#where i have most of a page or a few done but it's nevertheless in progress

[mhaccunoval]

i don't need to start the RtHT wiki without finishing the others but 🥺

[usedpidemo]

Codependency (Ive Yujin)

On one side, there’s a mansion worthy portrait of you on the wall. On the other, wards and recognitions from numerous governing bodies with your name plastered in remembrance. The public knows more about the brand than the people behind it; that’s how business works. Unless your name happens to be Musk, Bezos, or Zuckerberg.

You’re nowhere near their level of wealth and influence—far from it—yet this entire building’s future rests on your shoulders. It’s not as easy as it looks.

You’ve always credited your guardian angel for keeping you from harm your entire life. It sounds religious, but from personal experience, it’s real. 

She’s guiding you from the secluded corner of your office.

—————

“And that’s how we’ll proceed with operations moving forward,” you say to the executives in the room—except they're not physically there. Their faces are projected on screen, joining from different countries, with some even joining from home. To be quite frank, you understand very little about your own presentation, and had your acting not been Oscar-worthy, there’s more that would appear absurd than believable. “Do we have any questions?”

For the most part, the top brass appear to be in unanimous agreement with everything that has been laid out. Not a single question, complaint, or rebuttal from anyone.

“Well done, officer. You seem to have a complete grasp and understanding of the situation,” says one of the chiefs, his ripe old age showing through his slow, strained tone. 

Another suit, much closer to your age—albeit barely (he’s in his mid-forties)—adds, “We expect an immediate turnaround, otherwise we may have to cut even more of our divisions off. Should this plan fail, we anticipate closure of even more of our departments, including yours.”

It’s not the most concerning thing you’ve heard this week, but it’s definitely up there–at least top three.

Nevertheless, you remain firm and bow to your superiors as you end the meeting. “Thank you sirs. We will do our best.”

As soon as the video call ends, you let out this deep sigh of relief that’s been repressed the entire time. Thank goodness you have an entire building floor and private office to yourself. 

“Well fuck me,” you mutter, seemingly speaking to the void, taking all the deep breaths you need, wiping the sweat across your head with some tissue. “Tell me I followed through on everything, right?”

“Yeah. Apart from mixing a few things, you mostly got it.” Yujin’s voice emerges from the far end of the room, covered in darkness, away from anyone’s view. The papers on your desk aren’t actually documents or paperwork. In reality, they’re pages of a manuscript with a few instructional, handwritten notes attached. It’s not even your own writing; they’re curated by none other than Yujin herself. “I’d say I wouldn’t have noticed, even if they were a little too obvious at times.”

“These conferences are fucking tiresome. Nauseating even,” you reply. Yujin opens up the blinds, and you stagger away from the immediate sunlight piercing through the room. Simply put, you just want to throw up after yapping all that incomprehensible jargon. “You know what—why don’t we switch places next time? I think you’d be better at this than me, like you already are with everything.”

An unusual comment for the director to make to his assistant, but it’s true. Yujin is so good in every department that it’s borderline farcical. She’s incredibly reliable to the point where you’ve basically deferred nearly every task to her, leaving you with the most boring parts of your job, which mostly comprises of company meetings and private calls. She’s a relatively new hire, having worked in your department for a little over a year, yet her rise up the ranks has been nothing short of absurd. 

“Please, let’s not get carried away,” she softly laughs, flashing a lovely smile you never grow tired of seeing—and you see her as soon as you walk into the building till you clock out.  “I’m fine with the research and paperwork. Regardless of what you want to believe, I think you sold it well.”

You slump back in your chair, somewhat bothered at just how unbothered Yujin is. How she’s able to take all your responsibilities that you should be doing, and without protest. One look at her features tells you all you need to know: that she’s happy to work for you. She could easily be in your position right now, putting you through this exact hell. She could be on that screen making those very threats on your job, in fact. Instead, she prefers to be your subordinate.

If that wasn’t enough of an example, she’s gathering the papers on your desk, putting them back together, good as new. Then she brings you a cup of water from the dispenser. She’s enumerating a list of other, just as unintelligible things that may or may not be important to your discussion earlier. Meanwhile, you’ve been sitting in that chair, your thoughts wandering aimlessly, thinking about anything that isn’t work. It’s almost noon, yet your mind just wants to check out for the rest of the day.

“Um—sir? You okay?” Yujin waves a hand right in your face, snapping you from your tired daze.

You tilt up to her gaze, eyes weary. “Yeah. I’m just—tired.”

“Do you want me to leave? I’ll go and sort out the upper management on your behalf if you’re not feeling well.”

“Don’t.” You rise from your seat, telling her, “I’ll take care of it. Go and have lunch,” as you point at your wristwatch, both hands closely pointed at the top.

“You sure? You should go have lunch too,” she replies, showing an alarming amount of concern that it’s almost comical. “Don’t worry about me.”

Shaking your head, you respond, flashing a light grin to reassure her, “I can talk to them at any time. T your break. I’ll call you when I need anything.” 

—————

Truth be told, you didn’t want to see her for the rest of the day, let alone seek her help. 

Yujin is only one call away. After all, she’s your assistant, down to working right outside your office. She’s working on whatever nonsense you’ve assigned her, showing no signs of slowing down. Meanwhile, you can barely call today productive; you’ve only completed two pages of a draft for next week’s presentation. In the time spent between slowly chopping away and stalking her from behind the door, her pretty profile a sight for sore eyes, she’s probably completed this week’s assignments and halfway through the next. She’s that efficient.

Hours pass, until the day finally ends at five. At exactly the top of the hour, she lets herself into your office, her pleasant attitude still in full bloom. “Already completed all the tasks for today. How about you?”

Yujin is not even trying to gloat—not in the slightest—yet it sounds like a punch to the gut. You can only slam your chin flat on the desk in despair, shooting a tired glare at her. She tries to muffle her chuckle, trying to keep herself professional, not realizing you’ve already seen through her facade.

“You want me to help you out? I don’t mind working an hour longer if you need it.” She’s peeking her head over the laptop display, examining for the proof of concept—or lack thereof. “Didn’t I tell you to leave this five plan strategy to me?”

This amount of confidence should leave you battered and deflated. And yet, there’s a sense of relief knowing Yujin will get the job done no matter what you ask of her. It’s enough to turn that frown into a faint, encouraging grin. 

“I guess so,” you tell her, putting down the screen. Getting up from your chair, you close the window blinds and block out the setting sun. “Maybe I’m just tired of deferring all my responsibilities to you, that’s all.”

Her smile looks innocent, demure even, it doesn’t make sense as to how irrevocably kind she is to you. As far as you know, your employees consider you as shrewd and as scummy as your superiors. Forget that you’ve been working here longer; they consider everyone that isn’t their fellow rank a corporate dirtbag who’d step over others the first opportunity they can. It’s a vicious cycle. To have someone like Yujin feels like an anomaly. 

“Don’t worry about it, that’s why I’m getting paid right?” she answers back, pressing her palms on your desk. “Just do what you can and I’ll handle the rest.”

You’re pouring an espresso into a cup, before offering the drink to her. “We should talk, Yujin,” you say, filling up a separate glass with your own. Your fourth shot. “You got a minute or two?” 

