#there's an attention to the characters that i haven't seen in a few chapters

[dduane]

Hi, Diane, I have a technical writing question for you: How do you decide how long a chapter is?

I've noticed a trend among mass market books of authors adopting the James Patterson style of chapters lasting a page & a half to three pages, but sometimes not even half a page. It's infuriating, especially when action on a single scene is split amongst them. I grew up learning that a chapter is an association of scenes, & that breaks were left for major scene and/or expository changes. If a book had 30 chapters, it'd be 400 pages long. Now I have 215-pages novels with 45 chapters!

You've always delivered a really good, fairly even, page & word per chapter count. So what's your thoughts on how it should be defined, & perhaps any on this metastasizing trend?

I haven't been entirely clear about what to do about this since I first started seeing this divergence of chapter lengths happening. (And bear in mind, this is a wide spectrum to be dealing with. There are books of Terry Pratchett's that have no clearly defined chapter breaks at all.)

My own take on it in the short term has varied depending on what book I was writing, and what rhythm the interactions among the characters were expressing. Sometimes written character business can happen very quickly, over a few pages: sometimes it has to happen more slowly, as it does among real people—a series of interactions, a pause, then further ripening developments and interactions.

Patterson is well known (I think) for having a house style... because I'm sure it'll have been a good while since he wrote anything but the high points of any given book himself. It wouldn't surprise me at all if the house style reinforces his own preferences, which would seem to be for very short interactions... that "short attention span" we've seen being discussed for so long, and getting shorter and shorter all the time.

I think it's safe to say I refuse to go that road. I want to allow readers time to sit in the characters' business (as it were) and think about what might happen next. I'm not afraid to allow the readership time to speculate about what might be about to occur before the next sequence of events sets in.

Is Patterson afraid to allow this? (sigh) I may have been a psych nurse, but I decline to attempt to read another writer's mind: that's a sure path to a headache. Is it possible that writers are as susceptible as their readers to that short-attention-span problem... and unwilling to attempt to slow it down for fear of being seen as somehow "behind the times?"

Damned if I know. Again, I decline to judge. But I sure as hell know how I'll behave on my own ground.

...Let me suggest a possibility to you, looking forward. Patterson's rhythms have all become the same because his (for certain values of "his") books have all become the same. ...And who's to blame for that? Readers are well known, in the industry, for wanting to read the same thing again and again, just a little bit different. That's not the readers' fault any more. They've been trained to it. And the market reflects their training.

You, meanwhile, get to set your own rhythms, and (ideally) allow the reader to settle into them, if they find other aspects of your voice congenial. Just because the Patterson modality seems to be all over the place at the moment, doesn't mean that it will continue to be. The market, gods help us, is all about the New. Someday (gasp) Patterson will be Old. And then what? Will slow slowly start to become cool? Tough to tell.

For myself, I write in a lot of different modes (gods help me, right now over on Bluesky we're discussing the possibility of a paranormal travel agency German [or maybe Swiss] Christmas market cozy murder mystery); and every single one of them requires a different rhythm according to the subject matter, the thought processes of the characters, the rhythm of the story itself and of the characters making their way through it, the way the action expresses itself throughout this story, etc etc. I can't imagine what doing it the same way all the time, regardless of the story's and the characters' imperatives, would feel like. Deadening, at the very least. And isn't writing about being, and becoming, more alive, not less??

If I've got a message, it's this: Let Patterson go his own way (for whatever values of "his"). None of us are going to be him, any time soon.*

I think you should write in the rhythm, and with the chapter breaks, that best suit the story you're telling. If some of your readers don't like those... fine. Others will. Whether they like to hear it or not—and some of them won't—like books, readers too are ephemera: they come and go. Your job is to be faithful to the story as you conceive it, and the rhythms and chapter breaks you feel it needs. The story has no one else to depend on.

So: get busy being God in your own creative universe, and ignore what other gods are doing in theirs.

HTH!

ETA: Historically I've had a tendency to use the "shopping list" method described over here for my outlining, and that's routinely determined chapter lengths to some extent. (i.e., if there were ten items on the list, and [thereafter] ten chapters in a 100K-word book, then that means 10K chapters.)

...Except when I feel a chapter needs to be subdivided, or combined with another one and then the whole thing chopped into three. Or when more entries get added to the master list. I look to see how a chapter "feels" when weighed in the hand of the mind: too long? too heavy? too short? too rushed?—and then adjust its length accordingly.

So briefly: my own basic rules are guidelines, to be broken when necessary. Yours should be, too. Only experience will teach you when this is necessary. But that's just another part of the Craft. "We learn by doing..." :)

*Though do we want to be?

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Be my desire.

Aegon Targaryen × Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Aemond finds out what his brother has been hiding from the world, now he can't get over it, he needs to own it, to own you.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I found the pics on Pinterest, so thanks to the Pinterest users Mimi archives nat.

Warning: grammatical, spelling errors and I think that's all.

I know I haven't posted a new chapter of the other fic but I've been busy, I hope I can write something soon.

Aemond is like a shadow who follows every or... Almost every step Aegon gives.

In the last few weeks Aemond has lost the path his brother usually does, there's something new but secret that Aegon has in his usual routine, spending a good amount of time out of the castle, aemond has been looking for him around the city, his investigation hasn't brought any good result, there's no signs of Aegon, even his guards don't know where he goes.

«Sorry my prince, but your brother makes it difficult to follow him»

Aemond is frenetic and paranoid, why? Where? What is his brother hiding? Is he planning something? What in the seven hells is going on with him?. Aemond hates to not know what his brother is doing. He has started biting his nails, constantly overthinking about the secret life of his brother.

His suspicious change one night, when he's sitting close to the window of his chambers and sees a certain prince running to the city. Aemond doesn't think about it twice, he simply runs to the secret halls of the castle and follows his brother, he can see him walking around, for a minute Aemond thinks Aegon already knows someone is following him, so he leaves him to walk a little bit further, taking some distance would be good, he thinks.

Moments later, Aegon gets inside a tavern, drinks a couple of beers and stays there observing some guys fighting, for Aemond this is like the top of boredom, he was yawning, feeling stupid for thinking his brother had something better to do, in a blink of an eye, Aegon disappears, aemond goes outside as quick as he can and just sees his brother cloak walking to the street where the pleasure house is.

But once there, he can't find Aegon anymore, Aemond knocks every door of every pleasure house to ask for his brother, but apparently no one has seen him, all that changes when finally, a woman opens the door and thoughtlessly invites him to get in because 'his usual girl is waiting for him'. Aemond decides to follow, and once both are out of a door, the woman knocks and yells.

«Y/N, He is here, are you ready!?»

There's silence, the woman rolls her eyes, knocks with more strength on the door and leaves. Aemond doesn't know what to do, he's regretting being in that place, he's about to leave when the door finally opens, a beautiful silver haired lady, appears, with a big and bright smile that is quickly erased as soon as it looks at Aemond.

- Wrong door, sorry.

That's all you say, you're closing the door when Aemond pushes it and gets inside.

- Where's him?

He asks coldly, you're standing there in a beautiful lilac silk dress, you're afraid, you have never seen a man with so much anger emanating from his body.

- Wh... Where is who?

- Prince Aegon. Where is he? Who are you?

Your silence only makes it worse, Aemond observes every centimeter of your body, your figure, you're young enough as them, he wonders why are you there, are you a bastard? Why do you have that hair? He can't deny it, you're beautiful, your exposed tiny waist makes him imagine how his arms would look or feel around you, your cheeks are rose and your lips are juicy, your hips and thighs are bigger, like huge pillows where he could rest his head after a long day. Those thoughts vanish when your voice catches his attention.

- Prince Aegon is not here, I'm y/n, his protege and lady-in-waiting.

- Where did you get that silver hair? Are you a Targaryen bastard?

- No, I'm from the free cities and my parents were farmers, they sold me as soon as they saw my hair they thought I would bring them bad luck, since then I've been a slave and now... I work here, in the pleasure house, but I'm only here to fill my Prince's desires, I'm not allowed to attend someone else. That being said, I think I have to ask you to leave, I don't want trouble.

You're standing on the door and Aemond can't believe what you said, asking him to leave, no one has the courage to talk to him in such a way.

- What if I tell you the prince is my brother? Will you still have problems with him? What does my brother do to you?

He's seriously thinking what kind of monstrosities Aegon could do to such a pretty thing like you. He has heard rumours about his brother but never believed them, until now, the worry in your eyes makes him wonder what could happen.

But you're not afraid about what Aegon would do to you, you're afraid about what he can do to any man that dares to be in the same room as you, alone. The last one who had the stupid idea of trying to take you by force is now under the water. Now you're worried about what he could do if he sees his own brother.

- Please, I have to ask you to leave, it is for your own good.

Aemond laughs loudly, silly you, you don't know anything about him, he could easily win a fight against Aegon. While he's laughing you can hear someone walking quickly in your direction, the hallway is dark so you cannot see who is it. The fear in your eyes and the shivers in your body are an alarm for Aemond who stops laughing.

- Y/N?!

- Aegon!

You're running to him when a long hand takes you by the arm, your body is now pressed against Aemond's body and a dagger is over your neck, you can feel a bulge growing right behind your butt and the dagger almost cutting your skin.

Aegon is terrified by the scene, it is as if the most precious and valuable thing was in danger.

- Brother.

That's all Aemond says, suddenly the horrified expression in Aegon's face changes to another more relaxed.

- How did you find this place?

- I've been following you, I thought you were doing something wrong but now I see it's just you and a new whore.

While Aemond says the last sentence he makes you be closer to him, he just wants you to feel the desire you're waking up in him.

- She's mine, she's not like the other women before, she's my woman.

- You already have a woman, your wife.

- A choice I didn't make, Y/N is the woman I'm choosing, the one I want, she's my secret and now that you know it, I would like you to stay away from her.

The dagger disappears from your neck and releases you, you walk quickly to Aegon, hiding your face in his neck, he instantly hugs you, kisses the top of your head.

- As you wish, brother.

He makes a small reverence and then looks at you, smiling, you can see the evil in the way he takes your hand and kisses it.

- My lady.

You hide your hand quickly and Aegon hugs you tightly, Aemond simply disappears in the shadow, you and Aegon continue doing your usual activities, before he leaves he almost begs you to not let Aemond come in never again, you were concerned about his strange petition, why is he so worried about Aemond? He talked about his fears days later.

After some weeks you find yourself in almost the same situation, you came into your usual room when a tall man with a patch over his eye took you by surprise, you gasped, unable to scream, he quickly pressed his mouth against yours, you pushed him away and before you could slap him, he took your forearm.

- Don't touch me! Don't! Leave me! I'll tell Aegon about this!

You yell at him while he has you between his arms, smelling your hair, feeling your body fighting Against him, what are you doing to him? Something about you is making him crazy, it has been a torture to be away from you. Sleepless nights, days wasted because he only thinks about you, about your body, hating how you quickly ran to Aegon, how quickly you perceive him as an enemy and Aegon as a hero, in Aemond's opinion, his brother is nothing more than a drunk spoiled prince, but you, you have your own perception of him, Aemond can just remember the way you looked at his brother, full of devotion, desire and mostly love, love, love.

He lets you go and you run close to the balcony, he stays there, observing you, still savouring the taste of your lips, you look lovely with those scary Bambi eyes. The urgency to let you know he doesn't want to hurt you is growing inside him, what kind of spell you put over him?

- I apologize, it is not my intention to scare you, my lady, please come here.

You neglect, standing up but still away from him.

- He doesn't want you here. You have to go.

- Why does he want me away from you? What are you two hiding from me?

- We're not hiding anything, he simply doesn't want you to steal me from him, I'm his only escape.

- I fear I do not understand what you're saying.

- He thinks you only want to take his place in everything and trust me, my prince, Aegon would gladly give you his place just to be free from the court but he can't. I'm the only thing he actually chose and wanted, he wishes to keep me away from you and all those things that torture him every day.

Aemond never thought he could be so obvious about his ambitions, it's good to know Aegon doesn't wish to rule, but something in the way you're watching him, with hate, disgusted, is killing him, he feels frustrated, he's clearly a better man for you, all his life he has been trying to prove he's better than his brother and constantly finds himself angry, frustrated because no one can see it.

- Hmm, if he doesn't want me close to you or touching you, I won't, I will be at a fair distance, but he didn't put a rule about looking at you. Didn't he?

He's right, Aegon never mentioned something like that, it's not a sin, men look at you all the time, for you that's fine as long as you can keep peace in Aegon's heart.

Since then, when you're with the rest of the girls in the house, dancing, singing or Walking around, you can feel his eye on you, at first it was uncomfortable but later, you started to enjoy the power you have over him, the way he devours your body without touching, that frustrated look and him incapable to be around you, you know he will not resist his urgency but you're ready for it, you don't hide secrets to Aegon, you told him what was going on and what would you do if it happened.

Meanwhile you enjoy your nights in the comfort of Aegon's arms, he's the one you love, you don't care about Aemond, you know he's just a brat trying to steal someone else's toys, some nights you wake up anxious, you're playing with fire, you can enjoy the company of one man and torture the other one, but eventually this little game will bring trouble, tragedy and pain.

Aegon always caresses your back and your hair, bringing you peace to your heart, whispering in a soft voice how much he loves you and how he will protect you as long as he's strong and healthy.

Gods punished you for playing a dangerous game with the Targaryen brothers.

As soon as you heard about the tragedy the king suffered in battle, you knew it, you felt it. Aemond Targaryen appeared in your door once again and this time there was no one who could protect you from the prince and his desires.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.

A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.

Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.

“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair. 

“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”

You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”

Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting. 

“Daryl?”

He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”

You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain. 

Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip. 

Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas. 

“Y’okay?” 

Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started. 

“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”

“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again. 

Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”

“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”

You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone. 

“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.

“M’right here. Y’okay?”

You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?” 

Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture. 

“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything? 

“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened.  “Y’alright?”

“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.

“Get some sleep.”

With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs. 

“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.

It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.

“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"

“She’s sleepin’.”

You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”

“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.” 

She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.

You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”

“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!” 

You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.

Oh shit.

“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him. 

Yet.

“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”

“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.

“S’wrong?” 

You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”

“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”

“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology. 

“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”

“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.

Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”

“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees. 

“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants. 

���It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”

“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”

Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”

Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget. 

“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You’d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around. 

“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that. 

Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief. 

“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”

“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.

“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”

“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”

You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away. 

You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.

“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.

“Daryl?”

“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit. 

“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.

“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”

“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours. 

The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.

“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.

“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?

“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.

Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.

“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”

He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Babies cry. How—what—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.

“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”

“You’re not—”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out. 

Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.

“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.

[fivelila]

Did Five love Lila before the subway?

Well, this is a question only he knows the answer to, but today I found myself reflecting on a few scenes, and I want to share my thoughts and observations with you...

Season 2

At first, Five pretty much ignored Lila, seeing her merely as Diego's girlfriend from the mental hospital. Later, he sensed she might be lying about who she really was. In the scene where she saves him from the Swede, his expression clearly shows he’s surprised. I think that’s the moment she genuinely caught his attention—for the first time. Of course, his caution won out, and he kept an even closer eye on her. Still, I believe this was a pivotal moment.

During their first fight, Five was clearly the superior one and could have won easily. However, his triumphant gaze at her held something else: he was enjoying it. I think he found her challenging and intriguing, which drew him in.

Five bluntly tells Diego the truth about Lila, even though he sees how hurt Diego is. He throws it in his face, emphasizing that he himself is the reason they got together (more on this in Season 3).

The second fight is far more intense, with Lila determined to kill him. At this point, Five likely believed she was just another tool of the Handler and saw her as a threat he’d eliminate if necessary.

When he learns the truth about her parents, his reaction shows genuine shock. He realizes she has personal, valid reasons for targeting him. This revelation shifts his perspective; from this point, I believe he no longer truly wants to harm her.

Season 3

When Five discovers Lila has returned, she’s the only one he wants to partner with. Yes, he values her skills, but was that the only reason? I think he also wanted her company.

The bathroom scene is a chapter of its own. He must have known she was still angry with him. In this fight, it feels like Five is more focused on defending himself than actually attacking her. When Lila calls it off, he stops immediately and engages with her about the situation. This scene feels like a way to clear the air between them. And honestly, barging into someone’s bathroom isn’t exactly normal behavior—he was really asking for it. And that stance of his while talking to her? Well…

Later, when they argue, Five tells her Diego probably truly loves her. This moment stands out. Was he doing it for Diego? I don’t think so. He likely suspected "her son" might be part of her revenge plan, but why bring up Diego’s feelings? In Season 2, he didn’t seem interested in matchmaking for Diego. Could it have been for himself? To stop Lila from leaving later? Perhaps he knew the only reason she might stay was Diego.

Five understands that, because of her parents, Diego, and his own age issue, he didn’t stand a chance with her at that time. If she left, he might never see her again (I doubt he guessed she was pregnant). Reconciling her with Diego was likely the only way to keep her around. Or perhaps reflecting his own (burgeoning / unacknowledged) feelings?

At the Commission, when Lila leaves the bunker, Five glances at her in a way that suggests he doesn’t want the world to end—partly because that would mean losing her, too.

Later on, it's just small moments, but still iconic, like their dance and the apparent shift towards a truce between them.

Season 4

After six years, we don’t know much about how often Five and Lila saw each other. But given their somewhat normal lives, it likely happened a few times. Even though the first episode of the season makes it seem like most of the characters haven't seen each other in years, presenting some information in the style of family members interacting for the first time in years (well, it wasn't happily done).

The banter between Lila and Five persists, but there’s also trust. Once again, it’s just the two of them teaming up for a new mission. It’s clear by now that he genuinely cares about her and wants to protect her.

When Five talks to Diego about burying something deep and pouring concrete over it, it feels personal. What could he be referring to more than his soft spot for Diego’s wife? He also talks about Lila not giving up what she has - as if he had thought about it before.

He also agrees to her crazy idea. As in Season 3, he likely saw it as an opportunity to spend more time with her while solving mysteries.

And the subway? We all know. Only a blind person wouldn’t see that Five had fallen completely in love with her during those years. Despite the insane situation, he looked happier than ever. His smiles were genuine... and so were his glances at Lila.

So... When did he fall in love with Lila?

I think, It likely built up over time, like a snowball rolling downhill, starting from the very beginning. But the subway gave him the chance to fully embrace those feelings, and their greenhouse gave him the courage to act on them.

What do you think?

[the-anonmaton]

Whatever Feels Right

Chapter 2 / 4 - Preliminary

Relationships : Sevika x Reader Characters : Sevika, Original Female Character Rating: Explicit Tags : Kissing, Making Out, Nipple Play, Biting, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Dom Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Body Worship, Nudity, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Safe Sane and Consensual, Aftercare, Gentle Kissing, Undressing, Licking, Foreplay, First Time, bottom reader, Virgin Reader, Anxiety, Soft Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Angst, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Panic Attacks, Awkward Conversations, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort Chapters : 4 ( 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ) Words : 17,331

Summary:

What about your first time with Sevika?

