#to me and gave me all the space to do it in my time here

[kooyabooya]

INTERLUDE

m reader x haewon // 9k words

You’ll give credit where it’s due.

If not for her, you wouldn’t be here - and if not for you, she would have quit the logistical side of the show business a long, long time ago. 

She's written her own sweet, tragic, but beautiful tale of madness; willing to stay amidst the whirlwinds of shit she’s put herself through, and you can somewhat see as to why. 

It’s when she’s let herself into the space of your apartment, hours past of the usual and typical workday. Most of the reasons in this case have their own tales and periods of reflection the next morning - though, a common thread of events that you’ve been accustomed to is the trail of her heels leading a path to the couch, her handbag tossed off to the opposite end, sinking into the cushions. She’s tired, and very unbothered. 

You’re doing your own pat down not far from her. A jacket’s tossed onto the nearby chair of your dining table; the usual essentials of your phone, wallet, and one of many pairs of glasses also find their place away from your reach. 

“Since when the hell did you snag my keys from me?” You ask, patting down the quartet of pockets to realize the sudden item wasn’t part of the things you rummaged off your body. 

“It’s called sleight of hand, dear.” Haewon says, a phone spinning in the air and to a nearby pillow, “That’s what happens when you leave a key with me after our last outing. Have someone to blame? Let that be yourself.” 

“I was wondering why you were taking longer getting out of the car.” 

“Girls like to take their sweet time.” 

“Your point being?” 

“My point?” She sits up and leans forward, diverting her attention towards one of the gacha items that you got as a gift from one of her clients - a token of gratitude, for being wonderful with me - you recall the memory for a split second, and Haewon keeps on flipping it around between her fingers. “Don’t get too pressed now. It’s not like you would be locked out of your house for that long. Besides, your landlord’s seen me with you more times than he can count. If I were to ask him for the master key, he’d probably say yes.” 

“Speculation,” you breathe, “Honestly, you can try, and I think you could be on his good side for all I know.” 

A few wisps of her hair fall far off the side, and she pulls it back with a single finger. Even in the dimmest of lightings, you can still see the small twinge of her nose pulling back, flaring her nostrils. Then she flicks her eyes back toward you, hooking. “You’ve always let me lead the way, and you’re following not far behind.” 

You’re tending to the cuffs of your shirt, rolling them up just below the elbows. “I do a whole lot more than just my job.” 

“Tch,” Haewon’s got the tip of her tongue on her upper teeth. “You know well enough that it cuts both ways.” 

Almost as if this was practiced on cue, these sliding strides you make as Haewon picks herself up from her seat, it’s like two characters taking center stage. The lighting’s barely peeking through for you to see where everything’s leveled. Doesn’t matter how much effort you put into it, Haewon’s frame is the only thing you see, the weight on your shoulders start to droop from the imaginary weight on them. You can probably settle with how the luminating radiance of the night sky showers her porcelain skin or the way her silhouette molds itself in the meshing colors of this cozy dark blue pooling through behind her. There’s also the fleeting realization that this is your space that she’s nestling in. But you can’t ignore the sudden occasional chill that sweeps through every time she walks in - even when it’s after hours, the effect is still in play. 

Haewon’s treating another few strands of her hair behind her ear before looking down at the small toy on your table top. “Not a bad idea for you to start a collection going.” 

You glance over her shoulder and pull a firm grin across your face. “You know, I was a bit perplexed in why she gave that to me in the first place - after I politely refused so many times.” A shake of your head and a sigh follows instantly after. “But the more I look at it, it’s pretty cute to have. Brings a whole lot of variety in the place right off the bat.” 

Haewon dips her head down, hiding a subtle smirk when touches the tips of her socks on the floor. “I know that you fancy your books and everything but, I was happy that you took her gift in the end.” 

“Expecting me to just say no?” 

“Blind boxes are a life lesson too. People expect one thing and when they don’t get what they want, they’re pretty torn to whether to be happy or not with what they pulled. Now that I think about it, the same lesson can be seen in Forrest Gump when he’s sitting on the bench with the old lady.” 

“A lot of people can resonate with Forrest in that moment. Probably because almost everybody’s got something that they didn’t want in the first place, and I’ll take your word for it.” You slide your hands into your pockets, rolling your shoulders back. “Makes people appreciate the many things they have.” 

Haewon cocks her head towards her left, bringing it back upright once her body’s facing yours. You’re holding your breath here for a second, swallowing a lump of nervousness down your throat. She’s got it all: the intellect, the beauty, the poise. Each and every single one of those thoughts crosses both ways in your mind, it’s been like that since you got paired with her. The authenticity of her presence doubles down what’s written on paper. Like any fool in this scenario, you carry on, thinking about all of the things you’d never thought you’d do with her - the way she tries to hide the growing blush on her face when your arms hold her, how her eyelids lower their guard when you’re closing the proximity to mere inches, how she sighs with a finger pressed to her temple before whipping some of her hair back - adorable, and perfect. There’s really no other way to describe it, or her; even if she’s not very adamant into accepting the meaningful compliments. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Her small frame nestles itself easily at your front and she’s happily dancing her fingers at the pointe end of your necktie, fiddling along with the button beneath it. You’re deluding yourself at the imaginary tug she has on you and she’s barely laid a finger. “Scratch that, I wholeheartedly agree.” 

You’d wish that you could make a quick snapshot back to the very time you first unraveled her in your home, on an evening whim just like this. The proposition of pulling up a mental calendar and ripping off the pages backwards to a full two years of working with her. Though, you’re able to automatically deduce the fact of the time you and her actually spent working together - a good portion of those cases in the sheets which is worth considering - but despite all that, there’s a good report to draw up in your head where the times flowed in fluctuations, much like in a spectrogram. Some of the days with her peaked higher than the rest, and others were on the opposite end of the spectrum. That’s just how this rapport- this relationship was. 

Haewon never really dabbled with the idea of putting a label on this ‘thing’ you have with her. 

It could be a relationship, or maybe it couldn’t. She would always immediately shut down that thought circling around your brain. 

A tried and true method in getting your hopes up. And each and every time she shot your heart down. It would send you in limbo for what feels like an endless string of days, the firm tone with her delivery very clear and straight to the point. You can’t help yourself in waiting for something to change; heck, it’s possibly everything you ever wanted with her. 

It also didn’t help when the people in your inner circle were already in their own walks of life, blooming into something beautiful with their significant others; while you’re sitting off to the side, watching them from a distance as it feels like with every passing day, you’re falling further and further behind. There isn’t enough space in your journal, let alone the selection of drinks to choose from after being downed, but the feeling remains all the same - it’s a harrowing want to fill that depression oh-so desperately. 

“Whatever happened to ‘keeping things professional’?” Dipping your head down as the tip of your nose hovers right above her head, catching the first few whiffs of that oceanic scent used in her shampoo. “Wasn’t it your words exclusively that we would stop what we’re doing now? At this moment?” 

This time, you were the one to raise that wall up, hoping that it’ll stick after being broken down so many times. 

“Mine?” Haewon blurts out once her hands finally reach to the lines of your shoulders, palms sliding along the fabric of your shirt. “What about it? Don’t try to flip this back on me when we were just talking outside in the staircase and then you decided to push me against the door, perch my chin up and-” 

“Haewon.” 

“One night. That one night. You-” 

“Haewon.” You know that she’s primarily the one who likes to repeat herself at times to get her point across, but not tonight.

She sighs, head falling forward in your chest. “Alright, I’ll bite. Yes, those were my words, and I stand by them. She’s trying her hardest to ignore your overwhelming stature, because she knows your truth; she knows, and knows, and knows.“But that doesn’t mean that what I tell you is enough to sway your mind, nor your choice.”

Her words tell you one thing, but her body welled up against yours tells you another. 

“Haewon,” you repeat again, blinking it through. Your voice slightly chokes up when her thumb skates up the line of your jaw, letting her pull get the best of you, breath canvassing the slope where your chin and neck meet. “You’re not helping yourself here.” 

“It’s been a long day,” she admits, kissing you foolishly, her fingers slither to the back of your head. Your hands have a mind of their own while it tries to scrounge up what’s left of her melting figure, humming gently into your skin. “You could’ve like- taken me home, or something. Rather than bring me here, because we both know how this story goes.” 

“Don’t get all sensical with me now,” you say to her, hand quick to her wrist in an attempt to stop her, but she’s seen that card played before. “You were the one to tell me to get the hell out of the office as fast as we could, and here we are.” 

Haewon flashes her eyes at you, narrowing her expression with the simple tilt of her head. “I guess you’re right. Either I call a cab home or have you as my personal driver. Looks like the second option was the best one to pick between the two.” 

“You did look tired.” 

“Because I am.” Her eyebrows ruffle against each other when you drop the blunt response as she returns to the slacked neck along with her wrists. “After the shitstorm with Bae, and then with Sullyoon? God, don’t even get me started. You were there when everything went down.” 

“In fact I was.” 

She scowls with a much more dragged out tone with her voice, the stress pressing down on her lips returning to their familiar parted place. “I’m trying so hard to not think about it, but it’s just- ugh.” 

“A problem to be dealt with tomorrow,” you tell her, hands bringing her closer to your waist. “Just don’t think.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Haewon deadpans, her face shifting flat with dead eyes. “And it’s easier for it to be said than done.” 

“Why not do it, then?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m asking you to not focus on work for once, genius.” 

“This is me not focusing on work,” she says, pouting, “you’re the one who’s not letting me go in the first place.” 

You manage to look away for a quick second, closing your eyes to fight back the growing cringe rising on your face. “Says the one who waltzed into my house and arms right now.” 

Haewon lets out another dry laugh, resting the side of her face below your collar, pulling down on the slightly untied knot. “Well, I guess I can let you have that over me. I’ll admit that.” 

A deep inhale puffs up your chest as you’re carding your fingers into those coffee brown locks of her hair, massaging her temple. 

“Consider that to be one of your few wins against my arguments. Why bother tell you my personal thoughts about the details we talked about in the meetings earlier, or even in the office.” She sighs again deeply, burrowing herself into your embrace. “What I would do to give that pretty dumbass a-” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already said that to her earlier, by the way.” 

Haewon looks up again, recalling for a quick second, closing her lips before sounding a simple hum. “Right, I guess I did.” 

“You don’t have to handle this all by yourself, you know.” 

“What if I want to, hm?” She beams. The flip in her mood is always an anomaly in the way that she’s brushing herself up closer to you. “You know my business - my affairs, but I didn’t tell you all of them.” 

You’re well familiar with the playing field she’s setting up here. It’s a battleground that’s seen it all between the two of you, the losses outweighing the victories (and by an overwhelming margin on her end too). She’s always the one to initiate, to set up, your thoughts already getting ahead with the same downward tilt of your head, hands caressing the fabric of her skirt, finding a familiar hold of her hips like one would always do at the start of every slow dance. 

Of course you stay silent, blinking.< Haewon’s quick fire of air leaving her nostrils hides her laugh not that well.> (putting this here to take this sentence out and edit) “Well- Haewon, I’ve got no other choice but to hear you ramble all about them, since it’s my job.” 

“You know most of them.” 

“Like you said: most.” 

Haewon rests herself into you, the lines of tape gradually coming undone. The scent of her shampoo hits your nose a little bit harder this time, her palms sliding up across your chest again. She innocently tilts her head up, parting her lips; tiny, rosy, and dangerously inviting. You have no other thought filling your mind but to lift her up and capture her all to yourself. 

Her lips are like putty - easy to form and mold into the shape that you like. But you pull yourself back, a last line of defense before her eyes and hands have their own say. “Could you say that this is a choice too?” 

“Hm.” She tilts herself upwards into the line of your neck, each quick kiss sending both your heart and mind into echelons higher than cloud nine, melting with every touch until she has your head in between her palms, holding you gently. The blinks she gives are slow, and her breath hitting your face leaves you to your own devices. “What you do with me is always a choice.” 

You retreat for a moment, pulling yourself far away where you can, Haewon’s body still within reach in your arms, forming a wall of air between the space of your chest and hers. “I feel like what we do is already risky as it seems, no? Sure, we see each other on a regular basis, deal with what needs to be done with the day, talking to clients, making sure things are right for the events, going back and forth with no definite pause in between.” Didn’t matter if she was out of the country or mere inches away from you, she’s always about work it seems - like that was the only mode programmed in her mind. “More often than not, I’m treating what damage is done which usually ends up with a few bottles of beer and don’t even get me started on how bad of a lightweight you are-” 

“Uh, rude.” Haewon pays no attention to you. Her thumb grazes your cheek again, and you can’t help the way that you’re leaning into her touch, once realizing that what you said might be too much. You feel your head being reeled in lower and lower, until you feel the tip of her nose hit the cuff of your ear. “But you’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that you have to put up with me that way.” 

Nodding was something that you always used to acknowledge her opinions or thoughts, and it isn’t any different here. 

However, your hands are playing a different role: traversing their way into the two small divots below the small of her back, resting just right above her ass. She’s getting herself more and more comfortable, undoing the first three buttons of her shirt, inviting you to dive into the new opening. You keep on gazing into her slightly swollen lips, studying at how quickly her tongue wets the bottom part, and you draw another swift inhale past your teeth before answering, “There’s no need for you to apologize, especially to me.”

Haewon keeps on pulling the undone tie, the knot basically nonexistent the more she pulls down, eventually sliding it out of your collar and onto the floor. She gives it a quick glance when it pools over her feet and yours, and her lapin eyes land on yours again, bottom lip captured between her teeth. “I just feel bad, you know? And part of me thinks that it’s only a matter of time until you’ve had enough and want to-” 

You shut her up before she keeps up the self-lament, meshing her lips against yours, wanting her to be persuaded in a different manner - one with less words and more actions. 

Drawing back, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And even if I ever had the chance to, I’d straight up say no.” 

“Look at you, so easygoing.”

“I-” 

“At some point,” she breathes, ghosting her face over yours, tugging on that want for you to chase after. “I’d thought you’d give up on forgiving me.” 

“For?” 

“Anything, really.” Haewon answers admittedly. “Whether it’s here or in the office, you have that same look in your eyes, the one filled with sorrow. It hurt me a bit.” 

Maybe right now would be the time to remind her that what she’s thinking is nothing but complete bullshit. 

So you lean down again, and pull her close. Another snapshot taken in the back of your mind. 

Two years is a long time. Two years of the same routine over and over, of working with her, unwinding after the long hours hidden away from everyone else, watching her work herself down to the bone, doing all of these things as if she’s going to die in the next five seconds if she doesn’t keep going. She’s rising to every occasion that she can, moving so fast that you can’t even bear to keep up with her. You’d admire from a distance, in awe, all while you’re at her right-hand side, unwilling to say anything to her. Obviously when she needed to get her mind off of something, or everything for that matter, she wasn’t the kind of person to be upfront about what she wants and let you read into the signs. Luckily, you’ve always noticed at a glance, and even if she isn’t the one to puff out her lips and kiss you first. No. Never. That’s a luxury that’s reserved for you and only you. Because all it takes is one look into your eyes, and the way she’s broken you down like this, she’s very aware of what your downfall is: her. 

All of this is a continuation of a growing culmination, her own personal anthology sprouted from her brain, one which you’ve caught wind of gradually. 

When you’re kissing into her again, hard, you start to feel everything around you collapse. It’s in the way that she smiles against your lips, matching every curve you give her - it’s amazing, and you could write poems of all the good things about Haewon - you’re reminded again and again how out of all the moments in the high achieving days and miserable nights, these instances feel just right. She’s drawing air into her nose, grazing your cheek, never wanting to pull each other away; until you’re sucking the oxygen out of each other’s mouths that leaves the both of you suffocating a bit. It’s all foolish, maybe just a bit, and to hell with the consequences awaiting you at the end of the bridge, because she knows that she’ll be in a safe place as long as it’s with you. 

The arch in her back rises, and you’re clinging tighter into her smaller frame, shoulder bunching up next to her neck, making it easier for you to hold. You can tell her breaths and hums are getting desperate, her own little mess up the more she melts into you. 

You’re not helping her in this situation, and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve done this to her. She’s hooking her arm well around your neck, the only line of support while you’re taking care of the rest, letting her wrists fall slack as you keep on your loving siege on her lips. 

She’s had a rough one this week. A red eye flight back from a fashion week, an entire day of going to ten different locations with one of her top clients, then there’s the whole incident with Bae and Sullyoon back to back. Amongst all of those things, you’d wish that you’d sweep her away for just a second and take her mind off from all the pressures and stress (and you definitely wished you didn’t wait until now to finally do it). 

“Mmmm,” Haewon lets her voice rumble in her throat, tightening her grip in the back of your collar, signaling you to pull away. When you do, her eyes pool into yours, shimmering pupils working overtime to map out the lines of your face. You could feel the heat from her cheeks grow warmer. Her eyes cross for a second. She lets her head go crestfallen, pulling this one smile, her simplest smile, the rarest one she could ever have that not a lot of people have had the pleasure of seeing. The gentlest and most genuine one that she could have, it sells the whole thing to you. Despite her tough shell, you realize that she’s one of the rare few that sends your heart flipping, every time she’s got your guard lowered - exactly in the way like this - it’s impossible to ignore the outshining tempts when all of your inhibitions are at their lowest. 

Her head goes one side, and then the opposite, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this.” 

Today’s been one of those days. You’re tired, even beyond tired. If she didn’t come with you, the bed would’ve been full by now. Two years of the on and off and the off and on, it’s draining. You don’t say anything, as always. Instead, you swoop down beneath her thighs and carry her, taking her lips all to yourself. 

She hums this heavenly noise when you press her against the wall, her legs hooking to a familiar spot where it hasn’t been in a while. Some of the buttons in her shirt come more undone not to your knowledge, but you play the counterpart when tending to the clip and zipper of her skirt. Luckily your body can work in two places at once, returning your focus to Haewon’s face, a sweep of her tongue over your bottom lip. 

The pressure to her waist is not too little nor too much, but just the right amount of press when your leg plays this momentary support underneath her legs, helping her slip out of her shirt while she does the same to you. Almost like you’re opening the pages of a book you finished reading, but flipping through to a certain part like the untouched skin of her chest with her simple black bra playing as the final back line of garments waiting to be discarded. She does that part all by herself, indulging on the breadth of her collarbone, forcing her to bite down a soft moan. 

Haewon here isn't one to play nice. There’s a bit of a tug-of-war going on with your mouths until you gnaw on her lips a bit too hard, wanting you to do that again the way her face is chasing after yours. But her eyes find their place in line again, gaze softening - you’re cursing at yourself because of how beautiful she looks like this. She’s always been one to have a heart of steel, create that dam covering her fragile trust, her arms wrap you in her embrace, eyes hinting at a sign of concern. The flame in your heart has gone cold, but she’s always been the one fanning the fire back to life. 

When you let her down gently, back sliding against the smooth drywall, her arms shift over her head - opening up the area of her midriff to see, to feel. Your palms have never felt anything smoother until they’re slipping the skirt off from her hips, curling over the waistband of her underwear and she fills the open space between your mouths, “fix me up baby, please.” 