“Sure. I always have time for you.” Yujin sits up, taking the drink into her hand, crossing her leg. It’s nearly impossible to look anywhere else but on them. As if she couldn’t be any more perfect, in mind, character, and body. “Is there anything bothering you lately?”

Sitting across her with only a desk separating you, the words never come out. You’ve got plenty on your mind: the messy state of your department, the unreasonable expectations and demands of your superiors, the possibility of losing your job—and Yujin. She’s sitting right there, ready to hear you out, but you never find the conviction to confess your worries. The next few minutes are awkward silence, only broken by the occasional stir of teaspoon and the sip of coffee. It isn’t that she renders you speechless, though one would fairly assume as to why: she’s pleasant to look at, among other things. It also helps that her outfits have been getting skimpier over the past few weeks. Unsurprisingly, you let the flagrant violation of the dress code go unpunished. 

“Sir? Is everything okay?” Yujin leans her head forward, noticing that you’re lost in thought. She places her cup on the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyebrows instinctively rise. That glimmer of hope you showed moments ago disappears. What’s left is despair. “I think we might be fucked, Yujin.”

“Fucked? What do you mean by that?”

“We’re fucked. Like, we could be out of a job fucked.”

“Explain?” Yujin cannot comprehend it—then again, anyone else would react the same way. “Didn’t we give the board a five step plan earlier today?”

“We did,” you reply, finally mustering the strength to meet her eyes. “But here’s the thing: we don’t have the financial or human capacity to execute the plan. At least, in the time they demanded.”

“And? We did the research and even the hypotheticals!” You’ve never heard Yujin raise her voice even once—until now. “What could go wrong exactly?”

“They think we can course correct years worth of bad financial decisions in just a few months. That’s the problem. Either way, we’re fucked.”

“I don’t believe you.” Yujin forcefully rises from her seat, threatening to flip the desk. If she only had the strength. “After all the time I spent working on it, you want to wave the white flag and give up?”

You don’t really know how to answer her. At least, in a way that’s remotely graceful and easy to understand. 

“I’m sorry, Yuj, but no matter what—”

“I’m trying—so fucking hard—” she huffs, her fist clenching, trembling violently— “to carry your fucking ass so that we could keep our livelihoods. And not just me or you, but also the hundreds working for us! I know you fucking hate their guts because they’ve said nothing but terrible things about you, and even if none of that is true because I know you better than anyone else in this fucking building, at least have the decency to salvage whatever’s left instead of being a fucking coward for once!”

Yujin doesn’t notice that she’s been outright screaming into your face. You’re taken aback, utterly in disbelief at what she just aired out. If she wasn’t kindness incarnate, she likely would have pulled you by the shirt and choked you till you passed out. She blinks. The realization hits, and she begins to crumble.

“Sorry” is the only thing she can say, in quiet mumbles, slowly falling back onto her chair. Her hands cover the lower half of her face, completely mortified. Her eyes are on the verge of tears before giving out and crying waterfalls. Eventually, she lowers her head out of shame.

Even before entrusting her with such a demanding assignment, you knew there was nothing other than divine intervention that could save your job. This wasn’t what you signed up for, and neither did Yujin. For the most part, this was only to save face. Your face. The board of directors didn’t have any objections after all, and were mostly agreeable with every step of the plan. Either that or their old age is catching up and they hardly understood a thing at all. Like you.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t excuse you from criticism. This is on you, and you should be held accountable. Instead of rightfully performing your part, you weighed down someone else with your burden. It’s the wake-up call you need.

Yujin shouldn’t feel guilty saying all of this and having to apologize. She’s crying on your desk, still softly apologizing between tears, “Sorry—I’m really sorry—” and your heart fucking drops. 

It’s a terrible feeling.

“Yuj, please stop crying,” you mutter, caressing her shoulder. Seeing her look so defeated brings you more distress than anything, including the thought of losing your job. “I should be the one apologizing for putting you through all this. You’re right—”

“I’m so sorry.” She’s still asking for forgiveness, your words mostly going unnoticed. “I just wanted to—”

“You’re right, Yuj. I’m a coward. I’ll admit, I honestly wanted to resign the moment they brought this up. If they couldn’t do a damn thing about it, how else would I know? Seeing you figure out a way made me realize just how much I depend on you to save my ass. I should be the one saying sorry, not you Goddammit, Yuj. What would I do without you, honestly—”

She tilts her head up, her sniffling and sobbing unceasing, resting her head on your chest. “I’m sorry. What I said is still out of pocket and I wasn’t in the position to say—”

“Shush, Yuj. Stop apologizing for being right,” you reply, brushing her hair. “Look. We’ll go forward with your plan. You can write up the whole thing and I’ll present it your way. I won’t muck up in front of the directors, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna quit.”

“Really?” She lifts up her eyes, doe-looking and glimmering.

“Yeah. Might as well go down with a sinking ship, so please stop crying,” you say, smiling. “You made me feel like shit and I don’t like it.”

Yujin laughs. Heartily.

—————

Even though that should havd been enough to appease Yujin, in your eyes, it wasn’t. You had to make it up to her in other ways.

“This place serves really good food,” you tell Yujin, digesting the sights and scents of the relatively small eatery. Meanwhile, Yujin sits beside you, eating to heart’s content without a care. “I can see why you love it.”

“How’d you know this was my favorite place to drop by after work?” she asks, chomping down on the last stick of her barbecue. 

“I have my sources,” you tell her, playfully grinning, unwilling to admit that you’ve been watching from behind your car’s windows for some time now. 

“Don’t tell me it’s Wonyoung, boss.” Yujin pouts, flustered and embarrassed. “I swear to God, I can’t trust anything with—”

“It isn’t her, don’t worry,” you chuckle, amused at her red-faced look. 

“I really appreciate the offer,” she remarks, finishing the remaining half of her drink. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do for my hardworking assistant,” you reply, gesturing to the lone cook for the bill. The charges go up to the hundreds, with most orders belonging to her. While she’s chomping away at the end of a large meal, you secretly foot it on her behalf. How she maintains her figure while consuming this much food, you’ll never know. And when she calls for the tab, she’s told that it has already been paid in full.

“Now you’re just being extra,” she says, facing you, looking insulted by the kind gesture, but in a playful way. Appreciative regardless. “I already told you we’ll pay for what we each ordered.”

Looking at the stack of empty plates on her side—when compared to yours—some part of you believes that to be false. You don’t even have to say anything for her to realize she’s not one to fulfill her own word either.

“Okay—I would have paid 25 percent.”

You can’t place any blame on her. She laughs—at herself. She’s so charming, a pleasure to watch, that you would let her slide, had this not been your intention right from the start.

“Stop.” 

You end up laughing with her too.

—————

“Seriously. Don’t lie, you promise you won’t just suddenly quit on us?” Yujin asks, staring at you as you walk toward your parked vehicles outside the eatery. “This feels like a way to soften the blow.”

Both of you stop right in front of your cars. “Not at all,” you tell her, staring directly into her eyes. “What else do I have to do to prove that I’m not quitting?”

“I don’t know, sir. I mean—you, suddenly asking me to eat out—” she rolls her eyes away, skeptical— “You’ve never done that.”

The cold nighttime air sweeps all over you. Chilly, you rub your arms together, partially regretting the decision to cover Yujin with your coat. She’s relatively unfazed, warm in your garment; even more surprisingly, it fits her perfectly like a glove. 