CONTENT WARNING: This fic is about an inexperienced reader and the need to stop during her first time, since she’s not ready. Chapter 4 is where some second thoughts are expressed and some anxiety-heavy stuff and panic, but Sevika is a thoughtful lover, so everything is fine.

**********

"Okay. Let's go home."

**********

And here you were, back to the place you both called home, in your shared bedroom, both still dressed, you sitting at the edge of the mattress, her walking towards you after discarding her cloak on the floor in the middle of the room.

The walk back to your home was a blur. You couldn't think straight or focus anywhere, let alone at the path you have crossed every day to and from work. You could only rely on the warm hand holding yours and trust it to guide you through the streets. But the only constant thing from the bar to where you were now sitting on the bed was the excitement you felt. You would finally take the next step with the woman you love and you felt so stupid it took you so long. You loved her and wanted to share everything with her.

Once she crossed the room and got to you, she knelt down in front of you, put her hands on either side of your face and made sure to catch your eyes. You never lost track of them. How could you? Your hands flew to her wrists, just holding her, grounding yourself.

"If for a second it doesn't feel right, you tell me. Okay?"

You could only nod. You haven't said a word since you left the bar. You thought that if you did the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be a scream. A good one though. No, the embarrassment would be too much, so you remained silent.

"Words, baby. Please." You felt the hands cupping your face pulling just a little, so she could get your attention and make you focus.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath through your nose, held it and let it out slowly from your mouth. A simple technique that always worked when anxiety tried to get the better of you. But the fact that she was always there, along with the patterns her thumbs were now tracing on your cheeks, managed to calm your nerves and excitement, to make you open your eyes and you finally felt that you could utter a few words.

"Okay."

Fine, it was one word. But she deemed it enough, since she seemed to relax and stood up. But before she let go of your face, she leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips and you hummed at the gesture.

"I love you, baby." She whispered, her lips ghosting over yours.

"I love you." You answered back with a smile and a trembling voice caused by your excitement.

"Tell me, okay?" She once again asked, and you once again nodded.

**********

You knew Sevika was always aware of her actions and never did anything without some sort of reason. That's what you thought when she started stripping in front you. Of course you’ve seen each other half-naked before. She wasn't particularly shy and she would get ready in the mornings, pop in and out of a bath, or change out of her work clothes into some casual sleepwear without caring if you were in the room with her or not.

You on the other hand were quite conscious of your body, or of her seeing you even in your underwear. So, you would usually turn away to allow her some privacy, or mostly to allow yourself to change without the stress of her accidentally looking over at you. Once she caught up, which was almost instantly after you two got together, she started doing the same so you would feel comfortable and to not overwhelm you.

This thought was going through your mind while she was undressing. She never did anything without a reason. And now she was letting herself be vulnerable in front of you so you would know that it's okay. The thoughtfulness of your girlfriend could make your heart explode and if you could, you would fall in love with her all over again.

There was nothing sexy or seductive about her movements. She was just undressing, occasionally catching your eyes and smiling softly at you. Of course you knew about the muscles underneath her clothes and you always appreciated them whenever you were allowed a glimpse.

So now you were looking mesmerized by the view she was giving you. Her toned abs, her thick thighs, her broad shoulders, her biceps bulging whenever she moved, her blue scars a constellation over her dark skin. You were starting to feel lightheaded and she wasn't even fully naked. You loved her strong body and she knew it, so she would flex every now and then just to hear your sharp intake of breath and then chuckle and wink at you. Thank the gods for her silly little act, at least that would make you relax and take a breath or two.

But your ability to breathe was taken away from you when she finally dropped the last piece of clothing. She was a naked goddess in front of you and you felt so small. You could only sit there at the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets, just admiring your girlfriend. While she was undressing you tried to look everywhere you could, but now your only focus was on her breasts. On her full, dark, peaked nipples, on the goosebumps that appeared around them, on some other little scars hidden by her bra, on the full pattern of the blue streaks on her skin. Then your gaze shifted down to the full bush between her legs and you swallowed hard, before looking up and realizing she was moving again.

This time, your nude goddess of a girlfriend was once again in front of you and kneeling. She gently took your hands that were about to put a few holes in the sheets from how hard they were gripping at them and held them in her own, gently stroking the back of them with her thumbs. The sensory contrast between her cold metal and warm flesh would always help you relax whenever she held you like that.

"You okay?" Her soft voice helped you breathe a little easier.

"You're beautiful." You whispered, making her chuckle.

"Come here."

She pulled you up and now that you were both standing, your head was almost at the same height as her breasts and you awkwardly looked up at her, only to find her smiling at you, reassuring you. She guided your right hand to her waist and placed your left one above her right breast, over her collarbone. You had never touched each other so intimately. You felt unsure of what to do and you were certain she could feel the trembling of your hands on her skin.

"It's okay, you can touch, baby."

She was giving you permission. She knew you never had any experiences beyond a few kisses and make-outs with some exes, so now she was letting you explore and see for yourself what you liked. You looked down and tentatively moved the hand that was on her waist towards her stomach, feeling her abs and tracing with your fingers any scars in your path.

"I can flex if you want." In your stupor you didn’t expect to hear anything and you jumped before turning up to face her and see her smirking.

"What?" The buzzing in your ears didn't let you hear her clearly.

"I said, I can flex if you want." She said and she immediately flexed her abs.

The somewhat soft spot on her stomach that you were touching suddenly felt rock hard under your fingers, and you couldn't help but push a little harder, feeling the strong muscle.

"Damn you." You managed with a chuckle, letting both of your hands drop to your sides, while taking half a step back.

"What?" She followed you with half a step forward, the amusement evident in her voice and her smile.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Definitely not. Are you okay?" She took your now clenching hands and held them again, smoothing them open with gentle thumbs.

"Yeah, yeah. Are you okay though? With me touching you?" It seemed that she was doing everything to accommodate you and your nerves, and not caring at all about herself.

"I'm okay, don't worry. Just do what feels right." She said softly and placed your hands to their previous place on her body.

Your little back and forth was enough to calm you down. Once again Sevika had your back and made sure to help you relax, and you loved her for it. Damn, you wanted to give her everything.

And now you were back at it, exploring her body.

You moved your right hand that was once again resting on her waist and slid it down, just below her hip bone, the tips of your fingers touching the side of her ass cheek. You wondered what it would feel like if you slid your hand over her ass and gave a gentle squeeze, but you felt yourself holding your breath and you didn’t dare follow through with that thought. Instead you moved your hand again and went back up her side, stopping when you reached the height of her breasts.

Tentatively, you caressed with a thumb the skin below her left breast, over a rib, and you heard a sharp exhale above you. As much as you wanted to look up at her face to see her reaction, you couldn't. Because your touch caused more goosebumps to appear on her skin, on her breast and around her nipple.

You let your eyes wander over her chest that was right in front of you. Her breasts weren't full or round or perked up. They were on par with a woman of her physique, not small, but not big either, although weighed down by her age and gravity. You could see some faint stretch marks at their sides, a couple hairs just around her areola, a rather big diagonal scar starting over her right breast, where your other hand was now resting, and ending right in the middle of her chest. Finally, your eyes fell to her dark nipples, still looking painfully hardened, and ever so slightly moving with her every breath. You decided that her breasts were just perfect and you had a hard time looking away, or deciding how to proceed.

It must have been a couple of minutes with you just standing there, hands still on her body, before any coherent thought came to your tortured brain and you became aware of your dried mouth. So you licked your lips and tried to swallow, before turning your attention to the hand resting above her right breast, which felt like it was ready to catch fire.

With a feathery touch you glided the tips of your fingers down towards her breast, feeling the softness of it, but stopped right before you touched her raised nipple. Then you used your hand to cup her breast, lifted it up to feel its weight on your palm, gave it a tentative squeeze and you could swear that you heard a sharp inhale above you. But you couldn't look. You only had eyes for what was inches in front of you.

So while cupping her gently, you moved your thumb and dared to slide it over her nipple, right before pressing down on it with a little more force. You saw the frame in front of you expand, a clear sign of her taking a deep breath, and you followed her movement with hungry eyes and a hard swallow. You felt your mouth getting dry once again and the thought of taking that dark nipple into your mouth and sucking at it between your lips crossed your mind. But your nerves got the better of you, maybe you weren't ready for it.

Do whatever feels right.

So instead, your hands left her body, only for you to put them back on her shoulders. Using both hands in a symmetrical motion, you caressed her collarbones before running them up and down her arms, feeling her biceps and the hard muscles underneath. You were thirsty for something and you didn't know how you should proceed, so you looked up, making both of your now dark eyes meet, placed your hands behind Sevika's neck and gave a gentle tug to pull her towards you, a request.

She gladly followed, as she always did, and gave you the kiss you craved. It was slow and soft and reassuring and you pressed a little harder on her neck to hold her there for as long as she would allow. You felt her hands come to your waist, not to move you or bring you closer to her, but just to rest there, a reminder.

After breaking the kiss for some much needed air, you felt her soft raspy voice through the cloud of your mind.

"Can I take this off?" She breathed against your lips and you felt a tug on your shirt.

"Yeah, okay." You breathed out a whisper.

She gave you a quick kiss and pulled back to allow yourselves a little more space to maneuver. She must have been hearing your heart, almost ready to beat out of your chest, because her eyes were glued to yours, searching for any sign of discomfort, as her hands gripped the bottom of your shirt.

She gently pulled it up and you raised your arms to help her get rid of it. Once it was off, leaving you with your bra, she dropped it on the floor next to you, covered the distance she had put between you, cradled your face in her hands and kissed you again. You could only stay in place and close your eyes., trembling hands kept at your sides and following her lead. You would always follow her lead when she was kissing you. Your make-out sessions were evident of that and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You felt her pull away again, you felt her breath hitting your forehead and then you felt the absence of her hands on the sides of your face. Not a second later you jumped when her metal hand was placed on your shoulder and a warm one on your waist.

"Is this okay?" You heard her question.

With your eyes still closed you nodded. And then her hand on your waist began to mimic your own patterns when your positions were reversed a few minutes ago. You would swear it felt like hours had passed. Her feathery touch made you take several deep breaths when she reached your hip bone, letting them out of your mouth through stuttering exhales, and when her thumb caressed the skin below your breast, over a rib, you shuddered and felt goosebumps forming all over your body. And now you understood how she must have felt when you did this to her. Were you really able to make her feel this way? Did you have that power?

With her left metal hand still on your shoulder grounding you, she brought the other one to hook a finger through a loop of your jeans. You still hadn't opened your eyes, so you relied on your senses to feel what was happening around you.

"Can I take this off, too?"

As soon as you realized the implications of her question you felt nervous, excitement cursed through your entire body, your heart rate skyrocketed and you clenched your eyelids even tighter.

"Just the pants for now." She softly added.

You caught in her voice her attempt to reassure you that she would take things slow for you, and you were grateful for her looking out. So you nodded. You would always trust her. With your life, with your heart, and now with your body and your anxious self.

"I got you." She added and you felt her presence slowly disappearing, but not gone, only getting smaller as you realized she was kneeling in front of you.

You felt sure hands on your zipper as it was being pulled down, followed by another slight downwards pull, causing your pants to give way and fall on the floor. You swallowed, mouth dry, and you finally opened your eyes and dared to glance down. You were met with soft eyes and a kind lopsided smile, before Sevika's attention turned to your feet to help you get rid of your pants, where they were now pooling.

When your pants were thrown next to your shirt on the floor, she turned back to you. You couldn't deny the feeling of adrenaline caused by your position. Her kneeling naked in front of you and looking up, you above her, in just your underwear and looking down. Your mind was racing and you could only focus on her dark eyes and the shadow she was casting on her breasts.

You saw it before you felt it. Her right hand slowly reaching towards your calf. You tilted your head to the left to follow its movement and when she finally caressed you, you jumped even though you were expecting it. You could feel her gaze burning a hole into the side of your head, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from that hand. It began moving up and down a short path, from knee to ankle, occasionally stroking you with a thumb, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin, and you were mesmerized.

Suddenly, in your field of vision you saw a dark movement. It was her, more specifically her hair. She was looking straight ahead, and in her kneeling position she was at your thigh level. So her attention was there and she was moving forward, towards you, towards your thigh. You understood her intent and held your breath and clenched your fists, which now you noticed were already clenched and you were pretty sure that if you were to check you would see little indentations of your nails in your palms. So you stood there, unmoving and waiting.

And then her lips made contact with the top of your thigh, a gentle kiss, accompanied by a squeeze of her hand on the back of your calf, and you felt your knees ready to buckle.

"Sevika..." You stuttered out a breath, your voice betraying your desire.

She looked up at you. Her eyes were completely black and her lips were still connected to your skin. Then you saw a little glimmer in her eyes and the beginning of a smirk, and the next moment she opened her mouth, flattened her tongue, pressed down and licked.

"F-fuck." You whispered, feeling your soul leaving your body.

You blinked rapidly, shaking your cloudy head and somehow managed to stay upright as she pulled away and stood up with an amused smile.

"How about you lie down on the bed?"

**********

taglist : @opropheticsoul @archangeldyke-all

Thanks for reading! :)

[flowerandblood]

» The Longing «

[ Aemond ✦ Targaryen x Baratheon! ✦ female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, smut, angst, domination, ass slapping, degardation, possessive behaviour, orgasm denial ]

» The Impossible Choice Special Chapter «

Aemond through his duties as the Hand of the King is unable to keep his promise and accompany his wife on her journey to Storms End. To his disappointment this does not stop her and she and their son leave for what seems to him an infinite amount of time.

This work was created as part of a series The Christmas Drabbles which will consist of ten drabbles taking place after the events of some of my favorite fanfictions. Each of them is concerned with one feeling that dominates the characters at a given moment. This is my little gift to all my fans.

Word counter: 2.400

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

✦✦✦✦✦

When Aegon made it clear to him that because of the troubles with the riots on the streets of King's Landing, he would not be able to leave Dragonstone until things calmed down, he knew his wife would not take this well.

They had tried several times to arrange a date for their trip to Storm's End, however each time his duties as the Hand of the King prevented him from doing so. He had presented her with the King's decision during supper, which they always ate together.

She entertained their son, who was trying with difficulty to babble his first words already, though it was more coming out as strange clusters of syllables. She raised her gaze full of disbelief at him and shook her head.

"I will leave without you, Aemond. I will not explain myself to Royce for the third time. His first-born son was born and I promised him I would come to enjoy it with him. I haven't seen him for six months." She said with a frown, turning her attention to Daeron again, stopping his quick, curious hands from grabbing the bowl that stood close to her.

He felt his jaw clench at her words, his brow expressing frustration at the thought that she was to travel anywhere without him – without her husband.

"It's dangerous." He replied coolly, wanting to show her by his tone of voice and attitude that he didn't like her suggestion.

She knew him enough to know when he was against her ideas.

She sighed heavily, looking at him with obvious impatience, however her voice was calm and composed.

"Appoint someone to travel there with me and Daeron. Even a few guards, if you see fit, I −"

"− with Daeron?" He growled lowly, looking at her in disbelief, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Who will take care of him in my absence? Is he to stay the whole time with only his wet nurse while you are at a council meeting?" She asked, clearly trying to convince him that this was the most sensible solution.

He could not comprehend how the thought that she was to separate him from his first-born son could meet with his approval.

"He's my son." He said lowly, his hand lying on the table in front of him clenched into a fist.

"I know; but his father, through no fault of his own, is unable to keep his promise. His father, and at the same time, as it coincided, my husband, should understand my decision, just as I show understanding towards his." She said firmly, furrowing her brows, without a trace of fear or hesitation in her bright eyes.

He fucked her like crazy that night, rooting his manhood into her weeping folds with deep, sharp, fast thrusts, listening to her moans of despair every time she was close to fulfilment.

He wouldn't let her come, punishing her for wanting to leave him – he allowed her to reach her peak on his pulsing length only after his seed had filled her for the third time, teasing her little bud with his long, nimble fingers, from her throat bursted only his name between her cries of delight.

Feeling the warmth of her body, her scent, her sweet lips pressed against his, his rage completely vanished from him, leaving only a burning desire for her not to leave him, to give him just a little more time to fulfil his promise.

He spent the whole night at the other end of the bed with his back turned to her when she told him that she couldn't let her brother down once again.

He didn't even speak to her when she embraced him, when she told him that she would be back soon, that she loved him.

He thought, embittered and full of pain, that if she really loved him she would never of her own free will have decided to separate from him.

The next day, despite her request, he did not escort her and their son to the carriage. She stood over him as he pretended to read a book, uninterested in her words about how deeply sad she was and that she did not want them to part in anger.

He answered her nothing.

He regretted it as soon as she left, when he went to the window and saw that their carriages, accompanied by an escort, were heading away from Dragonstone to finally disappear. He pressed his lips together and swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in his throat and the pain in his chest.

Two weeks.

They had never been apart for so long before.

Although he tried not to think about it, their absence seemed to create a void in his mind and heart, his chamber suddenly seeming immensely dark and disturbing to him.

At night as he lay in his bed he would wake restlessly, reaching his hand to the side where she always lay, wanting to make sure she was safe – he would open his eyes, terrified, looking at the cold material of his sheets, having to remind himself that she had left, that she was in no danger.

He knew she had a right to do so and that she missed her brother very much, but he still felt forsaken.

Nevertheless, when his servant brought him a letter from her, he took it and immediately began to read, fearing that something might have happened to them.

Her words, however, only expressed her joy at seeing her nephew and that the little boy was in good health – she also informed him that she and Daeron were feeling well, although they missed him very much.

She wrote to him about how she could not sleep at night and that she felt as if she had left a part of her heart somewhere far away.

He felt rage and bitterness reading this, but most of all this immense, overwhelming longing.

He did not write her back.

He did not allow his servants to help himself in the bath, furious that they could not do it in the same order as his wife, did not have her hands or her scent, made him uncomfortable and only reminded him of her absence.

When at last the day of their return came he had felt tense and excited since the morning, his face stony, not expressing any emotion exactly as when they had met for the first time.

He did not come out to meet them when they arrived at the stronghold, he did not greet her when he heard her walk into his chamber even though he immediately felt her scent, his manhood throbbed hard in response, as it always did, with desire.

He relieved himself in her absence by fucking himself with his own hand, cursing and at the same time summoning her in his thoughts.

At last she returned.

He sat bent over his book with his back to her – he heard her soft, warm voice, tired from many hours of travel, heard her hand their son over to his wet nurse, saying that she had fed him an hour ago before the door opened and closed.