Most of her solid-colored panties get caught between your knuckles, skating down her thigh - you’re hunting, searching, till you reach that empowering heat between her thighs. You could feel the top part of her forearm press firmly on the nape of your neck while one of her shoulder blades drags itself against the wall behind her. 

A drag up, then down across her folds, and she rasps. 

You get a finger in, maybe two just to test, feeling her body tense and grasp and hook onto anything within her reach. Little by little, piece by piece, Haewon’s gradually reduced to these mere meeked noises and hums the more your hands and lips begin their grand assault across the fine canvas of her body. The wetness consumes your fingers, and your mouth increasingly gets greedy as you’re nibbling away at the firm mound of her now exposed breasts, her bra gone in one swift move, mind focusing on too many feelings all at once. 

Her head lolls up and over, opening up the left side of her neck for you to take, gasping. She can’t stop squirming in place, and you’ll deal with that soon enough. “I love your hands,” she sighs. “God, you sure know how to satisfy a woman.” 

Your brain is working on the clock, finding all of the niche places and spots on her body to get her needy for more, and she’s playing spectator, the pad of your tongue swipes upward at the midline of her chest, capturing the hard bud of her nipple between your thumb and index, twisting without a care of her quick pain. 

Haewon gets both of her hands around your head, pulling you up from drowning beneath her neck, showering your face with kisses, forehead pressing against yours, “Happy with your reward?” 

You’ll give credit where it’s due. You hate how intoxicating she is with the snarky remarks and fast banter, but you love how simple she is to break down - send her mind into a downward spiral. She could let you ruin her life, and it would be the same for you. 

It takes a moment too long to consider, your brain is running through the playbook of all the moves and positions you could have her in, which spot in your house would be the most ideal place to simply just bend her over and tear her insides apart until she won’t be able to walk or think straight. A woman like her: clothes pooled and scattered everywhere at her feet, swollen lips and tattered skin just waiting to be ruined. 

Haewon knows you well, where all she has to do is say something to snap your attention back to her: “How do you want me?” 

She’s selfish, there’s no denying that. Though, she doesn’t really care what you think when she’s kissing you shamelessly once more, smushing and smacking her lips across your face, letting her have her way and to sink into her body again. But here is where she forgets, another callback of the few other times she got too ahead of the curve too soon- 

“I think I find you to be prettier when you’re like this,” you tell her, quickly sinking down to your knees moving her thighs over your shoulders; get your face close to that warm, delightful fountain between her thighs when you lift her up from the floor, holding her there. 

-to realize that you too, are also selfish in your own accord; at some point, there’s a time to prove who has what between the two of you, and the sigh of acknowledgment slipping out of her lips gives just enough that you’re doing something right. 

It all could’ve gone wrong for Haewon at any given point in the time you’ve been working with her. All it took was a few mishaps both in and out of her control and she would’ve snapped. In those dire times of need, she had you. Whether it’d be your mouth or your fingers, the way you settle into these well-practiced strokes of your tongue and cock, and she loves to travel down the little rite of passage when you shut her up with a palm on her mouth or a hand to her throat. She knows that you have your limits, and it’s all in her cards for when she’s able to unshackle you from your common sensibilities. A hand is raked into your hair as you’re shifting your head closer and closer, until your breath starts to blanket her leaking entrance, awaiting for your arrival. 

There’s a few mumbles spilling out of her lips when you gently kiss her folds, brush your nose right up against her clit, to where her head bucks forward, giving an unintentional style of wispy bangs the more your mouth starts to scoop up the mess that you’ve created. Her hips buck and jerk, pressing your head deeper into her quivering pussy lips, wanting to get that ache so much faster than intended. 

“God, yes baby- right there,” is all she says, and she can barely manage to prop her head upright when you look up from below. 

A chuckle leaves your nose, arming a coy smile before you carry on your attention onto her swollen clit, sucking and teasing on it shamelessly until you start to feel the insides of her thighs shake against your ears, digging her nails deep into your scalp. 

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, feeling the pressure of Haewon’s legs crushing your skull from within. “Looks like you’ve been pent up for a while now, no?” 

Haewon digs a heel into your back, making you secure the tops of her thighs with your fingers, hitting her head back on the wall. “Among other things.” 

“Really.” You reply flatly, giving her another swift lick of your tongue into her aching cunt, her slick pooling across the wet pad. “Because judging how your body’s reacting, you’ve been wanting me badly since the last time.” 

“Sounds perfectly right.” 

She loses that hefty persona pretty damn quickly when you’re diving into her pussy again, stifling a moan, grinding  her hips into your head, wanting you to keep on licking until she’s had enough (spoiler alert: she hasn’t.) “Do tell me more,” you’re telling her, smacking your lips to the heat, “if you’re able to, of course.” 

“Seriously. Fuck you.” 

“Says the one who’s technically my boss.” 

“Not when it’s after hours I’m not.” 

“What are you implying?” 

Haewon’s eyes squint a bit, trying to keep focus, doubling down on the indulgence of your tongue over her folds. Her face is in a rosy shade of pink, similar to when she’s usually drunk - but this shade however, you’d prefer to see her more in. “Stop pretending to play dumb. I know you can read between the lines here.” 

“And what if I want to be oblivious for once? Like in every situation that we’re in while at work?” 

“You’re not, ah-” 

You’re not giving her any chance to breathe here. She doesn’t deserve it. And when you lather her pussy up in your spit, it’s less than an act of mercy, helplessly whining at the harshful gnawing you’re doing to her poor cunt - it’s what she wants, and she has no one to blame for making you like this but herself. 

“If you’re not my boss during these hours, then what are you?” You inquire.

“I’ll be anything but your boss. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

That’s all the confirmation that you needed, forcefully plummeting her down to her inevitable demise. You feel the muscles in her thighs clench in shock from the unexpected anticipation, biting down her shriek the more you dive into the endless depths of her entrance, satisfying that want that you and her so desperately wanted. 

“Oh,” Haewon sighs out as some epiphany. But the moment of relief washes over her in no time, her layers folding. Collapsing. Her entire body wiggles in this circular motion. “Oh.” 

The heavenly chorus of her mewls fill your ears when you’re cementing your pace, wreaking havoc between her thighs. She’s still got her hand gripping the back of your head, the other flat on the wall. Her stomach bucks and folds at the weight of your tongue, moving your head around in different directions to make sure that you’re hitting every spot with the right approach. The pleasure is building in all of the right places, and you can feel the curl of her toes on your back, ensuring that you’re doing the exact job as her personal toy. “Fuck. Right there, right there.” 

It only increases the flood by tenfold. She’s spilling more and more you kiss, swirl, nibble, and tease - doing everything you can to make sure she reaches that unimaginable peak first. “You’re so good. You’re so so good. Baby- don’t stop, oh my god-” 

Haewon can’t help herself here, leaning her back deeper into the wall and dragging her hips outward, keeping both legs on your shoulders to the best that she can, unable to let up with the bucks and jolts her hips are making into your face. Every quick rush of air past her teeth only holds so much until she starts to feel her stomach bunch up in knots. 

“T-tongue, dear. Oh jesus, you’re so good at- fuck!” she yelps, the tailends of her breaths tattered in these hushed moans, picking up in volume the more you slurp up her pussy to your heart’s content. “Almost, almost.” 

You’re well aware of the fact that Haewon is one of the main catalysts when it comes to operating her job. She’s second to none. The standard. The spearhead. She’s got one of the most sizable clientele’s for a reason. But the jaws of work can consume anybody in this climate, no matter how on top or perfect they can be. It would only be a matter of time for the fatigue to get to her - and with the recent events happening around the office, it did just that. Everyone needs a break from time to time, and she’s no different here. A tongue laps up one spot past the clit, there’s a nibble of her swollen folds between your teeth, and here is where you step up to the role of ensuring that Haewon gets her much deserved intermission here. 

“Right there, I’m gonna-ah! -umming,” Haewon wails, failing to let up with the oral assault on her quivering cunt, her cries filling up your ears, the muscles of her legs locking your back in place, fingers tugging the roots of your hair. “Cumming. I’m fucking cumming.”

These puppy eyes you do to look up, she gazes down, bottom lip still stuck to her teeth as her expression tears, coming down from her needed stress relief. You stay the course in holding her steady, taking account of the lingering twitches and tensions of muscle her body does. 

And not long after, you finally let her down from the wall. Her arms slither around the familiar profiles of your back, lazily planting her lips onto your skin again - Haewon wants another taste of you. It’s also kind of cute how her toes stack up on top of your feet, prompting you to lead the way into the bedroom while she’s closely tethered to you. 

“Love it. Love it so much.” Haewon sighs out, half-lidded eyes caught in your vision. “Love it when you make me cum like that.” 

It’s one of the few moments where she doesn’t expect a response from you, because it’s already true. 

Above everything, you carry on with your steps as Haewon’s lips continue to spell out these hushed curses - all the things that she wants you to do to her - her fantasies, the praises, what she likes you doing and what she wants to do to you with the intent of returning the favor. Her figure is so light in your hands and on your feet, limbs loose enough to bend and twist, a marked up canvas ready for another brush-to-paper moment. 

Gravity here does it’s own thing when she falls backward onto the mattress of your room, her arms doing this natural reflex of going above her head, carving up these unbelievable curves in real time to where her back is off the comforters and her left foot is inching up against her inner right thigh. This image alone was enough for you to mindlessly slip out of your pants and underwear, eyes fixed on Haewon rolling her body: belly facing down, back up, her knees dig deep into the sheets, the upper half stretching a bit while her lower half rises up past your thighs, rounding out her hips. 

Her knees spread wider across the sheets and her back dips, you think - just a bit, and the look she does over her shoulder is the right amount of lethality. You don’t even flinch when she manages to get her fingers onto the length of your cock, telling you the only thing she wants you to do: 

“Take this cock and fuck me.” 

You’d follow her words no matter what. 

Like a siren’s call out in the sea, the sound of Haewon’s voice comes off as this daring risk where the mind starts to slowly reduce itself around her hand, languidly pumping you to the point where the urge to rip the fun out of her is impossible to ignore. 

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts to say. 

You lean down to shower a few kisses to her neck, fingers sliding up to her waist, pressing for a firm hold while an airy giggle passes her lips. 

“How long have you dealt with me? Being like this? 

“Where would I even start?” You hunch over with a trail of kisses down her lower back, cupping the swell of her ass while noting that most of her slick has spread past the underside and to the back of her thighs. “I don’t even remember who made the first move back then.” 

Haewon reaches out for one of your pillows, setting it between her arms and chest, “I’m sure it was you, or maybe it was me. Maybe-” 

A wistful gasp stops her from talking when you slowly press your cock into her leaking pussy, lips slicked up and inviting between those lovely thighs of hers. You drink in the sight of the grip she has around your length as you continue to ease yourself into her, keeping it together poorly before the heat and her pulse gets to your head. 

“Maybe what?” you tell her, attempting to bring back her train of thought from fleeing away. 

This girl who’s backside is arched so high up in the air and stomach buried deep into the sheets looks over her shoulder again, eyes filled with tension - a fire blazing beneath the irises. “Maybe- you were just oblivious about the signals I was sending you, but now that we’re here, I guess you can say that you made the curve.” 

“I won’t deny anything here-” Everything about this is the reality, anyway. You drag and push yourself into the fluttering heat of her second pair of lips. Her body is so responsive in the wants and needs just from the wetness alone, but she knows that you’re not easy to take. “That was an argument I lost a while ago.” 

Your hips flush with Haewon’s and she whines, shoving her face into the pillow set in front of her as she relaxes into the stable pace. A simple yank of her waist back to your thighs serves the only preamble, the quick groan ripped out of your chest, that rush of wanting this tightness and addicting feeling more and more. 

“Right?” You’re asking again, meshing her hips with yours, leaning forward and down to the nape of her neck. Sighs joining together in an impromptu chorus, “I’m not denying you winning me over.” 

Haewon’s hands here go a bit haywire, shooting up and out. One of them comes to grips with the comforter beneath her. You watch her body move, ass rippling through every pump back into her cunt. “Yeah, but you-” 

Her head then dips down into the pillow again, writhing in the twists left and right. You catch yourself hobbling over her upper body once more, lip trapped to your teeth. “You said ‘yeah’. Let’s keep it that way.” 

A gradual rhythm gets developed here, taking in every wonderful inch of Haewon’s dripping cunt, shaft picking up more and more slick with ease in every passing stroke. She’s so wonderfully tight around your length, molding to your cock like it’s the missing piece that makes her feel complete, and whole. There’s an attempt to level herself parallel to the mattress, but you don’t give her any kind of luxury whatsoever, pushing down on the small of her back that deepens the arch, nudging your cockhead down further past the threshold of her calefaction. 

You’re blinking, you’re believing, and you’re pretty much swearing to the heavens above at the thought out realization that Haewon was meant to be yours - like she was made for only you. She’s in the right position, taking you at just the right angle, all sensibilities hanging on a singular thread. Every hit spills out a quick phrase of pants, watch her struggle in keeping her head upright, a slacking neck in response with the consistent slaps of your hips into hers. 

Her slick creates these scattered strings across the skin - not only to the tops of your thighs, but to her ass as well, the sound of her moans bouncing off the walls once they start to rise up a bit in volume. 

“Fucking-” and it’s right at this moment, where she sounds relieved, it all comes down with a firm grind of her teeth, “fuck.” 

“Yeah?” You hum. 

“It’s so-” the blowback of your cock into her cunt becomes a little too much to bear, “it’s so fucking good.” 

You’re holding her in place, right at the hips, the unbelievable form of her ass rocking back and forth with every shift of motion caused by you. The low light of your humidifier works its hours on the nightstand, illuminating the comfy and watered colors onto her skin. She’s drenched in this soft honey shade, laying ruin of the pale sheets on her knees and elbows - face gazing to the window, proffering up these listless praises to fill up your head. 

The thing is: this isn’t the first time that you and her were like this. There’s an absolute certainty that someone living in either the floors above or below your room has heard everything that’s happened within these walls. Surely someone minding their own business walking along the sidewalk outside has seen Haewon’s gorgeous tits pressed up against the glass, her face full of rapture and pleasure - not having any sense of respect or decency to keep it in the room. You remember railing her poor pussy out on the balcony one time; and that was an issue for the landlord to bring up the following day, but neither you nor her really cared. 

What really mattered here, was fucking her brains out. Easy as that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god-” 

Every word that’s punctuated out of her lips starts to collapse on top of each other, the impact of your thrusts siphoning the last bits of air trapped in her lungs. She isn’t making her condition any better, suffocating herself deep into the pillow, hoping to drown out the wet noises of her cunt slipping your cock in with refined precision. This choking grip is more dangerous than her hands, her hitched breaths are in no comparison to your labored huffs, slowing your movements with one forceful drive in, a massage of her asscheeks here, another drag and thrust back into her tight cunt, and a playful slap to her ass, tainting the slick skin in red. 

“Baby, your fucking cunt,” you hiss. “Jesus christ.” 

A whiny ‘mhm-” is all you manage to get out of Haewon, breaking underneath your weight. Her ass is still facing up, face shoved into the pillow, nicking her neck up for air, fucking her down the curve of her spine. “Oh my goodness. You got it so deep. Hit me hard. Please, and I swear to fuck - ngh-” 

You’re groaning, increasing the sway of your hips into hers, “So fucking tight.” Haewon’s hands manage to find yours, holding the swell of her ass together, moving her body the opposite direction away from you, meeting the impact down the middle which sends your balls lightly tapping the nub of her clit. She knows that you’ve been working a bit too much for your own sake, so she goes on ahead and has her own fun, fucking herself back onto your cock, the recoil alone enough for you to just freeze on your knees and take it. 

“S’that feel good?” she asks innocently.

Spilling out another expletive, you angle your hips up as her ass comes crashing down. 

“You’re so hard for me,” Haewon continues, looking over with her body still pressed against the sheets, the left side of her face smiling at the sight of you trying to hold it together. “This cock fits so well inside- jesus, ah- had to let yourself go for a bit, didn’t you?” 

“If you keep your hips moving with my hands tied, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” 

The plot was already lost from the first dirty thought you had with her. 

Her ass keeps your lower half in check, unknowingly moving through muscle memory while the walls of your room continue to reverberate the stuttering breaths and quick curses slipping out of both of your lips. Your hands hold still in tandem with her fingers and start to claw into your palms, pleasure spiking everywhere in her body, skin hot to the touch as the claps start to increase in tempo - the rate shifting to something more desperate, erratic. 

“My fucking god, shit!” She wails, her hands shooting down to her ass, spreading herself wider while you lock your eyes at the sight of your cock buried into her cunt becomes a whole lot more clearer now, “Right there baby, holy fuck- this cock is just-” Haewon’s demeanor is diminishing by the second, words and sighs tumbling over in loops, but the pitch in her whines hit a familiar key or tone, gradually crescendoing when she gives up in squirming between your fingers. 

“Pound my ass- yes, fuck- this dick is amazing.” Her head swivels up before ducking below into the open cavity of her chest and arms, sucking in her stomach with whatever strength she has left, “Give me more,” she’s panting, head spinning and spinning like a ceiling fan, “Give it to me. I need more-” 

There’s not much left for you to take other than the stray tit that’s captured into your hand when you hunch yourself over her again, lift the upper half of her body upwards so that she’s in line with yours, entrapping that heat away from the cool air, trembling. Your mouth is back to her ear again, eyes half-lidded, fingers moving around your neck while the warmth of her cunt starts to burn across your length - the new lane created where your cock slides into her that creates this sequence of events of her convulsing, shuddering, pulling her hips back with a sole purpose to just ruin her. You’re hearing a slight wheeze out of her, maybe a sob too, the head of your cock’s hit a spot past her threshold where it literally makes her go stupid; mind and body into putty, exactly the way you like it. 

Her fingers continue to hold tight, cunt clenching around your thick shaft when you’ve finally got her past that edge. There’s a bit of a moment of pause when you and her are stacked on top of each other, exhaustion finally breaking through, coaxing her second orgasm as you’re keeping your cock warm inside of her, feeling her hips spaz out of control while you endure in fucking her poor, spent, pretty pussy. Both heels of her feet bend towards the backside of your thighs, pressing her waist into the mattress, sliding yourself out the tightness before teasing her with the half of your shaft. 

“There we go, Haewon. I’ve got you,” you’re telling her. The tone of your voice drowned out by the keening shattering through. “You’re perfect. Cum over this cock, baby. You deserved it.” 

She keeps on sighing when she comes down from her second high, summoning this lazy grin while you’re peppering her face with kisses, an indication for a job well done. But she taps the top of your hand twice, resting at the crease of her hips - and the shimmy of her hips still embedded with your cock tells you only one thing: 

“I wanna make you cum.” 

The insanity this woman has. It does something to you. 