“I wouldn’t leave if it means I lose you, Yujin.”

It’s not the words you wanted to say. Every part of that sentence leaves your lips effortlessly. A little too effortless.It’s an unconfessed confession, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. Sure, she may interpret it as merely you being codependent on her when it comes to work, but there’s no way there isn’t some kind of other, deeper meaning behind them.

“Lose me? What does that mean?” She asks, even more curious. Of course, Yujin isn’t the brain of your operations for nothing. It isn’t surprising when she figures you out. “You like me, don’t you?”

Just like that, the tables have turned. You can’t deny your feelings any longer.

You gently nod. Perhaps the killing blow could be softer if you find closure, right here, right now.

She leans forward, both of you unable to do anything other than to stare into each other’s deep, longing eyes. The tension between you is the only source of heat in the midst of a cold, lonely night. 

By all accounts, the relationship between you and Yujin is strictly professional. Apart from a few trips abroad, you keep all conversations business related. Mind-numbing, confusing agency jargon. It’s a helpful practice in keeping your space; no matter how attractive she may look and saccharine she may sound, no amount of pleasantry can make company discussion remotely close to entertaining. You’d rather play with the blinds in your office. She’s doing her part too: clock in at nine, clock out at five on the dot. It’s a healthy routine. After hour talks between you are rare. It’s common practice to maintain a firm working relationship. It’s also just common sense. Good organization begins at the top.

Moments like these are strong reminders on why you avoid crossing that line. Yet you don’t stop—not when she’s the one making the first move. 

You kiss. Your lips stay a little longer than they should. The taste lingers. 

You find solace in each other's warmth, in a comforting embrace. She rests her head on your chest, her hands gripping into your shirt tightly. Deep down, you both recognize you’re on borrowed time. Whether through your promotion or your release, you won’t be together for much long. Countless hours spent together, so many occasions—the opportunities are being handed to you on a silver platter, only for you not to take the chance.

Not anymore. You won’t make the same mistake again.

—————

Driving her home was easy; finding your way into your room was half the battle. 

“It took us this long to share a room, huh?” Yujin huffs against your face, finding and capturing your lips even in an erratic, volatile environment. She’s pushing you against the wall, her palms having an iron grip on your cheeks, pulling you close and wildly kissing you. The entire trip up to your apartment floor has been nothing but shaky kisses and clothes slowly scattering from the elevator to your front door.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” you manage to mutter, holding her face away for a brief respite to answer, only to be forced back in once again. Any semblance of professionalism between you is abandoned for fiery, passionate lovemaking, future relationships be damned. 

The most surprising thing is how it isn’t as messy as it may look. See, despite the bite marks on your skin, the wrinkles in your clothes, and the rather loud, unceremonious manner you enter your apartment, you’re still in the process slowly unraveling. There’s a conscious effort to make sure neither side comes out completely in ruins. A silent agreement between you. 

Her hands lay claim to your shirt, threatening to tear you apart if you don’t do the same to her. She lifts her head when you quickly peel through her long skirt; you dive in and make it yours. The crack in her voice as she mewls tickles your ears just right. Slowly spreading her legs wide, pulling the panties down her well defined thighs. In response, she tugs at your shirt, popping a few buttons loose. It isn’t as easy as it looks to have Yujin pinned against the wall; she’s actively fighting, trying to seize back control. If she can’t have her way with you, at the very least she can rein you in. Only now do you realize the danger your little escapede.

With her slender legs wrapped around your waist, you can only do so much. Yujin can’t stop kissing you, leading your gaze to anywhere but her pretty, lust-ridden expressions. She wants this more than you do. Against your desires, you end up in the kitchen, propping her on the bar counter as lipstick covers your entire face. The brief respite when she catches her breath gives you ample time to unbutton the rest of your shirt before tossing it aside—something you don’t give her the decency to finish.

While she’s still staggering, lost in her own thoughts, you take her by the shoulder and leave a fresh mark on her neck. A distraction. More importantly, your fingers feel their way around the back of her dress, find the touch of metal—and yank. The zipper follows, the lengthy garment gradually coming undone, until Yujin pushes the rest of it off her shoulders and to the floor. Your eyes gleam like starlight as her bra reveals itself, taking countless mental snapshots at that moment. 

Not even her attempts to redirect your attention can pull you away. 

You push her down on the marble surface. The bar is big enough to fit you both. Joining her atop the counter, your gaze wanders down her divine figure—and you don’t know where to start. Everything about Yujin is designed to be as perfect as humanly possible. No one should be flawless.

“How can you be any more perfect, Yuj,” you mutter, eyes roaming everywhere, soaking in the immaculate sight before you. “How did I not want you any sooner?”

Yujin’s hand traces down your arm. “You could have just asked. My previous employers did. It was a regular part of the job for me.”

You’re shaking your head. Imagine that—an employer taking advantage of their employee offering themselves without any restraint. You would never—except you already did. Your previous assistant can vouch.

“Don’t feel sorry. I want this just as much as you do,” she adds, pulling you towards her face for a soft kiss, clearing all doubt. “Besides, you’re not that much different from any of them. Why stop now?”

“Not that different? Were they just as codependent on you as I am?”

Nodding in agreement, she laughs. 

“God fucking dammit.” 

You sigh. Yujin continues laughing. What a momentum killer. And the worst part is, it’s self-inflicted and completely avoidable. You should have just kept going, kept her speechless.

Still, it’s not the end of the world. You’re on top of Yujin; she has no intention of leaving you anytime soon. Most importantly, she’s unhooking her bra while you’re caught up in your feelings. “But—there’s one difference: I actually love working for you. I wouldn’t mind letting you use me.”

“You love working for me? Why?”

She’s biting her lip, grabbing you by the back of your head. “You’ll find out yourself. You know what to do.”

“What? How?” The word comes out panicked, desperate.

Yujin shakes her head, the smirk on her lips twisting, wicked. “You know how.”

At first, finding what she means proves to be a struggle. After all, Yujin’s not the mysterious type. She always tells you everything straight, condenses complex conversations into digestible servings for easy consumption. It’s not in her character. Yet, one look at what’s in front of you—her naked frame casually lying beneath yours, her hands running all over your bare self—the realization hits you like lightning, and you’re mentally punching yourself for being so dangerously oblivious.

You kiss her on the lips again. You can’t get enough. You’d happily stay in this position all night long. Except that isn’t what she wants. She wants you to go further. 

So you sink further and further down. The closer you get, the more she opens up. A sloppy trail follows your lips, from her chin, to her collarbones, to her chest and navel, and everything else in between. She’s soft to the touch, so flexible and malleable—every part of her, you make yours. Then you get to her core, her inner thighs spreading, and watch as it unravels before you, quivering, soaked, needy. You look into each other’s eyes, hers anticipating. There’s a craze behind your irises, as if some repressed need is crawling back to the surface. It’s slowly driving you wild.

Your name drips on the edge of Yujin’s mouth—a sign of impatience—before suddenly cracking at the point of impact. She rolls her head back, her voice reduced to an airy sigh as your tongue licks up her slit, her entrance, in a slow upward motion. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to devolve into a hungry, primal mess. Her thighs close in and clamp you down, suffocating you while you become more familiar with the sensation and taste of her dripping cunt. 

