#this is a problem that plagues me everywhere i go

[wiklm]

another crossover im DEVASTATED that basically nobody has harnessed rhe potential of. x files/gravity falls. COME ONNNNMNN

[foldingfittedsheets]

I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.

Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.

I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.

The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.

My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.

But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.

Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.

I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.

The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.

I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.

This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”

I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.

Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”

Terms were agreed.

The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.

“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”

Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”

“I have never been more serious.”

“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”

“No. You promised.”

With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.

I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Needle Little Love | Charles Leclerc x Ferrari! Reader

Summary: When you’re announced as Ferrari’s newest driver, fans love the budding friendship between you and Charles, especially when he adopts your penchant for crochet puns. Netflix expose that there’s more to the story. 

Warnings: Slightly suggestive content. Swearing. Fluff

2023-2024 timeline. Pinterest pics.

Requested: Yes by @rebelwrites. Find the full request here

A/N: There's a blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

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its_ynln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, olliebearman and others 

its_ynln chronicles of yarnia 🧶

1,609 comments 

francisca.cgomes okay but i’m gonna need that top in all colours please

→ its_ynln let me get your measurements at zandvoort 

user1 what is charles doing here

→ its_ynln i’m plagued by his brother and we both like to go zoom?

→ arthur_leclerc just for that, i’m not coming to your celebration party in zandvoort. i’ll go party with charles

→ its_ynln don’t want you there anyway 

→ oscarpiastri @/charles_leclerc the girls are fighting again 

→ user2 i love how they’re just assuming she’ll win 

lilymhe i love my pillow! thank you thank you thank you 🌼

→ alex_albon she literally carries it everywhere and i’m not allowed to touch it 

user3 we love how racing is just her side hobby 

jackdoohan day 116 of asking you to make me my own dinosaur 

→ its_ynln i can make a voodoo doll of you if you don’t stop pestering me

→ jackdoohan i’ll be glad when you’re gone

→ user4 gone where! 

→ user5 well she is currently leading the f2 championship, and they won't let her back 

user6 drop the patterns please, babe

user7 i love how half the people here are because of her crochet, not because she drives

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f1 just posted

liked by ferraridriveracademy, oscarpiastri and others 

f1 welcome to the team @/its_ynln we look forward to seeing you on the grid in the new year 

5,533 comments

its_ynln what can i say, it’s knot just another hobby

→ user8 babe, stick to crochet. stand up comedy is not for you 

ferraridriveracademy take good care of our girl 

→ scuderiaferrari thanks for letting us have her

charles_leclerc welcome to the team 😄

→ user9 why is this the blandest welcome ever 

→ user10 someone feels threatened

→ arthur_leclerc *trying to contain his excitement

francisca.cgomes this is the best news ever. will you teach me to crochet?

→ pierregasly because stealing my girlfriend over summer break wasn’t bad enough?

→ its_ynln are you still salty that she let me touch her boobs

→ user11 i know it was to measure her chest for clothes but still.. 

scuderiaferrari are we going to have to pr train you? @/its_ynln

→ liamlawson30 yes

→ alex_albon yes 

→ jackdoohan yes

→ its_ynln why am i being attacked by twice the amount of people now? 

arthur_leclerc thank god she’s not my problem anymore 

→ its_ynln i’ll always be your problem, little leclerc 

→ oscarpiastri oh fuck, she’s my problem now

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and others  

charles_leclerc winter break spent somewhere sunny  

2,316 comments

scuderiaferrari come back, we miss you 

user1 um, whose hand is he reaching for in that first pic 

→ user2 idk but we should be saying thank you for dressing him in that shirt 

its_ynln is your skin ferrari red yet 

→ charles_leclerc no, i keep getting slathered in sun cream :(

→ arthur_leclerc factor 50? 

→ user3 i love that she’s bullying him before she’s even been his teammate on track

user4 this shirt looks similar to one yn posted a few weeks ago??

→ user5 and the hat!!

→ user6 omg how cute would it be if charles was asking her to crochet him some clothes 

→ user7 we love a supportive teammate

landonorris rocking the bucket hat, mate. think i can get one in papaya? 

→ charles_leclerc i’ll hook you up

oscarpiastri i miss you, dad

→ its_ynln i’m not babysitting next year. just putting that out there ahead of time 

→ charles_leclerc not even if i ask nicely?

→ its_ynln maybe if you let me win

→ charles_leclerc 🤔🤨

user8 why are we skipping past the sneaky soft launch?

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2024

“You know, we both have driver’s rooms for this sort of thing,” you breathed, giggling when Charles’ facial hair tickled your neck. 

His mouth sucked gently on the pulse point thrumming beneath his tongue, tracing kisses from your ear down to your collarbone. The stack of worn tyres cushioned your back as he pressed your harder against them when you reached around to pinch his backside. 

“Oi, I’m talking to you.” 

“I’m sorry, mon ange, but you looked so good when you were giving that interview. And you kept laughing-”

“Oh, so it’s not that I’m so irresistible that you couldn't wait until we were safely in the garage. It’s that you were jealous.” You raised an eyebrow at him, unable to fight the smile at his rougish grin. 

“You are irresistible,” he murmured, hands snaking around your waist to pull you flush against him. “Why else would I be making out with you in an alley behind the motorhome?”

“Because you’re a horndog.” 

You and Charles had been dating for the past year, having met after he caught you winding up his younger brother one race weekend. Ferrari had been eyeing you up all year, asking the Monagesque what he thought of you, prompting him to pay closer attention. Prior to you signing your contract, you’d had to disclose your relationship to Fred Vasseur. Whilst the senior members of the team were aware of your more-than-teammates status, the majority of the paddock were in the dark. Both of you wished to keep the relationship under wraps until your rookie year in F1 had passed, reducing speculation that Charles was the only reason you got your seat. Sneaking around the motorhome was a lot safer than making out behind tyre stacks, but Charles didn’t care at this moment in time. 

“You going to be nice and let me win today?” He teased, nibbling at your lower lip. 

“I think you mean, am I going to let you massage my feet after I win? I won here last year.”

“Yes, yes, bow down to you.”

“Well, I do like you on your knees.” 

Grinning, Charles captured your lips with his once more. Tongue swiping against your bottom lip, he groaned against you when your tongue met his. Hands snaking into his hair, you tugged gently on the soft strands, enjoying the whimper you pulled from his lips. He tilted his hips, pressing himself against you. 

“The things you do to me.”

A loud cough - more of a throat clearing - tore the two of you apart. Wide eyed and panting, you both turned in horror to look at the misfortune person who stumbled across you. Fred Vasseur stood at the end of the alleyway, shaking his head at his two drivers. It was bad enough watching them make heart eyes at each other during data reviews but this. Behind him stood a cameraman and a mic guy, mouths agape at their luck. Drive to Survive would be flooded with viewers once they teased this. Breaking News: Ferrari drivers caught locking lips in secret tryst. 

“I’ve got Netflix following me around today.” Fred said bluntly, staring you both down. 

“Oh crap.”

“Yeah.” 

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next day

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by its_ynln, arthur_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc you could say we’re a close knit bunch

4,416 comments

its_ynln i fell for you hook, yarn and stitcher 

user8 not charles adopting her crochet puns 

jackdoohan so he gets a toothless keychain and i still don’t get my dinosaur? 

→ liamlawson30 that’s because he’s sleeping with her

→ jackdoohan if that’s the price...

scuderiaferrari finally. we were getting sick and tired of archiving all the pics we took of you both being cute. now we can post! 

→ arthur_leclerc please don’t. it’s bad enough seeing it in person for the past two years. i don’t want it on my timeline

→ user9 two years! they’ve been together two years! 

alex_albon can’t believe you posted a photo of her in a nice dress and didn't even give her photo creds

→ its_ynln he’s intimidated by my raw talent 

→ oscarpiastri i watched you flip over the handles of your bike the other day 

→ its_ynln raw talent

→ charlesleclerc @/its_ynln when was this? why didn’t you tell me? are you okay? 

georgrussell63 did she beat you?

→ charles_leclerc i let her win

→ landonorris yeah, you’ve been saying that all season, mate

→ its_ynln you got a nice consolation price out of it tho

→ arthur_leclerc ew!

user10 i love that charles has posted this and yn hasn’t mentioned anything about him lol 

→ user11 her entire insta is the two sides of her personality; car and yarn. can't have a man ruining the aesthetic

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A huge thank you to @rebelwrites for the request. I hope this lives up to expectations

Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my Masterlist :)

[autisticsupervillain]

Autistic Avatars not realizing that they're Avatars because they're just "like that": a thread

The Eye

Special Interest in the supernatural = constant food for The Watcher

You know about Interest? TELL ME EVERYTHING

"Hey man listen to me infodump about this horrifying ghost story I read for twenty minutes, alright?"

I need to Know everything about something before I partake in it.

"How did I Know that? Eh, I probably hyperfixated on it at some point."

I cannot be misunderstood so I'll beam the facts into your brain.

The Web

I must plan everything 200 steps in advance before doing anything.

I have prepared for all possible outcomes, I can now have this one conversation.

If I set up all these variables long in advance, then I can do everything correctly and Win the social interaction.

I cannot do anything before The Plan says to.

"I practice my social skills by talking to my spider friends." -Martin "Autism" Blackwood

The Stranger

I cannot socialize without being Uncanny.

If my socialization seems like an act, that's because it is. I practice it in the mirror every day.

Theater Kid

How do you Normal Human?

The Anatomy Class.

Assuming fellow Stranger Avatars also just have the 'Tism. They're not trying to be creepy, honest.

Can't do faces. Doesn't notice when you get replaced.

Being subtly off is too subtle for me.

The Lonely

"I have failed the social interaction. Let the fog reclaim me."

Talking to people is draining my batteries even faster than ever. I need to be alone for approximately 384,400,000 years.

Nothing can overstimulate me in the cool, blinding fog.

Nothing unpredictable can happen in the fog.

The fog is your friend.

The known connection between autism and depression feeds the fog.

The Dark

Why is the sun so god damn bright? I'm going to blow it up I swear.

Night Owl.

Everything's decently quite at night and people leave you alone.

Same overstimulation preventatives as the Lonely tbh. Dark and fog are good concealers.

The dawn is your enemy.

The dread florescent lights shall never bother me again. They break upon my arrival.

Can and will infodump to the monster under my bed. Even now it feels like it listens.

The Spiral

Autism makes getting other mental illnesses recognized hard.

Autism dissociation from body and mind. When did it become 3 AM and why do I hurt? Why am I grumpy? What vital self care task did I forget?

Literal mind doesn't often match reality. Reality is specifically unspecific.

Spaced out and wandered off. Where the fuck am I?

I'm not a mental baby, please stop treating me like it.

I'm not inherently dangerous, please stop treating me like it.

Memory problems my beloathed. Did that happen? I dunno.

What Is Time?

What Is Me?

The Gender

Why do things only make sense to me? What does no one else make sense?

The Flesh

Autism Genderfuckery = Flesh fueled dysphoria.

Meat is the only texture that's palatable. Especially the Mystery Meat.

Will never try any other foods. Too picky.

Infodumps about the horrors of meat processing at dinner and ruins the meal for everyone. More steak for me.

Hates PETA.

Double the arms means double the stim. You weren't using them, right?

Working out is a great stim.

The Corruption

Practices social interaction with the bugs who live in my walls.

"Insects are disgusting. I love them!"

Will protect endangered insects by any means necessary.

According to all known laws of aviation-

Relationship boundaries struggles.

Difficulty noticing sickness symptoms.

Is that nausea or am I overstimulated? *Accidentally causes supernatural plague outbreak*

Difficulty getting diseases diagnosed because of both Autism and noticing too many symptoms so the doctors assume they're faking.

Forgot vital hygiene needs.

The Bugs Are My Friends! They keep me company when I'm sick!

The Buried

Weighted blankets are insufficient, I need the Earth to reclaim me.

Avoid social interaction by tunneling everywhere like a mole.

101 facts about worms.

Forgor hygiene again. Time to become dirt.

Digging a hole is good stimming.

That guy who had to be buried alive to sleep properly. What do you mean you don't want to be buried?

The End

Aradia Megido from Homestuck.Com

That's it, that's the list.

The Desolation

The Autism Temper.

Losing relationships and friendships to ableism and your own disability constantly.

The Fire is a wonderful stim board. Watch it crinkle.

Just watching candles melt for hours.

The fire and thrill gives my life passion again.

Jude Perry.png

The Vast

Accidentally terrifying people by infodumping about the horrors of nature.

The stimulus of falling.

Nature/Space/Weather Documentary on in background always.

Okay, but from how high did you fall? I want to calculate your velocity as you fell through the void.

Weirdly enough... power scaling?

Power scaling is just the art of determining how easily your favorite characters can destroy mankind so... yeah, I can see it.

Brain empty, only terminal velocity.

The Hunt

Cat Autism

The inherent hyperfocus of the hunt. The chase. Your prey.

Studying the habits of your latest hyperfixation/Hunt assigned prey for days at a time.

I've spent so much time hunting in the woods that I forgot about human society. The Missing Person's Bureau have written you off for dead.

Returning to society to sell your wears and realizing you aren't human anymore.

That's okay. Social interaction is random. The Hunt makes sense.

It's black and white. Predator and prey. Humans hunting monsters. It Makes Sense.

The Slaughter

The incredible human WW1 documentary.

"Did you know?" *Describes horrible historic warcrime*

Takes apart puts back together guns from their collection.

The list of known casualties from this war is incomplete. With my help, they can expand it. :)

The Extinction

The world is spiraling towards its end and only you seem to care.

It hurts to be this passionate about a lost cause.

You Will Make Them Care.

[sunboki]

⎯ CHRISTMAS BLUES a Hwang Hyunjin fiction

🎄 : Hwang Hyunjin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, reader is a writer, one bed au, forced proximity au, hyunjin is an artist(not mentioned a ton), coincidences

WORD COUNT. 7.3k words ☆ 40 minute read

WARNINGS. cursing, angst galore, mention of sex (non desc.), breakup, hurt feelings, making up, mentions of getting drunk

AUG'S NOTES. this is a stupidly lovestruck hallmark christmas mindset talking, whatever you read below is definitely not me… definitely. anyway, happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, initially planned to be a smau, then a fic!! hope this fic exceeds your expectations, feel free to leave a reblog or comment of your thoughts!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. You thought getting a call from Hyunjin was the last thing you needed during the holidays, but when he reminds you of your non-refundable tickets to Paris you had booked seven months prior to your earth-shattering breakup, you realize that his call was the least of your problems.

or alternatively :

Just a week over Christmas with your ex in Paris, what could go wrong?

Every circumstance has a question that goes along with it.

How did I get so lucky? Why did you leave?

As for yours, it’s fairly simple.

Where did we go wrong?

December 18th – Seoul, South Korea.

Holding onto what could’ve been is stupid, you agreed upon that mindset a long time ago. However, the past, Him being the past, lingered around you like the scent of citrus still clinging beneath your fingernails even after washing your hands. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And no matter how hard you tried to erase the memories of what was, they served their memory purpose and disfigured your mind all the same.

And so, you replaced it.

Replaced the hurt, the searing burn, with someone else. Who turned into someone else, and someone else after that till the only thing sufficing any weekly relationship was a no-strings attached notion.

Until you met Seungmin.

He was your vice, the person dragging you out of your self-made hole of false sanctuary and safety. He laid all his flaws on the table, showed himself to you. Seungmin was gentle and kind, he was patient— more patient than anyone else in this world— and loving. Oh so loving.

But behind your undying affection for your boyfriend, he saw something you didn’t. Perhaps in your eyes, perhaps in your soul, bared to him on an onslaught of occasions.

Longing.

He saw longing in your treasured hues, longing for someone that wasn’t him.

Because some scars take longer to fade away, but yours hadn’t even begun to heal. Masked with his many layers of band-aids only to never staunch the cut, the one Hwang Hyunjin left on you.

“Seungmin I’m so sorry—“

“You love him, I know,” He nods his head, a sad, soft smile holding place on his lips.

Tonight was the night he officially talked about it. The unforgivable thought continuing to incessantly plague his mind.

Although, he didn’t regard you sourly for it. That connection you had with Hyunjin was something no other person could return nor deliver, and he had to accept that if he really loved you.

If Seungmin really loved you, he wanted the best for you, even if that meant the best were when you weren’t with him.

You were shocked when he brought up the matter, asked if you really missed him, asked if you still loved him. Yes, you had of course discussed your previous relationship, but never to this extent, never so blatantly.

Though the absolute kindness in both his tone and the way he looked at you, seated at the dinner table, kept you from lying.

It’s not fair. Not fair for Seungmin, your boyfriend, to have to take responsibility for your tormented feelings. But here he is, assuring you nevertheless.

Because he’s known. He knew from the start you weren’t over Hyunjin. Knew that, despite so much ache and anguish he caused, your heart can’t help but beat at his pace, fruitlessly connected.

And he knew in the end things would fall apart just like this, and his spot as a placeholder would fall apart along with it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“He hurt you, but you love Hwang Hyunjin, I know.” He whispers, fingers tightly twined beneath the table. There’s a sort of hiccuping sound bubbling up from your throat. You stave it down.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiles, smiles when you don’t deny it, reaching forward for your trembling hands to take in his own.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N. I’m not the one you’ll be happy with though.”

A soft squeeze before he rises and curves to where you sit, free-flowing tears threatening to cascade past glossy eyes.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest wracking with unfiltered sobs. Guilty. Guilt is devouring your soul. You don’t deserve Seungmin, nor does he deserve to be hurt so cruelly by someone he loves. But here you are, ruining him.

He’d never admit it, but the pain in his eyes—the ones you’ve stared at countless times—will always remain evident. No amount of smiling or laughing can hide that.

Pulling back while your arms stayed hooked upon his shoulders, you savor the kiss he places on your lips, the ones he delicately pressed to each of your wrists.

Sad. It’s a sad kiss. A kiss that causes your entire body to wilt against him, crashing deeper and deeper into his warmth, his comfort. He’s not false, he’s real. A real, unadulterated love you’re undeserving of.

Guilty.

“If you’re happy,” He breathes, leaning in to land gentle pecks all over your face, forehead connecting with your own. “I’ll be okay.”

December 20th – Seoul, South Korea.

Your room is still exactly as it has been. Pillows faced the same way, sheets still tousled and hanging halfway off the bed. Hell, he hasn’t even touched the blinds — staying open throughout countless nights, your perfume lingering.

Like he was afraid his touch would break apart what he had left of you.

He hopes, swallowing down the remainder of wine in his glass, you’ll be able to look back and laugh at what used to be, find the matter childish and ridiculous.

What you used to be.

Lovers.

Not kids anymore, you taught him once before. You also taught him how deep a love could be. There’d always be a space for you here, just as you left it. Although, he doubts you’d come back. In fact, you’ve probably moved on with your life. Found someone else to fill the space he did.

But maybe, if he keeps the room as it was for long enough, your room; if Hyunjin keeps those tiny paper notes you wrote for him long enough, you would come back.

What a lie.

Wishful thinking takes you far then drops you into festering despair over and over, he’s learned this the hard way.

Starting with a text.

He blinked once, then twice, then three times—picking apart his brain in order to recollect anything, any details whatsoever that could decipher this random message on a Monday morning.

Paris.

Paris?

Paris.

It hits him, evidently.

Immediately clutching his head and simultaneously slapping an aghast hand over his mouth, a sensation recognizable as utmost horror obliterates his soul into pieces, quite literally rocking his world.

Months ago, he remembered.

You’d been stupid, you’d been drunk, and impulsively booked the tickets, laughing off the “no refunds” reminder as if nothing would’ve ever happened.

It did though. And now he’s dealing with the karma in return for that idiotic decision. Soon enough you both will.

Non refundable tickets to Paris, two days from now, together.

What were the chances?

Blindly tapping his password into his phone, he (just as blindly) jams his finger to the first caller he sees, who turns out to be Minho, seeming like both a blessing and a curse in unison.

Never before had Hyunjin so clearly lost his mind and control of his words, but there’s always a first time for everything, right?

“Minho, what the hell am I supposed to do? She hates me and the flight is booked two days from now. This is just.. Fuck!” Hyunjin pours, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, burying his head into the leather as if that would magically make his endless desperation disappear.

He didn’t usually curse, so when he did, whatever had happened was serious. He carried his words elegantly, proficiently.

He'd be the last picked candidate for elegance right about now.

“If I were Chan I would’ve said you should still try talking to her about it, but in my opinion that wouldn’t change a thing. So suck it up Hwang, it can’t be that bad.”

Ah. Remind me why I ever decided to call you hoping for advice.

‘Hwang’ was the name his friend had reserved for him, coming from a long line of tissues in the mouth and other ways Minho would pick fun at the blonde. But he was at least trying to help, somewhat.

How he got himself into this situation is honestly laughable, situation being your nasty breakup and a plane to Paris.

Great. Paris is great, right? Wrong.

Because this stupid, stupid trip to Paris isn’t one he’s going on alone to enjoy the sights and delicacies there, it’s one with you, the girl who ripped his heart in half two months ago. The trip you’d planned while you were still head-over-heels, not hating his guts.

Oh, and your tickets were nonrefundable. Couldn’t forget about that part.

“.. What am I gonna do?”

“Suck it up, duh.”

“And please enlighten me on how the hell I'm supposed to ‘suck it up’ in a plane seat right next to her for thirteen hours and spend every day glued to the hip, your honor.”

The mental picture of Minho’s fraud-innocent face through the line grated his nerves like nothing else. Brows lifted, mouth slightly open. He wanted to punch that imaginary face so badly right now.

"Then follow Chan’s tutorial on making it up to your now-ex. You asked me for my opinion, and you got it. Look, all I’m saying is this is a good chance to get some level ground between you two, even if you still fly back hating each other—"

“I don’t hate her,” Hyunjin quickly quips.

Honestly, truthfully, he doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you and he doubts he ever will. You were the one responsible for years upon years of the best moments of his life, how could he hate you for that?

Although, by the way you looked at him that night, he doubts your response would be the same.

Minho sighs.

"Even better, you could fly back with her hating you slightly less."

For once the snarky man he was spilling his problems to had provided decent reason, it was terrifying.

From a spectators point of view, his utter fit had to be quite a sight. For the record, witnessing thee calm and collected Hwang Hyunjin go insane in his car wasn’t a sight you’d see on a regular day.