So you waste no time at all. It’s enormously more than just a mess with how fucked up she is. 

When you give her what she needs: flipping on her back was the way to go, yanking her hips back into yours until you see her eyes go wide at the sudden stroke before rolling up behind her head and past her eyelids - everything starts to fall into place with the way the back of her ankles hold your waist, which only leaves you with the sole choice of pounding her so fucking hard that you’d have to hook yourself into the arch of her back where she’ll have no where to go - it’s a position well practiced, your ol’ reliable: firing your cock on all cylinders at a pace so inhuman until she’s able to look you in the eyes and cast a spell for you to finish on her pretty face and leave her there with the damage when it’s all said and done - the assurance that you’ll give her what she wants and have you craving for more - kissing you shamelessly like she’ll be stoned to a rock come the next day, and when you’re feeling the pit of your stomach open more and more, the muscles in your hips and legs moving and tensing in the midst of this sex-filled frenzy, there was only one instinct in your mind where it didn’t take much to pump and dump your load inside her. 

You can feel yourself getting close, head dizzying. “Haewon-” 

“I know, handsome boy,” she praises, pulling you so that your forehead touches hers, “can feel you throbbing down there.” 

She lets out this airy laugh when you wince a bit, hands reined at the small of her back and bringing her waist in, the impact of your cock rebounds her body once the pace starts to decrease. 

“Fill me up, like you always do,” Haewon husks, voice barely a whisper in contrast to your hoarseness, “Put a baby in me.” 

There’s this sort of tension in the air along with your body, driving your cock deep into her, burying your cum into the crevices of her pulsing hotness. Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, telling you to keep cumming inside of her, feeling every hot thread of your release coating her slopped walls. 

You can feel yourself get light-headed - the warmth alone, not to mention how wet and tight her pussy is still, a place where everything feels right - but the lust filled in your head starts to fade, blackened vision returning to normal; and before you know it, you’re coming back to earth. 

Neither of you move a muscle. Instead, you lay there for a bit, taking in the dwindling time of exploring each other’s bodies, holding yourselves together while your lips are conducting one final battle for that last dominance, the stench of sex and sweat still fresh and out to the open air. 

Haewon manages to wrap both of her arms around your neck, kissing the slope of her neck and collarbone, scratching the back of your head, looking up to the ceiling with a lazy smile, one plastered with satisfaction. She taps your shoulder to grab your attention, but all you could come up with was a simple hum, which seemed to be enough for her. 

“Go get me some lemons and water. I owe you a special something and a ride.” 

–

Morning rolls around not long after, and assessing the lay of the land of your living space with one eye open. Everything seems to be in their place, tv remotes, work bag next to the neighboring desk, and the singular cup on the counter next to the fridge. Another thing to note, Haewon already got a jump start to the day. 

You’re sliding across the floor with said singular cup being put into the kitchen sink, but with the other eye open now, you notice something at the corner of the kitchen island: a small box left open. 

“I wonder what she has for me this time,” you say to yourself, examining the box which turned out to be a contraceptive tablet. A note also slips out with a card attached. 

“Take today off. I’ll be coming over later. By the way, I hope you won’t get mad at me for snatching your little gift from Jiwoo. It was too cute for you to have sitting on your nightstand or coffee table, so I took it for myself. 

p.s 

Don’t worry about last night so much. I had everything thought out since our little ‘accident’ the first time. Can’t really say the same thing with what I said, but you can choose to ignore it…or not ;’)

- Haewon

xo <3” 

The attached card flipped over showed the name of the gacha toy gifted to you. A justified reaction of sighing with rolled eyes and the shake of your head was pretty much the start of some days; but hey, at least the breaks are enjoyable. 

“Sleight of hand my ass,” you mutter, thumbing the small slip of paper in your fingers, “she stole that from me.” 

-

a/n: sending my special flowers to @majorblinks (i love you foreverrr <3), @passingnotions (for happily agreeing to poke around wherever in the draft), and @yieldtotemptation (to opening the floodgates with ur bae fic).

thank you for reading and wemo check. :3

[dubina-dawkins]

FORD MUSTANG '66 BACK SEAT

~2k words (i got carried away :p)

pairing: teen! dean winchester x teen!virgin! reader

> your uncle got you a perfect 18th birthday gift - white ford mustang '66, and dean is in awe. not only because of the car, but because of the birthday girl too

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! f! masturbation mentioned, loss of virginity, fingering, p in v, unprotected (done by professionals don't try at home), softdom! dean, afab! reader, really fluffy and gentle, lots of kisses i mean how do they still breath, may be kind of continuation (but not a direct one but after some time yk) of my previous work with teen! dean and teen! reader, reader is hunter btw but this is mentioned less, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

"Are you kidding...he gave you that baby girl? Damn it, your uncle has taste!" Dean laughs, approaching the vintage car from the bumper, palms wide on the cold metal. He stares out the windshield, then walks around the car in a circle before turning back to you, one arm around your shoulders.

Your birthday was literally, like, a week ago? But since your uncle was busy, he didn't get you a present until yesterday. And today Dean was here on your call. Secretly from dad, of course. Sam's at school somewhere, so there's no need to keep an eye on the kid, so, uh...

"Uh-huh. A useful gift for hunters, huh? Especially since uncle let me hunt alone or with you now... Cool stuff. And even though I'm a bit of a machine builder 'cause I'm always helping him, I think I'm gonna need some help, you know..." You start, turning so that your fingers slip into his messy hair, and Dean laughs.

"If you want me to drive this hottie until you get your driver's license-"

"Bingo!"

Dean laughs, his hands finding a place on your ribs as he pulls you into a tender kiss. The touch of his lips on yours was always too gentle, and it was infuriating sometimes. Knowing Dean, he could have done so much more. Just cared, I guess?

You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Knowing Dean freakin' Winchester, it was easy to see that he loved you very much. Well, loved you as much as he could. Sometimes it was a fight, but not a big one - hell, you're only 18, what the hell is there to fight about?

Especially since you now had official permission for alone time - soon you'd be hunting together, which meant lots of adventure, blood, sweat, and lives saved. Sometimes that last point was purely functional, and yet. Just you and him.

You couldn't call yourself an innocent Christian girl. You hated the church, God and angels with all your soul after all you had seen and gone through. They're in, they're out, it doesn't make much difference. So sinning didn't seem like a bad idea. Especially when you're just getting back from a walk with Dean in the night, when he's running away from home in his father's car - let's just say he wasn't promised his own car until he was 21 - and the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, ribs, waist and hips still hangs in space...

Then your fingers traveled south, stroking first the lower abdomen, then the labia, then the wet passage, and finally up to the clit.... you could've sworn your panties hadn't been dry after any encounter with your boyfriend. Dean's wink or a glance at your neck, your waist, and you'd be drowning. God, why's he so pretty all the time?

"Okay, now..." Dean pulls back and walks around the car to open the door and land in the driver's seat. His eyes glisten, and you can tell he's enjoying this immensely. Somewhere along the lines of his favorite movies and listening to Led Zeppelin.

His strong palms grip the steering wheel, and he leans back to keep it at arm's length. And Dean laughs again, stroking the leather of the steering wheel with his thumbs. "Pretty one, that's for sure..."

You land in the backseat, and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. Without even hearing his question, you smile and fold your hands in your lap.

"I can't get used to the fact that it's all, like, mine. And I'm kind of scared to sit in the front. I guess it'll pass with time." You don't have time to finish the sentence when he gets out of the car, and a few moments later he's standing in front of the open backseat door.

"Then I should join you," he laughs, jumping to you, putting his hand on your lower back. You shriek and laugh, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is long, sensual, and at some point Dean's hands move down to your thighs, spreading them wide, and he pushes you back against the seats, towering over you. When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked up at him wide-eyed, doubt flickering across his face instead of a smirk.

"Uh...I hope you've-...you've already had someone, right...?" he gently takes you by the hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you only blush.

"Well...no?"

Dean closes his eyes for a moment and frowns, stroking your thighs with his thumbs, the same tenderness he used to stroke the steering wheel of your Mustang. Yeah, well, considering you were a hunter too, you didn't have much of a chance for a relationship...

"Ah, so...I get to be first? Woah..." he'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him even more, but it scared him too. However, he smiles and bends towards you, not allowing you to give an answer, his lips pressed against yours again. He places one hand on your chin, gently, two fingers opening your mouth for his tongue as his other hand creeps down to your stomach, stroking it.

"God, you're so- aah, fuck..." Dean sinks down between your legs, unzipping the fly of your jeans and pulling them down your legs. When his teeth snag the elastic of your panties, you whimper, putting your hand on his head, and he laughs. "Shh, not yet."

He looks at your glistening, wet folds, and God, it means everything. Dean licks his fingers - though it wasn't necessary at all, you were fucking soaked - and gently presses his thumb against your clit. When that elicits a soft moan of his name from you, he chuckles.

"Are you okay, baby?" He whispers, kissing your stomach, and gently pulls up your t-shirt. He kisses your collarbones while his free hand works on the clasp of your bra.

But God, you're too good to respond with anything but a whimper. You take off your shirt, and he pulls off your bra, and for a moment he just stops, staring at you. A low growl escapes Dean's lips. "You're so beautiful for me, baby..."

He brings his hand back to your pussy, gently stroking the space next to your passage, and your already tight walls tighten around nothing. He whimpers at the mere sight, pressing his lips to your nipples. Every sensation is new, every touch sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body. You put your arms around his neck, one hand creeping up to his disheveled hair, the other reaching down to his back.

Dean throws off his leather jacket and flannel, leaving only a T-shirt, and the cold material of his amulet burns your skin as he leans in again to leave kisses on your skin. "It might hurt now. Tell me if you need me to stop..." But you both know that neither you nor he wants to stop it.

Dean rises to capture your lips again in a kiss, and his middle finger slides into your channel, and you let out a loud sob at the sensation. His fingers are different, feel completely unfamiliar. And it's too exciting, especially when he gently pushes his finger deeper, and your core squelches so lewdly that you blush.

"De...feels so good," you whimper, hugging his shoulders, your hands in fists clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. "I'm trying, love," he laughs against your lips, his finger stroking your walls in a circular motion, and you grind against his hand - at which point Dean presses his hand to your stomach and begins to move his own finger inside, discreetly adding his ring finger as well.

You arch your back, and he kisses your cheek. "So good, you're so good, baby. So good at taking me like a good girl," your walls clench around his fingers at his praise, and Dean groans at the sensation - the bump on his jeans getting noticeably harder as he muffles both his and your moans with a kiss.

You feel bratty, pulling your hands to his belt, and Dean growls against your lips. "Can you handle this? I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart," he pulls his own jeans down, tossing them off his legs somewhere on the back of the driver's seat, followed by his T-shirt. Your fingers stroll phantomly over his waist and hip bones as he slides his fingers out of you with a squelch of your walls, and you whimper unhappily.

"Please, Dean-"

"Shh, shh, shh..." He strokes your cheek, bending down to kiss your swollen lips again, and his free hand guides your palms to the waistband of his boxers, and you obediently pull that down, letting him away from the kiss. Your eyes widen as you stare at his erection, and Dean chuckles shyly.

"Whoa..." you lick your lips, and purely out of interest, you touch your fingers to the tip. His shaft throbbed, and Dean let out a high-pitched whimper as his precum began to glisten under your finger.

"Baby, let's not make any more comments," he picks up your hand, intertwining your fingers, and gently positions himself between your thighs. Dean can't resist the opportunity to rub me against your swollen clit, and you synchronously make almost identical sounds - something between a high-pitched moan and a sob.

"...Are you sure?"

"Dean, shut up and get to work."

He laughs, leaning down to your face again. "That's my girl."

And he pushes into you in one, slow thrust, inch by inch, swallowing your moans of pain and pleasure in another kiss. God, a little more, and your lips would have turned blue.

He pulls away from your lips, arching his back, and catches your hands in his, intertwining your fingers again. Dean hisses, squeezing your hands. "So fucking tight...just for me, huh...?"

He doesn't just fill you up - his hardness overwhelms you, and you feel complete for the first time in your life. Your fingers grip his hands as if your whole life depends on it. "F-fuck, it's so huge-"

"Believe it or not, you're the first person to tell me that," he leans to you again, kissing your cheek as his hips move and he begins his slow pace. His thrusts may be measured but they're precise, each time his tip taps harder on that most sensitive point inside you, and it seems there are more stars in front of your eyes than there are in the night sky.

"You're doing well, baby...So tight, so wet, so pliable, just, just for me..." He whispers into your ear as his thrusts become less controlled, more needy. Your walls quiver and his length throb more and more inside-you're both close, and that knowledge drives you insane.

"D- yaaah, Dean, I'm close-" He doesn't answer anything, just presses his lips against you again and roughly penetrates your mouth with his tongue, his palms gripping your waist hard enough to bruise it, but one hand does drop down between your bodies to caress your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And this is it, you cry out his name, your walls tighten around his cock, and he hisses, with a loud pop of your bodies releasing his length from your heat.

But you don't let him out that easily.

"My turn," you grin weakly, your hand taking his erection in your fist, giving it a few quick strokes, and he fucks your fist like he's in heat, nuzzling his face against your neck, making a moan so pathetic it's even cute.

"I love you so much...Baby, baby, sweetheart, fuck-" He whispers frantically, and with one final thrust, shots of his seed crash into your palm, your side, and the leather of the seats. Dean wraps his arms around your shoulders tightly, pulling you close, his face finding its place in your hair as he exhales hoarsely. "So fucking much..." he says, breathing heavily, his voice muffled by your locks.

There were tissues in the glove compartment, right?

a/n: still love my baby. still a tooth rotting fluff. your honor I'm sorry!! was working on reqs but i just thought of this idea and couldn't get it out of my head so that's it.......

[thickenmyblood]

thank you

most people on earth look forward to and enjoy the hell out of their birthdays. for a few years now, i haven't been part of that group. when i close my eyes and think about birthdays, i always picture someone else blowing out the candles, or eating overly frosted cake, or getting well-thought-out presents. it's "other people stuff", the same way i thought about kissing with tongue when i was twelve or the way i now think about having kids. it's stuff other people get to do.

last friday, however, i got a collaborative gift from many people in this fandom. some of them i've spoken to and chatted with a hundred times over the years since i joined this online space, but others were complete strangers! people whose usernames i recognize from ao3 comments or twitter screenshots or fanart—they took the time to write me messages and participate in this beautiful gift out of the kindness of their hearts.

though i sometimes lurk and watch from afar, i am not active on here anymore, but i felt the need to address any of those people that might be reading this: thank you. not just for this gift, but for taking the time to read my stories. writing is such a lonely craft. it takes so, so long to complete a single project. and yet things like this (people like this) are a reminder of why we all do it.

i have read every single message. i wish i could give you a 1:1 reply, or that there was a way in which i could repay that kindness, but i don't think there's much i can do or say other than thank you again and again and again.

it hasn't been a year since i finished posting my last fic, but these months have been incredibly lonely for me. as i said, writing often is. to think there is someone out there—anyone, really—that to this day sometimes, even in quick passing, thinks about anything i have ever written . . . that is the greatest gift. i look back at 2020 and remember all of its awfulness, its insanity, its loss. but i also remember how much it gave me back, all the friends i made, and the way it dusted off not only writing itself, but other hopes, too.

all of this to say: thank you. i hope I can repay you soon with new stories to read.

and a special thank you to lilium, who was the one that made it happen! a friend, through and through, always.

[ms--lobotomy]

@men-want-me-fish-fear-me gave me Lucius brainworms. Melt it

Summary: A hunt for a pet doesn't go as expected. Word Count: 762 Content Warnings: Smut, Pred/Prey, Lucius the Eternal, body horror, in my mind this is all consensual but I didn't specify in this fic so dubcon i guess, masc reader, public? Emperor's Children that are even worse than him. Also SMUT and potentially into DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT territory Image Credit: @squishyowl

The link in the chain snapped with a pop, and you knew it was time to run. You tripped over batteries and other such things he considered snacks, leaving marks and gashes in your bare feet. Fuck. You adjusted the small loincloth over your privates as you got back up. He was not only a Space Marine, but a gelatinous abomination and and affront to all gods but Slaanesh. You knew he knew you were free.

You opened the door, paying no mind to how loud it was. There were faces in the wall of Lucius's quarters, shrieking and yowling in pain.

"Run," one of them said.

"I'm fucking trying," you huffed under your breath as you left his quarters.

The ship was empty, eerily so. You felt the fleshy floor under your feet, and groaned as you started walking forwards. There weren't many full faces in here, thank goodness, but you felt a tooth every once in a while.

It wasn't long before you heard familiar, heavy steps. Slaaneshi mutations affected everyone in different ways; it gave Lucius fleshy hooves and made his tongue long and sandpaper-y. You shivered as you fumbled for another door, opening it with even more force than the last one.

There were the Emperor's Children, far away, but a flank was headed in your direction. You shrunk yourself back to avoid notice by them. The only thing more dangerous than Lucius was one of his brothers; in particular, any that didn't particularly like him.

You heard them picking up their pace. Shit. You looked for anything to hide in, hide behind. There was a tentacle sticking up from the floor, but in a cruel act of Slaanesh, it slipped back into the ground.

"What's over there?" one of the Emperor's Children asked.

You froze. You tried to stay still, but they bolted towards you with ungodly weapons in hand. Your eyes widened, and before you knew it, one of them grabbed you by the neck. You tensed up while he lifted you up to his face. His eyeholes glowed slightly, lighting up more as he spoke.

"Hmm..." he said, running a finger along your jaw. "Baseline."

Another one laughed. "Don't see those too often!" His helmet lit up just like his brother's.

The third one nodded. "Might be someone's pet. Be careful."

You were about to sigh with relief before the first removed his helmet. There was a horrid speaker where his mouth was supposed to be, and his eyes were two small black dots right where the bridge of his nose was supposed to be. You felt his breath? Noise? Upon your face. You shut your eyes, prepared for the worst, until a voice broke the silence.

"Hey! That's mine!"

You breathed a sigh of relief as Lucius came after you. His footsteps were rather squishy sounding, even more so than anyone's would be on this floor.

The Emperor's Children dropped you, scurrying away as he brandished his blade at them. His tongue was out, swaying behind him like a stray tentacle. He really did look like the galaxy's ugliest dog.

You tried to get back up onto your feet, but you stumbled on the fleshy ground of the ship. You felt him get closer to you, picking you up by your armpits. He looked you up and down, unhooking one hand to thumb at the bruise the first Emperor's Child left.

"I will deal with this..." he said, and you thought he was going to put you down for a second before he opened his mouth again.

"Later."

You nodded, going limp in his grasp. His green eyes surveyed you further, looking over every inch of exposed skin. He flicked the bruises and cuts on your feet, and you let out a yelp. His skin felt gelatinous on yours. It seemed he was melting as he touched you.

All of a sudden, he dropped you. You looked back at him, inching away. He chuckled.

"Go on. Are you going to run?"