If only you could hear the full extent of her moans, turning a pitch higher with each passing swipe and slurp. You’re humming into her core, satiated and fulfilled with the taste of her slick in your mouth. Yujin’s hands stretch out for help, for stability as pleasure gradually overwhelms her. Propped underneath her thighs, your hands dig under to reach places that your tongue can’t. She grows erratics, restless, moved by your presence inside her.

“Fuck!” The profanity escapes her lips instinctually, like it’s always been a part of her. She’s writhing, jaw slack, her back arched over the bar, her hands now grasping on your hair, then on the edges again. On your side, the pressure her thighs bring leave you suffocating. It’s too much. You should be begging for your life; instead, you’re enjoying every minute, slowing your pace every now and then to savor the feeling. 

Despite her state, she’s caught you by the wrists. They do little in stopping your tongue from consuming every inch of her, and you end up pushing her forward. You grip her by her thighs and spread her wide. She can’t resist. Fresh air has never felt more soothing to the lungs. By the way you have her legs dangled up in the air, you’re threatening to pull a nerve. She’s screaming, crying out in desperation, 

Still, it doesn’t change the outcome. Yujin finally loses herself completely and comes undone. She cums—blasts jets of slick all over your face and mouth. The counter pools with the aftermath of her orgasm, and you lick it all up, sanitation be damned. 

When you finally emerge from the depths of her tight, drenched cunt, she remains a mess, stamina completely drained, body still trembling from her massive climax. You’d think after that, she would be incapacitated for the night, until—

“Wait.” Yujin deeply exhales, pulls you by the wrist. You aren’t exactly going anywhere. As if struck by lightning, she suddenly rises up. A shit-eating grin forms on her lips, as if the damage wasn’t enough to take her down. There’s a familiar look in her eyes—the gaze of a woman who needs more.

She flicks a sample of her slick from the spot on the counter and laps it up, still eying you with unceasing lust. You remember her words, the question to ponder: “You’re gonna tell me now?”

Yujin blankly stares. The question lingers for a little while. “Tell you what?” she replies, the tone convincing enough to feign innocence.

“Why you love working for me.”

She smiles again, a teasing look. “You’re halfway there.”

“What does that mean?” As you try not to overreact, your assistant turned one night stand tries to stifle her laughter. It almost goes unnoticed, until— “Yuj, you’re really getting on my nerves with all this vaguery bullshit going on.”

“It’s part of the fun, is it not? Do you want me to give it straight?”

“Yes! Like always!” 

Yujin leans close. One hand reaches for your pants, the other still attached to your wrist. She appears like she’s going for yet another kiss, when she stops right next to your ear and whispers, “I want you to fuck me. Use me,” before drawing herself away.

On the surface, the stare you give her looks cold. Deep in your mind, the words resonate and ring louder and louder. Four words. “Fuck me—” “Use me—” The arousal bubbles up, manifests on your cheeks. The next few minutes can go so many ways, more than you can imagine. In your eyes, she’s still your assistant, a friendly, dependable worker whom you consider a close acquaintance more than anything. 

The thing is: you’ve already gone far past the point of no return. Her gaze is enticing—demanding—you to keep going. 

There’s no stopping now.

Yujin casually follows you to your bedroom, hand in tow. The rest of your clothes lie discarded in the kitchen—boxers, pants, and all. Gone are the nerves and hesitations; the attitude you have towards her is different. “Lay down,” you command her, voice steely, and she obliges, the bed flopping with the slight crash of her lithe figure. You won’t ever grow tired of staring at her naked body, regardless of it’s position. 

She lays flat on her tummy, observing you rummage through your large closet of suits, pulling a red tie from one of the drawers. “Not the first time I’ve had something wrapped around my neck,” she remarks, raising a curious eyebrow, crooked smile unyielding. “Stylish, just like you.”

“I wasn’t asking for your input.” You’re never this stern towards Yujin. You toss the necktie on the mattress before joining her atop the bed. “Turn around.”

Like the good girl she is, she obliges. That’s Yujin for you; she’ll always follow everything you tell her, no questions asked. On her fours, her plump ass glides face up, in complete view. Another temptation, another part of her to claim as yours. Regardless, you’re in no hurry; you’ve got the rest of the night.

With your erect cock in hand, you line the tip against her sopping cunt. She winces, moans at the contact. “Oh, fuck—” she whines, lifting her head up, her nails pressed into the sheets. As inviting as the call of her tight, wet pussy is to you, you make an organized effort to resist the immediate lull to fuck her hard.

Even holding her figure with your other hand proves to be a nightmare. Her body enraptures you in hypnotic ways. The arch of her back, the curve of her ass, the hourglass frame—it’s a feast for the eyes. You could take your sweet time and worship every little part of Yujin and she wouldn’t mind, but in the midst of your blinding daze, she’s calling to you. Again.

“Are you just gonna admire me or are you gonna shove that big cock in me?” She faces you with a mischievous grin. “I don’t mind both.”

Suddenly, you remember your position in this relationship. You grab her by the throat, face her away again. “Quiet. I don’t want to hear any more from you unless you’re taking this fucking cock.”

Showing a little resistance, she tries daring you, “Then f—fuck!”

Her jaw goes wide, frozen in place, her voice abruptly cutting as you undercut her with your cock. You’re no better; pleasure sets your muscles ablaze as you thrust into her inviting cunt. It shows in the deep groan spilling from your mouth. Little by little, you plunge ever so deep until you feel yourself buried to the hilt. That’s when you finally let out this breath of relief—but not for long. 

Her pussy clenches hard. Her heat proves to be suffocating beyond measure. If you don’t act quickly, she could end you in seconds. 

“O-oh God—”

You slowly, painstakingly pull back before throttling your hips into her. Taking these short breaths, every little move you make is precarious. It’s not that she’s resisting you—far from it—but it’s you resisting the urge to cum so soon. Your mind tries to think of anything other than what’s right in front, but even that proves to be nearly impossible. The ripple of her ass, the slight wobble of her breasts, the twisting grip of your hand on her otherwise soft skin—

“So fucking tight. Holy fuck, Yuj—” You manage to mutter before you’re reduced to groans again. 

All you can focus on is keeping yourself together while you’re slowly crumbing away. You find a rhythm in the midst of the madness, pounding away at your assistant’s cunt, your senses overrun by pleasure and the satisfying sound of your skin slapping skin. Elsewhere, your hands can’t seem to find solace in just one area. They’re everywhere; from her hair, to her throat, to the arch of her ass, to her hips, the imprints stay new, eventually creating a patterned sequence that immediately breaks.

You’re fucking these strained cries and prasies out of Yujin’s sweet lips, and it’s quite the mouthful. ’More,’ ‘harder,’ ‘so good—’ until it reaches the point where her voice is so worn from your chokehold that she can only speak in high pitched mewls. Another cycle you wish would never end. 

Slowing your pace, you reach for the necktie, gently tying it around her neck while preventing your rhythm from disrupting. “You’re such a fucking perfect woman, you know that?” you mutter in her ear, kissing the helix and indulging in the scent of her perfume mixed with sex and sweat. “Perfect listener, perfect assistant, perfect body—”

Pulling yourself away from her, you yank the tie along—your makeshift leash. Her body tilts all the way up, a sharp screech suddenly filling the bedroom. You’re not sure if its from the pull or just her moan. Either way, you have her in your grasp. Brushing her hair aside, you mumble, “Actually, I don’t know how to use a tie like that. I just wanted to remember what it’s like to be the boss. Your boss.”