But today wasn’t a regular day. Instead, it was the day he found himself trapped in a loophole of love and war with his ex.

What were the chances?

There’s no book that could wholly describe Hyunjin.

Even as a writer yourself, not even Shakespeare could depict him to the full extent. He’s flawless but so flawed, kind and yet malicious in terms of his brilliantly unfair beauty.

Every day you run into Hwang Hyunjin. The first few times, you called it coincidence, told yourself his meeting happened to be at the same time, maybe he was headed to a neighboring coffee shop.

Well, before those few days turned into every day on your commute.

And when a breakup is as nasty as yours was, it’s not too refreshing constantly seeing your ex on the daily afterward.

Today, Hwang Hyunjin is wearing a tan trench coat that reaches down to his knees. He’s wearing the same tennis shoes as always (except his usual camera is absent from the picture), and his hair is pulled up, soft, sandy strands framing either side of his face. He stands on the other side of the crosswalk, occupied with his phone while you internally ridicule him.

Staring daggers into his frame, the frigidly cold beverage in hand doesn’t aid in warming up chilling temperatures burning your fingertips, signs of winter’s impending approach.

He looks up.

You avert your gaze to your shoes. You can feel his eyes on you; feel them traveling over your body, then to your face, boring into your skull. He’s waiting, watching.

And somehow, you know you’ll eventually have to make eye contact. Because on your normal route, your turn left on Harrison street, then right on Fords. He’s there. Unbelievably, wildly, he’s there.

It’s the one factor in your (almost) perfect life without him that makes things hell.

Back then, you were like clockwork. Not a minute going by without someone being awake. You taking a nap after spending two hours searching synonyms on Thesaurus, Hyunjin just waking up, heading out with his signature Canon camera loosely hung around his neck.

Two perfect oppositions leaving their cluttered love scattered all over a cheap apartment.

For Hyunjin, it was the mug you’d gotten him last christmas labeled in bold font: “ART WHORE”, while yours was an equally degrading “SHE WOULD RATHER FUCK THE MEN IN HER BOOKS” sticker print slapped on the back of your laptop.

Little did you know you’d be desperately scraping the sticker off seven months later, that you’d leave your chapter unfinished since breaking up and that he had likely thrown away that mug.

Or maybe not. Maybe he painted over it, scribbled it out and somehow made it look good. Hyunjin has a way of making anything catastrophic look pretty.

You, on the other hand, are an erupting volcano. One that cries its lava onto the earth and doesn’t leave a pretty photograph. One that froths and rumbles, and destroys things as it goes.

Perfect opposites, exactly.

Now for the real question, the monumental “where did we go wrong” part that served as an explanation.

Three little words.

I love you.

You lied.

Those are big words, big words for somebody. Big words for yourself, words you spoke to Hwang Hyunjin, looped in his apartment, making love on the couch.

Big words he didn’t return.

Big words that kept your heart stilled in your chest, left your lips blue, drowned as you collected your discarded clothes off the floor.

And you left.

You didn’t need the awkward silence, the “let me think about it”, the bullshit they spouted Kissing-Booth-style. You needed him, his reassurance when you were your most vulnerable. His three words that told you your three years together weren’t one sided, not wordlessly confessed through actions though too scared to say aloud – a feared incantation.

Words he never said. Because you did love Hwang Hyunjin, so much it consumed you into his favorite muse, him your inspiration. Then came the doubt. The recollection of your favorite, dearest moments. Was it all a lie?

Those hour-long seconds, tangled on his sofa, kept that incessant anxiety alive.

You thought you found the one when your drunk night didn’t turn into an orgasm you can’t remember, but rather being coaxed into a warm shower despite your complaining about your pants being too tight.

Somehow, you can still feel his tender kisses like a ghost of a presence, littering the skin of your shoulder instead of the sloppy alcohol ridden ones you’d known before, and for once you had woken up beside the person responsible — not to a note saying they had to leave early.

He was the one responsible for teaching you how to paint, propping you in his lap, hand guiding your own while tracing careful strokes on the canvas. It was hardly possible sitting on his stool together, though neither of you noticed (nor cared), too busy savoring the intimacy of the moment.

That was Hyunjin. He was the glass of water placed in front of you after one too many at happy hour. He was the relaxing bath when everything hurt, the shoulder to cry on.

But you were mistaken. He wasn’t the one. Seungmin was the one, the one you had left behind only to chase after a toxic remedy.

In fact, Hyunjin never was the one.

And it fucking hurt remembering that.

December 21st - 22nd – Seoul, South Korea.

The last news you’d anticipated slammed into you like a bus.

Cozied up at your desk, a number pops up on your screen, interrupting the one moment of silence you managed to enjoy. Most people didn’t call during your work hours, except Seungmin, who, for the record, called before work.

The number you’d memorized by heart was not normal either.

Him.

“Before you curse at me,” He begins, and your hand hesitantly hovers over the call button, jaw clenched beyond reason, silence shouting loud. No strength in your bones allowed you to reply. Was it fear, hatred? Both most likely.

Taking the time to continue, his silky tone lulls along the line.

“Do you remember the tickets?”

Hatred seemed the dominant factor.

“What are you talking about?” You rhetorically snap, obviously annoyed albeit confused.

Tickets? It’s been three months, why the hell are tickets the first thing he’s mentioning?

He sighs. “The tickets to Paris. You remember, don't you?”

It takes you a moment, then, aha.

How could you forget? The tip of the iceberg of what two naive, lovestruck idiots thought would be forever. Little did they know everything would slip past their fingertips.

”Well um, did you know they’re non-refundable?”

Huh.

“WHAT?!”

You’d just managed to convince yourself free of Hyunjin, but he simply dragged you further into his labyrinth.

Or so you thought.

You had grown since he broke you (with the help of your better-ex, Seungmin). You evolved better (or so you told yourself). So out of the plentiful lessons you’d learned during your reflection, the factor that stuck with you most was that nobody is there to pick up for you. No matter how much you think they will.

You swore yourself into the belief Hyunjin would mend you, but you lived blind to the truth that he was just as broken as you were, a dog chasing its tail.

And so, you dealt with it.

In ways.

Whether that was incessantly talking to yourself, fanatically checking the date, contacting Felix on the verge of tears for him to laugh and then attempt at consoling your doom, or googling the best ways to run away from your predicament, fate had it out for you.

A disgustingly impertinent, unfairly fair fate.

Packing wasn’t all too stressful, unless you count trying on an entire entourage of outfits descending from dinner to snow-attire, then focusing on simple.

And it really shouldn’t have been so awful getting into your car, nonetheless waking up to realize today was the dreaded day, but it was, and you seriously deserved an award for the amount of times you checked your clock.

Although, you at least expected to have a little bit of time before having to face him again. Talking and interacting, not just drilling holes into his head. Little bit of time as in, a few years at least.

You were wrong.

Not the first time that’s happened.

“Hi Hyunjin.”

Answering his awaiting call with unsteady pitch, your eyes immediately gravitate to the blond-haired man. Taller in stature, leaning against a nearby pillar by your gate, staring directly at you.

Never had it felt so terrifying.

“Hey.”

You hesitate, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re speaking to a few meters away.

“Are we…Are we doing this again?”

He’s solemn. He’s not the same. Different.

“I don’t know. You decide for me.”

Never for a second does your gaze stray to his lips that barely move as he utters the line. Not the same either.

Before, you’d always been mesmerized by his lips. Then he’d notice and tease you prior to delivering the long-awaited kiss, again and again till you were breathless and your head became dizzy.

But this wasn't before; this is now, filled with grudges and sourness.

“You know I can’t make big decisions.”

That isn’t him. Isn’t the Hyunjin who would always provide endless tips and support, opinions unable to be held back without duct tape.

“Because you don’t want to get hurt knowing we chose this?” He whispers, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to bleed.

“Because I want better for us.”

“Y/n,” He sadly laughs, and your name rolling off his tongue sends an ache clawing your chest. It’s humorless, bitter in his throat.

“There is no us, only you and me, remember? So who do you want better for?”

There’s no twinkle in his eyes or his charming smile, it’s dry and painful, like he’d been crying.

You don’t want to think about that.

“Tell me something, okay?” Holding your phone to your ear with an iron grip, you slowly inhale through your nose, sparing a fleeting glance to the floor.

“Anything.”

“If I cry, will you hug me?”

“Do you want that?”

Question after question. He reaches in further, ripping out pieces of your soul with each inquiry. Stupid, sure. But genuine, all the way from the shrouded depths of your mind did you ask.

Of course you want that, want what’s so bad for you. No strength can make you admit it.

He knows the answer.

You hang up the call, fiddling around with your suitcase prior to wheeling the blundering thing over and ensuring you find a comfy spot out of Hyunjin’s sight.

Only five minutes of talking and you already feel as if your body is splintering into little pieces he’ll arrange into the perfect puzzle, ideal and pleasing.

He won’t. Not anymore he won’t.

And in that stead you’ll remain shattered.

What a shame.

Now boarding Group Five. All passengers in Group Five are welcome to board.

The hailing announcement earns a muffled groan through your mask, begrudgingly rising to your feet while directing your attention solely upon the bridge and your tightly held boarding pass. Luckily, Incheon International Airport isn’t half as hectic as you anticipated, but you have a gnawing feeling Paris will have a lot more to say.

Truth be told, you thank every lesson on task focus you once deemed useless as you shuffle among Paris-goers to find your seat.

One that obviously had to be right by Hwang Hyunjin.

“How’s you and Seungmin?” He fixes the length of his headphones, sparing a quick look at you while speaking. You despise how easy he treats this, how easy he’s treating everything at the moment.

Unfortunately, booking this hell-on-earth back when either of you were in your demented fantasy-land meant sitting beside each other also, in assigned seats.

Cupid really needs to give up by now.

You grunt beside him, uttering a hushed, “We broke up.”

Tilting his head, Hyunjin presses his face closer, craning. Close enough that you hold your phone up as a barrier, shrinking away nearer to the window.

“…Who broke up with who?”

Asshole.

Sighing boisterously, you shove in your own earbuds, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin, cocking a brow, dejectedly slouched back. Although he doesn’t ask any more questions, and you successfully get through your first three hours in silence.

Well, prior to the flight attendant strolling by with her cart, mandatorily beckoning orders from each row.

Wheeling her cart over where your seats are, Hyunjin takes a ginger ale and the customary pretzels they hand out. So when she gets to you and you order a Sprite, the man to your right’s head snaps to you, giving you quite an incredulous cock of his brow.

“No ginger ale?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t like it,” Biting back, you interrupt him upon accepting the canned soft drink, expression bitter and unwavering.

“You always got it when you were with me” or “Wasn’t it your favorite” was what you expected to come out of his mouth, positively obliterating any ounce of peace of mind remaining inside your rattling skull. You weren’t about to sit another seven hours sulking about something your ex said.

The ex you were very much over.

Right.

Your new goal? Avoid genuine conversation for as long as possible, at least on this flight.

So, given the chance to be deep in thought, you came to a conclusion.

You were clockwork, just like before. Except now instead of just equaling the time of day, he was the hour hand and you were the minute hand, always chasing after one another only to briefly touch and start all over again in an endless cycle of time.

Although the rockier the air gets and the more your grip squeezes the armrest does your initial goal falter, finding his considerate gesture asking if you were alright practically impossible to keep from responding to.

Especially when a huge drop has his hand racing atop yours, both too nervous to truly let go.

Just the circumstances, you blame, as if this plane was the sole cause of your slamming heartbeat.

Bullshit.

Four days and this trip was going to be one for the books for a multitude of reasons, that’s for sure.

Let’s just hope you can land first.

December 23nd – Paris, France.

His assuring hold on your hand guiding you through the bustling crowds of visitors and locals storming Charles de Gaulle Airport gives you this disgusting nostalgia, festering in your gut the longer you focus on his dark head of hair in front of you, kind, magnificent almond eyes flickering back to catch sight of you time and time again — like you’d magically sift from his grasp.

It’s a miracle you managed to hit ground in one piece, nevertheless end up with the notorious artist-jerkface named Hyunjin navigating you through an supremely overpopulated airport.

Perhaps it’s the scent of wispy pine or faint cigarette smoke that tinges the atmosphere such a rosy hue, perhaps everyone’s anticipation for the holiday’s. Either way, it certainly doesn’t help fuel your “absolutely NO touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda”.

Well, you had no doubt you’d have to stick to your morals on this trip in the first place, and it’s not like the odds were supposed to work in your favor. Although, a little assistance would‘ve been nice.

Guess you’ll just have to make due.

Lovely.

“Thank you!” You shout, forcing your voice to sound chipper speaking to the Cab Driver (opposing the twenty-two hours of traveling you managed to survive through). Except now, you didn’t know what to do nor what to say standing outside the hotel entrance, especially not when Hwang Hyunjin was going to be biting your ass for the next few days.

Much to your luck though, it seemed he was just as clueless as you, both prioritizing just checking into your room first and foremost.

Thankfully, the sights are a wondrous source of distraction, and you devise a plan to go walking more often than not (and not just to avoid Hyunjin). Each building appears as if it’d been expertly carved from stone, historically aged beige, awnings titled a bottomless array of Grand Seiko and Jaeger-LeCoultre.

To add, huge paneled windows are placed in each room, allowing a breathtaking view of the city as evening dawns. Whether it’s a quaint bakery hitched right below a bookstore or the bell tower seated comfortably in the middle of a square—you could never get bored.

Seems your interest tore you away from an unwelcomed reality until Hyunjin cleared his throat, thick eyebrows raised questionably.

“..We could go ice-skating?” He offers, index pointing to the huge rink a few blocks to the left.

You don’t have to speak for him to know your response, unzipping your suitcase to gather a new change of clothes without a word.

“Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I doubt either of us will ever have enough money to come to Paris again, so just, do it for the experience, not for me.”

That’s it.

“For you? You think I’m doing this for you? Are you really that conceited to think I’m still catering to you, Hyunjin? I’ve changed whether you like it or not, and I’m not the girl that’s willing anymore,” You toss your clothing to the side, giving him a downright venomous stare. Loathing. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“In fact,” Spitting poison, you stab your index to his chest, causing him to back up the more you advance forward. “You don’t know shit about me.”

He appears torn. His nose scrunches, and his lips form a squabbled line upon his face, evidently troubled.

Somehow, those actions that normally earned your sympathy only reared your deftly oiled gears more, angrily roaring without fail.

“Because if you did, we wouldn’t be like this.”

Gesturing around, you retreat back a few steps, arms slapping your sides irritably. Meanwhile, the tall man remains silent, attention magnetically directed down at his shoes. And for a swift moment, mere seconds, you feel sorry — apologetic even.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You exhale. “I’ll go, and not for you. Understood?”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, biting his cheek as he watches you disappear into another room.

You thank the refreshing scent of peppermint for its momentary relief upon entering the bathroom, practically drenching your face in ice cold water over and over as if it’d clear your head.

For you; you’re doing this for you, nobody else, you remind yourself, prepping a washcloth and your toiletries whilst praying the warm shower water eases your blaring jet-lag.

Yet, you didn’t expect a visitor to suddenly pop in while you were mid-shampoo, and it seemed he didn’t expect it either.

You swore the prolonged eye-contact went on for centuries, absolute terror embracing every aspect of your face through the clear shower door.

“Fuck! Get out!”

Scurrying like a character off a cartoon, Hyunjin manages – through spilling apologies – to blindly ram himself into the door, hands gripping his skull.

Suddenly, he pauses, hesitating.

“Wait but I’ve seen you naked befo–”

“GET OUT!” You scream.

“Okay! Okay.” He hurriedly slips out, leaving you to rethink every decision made with his name involved. A recurring thought at this point.

And with that, you quickly accept that your jet lag isn’t even close to gone and likely won’t be as long as the artist sharing your hotel room is within a six-foot radius.

Oh, and you don’t know shit about ice-skating.

Of course, Hyunjin is a natural on ice. He glides like a snow spirit, freer than ever. Meanwhile, your nails are embedded into your vice of a railing, knees shakily attempting at balancing with little success.

He’s the princess, and you’re the frog. It’s decided. Walking while you crawled, running while you walked. A step ahead that was at some point motivating, now plain humiliating.

The ice rink is jam-packed, citizens and tourists alike savoring the crisp winter, the faded twinkling of lights glittering in the distance.

“C’mon, just one?”

You, clawing the icy edge, confusedly avert your focus to where the voice came from.

It’s Hyunjin, gesturing to his camera while you piece together his request before childishly whining your despair. He lifts his toboggan upward, a few endearing tufts of golden peering out to hang over crescent moon eyes, evidently smiling.

Leave it to this man to test your sanity. How could anybody say no when he looked that cute.

“Fine, one.”

Not like I could run off anyway, you mentally consider, finding the fact your legs are quite literally flailing as a good enough sign to give in.

“Yes!” He chirped happily, hurriedly fiddling with his camera.

Watching him with that kind of expression, you witness your Hyunjin again, fumbling around, so excited about the smallest of things.

It hurts.

“I..” He trails off, voice barely audible whilst winking to see through the lense. “Don’t want to miss a moment of you.”

“What was that?”

The camera flashes, and you wonder if you heard him correctly.

“Oh nothing.” His lips curl into a sheepish grin, easing toward you and unexpectedly prying your hand into his own, involuntarily pulling you along.

Panickedly, you clutch onto any article of clothing available (another goodbye to your no-touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda) similar to the handrails, squeezing your eyes shut while painfully awaiting a harsh slam against rock-hard ice.

A harsh slam that never happens.

You cautiously open an eye.

“One, two, one, two.” He counts steadily, soaring across the ice, unable to contain the huge beam the longer he watches you. Captivating.

You fight the urge to smile, the sensation of wind whipping your hair and his warm, reminiscent touch setting your nerves into a dopamine frenzy, making the routinely frown much harder than need be.

Nevertheless, perhaps staying in Hyunjin’s grasp would’ve been the safer option. Because with confidence comes failure (at least in your book of life), and your knees would’ve definitely appreciated not getting ruined.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin murmurs, sympathetically regarding your black and blue frame, looking worse for wear, skates in hand.

“Amputation has never sounded more tempting,” Grumbling, you hobble to return your skates, the man tailing behind you choking back his giggle, kindly waiting in case you stumble.

From the way things are going, the probability is high. Except, Hyunjin walks on eggshells, worried you might rip his head off in the case he asked the question sitting tentatively on the tip of his tongue.

Keeping himself contained had never been as unbearable as when with you, constantly having to refrain from wrapping your precious self into his arms, witness those warm, beautiful hues blinking at him like globes.

Five minutes into the walk back and your near-face-plant-turned-catastrophe was his last straw.

“Can I at least carry you?”

Your head snapping back was almost comical, ogling at Hyunjin as if he told you he’d been neutered or something.

Insane. He’s officially gone insane.

So have you, apparently. Because after getting all too familiar with the icy side walk for a fifth time, you give in, stifling your thoughts from erupting out of your skull—feeling like your entire earth was slowing down on its axis when he easily swept you off your feet.

Cute, hell, romantic too, until you arrive back at the hotel and the curious looks sent your way have your cheeks burning.

“This is so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face in your hands. Of course, Hyunjin just laughs.

You missed his laugh.

And he cares for you that night, transporting you from room to room in his arms despite your complaints you could do so yourself (although you secretly preferred it, and no, not because it was Hyunjin, only because of how bruised your legs were).

Plus, the mental exhaustion was practically debilitating, sleep beckoning you into its cozy embrace as the clock ticked on the wall. The man before you knelt in front of where you sat on the side of the bed, gently applying antiseptic to your cuts while you blanked in and out of consciousness.

Any common sense had completely abandoned you. Certainly, since you hadn’t noticed only one bed sat dead center in the room. Nor had you noticed through your half-asleep eyes how sweetly he maneuvered you around, pulling the comforter snug over your body.

His hand strays, wistfully smoothing some hair from off your eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gathering spare pillows and blankets.

He’ll sleep on the floor.

December 24th – Paris, France.

Apparently, there was much more to this Paris dilemma than just the “going to Paris” part (excluding, y’know, the havoc that’s occurred over the past three days).

This fantastic surprise came in the form of a booked Louvre Museum date, now a bit more like a punishment with your current state of soreness merely rising up from bed. And, in turn, seeing Hyunjin sawing logs on the floor below, an action you were inaudibly grateful for.

You two are a different kind of romantic if that’s what you want to call it, especially when Hyunjin practically barricades the bathroom door, nonsensically shouting that he won’t make the same mistake of walking in ever again.

Sweet gesture, but it gets a tad bit irritating when you have to basically charge the door in order to move the chair situated behind it, making you doubt if it was to keep Hyunjin himself out or keeping you in instead.

Yeah. Different kind of romantic. Exes kind of romantic.

Once 5pm rolls around, you’re already dressed and ready to leave, trying your darndest to pretend you’re doing something on your phone to evade conversation. A middle school move, though your ego is on the brink of becoming extinct anyway.

Seems the final act is when Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom, wearing that tan trench coat he always did.

He notices you analyzing, stifling a very tempting smirk.

“I thought you’d like this jacket. Y’know, since you stared at it all the time.”

With a sentence you watched your endangered ego obliterate in real time, embarrassment swallowing you whole. The cycle is neverending.

Thankfully, at least one factor in your unsolvable equation proves itself useful, the factor being your already purchased tickets, granting an earlier entrance into what felt to be a new world.

A new world you recognized as Hyunjin’s world. Vast, expansive. A place you can get lost in and be okay with. Stories hidden behind gold-rimmed frames, so much to tell if only you’d listen.

He lingers by the Psyche and Cupid sculpture longer than usual. Briefly, he told you about them many moons ago. Their love awakening from something much more tragic, apocalyptical.

What a coincidence.

You spend what feels to be days in there, daylight from the lengthy windows overhead falling dark by the time you’re finished. The temperature dropped exponentially while you explored, ignorant to the frigid conditions till realizing you still had your trek back.

Curse the taxi service for not running twenty-four hours.

“You grew your hair out.” You comment, but it’s not really a comment, more like an observation you already knew and felt the need to point out for some odd reason. The awkward silence is suffocating enough.

Granted, you’d known his hair had grown. You saw him every day coming to and fro from work, so any adjustments he made you saw, some of which you remember loving oh so much.

This adjustment was his hair.

Hyunjin’s lips quirk ever so slightly, fingers straying up to tousle a strand.

“You used to love it when I grew it out.”