They were left alone.

He knew she was standing looking at him from afar, hoping that he would bestow at least one glance on her, that he would say something, but he only pressed his lips together and turned the page, pretending to concentrate on what he was reading.

He heard her quiet footsteps, the distinctive rustling of her gown, and then he felt and saw her soft, small hand touch his arm. He swallowed quietly, straightening up in his seat, feeling his heart pounding hard, feeling that he was completely hard, that the only thing keeping him from throwing himself at her was his own pride.

"Husband." She whispered with pain, with longing, with hope, with relief and joy that they were together again. He felt a squeeze in his throat, his nostrils moved restlessly, his fingers clenched tightly on the book that lay on his lap.

"Will you help me undress?"

He let out a quiet puff as if surprised, for a moment wanting to suggest that she ask her servant to do it, but hesitated.

He pressed his lips together and put his book down on the table, rising with a loud creak of wood. He turned and looked at her, realising at once that he had made a huge mistake.

She was staring at him with those big bright eyes of hers, surrounded by a fan of beautiful long lashes, her dark eyebrows arched in worry, in pain, in fear of his anger and rejection, her cheeks rosy from the cold outside and the warmth of his chamber, her lips slightly parted in a quickened breath, glistening and plump.

His.

She almost screamed when he grabbed her violently by her hair, drawing her to him, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat with his low groan of relief – he sighed quietly as she immediately grasped his cheeks in her frozen hands, her wonderfully puffy lips teasing him with full, passionate, moist kisses.

He decided that she didn't deserve to be taken like his wife, in their bed, tenderly and slowly, so he pulled away from her and turned her suddenly with her back to him, forcing her to lean over the table, pulling up the thick layers of her gown quickly.

"− you don't deserve for me to make love to you as a wife, do you? − a good wife does not abandon her husband −" He hissed with rage and she whimpered loudly when he slapped her buttock with all his strength, leaving a red mark on it from his hand.

"− answer me −" He said coldly, running his thumb over her heat between her thighs, watching with satisfaction as she leaked with arousal, twitching from his every move, her folds puffy and swollen.

"− y-yes, I don't deserve it, husband −" She mumbled with difficulty, giving in, knowing that even if she disagreed with him she couldn't stand up to him now. He hummed with satisfaction at her words.

"− mmm − does a bad wife deserve to experience fulfilment? −" He asked calmly, his thumb beginning to circle around her bud, teasing her, changing the pressure, her buttocks bucked more towards him seeking a source of more intense rubbing.

"− n-no − please − I've missed you so much −" She muttered, clenching her fingers on the cold wooden table top to which she pressed her cheek, her lips parted wonderfully in complete helplessness.

He licked his lower lip at her words, furiously slipping his thumb into her without warning – a startled cry broke from her throat as he began to press and rub her sweet spot, hidden inside her between her muscles, he could feel his hand getting all moist from her moisture.

"− were you touching yourself? −" He hissed warningly, and she swallowed loudly, nodding her head with shame.

He pressed his lips together in rage at the thought that she had done this even though he had clearly forbidden her to do so.

He slipped his finger out of her and again slapped her buttock with all his strength – she sobbed loudly, closing her eyes.

"− my wife has disappointed me greatly −" He said darkly, undoing the buckles of his tunic, reaching down to untie his breeches.

He heard her gasp loudly for air, terrified, as he gripped her hip in his hand and forced her to spread her thighs wider – she squealed when the fat head of his cock began to push against her pulsing, swollen slit.

He rooted into her with one sure thrust, beginning to move inside her immediately with a low, weak groan of pleasure that ripped from his throat – she squeezed him as wonderfully as ever, making him have to clench his eyelids shut, his hands clamped down tightly on her waist as he slammed into her with a loud slaps of flesh against flesh.

"− fucking take it − that's right − ah − that's what you fucking deserve −" He growled as he sped up, pounding into her with aggressive, deep pushes of his hips, each of his movements accompanied by the loud, sticky sound of her wetness running down her thighs.

"− Aemond −" She mewled as if begging him for mercy, for forgiveness, for fulfilment, and he sighed with relief as if only now realising that he was inside her again, that he would fall asleep beside her again, that she was back. They both started panting loudly, her hips responding eagerly to his every thrust.

"− is this what you wanted? − for your husband to fuck you like a servant, like a common whore? −" He hissed out between his thrusts, feeling her walls clenching against him greedily.

She moaned helplessly and nodded her head.

He chuckled under his breath, feeling the heat gathering in his lower abdomen, feeling that he was as close to fulfilment as she was.

"− come for your husband − prove to me that you can be a good wife −" He muttered in between his final, sloppy thrusts, hearing her loud, helpless whimper, her body shaken by a wave of pleasure from which her walls began to squeeze against him lustfully, causing him to reach his peak with a sigh of relief, finally feeling his seed fill her insides.

"− yes − fuck, yes −" He panted, moving inside her for a moment longer with the loud clicks of her moisture, his spend running down her thighs.

He watched their joined bodies with a feeling of wonderful relaxation and fulfilment, placing his hands on the table between her head, leaning slightly just as she tried to catch his breath. He licked his lips, looking down at her beautiful, soft face, all red from exertion.

"I'm afraid this isn't going to be an easy night for you, sweet wife."

✦✦✦✦✦

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

Catch-Up Characters | PDA

Pairing: Slasher Men x f!reader

Notes: I literally cannot control myself, if I don't start doing something for Joel I will explode. I haven't wrote a preference for awhile, but I just realized I never did catch Dennis up on the two I've already posted, so this is for the new characters to my blog!

Characters in this chapter include: Dennis Crim, Joel from Smile, Mike Schmidt, and William Afton.

I will be doing this for one more chapter (the nicknames preference) and then they will all be on the same chapter whenever I post something new. It's always slow with preferences, but you can follow them on my masterlist here!

<>~<>~<>

Dennis Crim 

When it comes to displaying his affection for you, Dennis never has any problems with it; he isn’t too over the top, especially if you were the type to get easily embarrassed at the thought of other people seeing you, but Dennis is sure to make sure any other staring customers who can’t seem to shake your perpetual beauty know that you’re his. He’ll wrap an arm around you and slide his hand into your back pocket, or press a kiss to your head. He typically ignores it; after all, you were all his, so he didn’t care if other people want to stare. Whenever he catches himself getting too annoyed, he simply thinks of all the times you sit on his lap or kiss his face when you wake up with him. 

Joel (Smile)

He himself can sometimes get a little bit embarrassed when it comes to showing off; often times he doesn’t try and purposely make himself the center of attention, however there are a few times he will completely ignore the other people around the two of you and just kiss you. He couldn’t help himself sometimes, you were just so pretty. Whether it be because someone kept eyeing you, or mainly because he just couldn’t help the overwhelming desire to kiss you right there no matter who sees. He will typically have his hand in yours when the two of you are out together, or occasionally Joel will rest his hand on your lower back. 

Mike Schmidt 

To say he cared at all about being seen kissing you was almost an insult; Mike was immensely lucky that you were in his life, let alone that you wanted to run errands and do little things with him. If he wanted to give you a quick kiss, why should he care if there’s people around? Mike isn’t the type to show off or make himself stand out, so he certainly wouldn’t be sticking his tongue into your mouth in public, but he has no problem holding onto you and keeping you close to him while you’re out shopping. 

William Afton 

One way that William is different from the others is that he simply does not give a single fuck if the two of you are in the middle of a crowded restaurant or if you’re in a dark movie theatre. William doesn’t mind groping your ass or kissing you as much as he pleased in the moment. Sometimes you would have to stop him, especially if someone was staring at you; William has no issue pushing his tongue into your mouth or kissing your neck to show anybody else in the area that you’re clearly taken and that they shouldn’t be standing there just staring. 

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller x F!oc

Part One

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

wc: 2.9k

a/n: Thank you for checking out this story! This is by far one of my favorites that I've ever written and I am beyond ecstatic to finally be able to share it with you all. I will be uploading a new part every week, and let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Once again thank you so much!

"What do you think of all this?" My voice is unusually hoarse as I take in the images before me. There have been reports of some sickness going around, mainly in the bigger cities, far enough from here to make us feel safe, for now.

(use this link for geographical reference points)

Upbeat music sounds through the house, bright sunshine beaming through the open windows. The crisp breeze whips in every few seconds, blowing the sheer curtains and cooling the house. It all makes it seem more real that summer is finally here. I lightly bob my head to the beat, enjoying the first day of warmth and excited for our first cookout of the year. I hear a few of the guests in the back yard already, laughing and clinking bottles together.

I turn around and open the freezer door, grabbing the ice tray off the top shelf and breaking up the frozen water inside, so that I can dump the cubes into the glass pitcher sitting on the kitchen counter. The ice clings as it falls to the bottom of the pitcher, and I go to fill it with water to finish the lemonade. With another gust of wind, the smell of grilled burgers floats in, making me all too excited to get back out there.

The doorbell rings out and I quickly turn the water off so that the lemonade doesn't overflow into the sink. I set the pitcher off to the side and dry my hands on the towel laying on the counter. Quickly, I make my way to the door and open it, greeting the next arrivals with a wide smile on my face.

"Thank you guys for coming, please make yourselves at home! I think the burgers are just about done out back." I say and close the door behind them, grabbing a dish from my friend's full hands and placing it on the counter. Her daughter toddles through the house, mumbling about something that's apparently very important to her. I smile softly at the little girl and turn my attention to my friend, who I haven't seen in forever. Her husband quickly finds his way to the back yard with the other guests.

"Sorry we're late, someone did not want to wear shoes today." She breathily laughs, setting down a diaper bag as she watches her daughter walk around the house.

"I understand, shoes are a pain." I joke with her and open the fridge to grab a chilled bottle. I hand the wine cooler to her and she pops the cap, taking a sip. I look at my friend, who I notice looks tired and stressed, more than usual. There are dark circles under her eyes and her hair is haphazardly thrown up into a bun. Her appearance is out of character for her, she's typically always primped and dressed for the occasion.

"Tell me about it. I was half tempted to just let her come barefoot. How's Lucas?" She asks about my son, taking another sip. I turn my head to look out the back door, seeing my son being held by my husband.

"He's loving all the attention out there, that's for sure. How are things going, Lisa? I feel like I haven't seen you since last year." I inquire, casually grabbing the lemonade pitcher and setting it beside the veggie tray I took from her. She sighs,

"Things have been better. John has been working more hours lately. Which is fine, it's just that I feel like I never sleep anymore." She tries to joke, but I can sense the exhaustion in her. Her husband works as a physician at a local hospital, and has been on call for the past two weeks. I offer her a small smile and put a hand on her shoulder,

"You and little miss Amelia are welcome here anytime. Lucas would enjoy the company and I know you'd enjoy the rest. I mean it, I don't mind watching her." I tell her, knowing that she will likely never take me up on the offer. Lisa doesn't like to impose on people, though she wouldn't be imposing at all.

"I appreciate it Noelle, thank you." She nods gratefully. Amelia finds her way to the back door and puts her slobber-covered hands on the glass, mumbling nonsense but making it clear she wants out there with everyone else. I laugh at her silliness and balance the veggie tray in one hand and grab the lemonade in the other.

"I think Amelia wants to get out there. Feel free to just relax, we can watch over her. Enjoy yourself, mama." I say and make my way to the backdoor and expertly open it with my elbow. Amelia squeals and runs out onto the grass with the other kids.

Lisa goes to sit on the couch, taking another drink, and I close the door behind me. I set the veggie tray down on a foldable table where the other side dishes are and place the cold lemonade beside the other beverages. The burgers smell amazing and I can't help but glance over to the grill to see if they're done yet. To my disappointment, they're not ready, so I walk over to my husband Ryan, who has Lucas in his arms.

"Do you want me to take him?" I ask, knowing that even though Lucas is a small kid, he gets quite heavy after a while. Ryan nods and hands him off to me, kissing me on the forehead before he goes to grab a beer out of the cooler. Lucas lays his head on my shoulder and I can tell he's ready for his afternoon nap.

I go back in the house to find Lisa chilling on the couch, her drink empty in hand and her head resting back on the cushion with her eyes closed. Quietly, I make my way to Lucas' room and lay him down in bed. Of course, as soon as he's on the mattress he's starts to throw a fit, because he's so obviously not tired.

"Shhh, it's okay." I soothe him, running a hand through his short hair and tucking a light sheet around him while he curls his tiny little hand around my fingers. He always likes to be holding someone's hand as he falls asleep, I think it must be some sort of security thing for him. And thankfully, he's out in just a few minutes. Skillfully, I wiggle my hand from his grasp and close his door softly, hoping he'll sleep for at least an hour or two.

Lisa is now sitting up on the couch, her elbows resting on her knees as she leans forward, listening intensely to whatever is on. Something on the TV must have caught her attention.

I go to the fridge and grab a drink, wanting to indulge a little since Lucas is down for a nap. The words on the TV pique my interest, and I go to sit beside Lisa, who only glances at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Los Angeles is the latest city to be placed under Martial Law. The number of confirmed deaths has now passed two hundred. And according to a leaked report from the World Health Organization, recent vaccination attempts have failed." The reporter seems uptight and rigid as she speaks. Absentmindedly, I take another sip of my drink, feeling uneasy about what I'm hearing. The upbeat music from the yard starkly contrasts the severity of what's on the television.

The news broadcast switches to a helicopter view of Los Angeles and shows a temporary military camp being set up. Large armored trucks line the streets and soldiers instruct people where they need to go. There's smoke in the air from fires that have been set, and it looks like some foreign, war-torn country.

"What do you think of all this?" My voice is unusually hoarse as I take in the images before me. There have been reports of some sickness going around, mainly in the bigger cities, far enough from here to make us feel safe, for now. But seeing the devastation and panic of those in New York, Detroit, and now Los Angeles is making me more uneasy about the whole thing.

"I don't like it. John says we shouldn't worry about it. Whatever it is, they'll find a cure for it soon. He says he hasn't seen anything come through the hospital yet and that we're okay. But I don't know, I can't help but worry, you understand." Lisa's voice is soft, but serious. She tears her eyes away from the screen and looks to me as she finishes her sentence, and I nod my head.

"I understand. Ryan says the same thing. But we aren't that far from Detroit, really. I mean what, a few hours by car? I told him we should at least stock up on some canned goods, just in case." I say, knowing that we share the same anxiety about this mysterious sickness. The back door slides open quickly,

"Burgers are done!" Ryan's voice calls out into the house, snapping Lisa and I out of our contemplation. I clear my throat and take another drink before standing and offering Lisa my hand. She takes it and I help her up as well, and we both go outside, trying to forget what we just saw on the screen.

We join the others in the back yard and Lisa makes quick work to fix Amelia a plate. I urge others to get a plate before I do, feeling unnerved from the news report. After everyone goes through the line, I grab a plate as well, but can only bring myself to put some fruit on it, and that's just for show.

I join Ryan at the patio table and he's tucking into his burger with all the fixings. I take another drink and try my absolute best to act perfectly normal and unperturbed. Ryan swallows and looks between my plate and my face, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Only fruit?" I nod my head, knowing it's out of my usual to not load up with a burger, chips, and some type of sweet.

"Just not feeling too well." I passively offer as an explanation and take a strawberry into my mouth. He takes another bite of his burger, keeping his eyes on me. I know he can see through my lie, but I know he won't push it in front of people. He puts a hand on my thigh and gives it a squeeze, and I place my hand on top of his.

I take another strawberry and look out into our back yard, seeing Amelia happily nibbling on a bun Lisa gave her. Another little kid sits beside Amelia, Ethan is his name, and he is content with his bowl of chips his mother gave him. Ethan's mother, Rebecca, met Lisa and I at a birthing education group a few years back and we all clicked together instantly. Rebecca's husband, Tim, fit right in with our husbands as well.

Others mill about the yard, associates of Ryan who I don't know very well, but they're friendly enough and I don't mind them. I've never been able to connect with them too well, seeing as there's a sizable age gap between me and the majority of them. Plus, they're all lawyers and I'm a florist, there's not much common ground between the two. Sometimes I wish I had more in common with Ryan's friends, but over time I've accepted that it's okay for us to have differences.

My eyes drift from the people to my flower beds, which are all manicured to perfection. Luckily, all the flowers are vibrant and full, adding more life to the yard it sometimes lacks in the colder months.

After a while, I go about collecting plates and cleaning up the food as the sun begins to disappear behind the horizon. Ryan is entertaining a newly energized Lucas as Lisa and I pack away the leftovers and hunt out the s'mores supplies. No Allen family cookout is complete without s'mores.

I turned the television off as soon as we started bringing things in, not being able to bear the words and images that were sure to be there. If I can just push those thoughts from my mind for another couple hours and make sure people enjoy the cookout, then I can worry about it for the rest of the night after they leave.

Lisa hands me a platter of leftover burgers to put in the fridge and breaks the silence,

"Your flowers are beautiful this year, I really like the tulips you have here." She compliments my fresh pink tulips on the counter. I had picked them this morning before everyone got here so they looked their best. I smile, appreciating the compliment.

"Thank you, I tried to pick the best ones. You can take those with you if you want. I have plenty." I say, motioning to the backyard. It's true, I have an abundance of flowers to choose from, and I want Lisa to have something nice for herself, she deserves it.

"Oh no, I couldn't. You worked hard on those." She dismisses with a wave of her hand, but I give her a stern look.

"Lisa, please take the flowers or I will make sure John takes them." I say, pushing the vase across the counter to her. She knows she's not going to win this argument and concedes, taking the vase in her hands.

"Thank you, Noelle." Her voice is quiet, and I give her a nod.

"Don't mention it. Now let's get these kids full of sugar before bed!" I laugh and hand her some of the s'mores ingredients to take out.

A few of the men had started the fire and have it at a nice height, it should last us long enough to get the s'mores made and for people to say their goodbyes for the night. I hand out the skewers and place the ingredients on the foldable tables, allowing people to help themselves.

Lucas waddles over to me with a marshmallow in his tiny hand, and I smile, knowing he wants me to toast it for him. I grab him in my arms and take his marshmallow, placing it on a skewer before sitting us on a chair close to the fire. Lucas is on my lap as I watch the marshmallow to ensure I don't burn it, but toast it perfectly for him. Lucas is kind of a marshmallow snob, he won't eat one that's been burnt or under-toasted, he only wants the golden-brown ones.

After rotating the marshmallow with patience, I think it's finally good enough for his standards. I grab it off the skewer and blow on it so that he doesn't burn his mouth on the hot sugar. His hands reach towards it, but I lean away to cool it off as much as possible. I can tell he's getting frustrated, and so as soon as I'm sure it's an acceptable temperature, I give it to him. He wastes no time in shoving it in his mouth, a wide, gummy smile on his face with tiny little teeth barely visible.