You felt a lump manifest in your throat as your arms and legs failed you. You landed on a tooth near the surface of the floor as you went limp. That was going to bruise later. He let out a full on belly laugh, looming over you. He blocked out what little light there was in the hallway. He leaned down and licked your cheek with that sandpaper-y tongue.

"I'm going to fill you up with more cum than you have organs," he said, grabbing your ankle as you struggled under him.

"Pet."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[pxnsneverland]

Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 4)

(gif source: austinbutlermischief)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 2198

warnings/notes: N/A

Chapter 4: Behind the Music

After a few days, it seemed strange not going to see Elvis on set every morning. Angel found myself with an unusually large amount of free time. This newfound freedom, however, gave Angel the opportunity to dive back into her own passions which had been somewhat sidelined during the intense filming schedule. She spent hours in her small studio, her fingers dancing over textiles and sketches as she conjured up new designs. Between meetings and recordings for a Christmas album he didn’t even want to continue doing, Elvis sought refuge in Angel's studio. The space was serene and flooded with natural light, the walls draped with fabrics of all textures and colors. It was worlds away from the glittering harshness of the showbiz industry that continually tried to mold Elvis into something he was not. As Angel worked, Elvis would often sit quietly in a corner, strumming his guitar lightly, sometimes humming along to whatever tune floated into his mind.

One afternoon, as Elvis watched her sketching a new pattern, he broke the silence with an unexpected suggestion. “Angel, baby,” he started tentatively, “Once all the contracts are up and everything is resolved here, the Colonel is talkin’ about goin’ back to performin’. Movin’ to Las Vegas.”

Angel paused her sketching, her pencil hovering mid-air as she processed his words. The thought of Las Vegas—a city of bright lights and endless nights—seemed so far removed from the quiet intimacy of their current moments. She looked up at him, trying to read his expression. "Las Vegas, huh?" she said softly, laying down her pencil.

“Yeah, Las Vegas. It’s a good place to start up my music again, getting away from LA and leave ‘movie star Elvis’ behind.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself it was a good move as well as her. “I want you to come with me.”

Angel felt her heart skip a beat at the invitation, the gravity of his words sinking in. She had only been in LA a short while herself, chasing something more than her old country town. She had thought getting a job at the production studio had been that ‘something more’. Until Elvis came into her life. Now, with Elvis’s proposal hanging in the air between them, a new chapter seemed to be beckoning. She hesitated for a moment, the threads of her previous life tugging at her heartstrings. “That’s a…big step, Elvis.”

Elvis watched her carefully, his eyes searching hers for any hint of what she might be thinking. “I know it’s big, darlin’. But I ain’t just talkin’ about Vegas. I’m talkin’ about us. You and me, takin’ on the world together. I can’t imagine bein’ anywhere without you.”

His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Angel took a deep breath. She set her pencil down fully and moved towards him, her hands reaching out to grasp his. “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he affirmed earnestly, capturing her hands in his own and holding them tight.

Angel looked around the studio, at the creations that represented her dreams and aspirations. Could she really leave all this behind? Yet, looking back at Elvis, she realized that he *was* her dream now, inextricably woven into the fabric of her future. She smiled, the decision suddenly clear in her mind. "Alright, Elvis.”

Elvis exhaled a sigh of relief, his face breaking into a wide grin. “You won’t regret it, Angel. I promise you that.” He pulled her into his arms.

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

Half of Angel’s apartment was already packed in preparation for her upcoming move to Las Vegas even if some of Elvis' description of it seemed much too excessive for her. The boxes piled high in the small living room, each labeled with meticulous care: 'Kitchen stuff', 'Sketchbooks', 'Fabric'. Angel moved among them, her heart a mixture of excitement and apprehension. As she folded another of her delicate designs into a box marked 'Studio', she paused, holding the fabric against her cheek. The texture was familiar, comforting. In that moment, the doorbell rang, pulling her from her reverie. She set the fabric down gently and walked over to open the door. Standing there, with a lopsided grin was Elvis. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint as he saw the chaos of her half-packed apartment.

“What are you doing here?” Angel asked returning his grin.

“I was hopin’ to pull you away from all this packing.” He kissed her briefly on the lips. “I want you to come somewhere with me today.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” He motioned behind him and there was a car waiting with a driver.

Angel hesitated, glancing back at the mountain of boxes that still needed her attention. But the allure of an unexpected adventure with Elvis was too tempting to resist. With a playful sigh, she grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.

For the whole of the hour-long car trip, Angel pleaded with Elvis to reveal their destination. With a devilish grin on his face, he continued encouraging her to be patient. As the car continued driving up the mountain, past trees, plants, and the odd cactus, she eventually gave up asking. The road curved and twisted through the landscape, each turn revealing breathtaking vistas that Angel had only ever seen in photographs. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow over everything. The car finally slowed to a stop behind the Hollywood sign. Elvis got out first then opened the door for Angel extending his hand to assist her out the vehicle. She strolled to the 'O' and stared out the center onto the metropolis. It was stunning in appearance, enormous in size, and all encompassing.

Elvis stood beside her, his presence a comforting constant. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they both took in the expansive view. “I wanted to show you this,” he said softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

Angel turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. “It’s beautiful, Elvis. But why here?”

He smiled. “I used to come here a lot when I first moved to Los Angeles. Things seem so simple and quiet up here.” He sat down in the crook of the 'O' and leaned back. He took her hand. “I’ve arranged a meetin’. Jerry told me about these guys he had met goin’ out one night. They’re called Binder and Bones. He kept sayin’ ‘You gotta meet these guys, E.P.! They’re the ones who put James Brown and the Rolling Stones on stage. You gotta meet ‘em’. When we were talkin’ in the trailer about me gettin’ back to myself and all…I thought it wouldn’t hurt to give ‘em a call.”

Angel sat beside him, her heart beating with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The idea of Elvis reconnecting with his musical roots and stepping back onto the stage was thrilling, yet the uncertainty of it all weighed heavily on her. "Binder and Bones, huh?" she mused aloud, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Elvis squeezed her hand gently, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city below. "Yeah, they're supposed to be real innovators in the music scene.”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “The Colonel doesn’t know about this, does he?”

A pack of cigarettes appeared from Elvis's pocket. With his lips, he drew one out and lit it. He exhaled the cigarette smoke. “No, he doesn’t. And I’d like to keep it that way for now. He’s got his own ideas about what my comeback should look like, but I need to do this my way.”

Angel nodded. “Well, I don’t have any objections. You know how I feel about that man.”

Elvis chuckled softly, the smoke curling up into the air between them. "I know, darlin'. That's why I'm doing this with you by my side. You understand me more than anybody else."

“Who knows what’s better for Elvis Presley than Elvis Presley, right?”

Elvis grinned, that familiar twinkle lighting up his eyes. “My angel…with you, I think I can finally get things right.” He drew her in and brushed their lips together.

They separated when they heard footsteps approaching. Jerry approached then along with two guys: Binder and Bones. It was clear that all three of them meant business. Angel withdrew her hand from Elvis's. His chest rose and fell as he looked out at the cityscape again.

The guys came to a complete halt. “Mr. Binder, Mr. Howe, this is Mr. Elvis Presley and Ms. Angel Casteel.”

Angel gave a friendly nod to each of them. Elvis pretended for a second that he didn't notice their presence. He looked immersed in what he was seeing. Then he spoke, “When I first came to Hollywood, I would come up here and sit for hours. Right over there…” From where he was seated, the Griffith Observatory was readily visible across the distance. “...that’s where they shot Rebel Without A Cause. Man, I used to dream of bein’ a great actor like Jimmy Dean. The sign was beautiful then.” He stopped to examine the rusty metal that was only visible from this vantage point. “And now…Feels as though lots of things are like that these days. Broke down, beat up. Rotten.”

Elvis removed his sunglasses and proceeded. “I really like what you guys did, putting James Brown and the Stones together.”

Binder responded right away. “We’re, uh…big fans of yours, too. It’s just that, Mr. Presley, we don’t usually—”

“Oh, Elvis.”

“Elvis, uh…” Binder continued, “Christmas specials aren’t really our thing.”

That made Elvis grin knowingly. “I know.” His grin, however, was short-lived and rapidly faded. “Tell me honestly, where do you boys think my career’s at right now?” 

Both Binder and Bones gazed at one other, their silence revealing their reluctance to speak. Bones answered, “Well, it’s…”

“It’s in the toilet, Elvis,” Binder said. He gave Angel a sidelong look. “Sorry for the terminology, ma’am.”

Angel gave a small smile, showing that she took no offense. She appreciated the honesty; it was something Elvis desperately needed if he was going to make a real comeback.

“My girl may look like a lady, but she’s tough.” Elvis laughed and gave Angel a knowing grin before returning to the conversation. “Oh Lord. I knew you were the right guys for this job. You know, back when I was starting out, some people wanted to put me in jail or even kill me, ‘cause of the way I was movin’.” He dismounted from his perch and began to stroll. He stopped when he reached a beam holding up one of the letters and rested against it. “So they cut my hair, put me in a uniform and they sent me away.” Once again, Elvis's mind was wandering off into the past. “That killed my mother. And ever since then…I’ve been lost.”

Angel approached Elvis and placed a protective arm over his forearm. “Elvis…”

He lowered his head and smiled at her. “I’m alright, darlin’.” Elvis turned to see Binder and Bones, who were still listening intently.  “When you’re lost, people take advantage. It wasn’t until an angel came into my life...that I realized how truly lost I was. I need you fellas to help me get back to who I really am.” His tone was pleading rather than assertive.

“And who are you, Elvis?” Binder inquired, peering upward through his oversized sunglasses.

“Well, he sure as hell ain’t someone who sings Christmas songs by a fireplace in a wool sweater,” Angel commented with her hands on her hips. Both Binder and Bones laughed nervously to themselves, then quickly resumed their serious businesslike demeanor.

“And what does the Colonel think?” Bones asked.

“I don’t give a damn what the Colonel thinks,” Elvis answered back.

That appeared to arouse both producers's attention as they exchanged happy glances. They agreed to film Elvis's special and confirmed it with a handshake.

“We’ll start drawing up plans,” Binder said, “Set designs and everything and we’ll run them by you. I promise you’re not going to regret this.”

“No matter if it works out or not, I don’t regret anythin’,' ' Elvis declared.

Jerry waved farewell as he led Binder and Bones back to their vehicle at the top of the hill. When everyone else was gone, Angel grabbed Elvis and threw her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her shoulder stroking calming circles all over her back. They held each other for what seemed like an eternity. Elvis took a step back to look her directly in the eye, but his hands remained planted firmly on her waist. “This is gonna be big, baby doll. I can feel it. Bigger than anythin’ anyone has ever done before.” He pulled strands of hair out of her face. “But no matter what happens, I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you, understand?”

Angel chuckled a little. “What’s gonna happen to me?”

Elvis drew her in for a close kiss on the forehead and then lingered there. He took a long breath in. “Nothin’.”

Stay tuned for part 5!! Click HERE to view!

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 14: HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 13 | MASTERLIST | CH 15 [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: drama, angst, fluff, smut, language, short smau, [redacted] wc: ~10.9k (sry lol) song inspo: Sweetness x Elmiene ft. Leon Thomas (fav song rn! so underrated) 💌: heavens gates are closed for me full stop no comma

“You’re gonna bite right through the pen cap if you keep chewing on it” Trent teased, breaking through the silence in the car. He glanced at you from the driver’s seat with his eyes crinkling in the corners as he caught you with the pen cap clutched between your teeth. You quickly pulled the cap from your mouth and held it tightly in your hand instead.

“Sorry..” you muttered, embarrassed. “I just..ugh. This whole thing feels weird. I just wanna do the creative stuff, y’know?” You glanced down at the folder in your lap. “This other stuff is...just not for me.”

Trent quietly chuckled as the soft pops of his gum filled the space between his words. “You sound like me when I’ve got media duties. ‘I just wanna play football’” he mimicked in an imitated complaining tone.

You slumped back into the passenger seat with your eyes drifting back to the folder on your lap like it was a ticking time bomb. “I just hate that I have to do this..” you admitted quietly. “It’s not like I don’t trust them but..” you trailed off, staring at the window while the car moved through the passing streets. 

“Baby,” Trent spoke softly, cutting through your thoughts. He moved his hand from the gear shift to rest it above your knee. “You’re not doing this because you don’t trust them. It’s just to protect what’s yours, yeah? There’s a difference.”

You nodded, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. “NDAs just feel so corporate. Like.. ‘Hi, welcome back to work. Here’s some legally binding paperwork to remind you not to gossip and spill any of my secrets.’ It makes me look like a snob, right?”

Trent laughed and shook his head. “Nah, it doesn’t. It makes you look like someone who built something amazing from scratch and doesn’t want it wrecked by somebody running their mouth. If they have any sense then they’ll sign the paper without a fuss.”

“Maybe” you sighed, still staring at the folder that held the paperwork. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have for something that was light enough to blow away with the wind. “It’s not just about the store though... it’s everything. My life, my family...you. And if they’re leaking stuff…”

Trent gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, sensing your spiralling thoughts. “And that’s exactly why you’re doing this. If Ziggy didn’t catch them it could be way worse by now. First it’s believable rumours, then it’s ‘Trent’s secret baby mum spotted in Liverpool.’”

You snapped your neck at him, eyeing him with annoyance. “Out of all the things to come out of your mouth...why would you say that? That’s not even funny Trent..I’m sure there are girls lining up for that opportunity.”

“I’m just saying,” he added, laughing softly. “Better to nip it now than deal with stuff like that later. It’s not like you’re firing them or anything. You’re being smart about your business.”

Maybe he was right, but that didn’t stop the feeling of your stomach twisting from anxiety. You tilted your head back, staring at the roof of the car like it could give you some sort of divine intervention to avoid this whole mess. “This is going to be so awkward..” you groaned with your dread evident. 

Your thoughts drifted to your assistants who had become such a big part of daily life at Les Notes d’Amour. Tara always had an infectious energy that made the store feel a little brighter. She was bubbly, and sometimes way too chatty for her own good. It wasn’t hard to picture a LFC loving uni student spilling something to someone without realizing how far it could spiral, whether it was accidentally or not. Ember was the complete opposite of Tara, and was often sharp, calm, and systematic. Her precision was one of the reasons you hired her in the first place. It was always like she was two steps ahead of everyone else, and you liked that since you were an overthinker. You knew you could always count on her to get things done while you were away. She didn’t seem like the gossiping type, but you didn’t really know much about either of them outside of Les Notes.

“Maybe I should’ve done this when Camille mentioned it” you quietly acknowledged as the storefront came into view. “Or maybe I should’ve just let her dad handle the hiring process. That would’ve saved me from this headache.”

Trent steered into a parking spot in front of the shop and cut the engine. “Nah. It’s better coming from you. Your store, your rules.”

His optimism was appreciated, but your mind was already racing as you wondered how the conversation could go. Would Tara burst into tears and make it more awkward than it already was going to be? Would Ember cross her arms and roll her eyes over something so trivial? Or even worse, would one of them get offended enough to quit on the spot?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the folder as if it could detonate at any second. You didn’t know what to expect, despite trying to come up with every possibility in your head. The uncertainty was the worst part of it. They weren’t just assistants anymore; Tara and Ember were an essential part of your business now. The thought of finding someone else to fit into your carefully built world felt exhausting if they took this upcoming conversation the wrong way.

“I don’t know if they’re going to take it well…” you trailed off, not wanting to open the car door and go inside.

Trent leaned over and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. His fingers brushed against your arm as he spoke softly. “You’re overthinking it baby,” he said. “It’s just to protect yourself and what’s yours.”

You nodded, but the thought of Tara breaking into tears or Ember giving you the cold shoulder made the knot in your stomach tighten. You were supposed to be teaching them how to make batches of Rêveur today, but the little folder in your lap could completely derail your plans for the day. With a sigh, you stared at the Les Notes d’Amour gold lettered sign through the car’s window before stepping out of the car, gripping the folder tightly against your chest. Trent followed a few steps behind you, giving you the space you needed to handle things on your own. When you walked toward the store, you could hear the faint sound of humming coming from inside. The sound of Tara’s bubbly energy already made you feel like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. It really wasn’t that all that deep, but in your mind it felt like the world was about to crumble beneath you.

The door jingled as you stepped inside and Tara stood at the counter, arranging a set of fragrances into neat rows, her glasses slipped down her nose slightly from the concentration. She glanced up when she heard the door and her face lit up with her usual bouncy enthusiasm. 

“Oh! Hi, Y/N! Morning, Trent!” she chirped. “You’re early today!”

Ember was across the room, sorting through email requests for custom fragrances. She glanced over briefly, nodding in acknowledgement. “Morning” she said in her usual direct tone before returning back to her task.

Trent nudged your shoulder gently before wandering toward your workstation. He picked up a few of your scent vials and held them to the light, inspecting them like they were a puzzle he was trying to solve. He opened one and gave it a sniff, frowning curiously as if he was mentally cataloguing the notes of each vial. A boutique filled with delicate glass and the constant hum of creativity wasn’t his world, but somehow he fit in perfectly. It comforted you, even if the pressure of the conversation ahead felt heavier than ever.

“Tara. Ember..” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly as you gestured toward your office in the back. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

Tara immediately froze with her hands hovering over a glass bottle. “Oh.. yeah, of course! Is everything okay?” Her voice was chipper, but you could sense the nervousness creeping into her tone. Ember pushed back her chair and stood up with her usual composure. “Sure,” she said simply, but her gaze flicked between you and the folder in your hands before she followed Tara to the back. You caught Trent’s eye as you passed him and he gave you an encouraging smile.

“You got this baby” he mouthed before turning his attention back to the vials.

The air felt suffocating as the three of you settled into your office. Tara sat down immediately and folded her hands nervously in her lap, while Ember leaned into her chair with her arms crossed. She had an unreadable, but not unfriendly expression. You set the folder down on the desk and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say while both girls stared back at you.

“Sooo. Umm..” you began in a shaky voice. Your hands were clenched together in your lap as you tried to will yourself to stay calm. “First off..I just wanted to say how much I appreciate both of you and everything you do. Both of you are an important part of this place. I mean that.”

Tara smiled nervously and Ember tilted her head, studying you like she was waiting for you to get to the point. 

“But..” you continued in a hesitant voice. “Something happened recently. There’s been some information about me that’s been leaked online these last couple of months. Nothing huge..but enough to make me feel like I should probably set some boundaries..okay?”

Tara’s nervous smile disappeared as she fidgeted with the bottom hem of her top. “I– I swear I didn’t mean for anything to happen.” she stammered in a trembling voice. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time! I never wanted to hurt you or anything. I’m so sorry.”

Ember glanced at the folder in front of you, curiously. “What kind of boundaries are we talking about?” she asked in a calm but direct tone.

You opened the folder and slid two copies of the NDAs across the smooth surface of the desk. “It’s not about anything specific, really” you said, trying to sound as neutral as you could be, even if you were kind of lying.