He continues to walk ahead, ignoring how you had stalled behind, numb grip desperately clutching your puffer jacket as if it’d magically allow you inhalations.

“You would tie it up for me, and stick my paintbrushes in the bun.”

This time, he spins around, seemingly unaffected by your (both literally and figuratively) frozen finger that simply blinks at him — robotic-like.

Like Hyunjin is a stranger. Like your Hyunjin, the old one you were mad for, is now a stranger.

“And I,” He sniffs in, his exhale causing a cloud of air to comprise in its stead. “Really wanted to marry you.”

There’s your breaking point.

He’s pulled you thread by thread closer to an unthinkable free fall, a freezing free fall. Unfurling your strings of yarn to no point of repair. So as you teeter on the edge, your defense mechanisms kick in. And before you can logically consider your options, you smack him.

Right. Across. The face.

He’s stunned, you don’t blame him for that, but there’s also a crinkle in his brows, a look of utmost hurt beginning to stain any somber expression left.

“You have no right to say that when you’re the one that caused all of this.” Your volume increases, unaffected by the glances from passerby.

You have no doubt the two of you are quite a scene, though common sense had long abandoned you, and no thought but fiery rage curls around you, tendrils alight.

“Why the hell did you want to marry me if you can’t even love me? Quit hurting and confusing me Hyunjin, I can’t keep doing this.” Practically pleading, he pulls his palm from where it babied his cheek, instead retreating to your wrists, keeping you in front of him.

“Listen.”

“No!” You screech, trying your hardest to escape.

“Listen.”

You pause, gingerly allowing him to adjust the scarf over your pink nose and ensure your gloves trap warmth for your fingers.

He bites his lip, gaze dancing across your features.

“I love you.”

You shakily exhale, wishing everything would just stop. Time would simply diminish into nothing but stillness, easiness.

Your anguish and anger was easy, and staying mad was a whole lot easier than this—confronting the pains of meeting him again, nonetheless this trip.

He’s finding the pieces to your puzzle.

You want to hide.

Worst of all? Especially hearing him say the words that ended you two months prior.

Cruel.

“I loved you,” His voice wavers. “More than anything, Y/n. And I still do. But when you said that, I got scared.”

He shakily inhales, the grip on you lessening a bit.

“Because when I say I love you back, that means I have someone to lose.”

It’s hypocritical, you know.

Hell, you know what it’s like to be a hypocrite more than anything right now. From hearing the godforsaken news to sitting in an airplane together after wholeheartedly promising yourself you’d never let him have you once more.

Yet here you were, dragging him by his collar into a kiss.

He kisses you back, like an idiot, childishly grasping his clothing-cladden frame against your face and savoring the small bit of heat huddled between where your lips meet.

His trench-coat, you remember, despite so many adjustments, is the same as usual, and it’s almost comforting to find he smells the same as well—floral, with hints of jasmine (mainly thanks to his favorite perfume). You remember that too.

Guess some things never change.

Perhaps he kept that mug after all, drank from it every day like he used to.

And perhaps, right now, he’s wishing back all the time you’ve spent apart, just like you are. Wishing you would’ve just talked like mature, capable adults. Figured things out.

Newsflash, you’re not mature adults. You’re two broken lovebirds fighting to find their song after being caged together, searching high and low for the perfect pitch when all you needed was a single note, a single start.

Positioning you where an arm wraps around your back, the other holding your cheek, he dips you as if in a ballroom dance, not kissing beneath a street light.

Everything is pretty in Hyunjin’s presence.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper, nostrils burning the longer you’re surrounded by snow, falling in hefty sheets at this rate.

He hums into your lips, maneuvering his head to kiss away the chilled tears beginning to froth upon your waterline. And in those moments, you feel so fragile, so weak in his touch.

Almost instinctively, his grip tightens oh so slightly.

“I really don’t want to lose you.”

And he laughs, a muffled laugh that nonetheless causes his shoulders to shake before delving further into your kiss, melting away every bit of anguish you felt, all the hurt and ache. Dissolved into nothingness by his lips.

Figures briefly illuminated by the light of the street lamp, you remain ignorant to the encroaching nightfall, the way the stars seamlessly blend with white snowflakes. Something out of a fairytale.

You’re certain you could’ve stood there forever, all numb and freezing cold.

But in love. So very in love.

For him you would’ve stood there. And the you still in denial without understanding this entire story would’ve died before admitting that.

This time, you’re okay with letting him finish the puzzle, create a song as lovebirds.

“You won’t, I promise,” He traces your cheek with his thumb. “Now let’s get someplace warm, shall we?”

Landing an affectionate peck to your burning red nose, he takes your hand, guiding you through climbing snow toward your hotel, sign reading “Hôtel de Vendôme” glittering in the distance.

In your opinion, however, it was too fleeting. A kiss you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for until it actually happened, till you pathetically craved it again and again.

Although, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy gaining feeling back in your fingers and toes, treasuring the flicker of the fire crackling beneath a brick mantel. A few guests litter the lobby, dishing paper cups of hot chocolate left and right, taking the opportunity the mistletoe hanging above a long forgotten stairwell provides.

Christmas Eve and you’re beside the ex you swore you’d never spend it with, spend any time with generally. So surreal you simply cannot stop thinking about it, enough that you become too distracted to notice the mischievous glint in Hyunjin’s vision.

Well, before he points upward and you notice the dangling mistletoe.

And he kisses you again just like you wanted. Deeper, slower, like separating would cause you to break apart, carving your kiss into his memory for a second time.

Standing there, too lost in him to ever consider anything better than this, you begin to think maybe you’ll be able to finish that stagnant book of yours. Maybe it’ll be about two lovers turned two exes, whose trip to Paris might just have been the cherry on top to hurt feelings and broken love. Because, at the end of their tribulations, Cupid falls in love with Psyche.

And you begin to think—as the clock’s ringing announces midnight has arrived—maybe this Christmas will pass by on a good note.

No, you’re certain of it.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @slut4colinbridgerton @armystay89 @shujohajohaminnie @minhosbitterriver @callmedarlingsstuff

[dyli-dadi3]

Knotting

Chris thought you two were the bestest of buds, two peas in a pod... Well, he isn't technically wrong... there is a p in a pod...

Tags: smut (p in v), knotting, mating, riding, hybrid animals (both puppies), mounting, getting caught.

Ever since that shit with Wesker and Jill back in Africa, Chris hasn’t been able to relax. He tosses and turns at night, plagued with the face of Jill, of all the citizens he had to kill just because they were robbed of their humanity. The whole debacle had left him feeling incredibly lonely and filled with the overwhelming sensation that he was never fully alone. Every time he closed his eyes, even for a second, it was like he was in Africa all over again. It got to the point where his coworkers had noticed.

—

“Hey, Chris, you’ve been acting off, lately. " One late night, a guy in HR spoke up when he decided to stay and mess with the thick stack of paperwork that was growing on his desk. 

“Really?” Chris mumbled the words, more interested in the hissing of the coffee machine that was currently spewing out the liquid gold he needed. The sound was familiar to him, something that wasn’t the screams of pain and despair that he also got familiar with.

“Yeah, it’s like you’ve been distancing yourself. It’s making your paperwork late.” The little shit huffed, crossing his arms. 

Of course, he didn’t care about him, he was just there to ensure his performance was running at full speed. Not like he expected anything else, that’s why he never really talked to the guy. He just partook in the mandatory check-ins to say what is going good and bad in management, only for nothing to be changed because it isn’t “important.” He learned pretty quickly that the BSAA was good for one thing and one thing only, fighting bioterrorism. As long as there was some new monstrosity to humans running amok, their agent’s mental health could wait. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” Chris muttered, grabbing the steaming pot of instant coffee and poring it into his mug that was printed with the BSAA logo. 

“You know, I think you’re due for some company,” The guy said thoughtfully. What was his actual name again? Todd? Tom? I think it was Tom…

“How I spend my very limited free time isn’t your problem,” Chris said flatly, finally looking up at Tom. “And besides, I don’t have time to foster a new relationship.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about that,” Tim said, smiling at him like it was some kind of joke. 

I don’t have the time or patience for this.

“I’m thinking like a pet or something. Animals have been used for therapy forever. I think you need something to soften up that rough exterior of yours.” Ted chuckled, bringing his hand up to shove Chris’ shoulder. He just took a step back.

“…”

“If I can’t deal with a relationship, what makes you think that I can take care of a whole other life?” Chris huffed to save the man some embarrassment. Man, this guy was denser than that loaf of banana bread he tried to make for Jill when she joined S.T.A.R.S. with him.

“Geez, man, are you dense? I swear you live under a rock…” Timmy sighed.

Are you serious…?

“Haven’t you heard? Those new ‘hybrid’ things are all the craze right now.” If they’re being described as things, it can’t be good. “They’re humans, but animals.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at this. “First of all, how is that even possible? And second, why hasn’t the BSAA or government in general shut that down?”

“Well, the guy who was originally splicing all that DNA was arrested, but they couldn’t just kill the little fellows he made, so they put them up for sale. Not everyone could care for their new pet slash human baby, so some got loose and bred like rabbits. They’re everywhere now. Are you seriously telling me you haven’t seen one yet? News? Alley? Other friends?” Billy said.

Chris paused. “You’re telling me that there’s half animal, half-human creatures walking around the city?” The image in his mind was horrific.

“Yeah, they’re kind of cute, cute like a kid and a puppy at the same time,” Ben said with a smile. “But anyways,  brought it up ‘cause I think you’d do good with one. They’re easier to train than animals and can do all the same things we can, so you won’t feel bad for leaving them when you’re out doing that bioterrorism stuff. Brady has one.” 

“Who?” He knew a Brad once.

“...Brady? He sits right across from you.” Oh right, toupe. “Right, it’s just late,” Chris said, taking a sip of his coffee so he could at least try to properly wrap his mind around the bombshell Bill just dropped on him.

“Yeah, he says she’s the best thing to ever happen to him. But don’t tell his wife he said that.” 

Chris let out a dry chuckle, his mind moving on from the papers he had to do. Maybe he could look up these ‘hybrids’ once he got off of work.

“I’ll think about it.” He said before leaving Ben at the coffee machine.

—

It took way less effort than he expected, the papers quickly being filled out since he was getting more and more eager to find out what these hybrids looked like. If Toupe and Bennie thought they were good, as well as everyone else, they couldn’t be that ugly.

Before he knew it, Chris was sitting at his desk, the word ‘Hybrid’ typed up on his monitor. His finger governs over the enter button. Despite all the admittedly cute descriptions, he still couldn’t shake off the fear that they were just the same as all the bioengineered organisms he fought against. He’s killed his fair share of zombie dogs.

Forgetting the zombie dogs, he had always wanted a regular dog. So he amended his search, changing it to ‘Dog Hybrid’ and hit enter. 

The results were instantaneous, and he had to admit, they were pretty cute. The ones on the top of Google had round faces, chubby cheeks, bright eyes, floppy ears, and bushy tails. He then looked at maintenance. There was already an abundance of forums describing how to take care of them, what to expect depending on the type of species they derived from, and just some silly stories people wanted to share.

He was sold, and before he knew it, he had made an appointment to a shelter that houses hybrids to see if he could find one.

Of course, he always thought of having a tough-looking dog, big and fluffy. What he didn’t expect was to walk up to the front door and be greeted with two pups playfighting in the small enclosure just past the glass display. When he walked in, they both turned to look at him, yipping with pure energy.

He turned his back to them to greet the front lady who had been looking at him. “I’m here for a consultation? Last name Redfield.” 

The lady smiled, walking to the little gate on the side of her to let him in. “Just go down the hall and to the left, there’s a lady there that will help you from there.”

The lady she talked about was very sweet. She didn’t stare at him too long, or ask about his dark eyebags, or even the fact that he didn’t have unstained clothes to wear. She just asked him how much maintenance he was willing to expend for caretaking, as well as some personality inquiries. She said it was to “match him to the perfect pup,” since they only housed dogs.

With that, he was led through so many isles of dog-human things that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Despite the tempting allure of a companion to have when he came back home, it was all a spur-of-the-moment thing. He had yet to accommodate another living being in his house, and the thought of leaving a senior hybrid or puppy alone for long periods was beginning to weigh on his heart all over again.

—

“He was cute!” You said happily, flopping onto Leon’s side. “Imagine what it would be like to be adopted by him.”

It was a pastime for the two of you to look at the people who walked past and theorize about their lives, about what it would be like to be chosen by them. 

“I don’t know, he looks like he could crush my head with his bicep.” Leon grimaced, holding his head.

“Oh, but that’s the fun part!” You giggled, pressing your face to his side as your tail wags behind you. 

“I guess he looked interested.” Leon smiled, pouncing on you to nip at your neck. You squealed, trying to kick him off of you as he tried to pin you down. “Leon, that tickles!” You tried to catch your breath when he finally pulled away to sit down on the padded floor of the display case. “But that’s the fun part!” He said with a mockingly high-pitched tone as he smirked.

You huffed, jumping on top of him as you tried to repay the favor.

—

“I’m sorry, none of them called out to me,” Chris said, walking back to the front as he tried to ignore the pitiful looks of the hybrids he left behind him. Man, this was a bad idea.

“No worries, I’m glad you don’t feel the need to force yourself, we get a lot of people who fold, only to return them weeks later saying that they couldn’t deal with it.” The lady smiled, waving goodbye as Chris entered the front of the shelter again. 

He tried to ignore the way the two of you immediately stopped playing to lean up against the barrier of your enclosure. Both of your tails wagged, and he tried to push out the sound of “He didn’t get anyone! Do you think he came back for us?” coming from your sweet mouth. 

God, this was a bad idea.

“Are the ones in the front available?” He found himself asking the first lady. “Those two?” He awkwardly pointed at the two pups that were climbing over each other now that he specifically pointed them out. 

“I knew it!”

“We’re free!”

“Of course! They sure are the energetic type… Are you sure you’ll be able to handle them?” The lady said softly. He couldn’t blame her, he had answered her caregiving question with low maintenance.

“Don’t listen to her! We’re well-behaved!”

“Yeah! We’re so good!”

“I’m positive that we’ll be fine.” Chris smiled. No, I’m not, but I can’t say no to those cute faces…

“Well then, just sign these papers right right here for adoption, and then they’re all yours.” The lady smiled, reaching underneath her desk to produce two packets of papers. On the top of each of them were your names. The handwriting was messy, but the glitter pen used on yours made him realize that the two of you signed your names yourselves. The realization was heartwarming, and with the revelation, he could see the personality woven into the childish signatures. This was going to end up great.

—

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

God, he couldn’t have been more wrong. The two of you were endless bounds of energy, like two Tasmanian devils living in his flat. He had thought that the two of you were more human than dog, able to have self-control and discipline like Benjamin had said, but he quickly realized that he adopted two puppies that took a liking to chewing up all the shit in his house no matter how many times he said no. 

But he was a man, a stubborn one at that, and he was determined to give the two of you a forever home.

He’s had to put child-proofing on almost all of his furniture and cabinets so that you two didn’t get into his stuff or shred the legs of all his furniture to shit. Eventually, he had to go back to work, where he’d look the two of you in the eye and say “Be good” like a disapproving father before leaving. No matter what was happening at work, his mind was preoccupied with all the things the two of you could be getting up to. He was starting to think of getting a sitter.

When he came home, his blood ran cold. Pained whimpering. Did somebody get hurt? Was someone in danger? 

He rushed into his house, finding the source of his sudden anxiety spark. You. His jaw grew slack as he saw you straddling Leon’s thigh, the poor pup fast asleep as you rutted against him. “Hey!” He gasped, grabbing your arm and pulling you off of him. “No! That’s bad!” He admonished you, his ears aflame as he watched you whine and squirm in his grasp. He didn’t know what to do, and he would rather go back to Africa than see that again.

“N-No, feels good! I feel funny, and it helps.” You huffed, kicking your legs. 

All the ruckus woke up Leon, his eyes fluttering open as his pupils focused on your whining form. “Huh?” He said softly, sniffing the air and leaning in closer. “Dad… She smells sweet, what’s wrong?” he said thoughtfully, bringing his nose to her crotch and sniffing. 

Oh god. “First of all, I told you, I’m not your Dad. Secondly, you need to back up. She’s…sick.” He said tentatively, not wanting to even think about what she’s feeling right now. “Sick?” You said softly, looking up at him with big eyes and a tail between your legs. 

“You’ll be fine; you just need to stay in your room for a bit to cool off; it’ll feel better.” Maybe if she stays alone for a bit, she won’t go into a full-blown heat… 

—

That didn’t work. 

You were fine for a bit, cooling down and reporting that the feeling in your tummy went away, but as soon as he brought you to the same room as Leon, you’d complain all over again. He didn’t know what to do, he read about this, but he supposed that it was his fault for not asking more questions about the… condition the two of you were in. Well, he guessed that he should have asked way more questions.

But these were the cards he was dealt, and he couldn’t keep an eye on you forever, so he left work today with a very serious talk to Leon. “Don’t let her touch you, no matter how much she begs. And if you want to nap, please sleep in your room. Alone.” 

Simple, precise, and direct. Of course, he had already told you about what was happening. That it was completely normal, but that it needed to be controlled. He just hoped that you wouldn’t have to suffer for so long. He was already looking up vets to have you spayed.

—

“Dad said we can’t!” Leon sighed, trying to keep his distance as your sickeningly sweet scent saturated the air around him. He could practically see the way it colored the atmosphere. All pink and flowery and like candy. It made his head spin and cock twitch. Wait, that was new. “But it hurts, Leon! I’m all hot and achey and it’s the only thing that makes me feel better. Don’t you wanna make me feel good?” You pouted, walking closer to him again. Only this time, he didn’t take a step back.

“We’ll be quick, he won’t even know! Dad said it’s normal!” You argued your case, coming in closer and closer. 

“I suppose… You do feel sick.” Leon sighed, sitting down on the couch. You immediately crawled into his lap, whimpering as you pressed your slicked-up pussy against his thigh, the wetness permeating through the pair of soft shorts you wore. Leon groaned, the smell of your arousal making him feel dizzy but good at the same time. “Maybe this isn’t so bad…” He said as you rutted against his thigh. “D-Do you need anything?” He asked, hands hovering over your hips. “You. Oh my god, you smell so good, Leon.” You groaned, burying your nose into his neck and inhaling. 

Leon had no idea what was going on, only that you were sick and maybe he was getting sick, too. His skin felt feverish, and now there was a throbbing in his pants that was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. He was drawn to the scent, not like he needed to be pulled, you were drowning him in it. Choking him with your intoxicating scent that made his hips buck and his mouth water. He knew he should be stopping this before it got too far, but the voice in his head was screaming more, more, more! He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight hug, pulling you in closer to rut against his erection. 

“Oh god, yes, Leon!” You sobbed, unsure whether to continue indulging in the pleasure of the now or try and soothe the ache deep inside of you. But you had to, the throbbing was borderline painful.

You slipped out of your shorts, tugging his cock out of his sweats. You didn’t know how, but it was like you knew that this was what you needed, the voice in your head yipping in glee. You paused when Leon whimpered, his hips jerking, jolting you up with him. “That feels good, too?” You asked. 

“Yeah, feels good…” He whined, gripping the fat of your hips. Never in his life has he felt this good, like putting ice on a burn, eating watermelon in the hot summer heat, or eating a sandwich after getting out of the pool. All the static in his brain cleared, and all that was left was the overwhelming urge to do something with you. He didn’t know what, but he felt like this was as close as it was going to get.

God, was he wrong. There was something better, and it was called ‘being deep inside your best friend as she bounced on your lap like a professional pogo stick rider.’

He was cussing like a sailor as you engulfed him, everything coming full circle as he realized that this was what he was meant to do for the rest of his life. Nothing else he would ever do would compare. He was sure of it. Your pussy was like a godsend and he couldn’t get enough. He tightened his grip, snapping his hips up into your sopping heat as he pulled you down, trying to get as deep as possible. It wasn’t enough, there was a missing piece. 

You were a trembling mess, clenching around him and making him whine as he tried to go faster, feeling a ball of something wind up in his chest. “O-Oh my god, Leon, I-I feel something.” You gasped as he groaned, shoving the both of you to the ground as he mounted you. He pushed you into the ground as he arched your back, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace as his voice grew higher and whinier. “M-Me, too. Wan’it.” He whimpered, moving faster, until he nearly screamed, your pussy clamping down on him as you came. He didn't stop, couldn't stop, the need to fuck you overwhelming. But he didn't last much longer. In just moments, he was cumming ropes and ropes of thick cum into your pussy. The whole thing was overstimulating and honestly a little terrifying. All of the dizziness went away, there wasn't a trace of static, nor was there a voice begging for more. He suddenly felt complete, and that was alarming, not to mention the fact that his dick was swelling inside of you. “H-Hey, are you okay?” He said in alarm. Despite your moans, the feeling of stretching your pussy like this made him nervous.

“So good… Feel so much better…” You mumbled into the hardwood, eyes droopy and body like putty. “That's good…” Leon murmured, finally relaxing with your confirmation and tugging you with him as he flopped to the side, spooning you. He stayed still, his body automatically knowing the process. It was as if he was on autopilot. The thought made him chuckle. He was made to please you.

—

Chris dropped all his things at the front door when he saw the two of you fast asleep.

“Shit!”

I love puppy Leon so much it's not even funny. Trust that he will be back for more.

[sharkboywrites]

Haayyy >__0 if your rqs are open I'd looove to see another floyd x male reader fic... I would love to see some hurt/comfort stuff around floyd's bpd getting in the way of him finally having a meaningful relationship, n the reader comforting him about it. If you could somehow imply that the reader is trans. and autistic. that would be cool !! but it is opt. ^_^

floyd bpd is a major hc of mine and I hardly see anyone actually pointing it out or writing about it ... that stuff's gotta be done!! he's bpdtastic!! and no one gaf 😭😭😭!!!!!

Tough Times

Bpd Floyd x Trans autistic reader

A/N: Hii! So to be completely honest I don’t really know everything about bpd, although I suspect I may have it but that’s unrelated, but I’ll try my best to write it. Please correct me if I get anything wrong! Also I’ll try to fit in the reader’s own traits but I might have a bit of trouble with it

Trans reader, autistic reader, Floyd had bpd

Floyd was hard to deal with for most people

Most people thought he was too crazy, too quick to change his emotions, and was completely unpredictable and dangerous.