I watch him lovingly, enjoying seeing him so happy with something so simple. As Lucas finishes his marshmallow, some people begin filtering out for the night. I wave goodbye to them and take Lucas inside to clean him up before bed. His hands and face are sticky with marshmallow fluff, and the last thing I want is for him to touch everything in his reach and get everything coated in stickiness.

I set him up on the counter beside the sink and grab a fresh rag, wetting it lightly so I can get the gross off of him. Rebecca, Tim, and Ethan are the next ones to leave, and I wish them a safe drive home, and thank them once more for coming. Lisa, John, and Amelia are the last ones to leave, and I make sure Lisa takes the tulips with her despite her protests.

After Lucas is cleaned up and Ryan has tidied the back yard, I'm ready for bed. My eyelids are heavy with sleep, and I can't wait to get underneath my warm covers. Lucas fights his bedtime as per usual, but finally lays down for me after minutes of whining.

I close his door and turn off the main lights in the house and ensure the night lights are on, just in case Lucas gets up in the night and needs to get to our room. I rub my eyes as I enter my bedroom and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine. Ryan is already in bed, flipping through channels to find something.

I rush through my routine and get underneath the covers, sighing with relief as I feel my spine decompress from the day. Rolling over into Ryan's side, I rest my head on his shoulder and look at the television screen. Immediately, I'm displeased with what I see. A bold headline is front and center and it reads 'Death Toll Rises, When Will This End?'. Luckily the TV is on mute so I can't hear what the news reporter is saying.

"I think we need to stock up on things tomorrow. I don't like how this is looking." I say, standing my ground this time. Ryan can believe whatever he wants about this sickness, but I won't risk Lucas going without food or any necessity if things get bad.

"First thing in the morning we can go." Ryan's voice is raspy, and he turns the TV off, not bothering to watch anything else. He adjusts his position and pulls me into him, kissing me goodnight before he rolls over to turn off his bedside lamp.

I cuddle into his side, enjoying the safety I feel in his arms and close my eyes, ready to fall asleep. As I feel myself drifting off, I hear muffled sirens in the distance.

Part Two

[f-imaginings]

Hi! First of all, I hope you're recovering <3

Anyway, I was re-reading Book of Bill and the Billford parts (if we can call them that) and damn. All the conversations they have in the book are so… KMKY to me, I mean, I'm amazed at how you've studied and understood the characters so well that now, when the creator thinks about how their dynamic would be, it's IDENTICAL to KMKY. I can easily see those scenes as a KMKY scene and I'm in shock.

Just, congratulations on the writing, seriously, you're an inspiration to me in writing and character study!

Hi lovely,

Thank you for the kind words! I'm all done at the hospital and I'm cheering! Nothing was wrong and it looks like I'm healthy for the most part BC the treatment is working well ☺️

Omg no one was more surprised than me reading the book of bill about their dynamic. Especially their banter! You can call me anything just don't call me late for dinner and get out of my head, you first! were some of the highlight reels for me. It was just such a fun book to read and I'm so grateful it reignited my passion for writing so I can come back and finish the fic!

I've had ideas for spin offs and sequels too since getting such lovely feedback on the fic. I have plans and ideas for characterisation that hopefully are fairly unique (I haven't seen some of these ideas done before) and I'm cheering that folks have been enjoying what I put out so far.

I have always cherished the positive feedback ppl have given to the fic (I reread comments like non stop) but to have gone from getting maybe 1 comment a month to all of this attention has been wild. I think ppl assume this was always a popular fic but it had a lot of silent readers. I had the same four or five ppl tell me they vibed with it but they were the cherished few. Now however I've had folks actually tell me that they're reading and what parts they're enjoying and its given me boundless energy to work on chapters and put in 100% so I'm doing right by y'all and giving you my best work. I really appreciate folks like yourself telling me what you like about it so thank you for writing in to let me know. 💛💛💛

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 5

Summary: It is finally time for the senator to give her speech to the senator. And Echo tells Hunter about what he had seen. Now Hunter needs to confront the senator and figure out why they haven't been transferred yet.

Warning: assassination attempt, various weapons used, sniper/shooter mentioned, characters getting shot at, mutual pining, mild argument, kissing (finally), +18 very suggestive content at the end

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 6.0k

Series Masterlist

Now, two days later, the hired hitman had received his orders from his employer. The blaster wound in his shoulder was healed, but there was a nasty scar that remained in its place. He packed his weapon away in a case, taking it with him as he left the abandoned building he'd been stationed in.

Checking the coordinates, he began to make his way there without drawing too much attention. He took back alleys, hidden passages, and stayed out of the eyes of others. The Count's words rang in his mind from earlier: "The speech takes place in the Senate Building at 2:00pm. Do not let her get there."

Just like the Count had ordered, the skilled shooter made sure to keep a low profile and learn more about them. He remained hidden in the crowds, watching their every move without them knowing. After a week, he figured out the exact route they'd take to get from her apartment to the senate building. And relaying this information to his employer meant that they worked together to find the perfect place to take the shot.

Arriving at the building, the assassin began climbing the long staircase until he reached one of the top floors. He walked towards one of the windows, peeking through the glass to watch the busy airspeeders driving below and diagonally from him. Satisfied with his position, he chose to assemble his rifle and wait for the moment to strike.

Back at the apartment, Hunter stood impatiently outside the senator's bedroom door. His arms were crossed over his chest and his foot tapped the floor in a steady beat. He glanced back at his brothers who had never looked more bored in their lives.

"Tech," Hunter's sultry and low voice sounded. "Give me the time."

He didn't look up from his data pad. "It is approximately 1:46pm. And it has only been two minutes since the last time you asked me."

"Ugh," Wrecker groaned. He proceeded to throw his hands up in exaggeration. "What's taking her so long?"

"She trying to look nice for her sergeant," Crosshair sneered. He threw a glare to his older brother, already knowing that his comment would strike a cord with him.

Hunter, always being the more level headed of the two, ignored his comment. He redirected his attention to the solid wood door in front of him. But he clenched his fists at his sides.

"She's gonna miss her time slot if she waits any longer," Echo noted while peering over Tech's shoulder to look at the time.

Finally, Hunter raised his fist to the door and knocked harshly against it. He called her name through the door in hopes of urging her to finish getting ready quicker. This was probably the thirtieth time he'd knocked.

"I'm not ready yet!" Her voice was muffled through the door, which meant she was probably on the other side of the room. She fixed her hair in the mirror and smoothed her hands over her dress.

"Well, you need to be ready now. We should have left ten minutes ago," Hunter called back. He stared down at the door handle.

"Fifteen," Tech corrected with a raised finger. "If you calculate the traffic."

"These things take time," Y/n answered. She moved a few strands of hair to her liking. She looked herself over one last time. "I don't like to be rushed."

"If you need help to...speed up the process, I am offering my assistance," Hunter was trying everything to get her out of the room. He only received a long pause of silence. He went to knock again, but the door swung open before contact.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She teased him.

The others were at a complete loss of words for what stood before them. They shamelessly took in her appearance by allowing their eyes to travel down her body. She really was something else.

The senator was wearing a floor-length dark blue dress that matched the color of the midnight sky. Her hair was styled into curls, flowing over her shoulders. There were small silver stars and crescent moons pinning her baby hairs back.

The sergeant was the first to realize how long he'd been staring. He tried to form words, but they fell short in the process. Standing right in front of him was by far the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. No, he thought to himself. She was beyond beautiful; she was simply magnificent.

"You...look...," Hunter began. The lavender perfume flooded his senses, which made his brain fuzzy. His gaze continued to linger, drinking it all in greedily. "Heavenly," Hunter breathed softly.

That word was not what she was expecting in the slightest. It didn't make her any less flattered though. The corners of her lips lifting into a soft smile with a pink tint coloring her cheeks. She tried to avert her gaze because she just couldn't bare looking at him any longer without blushing profusely.

"Thank you," Y/n replied sheepishly.

When he first saw her, Hunter felt all of his thoughts fly out of his head. He didn't know why they were so persistent to leave; finding it all irrelevant now. He chose to live in the moment which consisted of her and her alone.

Slowly, Hunter used his hand to gesture to the door behind them as if inviting her to go ahead of him. As she brushed past him, Hunter shifted his hand to hover by her lower back. They began to walk towards the door; the others moved to lead them out. With his brothers walking ahead of them, Hunter found himself placing his hand on the small of her back in a gentle manner.

The Bad Batch clambered into the small airspeeder on the edge of the landing platform. There was a driver at the wheel who had been waiting for their arrival. He was instructed to bring them to the Senate Building. And there was a small emphasis on their need to get their quickly.

Starting the airspeeder, the driver began to navigate through the busy lanes in the city. A few other airspeeders passed by them, flying through the air at such a rapid pace. Their airspeeder turned down another path, steadily making their way to their final destination.

In the nearby building, the hitman had kept his scope locked on the passing speeders. He knew that they'd be coming at any second; he only had one shot at this. With one eye closed, he peered through the narrow scope and moved his sniper steadily to search the speeders moving by.

Finally, the skilled shooter's eyes landed on a familiar-looking grey airspeeder heading in the opposite direction of him. He recognized the dark grey clone armor in a second. He quickly adjusted his weapon to take the shot.

"He's gonna try something tomorrow," Hunter told his brothers the day before. They had gathered in the senator's office to discuss tactics for the day of the speech. "He's been waiting for the right moment."

"But how are we going to stop him? He could be anywhere," Echo claimed. He tried thinking of all the places it could go down.

"He wouldn't do anything in the Senate," Tech explained. He ruled that much out. "Too many witnesses and too much security already.

"He could take his shot as we leave the building," Crosshair observed. If he was in the shooter's shoes, that's where he would strike.

"Or he could take his shot as we were moving," Hunter suggested this option. His arms were crossed, but he still shrugged his shoulders.

"That's a pretty tricky shot," Wrecker noted. "Moving objects ain't easy."

"Might not be easy, but it's not impossible." Crosshair corrected. They seemed to think about their options for a brief moment, attempting to reach some kind of game plan.

"So what are we going to do?" Echo questioned. He looked towards his sergeant for the answer.

"I think I have an idea."

While riding in the airspeeder, the other squad members attempted to glance at the sergeant through the corner of their eyes. The mission was put into his hands. They relieved heavily on his senses, because with a few tweaks, Tech had managed to adjust Hunter's helmet filter.

It was originally designed to numb his senses so he wouldn't be so overwhelmed. However, it was now changed to only pick up the smallest sounds. He wasn't able to hear the others talking or even the other airspeeders zooming past them. He focused heavily in order to hear the sound of subtle movement.

Then Hunter heard it: The sound of a rifle being cocked.

"Now!" Hunter signaled them.

The shooter's finger rested against the curve of the trigger, lining up his shot so he wouldn't miss. He squeezed the trigger to fire his shot, watching the red blast come shooting out of the rifle.

Just in time, Hunter had managed to push the senator into a crouching position on the floor of the speeder. He moved his head slightly to the right, barely missing the blaster shot that was aimed at her. Yanking his blaster out of his holster, he didn't hesitate to raise it and fire a few shots in the general direction.

The Bad Batch had been fully prepared for the attack. They quickly turned around in their place as well and fired their own shots rapidly. The shooter ducked down behind the window ledge just as a few shots whizzed past the window. He covered his head and cursed under his breath.

Meanwhile, Crosshair was using his long rifle to fire another round. His shots had gotten the closest. While Wrecker was most certainly firing the fastest, Tech was trying to take more calculated shots. Then Hunter and Echo were firing almost simultaneously, naturally in sync with one another. But none of their shots hit a target.

Having seen the shooter disappear from the perch, Hunter raised his fist to signal the others to seize fire. The shooting stopped instantly. He waited patiently with the expectation that the shooter would try again, but he never reappeared in the window. The airspeeder continued on the designated route, heading in the direction of the senate.

"Are you alright, senator?" Echo asked. He couched down beside her, offering his hand for her to take. He eased her back into the seat.

"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him. She glanced up at the sergeant before giving him a firm nod of the head. "Thanks again."

Though Hunter's filtration was still activated, he knew exactly what she said regardless of the fact he couldn't hear her. He sent her a nod back. He redirected his attention back towards the empty window, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at it.

"Was your mission successful?" Count Dooku questioned over the communication link that the assassin held in his hands. There was a long beat of stillness.

"She...she was highly protected. I-I couldn't get a clean shot," the man explained. His continuous failed attempts only caused the Sith Lord more frustration. And this was evident in his silence alone. "Give me one more chance," he begged.

"I grow tired of your excuses," Count Dooku interrupted. His voice grew deeper and darker. "I am coming to Coruscant. Do not let her make it to the vote. If you fail to finish the job, then I will end you."

"I understand, Count."

The small escort tried to navigate through the senate building as fast as they could with what little time remained until their window. They had rounded the corner of another corridor, spotting the entrance to the repulsorpod in the senate room. The senator's assistant was standing by the door.

"You're late," the droid announced.

The senator approached the entrance, ignoring the comment with a roll of the eyes. She stepped into the repulsorpod and activated it so it began hovering over to it's designated place amongst other senate members.

The Bad Batch watched the repulsorpod from a distance. The announcement of the senator's arrival sounded from the chancellor who was situated in the middle of the room. With that, Senator Rayna gathered herself and started her speech that she worked so hard on.

Despite being a little out-of-touch with politics, Hunter wanted nothing more than to listen to the senator's speech. He saw that politics was her drive; the thing that got her excited when brought into a conversation. Her speaking came with such passion which indicated how deeply her heart felt for it.

His eyes shimmered behind the visor of his helmet, scanning the way her hands moved as she spoke with emphasis. He admired the softness of her voice, feeling himself falling into a transfixed trance. He didn't necessarily understand what she was saying, but he truly didn't care.

"Uh Hunter?" Echo cleared his throat to get the sergeant's attention.

"What is it, Echo?" Hunter let out a loud sigh since he was taken out of his trance.

"I need to talk to you about something," Echo claimed. Naturally, Hunter turned to face him only to present him with a skeptical look. "It's about the senator," Echo reassured him.

Quickly glancing back at the senator, Hunter contemplated walking away to address his trooper's concern or option the stay in order to listen to the rest of her speech. Although, granted, whatever he did have to say about the senator could be a threat. So Hunter hesitantly walked away from the entrance with Echo trailing behind him.

"What's wrong?" Hunter asked. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I wanted to make you aware of something. Something that I saw the other night when I was on patrol," Echo began. He thought about his next words carefully. "Something I shouldn't have seen," Echo said truthfully.

The sergeant's hands dropped back down to his sides upon sensing the uncertainty radiating from his brother. He saw the conflict behind his eyes and how he couldn't even look him in the eyes. He could only imagine what he was about to say, but he thought of every possible situation.

"Go on," Hunter encouraged.

"Some paperwork was delivered late at night," Echo started the story.

It was in that moment that Hunter realized the situation might not be as severely troubling as he had initially thought. His shoulders slumped down and he released the breath he didn't know he had been holding back.

"I just got a brief glance at the paper on the top of the stack, but it was from the guard."

"What did it say?" Hunter inquired.

"It was a request form--an application," Echo corrected. "It seems The Coruscant Guard sent the form to let her know that there are now available troopers. Should she apply and request them."

"Which means..." Hunter now made the connection.

"We might be receiving new orders any day now," Echo finished for him.

"Our transfer out of Coruscant," Hunter sighed reluctantly. The sadness that came through his voice did not go unnoticed. His gaze lowered to the ground.

For some reason, Hunter's mind drifted away to the words of warning that his youngest brother gave him many weeks ago. Don't get too attached. He clenched his fists at his sides, knowing in the back of his mind that he should have heeded that warning. But at the time, Hunter didn't want to listen to him.

"What should we do?" Echo wondered, which pulled Hunter out of his own thoughts.

"Nothing we can do," Hunter shrugged though it pained him to admit. "Except wait for our transfer papers to come in."

"Should we tell her?"

"Let's keep it between us for now," Hunter ordered calmly. Echo nodded his head understandingly. He glanced back at the senator who was still deep in her speech. "She'll tell us in her own time."

The only problem was that the senator never brought it up. This made Hunter and Echo extremely confused since they figured she would have probably broken the news to them all at some point. She least she could do was give them a heads up that they'd be transferred out sooner than later. Even if Hunter and Echo already knew about the application form that she was given.

It wasn't until six days following her big speech when Hunter decided to come out and confront her. The whole crew had just made their way into the senate building and where heading upstairs.

The day of the vote was scheduled to happen tomorrow. The Senator of Courscant was already feeling quite anxious given the amount of time and effort she put into her speech. Besides making her speech, Senator Rayna had also met with many other senators in hopes of convincing them to support her cause. She only had to wait one more day.

Just as the senator was about to head into the senate room, Hunter managed to get her attention by grabbing her forearm. He stopped her from going in. She whipped her head around to face him with a slight hint of shock in her expression.

"We need to talk," Hunter spoke through the ventilator of his helmet. He kept his voice low so the others couldn't hear him.

"Can't this wait?" Y/n wondered.

"When were you planning to tell us about the transfer?" Hunter ignored her comment, having grown impatient with her inability to bring the subject up to them.

The senator furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What transfer?"

"Y-You..." Hunter's voice seemed to fade. He studied her features only to find confusion written all over them. His grip on her arm faltered slightly. "You mean you didn't fill out the form?"

The senator felt her heart drop in her chest. She now put the pieces together, coming to the conclusion that he must have found out about the form that was given to her from the capital's guard. The pang of guilt forming deeper and more painful.

"Listen Hunter," the senator tried to come up with some kind of excuse. She avoided his gaze. "Can we talk about this later?"

Now, the senator knew that the needed to be in the right mindset to explain herself to him. Not only that, but she'd also need the time to talk with him, which was something she wasn't able to spare him. Finally, Y/n was able to lift her gaze to meet his.

"Please," Y/n whispered softly with pleading eyes.

And Hunter couldn't say no. His fingers relaxed against her forearm, slipping down the length of her arm. This action only brought a shiver to run down her spine. Her eyelashes fluttered up at him. His hand took hold of her gently, giving it a gentle squeeze as if to communicate understanding.

With great hesitation, Senator Rayna began walking towards the entrance of the senate room. The other senators were waiting for her and preparing for the start of the session. She glanced over her shoulder to steal a glance at her sergeant one last time.

Upon returning to the senator's place of living, Hunter opened the door for her to enter. She walked into the room without sparing him a glance. Just as the other members went to walk in, Hunter stopped them by raising his hand. Each of them looked at their sergeant with a hint of confusions behind their features.

"I need to speak with the senator privately," Hunter told them. He quickly glanced at Echo who was the only one that knew about the conversation that was about to take place. "Give us a couple minutes," Hunter asked.