It should have sounded flat, like all your other attempts at being convincing. And yet, she leans her ear backward, trying to recapture your lips. Teasing a little, your lips make what’s considered the most minimal of contacts, before you push her to her fours. You don’t intend to pull on the tie again, but you’re still holding on to it like your most prized possession—and it may as well be Yujin. 

“Of course,” are her first words uttered in a while that aren’t some combination of profanity and praise. 

Grabbing her by the midsection, the rhythm of your thrusts quickens. You feel it. The imminent collapse. And it’s not just the bed quaking and creaking from your sex. She’s pleading now; ’So close,’ she tells you, begs you to let her cum all over your cock. In any other scenario, you’d acquiesce. Here, with all the authority, you’re going to assert your power a little.

“Say it. Say it and I’ll let you cum all over me,” you demand, your hand climbing up to her chest, grabbing at her breast, folding her up slightly that her grip on the sheets transfers to the headboard. “I wanted you so fucking bad for so long.”

“Anything for you. Just let me cum!” she cries out, on the verge of falling apart. Dangerously close.

“Tell me I’m yours.”

“I’m yours!”

“You know what I meant. Say it again.”

“I’m yours! I’m yours!”

Hearing her declare that she belongs to you with such conviction almost upends you too. You almost give in, but narrowaly escape thanks to your utter resolve. The smirk on your face is priceless.

“Perfect. Now cum.”

Just like that, her body reacts at the drop of your command, as if it was hardwired into her. Yujin goes numb—fidgeting, cumming all over your cock—as you continue to pound into her cunt. A single word echoes, going quieter with every incantation: ‘Fuck,’ she whines, caught reeling in her orgasm and catching every breath possible. 

Eventually, it comes to a standstill, the only thing left is for you to crash. Lucky for her, you’re not that far off. You’ve let go of the tie, holding onto her shoulders instead. So now it’s her opportunity to turn the tables on you again.

“Fucking give it to me—oh I need it now, oh God—” Yujin begs, barely keeping herself upright in the aftermath of her climax.

And you just crash down on her, slamming her deep into the sheets, turning her around as you fuck callously, clamping her neck, her moans ringing into your ear. She has a leg wrapped arond yours—as if you had any intention of pulling out. You’ve spent enough time away from her pretty face; now you want to watch her take all your load deep in her pussy.

Yujin’s mouth melds in the shape of a moan as the pressure finally overwhelms you. Burying yourself deep in her, you’re still pumping, fucking your cock as you blast thick load after thick load in her warm, creamy cunt. The sensation leaves you breathless, hanging onto her for dear life as you wait for the moment to pass. Though it may seem like a couple of minutes, the feeling lingers far longer than you can imagine. She milks you of all your worth, drawing every last drop from your throbbing cock until your body can’t move any longer.

Eventually, your bodies wind up together, limbs tangled, wrapped around each other in a warm embrace. The comfort you both needed after a long day.

—————

You gaze down at a tired Yujin. Hours ago, you were the one holding onto her; now she’s the clingy one, wrapping an arm over you. “I really need to know, Yuj.” 

She mumbles into your chest. “What is it?” You feel her soft lips leave lipstick marks on your skin.

You’re brushing away loose, dark strands of her hair to get a better look of her pristine, shiny face. “Why do you love working for me?”

After the passionate night you just had, you still have the gall to ask such a frivolous question. The answer should be obvious by now.

She looks up, smiling—a pleasant, friendly gleam, one you immediately recognize as soon as you walk through those office doors. “Because you’re the first boss I’ve ever worked for that isn’t a total asshole. Also, you’re good at everything.”

You raise an eyebrow and frown. “That’s not—”

“You know what I meant, boss.” The smiling turns into teasing. You realize, then you laugh.

You should be basking in the afterglow of sex, but daylight peeking through your curtain says otherwise. You’re so tired, you can’t move a muscle, let alone grab the phone from the living room to tell the time. All you know is that you should be at work by now, and so should Yujin.

The ring from your phone can be heard loud and clear, even a room and clothing pocket away. As you try to lift your head, Yujin meets you halfway, kissing you before laying you back down.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll write up your leave of absence. Besides, I could use some time off too,” she says, inching her face close to yours.

The notion frightens you. Yujin, your most reliable assistant, never missing a day that isn’t considered a holiday, not by your side when you need her. 

And you need her now more than ever.

“Time off? When?”

“From now. Until you say we’re done.”

—————

(A/N: :bsadcorner:)

(Missing IVE's first proper world tour will always be one of my K-pop low points, even if I already watched and even shared an interaction with them. Goddammit, I can already expect the prices and perks for their next tour will be even more expensive than it already is. Sigh. Anyway, I hope they get their well deserved time off. Thank you for reading!)

[k4shixe]

Out in the Night.

Staring; Shota Aizawa x gn!student

Summary; Due to the lack of rest you get because of your mother and her boyfriends, you missed your stop and are all by yourself at a random location when someone stops by to help.

Warnings; mentions of abuse, horrible mother that mistreats reader, boyfriends of mother that mistreats reader, police, bruises, trauma(?)

Word count; 2k+

You jumped out of bed when you realised you slept in, your mum shouting at you for creating all that noise. You knew that witch was the one to change your alarm but you couldn’t do anything. Shes your only family and she gets paid to look after you but that doesn't satisfy her greed enough and now shes forcing you to become a hero. You cant lie that you obviously wanted to be one, but it isn’t you true passion, but anything to keep you mother quiet was enough to keep you motivated. You joined UA after the hardest training you had ever done, the mean comments from your mother and one of her new boyfriends that came on a regular did tire you more then expected. Nevertheless, joning UA was meant to be that big achievement you could have, a new life, new friends and certainly more time to be away from your mother. But you never could understand why noone talked to you. Was it how you looked? You did have dark eye bags and lots of bruises and marks all over your body because of your dear old mother and all of her boyfriends from over the years. No matter how hard you tried covering them up, but no matter what you did you always somehow missed a spot. When someone did ask about it, after hesitating and staring you for a while, you told them sheepishly that it was from training. Big Mistake. No one wanted to hang out with the psycotic kid with marks all over them. You made peace with that after the first few weeks trying to make friends and now just do everything yourself.

“Y/n. No sleeping in class. Detention” Mr Aizawa glares at you as you rubbed your eyes trying to get the sleep out. This was the 3rd time today and even though you swear you had a good sleep (1 hour nap), you kept on drifting off. You looked up at Aizawa, who walked back to the front of the class and continued copying down the notes on the board.

When hearing the lunch bell ring, you instinctively got up as you were always the first one out but a hand was placed on the stack of books you were just about to carry to your locker.

“Hmm? I thought I said detention”

You looked up and made eye contact with Aizawa who was giving you a stern look as he quirked a brow.

“Oh yeah, haha I forgot…” you said quietly before sitting back down. A few of your classmates gave you a pitied look, a few waved to you saying that “they would wait for you” and “save you a spot”. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. What liers they were. No one ever saved you anything.

Looking back at the man infront of you who was now checking your workbook for completion.

