no one compares to Shane, unfortunately. It’s horrendous, to know he’s stuck in this miserable state of–

“Hey!”

Roy rubs his eyes, looking up to see Shane standing in front of him, bright-eyed, like nothing has happened. Like it’s all just a normal, magical night at the club. Lips a bit swollen, courtesy of his little friend back on the dance floor. Slut. “Having fun?” Roy can’t help the nasty, bitter edge his voice has.

“Yeah. I wish you were. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I dunno. Too many faggots, I guess.”

“Wow, Nice. Happy Pride!” Shane lifts his arms up, grinning. “Remember to save some of that festive spirit for the rest of us.”

“Ugh.”

“Seriously, where’d that winning smile disappear to?” Shane teases, poking him in the cheek. “Why do you look like such a morose dickhead?”

“Why are you such a fuckin whore?”

Shane raises his eyebrows, eyes dancing with laughter. Lips twisted in an infuriating smirk. “Ummmm…I dunno. That’s a good question. Maybe ‘cause it’s fun?”

Roy scoffs.

Shane leans in, whispering, “I have something really important to tell you, though.”

“Yeah, what?” Roy asks flatly.

Shane lifts a finger, pausing dramatically for a moment, and then sings breathily against his ear, along with the music, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me…”

Roy shakes him off. He can’t take the lighthearted flirting right now. It’s intended to make him smile, make him laugh, he knows this, but it’s doing the opposite. It’s making him want to scream, pound his fists on the table, to throw his glass against the wall.

“Na na na, come on…” Shane continues, taunting Roy, fingers dancing along the back of his neck as he moves his hips rhythmically against him.

“Stop it!”

Shane laughs. “Fine. You know what you are? You’re the Grinch who stole Pride!” He shimmies back over to the dance floor, once again immediately finding a group of people to dance with, tossing sultry glances back over his shoulder.

Roy groans into his drink. Getting drunk is a lot more fun when he doesn’t feel so miserable, and of course when he’s not pining over his best friend, who seems to be having the time of his life. Roy wishes he could feel the same excitement everyone seemed to be having - maybe he’s just getting too old for nights on the tear, watching everyone else get lucky. He manages to ignore him for awhile, takes a few photos with excited fans, managing to feign enthusiasm, until he feels hands on his waist, hot breath on his neck, Whitney being crooned in his ear.

“I need a man who’ll take a chance On a love that burns hot enough to last So when the night falls My lonely heart caaaaaaalls…”

Shane slides his hands up and down Roy’s back, and there’s a haunting electricity between them; that maybe had been there the whole time if Roy bothered to have acknowledged it before. Roy feels a shiver go through him as the blonde bites playfully at him, lips grazing his neck.

“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody I wanna feel the heat with somebody Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody With somebody who loves me…”

Roy glares at him. “Delightful. Shocking that you didn’t win Idol. It’s like Whitney’s come back from the dead.”

Shane giggles. “Why thank you, sir.”

“Pfff,” Roy scoffs, irritated.

He slings an arm around Roy’s shoulders. “So. Ready to join in the party yet, or still wanna sit here drowning your sorrows like a hateful old hag?”

“Hateful old hag is my aol screenname,” Roy shoots back, glowering at him.

“Aol? Damn, you are old!” Shane’s eyes twinkle. “Come dance.”

Roy raises his middle finger. “Go fuck yourself.”

Shane sighs. “It’s PRIDE! And it’s your birthday week! It’s a special occasion! What kind of gay man goes to Pride and doesn’t at least grind against a couple of cute guys at a club? Or, maybe just one particularly attractive blonde guy with a sexy aussie accent.”

Roy rolls his eyes, curses softly under his breath before managing to meet Shane’s eyes with a playful glare. “We’re fucking drag queens, you asshole. This is my fifth Pride this year, and I’m booked for 47 more. I think I’m good.” He isn’t even going to touch the fucking birthday comment. Another fucking year. Fabulous.

Shane laughs. “America’s next drag superstar…Bianca Del Rio!”

“Hey, I won the grand prize, not Miss Congeniality. So…” Roy tosses back the rest of his drink and catches the eye of the bartender, gesturing for another.

“Alright, well. Good luck with that drink. What’s that, number 22?” Shane tugs affectionately on his ear.

Roy slaps his hand away. “Stop it. I don’t know, I’m not fuckin counting.”

Shane’s eyes suddenly light up. “Britney!” He presses a wet kiss to Roy’s cheek, right by his ear, and skips back to the dance floor.

Roy accepts the fresh drink and takes a sip, closing his eyes. He turns around to give Shane some judgemental side-eye, and is met with a full-on Courtney performance, writhing and grinding to the heavy rhythm of the pounding bass, using boys from the dance floor as props.

“I’m a…slaaaave for you, I cannot hold it, I cannot control it I’m a…slaaaave for you, I won’t deny it, I’m not trying to hide it Baby, don’t you wanna, dance up on me…”

Roy grips his glass, seething. God, was he always so naive? Maybe in his 20s when the most important thing was getting a tan and not catching something from a club toilet, but he thought age had taught him to be cynical and unbreakable- a better, stronger person in his opinion. He wanted to be aloof with his emotions, but here he was with his heart on his sleeve, all because he saw his best friend kissing someone else. When did he acquire human feelings, and a real working lustful, loving heart?! He looks back into the crowd, seeing Shane in the midst of dozens of people’s heated desires, and he tries to arrange the cluttering within his mind to have a clearer focus on what feeling is the most prominent.