"Fine," Wrecker threw his hands up in defeat. "Just don't take too long."

"I'll...try to keep it short," Hunter promised.

With some hesitation, the Bad Batch began to make their way further down the hallway. They figured that they'd be able to find something to occupy themselves for a couple minutes. They sent a glance towards the sergeant as they passed by before he closed the door in front of them.

Finally, Hunter stood still for the first time that day. His hand lingered on the handle of the door, wondering if it would be best just to leave with the rest of them. He could feel her gaze bearing into the back of his head. He gathered the needed courage to turn and address her.

"Care to explain yourself?" Hunter started. He folded his arms across his chest to keep a strict demeanor.

"Before that," Y/n interjected. "I want to know how you found out. Did you go through my things?"

"What? No," Hunter denied. "Echo told me."

Closing her eyes, Senator Rayna only cursed under her breath. She hadn't thought about that beforehand. The form was the first piece of paper on the stack. Echo didn't do anything wrong. He was simply the deliverer. She refused to be mad at him for looking at something innocently.

"Right," Y/n said understandingly. "That adds up."

"Let me get some things straight: The Coruscant Guard sends you an application form to your apartment last week," Hunter listed off.

"That's right," Y/n spoke truthfully.

"This application form is the first step in granting you a new escort," Hunter added.

"Mhmm," Y/n gave a nod.

"Which ultimately means that my squad would be transferred out of your command," Hunter came to this conclusion clearly.

"...yes," Y/n breathed quietly.

There was a beat of silence between them. Despite the fact that the senator had cleared things up for the sergeant, he was still left in a state of utter confusion. He looked at her with a blank stare on his face.

"So why the hell haven't you taken the time to even fill it out?" Hunter fought back with a hint of venom in his tone. This sudden outburst only caused the senator to furrow her eyebrows at him.

"You don't think I've been a bit preoccupied with other things?" Y/n threw back at him.

"Oh please. Don't lie to me," Hunter scoffed at this excuse. His arms fell back down to his sides. "You've had all week to fill it out."

"Fine," Y/n waved her hands in dismissal. "You're right. That's not the reason why I didn't fill it out."

"What's the reason then?" Hunter demanded.

The senator tried to gather her thoughts and feelings. She avoided his gaze, but still felt the pressure to answer his question. Struggling to find an excuse, Y/n wasn't able to find the right words.

"I...I-I didn't want to," Y/n confessed quietly. Her eyes drifted up to meet his gaze, filled to the brim with tears that threatened to escape. "Not if it meant you'd be transferred."

"I don't understand," Hunter took a step forward. "What do you want?"

This decision didn't benefit anyone. It kept a batch of good soldiers away from the front lines, which was the best place for them to be. It also kept the senator from receiving the needed help from guards who were purposefully stationed on her planet and who were assigned to protect her.

And Hunter saw this. He still didn't understand her reasoning behind her actions, why she hadn't filled out the form to request a new escort and begin the process of getting them transferred back to the war front.

"What do you want?" Hunter repeated a little more louder this time. He took another step towards her.

"I-I want you," Y/n's voice quivered. She felt a tear roll down the side of her cheek as she spoke with the utmost sense of honesty.

In that exact moment, Hunter's strong nature seemed to dissolve upon hearing those words. His shoulders deflated slightly at his sides and his face fell into a blank stare. It felt like his brain had malfunctioned because he wasn't able to form a complete thought with that information.

"I want you," Y/n spoke once again. "Just you."

Her name came tumbling off his lips. He lowered his gaze to stare down at the floor, feeling the strong sense of conflict in the depths of his heart. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to fight the urge to cave in.

Seeing her current state only broke his heart even further. The tears were now cascading down the sides of her face evenly. Her bottom lip was quivering unsteadily. The tip of her nose had grown red from her crying. Her hands shook since her nerves had taken over.

"You...you can't have me," Hunter told her steadily. "You know that."

"I-I know," Y/n nodded her head understandingly. She tore her gaze away from him. "You were the person who told me that it's good to have dreams."

He was her dream just as much as she was his own dream.

"I'm a soldier, Y/n. Meant to serve in the army," Hunter corrected her. He couldn't be her dream. "I wasn't made for...whatever you want this to be between us."

"I don't want much," Y/n tried to reassure him with a small shake of her head. She took the last step forward until they were standing with their chests pressed together. "I know that a relationship is almost impossible for a sergeant and a senator."

"Then...what do you want?" Hunter breathed out for the last time. His eyes mindlessly drifted down to her lips, lingering there for a brief moment. "If we can't have a relationship, what can I offer you?"

Slowly, the senator raised her hand to rest against the plate of his armor. Her hand began drifting upwards until it reached his shoulder. She moved it to the side of his cheek, cupping it softly in her grasp.

"Just you. For this one moment," Y/n pleaded with him.

It all seemed to make sense now. The reason why she didn't fill out the form immediately was because she wanted them to stay a little longer. Though it was selfish of her (and she admitted that) and it would keep them from the war, the senator confessed that she never felt more safe than when she was in the presence of his squad.

Their lips seemed to chase one another's movements. Even though their lips never fully connected, they grazed against one another a few times. The temptation to fall into each other was growing with each second.

The sergeant's hands found a place to perch on the sides of her hips. He held her steadily in her grasp, swaying every so slightly with her. Her hands slid away from his face, falling flat on his chest plate. She gazed up at him with anticipating eyes. He leaned his head forward until their foreheads rested against one another's.

They both felt the internal conflict. They already failed miserably in regards to not falling in love with one another. The risk of exposure would also be detrimental to both of their occupations. Should they chose to act on their emotions, who could tell what would happen?

Finally, Hunter's hand drifted up to cup the place between her neck and jaw. He held her face steadily in his grasp. Once again, Hunter felt his heart screaming 'yes' and his mind was pleading 'no.'

Eventually, Hunter caved into his own selfish desires. He tipped his head to the side and leaned forward in his place, permitting his lips to press against her own. He felt the way she leaned into his touch and he heard how fast her heart was beating.

Their lips moved against one another's in a gentle melody. His arms wrapped around her backside, bringing her as close to his body as humanly possible. His hand snaked up her back to cradle the back of her head. He had never imagined how soft her lips were.

With a shuddering breath, Y/n's lips parted slightly which allowed him to swipe his tongue against her bottom lip. Their mouths chased one another's so desperately, exploring every possible inch like it would be their last time.

Finally, Hunter and Y/n were able to pull away from one another to regain their lost breath. They gazed at one another with half-lidded eyes. The two of them basked in the comfortable silence, feeling the sudden sense of relief for finally getting past that hurdle of hiding emotions.

Before they knew what was happening, they had been able to find one another's lips once again. They kept sealed in a tight kiss since they wanted to savor this time together as much as possible.

His insistent mouth was parting her shaking lips, sending wild tremors down her spine, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. He swallowed her soft moans, thinking they tasted so sweet on his tongue.

It was the kind of kiss that stole one's breath away and caused your heart to skip a couple beats. This was one of those kisses that were so filled with built up emotion that they didn't seem to care about anything else. And it was a kiss that could easily become desperate and escalate quickly if they weren't careful.

And that's exactly what happened. It became desperate.

CHAPTER SIX HERE

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THE NEXT CHAPTER IS GONNA BE JUST PURE SPICE AND SMUT! THERE WILL BE A WARNING AT THE BEGINNING

[heygerald]

Falling Without a Harness - Chapter 11

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. Tom Ryder is rich. Everyone knows that. When Tom decides to do something out of character, Parker has to decide what is just the habits of someone careless with their fortune, and what can be considered acts of service from someone that cares about her.

Read the story here: prev / ...

The studio set after hours was a strange place to find oneself. It was beautiful in that glamorous way that everything mundane in Hollywood was; twinkling lights strung between ugly studio buildings, extras dressed in 1800s regalia tapping on their phones as they awaited whatever scene they were in, the black blanket of the endless LA sky an empty backdrop to the megaphones and spotlights being lugged around.

It was exciting, and it was also not; there was a lot of movement but not a whole lot of doing that translated to a mute static hanging in the air.

"Is it always like this?" Parker asked from her spot in the back end of Dan's pick-up truck. It had been packed with all sorts of bits and bobs that she had never seen before, and as Jody exchanged the batteries in a flashlight, Parker prodded curiously at a baseball sized dent in one of the various helmets stacked behind her. "Not stunt work, I mean. The set in general. I figure Dan probably goes through three helmets a week."

Jody hummed, flicking the flashlight on then off before setting it aside as a warbled voice crackled across the radio on her belt. She tilted her head to listen for a brief moment before turning back to Parker.

"Studio sets are always busy. Haven't you been here before?"

"Sure, but... during normal hours," Parker noted with a glance towards the sky. "But it's almost midnight, and the parking lot was pretty full when I got here at ten."

Jody hummed flippantly, shrugging as she switched her radio to a different channel. More warbled conversation flowed for a few minutes before she decided that there was nothing important enough to require her attention.

Snapping it back onto her belt, the camerawoman kicked her feet back and forth with a delicate smile curving her lips. "Well, I suppose there's always something to be filmed. It's not just us filming on the lot, you know. We share space with a dozen other directors at any given moment. Sometimes, you're filming night scenes. Sometimes you just want to get work in when less people are around. It's just how it is."

Parker supposed that made sense. Afterall, she preferred to go grocery shopping late at night for the very purpose of having less people to avoid in the aisles.

Still.

It was odd to see a set full of life in the middle of the night. Odder still when a pair of actors drifted by on a golf cart; the pair were dressed in ragged clothes, with fake bruises painted along their cheeks, and red cuts oozing fake blood down their forearms. No one but Parker even seemed to register their presence before they disappeared down a nearby alley.

"I think this is way more fun than coming during the day," she decided a moment later. "And I'm not just saying that because I didn't have to argue with the security guards to get in."

Jody snickered. "They're actually very nice."

"To everyone but me, apparently."

"You never have a good reason to be on set, though, do you?" the Brit teased with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Parker faked offense, and Jody's hair came loose from behind her ears as she laughed. "Kidding. I'm very glad to have someone keep me company tonight while Colt's training. Although I am surprised you had time to come by at all. Colt says you've been busy lately."

"Busy-er than before. But ten times zero is still zero, you know?"

"Oh, please," Jody rolled her eyes, flashlight toggle flickering mindlessly in her hands as she tried to stave off boredom. Honestly, Parker didn't know how she managed not to fall asleep with so little to do this late at night. She was yawning and she hadn't been here since the early morning like Jody had. "Your store is splendid. You've always had clients. Now, apparently, you just have more. Busy is still busy."

"Splendid?" Parker echoed, teasing the word in a mock British accent. She quite liked it; both the sound and the funky way she had to work her tongue. "No one has ever called my store splendid before, but you're right. It is a splendid store. Andy R from Angie's List can suck it."

"He left a bad review?"

Parker waved a hand at Jody. "He comes in once a month to ask if I have any new Tolstoy books in, and when I remind him that Tolstoy died a couple hundred years back, he thinks I'm being emotional and sassy. Asshole."

"Prick," Jody said in her very real British accent.

Parker liked that too. "Andy R is a total prick. Maybe that's the tagline that I'll put on my t-shirts. Or, a few, anyways. I'd bet Melissa would be happy to wear one with me. She does not like that dude."

"You're finally getting shirts?"

"Finally."

"See?" Jody gestured to her. "You are busy."

Parker rolled her eyes with a smile. It was endearing how much Jody cared about the success of her store—always inquiring about how sales are going, and dropping by when she has some time to pick up a new book—but they were surface level compliments at best. Her store wasn't going to beat out Barnes & Nobles for awards anytime soon.

She'd be lucky to finally have her shop registering on Google Maps as a business and not as just a big question mark like it currently was.

"Not for customers to buy, anyway. I just think it's about time I got my store name on a t-shirt. Everybody has t-shirts. I mean, literally everybody. Have you ever been to a thrift store? I have found some weird stuff in the dollar bin."

Jody tipped her head back in laughter. "I have seen some odd shirts. Mostly, though, they're shirts that you are wearing."

She shrugged. "What can I say? I love a good thrift store bargain. And a gimmick. And—well, anything to do with my store. All the more reason to start printing my own shirts. I can finally rep the place, you know? Plus, I am busier now. I might even be able to print a dozen tees without going bankrupt by the end of the calendar year."

Jody peered at Parker sideways, soda bottle in hand as she swished the lash few sips around in circles. "So, things are going well, then."

Parker tilted her head left and right. Things certainly were going better, but that didn't mean she wasn't still drowning in bills and ridiculous requests from customers that were absolutely not 'always right'. Even with the increase in revenue and constant presence of teenage girls from the local high school, she was stuck spending most of her day putting out fires. She could feel herself stretching thin lately with all the extra hours her and Melissa were putting in, and at some point over the last year she had gone completely nose blind to the musty smell of her store. Not to mention the fact that she was also fairly sure that the Bath and Body Works' plug-ins spread around her store were going to give her cancer one day (if the crusty moms were to be believed). But it wasn't the time nor the place to drop all of those fears onto Jody's lap; not to mention way too late to use the braincells needed to verbalize those thoughts.

So, Parker elected to ignore all of that. Instead, she waggled her brows with a grin. "Does that mean you'll buy a shirt?"

Jody shook her head, snorting. "You really are Colt's sister."

"Well, I'd hope so," she sniffed. "The orphan-in-a-box story always seemed a little too stupid to be true. As if someone would ever give this up," she tacked on, gesturing to herself with an impish smile.

The look was betrayed by her over-sized sweatshirt and messy braids. Not to mention the tattered jeans and filthy sneakers on her feet. But if Jody was laughing at her, she didn't say, and so the two women giggled at their inside joke whilst the set continued to spur to life around them.

An actress dressed in a delicate silk dress and high heels strutted past as they laughed; her hair was done up in perfect Hollywood glamor, sparkly highlighter on her cheekbones and a delicate pink eyeshadow painting her lids. With the fur slung over her shoulders, she looked like she had just hopped out of a Marilyn Monroe biopic, and when she tossed her hair, it looked like—well—a movie. It took Parker a moment to calm down from her laughter to recognize the actress from a popular CW tv show, and as she strolled past, she couldn't help but crack her neck to get a better look.

When she turned back to Jody, the camerawoman hadn't even seemed to notice.

"This is crazy," she said, tucking her legs up underneath her as she fiddled with the straps on Dan's busted helmet. The actress was gone now, and Parker tried to shake the bizarre feeling of being stuck in The Twilight Zone from her mind. "I know you work in the film industry, but, honestly... It must be so much fun doing this sort of thing all the time."

Jody snorted. "Sure," she echoed. "Fun."

"Isn't it?"

"I mean... alright, yes, of course it is fun. It's amazing to be behind the scenes, to see how movies are made, to know how much work goes into a three minute scene without any dialogue. I mean—I'm always learning new things, so it's certainly not boring," she said. But Parker felt like there was going to be more to her answer, and so she tilted her head in interest, prompting Jody to continue. "But... a typical nine to five certainly wouldn't hurt sometimes. Times like these, when we're stuck here until god knows when just so the director can perfect a shadow in one of the scenes or something else as miniscule... well, it can certainly test your patience."

Parker glanced in the director's direction, taking note of the two assistants that trailed after him with thick binders full of colorful notes, pens tucked haphazardly about their persons. "It's not always like this though. Right?"

Jody shook her head. "No, no. Of course not. Usually our shifts are much more normal. Even if the hours vary, they usually schedule morning scenes together, evening scenes together—you know. So it's not so tedious. And we're almost never here this late just for blocking. Sadowitz is on a tighter schedule for a few things since the New York scenes have to be shot by the first of the month. He's just getting in as many last minute rehearsals as possible so when they go to New York everything is set to go right away. Understandable, of course... I just wish he wasn't such a perfectionist sometimes."

Jacob Sadowitz was the up-and-coming director leading this sci-fi film, and though he wasn't that much older than Parker, he had already earned himself a fair share of accolades for his daring action films. Particularly, the box office had been impressed with his intricate fight scenes and stunt work in his latest movies. Just last year some veteran journalist had printed an in-depth essay commending Sadowitz' dedication to the craft, touching on how much research he put into his work to make sure everything was as accurate as possible. Based on his credentials alone it was no surprise that he would be working his stunt crew till the middle of the night until they were well-oiled machines.

Still, Parker wrinkled her nose tiredly. "Isn't there a quote about that? Perfectionism being the downfall of yada, yada, yada. Want me to tell him that? Threaten to call the union if you don't get to go home soon?"

The truck shook as Jody kicked her leg at Parker with a reprimanding tut. But, she was smiling as she did it, giggling under her breath in that way of hers. "He's not that bad. This is not that bad. I mean, sometimes, the schedule is so mind-bendingly awful that it's a wonder anything gets done... but it's hardly the worst I've dealt with. At least he treats everyone well. Well, he doesn't scream at anyone, I mean."

Parker blew a raspberry. "I can't even imagine. I think I'd get arrested for my behavior if a director ever screamed at me. No idea how you don't lose your shit on the daily."

"Oh, I've come close a few times," she chuckled.

The comment surprised Parker. Not because Jody Moreno was a woman that could take care of herself—obviously, she didn't put up with bullshit, and she didn't rely on anyone to get things done. Moreso because Jody had to put up with so much that Parker couldn't quite imagine a scenario that would have to be bad enough to cause the camerawoman to lose her cool. And if being yelled at wasn't enough, what was? Leaning closer, she needled. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure I can even remember why anymore."

"So it's happened more than once?"

"Are you kidding?" Jody scoffed with a shake of her head. "The type of behavior you see on set is not something you'd ever get away with anywhere else. It happens every movie. Directors are just so..."

"Insane?"

"Hollywood," she corrected, gaze darting around to see if anyone was in hearing range of her complaints. No one was, though, and even if they were, Parker had a sneaking suspicion that the other set crew would be more likely to join in on the bitch fest than snitch about it. "I mean you wouldn't believe some of the stuff we have to put up with. The egos some of these directors have is absurd. Bad directors! Ones that shouldn't even be directing that act like they're Tarantino or Nolan. Throwing things and crying and blubbering like babies—"

"Oh, fuck off!" Parker cried, leaning even closer. "You're joking!"

Jody Moreno was not, in fact, joking. She looked scandalized just by having to recall the things she had seen. Something haunted in her eyes, but there was still a smile tugging at her mouth. Obviously, she saw the humor in it; even if it was fucked up. "I wish. I mean—grown men crying because something wasn't going their way or screaming because the sun is too bright." She made air quotes with her hands, showing that she was not joking in the slightest about this before inching towards Parker. Something twinkled in her eyes as she said, "I kid you not during my first gig ever, I had a director break down in tears because the lead actress wasn't pronouncing the word butter how he wanted her to."