“Not even half the work was done. What were you doing y/n?” He asked rhetorically. Of course he knows what you were doing. Everyone does. He gave you a moment to think before continuing.

“I am expecting the completion of work and a 3 page research paper on this topic aswell to make up for it.”

You sat their silently as he slid your notebook back onto your desk before walking towards his sleeping bag.

You got up right after, packing your things and headed out for lunch, not bothering to stop by the cafeteria and going straight to the secluded spot in the garden where you sat by a tree where you'd rest at. It was your happy place. No one ever came here and there was just enough sunlight and cold breeze that made it feel heavenly. The only people that came here were people taking a short cut to their classes, but rarely anyone done that as most people found it by mistake like you. The sound of the slight wind and birds that made the tree their home comforted you to a point where you fell asleep.

You soon woke up by the sounds of your English teacher, Present Mic, shouting at some nearby student to head to class. You followed and headed to your evening classes before heading home soon after. Being exhausted by the lack of sleep, you immediately fell asleep as soon as you sat on the seat of the train.

But you were in a deep sleep state to realise the trains stopping at its stops, and you missed your one. You soon woke up by the train conductor, who lightly shook you awake. You thanked him before rushing out as it was almost midnight. You had no idea where you were, everything looking blurry and dark due to the lack of light around. You opted to sitting outside a gas station before checking you phone. No charge. Right. You didnt think charging your phone was necessary. How stupid. You sat their on the curb, as you shivered time to time from the wind and lack of clothing you were wearing which was just your school uniform. You rested your chin on your knees and zones out thinking what would happen now and how you woud get home. Atleast you mum doesn't care of realise that your home or not. Not that she ever does care. Her boyfriends and alchole always keep her occupied.

A light ‘clank’ to the street light near you and was illuminating your presence grabbed your attention. You look up, your eyes squinting from the sudden change of brightness, all you could make out was a figure with red glowing eyes and something like a scarf floating around them. You heard something like a sigh from the figure before they jumped down onto the pavement you were on. Your eyes widened as the light now illuminated the figure.

'"Well? Got anyhting to say?"

“Mr Aizawa! Oh uh, what a fancy seeing you here!” You jumped at his sudden appearance, mumbling whatever you could think of.

“Y/n, is this why your always tired?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he crossed his arms.

“partly?...” You say unsure and give a weak smile.

He glared at you before sighing.

“Go home. Its already 11:50pm.”

“Right… funny story actually… the trains kinda stopped working for the night and I also don’t know what part of Japan im in.” You sheepishly say, looking down at your feet in embarrassment.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, observing your every move like you were someone to look out for. Heck, maybe you were. He saw you still had your school uniform on,your bag and the way you were shaking slightly due to the freezing cold temperatures of the night. He sighed and gestured for you to stand before taking out his cell phone and sending a quick text. You really didn't want to test your luck, but your curiousity had the better of you and you asked;

“Uhh… who’s that to?” You ask hesitatingly.

“The police.”

“WAIT WHAT! WHY!”

“their going to take you home. Did you think I was going to do that?” He said making direct eye contact with you.

“Well… no… but I thought I’d just stay here for a little while longer…”

You spoke starring at your feet. Even though it sounded weird, This was the most you felt free in a long time. Your mum wasn't here to shout at you and tell you how worthless you were (you already knew you were) while she threw something or hit you. Her boyfriends never stood up for you either, always joining in on the 'fun' as they called it. You really didn't want this to end.

Aizawa sighs, noticing your shy demeanour and walk towards you. You shut your eyes thinking he was going to shout at you but opened them up in surprise at the comforting hand placed on your shoulder.

“Y/n, I’m not sure whats going on with you but it isn't good. Being alone at this time of night especially at your age and with the amount of sleep you have is dangerous. So let me ask you one time and one time only. Whats going on?”

You stare up at him in utter disbelief. He cares about you? The Mr Aizawa, the same man who gave you detention and extra work the very same day, was now asking if your alright? The shock must've showed on your face because Aizawa sqwised your shoulder lightly to get your attention back.

"Huh? Oh, nothing is going on! I'm perfectly fine! I just fell asleep on the train and missed my stop is all."

Aizawa made a questioning face, wether to believe you or not but then nodded and stood back up.

"I can't leave you all alone here. The police will be a while too since we're quiet far away from a station. You can either tell me what happened, in detail" he emphisaied "Or, I'll find out myself."

Find out himself? You won't, no you can't let him do that. You look up to him, look for any sign of a bluff. You make direct eye contact with him and he looks dead serious.

"So?"

Í'll- I'll tell you" you sigh in defeat.

After a while of stuttering, and long intense stares from Aizawa. You managed to say a (extremely) summaries version of your life at home. How you got the bruises, why your always so tierd, missing a some (very) important details because after everythig your mum put you through. She was still your mum and you didn't want ruin her life just yet. Aizawa must've gotten that from how many times you stopped yourself and thought over if it was good to say. He look at you, you looked like a kid trying to justify stealing a candy bar from a store. It was wrong, yet you still tried making it sound like it was normal to do, just staring at your feet as you played nevously with your hands. He sighed and took a few steps towards you, and ruffled your hair.

"It's alright Y/n, your not in any trouble. I just wanted to know because I was concerned."

You stood their for a second, processing what was happening, and before could stop yourself, a tear ran down your cheek and a few more followed after that. Aizawa watched as you quickly tried to wipe them away, why did you think crying was bad? He never understood that, even when getting hit by Bakugo's explosions or a boulder Midoriya accidently broke off while training, most people would cry or atleast complain about the pain. But you never once did, just shaking it off, even when it looked broken, you just asked to go to the nurse and would come back the next lesson acting like nothing ever happened and instead apologised for being in the way.

Aizawa could hear you sniffle and before you could say something, he gently put a hand to the back of your head and pulled you closer so that your head was resting on him. You tensed up for a moment, as you didn’t expect the sudden show of affection but you kept quiet as your tears kept falling. After a few minutes of silence, and when you no longer sniffled, you slowly raised your head, you noticed how your tears stained his hero costume and felt embarrassed. But when you looked up you saw Aizawa looking at you with concern.

“Do you feel better?” He asked not worrying about his costume.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Just as he finished his sentence, the first few police cars showed up and before you knew it, you said bye to Aizawa (who was rethinking to even let you go home) and left.

You got home and unfortunately, the police had to notify your mother that you were missing in the first place but now you were back. She acted caring but once the police left, you got the punishment of your life. Your mother shouted and beat you until her new boyfriend had to stop her because even he notice it was getting a bit too much. You didnt go to school the next day because of how many new bruises you had gained, thinking no one would notice. The day after when you did go to school, Aizawa pulled you out just before class ended and all the students were packing up and immediately asking about your absence.

“Its nothing. I just wanted to catch up on sleep” it was a bad lie, but what else could you say?

Aizawa noticed the bruise on your head earlier which your ‘covered’ with your hair and realised from your conversation something must if happened with your mum.

“Fine. You dont have to tell me but, take this and give me a call if you ever feel like your in danger”

He handed you a folded piece of paper with his personal number on it. You thanked him and stuffed it in your pocket before leaving for the day. On the way back home in the train, as you stares out the window, you smiled to yourself thinking that its nice to have someone care about you.