You weren’t most people though.

While Floyd did have his quirks, you still love him, the two of you were practically inseparable. Like seriously, it started to become odd to see one of you without the other.

Although, while you two still loved each other, sometimes it would be hard. Each episode either of you had would cause a problem in your relationship, whether it be your dysphoria or meltdowns, or Floyd’s sudden mood changes and impulsive behavior.

It hurt Floyd more than he’d ever wanted to let you know.

He really hated the way he acted, the way it caused problems between the two of you, the way he would get you into trouble along with him whenever he was impulsive.

Having these feelings just made things worse for him. The more he tried to shove it down, the worse his mood swings would get. One moment he’d be clinging to you like if he’d die if he let you go, and the next he’d be avoiding you like the plague, doing stuff that would get him into trouble.

It worried you. You knew something was wrong with the way he was acting, but you weren’t sure how to address it with him right.

During the next time he was with you, you decided it would be the best time to try and talk to him about it. You sat him down in your dorm room and gently caressed his hand as you told him what you felt was wrong.

His emotions were everywhere. One moments he was upset and crying, the next angry and yelling, mostly at himself, but in the end he was able to tell you what was wrong.

You held him closely, assuring him that even though he had these problems, you were always there for him. You weren’t going to leave him over this, that the two of you could always talk it out, just like the way you did during your own episodes.

For the next few days you made sure to shower him in affection, staying by his side almost all day, giving him treats, and reinforcing how much you love him. Your actions were reassuring to him, and while he still had some complicated feelings, you were helping to make him feel much better.

Sometimes things may be hard between the two of you, you both have your problems, but at the end of the day you both love each other, and both of you will always do your best to not let that get in the way.

[liliewrites]

Hii! Do you still take requests? If so, could you please write some fluff with soft Arlecchino x fem!Reader, who has big sleeping problems and stuff like that. And maybe Arle humming a quiet little lullaby/tune, to help calm us or stuff 👀

Or! 'Cchino with Fem!Reader, who's afraid of thunderstorms

If you have an idea on a way to combine both that would be so so cool and amazing! Sorry if there is something wrong about it. You ofc dont have to write it, if you dont want to

HELLOOOO ANONNNN!!:) it is i, kylie, here to make ur wishes come true and lemme tell u because i actually do struggle with sleep sometimes and to have arlecchino comfort you.. what a dream.. (funnily enough i have a plushiecchino and i have it next to me when i sleep she's so skrunklydoo) anyw here's ur request! hope u like itttttttt!!

-warning/s ; none! just tooth rotting fluff with soft arle:))

(men pls dni utc!)

it was a cold, stormy night.

your lover lay beside you, sound asleep with her arms loosely wrapped around you. you let out a sigh, this was one of the many nights that you were just hit with the inability to sleep and the thunderstorm was not helping either. it frustrated you greatly as lacking adequate sleep extremely made you feel more tired during the day when taking care of the children. however, your efforts were futile, completely giving up as what you've estimated to have wasted at least half an hour on trying to force yourself to sleep, you carefully slip away from your lover's hold, being wary of not waking her up. as soon as you were able to get out of bed without issue, you stretched a little before grabbing the silk robe on the nearby armchair. you put it on and messily tied your hair into a bun, slipping your feet into those fluffy slippers to further silence your footsteps.

you then headed for the door so you could leave for the study room down the hall as you decided to just read instead yet not even a few steps away from the armchair near your bed, your wife had started to shuffle around making you halt your movements. you were startled when she immediately sat straight up, eyes darting everywhere as she looked for you. "beloved??" she exclaimed, unable to see you as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

you looked at her, finding her adorable as she sat there with an alarmed expression, but the sleepiness was evident on her face. "darling, hello.." you greeted her with a sheepish smile, and you could see the look of relief that was then replaced with worry. "is there something the matter, my love? it's in the middle of the night.." she mumbled, getting off the bed to approach you. clad only in her pajamas and a loose tank top, you couldn't help but blush a little, your wife looked handsome and gorgeous as she walked towards you.

"is it because you cannot fall asleep again, love?"

she asked as strong, firm arms had found it's way around your waist. arlecchino was taller than you, no doubt, and she placed her chin on your shoulder. her bigger figure that slightly engulfed yours always provided you a sense of safety and comfort, so you were able to let out a sigh of relief as she tucked herself in the crook of your neck, pressing her lips on your skin.

"unfortunately, that is the case, my beloved. i was just going to head to the study room to read, you can go back to sleep.."

at your words, arlecchino separated from your shoulder to look at you. she's noticed that you've been having trouble sleeping more often lately, and it worries her greatly. "are you ill, beloved? perhaps any issues or problems that plague your mind?" she asks, and your hands find it's way to her face. your touch a soothing balm to her troubled soul, but her worries remained nonetheless and you knew that.

"nothing much, really. i just cannot fall back asleep, and the thunderstorm isn't helping. it's.. scaring me a little." you told her truthfully, and it assured her at least a little to know that you were unharmed and safe from any sort of illness, but the issue of you losing sleep while being frightened of the ongoing thunderstorm stays nagging her mind. she lets out a sigh and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, before whispering in your ear. "then lay with me, my love. let me put you back to sleep."

with no objections, you nodded, deciding to put your faith into arlecchino's capabilities of putting someone to sleep. after all, you guessed that before you, it was her who took tucked the children in bed. she grabbed your hand and led you back to bed, tucking you under the sheets before climbing in beside you. she leaned on the headboard, pulling your head to lay on her chest as she held you close. "i wonder, will i be experiencing what you do to the kids when they cannot sleep?" you jest, and she pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "no, do you want to? usually they end up crying when i use my preferred method." she answers with her usual deadpan tone, making you look at her with a slightly upset gaze. "arlecchino! what did you do to the kids?" you asked, with a scolding tone, causing the harbinger's heart swoon a little with your concern for the kids. her lips break into a small smile, patting your head. "kidding, my dear. i do not harm them but also do not "tuck" them. when they tell me that they cannot sleep i just tell them that i will make them fall asleep, and they usually scurry off." she confesses, and you sigh, now you know why the kids ask you to tuck them in bed. before you could speak a word, she cuts you off.

"- but that is besides the point, love. for now, we should focus on getting you back to sleep."

you nod, settling back into her chest, deciding to let it go for tonight and talk about it in the morning instead. the moment you close your eyes though, a roaring thunder crackled, making you flinch. arlecchino says nothing, but she wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you in a tight and protective embrace.

"beloved, i.. want to hear your voice. could you perhaps sing me a lullaby?"

arlecchino was a harbinger-- and one known to be a bringer of death. she was not a singer. she was a trained soldier, one among the highest ranks. she wouldn't agree with your request.

but..

"very well, but i will not sing. humming a melody is the best i can do."

"fair enough."

you couldn't help but smile, knowing your wife couldn't outright and completely say no to you, so much for being feared across teyvat, you think. arlecchino notices the smile on your face, and she may not have shown much of a reaction, but she feels her heart flutter-- and really, even if it means looking like a fool, then she would. she'd be true to her name and act like a harlequin if it meant seeing you smile.

you close your eyes to the sound of her heartbeat, accompanied with her soft humming. her hand caressing your shoulder in a comforting manner, before wrapping two arms around you to hold you much much more closer. the thunderstorm was loud and it persisted, but as of the moment, all you could focus on was your wife, and it was helping. a lot.

and by a lot, it meant that you were able to close your eyes without flinching, despite the roaring thunder. all you could hear was your wife's humming. oh, how she sounded so beautiful along with her gentle heartbeat, and that was what you focused your mind on.

not more than 5 minutes, you felt yourself slowly succumb to sleep. her humming, her heartbeats, her warm embrace, all of it were the missing factors to the perfect solution for your lack of sleep.

she noticed that you had leaned in and pressed more weight into on, so she brushed a strand of hair from your face and tucked it into your ear. beautiful, was all that she thought as she stared at you for a while before concluding that you had already fallen back to sleep.

slowly, she leaned back down so both of you could now lay on the pillows instead of the headboard, but she still held you close to her chest to ensure that you felt safe and protected even while asleep.

it was indeed, a cold, stormy night.

but your wife held you through it, comforting you and thankfully, you had finally drifted back to sleep. "goodnight, beloved. i hope you have good dreams." she whispers lovingly into your ear, then pressing a kiss to your forehead. she closes her eyes, finding it easy to fall asleep almost immediately. the love of her life was beside her after all, and your presence alone was enough to lull her back to sleep.

the next morning you ask the kids what arlecchino usually does when they can't fall asleep, and you find out that having them be tucked in bed by her is something that rarely happens. often times, she does actually tell them that she'd make them fall asleep by force, but when they r sick, scared or troubled then arlecchino takes them back to their room and once they get climb in bed and get snug, she pats them on the head, says goodnight and leaves. when they are really freightened though, she stays for awhile and waits them to fall asleep, before leaving. arle good dad just not affectionate--

[eruden-writes]

Intentions - Part 4 (alien x human)

Summary: In the future, humans are nearly universal surrogates and Earth has taken to profiting off the ability. However, while humans can intermix with aliens, it doesn’t mean it’s without complications.

When Taliyra signed up to be a Companion to an alien, she had expectations. Mainly a lot of sex in an attempt to conceive an alien baby. What she didn’t expect was her counterpart to be so distant and - for lack of a better term - relatively hands off. For all intents and purposes, Khravel seems completely disinterested in her and will not hold a discussion to explain why.

After four months of this behavior, she’s had enough. Confronting Khravel, she gives him an ultimatum: either he sits down and talks with her about what the problem is or she’s going back to Proxypanion and requesting a transfer.

---

First - Master list - Previous

---

Khravel’s own wrist tech pinged in response, receiving the data she had sent. However, he didn’t even look at it. He just steadily stared at her, his jaw tight. Bruised ego and guilt threaded through his thoughts, but his words took on a harsher edge as he asked, “Do you believe barging into my office, during my workday, to accuse me of being bad at sex was your best option?”

Frustration flared through Taliyra, annoyed that that was what he took away from her confrontation. Poor sex wasn’t the only issue here and she had a job to do, dammit! She slammed her hands on his desk as she leaned forward, a frown etching further across her lips. She met his eyes head-on, her gaze not wavering from his face. “I wouldn’t have to corner you in your office if you’d talk to me during out nighttime meetings.”

Still, Khravel did not move. Something snapped through the air between them and it was not anger. At least, on his part. He was fairly certain Taliyra was pissed and, from the slight glassiness in her eyes, hurt by his actions. That part, her potential pain, made guilt double through him.

Shoving away from his desk, Khravel rose to his feet to tower over Taliyra. “I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting to prepare for.”

He gathered up the tablets on his desk, straightening them and making sure they were securely locked before stowing all but one in his desk. The remaining tablet, his own personal one, he brought with him as he made his way to the door.

Watching Khravel as he cleaned up his desk, Taliyra remained undeterred when he moved to leave. “I’ll attend with you.”

“Excuse me?” Once more, his eyes widened and he pinned the human with a look. She had skirted up to his side, completely confident in her decision, without him even weighing in.

“Tivikonians have low population numbers, partially due to the after-effects of various plagues that have affected libido and fertility, among other things.” Taliyra fell into step beside Khravel, considering he did not even slow. “Your society is a little laxer about explicit acts in public versus Terran cultures, creating strictly adult-only sections of restaurants, malls, public transit, and more to… encourage copulation as soon as the moment hits. Isn’t that right?”

“What does that have to do with us?” He already knew her point, but that didn’t help his mood.

“It’s common practice for Companions to accompany their counterparts everywhere,” she stated, shooting him a look. A sly, if smug, smile twisted at her lips when Khravel finally paused, staring down at her. A small part of her worried he regretted having her as a Companion, but the angry part – the part bristling at his treatment of her – sallied forth. She shot him a sharp smile, pitching her voice a little lower so E’verra would not hear. “Perhaps your poor performance is simply due to environmental issues or an afflicted libido. In which case, having me follow you everywhere will help us assess how and when to better the chances of conception.”

Heat slid down Khravel’s back, her words making his spine straighten. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t feel pressured, we have two months to– Hey!“

He heard her heels clicking insistently behind him as he veered down the hall. Heat – angry, flustered, agitated – razed up his back as pride barely kept him from sprinting down the corridor. Khravel caught E’verra watching from their desk as Taliyra dogged at his heels, their slight smirk making the back of his neck burn.

The two fell into silence as they made their way through the innards of the office space. Khravel nodded to colleagues or waited for people to pass, while Taliyra remained silent and watchful.

It made his teeth gnash together, just having her near him. His background thoughts teetered on indecent as he forced his pulse to remain calm. Deep breaths, not so deep she’d notice but deep enough to keep his calm. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this new turn of events. There had to be some way to convince Taliyra to forget her scheme.

But this was her job. He was her job. Providing him with a child was the whole point of this ordeal. He couldn’t tell her not to do it.

Could he? If he explained what happened with Avry, perhaps Taliyra would give up.

The thought struck just as his hand pressed to the conference room console, scanning his palm before the door hissed open. He briefly considered motioning to Taliyra, allowing her to go in first. The meeting wasn’t anything particularly confidential. Mostly going over the language of outdated laws, reviewing the language of new proposals.

She did not even wait for his invitation, however. The woman swept in before he could turn to her, leaving Khravel to stare after her, marinating in a confusing turmoil of aggravation and lust. His eyes flicked over her form, both relieved and annoyed by how much skin was covered, how well the outfit fit her, how he wanted to see more of her.

Pausing on her way to the table, Taliyra gleaned over the other members already in the room.

There was a pale yellow Tivikonian – presumably whoever Khravel was meeting with – and a human Companion. Taliyra narrowed her eyes, finding the yellow Tivikonian not as tall as Khravel, but broad and stocky. Their four arms were bulging with muscle and the horn-like structures on their head were slim, angling backward. They seemed familiar. Perhaps she’d seen them on the vidscreen during her many hours alone in her room.

The Terran, however, Taliyra did not recognize in the slightest. Though she was obviously a fellow ProxyPanion, judging by how she and the Tivikonian sat rather close, exchanging whispers before she and Khravel entered. They were shorter than Taliyra, with a slighter frame but curvature for a healthy handful. Purple-dyed hair, cut in a short curly bob, and big blue eyes, enhanced by their button nose and full cheeks. They also were wearing the gauzy fine fabric that left little to the imagination that Taliyra reserved for Khravel’s nighttime visits.

“Delegate Yivo,” Khravel nodded to the yellow Tivikonian as he entered the conference room. His eyes twitched to the new human, gleaning over her form. “And I have not had the pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

Watching Khravel, Taliyra quietly disseminated his expression, the intonation of his words. He seemed painfully neutral, but whether that was his genuine demeanor or due to her presence, she couldn’t say. It would be easier to figure it out after additional time together.

Besides, why should she care if he found the other Companion more appealing? She certainly did not care in the slightest!

As Khravel entered, the yellow Tivikonian smiled and stood in greeting. “I hope you don’t mind, Delegate Iedro. I brought my newly-acquired Companion, Laryse, she/her.”

Laryse smiled shyly as she got to her feet, giving Khravel and Taliyra a nod of acknowledgement while the yellow Tivokian introduced Khravel and, to Taliyra, himself. Her hands were nervously clasped in front of herself.

Newlyi-introduced Delegate Ghensil Yivo wrapped a lower arm around Laryse’s shoulders, tugging her close to his side. Taliyra had to swallow a surge of envy, watching the two exchange smiles between them. “Thought I’d see what the fuss was all about and, admittedly, this has been a charming solution to our population problems. And is this your elusive Companion?”

Before Khravel could answer, Taliyra took the reins. She smiled at Yivo, inclining her head in a small bow. “Yes, my name is Taliyra Deyva, she/they. Khravel – I mean, Delegate Iedro – and I have been discussing making more public appearances together.”

“That is good to hear! There’s growing concerns about your new Companion rarely being seen with you.” Despite being across the table, Yivo made a motion with his free arms, as if he was nudging his colleague. He also added a wink in for good measure. “You could sway some hold-outs just by having her on your arm at functions, Delegate Iedro.”

“Yes, well, we’re still discussing it,” Khravel barely managed to keep his words level enough to not be considered a hiss. Taking a seat, he brought up the necessary documents they needed to discuss on his tablet. “Let’s move on to business, shall we?”

The two Tivokians quickly settled into chairs on the same side of the table as the women did similarly, on the opposite site of the table and further down. Soon, the Delegates were discussing law verbiage and legislation wording and regulations. The laws weren’t much different than Earth, in Taliyra’s assessment. In most cases, they are far more reasonable than the bulk of Terran laws of the past.

Though she noted some interesting tidbits, intent on looking them up later on, she turned to Laryse. The other woman was looking down on her gauntlet, seemingly checking messages. Clearing her throat, Taliyra waited for Laryse to look up, before politely breaching into conversation, “Have you been in Tivik-4 long?”

“About a week,” Laryse replied, smiling awkwardly as her shoulders hunched imperceptibly.

Taliyra nodded, smiling with ease. “I’ve been here four months. I can give you some places to visit, if you like. Museums, galleries, shopping, restaurants. Tivokian culture and history is very interesting.”

“Oh, yes! Can we exchange information?” The knot of Laryse’s shoulders eased, her smile growing a little broader. After scanning each other’s gauntlets, sharing contact preferences and data, Taliyra pointed out some of her favorite spots thus far on Tivik-4. Laryse scrolled through the information Taliyra sent her via holoscreen, the other woman pointing out other highlights and noting the Companion Support Group also available through ProxyPanion.

After a lull in conversation, the “It’ll be nice to have more humans to spend time with. I imagine I’m a bit of a distraction to Ghensil’s workload.”

Down the table, the yellow Tivokian chuckled. “You are not a distraction at all.”

The fondness in Delegate Yivo’s voice made Taliyra swallow a lump in her throat.

Equally, Khravel shot the other man an annoyed look. Despite the fact they had hammered out quite a lot of verbiage issues and updated some outdated terminology, he’d been catching his colleague throwing wistful glances toward Laryse. Those glances had only increased the longer they worked.

Laryse pressed her lips together, shooting her counterpart a stern look. “You say that, but you are…” Her gaze flicked to Taliyra and Khravel, her shoulders rising to her ears. “Well, it’s not appropriate to say in front of others.”

“Let me guess, he’s very lusty.” Taliyra gave a lazy, knowing smile, watching how a smirk toyed across Yivo’s face. Not that she knew personally, but she had seen other Companions and their alien counterparts eagerly partake in the public, strictly adult, sectors. In more recent weeks, she avoided those areas. It made her chest hurt and agitation flare through her thoughts.

She almost broke down in a fit of laughter when Laryse shot her a wide-eyed look, cheeks flushed pink. She reached over to pat the other woman’s hand. “It’s okay to say here. We’re adults here and Tivikonians are more open about sex.”

For the second time, Laryse’s shoulders eased as she exhaled slowly. “Oh, I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. I haven’t been able to get out much to get a read on,” she made a circling motion with her hand, “Everything.”

“He’s been keeping you busy at home?” Taliyra grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

“Something like that,” Laryse replied, snorting down a laugh.

Taliyra laughed too, while fighting down her own jealousy. It wasn’t Laryse’s fault nor Yivo’s fault that her match-up had been far less exuberant with her. She only barely refrained from glancing down the table at Khravel. She wanted to gauge his reaction, see if he felt uncomfortable or leered at Laryse, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Laryse, if you keep talking about sex, I will have no choice but to cave to my baser instincts.” Delegate Yivo shot Laryse a playful look as one of his hands tapped the table twice. “Right here.”

The purple-haired woman’s lips puckered, her blue eyes narrowing on Yivo. “I doubt Taliyra and Delegate Iedro want to see that, Ghensil!”

Despite her reprimanding tone, her cheeks continued to darken and – from the way she shifted in her seat – Taliyra wondered if the other woman was excited. Giving a one-shouldered shrug, her eyes bounced between Laryse and Yivo, blatantly not looking at Khravel. “I don’t mind.”

“You do not have to, Miss Laryse.” The white-red Tivokian sighed, reading the awkwardness in the human’s body language and hoping his colleague wasn’t going to press the issue.

“I just… I don’t mind,” Laryse began, babbling as she tugged at a curl of her bob. “I don’t want to make any of you uncomforta–“

“Delegate Iedro will not mind. He spearheaded the movement to bring ProxyPanion to Tivik-4.” Yivo smiled, pushing his tablet away as he motioned for Laryse to come closer.

“If you’re all sure you don’t mind?” Laryse looked from Taliyra to Khravel, her pink cheeks unable to darken any further.

Suddenly, the weight of the room was on Khravel’s shoulders. Delegate Yivo, Laryse, and Taliyra were all looking at him, the only one who had yet to give permission for a show. Unable to argue, Khravel tried to force the tension in his shoulders to ease. With a motion of his hand, he attempted to smile. “Far be it for me to stop you two. I commend you both for your duties to Tivik’s populace.”

---

Part 5 is up on Patreon now! ;P

[lvlyghost]

One Last Time

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader.

Summary: You and Ghost go on your first mission since your break up.

Word Count: 1k

Tw: angst, hurt with very little comfort. suggestive themes. ghost being cold hearted. reader's call sign is starlight. not proofread 👻🌸

A/N: Finished this in one sitting lol, just couldn't stop thinking about it so forgive me if it's all over the place, i totally didn't write while listening to champagne problems🫶🏻✨💞enjoy

Masterlist✨

The sun's starting to hide on the horizon, casting pink and orange shadows against the concrete walls of the abandoned building you're currently hiding in. You sort of wish you at least had your earphones. Anything to help you swallow the tense silence that's fallen between you and Ghost.

Both leaning against opposite walls, waiting until it's safe enough to go out and reunite with your team. You cross your legs, shifting in your place to a more comfortable position. The temperature slowly decreasing as the yellow burning star in the sky disappears. You didn't mind Ghost's presence. You liked him. And he liked you too; perhaps way too much for your own good.

But not after what happened.

Not after that night –12th of June–, just one week ago. When he had decided that this –your relationship– had no future. And it hurt like hell. Your ever present smile faded when you came to his barracks ready to spend another night under the covers, admiring each other. You loved him it physically pains you. He had greeted you with that stoic face of his, grabbed you gently by the arm and pulled you inside only to break your heart.

Ghost pulls his mask over his lips to take a sip from his canteen, you divert your gaze not liking what his mouth reminds you of.