Of course Shane has no idea how this seductive little performance is the last fucking thing Roy needs. How what he perceives as some typical flirting, a little teasing to cheer up his friend in a bad mood, is actually driving him fucking crazy. Every flash of his eyes, every arch of his back, thrust of his hips. Hands running up his body, tongue slowly licking his lips…Shane is just being Shane. Just playing around, tossing invisible hair and pulling faces and Roy has no idea why it’s suddenly having this kind of effect on him.

The result, actually, is that Roy is getting angrier and angrier until he is literally fuming; smoke pouring out his ears, eyes turning red rage. After the last drink - another double shot, which he finishes in one gulp, slamming down the glass so hard it nearly breaks, he closes out his tab and slides off the stool, pulling on his sweatshirt and heading for the door, blood boiling.

-

He’s almost halfway down the block when he feels Shane’s hands grabbing him from behind. He groans. So much for his escape.

“Hey! Were you seriously going to abandon me back there?”

Roy doesn’t answer, keeps walking.

“Bianca!”

Roy shrugs him off. “It didn’t seem like you’d miss me.”

“Um, what the fuck, B? We’re alone in a strange city! What happened to the buddy system? This is how someone ends up dead in a ditch. You wanna leave, you have to at least tell me, so I know you’re okay…”

“Maybe I’m not okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fairly obvious.” Shane laughs. “So what’s your problem? You were fine earlier. Did you get bad news or something?”

“Just…drop it…”

“You used to be a lot more fun…” Shane pokes him in the side.

“You used to have a lot more hair.”

Shane pretends to be offended. “Low blow.”

“Yeah, well.” Roy looks away, striding down the street, hands deep in his pockets.

Shane prances beside him, pestering him. “Well, then, what’s the problem? Old man can’t hang in until closing? All that joy and celebration getting you down?”

“Shut up, Courtney.”

Shane laughs gaily, as a clap of thunder sounds and rain begins to fall.

“FUCK!”

Shane pulls Roy’s hoodie up over his head, tucking it around him in a maternal fashion. “Would you calm down? It’s just a little rain!”

“Yeah, well, I fucking hate the rain, and now we’re trapped in it, and we’re gonna get soaking wet, and it’s just the perfect end to this fucking night.”

Shane continues to hurry along beside him, pulling his own sweatshirt on. “You know, rain is good. It helps things grow. Without rain, we can’t eat, or–”

“Fucking FUCK, will you just stop it, with all this Pollyanna bullshit! I can’t take it anymore!” Roy bellows.

Shane stops. “Sure, if you tell me why you’re being such a wretched cunt.”

“It’s…I…”

“Come on, B, just talk to me. The sooner you ‘fess up, the sooner we can get out of the rain…” Shane teases, putting his hands on Roy’s chest.

Roy swallows, the knot stuck in his throat formed of his many acidic emotions, and it burns to take back down. He knows this isn’t a good idea, but somehow, the alcohol swirling in his bloodstream makes him feel more reckless than usual, and numbs that knot enough to let him speak. Maybe if he just says it, gets it out in the open, then it will stop having a hold on him. And they can go back to normal. The sober part of him would be screaming at himself: “Shut the fuck up, you cunt! Don’t you dare, or else I’ll personally rip off one of your fucking-”

“Well…?”

Roy recuperates his lost sensibility as his eyes look anywhere but Shane’s. “I…I might…have been a little jealous back there.”

Shane’s eyes widen. “Jealous? Jealous…of who?” He tilts his head coquettishly, decides to offer him an out. “I can teach you that Britney choreo if you want…”

Roy scoffs, irritated. “Nevermind, you fuckin twat.”

“I’m sorry!” Shane giggles, suddenly a little self-conscious. He regrets making light of the moment, wants him to keep talking, “Really, just…I’m listening. Just tell me what you mean.”

Clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact, Roy lowers his voice and says quickly, “I just…I might sort of, uh, be attracted to you.” He glances back at him, pulse racing with fear.

Shane looks up at him, tiny raindrops collecting on his eyelashes, green eyes gleaming in the glow of the streetlights. “Is that all?” he asks. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He leans in, pressing his lips against Roy’s, one hand moving to the back of his neck.

For a moment, Roy is in sheer bliss, warmth radiating through him, rain be damned, as he pulls Shane closer, savoring the taste of his lips. But then the reality of the situation slams into him like a ton of bricks and he shoves the blonde backwards, flustered and panting, confusion taking over. “Why are you acting like this is simple?” he demands hoarsely.

“Isn’t it?” Shane asks, cocking his head to the side. A little laugh escapes him, and he reaches for Roy’s hand.

“I mean, it’s…it’s fucking us! How can you…this isn’t simple!” Roy insists.

“…And they say you’re the smart one,” Shane says, stepping closer. “Must be the glasses and sarcasm…you’ve got everybody fooled. Not me, though. I know those books you read are just celebrity memoirs you buy in airports. You’re really pretty dumb, obviously, or you’d know that this…is actually…very fucking simple–”

Roy is reeling, exhausted from the utter mindfuck of it all. “Will you shut the fuck up?”

Shane leans in, a challenging grin on his face. “Make me.”

There - eyeing one another up, tension rising along with the heat, warm rain pounding against his face - Roy doesn’t know what up from down is anymore. And he realizes that maybe their defining moment, the one that matters, wasn’t the one back in the club when his vision blurred with rage, the sight of Shane with that asshole, the forgotten celebrant lost in a cloud of glitter and strobe lights. Maybe this is the moment that will matter. The one that will change everything. And so he decides to throw caution to the wind just like the 20 year old he used to be would have done. All in the spirit of Pride, right?