“It’s more about making sure everything that happens here stays here. I just need to know we’re all on the same page and that anything you hear or see working here doesn’t leave these walls.”

Tara’s eyes darted to the papers in front of her and then back at you. “Oh my god. This is because you’re pregnant isn’t it?” she blurted out. “I only mentioned it in my group chat! One of my friends messaged SpillTheBeans after I said not to. I really didn’t mean for it to –”

“Tara I’m not pregnant” you cut her off with an awkward laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. “The only baby I have is this place. Which is why I need you to sign this paper.” You pulled out a pen, tapping the ballpoint against the signature line. “Just sign here and we’ll be good.”

Tara’s eyes went wide as she bolted upright in the chair. “Oh my god, I thought I was getting fired!” she blurted out, clutching her chest like the words were exhausting her. “I’ve been waiting for it to happen for days. I even texted my mum and asked her if I could move back in…she said no, by the way!”

Her rambling spilled out so fast you could hardly keep up. Even Ember gave her a side eye.

“What? I’m not…no. You’re not fired Tara” you reassured, trying to keep your tone calm despite her dramatics. “It’s not that serious. We can just move forward from it, okay? Just don’t let it happen again.”

Tara reached for the pen so fast she almost knocked it off the desk. “Yeah, sure! I’ll sign whatever you want girl!” she exclaimed while scribbling her name on the line. “You could tell me you’re actually secretly dating Jude Bellingham right now and I’d take it to my grave.”

“Um, no. That’s definitely not happening” you replied, trying not to laugh at the thought of you dating Jude in some twisted alternate reality. 

Ember leaned forward next when Tara handed her the pen but her movements were slower. She picked up the pen and twirled it between her fingers to read through the paperwork before signing her name. “Yup. Seems fair” she replied plainly, sliding the paper back toward you. When you reached to pick it up, Ember’s phone vibrated against the desk surface. She snatched the phone quickly, trying to silence the buzzing noise.

“Sorry. Just my boyfriend making dinner plans,” she muttered before placing her phone into her pocket.

“Okay...I’m not that strict, Ember. I don’t care if you use your phone.”

Ember shrugged and brushed her fingers against her pocket to make sure her phone was tucked away. “He’s just.. really big on planning. Always wants everything figured out ahead of time.”

You smiled to try and lighten the mood. “Oh! He’s like me then? I always need to plan for everything.”

“Yeah something like that.”

Tara leaned forward to chime in eagerly. “My boyfriend is the total opposite. He’ll text and ask to grab a drink and then suddenly it’s a whole night out. Spontaneous dates are the best though!”

Tara was a yapper. You didn’t know why she was suddenly oversharing. Maybe it was to compensate for leaking rumours about you, but either way, your eyes were glazing over from her talking so much.

“Oh! Since we’re all booed up, we should do a triple date sometime!” she added, looking between you and Ember with excitement evident.

You raised your eyebrow and gave her a deadpan look that made her backpedal immediately. “Okay..okay. Too soon. Got it!”

“Very” you replied while laughing and shaking your head. “But speaking of planning things out…Trent and I are going away for a bit so I need to make sure everything’s running smoothly while I’m gone.”

“Oohh, it’s giving holiday vibes” Tara chirped with a smile. “Where are you going? Somewhere boujee like Dubai I bet. Be careful though. I heard the girlies go there to–”

“Yeah, no. Dubai’s not on the list. Definitely somewhere sunny though” you smiled back, keeping it vague because the last thing you needed was people leaking your location, even if you did just make them sign an NDA. “We just need some time to recharge for our anniversary. That’s why I’m gonna teach you how to make Rêveur today.”

Tara clapped her hands together excitedly while Ember scribbled down things in her notebook. “Finally! I’ve been dying to learn. It’ll be so fun to say I helped make Rêveur. Iconic.”

“Uh, yeah...fun. We have to get everything exactly the same every single time though. No shortcuts. If one thing goes wrong the batch will be ruined and people will notice, trust.” 

Ember glanced up from her notebook with her pen mid air. “No pressure or anything, right?” she laughed. “Is there anything specific we should know?”

“Not trying to scare you,” you began with a reassuring smile. “But the oils can burn if you’re not careful so just keep an eye on them, okay? It’ll turn the whole batch rancid and you don’t want to smell that.”

Ember moved her pen across the paper, noting everything down with focus. “What’s the safe range?”

“Maybe 70 or 80 degrees” you recited, getting into your own element. “Anything higher and it’ll burn. Anything lower and it’ll separate. Just don’t turn the heat off completely unless it gets really out of hand.”

Tara was listening with wide eyes, but she looked confused as hell. “Wait..do we just..guess if it’s too hot or not? This is exactly why I switched my major to public relations. I’m more of a vibe person.”

“That...definitely explains a lot honestly” you joked. She cringed, catching your shade about the leaks. “Just follow Ember’s lead. She seems like she’ll be good at this.”

Just as you led them to the other room to start, Trent casually strolled in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips to which Tara let out a dramatic ‘aww’.

“So cute,” she cooed.

Trent leaned in close to your ear, whispering. “Fancy a train ride after this?” He pulled out his phone, showing the date at the top of his home screen, which featured a photo of your smiling face. 

“Maybe” you dragged the word out, trying to push him away from you because he was starting to distract you. “Go stand over there T. Every time you distract me I mess something up. Move.”

��Damn” Trent drawled, stepping back with a grin with his hands up in defeat. “Didn’t know I was a hazard.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back, refocusing your attention on the task before you. “Okay!” you said, clasping your hands together while looking at Tara and Ember, who were now watching you closely. “Starting with the base note blend…”

Both girls nodded as you continued to speak. Ember jotted something down in her notebook and Tara leaned in, determined to follow along closely and learn despite her initial confusion earlier. You grabbed the first vial and smiled to yourself.

After this, I can really relax. Seriously this time.

The lesson went a lot smoother than you expected. Ember was quick to learn and caught on easily. Tara was a little slower but seemed to be enjoying herself and asking questions to make sure she understood correctly. You had original apprehension, but everything felt like it was under control this time. Once everything was cleaned up and instructions were finalized, you dismissed your assistants for the day. Tara waved with enthusiasm and promised to remember everything she learned. Ember gave you a quick nod and smile before heading out as she typed away on her phone and disappeared through the door.

An hour later, you and Trent pulled up to an area that looked nothing like Lime Street.

“T…I thought you said we were going on the train?” you asked inquisitively. “This is just a building. I’m confused.”

Trent looked smug as he parked the car. “I said train ride, yeah? I didn’t say where or how.”

You gave him a side eye while unbuckling your seatbelt. “Nuh uh. This feels like a set up. What are you up to?”

Trent laughed as he got out of the car and jogged around to open the door on the passenger’s side. He extended his hand out to help you. “Baby relax. You’re gonna love it.”

You took his hand and creased your brows while narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not convinced. This looks like a place where someone would pull off a heist or something.”

“Nah. Nothing like that,” he reaffirmed while leading you to the building with your hands intertwined in his.

The moment you stepped inside, your skepticism turned into curiosity. The space was dimly lit and the faint sound of train wheels clicking on tracks played in the background. You adjusted your eyes and took in the sight of a perfectly crafted train interior that somewhat mimicked the train you took the day you ran into Trent for the first time.

Your jaw dropped. “No way…”

Trent squeezed your side, pleased with your reaction. “It’s an escape room.”

You spun your face at him, confused all over again. “An escape room? What does that have to do with–?”

“Look closer” he said, gesturing to a seat where a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses were carefully placed. “Ring any bells?”

The realization hit you like a freight train. “No. You didn’t…”

“I did,” his grin widened. “I figured it would be more fun than just taking the train again. Thought we could relive the day with a little twist, y’know?”

You looked around the room, your heart swelling with affection. “You had them recreate our meet cute? This is…”

“Romantic?” he finished your sentence smugly, proud of his accomplishment. 

“Cheesy as hell” you corrected him, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “But I love it.”

“Thought you might” he said, tugging you toward the seat with the hoodie. “Let’s see if we’re smart enough to get out of here.”

The first clue was tucked into the hoodie pocket. It looked like the same hoodie Trent wore the day you met him. A slip of paper read: 

What starts with the sun but ends with the moon?

You groaned, holding it up for him to see. “Okay..what does that even mean? The sky?”

Trent smirked and leaned against the seat like he knew the answer, but didn’t want to give it to you just yet. “Nah baby. Just think about it.”

You glanced back at the clue, still confused. “Um, I am thinking about it..I really don’t know. A sunset? Time?” You threw out ideas, suddenly remembering the cheeky comment you made about his hoodie and sunglasses that day. “Wait..is it an eclipse thing?”

“Close. Think simpler.”

Your mind churned before it finally clicked for you. “A day!” you blurted out. “Starts with the sun and ends with the moon.”

Trent nodded, grinning as he reached into a luggage rack to pull out an envelope. “I knew you would get it eventually.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand, rolling your eyes. The second clue had a small calendar drawn on it with a single number circled – 22. The day you first met. 

“Okay. Too predictable Trent..”

“Is it?” he asked. “Could just be the start of a combo…”

The two of you scanned the fake train car, piecing together the rest of the lock combination from the small details that were hidden throughout the room. There were train tickets tucked into a seat pocket, coordinates of London and Liverpool printed on a travel map, and a tiny key taped underneath a windowsill. After solving each clue, you ended up with 2206 as the final code.

“2206. What’s the 6 from?” you wondered out loud.

Trent smiled as he punched the code into the lock box near the door. “That’s the platform the train left from. London to Liverpool..platform six.”

Your jaw dropped again as the lock box opened. “How do you know that? You didn’t even get on at that stop.”

Trent shrugged and pulled you into a quick kiss. “That day is burned into my brain forever. Had to do my research.”

You shook your head and ran your fingers along his jawline lightly before opening the next compartment. “You really went all out for this. Kinda scared of what you have planned for our official anniversary.”

Inside the compartment was a miniature bottle of a fragrance. “Musk” you said, sniffing the vial thoughtfully. “This was in the escape room? T, did you take this from–”

“Nah, I had nothing to do with that one.” he interrupted, holding his hands up. “Just the universe messing with us again.” He took the bottle out of your hand and sniffed it. “Maybe we could add it as one of the last ingredients? And make it unisex so anyone can wear it..”

His suggestion made you smile while you watched him analyze the scent in a similar way he did with bergamot that fateful day on the train. “That’s...actually not a bad idea. But we need one more to balance it all out.” You didn’t have your notebook with you, so you quickly pulled out your phone to type it into your notes app. You reached for Trent’s hand to intertwine it with yours to pull him along to the next clue. “I can’t believe you had them do all of this for us..”

As you turned the corner, the scene shifted to a football themed section. There was a goalpost, a whiteboard, and lockers lining the wall. Trent’s eyes lit up instantly and you knew you lost him to his competitive side.

“Aight” he began, cracking his knuckles and stepping forward. “My time to shine.”

You stifled a laugh. “Baby you’re not on the pitch. It’s just an escape room.”

Trent smiled as he took in the sight of the room. “Doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna win.”

Amused by his determination, you egged him on. “Okay vice captain. Lead the way.”

The football themed section had Trent written all over it. The lockers were labelled with Liverpool legends like Gerrard and Dalglish. On the whiteboard, a series of Xs and Os formed a tactical setup with a question written above it:

What year did Liverpool win their first European Cup?

Trent snorted and crossed his arms, like the question was something ingrained in his memory. “Easy. 1977. Rome. Borussia Mönchengladbach.”

The board beeped as a hidden compartment clicked open and revealed a small key. You scoffed at him in disbelief. “How do you know that? You weren’t even born yet.”

“History baby,” he replied. “Can’t wear the badge without knowing where it came from.”

You handed him the small key, shaking your head. “Nerd.”

“Maybe. But I’m a nerd who just unlocked the next step.”

Trent slid the key into a lock on the side of a locker and the door swung open to reveal a small podium holding a mini golden football. Another note was propped up beside it that read:

Score a goal, but don’t forget to hit the crossbar first.

“Oh here we fucking go” you muttered. “They’re really feeding into your ego now.”

Trent grinned as he pulled you in for a kiss. “You could be supportive like a normal girlfriend…”

You laughed and cupped your hands around your mouth to slip into your best commentator impression, mocking him with your support. “The man with the golden touch..stepping up to the challenge of a lifetime.”

“Keep it up and I’ll miss on purpose.” he teased, setting up the ball.

“You won’t” you shot back. “I’ll boo you…”

Trent lined up his shot and took a few steps back. The ball sailed into the air and struck the crossbar with the only type of ease your boyfriend could accomplish.

“WOW WHAT A HIT!” you yelled, jumping up and down like you were in the Kop. “Alexander-Arnold with a stunning strike!”

Trent turned, grinning ear to ear as he pointed at you. “You’re not bad at that…but it’s not good either. Gotta work on the commentator voice.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and moved over to the makeshift goalpost. “Okay. Let’s try this then. I’m the keeper now.”

Trent gave you a curious look, wondering if you were serious, but when you didn’t move, his look turned into amusement. “You gonna try to stop me? Alright. No mercy baby.”

You clapped your hands and bounced on your toes like you saw keepers do on match days. “I’m channelling my inner Alisson Becker. You’re not getting past me T.”

Trent set the ball down again and shook his head at your antics, but he was enjoying every second judging by the smile that hadn't faltered from his face. He took a few steps back, focused and ready while you spread your arms dramatically across the goal.

“And it’s Y/N L/N in goal!” you yelled in your best – yet below average, commentator voice. “Can she keep Trent Alexander-Arnold from clinching the game?”

“Not a chance,” Trent whispered under his breath, smirking. You really thought he would take it easy on you but he didn’t. He didn’t have to try too hard and the ball flew into the net easily. You lunged for it, trying to make the save, but your foot did something weird, making you tumble to the floor and land on your side, groaning. Trent jogged over, trying and failing not to laugh as he crouched beside you.

“You okay baby?”

You rolled onto your back, squinting up at him while rubbing your hip. “Fuck. How does Ali do this? He makes it look so easy.”

Trent reached out a hand to lift you to your feet. “You have the heart for it..I’ll give you that.”

You took his hand to let him pull you up as you brushed yourself off. “Next time I’m saving it.”

“Next time, huh?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. “We’ll see. It’s game over for now, though.”

The final compartment snapped open with a thud, revealing a small envelope. Trent grabbed it, beaming as he opened it up. Inside was a handwritten note:

Congratulations on finding your way out! Here’s to your next adventure together.

Alongside the note were dinner reservations on the date of your official anniversary. You weren’t familiar with the restaurant, but the name sounded familiar – Lovebirds. Next to it, an itinerary to go to St. Barts, featuring photos of a private villa with direct beach access.

You blinked at the papers in Trent’s hand, struggling to process the details. “Wait..what is this?”

He turned the envelope toward you so that you could see it better. “Dinner plans for our anniversary. And St. Barts.” he confessed with a smile, still not faltering. “Private villa, just you and me. Direct beach access and no distractions.”

“You planned all of this?”

Trent laughed and folded the papers to tuck them back into the envelope. “Well I had some help, but yeah. Thought we deserved something special.”

You threw your arms around him and gave him a kiss. “I don't even know what to say. You’re too sweet.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmured into your hair. “Just show up in your bikini.”

You laughed, pulling back to look at his face. “I love you..and I’m really glad you sat next to me on the train that day.”

Trent’s eyes softened as he played with the necklace around your neck. “Same here. I can’t imagine living life without you baby. I love you too.”

The two of you made your way back to the car, hand in hand as the sun started to set over the horizon to create a cotton candy sky. “What's next?” you asked.

“Let’s go eat and figure out where the night takes us?” He recommended. “Unless you wanna make another perfume note in the car..”

You burst out laughing and swatted at his chest. “You’re such a boy.”

---

The next few weeks passed by way too fast, but they were filled with happy milestones. When Ezzie and Ziggy’s 16th birthday rolled around, it was celebrated with Trent’s family instead of your parents. His mum and dad took over hosting duties and transformed their home into a comfortable space that was overflowing with kind heartedness and laughter. Celebrating with them felt more natural than it ever did in the cold confines of your parent’s picture perfect home. Trent’s parents took your siblings in without any hesitation, and treated them like they were their own children.

The day of their birthday kicked off with Ziggy’s signing day. He officially joined Liverpool’s U18 team. The dimpled grin on his face was infectious as he showed off his new kit. The back of his shirt proudly displayed “L/N” in bold lettering and the number he chose: 16. You assumed he chose it because he signed on the day of his birthday, but you really didn’t know for sure.

“Sixteen huh?” you mocked as he spun around in the room to make sure everyone could see. “Let me guess...some deep meaningful choice about this being your year or something?”

Ziggy was enjoying the attention and smirked. “Nah, not everything has to be deep. I just like the number.”

“He’s lying!” Ezzie interrupted. “It’s because Trent wears 66. He just changed one number.”

Ziggy glared at her and flung the kit to lay on his shoulder. “Damn. Just let me have this.”

“Bubby..” Ezzie said sweetly, tilting her head as she used a childhood nickname that always wound him up. “You can have it. Just not without me calling you out first.”

Before your brother could retort, Dianne’s voice floated in from the living room. “You two..let’s save the bickering for later. We’re celebrating, remember?”

Trent’s dad popped his head into the kitchen, tongs in hand. “Z, you think you have what it takes to make first team one day? Come outside, let’s see if you can get past me.”

“You? You’re too old.. I don’t wanna embarrass you at your own house.” Ziggy scoffed, heading toward the garden in disbelief. “You’re not even the best defender in this house right now.”

“That would be me,” Trent chimed in, leaning against the fridge while smiling.

“Nah, it’s me.” Tyler cut in, walking in the room with Marcel trailing behind him. “I’d be out there instead if I didn’t give it up for you.”

Marcel snorted. “Bro you haven’t defended anything since I was a baby.” 

You stood next to the counter, slicing a piece of cake. “A family full of stars here, huh? Football, fashion...and whatever Tyler is claiming these days.”

“Aye” Tyler interjected. “I’m a dad. And I work.”

“Do you? Because the girlies are saying PLG is a money laundering scheme” you raised your brow, genuinely asking and not trying to throw shade...or maybe you were throwing shade.

The whole house burst into laughter, Marcel’s being the loudest of all despite not doing much more than Tyler. You took a bite of the white chocolate raspberry birthday cake, savouring the sweet flavour while everyone scattered around the house to do their own thing. Your anxiety still existed, but seemingly melted away once you were surrounded by the people you cared about the most. You took another bite of cake, surveying the warmth and love filling the house.

I could get used to this. This is nice.

The days following the twins birthday were a blur of activity. Ezzie’s modelling career was in full swing, and her first campaign with Miu Miu took off. Your sister’s face now adorned billboards and screens in New York, Paris and London. She was kind of iconic for someone who had just turned 16, and you were living for it. Your mum had definitely ate her words, rightfully so. 