You don't get to see him anymore. Not in the way he only let you. You don't get to hear his deep chuckles, or how his chest rumbles when he does. You can no longer have the pleasure of touching his pale features; or feel the stubble that adorns his jaw under your hands. Never again will his hands travel down your body nor hold you when you have a nightmare. Shared lunches at the cafeteria with the team.

Maybe it all became too much in the end.

What were you supposed to say, to do now? Act as if nothing happened? You swallow. Your heart is beating fast so you force yourself to breathe deeply.

"You okay sergeant?" He finally asks, staring straight to you. Ghost's right arm resting atop his leg, the other one splayed in front of him. The intensity of his gaze never leaves your form.

"Yeah. Just tired, Lt." You lie. Because you're not tired at all. you're heartbroken.

"Sleep then." Ghost barely does so it feel almost selfish to do it.

"I'm fine." You murmur, looking everywhere but at him.

"Look at me when I speak to you." Your eyes snap to his. Wide-eyed you fight back an insult. How dare he? "I'm still your superior out here." So you wait. You wait for him to break first. Had you been paying attention to his demeanor for the past week; you would've noticed the cracks on his façade. No one knew like you did.

But you refused to look at him ever since that Friday night. "Whatever happened that night it stays there. Don't bring that shite here."

"With all due respect, Lt." You pause feeling the tears welling in your eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

Silence falls again. Ghost's hand balls into a fist, jaw tightening so hard you can hear the bones crack as an overwhelming press on his chest settles. He had never meant to hurt you, but things were getting too serious, you were getting too close. He couldn't afford to have something like that; Ghost knew what it meant to let someone too close. And he broke that rule. You plagued his mind, his space and feelings.

Too bloody close.

"That all you've got, kid?" He ask firmly. "Try again. I'll give you another chance. Thought you more than anyone would understand."

You're shaking. Astonished by his words. The pain is unbearable. You laugh with no emotion.

"What am I supposed to understand, Ghost?"

"Why it can't be."

Shaking your head in denial you stand up, not thinking about the consequences, too enraged. Ghost is quicker though. Jumping from where he was sitting he grabs you by the straps of your combat vest and yanking you down with him. His nostrils flare from underneath the balaclava, eyes boring into yours. His visceral reaction sinks deep inside.

"There's a potential sniper out there. You trying to get killed?" He hisses through gritted teeth.

You slap his hand away from your vest, yet you don't move away from where you sit between his legs.

"Thought you didn't give a shit about me."

"You're bloody blind if you think I don't care about you."

"You don't!" You bite back. "If you cared for me in the slightest you wouldn't have tossed me out like I'm a stranger! Like nothing we went through ever mattered to you." His body goes stiff as you keep talking. "I loved you..."

Ghost can't bear the way you tremble in his arms, watching you sob. In pain. Because of him.

"I told you not to get close to me. I knew from the beginning I'd hurt you... not because I wanted to. I don't know how to do this. I wish I could be better for you, but I can't, it's all I've been my entire life. My biggest regret is that I started to care for you somewhere along the line; and when I realized, it was too late." He pauses. "Forgive me." The words echo in your ears, paralyzing your entire limbs. "I know you're hurt," he whispers your name. Not your callsign. Your real name. The one he adores to call you when he's buried deep inside you, and you cling to him like he's everything. "I don't deserve you, not even the smallest part of you." He holds you closer, you're still not looking at him, the weight of his words... it's too much.

"It was real, Simon." Your voice is soft and very quiet. "All this time it was real to me. Just because you were afraid..."

"I am fucking scared!" He yells. "Can't bloody see it?! If I lose you...-" you look up at him, mouth agape forcing as much air as you can inside your lungs. "How do I make it right?" He questions. "It was real to me too. Too fucking real."

As angry as you're feeling, broken and betrayed you bring a hand up to his pained features, lifting the mask so you can feel his warm skin again. Ghost's eyes are frantic, waiting for you to speak.

"Let me in."

Staring in the pitch black darkness, silence reigns yet again.

One last chance, that's all you need.

"Ghost, Starlight, sitrep." When no one answers the radio crackles again. "Hostiles coming your way, get ready."

[coconut-dreamz]

touch it

touch it || tom blyth x famous! reader

a/n: saw a tiktok using a sped up version of this song and knew i needed to write something with it for my husband. i think it’s gender neutral. i didn’t use any gendered descriptions. hope you enjoy !!

warnings: one curse word, a little suggestive, but nothing too spicy. reader is implied to be a celebrity of some sort, but it’s very vague.

how do I make the phone ring?

why do I even care?

you were sitting on your bed, staring at your phone, not so patiently waiting for a call, a text, even a simple instagram like from the man that had been plaguing your thoughts lately. 

ugh, you were pathetic. why did you even care if he liked your latest instagram post. it's not like there was anything going on between the two of you. you had just recently met through your mutual friend rachel. and things had certainly hit it off, but you weren't together. at least, not officially. 

and now here you were, waiting for a simple notification from tom that showed that he was thinking about you too. god, when did this happen?

how are you all around me when you're not really there?

when you're not really there?

you saw him everywhere now. you saw him in the coffee shop you visited everyday, in the park you walked by everyday and the city lights that shone through your window at night. all the while, he was on a completely different side of the planet, probably with some other girl. who knew?

no matter where you went, you'd see him. in the bakeries on the street, the coffee shops you visited and the city lights in any city you went to. but there was no confirmation that he felt the same way.

how do I feel you on me when you're not on my skin?

why do you say you want me, then tell me "I'm not coming in"?

baby, just come on in

the two of you had just gotten back from drinks with some friends. being the gentleman he is, he walked you home. your apartment wasn't too far from the bar anyways. despite the space between you two, you could feel his warmth on your skin.

"thanks for walking me home, tom," you stare up at his blue eyes. "it's no problem," he smiles, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. you both slowly lean in, the space between you decreasing with every second.

when your lips finally meet, it's like electricity flowing through your body. your hands cup his face as his snake their way down to your waist. it must've been the hundredth time you two had kissed, but the feeling never went away. as he deepens the kiss, your hands move up from his face to tangle up in his hair. his, move their way down south, finding a home on your ass. 

after a few moments, you two break apart, gasping for breath. you unlock the door behind you, it had been long forgotten as you two kissed. "you coming in?" you ask as you push the door open, looking up at him. "no, i shouldn't stay." he answers, but his eyes tell another story.

you simply nod and bid him goodbye. as you close the door behind you, the once warm feeling that filled you turns cold as you yearn for him to come back. you open the door and shout out, “just come in!”

hearing this he whips his head around with a large grin. he just shakes his head at you and enters your apartment.

'cause every time I'm with you, i go into a zone

and i remember all the places you wanna go

you had mentioned in passing that it had been years since you had gone to an arcade. hearing this, tom took it upon himself to take you. as you two played around on the different games, the world around you fades away. it felt as if you two were the only people in the world. that's how things seemed to work whenever you had tom by your side.

you had noticed the way that you remembered everything tom had said. the places he wanted to go, the food he wanted to eat, and more importantly, the things he wanted to do. you wanted nothing more than to experience it all with him. 

'cause every time i see you, i don't wanna behave

i’m tired of waiting so let’s pick up the pace

whenever you and tom were out in public, you wanted to throw all the pr training you had out the window. it took you everything in you to not start making out with him on the corner of the street as you two waited for some tacos. 

there was just something about tom that made him irresistible to you. "i got the tacos, are you ready to go?" he asks, bag of tacos in hand. "forget the tacos, i want you right now." thankfully, his apartment was nearby. the second he unlocks the door, you push him against the door and kiss him passionately, causing the bag to drop on the floor. 

he returns the passion and aggression, picking you up and pushing you against the door instead. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, causing a moan to slip out of your lip. "bedroom?" you ask as you part momentarily. he doesn't reply, merely nodding before leading you to his bedroom.

remind me why we're taking a break

it's obviously insane

'cause we both know what we want

so why don't we fall in love?

baby, let's fall in love

it had been a few weeks since you had last spoke, let alone seen tom. a stupid argument about god knows what had led to you two taking a break. at this point, you couldn't even remember what it was about. 

you just missed him, even if he was in the wrong. or were you in the wrong? who knew at this point? all you knew was that you wanted to be with him. "tom? i'm sorry, i was being overdramatic. i miss you." you blurt out as soon as he answers the call. "i'm sorry too, i was being overdramatic too.  i miss you. i think i'm falling in love with you." he admits to you, you don't wait a second before responding. "i think i'm falling in love with you too. come over?" "i'll be there in 10." he answers immediately before hanging up, probably in a rush to come see you. you smiled to yourself at his urgency, counting down the seconds until you two reunited. 

you're broken out of your thoughts at the sound of a knock. you quickly get up and open the door to reveal the man who’d been plaguing your thoughts from the moment your eyes met across the crowded room. he wastes no time and embraces you, sealing your lips with his own in a searing kiss.

“i’m sorry or i forgive you. i don’t even remember anymore. but i know that i am sorry for letting something so stupid get in between us. you’re the most important person in my life. i love you, so much.” he confess, your foreheads resting against each other. “i love you too, so, so much.” you move forward to kiss him. “does that mean we’re dating now?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. he laughs hearing that, “i thought we already were dating.” you laugh at his response. “well, we’re definitely dating now.” you declare with a smile.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

The important date [R. L]

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

word count: 5.1k

an: I was very excited to write this. I'm latina and Kuku completely won my heart and I think he's absolutely like a young remus. If you want to read more of this you can tell me and I would be very happy to see a comment or reblog. Kisses!

People who might be interested: @fairysluna @madame-fear @luceracastro @luv4fati

You were quite nervous when you knocked on the door of the modest apartment whose address was written on the folded paper inside your pocket.

You had tried to look your best before leaving the house, but the wind on the way had messed up your appearance slightly and while you waited for a response you ran your hands through your clothes, trying to fix the damage.

After a few seconds no one came out and as you knocked a second time the fear of having gone to the wrong place settled in you. You were startled when the door finally opened and a boy appeared, about your height, with long black hair and whose bare chest was covered in tattoos.

“You aren’t my pizza.”

“Uh, sorry. “I probably went to the wrong house” you exclaimed sadly.

“I don't know if you were wrong, but you can come in if you want,” the boy said, smiling mischievously at you while winking at you and leaning against the door frame.

“You weren't wrong! I'll be there in a moment” a voice spoke from inside. He sounded agitated, but you still recognized him.

The stranger looked at the apartment in disbelief and then looked at you from head to toe, as if he was analyzing the situation.

“Are you coming with Remus?” You nodded. “Okay, so I… Excuse me?”

Without waiting for your response, he half closed the door and then you lost sight of him, leaving you just as confused as at the beginning.

Sirius, oblivious to your sight and hearing, practically stumbled down the hall until he reached Remus' room. He was trying to comb his hair at the same time as the toothbrush rested in his mouth.

“Do you want to explain to me why there is a pretty young lady waiting for you out there?”

“She's my college classmate,” he said in a half-understandable way.

The place was so tiny and there were so many books everywhere that he almost fell when he went to spit the toothpaste into the sink, trying to hurry as much as possible.

The apartment was always messy, in general, but the one who made the least mess was Remus. His only problem was the ridiculous amount of sweaters, boots, and pieces of literature he bought at second-hand places, which had slowly managed to plague his piece of space.

“Are you wearing that expensive cologne you bought last time?” mocked James, who had been in the living room but thought it appropriate to join the conversation. “And you're combing your hair.”

“Is she the one you stay with to study so often?” Sirius insisted, his brain spinning events.

"Yes, sometimes"

“And why did she come here?”

“Because I invited her to dinner.”

"Here?!"

“No, in a restaurant”

Both James and Sirius were slightly taken aback, as there had been no mention of you in any previous talk and it wasn't very common for Remus to do that kind of thing.

“And why didn't you go to her house for her?”

“She said it was on the way,” he responded breathlessly. He was still struggling with putting on his shoes.

“Bad there, Moony. You should be a gentleman and go pick her up at her house instead of keeping her waiting.”

“I would have done it if it hadn't been for the fact that you two idiots forgot to pay the rent that is due today. I had to pass a while ago and the time was barely enough for me”

“Didn't you pay, James?”

“I thought it was your turn!”

“Anyway, that doesn't matter anymore.” Remus got up to search his dressing table for a few golden rings “It's late and I have to go.”

“You can't leave us like this! What's her name? Have you kissed her?”

"He is right. Come on, introduce us to your girlfriend.”

“She's not my girlfriend yet,” he exclaimed, taking a last look in the mirror. He looked good, to have done it so hastily “But I plan for her to be today.”

The jaws of both listeners almost dropped to the floor at that statement and if they were already curious about the stranger's appearance, that had only increased their interest.

“I'm leaving, don't wait up for me.”

"Wait!"

“Bye,” he said, hurrying down the hallway toward the exit.

Sirius and James immediately followed him, but before they could ask anything he had already opened the door.

“Remus.”

"Hi, sweetheart. I’m sorry for the delay,” he apologized benevolently, as he leaned down to kiss your cheek in greeting.

The two curious people managed to see this exchange and then Remus closed the door, but not before giving them a warning look that was responded to with an expression of astonishment and another of pride at what they had just seen.

“How well he kept it, right?”

“Why do you think he didn't want to introduce us?”

“Possibly because you are in pajamas, I flirted with her, and because there are pigs that live in better conditions than us.”

“But he still could have told us something. We are your friends.”

“Give him his space. Maybe it's a nice thing he wants to keep for himself."

“That's why he's been so happy lately,” James reflected.

“Yes, it is likely.”

A knock was heard on the door and the two began to fumble with each other to open it first, eager to be able to see even a moment more of their friend's woman.

But it wasn't them, it was a thin boy dressed in uniform.

“Good evening, Sirius Black?”

“Yes, it's me,” he responded disappointed, taking a bill out of his pocket and receiving the pizza box in his hands while James returned to lie down on the couch.

By this point you and Remus had already left the building. During the way he offered you the full explanation for his lateness, trying so not to get angry with him.

“It's okay, I didn't wait too long,” you reassured him. “I guess those are your roommates.”

“Sirius is the one with the tattoos and James is the one with the glasses.”

“They seem nice”

“They are a little weird, but when you meet them you like them”

With one deft movement Remus placed you on the inside of the sidewalk and both of you took a moment to observe each other. You were wearing a tight white long-sleeved blouse, underneath a strapless dress with a floral print, and you were wearing your comfortable brown leather boots. He, looking completely elegant, in a beige trench coat over a light blue formal shirt and a kind of scarf with lines that combined both colors. For a few months he had been growing his facial hair, which made him look older, but in a good way.

"Where will we go?"

“There is a restaurant a few blocks from here. He looks calm and I thought you might like it. James orders food delivered sometimes and it tastes good.”

“Good” you smiled. You trusted your friend's good judgment in choosing a place.

The truth was that the beginning of your friendship was somewhat curious and you would have to go back a while to understand it.

A few years ago, Remus had his doubts when Sirius and James encouraged him to enter a Muggle university. They had decided after graduating from Hogwarts and moving to the apartment they shared in search of independence and adventure, but the brunette still didn’t have a clear picture of what he wanted for his life. 

Furthermore, he didn’t have as many financial resources as his friends to live comfortably and study at the same time. He allowed himself a year of work to raise money, even without knowing if he would use it for an education or something else, and since in that time he saw that they were both comfortable in what they had chosen, he decided that he could give the Muggles a chance. Although he had some administrative problems, since Hogwarts wasn’t a validated school for those cases, after sending a letter to Albus Dumbledore to ask for help, everything was solved and he was able to enter the philosophy faculty in a modest institution.

Before you, Remus didn't have many friends. He was able to start a conversation with his classmates and function in the classroom, however, he almost always spent his time in his books or at home. Sirius invited him to art school parties but when he attended, beyond drinking and making sure his friends didn't do anything stupid, he didn't do much.

His life had been quiet until you met him a few years later. The link that brought you together was that you had enrolled in an elective sociology class at the university and it turned out that Remus had chosen the same one. Despite being quiet, the boy quickly gained your attention due to the scars on his face and arms, which you still hadn't dared to ask about and he hadn't talked about.

Although you were curious, you tried not to observe him too much so as not to make him uncomfortable, but when he had to present a topic or answer questions it was inevitable to focus all your attention on him.

Remus didn't even notice your interest in him until, as fate would have it, the professor assigned pairs for a project and you were his lucky partner.

During the first meetings he felt out of place and even a little uncomfortable, since he wasn’t so used to spending time with other people outside his circle or studying in company. But he soon began to enjoy working with you and eventually recognized that you were an excellent teammate. You almost always spent it in the library because the atmosphere was calmer, although sometimes you would look for a lonely meadow on campus to lie down and continue moving forward. On one of those occasions you discovered that the boy carried chocolate all the time, because he shared it with you to lighten the hours, and it had become a habit to bring something to eat.

The weeks passed and when you presented the product you obtained the highest grade as well as congratulations from your teacher, with which Remus felt more than satisfied. He thought that once what you had in common was over, you wouldn't want to continue frequenting him, but he was surprised when you started looking for him to have breakfast together and he, to reciprocate, accompanied you some afternoons when you stayed in the library to study or walked with you to the bus stop.

You soon discovered that he was, in addition to being intelligent, kind and that he had many qualities that you liked. Likewise, he saw another set of attributes in you that made him feel the same.

As the weeks passed, you began to get along well and by the middle of the course you could already tell that you were friends. Less than a month after finishing it, you had already fallen in love.

“How is your hand?” Remus asked in the middle of a silence, when you had already gone quite a few blocks.

You had cut yourself by accident a few days ago and when he saw the wound he was quite worried, because it didn't look pretty at all.

“Better, it almost doesn't hurt anymore and the antiseptic helps a lot”

As you said that you raised your palm covered with a big band-aid, as if trying to show him that it was true, and he took the opportunity to capture it with his. Remus had a lot of experience with wounds and wished he could heal them with magic, however, he knew it was forbidden.

"It is good to hear"

He searched you for some sign that you didn't want him to hold your hand but, beyond your flushed cheeks, he found nothing.

You continued walking and talking about some other things until the boy stopped at a picturesque place. A couple of people could be seen through the large glass windows, illuminated by the warm light from inside.

Your hand missed his warmth when he let you go to open the door for you and then you followed him to a free table, with a view of the outside but private enough. All around paintings were decorating and some plants too.

You expected Remus to choose the seat in front of you but he decided that the one next to you was better, with your knees touching under the red table.

“Good evening, welcome,” a young girl, who couldn't be older than your age, greeted you. She was a beautiful redhead and her metal badge said Lily.

After she left a couple of menus, she asked you if you wanted any starters or something to drink, to which you denied.

“I thought we were going to a cafe or something.”

"You don’t like here?” 

“On the contrary, it is too cute. If I had known, I could have worn something better.”

"What are you talking about? You look beautiful,” Remus said, without thinking, and you laughed sheepishly.

“You're not far behind,” your hand went to his neck, where you adjusted a fold “You look like a professor.”

"Is that good or bad?"

“I like the professors. I mean, their style” you stuttered. “They look elegant.”

Although you had never spoken openly about what you felt, both of you had the suspicion that the other person felt the same way. Those moments of indiscreet flirting were signs of this, in addition to the multiple daily actions that showed interest and affection for the other.

Still, Remus felt insecure about himself. The physical marks on him were only the most superficial, since he was too afraid that if he confessed to you about his lycanthropy you would end up being scared or simply believing him crazy. He couldn't talk to you about the magical world and that made it even more complicated.

He didn't have much experience with girls in the romantic sense, but he liked to think that he wasn't doing too badly with you. He really liked you, so he wanted to try as hard as possible to win your heart and hoped that he would be worthy of your affection even despite his various flaws.

When the waitress returned you ordered a glass of wine and Remus simply ordered tea, wanting to be as calm as possible to talk to you. The last thing he wanted was for his statement to be ruined by alcohol.

The moments with him weren't awkward but, honestly, the atmosphere demanded a certain composure and it wasn't until after a while that you started chatting like you always did. You talked about final exams and products to be delivered soon, discussing the topics and making some suggestions that could be useful.

When the girl returned Remus ordered a stew for dinner and you ordered some meat pie which soon arrived. You ate it with pleasure, keeping the conversation when it was appropriate.

“Have you thought about what you will do during the holidays?”

“Probably visit my parents. And if not that, maybe enter a summer seminar”

"Study more?" the brunette laughed.

"It's a possibility. I think it would be too boring if I don't. And you?"

"I don’t know yet. Maybe look for a job, or…”

“Let's take a seminar together,” you murmured excitedly. However, you later added: “I mean, if you want.”

“I might consider it,” he murmured with a tight-lipped smile “So we could spend more time together.”

“It's strange, you know? This semester I have felt so happy studying with you. I didn't think college would be so interesting until I found you in that class."

Remus's heart began to rumble in his chest when he heard you say that and it was inevitable to smile. You liked to see him smile.

“Did I ever tell you I wasn’t sure about going in?”

“To sociology class?”

"To the University"

"Oh really?"

“I thought I could have dedicated myself to something else. In Hog... High School I was a good student and I thought it would be enough to get a job. But James and Sirius entered a college and then I thought I'd do it too."

“Remind me to thank them later,” you joked. If they had not convinced him, you probably would never have met “Will you ever introduce them to me?”

“Do you want to meet them?”

“They are your friends after all, right? But only if you feel comfortable, I wouldn't want to…”

“Okay, that would be great. I just feel a little embarrassed sometimes."

"From me?"

"No! From them. No, don't even think about it from you” he hastened to say and both of you laughed “It's about them. Sometimes they act like idiots, like Sirius did a while ago."

“I thought I was just imagining it, but he's kind of… flirtatious, right?”

"Quite a bit, I would say. I would like it to be limited to girls, but I don't think anyone is safe" he laughed. "But don't worry, he won't bother you anymore now that he knows that you...”

Remus fell silent as he realized what he was about to say and you noticed the sudden interruption.

"That?"

“That you are my friend”

To be honest, the answer disappointed you a little. You had been waiting for any kind of sign or proposal for a while and you thought that statement might have been in the answer. And although Remus already had those plans in mind, you clearly weren't aware of it.

There was silence for a moment as the two of you reflected on the conversation, for different reasons, and you tried to make it less awkward by eating some of your dinner.