Roy spins them around, pinning Shane to the side of the nearest building, grabbing him roughly and kissing him deeply, desperately, letting all of his pent up frustration out, everything he’s been longing for since before he knew he wanted it. He moans against Shane’s mouth, raindrops now coming faster, hitting his back, soaking through his sweatshirt.

“See? I told you,” Shane pants, cheeks flushed, “Simple.”

“We have to get out of here,” Roy states, feeling himself already losing control, needing more, hungry in a way that is causing him physical pain, and off Shane’s nod, asks, “Where’s the hotel? Where the fuck are we?”

Breathing hard, Shane asks, “Uh…I don’t…isn’t that where you were walking?”

“I was just walking, I was pissed…where were you walking?”

Shane laughs. “I was following you! Blind leading the blind, eh?”

“Fuuuuuck!” Roy turns his face to the sky, letting the rain hit him, pressing Shane harder against the building, whimpering in distress.

“Alright, alright, I’ll call an uber.” He pulls out his phone, one hand on Roy’s cheek, thumb stroking him soothingly.

Roy nuzzles the side of his face, finally relaxing a little. “You sound pretty sexy saying that.”

Shane chuckles and repeats “Ubaaah…” in an exaggerated accent. He finds the app and squeals delightedly. “Ooh, look, I love it when the cars have rainbows on them! Pride!”

“You’re a 12 year old girl,” Roy murmurs against his ear.

“Just call me Lolita.”

Roy makes a face. “Would you hurry up and get the car, asshole?”

-

Given how anxious and handsy Roy was in the back of the Uber, Shane isn’t surprised that once they are in the hotel room, he turns into a caged animal who’s just been unleashed - tearing at his wet clothes, throwing him onto the bed, sucking bruises into his skin, pulling his hair. It’s like he’s trying to devour Shane, body and soul.

What does surprise Shane is that he seesaws between this raw, animalistic passion, and a kind of unsettled anxiety that he’s too drunk to properly articulate. Something along the lines of “this changes everything,” and “what does this mean,” and when Shane tries to soothe his fears, by saying they don’t need to worry, let’s just enjoy tonight, live in the moment, that seems to make it worse.

“You don’t understand, you don’t understand…” he frets at one point, burying his face against Shane’s stomach, clutching his ass with both hands. Roy looks at Shane, at his best friend, and he just knows. He wants him so much, more than anything, and yet…it’s too much, it’s not just a night of fun, and Shane doesn’t get it. He’s not going to be able to just bounce back from this, go back to how it was before. He’s not like Shane. He can’t put things in neat little boxes, separate emotion from sex, love from friendship - not with him. “You don’t understand…” he repeats.

Shane understands just fine. He understands that they’ve been rolling around on the bed together for thirty minutes by now, and he’s good and ready to get fucked, and all this circular talk is starting to get annoying. But he also understands that Roy is thoroughly inebriated, probably blackout, and most likely this isn’t going to happen, (for purely…logistical reasons) and so he takes Roy’s face in his hands, kissing his swollen lips. “I do, I understand. You’re worried that things are going to change. Right?”

Roy nods, sleepy eyes falling closed as Shane strokes his hair. “Uh huh…I don’t want…I mean I do…fuck…” He digs his fingers into Shane’s waist.

The one time you have to show human emotion, aye Haylock? Shane thinks. Couldn’t just be some kind of sex robot and do your damn job. “I know.” Shane looks into his eyes, unable to stop the wave of sadness that overtakes him as Roy ruts desperately against him.

“I’ve ruined everything…haven’t I?”  

Shane pulls the comforter over them, easing Roy onto his back, a firm hand on his thigh stilling his urgent movements. “Listen. Maybe tonight isn’t…you’ve had a lot to drink. I don’t want you to do something you’re gonna regret tomorrow.”

Roy is breathing hard. He wants to protest but the room is spinning and Shane’s body is warm beside him and so he just nods, slowly drinking the glass of water Shane forces on him, pounding heart slowing down as Shane curls against him, rubbing his shoulders, kissing his neck, gently playing with his fingers. He feels as if he’s been on a roller coaster with the erratic twists his emotions took him on, and now he’s left to recover. He wants to throw up, but whether that’s from the come down of drinking or Shane’s soft touch, he isn’t sure.

Shane can’t stop touching him. He realizes that there’s a very real possibility of Roy waking up in the morning with no memory of any of it. He wonders what, if anything, he should tell him. Maybe it’s better this way. Because as much as he wants this…whatever it is…he knows that Roy isn’t him. That he doesn’t have the same ability to seize the moment, let loose, and just play. That whatever turmoil he was experiencing will be magnified tenfold in the harsh light of day, without alcohol to dull the pain. The major difference being, once sober, he’ll bottle it up inside and it will just eat away at him.

Wrapping his arms around Roy’s warm, familiar body, Shane presses a cheek to his shoulder, holding back tears, making a decision then and there. He won’t burden him with the embarrassing reality of rain-soaked confessions or desperate embraces or the tangle of limbs that ultimately led nowhere. What Roy remembers, that’s the reality. What Shane remembers…that part can disappear in the whisper of the witching hour. A sacrifice to the gods of Pride. For a second, Shane doesn’t know who he hates more - himself or Roy, as he clings to him in the dark, holding on as long as he can, until he feels sleep tugging at him.