A/n; Hi Guys! This is my first post in months! Omg its been so long. I realised I never written anything for Aizawa even though I have so many drafts for him (he’s my fav too) so this one is for him. I apologies in advance as this could’ve been better but here it is. Enjoy! :)

[thecordelialetters]

˚✧₊⁎ My Brothers Fiancé ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Rin recounts how he fell in love with Sae's Fiancé.

★ pairing: Sae x reader x Rin

★ wc: 2.53k

Rin remembers the moment Sae brought you home. Sae was in middle school and Rin was in elementary. He recalls his mom greeting you at the door before calling him over.

“Rin! Sae’s home! And his friend is here. Come down to say hi.”

Rin didn't care Sae brought home a friend, he just wanted to hang out with his brother alone, and now this friend would be interrupting them. However, Rin's thoughts quickly changed when he saw how pretty Sae's new friend was. You were so cute that Rin got nervous, choosing to stand behind his mom instead of saying hi. You laughed at young Rin's antics before pulling out a sweet from your bag to offer him.

You bowed slightly "Here Rin! Thank you for having me here!"

Rin approached you cautiously snatching the loli out of your hand, muttering a quick " thank you " and running away.

It would be like this for the next few years. You coming over to hang out with Sae and coddling Rin. To you, he was like a little brother, so cute with a chubby baby face.

It wasn't until high school that both Itoshi siblings hit puberty and shot up in height leaving you at a mere 5'2. Head pats to Rin became hugs and that cute little boy who would beg for treats and call you big sis, became a young man who was stubborn and rude. Unlike the growing issues between the brothers, you and Sae grew close. You were the only one Sae got along with and eventually, he began to see you as more than a friend. You've been with him for the last four years, comforting him, making him laugh, and encouraging his dreams. Despite the brother's disdain for each other, you managed to be a friend to both. You showed up to their football games, cheered them on, hugged them when they won.

You and Sae eventually started dating and Rin would see more and more of you, but this time in the arm of the person he was jealous of the most. Since then, Rin started to distance himself from you, no longer responding to your good morning <3 texts, and no longer inviting you to his games. You could understand where he was coming from though, he and Sae didn't get along so you could see why he no longer wanted to associate with you, That doesn't mean it still didn't hurt your feelings though. You valued your friendship with Rin, he was there for you when your cat died when you failed your math test, and when you had trouble with Sae. Sometimes he knew you better than Sae did.

Nevertheless, Sae was a good boyfriend, he never forgot an anniversary and always surprised you with gifts and flowers. The social media posts of you two really got to Rin. You and your "perfect relationship" flaunted all over your page.

Eventually, Sae had to go to Spain for football, but before left he planned a special event for the two of you and invited his family after. Sae told your best friends to take you shopping and get your nails done with his credit card then took you to a high-end restaurant. He brought you to the outdoor garden of the restaurant and got down on one knee.

" (y/n) You have been the love of my life for the past 5 years, we were childhood sweethearts to lovers and I cannot imagine my life without you and I can't imagine going to Spain without knowing your mine. When I look at the future I only see you. You've encouraged my dream and I hope to support you in yours. I will think about you all the time when I am away. And when I come back, I would like to make you my wife."

Your eyes swelled with tears, Sae was a romantic but this was perfect. While sobbing your eyes out you held out your hand for Sae to slip the ring on whispering one word " Yes."

You two went back to the Itoshi house to celebrate your engagement. Everyone was congratulating you, everyone but Rin. He was sulking in the corner thinking about the what if's. What if he didn't push you away. What if the moments you were hanging out with him while Sae was busy he kissed you. What if he wasn't a coward to confess his feelings. Would you and him be engaged now instead of his loathsome brother?

You were devastated when Sae left for Spain. Although you continued to pursue your dream as an artist and Sae as the best midfielder in the world, you two still made time for each other. As for you and Rin, your relationship got better. Your job was near his school so you would often walk home together or get food. You two even started having Friday night movie nights. It started when you started complaining to Rin about how boring life was without friends and Sae was always too busy for you. You also told him that you wanted to see the new Barbie movie but had no one to go with. And this is how you roped Rin into dressing up with you to see it.

You two got your drinks and snacks and made your way to the theater. Sitting in your seats Rin spotted a rowdy group of guys a few seats down from you. Realizing who they were he quickly ducked his head towards you, hoping to not catch their attention. However, a certain multi-color-haired person immediately recognized him.

"Rin? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE! I THOUGHT YOU SAID THIS MOVIE WAS LAME"

You look up above Rins head to see Bachira, Isagi, Chigiri, Nagi, and Reo. "Rin I think your friends are calling you." You said with a laugh. Rin didn't know his cheeks could turn any more pink when he turned around and saw his friends also all dressed up making their way toward him.

"No way you're here! ON A DATE TOO?"

You quickly shot that down saying you were Sae's fiancé and here to hang out with Rin. Ouch. Rin's mood immediately soured upon hearing that. You two had been spending so much time together and you still saw him as Sae's brother. The two of you and the Blue Lock squad all watched the movie together with Rin's mood slowly improving by listening to your beautiful laugh.

"Hey guys let's get something to eat, we haven't seen you in so long Rin! Hanging out with (y/n) too much." Reo just wanted some juicy gossip.

You pulled Rin along ignoring his protests to go back home as you all headed for the dinner. Seeing his friends was fun, he forgot how much he actually missed Isagi and Bachira's antics as well as Reo's confidence, Nagi's laziness, and Chigiri's coolness. But mostly he was focused on the way you lit up the room with your boisterous laughter and a radiant glow that had all the males' attention on you. You had the ability to engage in conversation, make people laugh, and make people smile, something that Rin had envied but with you he admired. You looked gorgeous all dressed up in your pink baby doll dress, white stockings, and pink high-heeled boots.

Then the question came. " So how did you meet Rin and Sae? What was Rin like when he was younger."

"Oh, I met Sae through school. He was my classmate and would always annoy me to ask me what we were going in class. He was always so zoned out so he would constantly poke me with a pencil to ask. Eventually, we became friends and I met Rin, who was a cute little snotty kid." You snickered at the last bit glancing at Rin who was glaring at you right back. And then you said it. The part that would shatter Rin's heart.

"He's like a brother to me. I can wait to be in-laws when I marry Sae."

You and the guys continued talking about your relationship and your past with the Itoshi brothers while Rin wallowed in his own emotions.

Like a brother

Those words echoed through his mind. Was he not enough for you. What did Sae have that he didn't. You guys had hung out every day since Sae left, heck SAE LEFT. He LEFT YOU. But not Rin, Rin was here every day for you. He ate lunch with you, listened to your problems, comforted you when you were sad, and cooked for you when you were sick. He saw you as a beacon of his heart, a light in his dimmest days, but here you were saying you saw him as a brother? Sae had everything, a promising career, skill, fans, but most of all he had you.

But no not this time Sae would not get away with everything again.

After dinner, Rin walked you home ignoring how your hands would occasionally touch.

"Thank you for tonight Rin. It's been really fun. And thanks for always hanging out with me. You know sometimes, you remind me of Sae."

Rin was fuming at that last part, but he chose to ignore it, he had to play his cards right if he was going to win your heart.