“It’s raining,” you said after a while, eager to change the subject “I forgot my umbrella at home”

“We'll figure it out, don't worry,” he said happily, oblivious to the feeling he had provoked in you. You had practically finished your dinner when he asked, “Do you want dessert?”

You nodded at that and ordered a delicious red velvet cake and he, as expected, a chocolate one. After this you tried to talk about something else, convincing yourself that you were thinking about nonsense instead of enjoying the moment with your friend. With the boy you liked. 

At some point he excused himself to go to the bathroom and you were left alone at the table, playing with what was left of food on your plate. You looked around as if expecting to see something interesting, but all you saw was the rain falling outside and a pair of people sitting a few tables away from you. They looked happy and from the way they looked at each other you assumed they were a couple. As you watched them you wondered if that was what people thought when they saw you with Remus, because the way they interacted was the way you did; Is that what other students would say when you spent hours in the library, talking quietly and barely distanced from each other? Did anyone think you were a couple when they saw you laughing lying on the grass at dusk?

You considered the possibility of being the first to confess what you felt and wondered if it would be better to wait. Remus called you sweet names all the time and in the last few weeks he had started to become more physically affectionate; he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, he held your hand from time to time, he even sheltered you in his arms that time you had a terrible morning and all you wanted to do was cry. But did that mean something else or was it just the courtesy of a good friend?

You wanted to continue reflecting on it, but your musings were interrupted by the waitress's voice calling your attention.

"Miss?"

"Yeah?"

"This is for you"

She held a beautiful bouquet of pink carnations with clouds surrounding it, wrapped in white fabric and topped with a ribbon. The sight unsettled you, but out of inertia you extended your hands to hold the gift. It was heavy and gave off a mild smell.

"W-What is this? Who sends it?" 

“The gentleman over there,” she pointed out happily.

For a second you felt nothing but confusion. Had someone been stalking you? You didn't remember anyone you knew when you walked in and receiving flowers from a stranger was ridiculous, because the most you could have imagined was that they would buy you a drink. But when you turned and saw that it was Remus who was smiling shyly at you, you understood what it was about.

“Oh my God…” you whispered barely audible, your cheeks turning red “Thank you, you’re so kind.”

“To serve you” she exclaimed, probably happy to have been a participant in that demonstration of love, and then she withdrew.

Trying to calm yourself down, you turned around to talk to the boy, who was still sitting on the stool in front of the bar. You spent a few seconds looking at each other, him slightly uneasy and you feeling completely blushing.

“Are you not going to accompany me? I have some cake that the boy I was with left”

“You'd have to be a fool to abandon a girl like you,” he muttered on the way to the table. He sat on the opposite side to where he was initially, as if he wanted to maintain the fantasy of being someone else who accompanied you. “Did you like them?”

“They are beautiful, you wouldn't have bothered”

“They have something there” he pointed out and in his eyes you could see some nervousness. You took a paper envelope between your fingers from which you took out a small note.

A modest gift for the most beautiful and interesting girl I have ever met. I feel like you brought color to my life and every day I am happy that you found me, wondering what I did to deserve the grace of such a wonderful human being.

It's been a while since my heart has been uneasy about your feelings towards me and at the same time certain about how it feels about you.

I'm sorry if I'm not that good with words, or that good in general. I just hope I'm enough to win your affection and be lucky enough for you to say yes.

Sincerely, Remus.

The boy watched you with a mixture of anxiety and concern as you read the words, waiting for what your reaction might be. You read the entire note twice, just to be sure it meant what you thought, and then you looked at him.

In your eyes, he had never looked more handsome.

“Say yes?” was the only thing you managed to say. It was the part that intrigued you the most about the note.

“To the question I want to ask you, of course” 

“You're not going to ask me to marry you, are you?” you tried to joke, feeling your heart race with anticipation.

"Not yet. But we can start as girlfriend and boyfriend, what do you say?”

Remus was a very curious guy. He was shy and quiet at times, but when an idea got into his head no force could convince him otherwise: he was determined. And he was sure what he wanted with you.

One of your hands went up to his cheek and your thumb caressed one of his scars, one that went down to touch his lips, feeling free to be able to observe him more closely now that you knew you could do so.

"This bothers you?" you asked sincerely.

"What?"

“That I am touching you like this. Your scars”

"I don't mind. I've gotten used to them."

“That was the first thing I noticed about you.”

“Do you think they are ugly?”

“I think they make you look sexy,” you said honestly again and he let out a laugh that was somewhere between nervous and amused. “They make you stand out.”

You were so close to him that he had to lean just a little to kiss you.

“I don't think anyone has ever said that about them.”

“I really like you, Rem. That's why. And I would like to pretend that I need to think about it more, but I know I would be very happy with you. I already am, but... I want to be with you"

“Is it a yes, then?”

“But first I need to do something” you explained and with the help of your hand, without giving him time for anything, you brought him closer to steal a kiss.

Remus gasped in surprise, but put up no resistance and delighted in feeling the taste of your lips mixing with the chocolate he had previously eaten. You were kind and careful with him, who tried to reciprocate as best as possible. 

When you separated from him, your cheeks were red and your eyes were bright.

“It's a yes”

“Did you need to kiss me to decide?”

“I had already decided, I just wanted an excuse.”

And then Remus laughed again. Unable to contain his excitement, he approached you until he hid his face in your neck, trying to drown out his blush, and you felt tickled by his hair rubbing against your skin. Now the closeness of that way between you was correct, no one could say anything and you had the right to do so.

“I was so afraid you would say no.”

“Have you seen how I look at you?” you murmured in his ear “To be so intelligent you miss a lot of things.”

His breathing told you that he was laughing and then you were silent for a moment. Your hand slowly caressed his side while you traced patterns on his back, although he probably didn't feel them because of the layers of clothing he was wearing. Through it all, you thought about how nice the boy's warmth felt against you. Like it felt meant to be.

“We should go,” he said, when he finally left his room and looked at the time on the wall clock. Closing time was almost approaching. “Is it okay if I call a taxi to take you home?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll go pay the bill and be right back, okay?”

“Let me give you some money…”

"No way. No,” he stated firmly. He got up from his seat and, by the way, now he stole a kiss from you “Wait here.”

You did it obediently and while you did it you took the opportunity to observe and caress your bouquet. They were beautiful and you wondered how Remus had planned the delivery. It hadn't been something spontaneous, he already knew the purpose of the date from the beginning and that only made you feel more like a girl in love.

He showed up a few minutes later and, after thanking your red-headed cupid profusely, you waited for your taxi at a table near the exit. When it arrived you practically had to run to avoid the rain, but that didn't matter to you because while you were doing it the brunette held your hand to prevent any accident.

The elderly driver started the engine after you told him your address and silence reigned for a moment, with only the barely audible music from the radio.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” you asked, after a few blocks. No one lived with you and it seemed cruel to you to send Remus back to his apartment.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“There is enough space. And you must be tired”

You weren't trying to make a sexual innuendo in your words. You just wanted to make the moment last as long as possible.

Remus agreed without much resistance and upon arriving at your apartment, which fortunately was in order, he was respectful by telling you that he could sleep on the couch if you wanted. He seemed so decent to you that you accepted his proposal, taking charge of bringing him enough blankets and pillows to make him comfortable.

He had already taken off his shoes and jacket when you sat down next to him to wish him goodnight. You didn't think he would look much more handsome unkempt and with disheveled hair than he did at first.

"Thanks for the invitation"

“It's the least I could do after everything today,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Was it a good date?”

“It was a great date” you exclaimed honestly and for the third time that night you approached him to kiss him.

This time you took the time to savor the contact, prolonging it as much as possible and causing a spark to settle between you. Remus quickly learned that your lips were soft and definitely more expert than his, with all of that making him feel a little dizzy. You reveled in the feeling of his large hands holding your waist, not knowing where else it was correct to place them. If you could have, you would have kissed him all night, but you separated only because you knew that the desire existed in you and him, afraid that if you followed your prudence wouldn’t be enough to stop you from making love to him on that sofa.

He looked completely enthralled with you as you watched him and you knew you most likely had the same expression. After all, so many months of longing between you were summed up in the pleasure of that physical contact that you were discovering.

“Go to sleep, pretty,” he suggested “I'll be here in the morning.”

“Good night, Remus. If you need anything, go to my room, okay?”

A part of you wanted him to look for you in the middle of the night, but you knew that both of you were hesitant to make any moves to go to such extremes. The boy just nodded and then, still not convinced, you headed towards your room so you could sleep.

That night Remus dreamed of you and you dreamed of him, with the sound of the rain lulling you, only a few meters away between you, and a beautiful bouquet resting on your nightstand.

You didn't know if that was happiness, but at least that's what it felt like.

[artficlly]

a dish served cold (mini series - part one)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x reader after the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. fate brings you to crimson junction for a reason, and that reason is bucky barnes. 

Warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, violence, mentions of death, blood, mention of guns, alcohol, swearing, creepy men, period typical attitudes, outlaw bucky, protective bucky, bucky has issues, mention of robbery & crimes, mention of police (law), mention of flooding & drought, vague mention of animal death, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 3k

A/N: hiya! it's been awhile. i started a first draft of this story literally like a year ago? it's gone through so many changes to the plot (it was originally called queen of the gunslingers). this has been so refreshing and wonderful to write, i wasn't even sure if i was ever going to post it because western marvel au is so niche but i know a few people enjoyed me & the devil so!! this mini series is pre written so i'll be trying to post updates weekly as i edit. the series is sitting around 25k-30k words and will be 7 chapters long. if you'd like a tag list let me know. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

Rain was supposed to be a welcome sight. 

The inhabitants of Crimson Junction had been thankful for the blessing, a relief from the drought that had plagued them. The surrounding areas had been unceremoniously crowned The Dustbowl after seven years of no rain. Fierce winds had blown in, kicking up the dirt, sand, and dust, blanketing the surrounding areas. Crops failed to grow, animals suffocated, and homes were buried. Most left the area, choosing to abandon their land in search of fruitful and safe territories.

The canyons bled crimson the day the rains came; water mixed with the red soil and rock. The people of Crimson Junction celebrated, their prayers were finally answered. It was only as the valleys began to flood and the once barren riverbeds overflowed that the inhabitants considered the bleeding waters an omen. 

Those who lived out in the west were familiar with danger. Out in the open, death lurked everywhere. It watched from the desert, a darkness always lingering a few feet away. Death took on many forms—a bullet, a wound, a sickness—but when the rain came disguised as a blessing, no one was prepared for its wrath. 

Floods wiped away entire homesteads. Homes and countless heads of cattle were lost to the raging waters, swept downstream, and smashed between debris. Survivors, soaked and shivering in their nightgowns and nightshirts, gathered in the small crossroads town of Crimson Junction. Fortunately, the town had been spared, but it had become an island, isolated in a lake of thick, deep, red mud. Travellers and misplaced locals sought shelter, and the town came to life overnight. The canyons were unstable and too dangerous to travel due to the landslides and debris blockages, and with mud up to your elbows, it would be impossible to walk through, let alone lead a packhorse. So, you were all stranded, patiently waiting until the roads were cleared. 

It appeared fate had led you to Crimson Junction for a reason. 

The hotel attendant sighed as you descended the stairs of the rickety building, the older man muttering about the mud tracked in through the entrance. Even Crimson Junction had not been spared the sludge. The thick, red substance appeared to be a problem in every establishment in the area, gradually caked onto not only your clothes and shoes but also the flooring. 

You gave the attendant a shy nod of your head as you exited into the night. The chill of the night air bit at your bare skin, and you were suddenly grateful for the layers of skirts that pooled around your legs. The road so far had been hot and sticky, with layers of dust that clung to your skin. When it was not still and scorching, the winds would whip violently. Sand and rocks had pelted you, leaving your skin stinging and your hair tangled. The floods had allowed the temperature to finally drop below the pits of hell. 

You hesitantly depart the porch of the motel, the heels of your riding boots clicking as you lower yourself onto the street. Wooden planks squelched under your weight as they sank deeper into the sludge. The town had tried to combat the muck by laying out boards to traverse, but despite their good intentions, the wooden boards seemed to sink deeper and deeper with each passing day. The streets echoed something more akin to a pigsty than a walkable path. 

With the chill in the air, you hugged your arms around your bodice, still making sure to hike up your skirts to prevent them from dragging through the mud. Ever since finding yourself stuck after the rains, you had resigned yourself to your hotel room. You slept and read to pass the time, and your horse was boarded at the stables for a hefty price. But after days of waiting and your funds running low, you found yourself feeling rather antsy, your impatience growing the longer you waited. With impatience came risk and rash decisions, so, against your better judgement, you opted for a strong drink at the saloon to quieten your mind. 

The saloon was alive with music and chatter, with other stranded travellers slurring their words or in a state of undress despite the sun only having recently set. You expected many of them to have wondered into the establishment not long after awakening from whatever alley they had drunkenly stumbled into the night before. It certainly smelled like it, with clothing plastered in mud to match. The chaos allowed you to slip in quietly, finding an empty spot along the bar. You frowned at the coating of muck congealed onto the floor, a mixture of questionable liquids you did not want to identify. With a wave of your hand and coins slid over the sticky bar, you were content staring into space as laughter and singing broke out around you. 

Your peace was short-lived. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a looming shape as a body slid in beside you. Your eyes stayed locked on your drink, only noticing the scent of whiskey and sweat clinging to the man. 

“Where have you been hidin’, Miss? I ain’t never seen a woman as pretty as you in these parts.”

You expected a lady such as yourself to be few and far between in these lands. Most of the folks who roamed this far into the desert were hardy, stocky, and rough around the edges. You did not fault them for it, but rather a sense of admiration for the determination it had taken to live through the seven years of drought. You were, arguably, a bit delicate in appearance. Though, it was a purposeful presentation. Pristine and shining among the filth. Your hands were smooth; there were no calluses or scars. Hair neatly pinned back, and a clean and tidy handkerchief knotted around your neck. Your skin was untainted by the sun, and your lips were unpeeled. Your dress, though not the height of city fashion, was impractical for such a lifestyle as farming or droving. The layers of fabric were orderly, with intermittent embroidery and lace. You had lived a comfortable life, and it was clear you were raised to be a wife and homemaker. Your Pa had worked hard to afford you such a future.

“Not from these parts.” You spoke into your glass as you raised it to your lips with an eye-roll. A gentle girl you might have been to your Pa, but he was not present. And you were not feeling particularly in favour of being pleasant. 

“Traveller, like myself. Guessin’ you stuck ‘cause of the floods too?” The man mused, leaning his forearms against the sticky bar. He shifted his body forward, craning his neck as if desperate to catch a proper glimpse at your face. 

“Somethin’ like that.” You respond dryly, unmoving. 

“Say, you interested in havin’ a good night, sweetheart? I got a room in the hotel over yonder if you wanna join me.” 

Grinding your teeth in annoyance, you jerk your head around to face the man.

“What do you take me for?” You snap at him. You take note of his greying hair and the locks thinning along his hairline. His beard, with uneven, yellowing teeth revealed by cracked lips, turned into a sneer. 

“I didn’t mean no insult, darlin’.” He starts, “I ain’t insinuating you’re an easy mark, sweetheart. Just knew I couldn’t let a catch like you go walkin’ out of here without at least tryin’.”

“Charmin’,” you huff. “Did you not consider that I would never want to lay with a dimwitted pest such as yourself?” As you speak, you can see his once-toothy grin harden into gritted teeth and a look of drunken rage wash over his features. 

"Well, ain’t you a quick one, huh?” He spits out, his body looming closer. Only moments before the two of you had been invisible, another set of bodies in the crowded saloon. As his voice began to rise, you could feel heads turning and eyes locking onto the both of you as the scene unfolded. “A fuckin’ tease, ain’t ya? Hangin’ around this bar all by yourself, askin’ for it. You tellin’ me a lady like yourself travelling alone ain’t some whore lookin’ for some attention?”

You roll your eyes once more, shooting back the last of your drink. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to remain in your hotel room. Back turned, you begin to walk away from the seething man. In your brief moment of naivety and vunrablitiness, he wraps his mud-clad hands around your forearm, yanking you backwards towards the bar. 

“Now where ya think you’re goin’ now, miss? I weren’t done talkin’ to you.” He hissed into your ear, the stench of his warm whiskey breath fanning across your face. You began to lower your hands, reaching for your riding boot. Your fingers gathered your skirts, entangling themselves in the fabrics as you hoisted up the layers. Your hands drew closer to your knees, your back pressing into the hardwood bar, twisting your torso away from the man. 

A gruff voice quickly interrupted, drawing your attention away. 

“You know this man, ma'am?” The low voice asks. You glance over at it’s owner, a dark-haired man, and look him over with one sweep. 

The man was familiar to you, though he wouldn’t know you. Out of all of the towns you had visited in the past few weeks, there was scarcely any that failed to have his likeness plastered upon a bounty board. James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky, as he was more commonly known. The papers and gossip of fellow travellers spun a tale, one of a group of heartless butchers and thieves. He was wanted for a train robbery gone wrong in the south. A decent price upon his head, as well as that of his gang. From what you had read, the group had split in an attempt to lose the law. One had gone north, another deeper south, while Barnes had gone west. 

The posse of outlaws had been lucky, as the law had hurridly dismissed the chase; a different high-profile robbery had drawn their attention away. One they had prioritised more than the livelihoods of the lowerclass who had been on the train that day. Bounty hunters still pursued, but mostly the world moved on. Some Duke from Europe had been robbed while exploring the west too trustingly, and the story had become an overnight sensation. So Barnes and his companions had become a distant whisper, a sun-bleached and fraying poster behind a bar. 

But you had not forgotten Bucky Barnes. 

“No.” You finally choke out in reply, your hand raising back to thigh-height as you stand tall. When faced with a killer, you had anticpated a feeling of disgust, but instead a burning curiosity roared through your veins. 

Barnes lets out a slow breath, his eyes darting over the unwelcome man. Barnes was easily twice his size, with pure muscle and a wicked look in his eye. There was a charm to him, you supposed, in a rugged, dark-handsome stranger, saviour of damsels in distress type of way. Messy dark hair peaked out from beneath his hat; some pieces curled around the nape of his neck. Behind his dark lashes were icy blue eyes, with the crinkle of a smirk at the corners. Like many others, there was a hint of red earth dusted across his face, neck, and hands. The clothes covering his broad, muscled body looked well-worn, and his boots were caked in mud. You noted the two revolvers slung around his hips and a bandolier stocked with ammunition across his chest.

“Do you want to know this man?” He asks again.

You lift your chin. “No.”

“Good.”

Before you can react, Barnes has leapt forward, landing a solid upper-cut on the drunk man with a grunt. The room erupted into cheers and whistles as the two clashed, glasses smashing and furniture overturned in their wake. You stood frozen, fingers in a white fist around your skirts. There was the sickening sound of bones crunching beneath flesh, and blood sprayed in droplets across sodden floors. As quickly as it started, it was over. One of the bartenders promptly escorted the unruly man out as he seethed and yelled obscenities. The saloon crowd roared back, a pulse of excitement and adreline rushing through the saloon. Barnes put his hands up in surrender as the barkeep eyed him cautiously, but the barkeep inevitably backed off, returning to safety behind the bar. Barnes sweeps a hand through his messy locks, his eyes darting around in search of his hat, which had been knocked to the floor. 

Against your better judgement, you bend down, retrieving the hat. You brush some of the red dust and broken glass from the brim before handing it back to the outlaw. He places it solidly back on his head.

“I appreciate your concern, but you didn’t need to do that, Mr.” You tell him, and he shrugs. 

“If you say so.” Barnes goes to turn away, then thinks better of it. Sucking his teeth, he tilts his head, looking you up and down once again. His eyes linger on your hair, then your dress, before finally settling on your clenched fists. “You travellin’ alone, Miss?”

“I don’t see why that's any of your business, Mr…?” You trail off, fingers flexing as you force yourself to loosen the grip on your skirts.

“Mr. Clark. Benjamin Clark.”

A false name. Clever. 

“Right.” 

He chuckles with a shake of his head, tapping the bar for a drink to be sent his way. Exhaustion seems to embody his very being; fatigue hangs from his bones like his own flesh and muscle. He doesn’t seem to notice your analysing stare; his focus is instead drawn to wiping off the splatter of blood that had been spat in his face at some point during the commotion. 

“Look, Miss…?” He begins with a sigh, finally looking you in the eye. 

“Nellie Chase.” You lie through your teeth, watching him through your eyelashes. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he looks down at you. 

“Look, Miss Chase. I don’t know yer circumstances, but it ain’t safe for a lady such as yerself to be travellin’ alone, especially in these parts. I imagine you was just passin’ through like the rest of us, then got stuck ‘cause of all that rain. But, with men and women of all sorts all trapped up together like this… well, it’s bound to cause trouble. You’d be better to stay locked up in your rooms, Miss; it would be safer than roughin’ it out with this lot.” 

You hold back a scoff and instead opt to lift your chin. A smirk pulls at the corners of your mouth as you take a step closer to the outlaw, eyebrows raised and head cocked to one side. “Well, thank you for your wisdom, Mr. Clark, but I am perfectly capable of handlin’ myself.”

A glass of whiskey was now in his hand, and you coolly slid over a coin to pay for it before he could. He blinks at you in surprise, and you flash him a grin in response. With narrowed eyes, he swallows back half of the amber liquid. 

“I imagine so.” He lets out gruffly. “Where are ya’ headed?”

“Saguaro Basin.” 

“Saguaro Basin? Wha’chu doin’ headed that way? Last I heard, there was some bad business in those parts. Cholera and all that.”

“I’m goin’ to be married.” You make a point of flashing the ring on your finger, which is met with a half-interested grunt. He didn’t seem to question how garish it was or how the metal did not match the earrings dangling from either side of your head. Though you imagined, you could not expect a man to notice such details as a woman might. 

“Yer gettin’ married and yer husband-to-be ain’t even got the time to come get’chu himself?”

“Well, I imagine he is quite busy workin’, and it is such a long distance to get there and back. So he paid for me to take the coach, as it is supposed to be safer—” You cut yourself off with a frown as you notice his eyebrows raise. You clear your throat as you decide to shift the topic. “So, where are you headed then, Mr. Clark?”

“Same as you. West. Bit further, though maybe more Marielle ways.”