He kisses Roy, who is snoring by now, one final time, running a hand through his hair, and rolls over to the other side of the bed, shivering slightly.

-

The first thing Roy sees, when he manages to pry open his eyes, which feel like they are glued shut, is the array of hangover cures on the nightstand. Painkiller, gatorade, alka-seltzer. He even smells fresh coffee. He blinks, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He’s in a hotel room. It’s not his hotel room, but it looks similar. Did he hook up with someone? He’s definitely naked, all signs point to yes. Who?

That’s when he sees it. The wigs. The costumes. The makeup case open and spread out on the dresser. The…fuck fuck fuck. He’s not in a random hotel room. He’s in Courtney’s hotel room. This is bad. He sits up in a panic.

“Oh, hey, you’re up.” Shane, in a pair of the skimpiest orange briefs Roy has ever seen, and an Alaska tank top, strolls casually over to the nightstand, dropping the Alka-Seltzer into a glass of water.

“What…what am I…?” Roy’s heart pounds. He starts to have a full-on anxiety attack, looking up at Shane, sputtering, “Did we–what happened–why am I–Oh fuck–”

“Relax. Drink.” Shane shoves the glass at him. “Coffee?”

Roy nods, gulping down the alka-seltzer. He watches Shane walk over to pour him a cup of coffee, then crawl onto the bed to hand it to him, along with two advil.

Shane sits on his heels, chewing on his lip. “Better?”

Roy shifts uncomfortably, pulling the comforter tight around his waist. “Uh…” What the fuck happened last night? He tries to piece it together. He remembers the restaurant where they ate dinner, some tapas place, making fun of the way Shane began with his finger in the air, dainty as could be, and finished by shoving the delicious Spanish food directly down his throat. He remembers laughing a lot, and wine, and walking arm in arm to some bar, more drinks, a dance club, and then…Shane kissing some guy, that feeling of intense jealousy, wanting to drown his rage, dull his senses…then things got hazy. He clears his throat, voice shakier than he intends. “What…happened last night?”

Shane takes the empty coffee cup back and sets it on the nightstand. “Nothing. I mean…you drank a lot. So…the usual. That’s it.”

Roy is skeptical. “Then why the fuck am I naked in your bed?”

“Because you were naked when you passed out.”

He begins to get irritated. “Why was I naked?”

Shane shrugs.

“Courtney.”

“Don’t worry about it. I told you, nothing happened.”

Roy stares at him, eyes narrowed, a queasy feeling in his stomach. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you shouldn’t get blackout drunk so much. In your 20s, that’s partying. In your 40s, it’s just called alcoholism.”

Roy grabs him by the wrists. “What. Happened?” He has no idea why Shane is being so fucking elusive. Normally he crows about every conquest before it even happens. Normally, he’d be embellishing, laying it on thick, spinning a tall tale about their alleged drunken hook-up that made Blanche Deveraux blush.

Shane heaves a deep sigh. “It was…you were drunk. I don’t know if you even…you were in a mood, and I was harassing you to tell me why, and you said that you were attracted to me–”

Roy winces, an involuntary reaction that he immediately regrets, mostly because of the hurt look in Shane’s eyes as he continues.

“–Yeah, exactly, which I know would never have happened if you weren’t intoxicated, and I kissed you, and…” Shane hesitates, looking away.

“…and?” Roy’s mind is reeling. He doesn’t remember, and yet, there’s a lingering sense memory, as if he can taste Shane on his lips, feel their bodies pressed together. His heart races.

“And we came back here, and we made out a little, thus the nudity, and I realized that you were like, pretty much incapacitated and I’d be a sexual predator if I let things go any farther simply because of a selfish desire to live in the moment,” Shane says, words now spilling out of his mouth quickly, his voice taking on a bit of an edge as he adds pointedly, “and honestly, who knows if they even could have…”

Roy purses his lips. He’s not really in a position to protest that particular accusation. But if they didn’t sleep together, why is Shane being so…so…

Shane continues, “And then we went to sleep. So…you’re good. Virtue intact. You can you back to pretending you have no feelings, and I can go back to–”

Roy’s had enough. The expression on Shane’s beautiful face, his eyes misty. Roy can feel an instinct taking over, can feel the desire for intimacy that goes entirely against his nature. And he knows, that this moment matters more than all the others. That he needs to end this miserable dance they’ve been doing, this dynamic that’s been destroying them both while they looked the other way. So he pulls Shane closer, and whispers, “What makes you think I want to pretend?”

Shane’s heart begins to hammer in his chest. “It just seemed like…you regretted it right away and wouldn’t want to–”

Roy silences him with a kiss, forceful and slow, tongue invading Shane’s mouth. His hands wander down Shane’s body, wrapping around his waist, catching him completely off guard. After a few moments, they separate, breathless, and just look at each other, hearts pounding.

“Still drunk, huh?” Shane teases gently.

“Must be…” Roy replies, rolling him over, lips against his neck.

Shane grabs a handful of his hair, inhaling sharply as Roy finds his pulse point and sucks, hands now sliding slowly up his shirt. It doesn’t take long for Shane to realize that where last night he’d been desperate, messy, insecure…today he’s deliberate, controlled, torturously slow.

Biting down hard on his lip, Shane arches up, color rising to his cheeks. Roy has removed his shirt and now works his way down his torso, licking him, kissing him, sucking gently at last night’s bruises.