"Butter?" Parker echoed incredulously. "Is there even a wrong way to say it?"

"Oh," she said, giggling. "You'd be surprised. Not to say that he was right in his little hissy fit, but her accent was so wrong. Awful, Parker. I'm telling you. The whole film—a disaster."

"Huh. Butter," she said with a giggle.

Jody giggled back. "No, it was more like boo-ter."

"Boo-ter?" she cried. "That's—no way. Butter. Butt-her. How do you even—bu-t-ter?"

The two women keeled forward in laughter at the ridiculous conversation. It was such a stupid thing for someone to cry over, but the longer they tossed the word back in forth in the most ridiculous accents they could imagine, Parker was beginning to forget how it was properly pronounced in the first place.

Was it—?

There was a scuffle of shoes, then a thump as Dan dropped his elbows onto the side of the truck bed with a wary glance towards the two women. He almost looked like he didn't want to get involved in the first place, but when the silent stare-off seemed even funnier than their previous conversation causing them to tip against the other in laughter, his curiosity seemed to outweigh his hesitation.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked.

"That depends," Parker wiped tears out of the corner of her eyes. "How do you say butter?"

Dan blinked at her. Then, slowly, he shook his head at them with a long sigh. "So, no, I don't want to know. I told your brother that leaving you two hens together would only lead to trouble. He doesn't ever listen to me, though, does he?"

"Oi!" Parker smacked him on the arm, scoffing. "Who are you calling hens?"

Dan waved a hand at her, before snatching the helmet off of her lap, and plopping it atop her head to say, "always clucking, you two. Colt's going to end up in trouble and he's not even going to know why. I'd feel sorry for him if he didn't still owe me fifty bucks. You aren't here to pay his debts, are you?"

Parker, helmet now hanging low over her eyes, adjusted it towards the back of her head with a scoff. "It's sins of the father, not sins of the little sister. What's he doing that he's going to get in trouble for, anyway?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no," Dan laughed, wagging a finger at her in as much of a patronizing manner as someone could manage after a twelve hour shift. She would have scowled if it wasn't so endearing; she always liked Dan. Mostly because he had a head on his shoulders when her brother was constantly looking for where he left his, but also because he was just as good at teasing as he was being teased. "I'm not falling for that one, Park. If you don't know, then you're not going to find out from me. Snitches get stiches, you know?"

"Whatever. He's awful at secrets, so if he is doing something stupid, I'll find out. I always do."

Dan mimicked talking with his hand. "What'd I say? Clucking hens."

"I don't cluck, I just point out all the ways he's spectacularly stupid in," she corrected with a waggle of the head. The movement seemed to jostle the oversized helmet too much, however, and it rapped her nose as it slid down her face. Parker adjusted it a second time with a huff, ignoring how Jody was snickering into her hand. "Speaking of doing spectacularly stupid things, Numbnuts doesn't need this helmet for this stunt does he? I think it's broken."

"They have straps for a reason," Dan pointed out.

The comment sounded far too much like a threat for her liking though and Parker just managed to bend out of his grasp before he could cinch the straps under her chin. She bumped into Jody, who only shook her head at the pair's antics, as her radio warbled with nonsensical chatter.

Parker side-eyed Dan. "Isn't there something you should be doing right now? Like—I don't know—working? Tying safety knots or blowing up an inflatable mat or whatever it is you do? I'm sure there's a building you could hurl yourself off of nearby if you'd rather leave the hens alone."

Dan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "That's your brother's job, though, isn't it?"

And—oh, yeah.

Remembering the reason that she was sitting in this pick-up truck in the first place Parker planted a hand on the helmet so she could tip her head back far enough to see said brother standing about thirty feet up on a platform of sorts. It was the skeleton of a building, open staircases with haphazardly drilled in railings surrounding each new floor. It almost looked like something you would find on a construction site in lieu of a working elevator, but Colt didn't seem to mind the shoddy building from his spot at the tip-top of it where he was in deep conversation with the stunt coordinator. Jody had explained that this was the frame of whatever building he would actually be performing the stunt from; just a temporary set he could work with here before shooting the real thing, but from this point of view it just looked like a whole lot of OSHA violations to Parker.

As expected, he didn't seem to notice.

In fact, Colt seemed to be smiling an awful lot for someone about to be thrown off a building, and even though he was wearing a harness, Parker had to look away before the nervous feeling in her stomach ran off with her dinner.

"I still don't understand why he's doing this at midnight," she mumbled to no one in particular. The darkness seemed to creep in every corner, and Parker wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill. "Couldn't the stunt coordinator have booked this death trap during the day?"

"It's cheaper at night," Jody said. "Less people around, less unnecessary crew getting in the way."

"Plus, you know, if he does fall and crack his head open on the pavement it's a whole lot easier for an ambulance to get here without rush-hour traffic," Dan joked.

The truck physically rocked from how quickly the two women jerked their heads in his direction, and as if suddenly aware of how flat his joke had fallen with this particular audience, he threw up his palms before they could say anything.

"Shit. Sorry. I was just kidding, yeah? Stunt humor tends to be... bleak."

"Stunt humor is never funny," Jody said.

"Honestly, Dan," Parker added with the shake of her head. The helmet slid down her forehead once more, and she tossed the entire helmet behind her with a patronizing tut. "Read the room."

He sucked his teeth, grimacing at the ground. "Sorry."

"If he ends up in the hospital now it's all going to be your fault," Parker continued, digging her teeth in. She could have bleak humor too when she wanted, and Dan grimaced a second time as if he was just remembering that. "Don't stuntmen believe in jinx's? We need salt, now. You have any salt? Or, like, a rabbit's foot or—is it one crow's feather or two?"

This time, he rolled his eyes at her, looking a whole lot less apologetic about the situation. "I said sorry."

"Oh, well, I'll make sure Colt knows that when he's on a ventilator and having a machine do all his breathing for him. He'll be so touched, I'm sure."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry! He's sorry! Jody, give me your radio, we need to cancel—"

Parker reached for Jody's radio at the same time that she got tired of their antics, and with a glare, Jody swatted Parker's hand away from her hip. "Honestly, you two," she tsked at them like a teacher scolding schoolchildren. And, like two schoolchildren being scolded, Parker and Dan avoided one another's gaze so they didn't bust out in laughter. "Now you have me worried!"

"Oh, he's going to be fine," Dan assured her.

"Fine," Parker echoed.

"Well," Dan hedged after a moment, and Parker was already snickering before she heard what he had to say. "Physically he'll be okay. It's all safe, he's harnessed in, the mat is made for this sort of thing. But, mentally, you know..." Dan trailed off as he glanced up towards Colt. "He'll be the same he always has been."

"Oh, stop it!" Jody chucked her empty soda bottle at him.

It bounced off his chest with a dull thud, and Parker had just tilted forward in laughter when there was a bullhorn somewhere on the far side of the set. The three tilted their heads back just in time to watch Colt lurched off the platform, arms swinging wildly as if he was falling to his death. And just when Parker's stomach clenched in concern because—what if?—he hit the mat with his own dull thud. Air started hissing out of the inflatable in seconds, and as it pooled around him, Colt's first response was to give everyone on set a thumbs-up.

"Well, there's definitely something wrong with him," Parker said after a long moment of silence, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Dan was already walking away from whatever she was about to say, and needing an audience, she turned to Jody knowing the woman would sympathize. With a jerk of her thumb, she sighed. "I mean, why else would he do this for money? Honestly?"

Jody hemmed and hawed for a moment before giving in. "Because... he's an idiot?"

"Because," Parker agreed, finishing her own soda with an eyeroll as her brother traded high-fives with one of the other stuntmen, "he's an idiot."

---

...

...

...

Parker rolled her eyes, watching the little green message bubble filled with "..." blink yet again on the phone screen before her. It had been repeating this message for the last hour of her life; an hour that she was now never going to get back thanks to the idiot on the other end of the messenger app, and as her neck twitched with a painful crick from the angle she had been staring at her phone, something even more painful burned behind her eyes.

She should probably stop staring at it; could definitely do with some dinner, a nice glass of water, and maybe some Ibuprofen. Wine wouldn't hurt either. Nor would a cigarette, a nice warm shower, and a few hours lying vertical in her bed. Somewhere unplugged, where she didn't give into the temptation to glance at her phone; the very phone in her hand, that she could ever so easily tilt her wrist to see if maybe, in her spiral of misery, he had—

...

"Son of a bitch," she muttered, head thumping none-too-gently against the table.

It hurt a lot more than it should have, but it was cool, too. The scratched up wood smooth against her cheeks as she worked on evening out her breathing. Her neck felt better like this; shoulders too. Hell, it just felt good to lay her head down after the week that she had. Felt nice to let her eyes flutter shut, to let all thoughts turn off, to just breathe in, breathe out, and—

Her phone buzzed, and Parker ripped her head up off the table so quickly the room spun before her.

But whatever hope had caught in her chest fizzled out like a popped balloon upon seeing Colt's name on her screen.

The message read, "I thought we were gonna be sombrero buddies :(" with an attached picture of her brother wearing a sombrero and sunglasses, holding a heavily packed taco, a still smoking grill in the background. She recognized it immediately as the one at Dan's, before remembering that she had been invited over with some of the other boys for tacos and margaritas earlier that week. No wonder her brother looked so put out.

"Son of a bitch," she said a second time.

She meant it, too. Parker was pretty sure that tacos and spicy margaritas was the cure for every ailment in life. Or, you know, the spiritual kind anyway. They certainly didn't help when she broke her arm a few years ago; but they did lift her spirits immensely.

"What the hell is going on over there?" Tom's voice echoed from the other end of the room, and suddenly Parker was reminded that she was not alone in her misery.

She glanced up to find him staring at her with furrowed brows, a hand on the hip of his leather NASA flight suit as Betty and Sasha fiddled with the material. It was his final character testing today, along with the creation of the highly coveted look book, and while her brother wasn't needed for this sort of thing, Parker had jumped at the chance to spend some time with Tom specifically so she wouldn't spend all day thinking about work.

Son of a bitch!

She winced, waving her phone at him. "Oh, just Colt. He invited me for dinner tonight over at Dan's and I totally forgot. He's going to be pissed. He's all alone wearing his sombrero."

"Colt is going to be pissed because he doesn't have anyone to wear a sombrero with?" Tom asked in a scathing tone. She would have corrected him if it wasn't... well, accurate. She loved her brother, but sometimes he got upset over the littlest of things. Particularly when he felt like she was doing something without him. "He does know that he's an adult, doesn't he?"

"Oi, be nice. That's my brother you're talking about."

"You shit on him all the time."

"Well—" she waved a hand around flippantly, flabbergasted at even having to defend against such an accusation. "Duh! He's my brother. But you don't have that right, Ryder, so pack it in before I report you to, like, HR or whatever."

Tom rolled his eyes as Sasha tugged on the length of his right pant leg. It all looked good; professionally made, snug in all the right places, and the perfect backdrop for his bright eyes and shiny teeth. In fact, he looked even better than she thought he had looked before, and Parker was just about to ogle him as he was turned left and right by the seamstresses when her phone buzzed a second time.

She plucked it up, disappointed yet again to see that it was from her brother and not from the eBay seller.

"And what on Earth is with that?" Tom's cloying voice echoed a second time.

She pulled her attention away from her phone long enough to notice the cross furrow of his brows and the tightness of his shoulders.

"With what?" she asked, not sure where this was coming from.

He gestured to her phone, sniffing when his hairstylist teased a few strands of hair off his forehead with a comb. "You've had your nose in that thing since you got here. You have a hot date that I don't know about or something?" he snarked.

And—well.

Parker had to physically bite down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing. Not only would that further piss him off, but with the people in the room, it likely wouldn't be great for his image either. But the idea that Tom—Tom Ryder, the same man whose face was plastered all over town—would be upset that he wasn't given her undivided attention was fucking hilarious to Parker.

Honestly, men. They really were just children.

Smothering out her smile, Parker turned her phone face down against the table. "Okay, alright, I'm sorry. There's this guy over in Wrightwood that has a print shop, or inherited one or his Dad just demolished one or—I don't know," she paused to wave a hand around, earning an eyeroll from Tom. "Whatever. I'm trying to convince him to sell me a box of mystery novels from his collection. He's being unnecessarily difficult about it, though."

"Who is this guy?"

"Melissa's dad's second cousin or something. She showed me his eBay profile last week and he's been dragging me over the coals for the past couple of days about whether he'll sell to me or not. He wants an absurd up-front price that, even if I could pay, I would never pay, but he also hasn't sold anything on eBay before so I think he's getting kind of desperate."

Tom, still cross, but now slightly more interested, arched an eyebrow at her. "Why are you buying stuff off eBay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you think I have a print shop hiding in my apartment? I know you haven't been there yet, but it's not that big. I think it has an occupancy limit of five."

"Five?" he echoed dumbly. To that, she did laugh, but then she glanced back at her phone and realized that she likely wasn't going to get anything good from this idiot even if he did sell to her. As was her lot in life, nothing seemed to work out her way. Knowing this, Parker let her head fall onto the table with a hollow thump, something miserable prickling in the back of her eyes. Maybe that's why he let that particular comment go without any further mocking. There was the shutter of a polaroid camera snapping before he spoke again. "Well, why are you worrying about this now?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's Sunday." She tilted her head sideways on the table to peer over at him. He wasn't mocking her, but given the team of people quite literally fixing his air and clothes for him at the moment, she doubted he understood what she was going through either. "Can't you deal with it later?"

"Like... when I'm busy working at the store?"

"You're always working at the store."

She tutted; half in humor, half about how miserable that statement about her life just was. "Well, duh. That happens when you own a teeny tiny little shop that, for some reason, seems to be actively trying to bankrupt you. I think there's a malevolent spirit the real estate agent didn't tell me about. Or, like, it's built on haunted burial grounds or something. I've broken three lightbulbs this month, and fell off a ladder yesterday just trying to fix the stockroom fan. Which, by the way, I still don't know how it broke, but something is not right with that thing. I don't think they should squeak so much. It sounds like a pig. Or... like a dying cat. It's unsettling."

Tom must have sensed something in her lackluster tone because he almost seemed concerned when he asked, "don't you have employees to do that stuff for you?"

"Uh, employee, singular. And you've met her. And, half the time, I wonder if she isn't the malevolent spirit that's out to make my life miserable," she said. Meant it, too. Just that week Melissa had insulted her style in three different slang terms that Parker had to look up on Urban Dictionary to understand. Honestly, she could handle being "old", what she couldn't handle was having to put work in just to know she was being insulted. That crossed some sort of imaginary line. "Besides, she only works a couple shifts a week, and she's more for cleaning and stocking than real, managerial stuff. Or anything that might require her getting more than two feet off the ground. I'm not paying liability insurance."

He frowned at her oddly. "Don't you have to—?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, Melissa is great. But she can't do everything, and I can't expect her to do more than she already has as a part-time employee."

"Why don't you hire a manager then?" he asked as if that was a conclusion she hadn't drawn herself.

She might have told him to fuck off for mansplaining right then and there if Tom's question hadn't been spoken in such a earnest manner. Or, as earnest as someone like him could be. Most A-listers like him wouldn't even be giving her the time of day, let alone listening to her problems, and at the very least Parker took some comfort in the thought.

"Good idea, but I think there's about a thousand other things I need to do before I can budget for a manager. Like, I should probably pay off my car at some point. Then get liability insurance. Then get car insurance," she counted off.

Sasha and Betty laughed into their hands, both women just as amused by Parker as the first time, and with another snap of the polaroid camera, the group shifted to making sure the right picture had the right information in the tag book for future reference.

Tom took the reprieve to snag two bottles of water from the mini-fridge before he was sitting down next to her. He wasn't slumping—she didn't think Tom Ryder could slump—but from the weight of his shoulders it was obvious he had been having a long day too.

"You can't afford anyone else?" he asked in spite of that.

Parker uncapped her bottle with a sigh. She didn't even have the energy to be disgruntled by how different their lives were. What he had, he had because he earned it, and Parker made sure to remember that rather than resent that as she took a long dreg of water. "One day I can. Just... not today. I need to have a more steady revenue stream before I can start thinking about anything like that, and to get a more steady revenue stream I have to be willing to work all hours of the day. Even if it's just to haggle with some prick still living in his parent's basement for a box of Hardy Boys books. Turtles on turtles and all that."

"I have no fucking idea what that means," he said, blinking at her, and this time he was so earnest that she couldn't have doubted him even if she tried.

She shook her head with a laugh, already feeling better. "Do you feel like Mexican food after this?"

"Dan's?"

"I have an open invitation," she said. They'll be cool with it if I bring you, she meant. And from the way he pursed his lips, it was obvious that he understood that too. But, he also seemed tired sitting next to her, and Parker could feel that same sort of weariness in her own bones too. "Or... we could get pizza?"

"Pizza is all carbs."

"Mhm, you're right. We should definitely get pizza," she nodded as if he had made a really good point.

"Can you afford that?"

"Are you kidding?" Parker clutched a hand to her chest. "There's always money for pizza. That's like budgeting one-oh-one, Ryder."

He didn't make a comment about how that was probably a stupid way to spend what little money she had, and Parker didn't bring up the fact that she knew he would pay for it later anyway. He always did, even when she made a big deal about wanting to pick up the tab, Tom had yet to let her pay for anything when they were together. She supposed it was easy for him; just muscle memory at this point in his life.

But to her it meant a lot, and she always did her best to make sure he knew that.

Just at the crest of his elbow sat the photographer's polaroid camera, and while the ladies were busy taping everything down and scribbling notes in a variety of pen colors, Parker reached past Tom to grab it.

"I've never had a polaroid camera before."

"Never?"

She picked up the camera, aiming it at Tom, and without hesitating he tilted his head up, eyes down, mouth curving open just a centimeter in that way that looked so effortlessly good that she almost forgot to snap a photo.

"Son of a bitch," she said when it printed, the photo glossy and warm in her hands. "How do you do that? Is that what mewling is?"

"Don't—don't say that," he laughed at her, grabbing the camera from her hands to point it at her. Parker's response was the opposite of his, however, and when the picture printed, it revealed an awkward looking Parker, mouth half open in argument, eyes a little too squinty, hair all sorts of a mess.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked. "Give me that!"

But Tom was faster than she was, and when he tucked the picture into the pocket of his jumpsuit, laughing so heartily that the ladies glanced over at the pair with their own curious smiles, Parker could only catch her face in her hands with a furious blush.

"Tom!" she hissed, smacking him. "It's not funny!"

"You just—it's not—come on, here," he said, shaking his head at her. She was still scowling when Tom grabbed her chair and tugged it by the leg until their thighs were pressed against one another. His body radiated heat as he tossed his free arm over her shoulder, cheek against cheek, and she felt the rumble of his voice more than heard it as he directed her. "Just smile, Park, Jesus. Don't look so stiff."