“Marielle… that’s…?” You trail off. You knew exactly where Marielle was, nestled deep into the western deserts and canyons. Once, it was the home of outlaws, whores, and rustlers. These days, it had been transformed into some sort of respectable town with the help of the law and the church. In fact, it seemed the now bustling town had grown in size from it’s humble beginnings and was becoming a hotspot of trade and business in the deep west. You’d heard mention of the fearsome prison that had been erected not two years ago, where prisoners were subject to hard labour while awaiting their sentencing. 

“Long past Saguaro Basin, that’s for sure.”

“Right.”

You were met with silence, but continue to pry. Would he spin a grand, elaborate tale just as you had done yourself? Or would he tell the truth—a raw, bitter confession of guilt to just another pretty, misplaced lady stuck in Crimson Junction? This was all rather exciting. 

“What brings you there? Business, pleasure… family?” 

“Business.”  

“What kind?” You dare to push further. 

“Not the type’a business a lady such as yerself would be interested in.” 

“How so?” You seem to be out of luck; as the outlaws patience had grown thin. You could practically hear the tension snap as he let out a low ‘hmph’, reluctant to answer the question. Your fingers dance across the sticky bar as you ponder if you should push your questions further, but Barnes had other plans. Taking a long swig from his glass, he finishes the last of his whiskey and gets to his feet. 

“Well, Miss Chase, I thank you for the drink but I must be goin’ now. And you should get back to yer rooms and keep outta’ trouble now.”

The outlaw did not stay long enough to hear your farewell, preferring to slink wordlessly out of the building. With a smile, you lean against the bar, motioning for the barkeep to get you another drink. 

Fate had led you to Crimson Junction for a reason, and how gratifying it was to know why.

PART TWO

[xylianasblog]

Hi bbygirl <3 !! I HAVE REQUEST🗣️🗣️🧨

so could u write me one where like the reader is neteyams “rival” but like she doesn’t like him bc she thinks he’s tryna be better than everyone and she thinks he’s like conceited but in reality he’s just tryna be the best FOR HER and one day she over hears him telling someone tht no matter what he does the reader will never like him and she does kinda like him but not as much as he likes her. (PLS I BEG U HAPPY ENDING. ION WANNA CRY.) and yeah idk take it from there 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thin line.

Pair: AgedUp! Neteyam x NaviFem reader

Summary: Neteyam couldn’t understand why you hated him when all he wanted to do was love you.

Warnings: MDNI, possessive Neteyam, fingering, choking, p in v, oblivious reader, established (arranged) relationship.

꒦꒷❀꒷꒦ ❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦MDNI ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀ ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦

For as long as you could remember you always disliked Neteyam, at least that’s what you had told yourself.

And maybe you did hate him, he was too.. perfect everything about him was everything you weren’t. So why were you picked by Eywa to be his arranged mate? The news was something you had a strong dislike for yet what could you do about it?

After the declaration by the Tsahik you avoided Neteyam like the plague, picking arguments here and there for the fuck of it. You refused to give him the satisfaction of having you fall at his feet just after everyone else did.

Once day while you were out hunting you came across Neteyam and his friends near the river. Neteyam looked upset as he spoke to the guys. “I wish she would stop fighting me, I don’t understand why she hates me.” Her spoke throwing his head back to show just how frustrated he was by this all. “She’s too stubborn to see that I’m in love with her and don’t give me the-“ you didn’t say to hear the rest of what was said, and as quietly and quickly as you could you left the area. Your mind racing with so many thoughts and questions.

Your mind couldn’t process anything you had heard, that’s impossible. Maybe it wasn’t maybe he had always tried to show you, maybe you were the problem and not Neteyam. “Sevin, it is late we should go.” Neteyam said. “I’ve been looking around for you everywhere.” Your brow bones furrowed as you turned to him, still trying to make sense of everything.

“You are an asshole, why did you not tell me before? Why wait? Why did you let me go around hating you for so long Neteyam?” You yelled at him your frustration bubbling up before you could even think about the words you were saying, and instead of waiting for an answer you turned to stomp away angrily. At least that was the plan until neteyams hand wrapped around your throat, turning your body to face his, his amber eyes held his anger like that of a volcano whose burning lava was ready to erupt. Maybe you had pushed him too far,as he held your throat, pulling your face closer. Your lips just a few centimeters from his. “You know paskalin… there’s a thin line between love and hate.”

Your breath caught in your throat, all the words died instantly as you felt an all to familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t think you hate me, in fact..” he didn’t finish his sentence as he captured your lips in a heated kiss. His hold on your neck tightened as he forced his tongue into your mouth, establishing every last bit of dominance he could. You placed your hands on his chest to push at him, hating that your body reacted so submissively to the kiss for a moment. He pulled away to glare down at you. “Stop fighting and just let me have you. Let me love you as I have been trying to do.” He whispered, every last emotion he had as he spoke once more. “Just let me have you in the way I crave..”

Who were you to fight him? To deny him of the one thing he had been trying so hard to prove himself worthy of having?

Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as your gaze dropped down to his lips, the frown on your face couldn’t be helped. You felt nothing yet everything all at once, your emotions were working in overdrive. You know one thing though, this was always a certain that never seemed to go away, especially not when you pulled him into another kiss.

Neteyam was caught off guard for a second his body easily responding, the kiss was sloppy and heated. All the pent up frustrations over the years came boiling forward in the form of the kiss. Hasty movements as you both worked to rid the other of the clothing that covered your body, a fight for dominance, neither working or wanting to back down.

Soon your sweaty bodies were a mess on the mossy ground, hands touching and feeling every place you both could without a care in the world. Neteyams fingers found your dripping entrance, teasing and fucking into you slowly. His lips kissing and sucking on random parts of your neck and chest, leaving his marks in angry vibrate colors of purplish red. He took his time with your needy cunt, bringing you to the edge of release over and over again. He took his time using his fingers to bring you the pleasure you had always dreamed about, and soon enough you both became one it felt as if everything within Pandora was aligned.

As Neteyam thrusted in and out of you roughly, not sparing you a single thrust as he forced you to take all of him, every single inch of his throbbing length disappeared into your aching cunt. Your cries muffled by his covering your mouth to keep you both protected while you both got lost in each other’s bodies.

In the quiet of the night where you finally welcomed the love of Neteyam, each new round of being fucked into by the man you hated. You realized there really is a thin line.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳ ༻❀✿❀༺➳ ༻❀✿❀༺ ➳

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamsoare @criticallybella @sunfyresrider @neteyamsyawntu @tiredmamaissy @headsincloud9 @etherialblackrose @blue-slxt @justcaptiannoodles @neteyamyawne @oakbuggy @hotdsworld @plooto @itchaboi-itchyboy @eywaite @luvv4j4ybe11 @quicktosimp @cardi-bre91 @torukmaktoskxawng @rivatar @thepeonysbackup @tallulah477

[nctstar]

1.

“Stop that.” He whispered against the skin of your neck. “You know he wouldn’t care.”

“That’s the problem. We need to do this properly.”

“You know why we can’t do that.”

pairing: johnyong x fem!reader (no romantic johnyong ship)

other members: none

word count: 3.7k

genre: romance, angst, with a side of smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! profanity, y/n has migraines (pretty severe!), semi-public sex, oral (fem receiving), cheating (? it's complicated), sleeping with your ex, some freaky kissing

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: hi guys, i'm alive :D i've had a lot of ideas recently and a steamy johnyong drama was one of them, and then my eyes feasted upon acne studios event johnny and i finally got the push i needed to go through with writing it :) writing slump over we all cheered wooooo. also, ik it's kinda ~confusing~ rn. this is a series so just trust me okayyyy. also, i love making fic playlists and here's the one for this fic. if you picked up that this is loosely based on the 5SOS song blender pls marry me rn <3 nobody get's 5SOS like I do I swear :( pls hmu if you get me

You wouldn’t have noticed him at all, if it wasn’t for the way you watched Taeyong’s deep brown eyes flicker past you, shadows of stories passing by like it was nothing. You thought nothing of it, but your head turned, your body in tune with his more than you realised. And, just like a bad case of fate, there he was.

Johnny Suh.

He walked in like he owned the place, as he always did. His cocky demeanour hung off his body perfectly, like the oversized leather jacket he wore everywhere he went. His smile made the girl waiting on him eagerly blush, something that made you both angry and a little wistful. Your gaze lingered on far too long. And, as usual, like he always did, Taeyong pretended he didn’t notice. He always pretended, even when you were so far gone, he felt like he was pulling you out of quicksand.

“What colour looks better on me, jagiya?” Switching to Korean was your safety net, something sacred between only you and him, more intimate than the restless nights you spent tangled up in bed, Johnny’s presence a mere afterthought. You turned to Taeyong’s back, his slender body on display in the full-length mirror in front. You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as you both locked eyes through his reflection.

“Black.”

The seriousness, properness in the air was almost palpable, like you both were being watched, tested and graded. Not a single wrong movement, or breath. It was unbearable and at the same time, so tantalizing, like something could break the surface at any moment. Moving forward, you brought a hand up and over his shoulder, letting your fingers run over his collarbone. “Yeah. Definitely black.”

Taeyong kissed your hand, and you tried to remember when he took your hand in his. “I wanna show you a few more items. In there.” He cocked his head ever so slightly to the curtained fitting rooms, so subtle, meant to remain a secret between the two of you.

Not thinking about Johnny was like trying not to let the plague take over your body. He seeped through you like the truth, feeling right in every scenario. And in this moment, as you let Taeyong run his mouth down the valley of your breasts, your skin erupting in flames underneath his lips, you shut your eyes, and there was Johnny. Your feet on his toned calves, your hands around his thick cock. But when you opened your eyes, there was Taeyong, between your legs, right here, right now.

You clamped your mouth, moans threatening to spill out. “Oh god,” you whispered through your fingers. “R-right ther-haah…” Your thighs constricted around his head as he quickened his pace, both of your hands behind you to hold you upright.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Fuck.

It’s like someone had drawn the curtains back on you both in this compromising position. You moved away first, shoving yourself back on the complimentary bench you weren’t sure how many others had done unholy things on, Taeyong shortly after, watching your face redden with every passing second.

Johnny continued. “This one’s a little small, sweetheart. I run larger than that, you know?” You could almost see him winking at her, smiling that god-awful smile that made every woman melt like putty under his gaze. As if on cue, she giggled.

Fuck. Him.

“Come here, baby.” You spoke softly, both hands unhooking your bra as you kneeled in front of Taeyong, shuffling closer so your tits pressed again his torso, clad in a compression shirt. He groaned. “Fuck.” He grabbed your face, kissing you deeply and pushing you down to the floor.

Thirty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat, the days shopping in various sized bags in the back. You were both silent, the radio playing some obscure song neither of you knew. With the windows down, the air still felt hot and heavy, pressing onto your skin. You played with the strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck, squinting as Taeyong turned a corner and the blaze of the mid-afternoon sun poured into your eyes.

“I ended up getting both.”

“Hmm?” Condensation slipped inside your palm as you played with the cold water bottle next to the gear shift.

“Both of the caps.”

“You bought caps? You have so many at home.” The answer felt involuntary, combined with the frustration of the hot weather and lack of food since brunch. He frowned, and you immediately felt guilty. “Sorry, I mean like-“

“You said you liked the black one. You were right there.”

You felt a deep shame somewhere buried inside you as you mentally flicked back to the moments in the dressing room. The plague was making you really sick now, making you notice things you didn’t need at all, and throwing out memories of things that you really did. “R-right. Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to snap. It’s just so hot today.” You meant to chuckle, to lighten the mood, but your body could not go through with it. Instead, the both of you sat in uncomfortable silence.

The silence stretched on for agonising miles, as it usually did. Nowadays, when you weren’t having dry, stationery conversations, you were exploring each other’s bodies like it was what you were supposed to do as a couple. Not out of passion, or lust. Just because. Your eyes kept drifting closed, the will to keep them open slipping further away from your grasp. You just wanted to be in bed…alone, slipping through the mattress and into the floor, deeper, and deeper.

You finally woke with a jolt at the sound of the door close. Your makeup felt far too heavy on the skin of your face, the ache in your feet now screaming at you. “Baby, wait.” The phrase disappeared into the air unheard, but you stepped out of the car, right in the face of a camera.

“_, _!”

Shit. How did they find us?

“Are you here alone? Who drove you here? Tell us a bit about the man in your car…” You admired the man’s insistence at his job. His passion, however intrusive and idiotic, was majorly inspiring at this phrase of your life.

Shut the fuck up, you wanted to say. You kept a stern face instead, hoping your eyes would communicate that instead. “No thanks.” You side-stepped him strategically, a new throbbing in the left side of your temple starting to grow. Fuck, not again. You tried to breathe, in, out, in, out, but the rhythm caught in your throat, your vision began to grow blurry, and you stumbled uncomfortably in your sneakers that now felt like they weighed tons.

“Ma’am? Are you alright?” You heard the man’s keys before his footsteps, the sound of his camera flashing as he approached. The light was blinding, and you dropped to your knees as the flashing sounds continued, like gunfire on a field of soldiers.  

Who the fuck still used bright-ass flash?

“Who the fuck still uses flash!” It was a yell, from maybe about 10 metres away, but the ringing in your ears fogged it up like it was underwater. You tried to focus on your breathing, but your heart didn’t care about your wellbeing, apparently, speeding up at the sound of his voice. “Get away from her, right now.” The voice, still foggy, felt closer to you, and you felt an arm around your middle pulling you gently upwards. He whispered, “Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.”

Your pain spiked at the thought of the busy, lighted McDonalds as you walked away from the man with the flash camera, somehow on the floor of the car park now. “It needs to be dark, and quiet. It won’t stop unless it is.”

Johnny made a noise of sympathy. “I know, I remember.”

You only then registered the tears, wet on the heavy-set makeup on your face. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, a weird sense of guilt throbbing just as hard as your migraine deep in your gut. He was still walking you somewhere, and you just let him, no energy to care about anything other than the pain in your temples. He soothed you gently through whispers of something inaudible, but his breath felt warm and welcoming on your neck, and, despite it all, you were grateful for his presence.

“Go lie in the back, okay?” He shoved his jacket off as he spoke. “No cologne today. You can put it over your face. Don’t worry about anything.” You nodded, the familiar routine flooding back into you like water in on a dehydrated rock.   

Time passed like the way months pass in a busy year, and the next time you took a long, deep breath, you opened your eyes to the sensation of a firm, cold, king-sized bed. The room was dimly lit, enough so you could make out the outlines of the furniture in the room, but not bright enough to read anything if it was written on the walls. There was no lingering smell in the air, only the faint scent of your own shampoo, and no sound at all except the light ringing in your ears, much less strong than before. Your muscles relaxed like you were in a hot bath after a long day – safe, relaxed, nothing on your mind. You fell back asleep in seconds.

You woke what seemed like hours later. The room was significantly darker now, no more dusk light glowing from behind the curtains. The door was slightly ajar, and you registered voices this time coming from beyond.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“She was having a bad one. And, why would I have needed to call you?” You put on the slippers next to your bed without thinking, wrapping the robe you forgot you put on tight around your body. “You weren’t even there with her. What were you thinking?”

“Johnny, don’t. I stepped out to get something for her.”

“You should have known she would have the episode today. There are always signs.”

“You just said it was that asshole’s fault!”

You walked in the kitchen to see Johnny turned away, Taeyong at the end of the counter. When you met Taeyong’s eyes, you watched them widen as he stepped towards you. “Oh, honey.” You held him, his hand pressing the nape of your neck towards himself. “I was so worried. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. As you pulled away, Taeyong pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling away to look into your eyes and stroke the sides of your face. “You look so tired, sweetie. I should have noticed.”

“Really, it’s fine, love.” You kissed him back, making awkward eye contact with Johnny towards the end. Shuffling awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “Um, we should get going.”

“No, you’re staying for dinner.” Johnny threw a towel over his shoulder in a way that was comical, almost making you laugh. You smiled, trying to ease the situation. “Johnny, really. I appreciate it, but-“

“There’s no way you both can drive all the way back to the apartment.” Your heart skipped as you heard him say the and not your. That one word gave you that illusion that time had stopped, and that the past 10 months had all been a dream, and you were still there, in the kitchen, pressed up against his body without a care.

You shook your head, willing the memories and coming back into reality all at the same time. “You can’t. You’ve just had your worst episode. No thanks to that grade A fucktard who doesn’t know how to use a camera in the 21st century.” He rolled his eyes. “Car trips will make you nauseous.”

“No! I mean,” you rubbed your head. “Me and Taeyong, we have this, um, this event…” You knew it was a weak argument, but you threw it out anyway. When you looked over at Taeyong, he was, of course, shaking his head. “I’m sure Jaehyun won’t mind. It’s the album release party.” He looked over to Johnny, who nodded politely.

“You can still go. Just drop me off at home.”

“Nonsense, _. You spend the night here.” You and Taeyong both looked at each other, you with an expression of clear distaste, and Taeyong with something a bit less than that. “I mean…didn’t you say you had a thing?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s not a kid. She can stay by herself. Call us if you need anything. But she shouldn’t get into the car.” Taeyong hummed in agreement as Johnny walked towards the both of you, and you looked at the both of them incredulously. “Did you both just decide on plans without me?” You crossed your arms. “Unbelievable.” It came of surprisingly playful, making them both laugh, Johnny now sizing you up with his eyes like he always did. “You like the robe?”

“Y-yeah.” For a second you were too comfortable, looking right into Johnny’s eyes, wanting more than anything to be in his arms. Your body, your mind, this house…you were there, 10 months ago, back when it was all okay, it was right. Forgetting that Taeyong was right here, staring at you back, wishing you were here right now.

“You gonna be okay here, baby?” Taeyong brought your hands into his, pulling you close as Johnny walked away. You nodded, smiling up at him with passion in your heart for the first time in what felt like too long. The guilt started throbbing in your gut again, but you grabbed his face in your hands, kissing him deeply until you felt it ebbing away.

∞

“Shh. You need to be quiet. My niece is here.”

That was the sentence that rang like alarm bells in your brain. At first, your entire body tensed up, the unfamiliar surroundings making you confused. Memories of the day came back, and you relaxed a little, finally registering what was going on.

The sounds of a woman giggling and going shh in an exaggerated tone made you feel like someone threw all your emotions in a blender. Annoyance, confusion, anger, sadness, lust…it all swirled and mixed intentionally, blades cutting through each one at lightning speed.

Both of their bodies thumped upstairs, and it wasn’t long before she started moaning like a pornstar.

Your. Fucking. Niece. Is. Here??

You made a face of disgust at nobody as the noises continued. “If I was your niece, I would be reporting you to CPS.” You slammed back into bed, momentarily delighted that the painful throbs in your brain were gone far enough that you could throw yourself around easily. You pushed a pillow on top of your face, as if you were in a teen movie and you needed to throw a tantrum. At the third Oh, harder! girlish squeal that you heard, you were ready to go through with it.

Instead, your brain decided to flash through memories of yourself and Johnny. Back when you weren’t his fake niece, and instead the giggly drunk girl he would take upstairs to fuck the living daylights out of.

Fuck. Why am I thinking about this? You were stretching your arm uncomfortably out, too lazy to get out of bed to reach your phone, thinking about calling Taeyong to distract yourself or to come get you when the noises upstairs stopped.

“FUCK YOU!”

It was so loud it made you jump.

You heard the deep tenor of Johnny’s voice in the background, before her higher-pitched one cut through the air. “Fucking asshole!” You heard thumps of footsteps, much quicker and lighter than before, and sounds of zippers being pulled. When they stopped close to the door of your room, which was still slightly ajar, you kept thinking shit. There was no way you could pretend you were asleep this entire time anymore.

“Give me your fucking car keys. I’m leaving right now.”

“Look, I-“

“Do you even remember my name?” The small but significant silence that followed was so intentionally on point that you couldn’t help but snigger, covering your mouth with your palm to remain quiet.

When you heard the door slam, you lay properly in bed, still going with the plan that you were gonna pretend you somehow slept through that. As if like a badly-scripted TV show, the door to your room opened as you tried to tuck yourself in, not quick enough to avoid Johnny at the door.

“Oh, hey.” For some reason, everything was immediately extremely funny, and it was like trying to guide an elephant going estray, the way everything in you was trying not to burst out laughing.

“Sorry about the noise.”

“It’s fine.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was awake anyway. Migraine’s pretty much gone.” You gestured awkwardly to your head, reaching out to grab your phone now properly. “I think Taeyong’s ready to pick me up now.” You turned the screen on as you said this, as if you just read texts from him. In reality, your phone was dry and empty, the lockscreen of you and Taeyong making a heart at the beach last summer glaring back at you in the dark. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“No trouble.” He walked into the room, door now fully open. You crossed your legs on the bed, not knowing what to say or how to act, not knowing why he was now silently looking over the dresser in the room to your left.

“I said your name.”

Your blood froze, body reacting before your brain. You sputtered, “I, uh, what?”

He opened his mouth to reply, now fully turned towards you, but you brought a finger to your own lips. “That’s okay. Don’t need to explain, Johnny. I, just, why would you say that?” The last part refused to remain a thought in your heard, instead spilling out of you in words drenched in emotional blender soup.

“You just said you don’t need an explanation.”

“Ugh, Johnny,” you rubbed your temples, not because of an incoming migraine, but in a more dramatic, single mom in a bad murder mystery novel kind of way. “You always do this. You know what I mean.”

When you looked up, his eyes were softer than you thought. He looked…vulnerable, and lost. He had the other end of that string that you held onto as you slipped deeper into the quicksand, standing there, looking like only one who could pull you out.

He walked closer to you, and your body did not move away. He got close enough to sit on the edge of the bed, slouched over, and you dragged your legs over to sit next to him. “I’m your fucking niece?” You laughed easily now, and you watched his body vibrate as his body copied yours. “It was the only thing I could think of in the moment, okay?” His smile made your body feel electric, like you could conquer anything in that moment. And for a moment, you surrendered to the notion that it was exactly 10 months ago, on the precipice of the moment it all fell apart.

Why did you break up with me? You wanted so desperately to say, your voice coarse from screaming it in your mind for hours every day. But instead, you answered his measured attempts to keep a light conversation.

“You had any migraine this bad in a while?”

“No.” you shook your head, now tucking your legs in underneath you to lean on the bedframe, his body turning to face you as you did. “Been seeing a new physician. She’s much better.”

“Oh yeah? Finally dumped Dr Misogyny?”

“Uh huh. I figured I didn’t need someone who kept trying to convince me I was overreacting and being hysterical.”