“Are you…are you sure?” Shane breathes. He’s not going to be able to handle another near miss. “Last night–”

“Forget about last night,” Roy murmurs, warm breath against Shane’s skin driving him mad. “I started this. I’m going to finish it…”

Shane simply nods, gripping Roy’s hair harder, giving himself over to the moment, letting his eyes fall closed, surprised by how easily he was giving up control. Usually he was all about manipulating the situation, being the one in charge, either overtly or by intentionally allowing himself to be objectified, putting on some kind of a show.

But right now, the way Roy’s hands glide over his skin, the way his eyes gleam with desire, Shane feels dizzy, like he’s spinning out into space, Roy’s body against his all that’s anchoring him to the physical world. He feels seen in a way that leaves him breathless, and cherished in a way that makes him open and raw.

He takes ahold of Roy’s face and kisses him deeply, tasting the plushness of his mouth, wrapping a thigh around him, heart racing. He gropes blinding for the nightstand, flinging open the drawer and pulling out the condoms and lube he’d abandoned there after last night’s disaster.

Roy glances over, slightly amused. “In a hurry, huh?” He trails a finger teasingly down Shane’s thigh.

“If you remembered last night, you’d have a bit more fucking empathy,” Shane says, fingers digging into his waist, following it up with a breathy, “…please?”

Roy flashes mischievous grin, trailing lips along Shane’s jaw, his neck, finally breathing into his ear, “Turn over.”

Shane feels a shiver run down his spine as they lock eyes. He nods, panting, flipping onto his stomach, closing his eyes, aware of nothing but the weight of Roy’s body bearing down on his, the sound of his heartbeat, the rough feel of his face where his beard is growing in. Shane reaches an arm back to wrap around his neck, turning his face to tangle their tongues together, utterly lost in the moment.

It surprises Roy, how easy it is for him to let all the worries and anxieties and fears slip away, once Shane is finally in his arms. He can feel the blonde melting against his touch, and suddenly it’s all perfectly right. Shane’s body molds to his, pushing backwards. His moans start airily, growing more and more intense. Roy holds him closer, tighter, moving faster, gripping his hips.

Shane is panting, trembling, so close now, he can practically taste it in his throat. So when Roy suddenly pulls away, he lets out an aggrieved groan of pure frustration, turning around, eyes blazing with anger.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Roy teases, dimples deep in his cheeks, “I just wanted to see your pretty face.”

Shane lays back down, hooking a leg over Roy’s shoulder, arching up, nails digging into his neck. “This is the face of a person…about to die.”

“You’re being very dramatic.”

“Ughh!”

Roy silences him with another kiss, pressing him down into the mattress. “Stop whining and maybe you’ll get what you want.”

Shane grips him tighter, knuckles turning white. “I think I liked you better drunk.”

Roy’s head drops to Shane’s shoulder, unable to suppress an evil cackle. He lifts his eyes a moment later to see Shane’s heavy-lidded, pleading eyes. He takes a finger and traces his lips, moving slowly against him. “God, you’re beautiful…”

Rolling his eyes, Shane decides to take matters into his own hands, flipping Roy onto his back and climbing on top of him, hovering over him on his hands and knees. “Would you just shut up and fuck me?” Shane asks, hands on his shoulders.

Roy grins up at him. “Only if you say please…”

Shane narrows his eyes, lowering himself down slowly, watching Roy’s face melt from a challenging smirk into blissful agony. He sighs in relief, rolling his hips, digging his fingers into Roy’s skin.

Roy begins to thrust up, slowly, hands sliding up Shane’s thighs to wrap around his waist, wondering why the fuck it’s taken him so many years to bite the bullet. Staring into Shane’s eyes, pupils dilated with lust, the feeling of his warm, flushed skin, the way he leans forward, mouth pressed hungrily to Roy’s own, sucking on his lips - it’s all better than Roy ever imagined. He moves one hand around to press Shane’s dick to his stomach.

“Ohhh, god!”

“Well, I’ve been called worse,” Roy says with a smirk, thrusting up faster.

Shane responds by biting down hard on Roy’s shoulder as his muscles start to contract, moaning into his skin, gasping for breath, grasping handfuls of Roy’s thick hair in his hands.

Roy quickly rolls him back over, taking charge again for the final ecstatic moments, driving into him harder, pinning one leg back. There’s something primal and aggressive, like he’s proving something to both of them, completely eradicating the bitter memories of the night before.

It seems to be working, by the rapturous expression on Shane’s face. Roy cradles his head with one hand, pressing their foreheads together, the other stroking his dick, earning indecipherable moans and whimpers. He brushes his lips against Shane’s jaw, stroking harder, feels him explode in his hand, muscles tightening, and finally lets himself start to come too.

Shane gulps for oxygen, hands stroking Roy’s back, arching up against him to help him through. Roy groans into his hair, lips pressed to his temple. Afterwards, Shane has an urge to say something snarky, but suddenly finds his mind a complete blank. So he sighs, inhaling the scent of Roy’s skin, listening to the sound of his heart beating wildly.

-

Roy curls around Shane’s back, fingers skating over his skin, both of them slick from sweat. He can feel Shane’s pulse still racing, as he tries to catch his own breath. “So…better than last night?”

Shane chuckles, lacing his fingers through Roy’s. “Yeah, I’d say it was slightly more satisfying.”