Meanwhile, Camille was splitting her time between Manchester, Paris, and Barcelona. Her relationship with Jules grew stronger with every passing day and the two of them were officially the most fashionable couple you knew. Camille’s voice hummed through the phone one day as you shuffled around your newly expanded wardrobe in you and Trent’s home. You were partially listening while you went through your clean laundry, trying to place everything in their new spot.

“I think Jules might be my soulmate” she gushed with her voice tinged with dreaminess that was very out of character for her. “I’ve been planning out outfits for the next month and he just gets it Y/N. He even coordinates with me sometimes. Who is this man?”

You froze mid fold, barely believing your ears. “Camille? Camille Saint-Clair??” you said slowly, dragging out her first name and surname for emphasis. “Is this my best friend? Soulmates and coordinating outfits with a man is crazy.”

She groaned but the dreaminess in her voice was still unmistakable, the girl was in love. “Shut up. I just– I may be falling for him a little. But I’m still me.”

“Anyway,” she added, trying to switch the subject back to you. “What about you and your lover boy? Where are you two going for your anniversary?”

You filled her in on Trent’s surprise escape room debacle and the upcoming trip to St. Barts, to which she simply responded:

“Don’t get pregnant. Use your butt..or mouth. Seriously. There’s an epidemic out here and the world doesn’t need anymore Aquariuses or Pisces.”

You giggled and shook your head. “Isn’t your dad a–” “Yeah, he is.. so trust me when I say that. Use your butt girl.”

Before you could fully recover from Camille’s out of pocket advice after ending the call, Trent walked into the bedroom shirtless with a towel slung over his shoulder from just getting out of the shower.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, stretching his arm behind his head as he sprawled out on the bed. 

You made your way to the bed and sat on top of him. “Camille,” you smirked, grazing your hands over his toned abdominal muscles. “She gave me some interesting advice for our anniversary.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Nooo” you sang, leaning over to kiss him. “I think we’ll have enough time for me to use all three holes.”

“Three holes? Huh??”

Before you could explain, Trent’s phone rang with a FaceTime call. You glanced at the screen to see Jude’s name flashing across the screen. You groaned and picked up the phone to answer, turning the phone toward Trent’s face, but Jude started talking before either of you could speak.

“Aye! What’s good bro? What are you up to?” Jude’s smile filled the screen.

“Just chilling,” Trent replied, sitting up slightly with his hand palming over your thigh, gently massaging your soft skin. “Why? What’s up?”

“Mate, I’m scheming. Me, Jobe, Toby – lad’s night out at the club. You down?” Jude waggled his eyebrows for emphasis, already sold on his own plan.

Trent shook his head. “Nah. Not tonight man.”

“Bro come on,” Jude groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance. “It’s been ages. Don’t do me like this. I’ll keep the girls away so Y/N won’t get mad.”

You cut in with a pointed tone. “Jude..he’s not going anywhere tonight.”

Jude squinted at the camera, trying to figure out where your voice was coming from, but he didn’t realize you were the one holding the phone until you turned the phone back to your face. “Y/N don’t tell me you’re one of those girls. He’s a grown man..let him have some fun.”

“Jude it’s the night before our anniversary” you noted firmly. “Fun doesn’t include babysitting you lot.”

“Babysitting? I’m not a child” Jude protested. “Well..maybe Jobe is but I’m capable of looking after myself.”

“The child in question can drive and cook..you can’t.” you quipped, turning the phone back to Trent. “Tell him, T.”

Trent laughed and shook his head. “Sorry man. Boss has spoken. You understand.”

Jude sighed dramatically, acting like somebody had just broken his heart into a thousand pieces. “Fine, ditch us for Y/N. But don’t come complaining when you realize what you’re missing. Proper memories being made without you, for sure!”

Trent smirked, raising his hands higher on your thigh which made you erupt into a fit of giggles. “I’m good with the memories I’m about to make. Next time though.”

“Ah, fair. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Happy anniversary by the way!”

At Les Notes d’Amour, things had fallen into a pleasant rhythm that you were comfortable with. Ember and Tara managed to keep the Rêveur production on track without any hiccups. There were no other unexpected leaks, no missed steps, and no drama – just the way you liked it. There were a couple of moments when Tara’s bubbly personality led her into long tangents about footballers or her latest obsession with matcha boba. You occasionally had to step in with a gentle “Tara.. focus,” but overall, the shop felt stable in their hands. 

With your anniversary creeping closer, you found yourself balancing preparations for your trip to St. Barts and figuring out how to celebrate with Trent before your flight. You hadn’t given him the watch yet, saving it for the perfect moment. 

But today was the day.

You stood in front of the mirror that night, adjusting your dress. As you zipped it up halfway, you heard Trent’s footsteps behind you.

“Need a hand?” he asked in a low voice.

You turned a little to look at him through the mirror. A flashback of him fucking you while you watched in the mirror flashed across your mind. “Are you offering to help or to undo it? Because last time you said you were going to help…”

“Both” he replied instantly, stepping behind you to slide the zipper the rest of the way up. His broad hands caressed your sides and he scanned your figure in the mirror. “We’ll just save the other part for later. Or we can have a quickie…”

The warmth from Trent’s breath tickled against your neck as his hands lingered on your waist to pull you flush against him. The smell of Rêveur and your perfume wrapped around you to create the most perfect, intoxicating scent that paired amazingly well together. His eyes met yours in the mirror and darkened, filled with a mixture of love and carnal desire.

“Don’t” you warned, swatting his hand playfully. “We have all night and next week for that.”

“I’m just appreciating the beautiful view” he said smoothly, running his hands up and down your sides. He leaned in closer to the crook of your neck, inhaling softly. “You smell so good. What did you decide to name this one?”

You smiled and adjusted the petaled drapes falling across your shoulders. “It’s called Vanille Étoilée.” You caught his gaze in the mirror and continued. “It means starry vanilla in French. Sweet like honeyed vanilla, warm like amber, but soft enough to stay on my skin for a long time like the stars in the sky. Thought it was fitting because it compliments Rêveur pretty well..”

“Vanille Étoilée” he repeated. Surprisingly the French words rolled off his tongue with ease despite his scouser accent. “I like it.” Trent dipped his head down to kiss the corner of your jaw and trailed the kisses down to your collarbone. “Smells…” He paused and placed another kiss on your skin while inhaling you again, “so fucking good.”

You turned around to press a hand to his chest and stepped back. “Okay..enough. You can’t just jump straight to dessert. Have some decorum.”

Stepping into Lovebirds felt like stepping into an ethereal fairytale. The outside world was replaced with an atmosphere that was enchanting. Golden lighting pranced off lush greenery that framed the private alcoves scattered throughout the room. Each one was designed to give diners a sense of secluded romance. There were ornamental branches stretched above with interwoven leaves and lights to give the ceiling a romantic glow. You could hear a subtle twine of acoustics playing a gentle tune to add to the ambiance.

Trent’s hand rested on the curve of your back and his fingers grazed the exposed skin. “This place is nice” he murmured in a whispered tone as his gaze shifted from one part of the room to another.

“Yeah, it is. The name is really fitting innit?” you replied, glancing up at him with a smile. The place truly did feel like it was designed with soulmates in mind. There were multiple details that echoed the love and connection shared between lifelong partners. You followed the host as they led you to a table nestled beside a trickling indoor fountain. 

The table may as well have been a piece of art itself. There was a delicate feather motif that ran along its edges and two menus were placed neatly on top of silky soft cloth. Both menus were embossed in gold lettering with your names, which caught you by surprise. Trent definitely had used up all his creativity with the escape room idea, so there was no way in hell he had any part in the decor for the table. But if it wasn’t him..who did?

The waiter approached minutes later with a carefully balanced tray of artfully crafted drinks.

“Good evening” he began with a warm smile. “To start, we have two cocktails inspired by our esteemed guests.” He set a golden hued drink in front of Trent first.

“This is the Golden Hour. It has a blend of whiskey, ginger beer, and a touch of citrus, topped with golden edible flakes. It’s got strength and finesse, much like Mr. Alexander-Arnold’s touch on the pitch.”

Trent tilted his head, amused and curious as he lifted the drink to inspect it. “Golden Hour?” he mused, swirling the drink slightly to watch the edible flakes diffuse across the liquid. “Can’t argue with that.”

“And for you” the waiter continued, placing a glass in front of you. “We have the Moonlit Muse. It’s a delicate mix of lychee, vanilla vodka, and champagne served with an iridescent shimmer. Sweet and complex, inspired by your work and artistry as a perfumer.”

You took a sip, feeling the sweetness of the lychee and fizziness of the champagne intertwine to create a perfect start to the evening. “This is incredible” you complimented with a smile. “Thank you!”

The food was just as impressive. Trent opted for a ribeye steak that was charred to perfection and served with truffle butter, garlic mashed potatoes, and seared shrimp. Your dish was a salmon fillet plated with saffron and champagne cream sauce that rested on a bed of wilted spinach and buttered baby carrots. There was a garnish of edible flowers on the plate, making it almost too pretty to eat. 

The chef approached your table shortly after you both finished eating. She was dressed in a cleanly pressed chef’s coat with her name embroidered elegantly on the chest. She clasped her hands in front of her.

“I hope the evening has been everything you hoped for lovebirds” she cheered in a joyful tone.

You blinked, staring at her for a minute before you realized she was the same chef from the private cooking class you had with Trent the day you made things official. “Wait..you’re the chef from the class we took last year!”

Her smile widened and she nodded. “Yes, that’s me. I didn’t think you would remember.”

“Of course I remember!” you exclaimed, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you. “We nearly burned down your kitchen with our nonsense.”

“Best date we ever had so far. Hands down.” Trent added, smiling back at the chef.

“I can’t thank you two enough” The chef spoke proudly. “The night the video went viral I started getting all sorts of requests for catering, private events, cooking classes and it just snowballed from there. When this space became available.. I couldn't resist it.”

“Wow” you breathed, glancing around at the beautifully curated space with new appreciation. “That’s really amazing. This place is stunning.”

“Thank you” she responded sincerely. “I owe you two more than you know. That night wasn’t just a turning point professionally. It reminded me of why I love what I do. Seeing the joy on your faces that night..even covered in flour, was a reminder of what food can bring to people. I just wanted to say thank you..for everything.”

The waiter appeared again, carrying two perfectly risen soufflés. The delicate tops were dusted with powdered sugar and you could smell the faint aroma of chocolate wafting through the air. The chef grinned as she set the desserts in front of you. After taking a quick photo with the chef, you could finally dig into your soufflés.

“Enjoy lovebirds! Happy anniversary!” the chef cheered, holding a hand over her heart dramatically as she walked away to head back to the kitchen.

You scooped your spoon into the airy dessert. “Mmm, finally! This was so worth it. Best soufflé ever.”

Trent nodded in agreement, savouring his first bite. “Third time’s the charm, huh?”

After finishing dessert, you turned to Trent with a sly smile and reached into your clutch to pull out a carefully wrapped box. You slid the box across the table toward him. “This is for you..”

Trent’s curiosity piqued as he grabbed the box and unopened it with care to reveal the watch with the midnight blue dial and moon phase indicator. “Damn. This is nice!” he excitedly yelled out while clasping the watch onto his wrist. “What’s this thing on here?”

“It’s a moon phase indicator. So you don’t have to google when the full moons are anymore.”

Trent looked up at you, his brown eyes filled with adoration. “Not gonna lie. This might be the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

You rolled your eyes, assuming he was doing too much over a silly little watch, even if it was expensive. “T..it’s just a watch. I don’t think–”

“Nah. Not just a watch” he corrected you, calibrating the moon phase indicator with his hand. “I feel like I’m always buying gifts for everyone else..so this is nice. I love it. I love you.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile and stop the happy tears that were threatening to spill over your lash line. “Aww baby. Don’t make me cry in public. I love you too.”

Trent leaned over to give you a tender, soft kiss on your lips before pulling back, both of you smiling like idiots at each other. You giggled awkwardly and looked around.

“Sooo..um..where’s my gift?” you questioned him jokingly. “Not that this dinner wasn’t amazing but..”

Trent smirked and leaned back in his chair. “It’s at home. It’s being set up as we speak.”

After another hour of conversation, you finally headed back home to see what Trent had planned. When you made it back to the house, you hopped out of the car before Trent could even put it in park mode.

“Close your eyes,” Trent instructed you as you made your way into the house. You closed your eyelids while he led you up the stairs. “Don’t look yet.”

“I’m not looking!” you yelled, but you were willing your pupils to see through the thin skin of your eyelids.

“Alright, ready?” Trent spoke softly into your ear and positioned you in front of the bedroom door.

“Yes..” you replied impatiently, itching to open the door yourself. “Can I look?”

Trent nodded but he forgot your eyes were still closed, so you both stood there awkwardly for a minute before you spoke up again. “Umm..Trent??”

“Oh shit! I forgot.” He laughed, opening the door. “Yeah, open your eyes baby.”

When you opened your eyes, your breath caught. The bedroom was decorated with balloons that hovered near the elevated ceiling. Illuminated candles softly flickered and danced across the wall to cast shadows that felt alive, like they were celebrating along with you. The bedside table had a rose bouquet that was so large it was almost falling over. On the bed, a collection of gifts were neatly arranged in wrapping paper of your favorite colors, topped with curled and tied ribbons.

Your hand flew to your mouth and your eyes filled with tears. “Trent…”

He leaned into you to kiss you on your cheek. “Happy anniversary baby.”

As the scene washed over you, you traced your fingers over the silk ribbons on the gifts. “I only got you a watch and you did all of this? T this is way too much..”

“Nah, it’s not. Just showing how much I appreciate you.”

Smiling, you sat down on the edge of the bed and grazed your fingers over a smaller box that was tucked behind the others. “What’s this one?” you asked, reaching for it.

Before you could lift the lid, Trent’s hand shot out and snatched the box away from you with a quickness that caught you off guard and made you frown. “Nah! Not that one. You can’t open that yet.”

This box in particular was the engagement ring he was keeping hidden away for another year or two. Whoever was responsible for the setup must’ve accidentally mistaken it for an anniversary gift, nearly ruining the night all together.

You creased your brow and stood on your tippy toes to reach it. “Why not? What’s in it? Let me see!”

“Nope” he laughed as he moved it further out of your reach and nestled it into a drawer. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

“What surprise?” you questioned him, trying to reach toward the drawer without him realizing, but he was faster than you. He gripped your hand mid air and pulled you into him. You instinctively put your arms around his shoulders and his lips found yours to silence anymore of your protests. You pulled away from him, grinning as you bit your bottom lip. “You’re trying to distract me from that box…”

His face nestled into the crook of your neck and he nibbled on the skin above your collarbone. “Is it working?” 

Your hum of approval melted into a soft sigh as Trent’s lips continued to brush against the delicate curve of your neck. With each kiss, he trailed down slower to map out coordinates of love. His hands trailed up from your hips to the bare curve of your back under the silky fabric of your dress. He thumbs padded massaging circles on your skin that made it hard to think about anything other than the feeling of him against you.

“Maybe…” you mumbled in a quiet voice.

“Good” Trent continued peppering you with kisses. “Let me finish distracting you then.”

Trent’s hands traced over the zipper of your dress, slowly unzipping it until the silky fabric was tossed to the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful” he muffled against your skin, brushing over the laced trim on your panties.

“You’re talking too much” you whined, arching into him to silently beg for more than what he was giving you at the moment.

“Yeah?” His fingers hooked under the lace trim, pulling them down to reveal your slick core. “You want more?”

You nodded, “Please.”

Trent kissed his way down your stomach, nibbling on your skin with his hungry lips. When he finally reached your pussy, he paused, glancing up at you with a cocky look while licking his lips. 

“Trent” you panted, gripping the sheets as his breath fanned over where you really wanted him. “Don’t tease me. I need you..”

“Ah..so impatient” he smirked, kissing your inner thigh. He flicked his tongue out, licking a stripe between your pussy that made your back arch off the bed. “Let me hear you baby.”

“Shit” you gasped, gripping his head with your hands as his tongue started working against your clit in a slow, intentional pace that had you squirming and arching underneath him.

“Stay still” he commanded, gripping your thighs to pin you in place. You tried to comply, but you couldn’t stop trying to push your hips against him to chase your high. 

The flicks of his tongue and pressure from him lightly suctioning your clit made you moan his name loudly and buck into him. Just as you were about to reach the point of no return, Trent’s phone rang loudly on the bedside table, cutting through your bliss immediately.

“Fuck me” you groaned, pulling a pillow against your face in frustration.

“We’re getting to that part…” he joked, already pulling back from your core to glance at the screen. “It’s Jude.”

“I really don’t care who it is,” you snapped, pulling at his arm to bring his attention back to you and the orgasm you desperately needed. “Do. Not. Answer.”

He pondered for a second like he was torn, but then the phone started ringing again and you could see the gears turning in his head. “I’ll just tell him I’m busy real quick.”

“Trent,” you warned in a dangerously low voice. “I swear if you answer that fucking phone right now…”

“Alright! I’m not answering it” He declined the call, tossing the phone aside. “Happy now?”

“Ask me again after you make me c– oh my god, yesss” your words quickly turned into moans of pleasure as he dove back in, tongue on your clit and fingers curling and thrusting inside of you.

“You taste so fucking good” he whispered, still lapping against your clit with vigor. “Cum for me baby.”

You whimpered his name when his tongue danced against your clit faster. You felt the pressure build and snap all at once before you could warn him, but he didn’t remove himself from your clit and kept licking until you were squirming from overstimulation.

“Mmh, T..I can’t” you begged, pushing against his shoulders. When he finally rose from your core, he licked his lips and trailed kisses back up to your lips.

“You good?” he asked, kissing your neck. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me” you replied, pulling at one of his belt loops so that he would get the hint to take his clothes off. His clothing quickly joined your dress on the floor and he stroked his dick a few times before pushing into your slick folds, slow and steady so that you could adjust to the girth before he started moving.

“Goddamn” he muttered through tight teeth. “You’re so fucking tight. Relax baby.”

“I can’t” you moaned back, gasping for air in between thrusts. “F-fuck. I’m gonna cum again.”

The desperation you had for him made him laugh, stroking his ego as he stroked into you, but it quickly turned into a groan when you rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep doing that.” he stuttered, gripping your hips to guide you. “Fuck, baby. Just like that....good girl.”

The wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving in tandem filled up the room, dramatized by your breathless moans of pleasure. The tightness in your core threatened to snap and Trent’s movements became more frenzied as his fingers gripped deep into your skin.

“I love you. I love the way you fuck me” you needily moaned, trying to push him over the horizon. “Cum in me. Please Trent? Fill me up.”

“Shit” he hissed, faltering his hips for a split second to force himself to slow down. “I can’t baby. We said–”

You rocked up against him so more of his cock filled you. The way his jaw clenched in concentration and the way his body shook let you know he was fighting against the inevitable. “Pleaseee. I want it.”