“Mmm. Good on you, sweetheart.” Even though you knew how easily Johnny threw endearing terms around, your stomach still flipped violently at his reply, and you gulped.

“Taeyong’s been good too. He’s sleeping a lot better. Not working too late anymore.”

“That’s good.” Johnny readjusted on the bed, inching closer towards you. “He works way too hard. As do you.”

“Johnny…” Your voice ever so slightly caught in your throat, and it was noticeable enough for him to catch. You mentally cursed, but that’s when something in you went fuck it, and you went in straight for the kill.

“Why did you leave me…us?” Your voice shook, no matter how strongly you willed it not too, and the last word came out like a forbidden whisper.

He looked directly into your eyes, as if he was relieved that you asked him, like he’d been holding onto the response for the past 10 months. “I…I regretted it every single day.”

“Then you should have fucking told me.” You sucked in a breath. “You could have said anything to me, and I would have come running. I trust you, I…I love you.” Every breath felt painful as you let your confession hang in the air dangerously. “You know that.”

“I know, _.”

Before you could even let yourself process the moment, you leant over and kissed him. The guilt throbbing in your gut exploded like a small fire as it catches on to grow endlessly large and overwhelming. He grabbed your body, lifting you to rest on his lap, your kisses growing feverish with heat.

When you pulled away, you opened your eyes to come to your senses. “N-no, we shouldn’t.”

“Stop that.” He whispered against the skin of your neck. “You know he wouldn’t care.”

“That’s the problem. We need to do this properly.”

“You know why we can’t do that.”

“I don’t, Johnny. I don’t know why we can’t.” You began to argue with him, but he shut you up by hoisting your upper body further and further up, biting and sucking the skin down the base of your neck, collarbone, and between your breasts. Your arms latched onto his muscular shoulders as you rocked naturally on his lap. “God, fuck you, Johnny.” He chuckled against your clothed torso.

“Give me a second.” He pushed you gently backwards, rising up on his knees to let you watch as he pulled his shirt off with one hand. He fell on top of you in one fell swoop, kissing you between the cages of his muscular arms. His body rolled onto yours, making you gasp. “Johnny, I-“

“I know. Just let me. Okay?”

[wispstalk]

wip wednesday

been tagged by various people over the past few weeks and didn't have much to share but now y'all get...

🚨🚨 IDLE IN THEIR THRONES SECRET BONUS CHAPTER 🚨🚨 i'm editing a version of my fic for my man, bc he wants to read my shit. but the problem is that my intended audience for the Oblivion fic is "people who have played oblivion" which he has not.

I made some mostly-minor changes to contextualize events/characters but Tanis's university B-plot warranted another chapter. Includes one microfic I've already posted, but the rest is new. fair warning: 4k words under the cut. tagging everyone who tagged me: @nuwanders @jiubilant @dirty-bosmer @sylvienerevarine @ehlnofay @everybodyknows-everybodydies (and a special shoutout to Talviel because I referenced her menus for the last section)

--

“Impressive, Apprentice!” Julienne Fanis, the Master Alchemist, watches with delight as the angry weal on Tanis’s neck smooths and seals over. “Sorry, Journeyman, isn’t it? Now that you have your staff. Traven ought to have bumped you up a few ranks after what you went through to get it…”

Tanis makes a noncommittal noise. He had thought, perhaps stupidly, that being ambushed by necromancers was only a test of his mettle. Only when he made an offhand remark to Delmar, the Master Enchanter, did the Elder Council fly into a flurry. The University has been abuzz ever since, and Tanis attracts stares everywhere he goes.

He rubs at the healed cut, which has begun to itch with a fury. “Trouble with spiddal stick,” he says, “is that it burns out the infection, and then keeps burning. But I thought with a pinch of frost salts—”

“Ah, but the cost…” Julienne’s eyes widen as Tanis produces a sizeable jar of salts. “Well! If we must be plagued with these Oblivion gates, I should count myself blessed to have a student bold enough to enter them.”

He offers her a half-grin and pinches some salt into his calcinator. “Or mad enough to go flower-picking in the Deadlands.”

“Well, should you decide the frost salts aren’t worth the risk, I’d try lady’s smock leaves. That ought to counteract the irritation.” She regards him, head cocked. “You seem to have a talent for healing. I’m more inclined to banecraft, myself, but I try to make my students understand that it’s not so different, is it? Here you’ve just made a healing salve from a poisonous flower.”

Yena would like this woman. “Just toyed around with it and got lucky. I’d like to learn more. Who’s the Master Restorationist here?”

Julienne gives him a strange look. “The University does not have a Master Restorationist. I teach apprentices how to make basic restoratives, and the Master Alterationist covers spellwork. But if you’re looking to further your studies, there is always work in the infirmary. I could have a word with the chief medic.”

Tanis blinks up at her. Yena would really like this woman. That was all the old witch ever wanted for him— a life as a healer. He wrote her off, could never tolerate working in a temple, but perhaps here…

“Excuse me, Master Fanis.” The reedy voice of a young woman cuts through the workroom. “Master Polus has requested Tanis Irathi’s presence in the tower lobby.” The grey-robed assistant does not wait for a response, but only ducks her head and shuffles out.

Tanis raises an eyebrow. Julienne Fanis gives him a tight smile. “One of Raminus’s little errands, no doubt.”

“Can’t it wait?” Tanis complains, and moderates the heat beneath his calcinator.

“You’d best go. Your reduction won’t go to waste, I’ll finish it.” Julienne sighs as she glances around the workroom. “I do hope you’ll keep attending lectures. I lose some of my most promising alchemists this way. The Council tends to take notice of mages with… certain skills.”

She throws a look at his swordbelt, slung over the edge of the worktable. He has, perhaps, made himself stand out. No one else wears a weapon around campus, unless he counts staves. And after what he went through to earn his, he paid the Master Enchanter to tip it with an ebony spearhead.

He leaves Julienne to experiment with his cache of Daedric ingredients, and makes for the tower.

—

Two days later, Tanis storms into the tower lobby, saddlesore and filthy with road dust. Raminus looks up at his arrival, and his face turns white when Tanis slaps a book down on his desk.

“You sent me after a book,” Tanis says, low and menacing. “So here is a book.”

“Er, Tanis, there—” Raminus clears his throat. “There was never any book.”

“There was never any book,” Tanis agrees.

“The Goblin with the Golden Arm,” Raminus reads from the cover. “Ah. A fiction. Consider your point made, mage.”

Tanis hadn’t put quite that much thought into it; he picked this one off the shelf because he liked the illustrations. “Give me that,” he snaps, and snatches it from Raminus’s hands. “So. What the fuck?”

Raminus takes off his spectacles and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I’m truly sorry for the lie. Our relationship with the Count is tenuous at best, and Traven thought that sending a high-ranking official to Skingrad would alert the necromancers to our presence and drive them underground. After how capably you handled the necromancers that attacked you among the stave-trees, we thought you a good candidate for this mission.”

Praise, Tanis notes with annoyance, does soften his outrage. “Well, it’s done.”

“Please, tell me everything that happened.”

“Well, to start with, you told me to retrieve a book in the Count’s possession, so I rode all the way to fucking Skingrad, and—”

“I haven’t forgotten, Tanis. Just tell me what you found.”

Tanis had visited the castle once before, when he and Coradri closed the Oblivion gate outside Skingrad’s walls. He had known that Count Janus Hassildor was unlikely to grant him audience. But the castle steward, Mercator, was notably more unfriendly when Tanis identified himself as a representative of the mages guild.

Mercator informed him that the Count would meet him after dark, north of the mineshaft outside the city walls. So, after sharing a few rounds with the patrons at the West Weald Inn, Tanis made his way there.

“It was a trap,” Tanis tells Raminus. “Mercator and two of his friends met me instead. Summoned wraiths from thin air, cast a silence spell over me, and attacked.”

“My word, this is worse than we thought.” Raminus’s expression grows grave. “The Count sent him to kill you?”

No, Tanis continues, the Count arrived just as Tanis finished them off. Janus Hassildor was white with fury, or so Tanis thought— then he caught the strange glow to his eyes, his sallow cheeks. The flash of long canines as he gave Tanis an earful.

I suspected Mercator was involved with the necromancers, Hassildor said, but I would not move against him without knowing the identities of his allies. Despite what your Council may think, I would never throw in with such a cult.

“And he told me,” Tanis concludes, “the next time you want something from him, you come yourselves.”

“I see.” Raminus sighs and rubs at his jaw as he takes it in. “Tanis, please believe me when I say it was never the Council’s intention to put you in harm’s way.”

“Oh, piss off with that. I was four beers deep and had no fucking clue what was going on, but those three couldn’t have left a scratch on me.”

The Master Wizard lets out a humorless huff of laughter. “In any case, we are aware of Count Hassildor’s… condition… but it isn’t public knowledge. For that reason I didn’t share what we knew with you. We will not make that mistake again. And if Hassildor shares in our suspicions about this burgeoning cult, perhaps we can count him among our allies.”

Tanis folds his arms, skeptical. “And you lot aren’t worried that a vampire—”

“He hides his nature well, though he can’t hide it from the Council of Mages. We’ve come to certain accords. And if those agreements are strained of late, the fault doesn’t lie with you.”

“No shit.”

“You’ve done the guild a great service,” Raminus says. “And for that, you earn the rank of Evoker.”

Tanis blinks. While he grasps for something to say, Raminus unlocks the cabinet behind his desk, and comes around with something glittering in his fists. A silver chain with a pendant of citrine, carved with twin hands and the Eye of Magnus. When Tanis takes it into his palm, he senses the warding spell enchanted within it.

“Again, you have my apologies.” Raminus inclines his head. “I will speak to the Council.”

It bothers Tanis to find himself placated by this. Promote him, bestow some magical trinket on him, and he will gladly continue being a useful idiot for the guild. At least, he hopes, the Council will see fit to use their idiot well.

—

“Explain to me,” Tanis says, watching the ghost of his ancestor swoop and howl through the practice room, “how this doesn’t count as necromancy.”

Anaht’s nictitating membranes slide over her eyes in exasperation. “You do not want to get into this with me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want to get into,” he insists, and releases his focus, letting the restive shade return to the other side of the veil. “Say I’m attacked— bandits on the road, say, and say I kill the first one and make him get up and defend me against his fellow rogues and blaggards. That’s beyond the pale, and if I’m caught Traven throws me out on my ass.”

Her tail swishes with impatience. “Those are the rules, yes.”

“But dredging up my pissed-off card out of the ash is fine, and conjuring daedra— daedra, when they’re running thick as rabbits in the countryside— that’s all well and good.”

“Odd for you to be beating the moral drum,” Anaht says finely, “when I happen to know from Proctor Renault that you put your cohort to shame during the conjuration practical. A flame atronach, no less, while the rest of them were nearly bursting blood vessels just to call up a scamp.”

“Morals?” Tanis blinks. “Who the fuck said anything about morals? I’m a lout with a sword who does what I’m bid. It’s just that I can’t make heads nor tails of how you wizards think.”

Anaht relaxes then. “You will find,” she says, sweeping an arm for him to follow her out of the room, “that if there is a single thing that all wizards think, it is that we agree on nothing.”

In the Archives they find Tar-Meena, harried, drawing one claw down a list of requisitions, muttering to herself. “I need the key to the incinerator,” Anaht announces to the Master Archivist.

Tar-Meena throws Tanis a dubious glance, and speaks to Anaht in Jel, unaware that Tanis can parse it. “You are taking that one? Raminus’s hunter?”

“He was my hunter first,” Anaht sniffs, "and like any good hunter he knows when to be quiet."

With a skeptical lift of the brow ridge, Tar-Meena hands over a jangling ring of keys and returns to her work. Anaht leads him through the darkness and hush of the stacks, all the way to the end of the maze of shelves, to an unassuming heavy door.

More crammed bookshelves, to no one’s surprise. Sealed off from the carefully-controlled environment of the stacks, there is a window letting in the afternoon light, and a large round table scattered with a half-finished card game, books and papers, a mug of cold coffee dregs. It seems this vault of forbidden knowledge serves as a sort of employee break room.

No fires to be found, though, not so much as a reedlight. Like the stacks, this room is only to be lit by spell, with polished steel sconces on the wall to reflect the mage-glow.

“Why’s it called the incinerator?” he asks, drawing his reading glasses from his pocket.

“Yes, Arch-Mage,” Anaht says, taking a posture of mock obeisance. “We've found another treatise on the Black Arts, and we'll throw it straight in the fires.”

On the shelf before him, a veritable buffet of taboo: Necromancer’s Moon, Pathway to Lichdom. A journal purported to be authored by the Wolf Queen Potema. Even a title written in Dunmeris, On the Veneration and Summoning of Ancestor Guardians. The very spell he’d just opened his palm and offered his blood to learn.

And, tacked to one corner of the shelving timbers, a small folio: The Black Arts on Trial, by Arch-Mage Hannibal Traven.

“In the interest of being even-handed. A little joke among the scrivs,” Anaht says by way of explanation, then nudges him aside with her hip. “Now move, you big oaf, and let me look for something.”

He takes the folio with him and settles down at the table. The contents of this inflammatory writ are oft-bandied on the University grounds, but he’s never gotten around to reading it, what with all the… everything else.

While he reads, Anaht waltzes around the room, her tail jewelry jangling, occasionally plucking a book like a choice pear and stacking it on her arm.

“This gra-Kogg makes a lot of sense,” he says, holding a finger to mark his place. “Actually think her arguments were better than this other fella’s, but Traven’s conclusion doesn't consider her at all. Why include the debate, then?”

“Keep reading.” Anaht does not look back, but the tip of her tail shakes with mild amusement.

“Oh,” he says, squinting down at the afterword. “Reckon I ought to have seen that coming.”

“These will get you started.” Anaht drops her books to the table with a heavy thump, and delicately pats the top of the stack. Tanis grumbles; there has to be a dozen of them, and he’s already up to his ears in daedric research and work in the infirmary.

She perches lightly in the chair to his left. “Yes, Master gra-Kogg was a necromancer,” she says, and folds her jeweled claws beneath her chin. “But?”

“But,” he sighs, now seeing the point of that menacing bookpile, “that doesn’t make her wrong. Raminus has me running all over Cyrodiil flushing them out of their dens, but I don’t know a damn thing about how to fight them. Can’t interrupt their casting, can’t tell what they’re calling up, don’t know what they’re after.”

“If you insist on being the Council’s hunting dog, I will not have you go forth unprepared.” She taps the silvery-thin scar on the side of his neck, the one he’d earned while ambushed in Wellspring Grove, collecting wood for his mage’s staff. “So long as Traven invites the necromancers' wrath, we archivists will maintain this bulwark against them.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's all very noble."

She ignores the barb, tucking the books in her striped haversack and foisting it on him to carry. “Now come. Let us go to the King and Queen. You owe me dinner.”

Tanis follows her out the door. "What for?"

She swats at him with her tail. “You think I do all this tutoring for free?”

—

After dinner, he sees Anaht back to the University grounds and makes his way to Luther’s boarding house. Coradri is waiting for him in the common room, bouncing off the walls in her effort to rush him right back out the door.

“Good, you’re already dressed for dinner,” she says, breathless. “We have to get to the Tiber Septim Hotel now.”

“I just fucking— the Tiber? Are you trying to bleed me dry?” He lets himself be towed down the street, then digs in his heels. “The plaza district’s the other way, s’wit.”

“Ugh! This city is so big and stupid,” Coradri says with some venom, and steers him in the opposite direction. “Listen, it’s almost ninth bell and we have to hurry. I might have agreed to a private audience with the High Chancellor on your behalf.”

“It better be on his drake, then.” He looks askance at her— dressed in a billowy silk tunic, soft buckskin trousers, and an embroidered vest. “I see you’ve been helping yourself to my purse.”

“I knew you wouldn’t mind.” She dips into a little curtsy. “Can’t show up dressed like some Colovian poacher, can I?”

“You look nice,” he admits grudgingly, and they pass through the gates of the Talos Plaza district.

This part of the city is far more palatial than the Elven Gardens, where they have taken up residence for the past several weeks. The people who stroll the streets are aristocrats by their dress and bearing, and the ancient Ayleid architecture has been well-maintained.

Coradri walks into the sumptuous hotel as if she does this sort of thing all the time. The host identifies them as the Chancellor’s guests, and leads them away from the common dining room to a private balcony overlooking the square.

“Good sir. My lady.” The host drops into a deep bow. “Chancellor Ocato sent a page ahead to inform us that he has been delayed in Council deliberations, but will arrive shortly. He has requested that we bring out the first course while you wait, and a bottle of his favored wine— Tamika’s 415 vintage.”

A serving boy lays out plates of charred fennel and horse carpaccio. The host presents the bottle laid across her arm, then pops the cork in one deft motion and offers it to Tanis.

He takes it, baffled. The porter beams expectantly at him. “Ah, thanks,” he says. “That’ll… be all.”

Coradri erupts into laughter once the servers leave. “You’re supposed to sniff the cork.”

“How d’you know things like that?” Tanis rubs at his temples and stares at the spread before them. “Damn you, scribling. I split a slaughterfish pie with Anaht just before you dragged me here.”

“Tough luck,” Coradri says through a mouthful. “Have at the wine, then. I don’t want any.”

“And I’m already drunk,” he sighs, and pours himself a mug.

“You won’t have to talk much. You were too busy with your studies, so I went to the Elder Council without you. Waved Jauffre’s writ around a lot. Said I was a real Blade. Told them about Brother Martin, even. They won’t send us any legionnaires, I already know that, but I’m not giving up.”

“Fuck me.” Tanis takes a long drink. The wine— there is no other way he can put it— tastes expensive. It blooms at the back of his throat, deep and rich and mellow. “At least the wine’s good.”

“So’s the food,” she says, and reaches for another slice of horsemeat. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

Despite himself, he samples a bite from each platter. “Tell you what, let’s make a pact: after we win the priest his throne, may we never piss him off. Once I see how they live in the White-Gold Tower, I won’t want to go back.”

“Arensha,” she grins. “Do you think we’ll leave for the temple soon?”

“Ah… Raminus wants me to check in on some researchers. They’re excavating a ruin near Cheydinhal. But I can probably slip off after that. We could go there, take the Blue Road back. You getting bored while I’m playing at being a scholar?”

“No. I find plenty to do in this big, stupid city.” She props her chin on her hand and gives him a searching look. “But I miss Brother Martin. Don’t you?”

Tanis narrowly avoids choking on his wine. Just then, Ocato sweeps in, with a trail of attendants behind him, and burbles out apologies while dismissing his retinue with a wave.

The second course, a creamed nettle soup, arrives on the table just as the wizened, willowy Altmer settles into his seat. He greets them graciously and calls for more wine.

Tanis learned his etiquette from frequenting Cyrod merchants; whether it's tea or a full banquet, negotiation will not commence until all parties have sated themselves. Ocato makes polite conversation about the city’s various pleasure gardens and noteworthy watering holes, with Coradri’s occasional interjections to egg him on.

When the final course is cleared— a good two hours later— the real discussion begins. Ocato tents his fingers and looks to Coradri.

“I’ve kept you quite long,” he says, “but of course you didn’t come to the city to drink wine and listen to me blather on, so perhaps we can discuss the matter at hand.”

“Of course we can,” Coradri says. “And I hope the Chancellor will forgive us bringing him out so late, after working so tirelessly in the Council chambers.”

Tanis takes a long draught of wine to stifle a snort. Where does she get this shit?

“Nothing to forgive, of course,” Ocato says with a stately nod. "Your pleas before the Council haven't fallen on hard hearts, I hope you understand."

“The legion can’t be spared, I know, but of course the Chancellor agrees that the safety of the heir is important.”

“The utmost,” Ocato says gravely. “And of course I see the urgency of your request, but the generals simply will not divert the Legion.” He leans in and speaks lowly. “It’s no secret that the ranks have thinned since this crisis began. The Imperial Army has already pulled forces from the provinces, and that may yet cost us. Word has reached us of gates as far-flung as Black Marsh and Skyrim.”

“Of course we understand,” Coradri says. “I mean no insult to the Empire, Chancellor, but Irathi here is a legion in one. Six gates opened outside the cities, you’ll remember, and he closed each of them alone.”

Tanis opens his mouth to protest— Coradri had been with him outside Chorrol and Skingrad— but she stomps on the toe of his boot, the universal sign to shut the fuck up.

“Many of the counts and countesses have written to the Council of your deeds.” Ocato nods in Tanis’s direction. “And of course the whole of Cyrodiil is grateful for your protection. Quite a feat for one man alone.”

“In some ways, it makes him more effective,” Coradri says. “Irathi can move independently. Of course the Elder Council would have responded, we all believe that, but I imagine it would take some time to move enough forces to all six cities?”

“Of course,” Ocato agrees, then shakes his head. “With fourteen of us, the deliberations can go on for— well, I don’t have to tell you, do I? Once again, I do hope you can forgive my late arrival.”

“Of course we do,” Coradri says. “We wait at the Chancellor’s pleasure. The Mythic Dawn may not do the same, but no harm will come to the heir so long as Bruma is defended. And the Hero of Kvatch” —she gestures grandly to Tanis— “is the future Emperor’s own sworn sword.”

“You are the Hero of Kvatch?” Ocato’s eyebrows shoot near up to his hairline. “Of course! Who else could withstand such a trial? Then the Empire has you to thank not only for the security of its cities, but for its heir.”

With his hands under the table, Tanis has been counting off on his fingers. If they say it one more time, he’ll have a perfect round dozen. He likes his lucky numbers.

“Of course,” Ocato says thoughtfully, “as emissaries of the Blades, the council could grant you substantial resources in the army’s stead.”

“As an emissary of the Blades,” Coradri says smoothly, “I can assure you we would put them to good use.”

Ocato clasps his hands together. “It may take some doing— you’ve seen how the Council sessions can drag on— but consider it done. And I expect the Imperial battlemages would be quite interested to know how one man has come to run courses around them.”

A silence falls. Ocato regards Tanis with keen eyes, and Coradri gives him a small secretive smile.

“You… want me to tell you how I close the gates.”

“How you survive them,” Ocato says with a sudden fervor. “How you manage it alone.”

Gold— that’s what Ocato means by substantial resources. Enough for arms, for mounts, for mercenaries, and all he has to do is get to the other end of a story.

Tanis spreads his hands. “Of course.”