She tried to shove him off her, only to fail, and as Tom laughed at her, Parker couldn't help but laugh herself.

The photos were crooked, one slightly blurry, and in neither photo were they looking at the camera. And though she still didn't look great, nowhere near as good as him, Tom looked happy in the photos as he laughed.

Parker decided right then that she could live looking like this if he looked like that.

---

Crave Cafe was just as quaint during the off season as it was during the busy summer months, and though it was surprisingly vacant for a Saturday afternoon, the cafe never actually felt empty to Parker. All the tables were dotted with cute decorations, the chairs all stuffed with hand-stitched pillows and dollar-bin cushions that added an eclectic nature to the darkly painted walls, and the jukebox in the corner never failing to fill the lapses of silence with something soothing. For so many reasons this spot had always been one of her favorite places for coffee in LA, and after a long week at work, Parker couldn't help but take a deep whiff of the cinnamon and coffee bean scent that lingered in the air.

"There you are," Harry greeted from behind the counter. He looked a little out of sorts with how empty the place was, the counter spotless and clean from wiping it down too much, and as he grinned at her arrival, Parker was more than happy to be of service to her favorite barista on this side of town. "I was wondering if you'd make it over today."

Parker ambled closer with a tut. "That's almost insulting, Harry, of course I would. It's Saturday, isn't it? What sort of person would I be if I broke tradition with no good reason?"

Harry swung a pink towel over his shoulder, grinning as he started tapping away on his kiosk screen. "The usual, then?"

"Plus, a cookie, please."

"Really living big theses days, huh, Parker?" he teased.

She bent her hip at the counter, watching as she always did as Harry started fiddling with the expensive machines lined behind the counter. She never understood which thing did what, but she did know that anything made by Harry was about to be phenomenal. As steam rushed from one of the metal prongs, she promised herself that one day she would buy a top of the line espresso and latte machine for her kitchen.

Of course, she'd had to learn how to use it, but... well, dreams were dreams for a reason.

"Yeah, well, I always had a weak will when it came to your baked goods. Is this the same recipe as last year, or did you change it up?"

Harry poured her coffee into a to-go cup, twisting the foam at the end to create the image of a leaf, before carefully sliding it towards her. Right before she could grab it, however, Harry pulled the cup back, warning, "I know I say this every time, but it is literally boiling right now, Parker. Don't drink it yet."

She laughed as if that hadn't been exactly what she was about to do. "I know," she said, smiling a little too keenly for his liking. "I won't. Promise."

He didn't seem to trust her, but eventually he gave up and slid the cup towards her side of the counter. The second he moved away she grabbed the cup, finger dipping into the foam—which, of course, was also scalding hot—and to hide the fact that she had just burnt herself, Parker licked some foam off her finger with a bland smile. "I was just... taste testing."

Harry suppressed a sigh to toss her a cold rag, and as Parker cleaned off her finger, he started making Melissa's pumpkin spice latte. "The cookie is a different recipe this time. Marin wanted to try something new, so make sure you tell her what you think. It has nutmeg and hazelnut in it. I think it's a little too much, but Sarah really likes it."

"Nutty," she joked.

"And hopefully good."

Parker waved a hand at him, testing the temperature of the cup once more, before catching Harry's stern look. She tucked her hands before her back with a glittering smile. "I'm sure it'll be amazing. If I get to eat any of it, anyway."

Parker didn't mention the fact that Melissa had a nasty habit of eating any and all pastries she brought into the store without so much as leaving a crumb for her boss to taste. She figured Harry didn't need to know all that information. Besides, on the off chance that Melissa was actually a Gremlin like Colt had theorized, she was still trying to figure out what the rules were for feeding her, and the last thing she wanted was to have Harry cut off their main source of lunch.

As if he understood all that without her having to explain, Harry shook his head at her with a laugh. "Yeah, well, you may as well scarf it down now before you head back over. I know we joke that you're my number one customer, Park, but I would have understood if you didn't have time to stop over today."

Nothing he said had any bearing on the Melissa being a Gremlin vs not debate, and Parker tilted her head at him oddly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm flattered that you would want to stop in here, but I don't know how you found time to with that whole mess going on. I couldn't even park in my own parking lot this morning, you know that? Kudos to you for finally stealing my customers, but... sheesh. I'll never understand how you pulled this one off."

Huh.

Well, that made even less sense than before and she had quite literally been debating whether her employee was a creature from an 80's fantasy horror series. Sensing that she was missing something important, Parker peered out the front window with a frown. She had noticed a lot of people milling around outside, but she had walked from the post office so she didn't have to deal with traffic, no parking involved. "I'm not—what do you mean?"

It was then that Harry seemed to sense her confusion, and suddenly the pair were sharing matching looks of confusion. "Um... didn't you come here from your shop?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. And while it wasn't unusual for Melissa to take morning shift on Saturdays lately, suddenly, there were a thousand possible scenarios flickering through her mind of all the things that could have gone wrong since Melissa opened that morning. Panic welled in her chest, and Parker tried to laugh through it, struggling to explain herself. "I crashed at Colt's place last night without my phone charger. I dropped it off to charge while I ran some errands, but I came right here to get lunch, so I didn't grab it yet. Melissa was working this morning."

Oh god.

Melissa was working this morning.

"Oh my god," Parker slapped a hand onto the counter, suddenly worried that either her shop was on fire or that her only employee had died. "She's alright, isn't she? Oh my god! I haven't checked my messages yet—!"

"Jesus, no, Parker, it's okay!" he interrupted her before she could have a full blown panic attack in his cafe. He lifted his hands to placate her, and while Parker took a deep breath, she noticed how busy the outside street seemed to be. Awkwardly laughing, he rubbed his forehead. "Nothing's wrong. Definitely not wrong."

"Oh," she said, blood slowly rushing from her head. "Good."

He blinked at her, and Parker blinked right back.

"But then why—?"

There was a ding from the far end of the counter, and Harry gestured at her to wait as he grabbed her to-go bag. She could smell their freshly toasted sandwiches across the counter, and when Harry plucked a cookie out of the display, her stomach twisted in nervous knots.

"No phone," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at her. "Wow. That's... So, you haven't checked social media or anything today? Or talked to Melissa."

Her reply was a hesitant, "...no?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment, before shaking his head with another, surprised laugh. Like it had been startled out of him. Feeling even more confused, Parker frowned at him helplessly from her side of the counter. "Maybe you should just head over, then. Melissa could probably use the help right about now."

"Help?"

"And, uh, listen if you ever want to do some sort of deal with Crave, I'd love to talk to you about it," he added on as she numbly scrabbled for her credit card. The machine beeped as he continued, "you know, a punchcard sort of thing; buy two books gets fifty percent off coffee here, or something like that. Lots of stuff we could do, really. But we can talk about it later."

"Um... okay?" she nodded, so bewildered that she almost forgot to grab her coffees off the counter. Harry waved at her as she went, and Parker nearly smacked into the glass door as she waved back. "See you later, I guess."

The moment she stepped outside she bumped into a throng of girls standing on their phones, snapping photos. They reminded her a lot of Melissa; dressed in cute outfits, hair done up for the occasion, makeup a tad smeared beneath the eyes from grinning too much.

"Um, excuse me," she called, angling past one of the girl before running into two more identical ones. In fact, when Parker actually picked her head up to look around, she realized that the block was crawling with people. Mostly girls. Teen girls.

Mostly teen girls that seemed to be waiting in a line for—

Parker's coffee hit the sidewalk with a splat.

"Hey!" one of said girls cried at her, angrily shaking coffee stains off of her white sneakers. But Parker didn't notice much of anything she hurried down the block, bag smacking into every third person as she tried to weave through the thread of people. "At least say excuse me!"

The crowd of people got more tightly packed as the line curved, and Parker stopped square in the middle of the street to gape at the sight in front of her.

Every square inch of her store was packed with people. Girls, boys, thirty-year old blondes snapping photos of every angle and squealing delightfully when the picture came out right while their boyfriends hung out front with matching looks of boredom. People were even spilling outside from how crowded it was, and she had to physically push through to step inside.

"What in the f—?"

Parker was just about to owe a ten dollar bill to the swear jar when a familiar head of hair snapped up from the other side of the front counter.

Melissa didn't look much like Melissa. Her curls had fallen over the course of the morning, wayward tufts of frizzy hair tucked behind her ears as she worked on bagging an order. There were flecks of mascara smudged along her cheeks, her lips were lacking their normal peach glossy glaze, and as they made eye contact, she looked half dazed.

"Parker!" she hissed, trying not to sound shrill but definitely not sounding calm. "Where have you been?"

Not knowing what to say, Parker lifted her sandwich bag and latte into the air, helplessly fumbling for words. "I—I was getting us lunch. What is going on here?" she cried, angling behind the counter before someone else was the victim of her wayward coffee. "Is everyone on crack or something? What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Melissa echoed with a scandalized glare, a broken manicure jabbing in Parker's direction as the next person in line awkwardly set their books on the counter. "What did you do? Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been calling you all morning!"

"It's been like this all morning?"

"Uh, duh!" Melissa shrieked. The noise caught the attention of some nearby customers who looked concerned by the high-pitched noise. In unison, Parker and Melissa smiled at the customers, offering one-handed waves until their attention drifted elsewhere. Stiffly, they started on the next customer's order why talking out of the side of their mouths at one another. "You need to check your phone. Like, right now, Park."

"I can't," she hissed back, still speaking through a smile. Her store had never had this many people in it before, and suddenly she was wondering if she should move liability insurance higher on her list of things. "I left it at home."

"Oh my—" Melissa grunted under her breath, still smiling, and when she finished ringing up her customer, she quickly snatched her phone from her back pocket. The next customer in line seemed annoyed that her attention was taken away, however, and as she fiddled with it, Parker worked through the girl's pile of books. "Honestly. Of all the days that you don't have your phone on you... I mean, it's the twenty-first century, Park! Always have your phone on you!"

"Okay, maybe save the lecture for later," she chirped back as she finished ringing up the order. The girl paid with a credit card, and on she went, receipt waving in hand just as someone else took her place. "Just catch me up with what the hell is going on right now, please."

Melissa's response was an exasperated sigh before she was shoving her phone into Parker's hand, and retaking her spot at the register.

At first, Parker had no idea what she was looking at.

It was a picture on Instagram. A picture of her storefront, taken from across the street, framed to look aesthetically pleasing, and with some sort of boho filter on it that actually made the place look prettier than it really was. A nice picture, definitely, but not a good explanation as to what the hell was going on.

"Why are you showing me a picture of my store? I know what it looks like. I bought it."

Another customer went out the door as two more potential customers stepped inside, and Melissa sighed so heavily Parker was pretty sure they could feel the gust of wind on the other side of her double paned front windows.

"It's not the picture that matter, dummy!" she chirped, still smiling, before she was nudging Parker with her elbow. "Just—look at it!"

Parker was about to give a very childish retort about how she was looking at it, when she actually looked at it. It had received hundreds of thousands of likes since it had been posted last night, and while she clicked on the caption, a flood of new comments were being added by the second.

"Biggest question anyone asks if how do I prepare for an audition," the caption started. "Sometimes, it's easy. Sometimes you got to get your hands dirty and do some reading to get in the mindset of the character. In honor of filming starting this week, here's a s/o to my favorite hole in the wall bookstore in LA."

There was a flurry of hashtags—all ridiculous and stupid and so innately self-centered—that before she even checked the profile, Parker had a very strong feeling about who the original poster was.

Who else had this kind of social media following? Who else could do this?

The profile pic was just as pretty as he was: tomryder

Parker scanned the post a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Then, when she still felt like she wasn't processing it right, she glanced up at Melissa.

"Is this...?"

"Yup," the girl said.

"It's—this is his account?"

"Uh-huh," she said again.

Parker slumped against the counter, gaze raking over the horde of customers prodding around her store like it was a damn Barnes & Nobles. No, better. Because this was officially the bookstore that inspired the Tom Ryder for his latest role. NO Barnes & Nobles had ever done that. "This is all because he—"

"It had three hundred thousands likes this morning," Melissa added, not even waiting for Parker to get around to asking about that. And while the teenager seemed like it was no big deal, when she glanced up at her boss, her eyes were sparkling and her mouth was curled at the side. Obviously, her fascination for Tom Ryder had not disappeared. "Yeah. I know."

"This means..."

"That you're officially cool now?" Melissa chirped; somehow scathing and ecstatic at the same time. "Trust me, I know. Our lives just got a whole lot better, Park. I mean—look at this! We're so the coolest people here. I can't wait until school on Monday."

Parker nodded, feeling like her entire body was buzzing, and not quite hearing anything else that Melissa was saying. She just kept seeing the post over and over in her head. She had tried so hard not to need things from Tom, and he had proven time and time again that he was more than happy to give them.

For a long while, she had suspected that doing things for others—throwing parties, picking up the tab, paying for the alcohol—was just natural to him in his life now, a way that he had adapted to Hollywood stardom.

Yeah, you're welcome. I usually get paid twenty grand for doing something like this.

But that didn't quite fit the narrative anymore, did it?

"Excuse me?" a voice called out, interrupting her thinking. Parker blinked to find a twenty-something year old girl staring at her, hands timidly picking at one another. "Um, sorry. Do you have any Frank Herbert books? I looked, but didn't see any."

"Uh... yeah," she hedged, shaking any thoughts she had away. Right now, she would work. Later, she could deal with the rest of it. "Yeah. Right this way and I can show you what we have, and if you don't see any you like, I try to get sci-fi as much as possible so I can try to have new stuff this week. I might even have some extras in the back..."

The din of noise threatened to drown Parker out as she worked with her customer, but no matter how frazzled her tired she was, every time the bell tinkled with someone new coming inside, Parker found herself smiling a little bit brighter.

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark

💙 Stunted, Starving Juvenility

by TomatenMark (@tomatenmark5)

E, WIP, 686k, Wangxian

Summary: At sixteen Wei Wuxian is—through some strange twist of fate, or a nick in the layer between parallel universes, who knows—out of the blue confronted with that one incense burner dream one night. While his curious mind is left unable to stop poking at this new perspective on Lan Wangji, circumstances in the Cloud Recesses begin to change and Wei Wuxian is suddenly presented with life-altering opportunities. Maybe Gusu isn’t so bad after all? (Or alternatively: The fic where I get to give Wei Wuxian the academic scholarship he deserves while simultaneously getting him hitched early on.) Kay's comments: Honestly, if you haven't heard of this fic yet, then you've probably lived under a rock this past year, haven't you? It's definitely The Fic™ and has been for a while now and it's already been recommended a few times by followers already, but I need to give it a personal shout-out as well, because I adore this story. It's living rent-free in my brain and despite already having more than 600k words, I re-read it like every other month and never get tired of it. One of the highlights is definitely TomatenMark's incredible attention to detail. Something will get mentioned once in chapter five and ten chapters later it'll suddenly be a major plot point. I also really adore the numerous characters TomatenMark has added to the story, they are all working so beautifully in the story and I find myself caring for them very much! As for the plot, it's basically a Cloud Recesses canon-divergence where WangXian get together and get married during the lectures and it kickstarts a canon-divergence that looks much better than the original timeline while also staying true to the characters and not sugarcoating things. If you haven't already, you should definitely check this story out! Excerpt: “I regard Lan Zhan highly,” he tried to reassure and Lan Xichen interestedly hummed, prompting him to add, “If I ever make him unhappy in some way I’d be the first to beat myself up over it.” Lan Xichen nodded and twinkled at him but Wei Wuxian didn’t dare to relax. “You seem to be quite dedicated,” the other noted. “And Wangji seems to return the sentiment given how he returned without any protection from the storm when I was quite sure I had seen him leave with his coat that afternoon.” “Ah. Er, yeah, Lan Zhan was so kind as to lend it to me when it started to rain,” Wei Wuxian explained, feeling on edge from the other’s roundabout way of hinting at something Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure he was even knowingly hinting at. “However, I have noticed that your neck was quite bruised when you returned, Wei-gongzi,” Lan Xichen went on. Wei Wuxian’s head snapped up from where he had held it politely lowered before. Lan Xichen’s eyes were overflowing with mirth. He definitely knew what he was hinting at!! “I hope you two didn’t get into a fight?” the Lan sect heir innocently mused and Wei Wuxian felt his resolve break. “Zewu-jun, please don’t torture me like this,” he begged.

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, cloud recesses study arc, sunshot campaign, getting together, falling in love, first time, first kiss, developing relationship, period-typical homophobia, kink exploration, fluff and angst, cultivation sect politics, genius wei wuxian, inventor wei wuxian, marriage, minor character death, scheming nie huaisang, burning of the cloud recesses, wei wuxian has a family, bad parent jiang fengmian, top lan wangji, bottom wei wuxian

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[thiscrying]

She looks like fun.

single chapter: kenny.

━━ 🥢 A/N : I am writing this at 04:46 in the morning as a way to thank the repercussion in my other posts, I never really expected that I would receive so many likes, since I am new here, love you all of you and thank you for all the support.

━━ 🍷 WARNINGS : NSFW, bad cliché story

━━ 💋 SYNOPSIS : "dance as if somebody is watching, 'cause they are."

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You were at a big party, you didn't really know anyone and you were only there because you needed to get together since you're new in the city, people seemed to have a really good energy and the atmosphere of that place was really nice so you decided to buy a drink to let go more. As you walk to the bar in your high heels, you notice some guys staring at you, this felt fucking amazing. "Hi! Can I get a mojito, please?" You said, standing at the bar and turning to see people dancing behind you, it seems that everyone is pretty excited to be here. You notice a blonde-haired boy in a orange parka staring at you, he looked confident and he got even hotter when he smiled at you. You get your drink and walk confidently with your black short dress to the dance floor, as you start dancing, you notice looks fixed on you, also listen to some compliments and superficially hear a interesting conversation that caught your attention. "Fuck, I've never seen this girl here before" A dark-haired boy said, looking at you with his eyes widened. "I've never seen anyone dance like this, look how she moves her hips, dude" "Yeah man, she must be wild in bed, and look at those tits, bro" You keep dancing while listening people talking about you, you felt like the main character for the first time in you whole life. Then suddenly, a group of girls approaches you. "Hey girl, you look totally amazing" A blonde girl with a red dress said, you were too drunk to remember this conversation the next day so you just listened to her. "Yeah we were talking about that, we've never seen you here, are you new here?" This girl asked, playing with her, are they friends? You ask yourself, trying to get your mind off your thoughts and answer her. "I actually am! I came from another country" You said, taking a sip from your mojito, it tastes different but still good. "That kind of explains why you dance so well, have you been interested in someone already?" The brunette said curious with a cute smile on her face, you couldn't hear much because of the loud music, but you still understood some words. "Well, there are a lot of hot people around here, especially the girls" You answered laughing a bit because of the alcohol, you didn't had any kind of expectations about him, it still worth a try. "But there's this specific guy, i haven't taken my eyes off from him since I got here" You point to him and he waved for you, smiling again. "Oh, Kenny? The blonde one? He's a man whore, i could totally make it for you" When you hear her words, you started smiling automatically, Bebe looked at Wendy smirking. "And if you really want to know, he has also been keeping an eye on you since you stepped here, most people have been, but he in particular? He didn't take his eyes off you for a minute" Really? he seemed so out of my league! "Would you really do this to me? Thank you so much! I'll go grab another drink" You walked away from the girls, left your mojito glass on the bar table and asked for another one. The blonde boy you were interested in approaches you, the lights were reflecting at his hair and face. "Hey cutie, do i know you?"