“Fuckkkk” he groaned, holding you in place as he tried to gain control. He moved his hips more slow and shallow. “You’re squeezing me.”

You whimpered and raked your nails down his back as your pussy began to flutter and milk him. “Oh my god, I love you” you moaned over and over again as you came undone around his dick. He filled you up shortly after, his control shattering like glass with one last groan.

“I love you too” he muttered between a kiss attack on your lips. “You’re my everything..my forever.”

“Is that so?” you cooed, wrapping your arms around him to cherish the moment.

While you were enjoying your alone time with Trent, both of your phones were being bombarded with calls and notifications. The internet was set ablaze once again. A little too literally this time around:

SpillTheBeansUK 🚨 Y/N L/N, girlfriend of Liverpool star Trent Alexander-Arnold, is at the center of chaos tonight after her boutique Les Notes d’Amour burned to the ground in suspected arson. Arrested? None other than her assistant Ember F, and her EX-BOYFRIEND Aaron C – a shady ex-businessman who’s now dating Ember. 😳🔥 Coincidence? We’re not so sure… 👀

astrologychica99: omg remember when that tarot reader mentioned the tower card in the comments? THEY WERE RIGHT!!

PerfumeObsessed32: does this mean my bottle of rêveur isn’t coming?? i’ve been waiting!!!

BaddieFromBrum: not y’all worried about your rêveur order when her shop just literally burned down.. you’re so unserious

ELovesChaos: whoever’s writing her life needs to chill. give her a break i beg!

EauDeGossip: imagine finding out your ex and your assistant are plotting against you? i’d be in jail!

FragranceFanatic89: does anyone know if she’s okay? is she safe?

MadMadness: so ember went from assistant to arsonist?? girl.. seek help!!

DidUCatchIt: can we talk about the name ember? the signs were there people! 

scousergirl4lyfe: if I was Y/N i’d never trust a single soul again..like ever. not even trent

IconicAndTired: not STB becoming the BBC of mess 😭 i live for this page

WriterPlsChill: WTF?!?!

4AMTHOUGHT: end of an era 💔😭

-

What was supposed to be a peaceful and quiet night before a romantic holiday, was cut short by frantic banging on the door. Trent froze and looked around, not expecting anyone at this hour. “What the fuck?”

“Who is that?” you asked, startled by the sudden noise.

“No fucking clue. Did you order something?” he asked back, taking a quick glance over his shoulder.

“No...”

Both of you quickly sat up to get dressed in more comfortable clothing but the banging didn’t stop. While descending the stairs, muffled voices became clearer – more familiar to the ear. Trent unlocked the door cautiously, only for it to fly open with Camille and Jude barrelling in.

“Are you okay?!” Camille’s voice cracked as she reached for you, wrapping you into her arms tightly.

“Huh? I’m fine! Why are you acting so weird?” you asked with a pounding heart.

Jude’s usual playful personality wasn’t there and was replaced by a serious expression instead, like he took pity on you. “Mate..she needs to sit down” he whispered to Trent, who was looking increasingly tense.

“For what? What’s going on?”

Before Jude could answer, headlights and blue flashes from a police car flooded through the windows in an ominous pattern. 

When the uniformed officer arrived at the door, he stood solemnly in the doorway. “Is Y/N L/N here?”

Your mouth went dry. “Um..yeah. That’s me” you said softly, stepping forward despite Trent’s attempt to hold you back.

“Sorry to inform you Miss L/N..but your store was destroyed in a fire tonight. It’s been ruled as suspected arson.”

The words hit you like a bus. You weren’t able to process the sentence the officer just delivered. “My store?” you whispered, repeating as if that would make the truth hurt any less. Your knees wobbled and Trent’s arm shot out to steady you. “No…” you added, voice trembling. “That’s not possible. I was literally just there the other day.”

The officer glanced at Trent, hesitating before continuing. “I’m sorry Miss L/N. There’s no saving it. The building is completely gone.”

The moment he ended his sentence the air was knocked out from your lungs. You felt nothing. Suddenly your legs couldn’t support you anymore. You collapsed into Trent’s chest and a broken cry tore from your throat. You felt your heart shatter into sharp shards that could never be repaired or mended. “No, no, no” you repeated, clinging onto Trent to keep you tethered to reality, but his presence didn’t do much to stop the slurry of cruel, twisted dark thoughts emitting from your brain.

“Baby breathe” Trent coached in a low, shaky voice. “I got you.”

You couldn’t do that. Every breath suddenly felt like you were inhaling smoke, suffocating under the weight of words that just kept getting worse the more the officer spoke. Les Notes d’Amour – the place you poured your entire heart and soul into – was reduced to nothing more than a pile of smoky, pulverized ash. All thanks to a series of carefully crafted events that was supposed to be your ‘serendipity’.

It didn’t seem like that anymore after the officer said the names. 

“Aaron Caldwell was arrested at the scene, along with Ember Flanagan. Your other assistant, Tara, was found safe at home.”

Your body immediately went rigid. “Aaron?” you croaked, pulling away from Trent.

The officer nodded with a grim expression. “Yes ma’am. It appears he and Miss Flanagan conspired on this together.”

He wasn’t supposed to be able to get to you again, or so you thought. Camille told you she made sure of it. His name carried so much pain that you vowed to never say it again, but this whole situation caught you off guard.

“He wasn’t supposed to..” you whispered in a broken voice. “He wasn’t supposed to be able to get to me again.” You turned to Camille who was now frozen with tears in her own eyes. “Camille you promised me!”

Her face looked guilty, but she had nothing to be guilty for; it honestly wasn’t her fault.

“I didn’t know about Ember,” she stammered. “I didn’t know they were together. I’m so sorry.”

Her apology didn’t register in your ears. Nothing did. Your chest heaved up and down as the panic finally set in fully. Every bad memory, every moment of manipulation and betrayal crushing you all at once. You couldn’t see nor could you hear. All you felt were the walls of life encasing you in misery now that your dream had erupted in flames. You heard distorted voices of Jude, Camille, and Trent trying to comfort you, but their voices barely registered over the one screaming at you in your mind.

Camille crouched in front of you with tears streaming down her face. “Y/N..you’re not alone, okay? We’re here.”

Of course her words were meant to be comforting, but it only made things worse as the ache in your chest grew tighter. “I don’t care!” you screamed, yanking your hands away from hers. “None of this matters anymore! He ruined everything! This would’ve never happened if I never–”

“Baby stop” Trent’s voice was breaking now too. He pulled you into him again, whispering against your ear. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s arrested.”

You pulled away, tears streaming down your anguished face as you stared at Trent with a broken, jaded expression. “I’m not talking about Aaron” you choked out, raw and heavy.

“I’m talking about you.”

thank you for reading! please leave thoughts in my inbox 💋🤍

song inspo:

[starletcake]

Headcanon about mage Viktor and his 'origins'

I didn't really understand how viktor could be the mage from Jayces past and I didn't really get any real or satisfying answers to that from anywhere, so I thought I would spin my own little theory (or at this point you could say fanfiction) as to how this all happened, how viktor became the mage in Jayces story, what he meant by "only you could ever show me this" etcetc. I assume/determine/establish many things for my thoughtprocess to be true, I do that for my story to work and for my mind to be at peace and that it can grip an answer and not go insane about pixels because apparently i cannot act normal around media i like.

First of all, I'm gonna assume that some things are just true/meant to happen/fated in ALL timelines. For example that viktor is going to ALWAYS come into touch with the arcane and even if his path can be different each timeline his end goal is always the same - glorious evolution. I also assume that if you time travel/jump timelines and act as a seperate individual in this timeline (not like f.e. ekko replacing himself in his timeline) you are not allowed/cannot intervene too much with it because then the time/space continuum collapses or the arcane throws a fit idk.

So let's imagine a timeline, I'm gonna call it "the first timeline" (even though it doesn't really make sense in thinking of first/next/last timeline because all of the timelines are parallels, but bear with me), a timeline where viktor comes into touch with the arcane a different way, because here he doesn't even know Jayce exists (the mage which gave him the rune doesn't exist yet/in this "first" timeline). He merges with the arcane, thinks he's doing everyone a favour by initiating the glorious evolution, finishes it, creates a perfect world and everyone is happy. Except it isn't a perfect world and nobody is happy, in fact everybody is practically dead, without joy, love and choice, and Piltover/maybe even the whole world crumbles into arcane waste because of Viktors actions. He doesn't understand what went wrong, he didn't want this, he wanted everyone to have equal opportunities and end all suffering and be without sickness, be perfect. There had to be some kind of mistake here. So, with the help of the arcane, he travels to another timeline, and tries to change a few things in his story. With hindsight, this time he could steer his young self in the right direction and this time, surely it will work.

But it doesn't. So he tries again. And again. And again and again and again.

But everytime, in every timeline, with every change he made, with every different decision he made, with every different way he found the arcane, it always ended the same - the glorious evolution was a mistake. More than that, an error in his thinking of his younger self, which is the catalyst of the apocalypse.

Having seen that outcome time and time again, this "first" mage Viktor realizes that this cost for perfection is flawed, and that imperfections do have beauty in itself. So, he goes into another timeline, this time adamant to stop himself. But he fails. He just isn't able to stop his younger self, he is not able to prevent that he is coming into contact with the arcane, he is not able to change his worldview, he is not able to change anything about his goal or conviction. So, maybe someone else could? Trying and trying to introduce character after character into his life, trying to let others influence him, to no avail. How could he, anyway? How could anyone change this worldview of him? He, "first" mage Viktor needed countless of timelines and experiences to learn, that he doesn't have to be ashamed of his flaws, that he doesn't have to erase them and that imperfections are what makes them all alive. How could anyone show him, in his limited lifespan, everything he learned in a multiple factor of this time?

And this is where Jayce comes in.

Maybe, in one of the infinite timelines, the "first" mage Viktor was just as lost as Jayce on that fateful day. Maybe he was about to give up his endeavor of stopping himself becoming the villain in each and every timeline. Maybe, he began to accept that, just as he is fated to meet the arcane, he is also fated to doom the world. Then, he sees a little boy, crying over his dying mother in a snow storm. Maybe he thinks, even if i will destroy the world later, maybe I could do a good deed now, and saves the little boys mother. He gifts the little boy a rune, and goes on with his day.

And BOOM, Jayce just got introduced to the game. This little act changed the course of history entirely, suddenly there was a brilliant mind in the middle of Piltover, suddenly Jayce and Viktor meet, and suddenly, Hextech is invented. Viktor gets a partner he can trust, that he loves and admires and he gets this love and admiration and trust back. They understand each other in ways nobody else could, they share moments of intimacy and ways of love no romantic love could ever reach(thats also a reason i don't really ship Viktor and Jayce, deep love doesn't always have to be romantic in nature and there are so many other types of love that are no lesser and can be more intense(even though my gay heart yearned for them to kiss at that last scene ngl)(well this and maybe im also trying to convince myself that it doesn't always has to be romantic love that saves the world and is the most impactful and beautiful and fated etcetc(can you tell I'm aro)))

And suddenly, new hope flashes in mage Viktors eyes. It's him. He is the one. The only one. The one he was meant to meet, meant to choose so Jayce could choose Viktor again. And even though this timeline also ended in the wasteland mage Viktor saw so often already, now he knows, oh he feels that he will be the one to change it all.

So this little clip where we see mage Viktor giving little Jayce all these different runes? This is actually the end of mage Viktors journey, the last couple steps to finally find true peace, not in the form all of the Viktors always thought they will(glorious evolution), but in the form of accepting himself. And nobody else, not himself or Singed or Silco or Sky or Mel or Heimerdinger, only Jayce, only him, only you, could show me this.

(Finally, one of the runes caused Jayce to travel to another timeline where the apocalypse already has happened, and Ekko in one where he invents his timetravel device. Finally, mage Viktor can talk to Jayce and Jayce promises Viktor to stop him, forgiving him and loving him regardless. And Ekko, being the last push Jayce and Viktor needed to, being the catalyst of this even being able to happen)

I'm only writing/thinking about/posting this to satisfy my urge to understand exactly what was going on and why characters acted that way or why situations happened, to try to fill plotholes that nag my brain in a series that i absolutely love and gives me so many emotions(mostly pain, oh the misery). Idk and idc if any of that makes actual sense or fits in the lore of LoL or even the show itself, if it retconns some things or if the show itself retconns some of this theory/story, it makes sense in my head and I kinda like it, and thats what brings me peace idk how my brain works ok. (Plus it would be so cool to see some of the alternate timelines where for example viktor works with Silco and Jinx instead or smth)

[velvetvexations]

I did not mean to sleep all day. Here all the non-kink asks in my inbox lol.

Does a little dance. People being weird about transmascs on here has messed up my self perception so bad im not actually sure of my own gender anymore, yayyyyy

Fuck that anon, if you're man that rules. Being a man is awesome. You don't need anyone else's opinion to affect who you are, there is no bad gender.

just saw someone acknowledge trans men are often lumped into female spaces due to bioessentialism but then turn around and say that thats proof that trans men arent oppressed. lol.

People act like being let into the Woman Club is the one and only goal of being trans and it's so fucking annoying.

Ngl I still don't understand why femboys are a "transmisogynistic caricature that can't be reclaimed by transmascs" according to some people. Do you have any insights on this because I genuinely can't understand, femboy sounds like gnc boy culture and in my own experience, maybe transfems before they come out occasionally identify as femboys. Idk is it like, someone with an outwardly feminine appearance being a guy? Because that's why I like calling myself a femboy.

Some people think femboy started as a transfem thing because they're idiots who don't know shit.

hey if catboy is ubiquitous and having nothing to do with crossdressing why did Jerma crossdress when someone drew him as a catboy???

Because catboys are allowed to do that lol. Taking one example of a crossdressing catboy to mean catboys infringe on transfem copyright is wild.

Hi thanks for letting me vent to you cause I am at work and can't properly process my emtions otherwise rn. I've been otherwise generally in a slightly emotionally fragile place and then I just got an awful review for my first actual order from a stranger on Etsy. And like I know logically that it's not the end of the world and I gave them exactly what they ordered and it's not my fault that they measured wrong or didn't take my advice and size up a little for fit etc etc but no one else will know that and I just got started selling craft stuff and it's just a hobby and it sucks that this person clearly expected something that wasn't what they paid for (my prices are low cause it's a hobby sorry I don't have super professional materials that would make my stuff cost double) but it's really fucking me up and I am trying not to like cry at work because of this and it's so stupid. This was just my first purchase online that wasn't from a friend and I was so excited and they hated it and didn't even send a message or anything about the length (that was exactly what they asked for by the way) not fitting before leaving a review. It just fucking sucks and I wish my brain didn't react to the most minor disappointments/shows of dislike with the I'm going to kill everyone in this room and then myself meme as first response Thanks for listening. It really helps to be able to vent this somewhere <3

I'm really sorry anon, that sounds so frustrating and hard to deal with. I love you so much. <3 I know you do great work and I hope it goes better next time.

Having NPD sucks, lmao, sorry for the rant ahead. I have to remind myself that the 'mark' on shinigami eyes doesn't actually mean anything, but it's hard sometimes because it's still a stain on my reputation. :( some people will see that and take it at face value, forever associating me with the filth that is transphobia, and I can't do anything about it. I appreciate the people who actually know what a transphobe is going out of their way to remove that mark, but it's a losing battle against a bunch of buffoons who think catgirls are transmisogynistic. sometimes it's really hard to pretend that it doesn't bother me at all, because it's highly insulting for me to be associated with the things I literally fight against. What an insult to my legacy and efforts to even bother to care about other people, you know? I don't HAVE to take time out of my day to do activism, I could just not bother to care at all, but I still try. I deserve praise, not this bullshit😭

I'll praise you! Thank you for fighting against transphobia. <3

All this catboy talk. Wanted to say hi as a catboy. Meow :3

Nya~!

My prediction for TRF discourse in 2025: closeted, non passing trans men shouldn't wear skirts or other traditional women's clothing (even if they don't want to and literally have no other choice) because they're MEN and men wearing women's clothes is obviously always transmisogynistic

All trans men are transmisogynistic because they grew up mocking transfems by wearing women's clothes.

some of this discourse is just so fucking wild i cant believe this is something people are taking so seriously. sipping my tea from the sidelines as a chubby catboy therian lmao

You have a cooler head than I.

iirc the "catgirls are transfem" thing started happening around the time Ferris got popular as a character because, if I'm correct, Ferris actually is transfem (coded?) and following that some people just decided The Aesthetique belonged exclusively to transfems now (also you're so so so so based for loving Schrödinger I remember first seeing him in like 2007 and wishing I looked exactly like him)

Schrodinger is my secret fifth blorbo. I'm obsessed with him. I think about him constantly. High five.

als catboys are only white passing in the way that people love to say anime characters are white lmao (aka cant conceive of the fact that anime characters are actually light skinned Japanese). not to say anime doesn't have a colorism problem but They Are Not White and its racist to say otherwise

lol yes exactly

I might be really stepping in it here, but tangential to catboy/catgirl discourse, I'm starting to get really uncomfortable with how the cutesy moe-blob yuri is treated as "trans lesbian culture" these days? as though none of it was ever straight guy fantasy shit? as though it's ideal representation instead of another vector of impossible beauty standards? idk, maybe I'm just being way too touchy. 😬

It's fine if something becomes emblematic of transfem culture but you just can't pretend something was always transfem when it blatantly wasn't lol

you got marked red on shinigami eyes and i havev no idea why

My smoke too tough, my swag too different, my bitch too bad.

juggalo here. we don't want them.

Devastating.

For what it's worth, the "cats transforming into people" thing is probably based on the bakeneko, yeah. The "bake" in "bakeneko" means "transforming", often with the implication of transforming into people (like the better known bakedanuki and bakegitsune). The popularization of cat-people in anime probably came from Neko-Musume from Gegege no Kitaro (the anime behind the "youkai boom" in modern Japanese culture), who is a half-bakeneko.

Fascinating.

(Dif anon) "leading one to wonder what transphobia they think trans men do face" 99.999% sure at this point we're at "trans men experience misgendering... maybe...?"

Well that doesn't count since everyone wants to be a girl, an idea that I believe has universal appeal because I'm a self-centered moron.

You're awesome <3

Thank you anon. <3

I didn't realize I was trans from yaoi but I did largely realize it from memes about traps and accidentally stumbling across largely transfem subreddits via a anime memes despite being transmasc so. Great amount of respect for our yaoi soldiers.

Hell yeah!

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 12: world on fire

word count: 2,256

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Days would pass since Tommy's near brush with death and your ascent from the dark. At first, no one asked where you were, but as the week progressed, Arthur and John were the first to talk to Tommy about it. He could tell—not that his brothers were particularly good at hiding their emotions—that they wondered if you were alright. Finn, who still held onto the little stories you shared, resisted entering the bookshop because, in time, you had nothing to say. He voiced his concern to Tommy, but it would take him another few days to find himself outside the shop, wondering if you were inside.