Roy lays a head on his shoulder. “I’ll take it.” He closes his eyes, breathing in, attempting to push down the nagging thoughts that tug at him, threatening to destroy the serenity of the moment. Those pesky, frustrating thoughts that he can’t shake. What now? Where do we go from here? Was this just a one-time thing? That queasy feeling is returning, accompanied by the all-too-familiar self loathing. Why can’t he just enjoy things as they come? His stomach churns, when suddenly he’s shaken out of these spiraling thoughts, surprised by the next words out of Shane’s mouth.

“Think you might want to do it again sometime?”

He lifts his head to look into Shane’s eyes, propping himself up on his elbow, trying to suppress a smile as he teases, “What happened to living in the moment?”

Shane pauses before replying softly, “I guess I’m feeling greedy.” He holds Roy’s gaze, bringing his fingers to his lips. There was a point last night, where he was fairly certain that this was just going to be sex. And he’d been okay with it, then. But somehow, now, in this moment, he knows that he needs more. And so he looks at Roy, eyes burning, heart in his throat, as he says, “I guess I want more moments.”

Roy smiles, taking Shane’s face in his hands, dimples deep in his cheeks. “You can have them all,” he replies.

[atma-alchemy]

After birth...Me, Baby & Ashtanga Yoga Practice

Or how to cope with being a new mum and continuing your practice of yoga

You have practiced yoga alone at home or in a shala/class for years, and then that wonderful day arrives, and your baby is in your arms.......This is a joyful wonderful experience...yet you have been thinking how do I practice my yoga now.

I am going to try and keep this blog brief...as I have hardly any time to write and I know new mums have any time to read(especially if your baby doesn’t sleep)

For me, having this baby signifies a spiritual experience, a gift, a soul lesson for which every day I look to the new lessons to learn. I have found my physical yoga practice less demanding even if I do full primary as my expectations have changed towards my mat.

So you’re into 7th Series Ashtanga Yoga,  suddenly you have to cope with the organic, messy and unknown thing called unconditional love & a new soul.......and there is lots of exploding nappies, projectile vomit and washing to do.......plus lack of sleep and healing from giving birth (how ever that was for you)...so being kind and gentle with yourself is a must.

Firstly I can only advise what I did, and I followed my instincts.....firstly drop any judgement of yourself and try to focus on what feels right for you...everyone will give you an opinion on how to raise a baby & everyone will approach getting back to yoga differently, find out what's right for you.

Heal.....I had a emergency c section at the age of 46, breast fed and had an infection in the first few weeks of the new arrival Elliott plus Recti Diastasis (tummy muscle split right up to my ribs).....I was exhausted and ill, so I took care of me, baby & partner...and that was enough...

Elliott had a tongue-tie as well, so I was back and forth to hospital, doctors and Breast-feeding clinic, finding lifts from kind souls who could drive me, as I couldn't drive for 6 weeks. (C-section)

I didn't practice physical yoga until 12 weeks, and then it was 1 salutation at a time per week increasing as time went on. I wanted to take it slow, and take the opportunity to restart my practice with my new mamma body, your have muscle memory from the pre mamma body and then you have the hidden potential with this new body...I stayed positive. There is change and some is for the better. -I ignored the baby belly, the wrinkles the stretchmark’s & let yoga take care of me...the physical and non-physical.

By 6 months I was doing standing poses, and Elliott varied in his feeling towards my practice....he wasn’t crawling at this stage, but he was vocal.

I put Elliott first, if he kicked off I would stop and tend to his needs & abort the practice if necessary...once he started crawling..The new game of yoga with a clinging, crying ,giggling baby occurred, I would stop and take care of him when needed, again giving up when necessary as he was my priority. Yoga is now a messy organic crazy place while Elliott is with me...its different but Im still practicing yoga.

I decided to enjoy, relish in every moment, practice being present & watch Elliott...he can be my moving meditation, every action, noise etc. there is so much joy and him being a baby will be fleeting

I starting having private lessons at 7 months every 6 weeks and took Elliott with me (Lauren Munday Ashtanga Yoga London) the only way I could be in a shala.

*I had no one to look after the baby (5.30-6am is a tough babysitting call), couldn't find a yoga studio local who would allow me to bring a 3-6 month old baby to morning Ashtanga yoga. (He was not crawling at the time

Elliott is now walking and it is extremely funny practicing yoga, the joy he has watching and interacting with me during yoga class is a whole new dimension to the practice.

The yoga I did try to practice through out pregnancy & beyond was the 8 limbs of Ashtanga Yoga, with great focus on the Yamas.

Non attachment (Aparugraha) to my life before birth and my yoga practice afterwards.

Non Violence (Ahimsa) to myself and those around me allow healing to the body.

Truthfulness (Satya) honesty to myself and how to develop my practice. Not pushing myself and not being lazy, finding the middle ground. some days mother hood is hard, talk to friends, family and other mums for support, don't put on a brave face x

Non Stealing (Asteya) Didn't take time away from my new born to practice, he always came first, so practice was when he slept or when he could cope with mummy on the mat. Baby time is important

Brahmacarya/Grihastha......this is easy...family first.x

So my advise, enjoy your baby, live in the moment, practice the 8 limbs of Ashtanga yoga the best you can and let yoga happen when you & baby are ready

 I now am hoping to start morning Mysore/Ashtanga class for families with young babies (non crawling) so that everyone can come practice Ashtanga Yoga with me in Seale, Farnham 5.30am-7am in the future

i hope in time I can support new mums back to the ashtanga practice and happy for them to bring baby to practice (I am qualified yoga teacher and pregnancy/post pregnancy)

Contact lisa@atma-alchemy.com for info.