"Well, not at all! I'm new here" You could barely hear his words, but you still answered "You're kind of my type, you know? Can I get you a drink? It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Kenny, and you are?" Kenny said, kissing your hand. He had such an intense look that I could spend hours looking without getting tired. "I'm Y.N and it's my pleasure." Looking deeply in your eyes, he just approached your face, staying a few inches away from your lips. "Should we go to somewhere else to know each other better?" God! He was so attractive, i could kiss him right now. "I have a better idea..." You push him and drag him to the dance floor, dancing wildly on him as he presses your waist, you take a quick look at Bebe and she gives you a wink, you knew exactly what you had to do. "You look so fucking hot" He approaches your lips and press it a kiss while the loud music plays, thus pinning you to the nearest wall and intensifying your kiss, he was definitely one of your best kisses, his hands roamed all over your body, squeezing your thighs and making you want more and more. Separating yourself only by shortness of breath, after a while kissing, you notice a boner in his pants. "Will you fix this?" You didn't answer him and you just holded his hand and took him to the bathroom, locking the door and making him sit on the toilet lid.

"Get on your knees, princess." You without stalling too much, did what he asked, he smiles eagerly, lowering his head to kiss you once more before reaching into his underwear and pulling out his hardened member. "Will you take it all?" You nodded with your head and his breath hitches sharply when you begin licking him. "Oh god..." He breathes heavily, running his fingers through your hair as you continue pleasuring him. He wasn't caring about people hearing him, he lets out an audible moan as you wrap your mouth around his shaft, sucking gently while stroking it slowly. You stand up and starts undressing yourself, taking off your dress and climbing on his lap. As you start moving, bouncing up and down on his erection, he moans loudly. "Fuck Y.N!" He grips your waist tightly, unable to control his movements as you ride him. "This feels amazing." He groans deeply, gripping your hips tighter as he thrusts upwards meeting each bounce of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly as he continues pounding away inside you. His breathing becomes heavier as sweat drips roll from his forehead. He smirks devilishly, pushing you off his lap and flipping you over onto your stomach. He pins your wrists above your head, pinning them in place with one hand while he slides himself back inside you with the other. "You like that, don't you? Being taken by me like this?" He leans down and begins to nibble on your neck, moaning deeply as he slides himself in and out, hard and fast, causing you to let out moans of pleasure each time he hits your g-spot. "That's it, let it out. Scream for me." He teases, to rubbing your clit slowly. He looks at you with an evil grin, knowing exactly what he has planned next. "I see... Someone is getting crazy with this big fat ass" He was looking into your eyes and squeezing your butt "Oh I am definitely getting crazy with your big fat ass" He growled seductively before capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every nook and cranny he could find. "Oh, I can feel that, Y.N. I can feel the heat radiating off of you. You're so turned on right now" He moved back slightly so he could look deep into your eyes. "Tell me how much you want me inside of you." He demanded playfully, pressing himself harder against you, he let go of one leg and grabbed both sides of your hips firmly, pulling you towards him forcefully. "Beg for it, sweetheart. Beg for what you need now." he commanded sternly, staring deeply into your eyes as he pushed himself inside of you. "Please Kenny, fuck me!" He smiles smugly, reaching around behind you and grabbing hold of your ass firmly. "Good girl." He begins rubbing himself against you slowly, enjoying every second of your reaction. So, he puts everything inside you at once, picking up the pace and slapping your ass. "F-Fuck Ken! I'm getting close!" He grabs your tits and plays with your nipples, making you moan louder and cum all over his dick. The feeling of your walls tightening around him makes him cum too. "Now, put on your clothes before they think we died here" he says, laughing and putting his clothes back too. "Hello, you pervs! We heard everything!" You come across Bebe and Wendy waiting for you at the bathroom door, you got into serious trouble.

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This is definitely shit, i hate this so much, I wrote in the form of thanks for the repercussion in my last posts, I love you! 💘

[replenaryindulgence]

Attention all Azriel girls, gays, and theys

Edit: Chapter 1 is up!

Hiii! I'm new here :) I've been lurking through tumblr and have seen so many gut-wrenching fanfics, I felt inspired to make my own. The Azriel fanfic Gods called to me and I am but a humble servant. Here's the details:

The main character's name is Calida, or Cal (or Cali if u crazy), a recent English grad who's camping with her friends when she suddenly finds herself in the ACOTAR universe. Honestly, the first chapter is like 5K words so strap in, this will be a long one. I'm hoping this fanfic will better my writing skills, so I'm going to try and flesh this thing out as much as I can. And I luv Az sooooo i’m having sm fun <3

I have an idea of where I want it to go but I’m still meddling through the finer details. I'm attempting to write the main character pretty nonspecific, so all can enjoy and feel included, but I do have an idea in my head of her looks (it’s mostly for myself let’s be honest). Feel free to ignore that aspect if you don't vibe with it. I haven't written much beyond this besides short stories and a few poems, so I'm open to all feedback! I'll be posting the first chapter soon.

I haven't been on tumblr in years, I feel like I'm back in my old stomping grounds. Glad we can rely on the love of fictional men to bring us together <3

[evispunk]

MEET THE CAMERONS

a/n: first chapters are normally super slow and are just to get you an introduction to the book, so if you don't like it, please give it a chance and read a little more. as a reader, i don't even like this chapter. this is where you can stop reading if you don't want to know a few things about me.

one - i've been watching outer banks and reading fics about it since 2020. i've gotten quite a feel for the characters and my own opinions and views on them. so of course, this may or may not be similar to other fics you have read, or maybe this is something entirely different! this will follow the plot of the show MAINLY. it will derive a few times and not exactly follow the timeline of the show but all of the events will happen.

two - i have been writing since i was twelve. my writing may not be your style or the best you've ever seen, but i'm proud of it and that's why i'm putting it out there for you to see. please do not critique me in the comments! save it for your therapist.

three - i'm a rafe defender sorry not sorry he's a baby

summary: violette and her parents head over to the cameron's, her parents' good friends, house for dinner where she meets sarah & wheezie for the first time, and rafe, whom she hasn't seen since they were in diapers. plot intro.

warnings: innocent little kook with no idea what she's in for

"ARE YOU ALMOST ready?" Matt called up the spiral staircase to his daughter, Violette. She huffed, unplugging her curling iron and brushing out her waves.

"Yes, Dad, just get in the car, I'll be down in a sec!" she yelled back, applying lip balm at the same time and switching the lights off. The brunette girl took one last look at herself in the hallway mirror, staring back at her smooth, cream-colored dress with knots that were tied into bows on the shoulder straps. Her black heels clicked against the stairs as she jogged down them, heading towards her parents' car.

"Oh, honey, you look beautiful." Violette's mother, Cecilia told her once she sat down in the back seat.

"Thank you, Mom." she smiled, buckling her seatbelt behind the driver's seat.

"Are you excited to see The Cameron's again? You haven't seen Rafe since you two were in diapers right before we moved." Cecilia said, turning to face her daughter.

"I guess. I'm a little nervous to meet his sisters though, I mean, what if they're the fake bitchy type?"

"Language, young lady." her father interrupted, pointing a finger into the rearview mirror as he turned left.

"I doubt that. I've never met Rose personally, but I've talked with her a few times and her and Ward are amazing parents. I'm sure they're really sweet." Violette's mother reassured her with a smile.

"What are their names again?" 

"Sarah and Eloise, but the little one is called Wheezie."

"Wheezie? Does she have asthma?" she returned, pulling her phone out from her black shoulder bag.

"No, just a nickname that stuck, I'm sure. Don't make that joke at dinner."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Violette smiled, unbuckling herself as the car halted to a stop in the Cameron's yard.

"Be on your best behavior, Vi." Matt instructed, locking the door and putting his keys into his pocket, next to his wallet.

Violette swung the gold chain of her shoulder bag over her left, and began walking up to the front door with her parents. Her mother lightly knocked three times on their large door, and stepped back, awaiting their response.

The door swung open abruptly, and the blond woman behind it smiled.

"Welcome! You must be Cecilia!" the woman Violette now knew as Rose hugged her mother, then looked at her father.

"Matt." he smiled, and hugged her too as she kissed his cheek.

"Rose." she returned, moving her attention to their daughter. "And you must be the wonderful Violette I have heard so much about," Rose continued, initiating another hug. "Wow, I have to say you smell great. What are you wearing?"

"Miss Dior." the girl replied, thanking her.

"I'll have to buy that one. Come on in, guys." she said, opening the door completely to let the Rhodes enter their home. "I'm just about done with supper, and Rafe is setting the table."

Violette looked around at the Camerons' house, taking in her expensive surroundings. Their home was even more elegant than hers, and they were considered to be almost filthy rich. It smelt quite clean, almost like a mix of fresh linen and salt air.

"Violette?" a voice called from beside her, and she whipped her head towards the sound to find a dirty blond girl standing there wearing a strapless, navy, crossfront bandeau top dress. "Hey, I'm Sarah. Rafe's sister." the girl smiled, taking a few steps towards Violette.

"Oh, hi. Sorry, you scared me, but it's nice to meet you. I love your dress."

"Thank you! I got it at this cute boutique downtown, you'll have to come shop with me sometime."

"I'd love to." Violette replied, looking at the Cameron girl some more. She noticed her wearing two necklaces, one smaller gold chain, and a longer necklace with an 'S' on it.

"Your heels are gorgeous, by the way." Sarah continued, silently urging Violette to walk with her.

"Givenchy."

"Wow. So, you're bougie."

"I like what I like. Of course, not everything is about a brand, but it sure can be."

"You know what, I get that. I don't really care as much, but, I can see why someone would." she smiled. "Oh, Wheeze." Sarah stopped in her tracks, almost catching the Rhodes girl off guard.

"Hm? Oh. Hi, what's your name?"

"Violette. I'm assuming you're Wheezie?"

"I don't know anyone else with that name." she responded with a laugh, her dark curls bouncing with it.

"Can't say I do either," Violette said, voice back to normal. "Hey, I've met pretty much everyone besides Rafe. Do you know where he's at?"

"Probably in the kitchen." the black-haired girl answered, standing up to join the two girls on their walk. "Come this way." The two newfound friends followed Wheezie through the hall until they reached the kitchen, finding Rafe and Ward sipping on their drinks while leaning against the island.

"Violette. How're you doing, sweetie?" the older Cameron smiled, meeting Violette halfway and hugging her.

"I'm doing well. And you?"

"Great, great. You remember Rafe." he pointed to his son, drink in hand.

"Just barely. I do remember a lot of him stealing my toys." she replied and Ward laughed, grabbing Rafe's shoulder. The blond teenager only dryly stared at Violette and drank from his glass.

"Yeah, that sounds like Rafe. I see you already met Sarah and Wheezie, hope they weren't too hard on you."

"Hey!" Wheezie defended herself from behind Violette, still standing next to a temporarily silent Sarah, "We're actually really nice, if you didn't notice."

"I'm sure that's what you think," Rafe commented, refilling his cup with Coke. Violette's gaze fell upon him, slightly taken aback by his arrogant demeanor.

"Rafe-"

"Supper's ready!" Rose called out from the next room over, and Rafe smirked to himself while Ward's face turned sour. His expression quickly recovered when he turned to the three girls and nodded towards the dining room, he and his son following.

"This looks delicious, Rose." Cecilia complimented, smoothing her long dress down as she took a seat at the table.

"Thank you. It's an old family recipe of Ward's." she smiled at the woman in return, setting her napkin on her lap.

"It's steak, Rose." Rafe rolled his eyes, scooting his chair in louder than necessary. 

"I think it looks and smells lovely," Ward interjected whilst giving his son 'the look', "Let's eat." he smiled. 

Violette walked into the kitchen and began stacking plates and cups, deciding to help Rose with the dishes as a thank you for the supper she undoubtedly spent hours cooking.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, honey. You can go talk with everyone else."

"That's okay, I like to help. Take it as a thank you for supper."

"Well then, I won't stop you," she agreed, turning back to the large sink, scrubbing and rinsing dishes before loading them into their stainless steel dishwasher. "So, Violette, do you have a boyfriend back on the mainland?"

"I don't, actually. I was seeing this one guy for a while, but he turned out to be a huge jerk, so I ended it. It was sad too, he was real cute." the young girl responded, heading over to the other side of the sink and using some of the water that had collected to rinse cups and silverware.

"Trust me, I've been there," Rose laughed. "I dated this one guy in high school, Thomas White. Turns out he was making out with guys the whole time we were dating." she continued, shaking her head.

"Whoa, talk about a plot twist."

"Tell me about it. You know, I never got to ask at dinner- what do your parents do for work again? I know your mother makes jewelry, I bought some from her."

"Yeah, she does. Um, my dad's a lawyer, actually."

"Have you ever got to say, 'My dad's a lawyer,'?" Rose chuckled lightly, switching off the sink and shutting the dishwasher door.

"Not yet, but it sure has crossed my mind a few times."

"Goodnight Mom," Violette said as her mother passed her bathroom whilst brushing out her wet hair.

"Night sweetie. Love you."

"I love you, too." 

Violette walked across the hallway to her bedroom and opened her closet door with the intention of finding pajamas to wear. She settled her mind on a ribbed mauve tank top, and loose white sweat shorts. After dropping her towel and changing, she slid on her beige fluffy socks and plaited her hair. Tomorrow she would explore the island after having been here for a week and only unpacking her house. 

"Alexa, play thunderstorm sounds."

[fabbyf1]

Hi!

I’m not sure of this is how to go about this correctly.

I’m not sure what your position is on others drawing inspiration/directly from your incredible fan fiction writing but, on Ao3 there is a fic called ❤️lestappen- One shorts💙 by lestapeeen. The most recent chapter (14) is very similar to the monza chapter of long live(twwct) specifically the piggy back and proposal promise. some of the dialogue is exactly the same.

I figured you should know. If it’s a cool with you or if you knew already, sorry to be a bother.

DISCLAIMER: This post, by no means, is asking for ANYBODY to send this author mentioned (and tagged) below hate. On anon or main. I have been pretty damn clear with my feelings on the matter below. They know what they've done, and I won't stand for it. Nobody needs to make this worse by sending them death threats. With that out of the way, let's deep dive, shall we?

YOU KNOW WHAT?

First off, god bless you, bestie. God BLESS you. I want to smooch you on your incredibly wonderful forehead. Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention. I cannot be everywhere at once and cannot possibly read every fanfic posted to AO3, but it's not fucking cool for people to straight-up plagiarize my shit.

Secondly, I'd like to ask that if ANY of my followers come across something that looks very suspiciously similar to my fics, please let me know. You can for sure send it on anon, or send me a dm.

Now, with that being said, I clicked on this fucking fic not knowing what to think. I went into it with a pretty open mind, knowing that there are quite a few authors currently posting fics that are verrrrrrrrrrry similar to my writing style. I've gotten pretty close to calling a few of these authors out but haven't for a few reasons.

Fanfics based on the same ship, in the same canon setting, are always going to be... let's use the word "similar" here. The plot can only change so much when you're following canon events, you know? I don’t write AUs, so I’m only going off canon-inspired fics. My fics generally follow along with canon timelines and therefore, other author’s fics that follow the same timeline are going to be... similar. I get that and accept that.

Characterizations are bound to be... well, fuck it, let's use that word "similar" again. I'm gonna be pretty forgiving when someone's Max is damn near the same as my Max because one: I'm a good and forgiving person, and two: I think my characters (while totally fucking fictional) are very life-like to the real person. So, with that in mind, when I read a fic with characterizations similar to mine... I will usually give somebody grace... and accept that maybe, just possibly, they see Max Verstappen (the person) the same way I do (fictionally) and it’s a big old coincidence that our fics read so similar. You know? Does that make sense?

But with all that being said, I’m not a fucking idiot. 

And honestly? I give more grace than I should on this goddamn website. (lmfao, respectfully.) This is sadly not the first time that somebody has very much written in my likeness, and I know it won't be the last. But this is definitely the boldest version of plagiarism I've seen. I haven’t clicked on any chapter except for 14, and I heavily skimmed the first part, but let’s take a little deep dive into some of the highlights. Because I will show the receipts, bestie.

from their story:

from long live:

..... right, let's move on.

from their story:

from long live:

okay................. sure

from their story:

from long live:

If you're going to plagiarize my shit... you could at least put it in a different font, so to speak. "Hey, can I copy your homework?” “Sure, but change it up a bit.” 

Girlie pop, you stopped even trying to change it the fuck up. 

Let me be clear: I do not authorize anybody to translate, re-post or distribute my work without my written consent. This is in a disclaimer (that I will post below) in every single one of my fics. Taking MY dialogue is NOT okay. 

Direct quote from the beginning note of Long Live:  DISCLAIMER #4: This is 100% fictional, and I do not own any person, team, or sponsor referenced in this story. I mean no offense to any person(s) mentioned and characterized in this story. I am not affiliated with any part of Formula 1 or its subsections. Please do not translate, re-post, or distribute my work without my written consent. I will cry.

To sum up, writing is not easy, and it takes time and effort. Time away from my friends, my girlfriend, my family. Time away from my job and my other hobbies. Long Live is 76 thousand words and took me countless hours to write.

To have somebody so blatantly and disrespectfully post MY SHIT as their own and not even try to give me credit? To not write a note that said, “Heyyyyy go read long live, which I [clearly] really enjoyed!” or even a “Some of this dialogue was inspired by @fabbyf1” or even just a “lmfao some of this i didn’t write but the rest i did” really pisses me off.

Why did it ever have to come to this?

I am SO disappointed right now.

Happy fucking Friday, I guess.

For full transparency, here is the link to their fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55255699 and here is the link to their tumblr: @l-estappen

Here is the link to MY fic, which was posted on April 2nd, 2023, and written in Google Docs with revision history about a month before that. I have receipts out the fucking ass, my dear. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46190509/chapters/116284915

Be well.