He reached for the knob, and it jammed. The front door was locked, but Tommy wasn’t one to be deterred by locked doors. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, the sound sharp and commanding.

After a long pause, the door creaked open just enough for you to peer out, your expression immediately hardening.

“What do you want?”

Funny. Those were the first words he spoke to you when he sat across your desk so long ago, and now here he was again. Only this time, you were the one demanding an answer.

Tommy stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence filling the small space. He looked around the place that you always hid away in, and in some part of his mind—the part that also craved solitude among the chaos—understood, and he wished that he had a sanctuary like this of his own.

When he finally looked at you, you avoided his eyes.

“You haven't been back to the betting house. Or the Garrison.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter. You kept your demeanor cold, posture guarded, but he caught the flicker of something in your eyes—sadness, maybe, or frustration. Most likely with him.

“Well, now you know I'm alive,” you said. "Is that all?"

There it was—the uncomfortable silence. But now, you couldn't wait. The longer you waited, the longer he'd be standing in front of you.

Your jaw tightened. “Then I guess, you're just here to take up time.”

Tommy removed his hat and placed it on the counter, hoping to take up as much time to put together a delicate answer for you. “We have unfinished business.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He took a step closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You said gave me my life for my tragedy.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but, still, you said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Tommy continued, his voice low. “And I realized something.”

Your breath hitched, though you masked it well. “Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He hated this—hated the vulnerability, the uncertainty—but he forced himself to push through.

“You’ve already walked away from me more than once,” he said finally. “And, every time, I let you because of the debt I owe you. I'd rather not make that mistake again—debt or no debt.”

Your posture stiffened, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve got a choice,” he replied, his voice turning sharp. “You can keep weighing everything I do—everything you do—by value. By exchange. A debt for a debt, only giving what is equally worth the other, hiding behind that cold front of yours. Or you can look at me. And tell me, at last, what the fuck it is you really want.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and charged.

You opened your mouth to speak but faltered again, your usual sharp wit replaced by something softer, more uncertain.

Tommy stepped closer, his gaze boring into yours. “I’m not asking for answers tonight. But think about it, y/n. Because one way or another, it will come out—with or without your willingness to say it out loud.”

He turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. As he stepped into the cool night air, Tommy allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

The chessboard had shifted.

Now, it was your move.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The door shut behind him with a soft click, but the sound felt deafening in the silence that followed. You stood frozen, your back still against the counter, arms crossed as though holding yourself together.

You hated how much you hung onto his words until they crept under your skin. You hated that he could say so little and still unravel your carefully constructed defenses.

Your hands clenched into fists. Even as you thought through it all, doubt crept in. You had seen something in his eyes tonight—the same look of fragility—something he probably didn’t even realize he’d let slip. Vulnerability. Maybe even fear.

Your breathing caught at the base of your throat as another thought surfaced, unbidden. It was true. Every time, you were the one who walked away, and next time, he wouldn't let you. The thought alone was daunting, and you spent the next minute convincing yourself that he meant it as a threat. It wasn't though, it was a precarious decision he made on his own. He wouldn't let you walk away again to leave him alone.

The realization sent a chill down your spine. Tommy Shelby wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean. If he’d decided you were worth chasing, worth fighting for, he wouldn’t stop. And if he did stop, that meant he was wrong—you weren't worth it. Both concepts raged on in your head. You wanted to be worth it, but was all of this worth it to you?

Your grip on control slipped for just a moment, and you slammed your hand against the counter in frustration.

Needing someone—it was a terrible feeling, to the point where, long ago, you decided you'd never let yourself need someone again. The anger you felt towards yourself was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the frustration you felt towards Tommy. He was pushing you for an answer you didn't have, or perhaps, it was one he knew you would keep denying.

Wanting someone—there was no line of logic that would make it any better.

Your thoughts spiraled, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. There were bigger things at play.

Why did I save him, you kept asking yourself, what possessed me to go there?

The tip about Tommy replayed in your mind. Something about it hadn’t sat right with you from the beginning, but there was no time to think it through. Why would someone risk passing on information like that? Why to you, specifically? That could have gone to anyone—any of the Blinders would have readily gone to help Tommy if he needed it. So, why did that information fall into your lap?

Kennedy—a wiry fellow with shifty eyes and a devious demeanor. He’d seemed so eager, almost too eager, to help. Back when he was Bedlam's bookie, he was much more naïve, but you offered him a way out, a way to stay out of the line of fire by giving information when Arthur sought it out. So, why would he come back—willingly come back to you?

Bingham.

The name hit you like a lightning bolt. It was suddenly so obvious, too obvious. Bingham set you up. The tip wasn’t to help Tommy. It was to bait you into action, to make you reveal yourself—to show that, now, you had something you couldn't afford to lose. It didn't matter that you told yourself this agreement with Tommy was transactional. A lost investment would stay lost. But to lose Tommy was something else entirely, and you never would have allowed that to way on your conscience if he'd been killed.

You walked straight into it. Bingham knew, once again, that you allowed yourself to care enough to risk your security.

You pushed away from the counter, your heart pounding so violently it sent aches through your veins. If Bingham was watching, if this was all part of some plan, then Tommy’s visit tonight might not have gone unnoticed.

Your jaw clenched as the anger burned through your skin. You’d been a fool to think you could outmaneuver someone like Bingham without consequences. All at once, it was crumbling down at your feet. You could blame Tommy all you wanted, but all of this came down to the decision you made.

You ran to your office, hastily pulling one of the drawers, and reloaded your pistol. If someone was going to act tonight, let them. All you knew was that this wouldn't end well.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Arthur and John Shelby lingered in the shadows, the bookshop just within view. Tommy told them to follow him there, his expression unreadable as he gave the order. Others remained in the car, each more confused than the next.

“She won’t like it,” Arthur muttered, lighting a cigarette. "If she swings a bottle at my head—"

“She doesn’t have to like it,” Tommy replied, his voice cold. “Just make sure she’s not alone. Finn and I will be at the Garrison.”

"You really think something's going to happen?" John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Tommy didn't explained himself further, but Arthur and John didn’t really need an answer. They’d seen the way Tommy looked at you, even if he refused to admit it. He’d do what he always did—protect what mattered to him, whether or not he said it out loud.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

You stayed behind the counter, eyes darting back and forth between the passing shadows on the street. When the burden finally felt too heavy, you pressed your palms against your eyes, suddenly feeling so foolish at your paranoia. Bingham was too smart, and he already knew where you were. Why wouldn't he show himself? What would turning you mad do for him in the end?

You paced between the shelves of books, revolver at your side. You had to do something to keep your mind preoccupied, or else you really would go crazy. The maddening effects of staying awake for so long would get you first, and the mania would hit later. You were no good to anyone without your mind, but dying was so much more terrifying.

You looked down to the floor just as a shadow passed over the window, cloaking your legs in darkness.

The shot rang loud, piercing the window and into your shoulder. The burn came quickly, the force of the bullet sending you back into one of the shelves. You fired towards the shadow, and the window shattered completely.

The crack of your gun echoed down the street, but the damage was already done. The scent of petrol filled your lungs as it cascaded into your shop through the open window.

The flicker of flames caught your eye, and you turned to see fire licking at the edges of the bookshop’s doorway. Before you could move, a sharp pain erupted in your side. Amidst all of it, you never felt the second shot—the bullet still deep inside.

Your vision blurred, but you held yourself steady against the shelves. Your arm ran cold with the dampness of blood soaking your sleeve.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

“Bloody hell,” Arthur muttered, tossing his cigarette aside when he saw the flames.

John moved quickly, his hand on his gun. He screamed your name, the sound desperately fighting the din of crackling paper and splintering wood.

The car emptied as the two of them rushed toward the bookshop, Arthur cursing under his breath. They reached you just as you stumbled out of the doorway, nearly collapsing on the street.

“Find Tommy—” John commanded to the others as he grabbed your arm to steady you. They scattered in the direction of the Garrison.

“Get her out of here,” Arthur barked, his voice rough with urgency.

You tried to protest, but the pain was overwhelming. You wanted to tell them that your things were on the second floor, but the smoke overtook the street. Before long, everything would be lost.

“We’ll handle it,” Arthur said firmly, shoving you toward John. “Go!”

John half-carried you to the relative safety of an alleyway, his grip firm but careful. “Stay here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You leaned against the wall, breaths shallow. You watched as Arthur disappeared into the chaos, his gun raised, his silhouette outlined by the glow of the flames.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning paper and charred wood. The night was lit up with the flames of the bookshop, a chaotic dance of fire and shadows that seemed to mirror your own inner turmoil. Blood soaked through your coat, warm and sticky. You staggered, leaning heavily on the side of the car as you watched everything be swallowed by light.

Arthur appeared from the smoke, his eyes narrowed and calculating as he took in the sight of your injuries. “Did they shoot you or try to gut you with a pitchfork?”

You managed a weak smile, the pain radiating through you like a live wire. “Gentleman’s choice, I suppose.”

“We need to get her to the Garrison now,” John muttered, his eyes dark with something that wasn’t just irritation.

You didn’t respond, too caught up in trying to stay upright. The effort left you feeling dizzy, the edges of your vision tinged with gray. By now the pain was blinding. John lifted you into the car, and the last you remember feeling before the burn took over again was the feeling of cold air blowing against your cheeks.

[djevelbl]

Alright, so, final thoughts, the short version: gET ON WITH THE NEXT SEASON, CHOP CHOP STORY BOY--

Seriously tho, GREAT story — there's something about it that has made me go existential crisis levels of poetic over it that NOTHING ELSE has made me go which like. props to Evbo, he's doing great! I WILL be going feral over that ending and Parrot and that Clown cameo and Zam and all things I liked and so on so forth, like always. I wanna make character designs but it feels... wrong, I guess, in a sense to give them all designs beyond the cubic space they inhabit — I don't do well with simple and detail-free designs (like Zam's and Wemmbu's like seriously, 5 year old in paint level of detail smh /aff) and I believe that giving them ANY amount of detail they don't already have is doing their characters a disservice?? ESPECIALLY with clothes???? Idk how to say it or explain it, but the fact they don't wear armor is VERY intentional, right? I mean, PVP typically involves armor and the fact that acquiring armor is OPTIONAL is intentional for whatever reason so, again, in my head giving them any more detail than they have (or lack I say as I side-eye Zam and Wemmbu) is a disservice to how PVP Civilization works. But that's honestly just me

More spoiler-y territory up ahead, gonna put in one of those good ol' "click here for more!" thingamabobs that tumblr has. Don't say you weren't warned.

Alright, now that all the cool kids are here, let's discuss details:

When I say I went "existential crisis levels of poetic" over this thing, I mean "I wrote a whole thing about being a spectator willing and wanting to help, but unable to due to the nature of being in different levels of reality" type shit, might drop it on my ao3 (y'all should go by my ao3 i have fun stuff there and might start dropping some other stuff as well wink wink ok. self promo over) and it was honestly fun! Will DEFINITELY do some MORE of that around this new episode! Unironically frothing at the mouth waiting for a new season to start slowly being drop-fed to us like little fish being thrown those fish food chip things idk I'm too drunk to think (not really. but it's fun to say anyway)

I LOVED Zam but tbf I've been loving that motherfucking asshole bastard /aff this WHOLE TIME so like. nothing new lmaooo. I ALSO love Clown's little cameo! (not counting it as a SPOILER spoiler cuz like. it's 2 mins or so in. I won't count that shit as spoilers c'mon) but uh. ALSO nothing new lol I'm a HARDCORE (not really) Clown fan I WILL be bought and EASILY swayed over with the promise of Clown content, I'm REALLY that easy; anyway it was really fun and OFC he's an antagonist smh — he's either a bad guy protagonist or an antagonist, NEVER on the same side as the protagonist/a good guy who DOESN'T wanna murder ppl (I see what kinda theater kid he is. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE MR. CLOWN. YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME)

I said it already but I'll say it again: Tabi had ALWAYS been fucking sus to me from the start, what with being SO AT THE READY to exploit Evbo's respawning ability for her own gain and all that, so her backstabbing him ain't a surprise to me; but what someone (I'm too lazy to get to the computer to give proper credits or quoting. y'all are gonna have to make do with paraphrasing) said in the comments is actually fucking interesting: Evbo respawned; after the cut to black Tabi is seen holding her diamond axe and while that serves to show the audience what she was really born as, it could very well also show that Tabi gave Evbo a mercy — she let him respawn. She — potentially — didn't kill him with The Eternal Sword, and instead delivered the final blow with her diamond axe: an object that would allow Evbo to come back from death. She's gone soft.

That's gonna be her downfall, one way or another. Clown was right in doubting her — while she's physically strong and knows all the techniques, she's not detached enough from her emotions that she's fully capable of pretending to form friendships without actually making friends; aka: she can pretend she doesn't care, but something deep inside of her does care what happens to Evbo. Until proven otherwise I'll take this scene as bEING RIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS, I READ TABI LIKE A FUCKING BOOK LET'S GO--

So all in all I'm gonna be OBSESSED over this for the next while — well done Evbo, well fucking done

The end to the story. whatever happens, I guess it happened — I have hopes, idk where they're placed or what they mean, but I have them.

Whatever happens, I know Evbo is going out with a bang.

[dreadfutures]

almost cried as my advisor introduced my talk and emphasized my dedication to science communication, community and coalition building, and broadening participation in stem alongside all my scientific achievements 😭 kept a brave face but I'm crying now tho

[artfulacrostic]

jean moreau, and faith and religion and the absence of it.

the sunshine court, nora sakavic // the unabridged journals of sylvia plath, sylvia plath // "stay down" by boygenius ft. julien baker, lucy dacus, and phoebe bridgers // the denial of st. peter, caravaggio // salome with the head of st. john the baptist, simon vouet // henry iv pt. ii, william shakespeare // the rebirth of the arts, charles haslewood shannon // daredevil: "born again" (1986) by frank miller et al. // "ash-wednesday", t.s. eliot // map of hell, botticelli

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

Sophie Shepard & Kaidan Alenko (ME3) 1/?

MIRA'S MORE CANON ME3 "You're real enough for me." AKA: The tango. :) Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

I'm starting Mission to Zyxx Season 5 now, and I have feelings about that.

First, it generally scares me when people hype anything up at all because there is no guarantee that anyone values the exact same thing I do to the same degree. Even if I trust the creators of a thing to value something and try to do right by it, that doesn't always necessarily mean it will be successful, especially if that involves doing something wildly different than what made it good in the first place (I have been burned this way before). I guess I'm just hoping they continue the format of goofy improv shenanigans for the majority of it with something more planned and emotional in the finale if they want, like they've been doing all along. I'd think they would, and I've heard nothing bad about the ending, but I guess it still makes me nervous because I'm so close to the end and I want it so badly to stick the landing. I'm setting my expectations on the floor so I can be surprised instead of disappointed, but honestly, I don't need it to be better, I just need it to be on par with the rest.

Second, and more briefly, I'm happy it's (hopefully) ending before it has a chance to decline. I am so on board with that philosophy. But on the other hand, finishing a thing that I really, really like and knowing there's not another one out there gives me a special kind of heartache. Like, I know there will be other good media, and stuff that's good and unique in other ways, but I know for a fact that there are no other podcasts out there that have the same mix of a balance of off-the-wall improv and structured narrative, quality comedy, fantastical sci-fi setting and loveable characters, and high quality production. There are other things out there with many of those qualities, but nothing that checks every one of those boxes. It's a lightning-in-a-bottle thing that very much feels like the right people had to be in the right place at the right time to do it. Attempts to do it again would feel hollow because it had to be born out of necessity and passion and the talents of the people involved, so if you switch out the people it loses the reasons it's great, and if the same people tried to do it again it'd feel tired. That makes me so, so grateful it exists, but also so, so sad that it doesn't, and I'm 80% of the way done. When it's over, it's over.

Anyway. Now that that's all out there, I'm just gonna finish listening and have fun. Wish me luck.

[necrotic-nephilim]

What are your opinions on Casstim?

i LOVE CassTim. i've actually written a CassTim fic that's mostly just fluff and smut, but i have a lot of ideas/thoughts about them that play with the more complicated aspects of them.

i'm of the opinion that Tim and Cass were a potential romance that DC left the door open for before Tim got adopted by Bruce. (and tbh, even after he got adopted there were certain interactions in Red Robin (2009) that felt romantically implied) a lot of their interactions have implied feelings on both sides so of all Batcest ships, i think this one has a *lot* of genuine canon backing despite it being one of the most underrated ships of the fandom.

the dynamic between Cass and Tim is really interesting to me because Tim doesn't want to be Batman in any capacity and thinks that goal is actually incredibly unhealthy and unachievable, whereas to Cass it's the thing she strives for the most and if anything she wants to be even more than that. (Batgirl (2000) #59 actually has a really interesting discussion about that and that whole post-War Games arc is fun for understanding how Tim and Cass feel about each other) so a lot of their interactions clash because of that and they can't always see eye to eye on what vigilante justice and Batman's vision should look like. their relationship with each other is always going to be dependant on their relationship with Bruce first, as well as the Batman mantle as a whole. so for them to love each other (which, they do without a doubt, romantic or not) they have to accept where they don't agree with each other.

there's such a gentleness to CassTim, i think? not because i think Cass (or Tim tbh) is gentle, but i think for the exact opposite reason. there is this fullness and drivenness in the way she loves and her undying devotion to them. she would do anything to protect her loved ones. and when you combine that with Tim, who's pretty self-sacrificial at his worst, you have some interesting conflict because they're both too-willing to die for the other. their lives are defined by violence, *especially* Cass', so for her to finally let herself be loved and protected by someone else as much as she loves others is something that simply makes me feral.

they've both been trained by Shiva, which i don't think gets explored enough because it's fun for exploring the way they fight and think in a fight being potentially similar. Cass is *far* smarter than anyone gives her credit for being, and has detective skills on par with Tim, in my opinion. they balance each other out in a lot of ways. they're two people who have *chosen* this fight more than a lot of the rest of the Batfamily. being Batgirl is so important to Cass and it's something she chose because of her desperate want to be good. and Tim chose to be Robin because he knew Gotham and Bruce needed that. while they don't always agree on it, i would argue Cass and Tim understand the nuances of the Batman mantle and what it represents deeper than almost anyone else. because of that i'm particularly interested in a future CassTim, where Cass becomes Batman and Tim is in a weird limbo where he wants to stop being a vigilante but can't seem to quite let go of the life and how they end up meeting in the middle of that. i think it could be really fun with a lot of complicated arguments between them that end in a slow burn romance.

idk man this is baseless rambling, but tldr i love them so dearly and there's so much that can be explored between them. also, i think TimKonCass should be a thing. i like KonCass more than most people do (why do y'all hate this ship it's so good pls hear me out-) and i think as a complicated weird throuple they'd be fun.

[astridthevalkyrie]

everything you see ab being the oldest daughter is true btw why am i the family therapist AND punching bag smh

long ass depressing rant in the tags srry i got a wee bit emotional