Recommended Reading

Ashtanga Yoga Anusthana R Sharath Jois

Yoga Sadhana for Mothers Anna White and Sharmila Desai

The Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali by Sri Swami Satchidananda

[staticscreenwriting]

12 Days of Christmas - [Day 2]

A/N: Day number 2 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies​. Sorry for being a bit late with uploading but I just got home an hour ago and I had to edit this a little. But here it is. Enjoy.

Prompt:  “ Ah yes, the age-old tradition of an obese old man dressed in a red suit - breaking into your house.”

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

I remember meeting Steve Harrington on a cold december morning in 1985. I remember this not because I immediately fell in love with him (though he was undeniably charming and handsome), but for the simple fact that never before had I seen someone look so utterly miserable. I remember this because it was both our first day at our new job. I loved this job, Steve — not so much. 

When you’re a kid, people always tell you to find something you’re good at, something that brings you joy, and to make a living out of it. Only, if the one thing you’re good at, is spreading Christmas cheer as one of Santa’s elves at the local mall, things suddenly look very different. Suddenly they tell you to get a “real job” and life just gets confusing all over.

I enjoyed spending time with the kids, spreading Christmas cheer and trying to keep that sense of childlike wonder in my own heart for as long as I possibly could. Also, and I hate to brag, but I looked pretty good in my elf uniform. Steve pretty much just suffered his way through the day, giving the bare minimum and earning himself unamused glares from exhausted parents.

The first proper conversation we had, was on december 12th. I remember it so clearly because, hey the Steve Harrington was having a conversation with little old me. It was another frosty day though there was still no sign of snow. Steve had wanted to escape Santa’s village for just a few minutes during lunch break and since the roof of the mall was the only place that didn’t blast christmas music, he had decided to wander up here. Which let him straight to me, that weird girl, spending her lunch break leant against the railing, looking up at the sky and wishing for snow.

“ Oh uh — sorry. I didn’t mean to — “ 

“ No it’s fine don’t worry. I’m just waiting for the snow. “ 

“ Snow, huh ? White Christmas ? “ 

“ Yup. It’s what I wish for every year. Like in the movies. Always wanted to wear one of those big red ballgowns and watch the snow fall. “ 

“ You really care about all that Christmas stuff, huh ? “ 

“ Christmas stuff ? “ 

“ Mmh Elves and Santa and all that stuff. I always notice you humming along to the songs and don’t think I don’t see you rearrange the ornaments on the trees, literally every single morning. “ 

“ Do you watch me ? “ 

“ I — no! “ 

But he was blushing then, as he denied it. I kept that secret to myself, the fact that I knew he was lying. Because I knew and that was all that mattered. And I was flattered. I’m sure my cheeks were just as red as his. 

“ I just like Christmas and all that comes with it. It brings people wonderful memories, makes them feel happy. If I can play a little part in that by helping kids believe in the magic of these traditions then that’s all that matters. “ 

“ Ah yes, the age-old tradition of an obese old man dressed in a red suit - breaking into your house.” 

“ Oh aren’t you a regular Ebenezer Scrooge “ 

“ I’m not, I just don’t think Christmas is all that. It’s not like the movies anyway …. “ 

“ So what’s Christmas like in the Harrington household then ? “ 

I expected him to boast then, about gifts aplenty and the big festive meal and all that shebang we normal people didn’t get to enjoy in just quite that extend.

To my surprise, he didn’t brag about his perfect Christmas, he looked — sad. 

“ Mom cooks up a storm. Dad says it’s dry which makes mom sad. Dad gives her an expensive gift, like a necklace or earrings, to easy his guilty conscience for one thing or another. Then they give me something expensive too and take that as their free pass to voice everything about me that bothers them. So really, Christmas at the Harrington Household is one huge shit show of play pretend. “ 

It occurred to me then, for the first time in maybe ever, that Steve Harrington, with his perfect hair and his gorgeous smile, wasn’t immune to the emotional trauma so many of our parents were putting on us. Steve Harrington’s world shifted just a little close to my own then, and suddenly I could understand the gloomy mood and the frown. 

“ Yeah well, my dad left us on Christmas eve a few years ago so now every year my mom locked herself in her room and cries and I watch it’s a wonderful life on tv and eat my bodyweight in chocolate. That’s not like the movies either. It’s why I do this job, to maybe help other people make happy memories. “ 

It went silent for a moment, just us caught in the heavy realisation that though we were as different as could be, maybe the things that mattered, the gnarly emotional stuff inside, were things we shared. 

“ Look at us. Spilling our hearts to each other, looking like elves. That’s gotta be some sight to see. “ 

“ Well, just for the record, I think you make a pretty handsome elf. “ 

“ You think ? “ 

I made Steve Harrington blush two times that day. 

“ Suits you too. The pointy shoes and the hat and all that. “ 

And in that moment, I felt something in my change. Maybe Steve the hair Harrington was more than a pretty rich boy. And maybe that “more” was something I could see myself falling for.

Christmas eve came faster than I would’ve liked and though it was freezing cold, snow was nowhere to be seen. The mall closed Santa’s workshop early to “give Stanta time to deliver all the presents” when in reality Jeff who played Santa had demanded they close it early because he had a flight to Cabo waiting for him that he couldn’t miss for anything.

I knew that I had to go home at some point even if all that was waiting for me was an emotionally unstable mother and the reminder that I wasn’t even good enough for my own dad. 

Happy families were passing by me as I sat by the fountain in the middle of the mall, all wearing big smiles in excitement for the holidays to come. 

A part of me would always be bitter about the fact that this wasn’t me and that my dad had effectively taken this from me. 

“ So, I know tonight is Christmas eve and while I am miserable you relish in this season and probably have other things to do, but would you grant me a little bit of your time and let me take you somewhere ? “ 

Steve’s voice was soft and gentle as he stepped in front of me and held out his hand. I hadn’t even know he was still around, had assumed he had bolted the moment they let us off. 

“ You want to take me somewhere ? “ I asked, slightly confused and desperately trying to conceal the blush undoubtedly spreading on my cheeks.

“ Yeah, if you want to ? “ 

As if there was ever a chance I would say no to that. So I nodded.

Steve took my hand in his and I prayed to god mine wasn’t clammy or cold. Because on the list of people I ever held hands with, holding hands with Steve was definitely on the very top.

We rushed through the mall, through the crowds of last minute shoppers and past the exhausted employees desperate to go home to their families. We only stopped once we stood in front of the big iron door leading out towards the rooftop. 

Steve let go of my hand then and for a second I felt like something was missing, like his hand fit with mine so well I felt naked without it. 

“ Okay, look. I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. The thing about helping people make happy memories of Christmas even if we don’t have happy ones ourselves. Soooo … I thought it was time to create some for us. “ 

“ You wha — Holy shit! “ 

The door srung open and the view that revealed itself to me, left me breathless. There were fairy lights all over, strung from left to right and back again. A small fake christmas tree stood in the middle of the roof, decked out in baubles and ornaments. Bing Crosby’s voice echoed from a stereo, singing about a White Christmas. 

It was like Christmas threw up onto this roof. I absolutely loved it. 

“ Steve this is — gorgeous. “ 

“ Wait it’s not all. “ 

“ It’s not ? “ 

He rushed towards a big duffel bag placed in the corner and fumbled around in it for a moment before pulling out what I can only explain as a huge pile of red fabric.

“ What is that ? “ I said, stepping onto the brightly lit roof.

“ Your dress. “ 

“ My dress ? “ 

“ Your red dress. Well actually it’s a read coat, I couldn’t find a dress. I hope this works. Symbolism and all that, huh ?“ 

For the second time that day, may heart started beating faster and my breath seemed to fail me. He remembered my fleeting mention of the dress. The red “white Christmas” dress.

“ It’s perfect. Steve, this is too much.“ 

“ It’s not too much. You spend every day this month, helping other people make happy memories. You deserve this. “

I didn’t know what to say then, there aren’t really words that would’ve been enough to properly express how I was feeling then. Grateful. Excited. Half in love.

I didn’t say anything to him then, just hugged him. And it seemed to me then, as he returned the hug tightly and warmly, that maybe Steve Harrington didn’t get hugged half as much as he should have.

“ Thank you. “ I whispered. He didn’t answer, just hugged me tighter. That was all the answer I needed.

The coat was warm and cozy and felt like a blanket or pure warmth around me. 

As I slipped into it, Steve looked at me in that special way every girl wants to be looked at. Like I was the best thing he had ever seen in his life. Like the world had stopped spinning for a second. And maybe this wouldn’t end up as some epic romance story but it meant the world in that one moment and that, I would cherish forever.

“ You look gorgeous, (Y/N). “ 

He was right. I did. 

“ So, I’m a horrible cook which is why our dinner tonight consists of hot dogs on a stick, orange chicken from the chinese place downstairs and as a dessert — “ he said then motioned to the various styrofoam containers before him “ mcdonald's apple pies. “ 

“ Truly a festive meal. “ 

“ Very much so. Would you care to join me for this dinner ? “ 

“ It would be a pleasure, good sir. “ 

And so we sat down on pillows that we placed on the floor, Steve wrapped a blanket around us, and we started stuffing our faces in greasy fast food. Various christmas songs serenaded us as the night slowly crept up and took away the sun completely. 

“ This is the happiest Christmas memory I’ve made in — a long time. “ I confessed to Steve. Steve Harrington who, just a few weeks ago, was but a thought in my mind of something that will never be. 

And now here he was. next to me,cuddled up in a blanket. Making memories together.

“ I’m glad I get to be a part of it. Your dad really sucks for leaving you. But it’s his loss really. I think you should know that. “

“ Thanks. Well I think your parents should be proud of you. You’re — pretty great, Steve. “ 

“ Hey uh — “ he said and bit his bottom lip anxiously “ you ever been kissed under a mistletoe ? “ 

“ I’ve never even seen a mistletoe in real life, I think. “ 

“ Oh that’s good cause the mistletoe was sold out at the store and the next best thing I could get was a laurel branch. Let’s just pretend. That’s — if you want to. “ 

“ It’s tradition, huh ? “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ Can’t very much break such a lovely tradition. “ 

And as he held the laurel, excuse me mistletoe, branch above our heads, and his lips met mine in a kiss so soft and warm, the first snow of the season started softly falling around us.

“ You’re getting a white Christmas. “ I could feel Steve murmur against my lips. 

Oh I got so much more that night.

It is funny to think back to that year and remember the words he said about stupid traditions and the old man climbing into our houses. Because, as he tugs in our daughter and reads to her and tells her to go to sleep so Santa can come and eat the cookies they baked together and drink the milk they set out, it’s almost like he is more excited than our little girl herself. 

I no longer wish for snow. All I’m wishing for is to be able to spend my Christmas with the people I love most. My little girl and Steve, the elf, Harrington. 

_____

Taglist: Will add later, I’m too tired rn.