"I'm like Sae right? But better, I think I'm honestly funnier and more handsome than Sae... but listen, do you think I could stay the night? It's pretty late and I'm a bit too tired to walk home and I have a game tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh of course you can Rin! Come come, it'll be fun like a post-movie sleepover!" You dragged him into your apartment and set down your bet running off to your room to change. You had both decided to blow up the air mattress and let Rin sleep in your room with you like you and Sae did when you were younger. Ring Ring

"Oh Sae's calling ! He must have checked into his hotel." You quickly picked up the phone to see Sae's handsome face. " Hi baby, did you just get back to your Hotel?"

"Yep I just showed and now Im resting, how was your night?"

"It was good! Me and Rin hung out to see Barbie and then we met up with his friends at the dinner and It was sooo fun who knew Rinnie had funny friends."

"You've been hanging out with Rin a lot haven't you?"

"Yeah Rin lives so close we hang out all the time and-"

"Wait who's that behind you?"

Unbeknownst to you Rin's hair and shoulder were peaking into the frame. Sae knows you and Rin hung out but he didn't know Rin was sleeping over. Sae was no fool, he knew about Rin's little crush on his darling fiancé. He couldn't miss the longing glances of the younger Itoshi and the slight blushes every time you complimented him.

Rin jumped onto the bed right behind you. You could feel his chest against your back, the heat of his breath right in your ear and his hand resting on your thigh.

"Hey Sae. Me and (y/n) are having a sleepover." You could feel your ears getting hotter with the closeness of Rin.

You loved Sae but you couldn't ignore how the teal-haired boy made your heart race sometimes. As Rin got older you began to notice him more than just "Sae's brother" he was getting taller more fit and overall handsome.

"Yeah I didn't want him to go home so late so he's sleeping over !"

"In...your bed?" "No silly, over on the air mattress."

Sae couldn't deny the anger he felt towards his brother for trying to get closer to you but also towards you for being so naive to his brother's advances. Unfortunately for Sae his next actions would drive you straight into Rin's arms.

"Well, I'm pretty tired now. Im going to go to sleep."

"What already? We haven't talked in two weeks I miss-"

"Stop annoying me and being so clingy, bye."

And with a click, Sae hung up the phone, without even saying I love you.

You stared at the phone in your hand, heart feeling heavy and eyes welling with tears. You dipped your head down to let your hair cover your face in an attempt to hide your crying from RIn. "He didn't even say I love you. He hasn't called me in weeks, he called me annoying and clingy. It feels like he doesn't even love me anymore."

Rin couldn't help but feel a little guilty at this, maybe he pushed you and Sae too far. He wanted you but not like this, he didn't want to make you cry.

Your silence turned to tears and tears turned to sobs. Rin grabbed you in his arms holding you tight in hopes to soothe you. He let you cry in his arms whispering soft nothings about how everything would be okay.

You pulled away from Rin's neck seeing the wet marks of your tears all over his shoulder. "I don't even think Sae wants to marry me anymore, he probably has someone else in Spain."

"Good."

Rin's short answer shocked you out of your emotions. You stared up at him with betrayal before he continued.

"Good because he didn't deserve you. (y/n) you deserve the world. Sae should be kissing the ground you walk on. He should never make you cry and never make you feel hurt. (y/n) I'm so sorry about Sae. He's a jerk and he's been like that since we were kids. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met with a smile that could warm even the coldest parts of the world. You are driven, passionate and someone I wouldn't hesitate to marry. If I was the one that put that ring on your finger we would be married the next day. I wouldn't care what the wedding is like as long as I'd know your mine forever."

Rin felt his heart pounding. He had basically outed himself to you and laid his feelings on the line.

You looked up at Rin with a newfound admiration and leaned up to him. "Do you mean that? Do you mean every word?" Your eyes glistened with what Rin could only see as hope and desperation. Desperation for a love you had been missing for a while.

Rin leaned down wrapping his arm further around your waist. Your lips met as you both melted into a sweet kiss. A kiss filled with a craving for love. After a few moments, you broke apart and stared deep into each other's eyes.

"How about you take this off and we can continue," Rin said motioning to your engagement ring. You looked down at the sparkling diamond.

This was the ring Sae proposed to you with, but he was in Spain now and here you were with this last reminder of him that kept you tied down. You took off the ring and placed it in your bedside drawer. Sliding yourself back into Rin's arms and closing your eyes.

Rin smiled looking down at your sleeping form. You were finally his .

[lemoncrushh]

Seven Six Five - Part Three

Summary: They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again.

Warnings: smut, body image issues, angst. 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Enemies to Lovers. This was originally written and posted in 2020, right before the pandemic, so the story takes place then with flashbacks of 2013. Harry Styles x Plus Size OC, written in third person.

Part Three Word Count: 3.5k+

STORY PAGE

27 February, 2020 - New York, NY, USA

Bronwyn had tossed and turned all night. After returning home from her meeting with Harry, she’d started feeling a pang in her gut. She’d worried that perhaps she had been a little hard on him, and maybe even downright cruel. She’d thought about the look in his eyes when he’d asked her about that night, and how he’d sincerely sounded clueless. Perhaps she’d had it all wrong, or maybe he’d just been a different person then, seven years ago. People do grow, in fact. And maybe...just maybe, he’d been looking for a way to apologise.

When she’d sat at her computer with a glass of wine, hoping to distract her mind and get some work done, she’d soon found the attempt futile. Instead, she’d opened the website where her article was published. She reread it, looking at the photos she’d taken and scanning through the comments. They were all positive, many true, die-hard fans giving their thanks and input. A few were also from newer fans, people who’d only recently discovered him and kicked themselves for not listening to him sooner.

Nobody called him fake. Nobody said he was a phony. It was all just the opposite. Everyone honestly adored him, and called him things like “genuine”, “a class act” and “the kind of man I hope my son turns out to be.”

Setting her laptop aside, Bronwyn walked to her tiny kitchen table where she’d left the tote bag Harry had given her. Slipping her hand inside, she pulled out the vinyl record and unwrapped the cellophane. Surprised to find it was a gatefold, she examined the fish-eye photos on the cover and the inside. When she pulled the record out of the sleeve, something else fell out and onto the floor. Picking it up, Bronwyn saw that it was a folded poster which she quickly opened, letting out a cackle.

“Oh my God, you’ve got to be joking!” she exclaimed, looking at the photos on either side.

Shaking her head, she placed the record on her turntable and dropped the needle. She recognised the intro to the first song, having listened to it a handful of times that weekend on Spotify. By the middle of the song, she found herself singing along to the lyrics. Then sitting down on the sofa, she inspected the poster again, the side where Harry was laid out on the floor...naked.

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered to herself.

She realised nothing was really showing. It was a tasteful pose, and his hand and thigh were covering his unmentionables. It was art, and she could respect that. But she didn’t like the way it made her feel.

Or maybe she did.

Folding the poster back up, Bronwyn slipped it back into the album sleeve and grabbed her glass of wine.

Perhaps it had been the chardonnay, or maybe the half a dozen listens to Harry’s album that had kept her awake most of the night. But nevertheless, Bronwyn was determined to do some actual work when she finally got out of bed and brushed her teeth. No thinking of Harry Styles today, nor her history with him. No listening to his music. His album was tucked away in her vinyl collection, along with that ridiculously enticing poster…

It was mid-afternoon when Bronwyn finally showered. After getting loads of work done - thanks to the promise she’d kept to herself - including some housework such as cleaning her bathroom, dusting and watering her plants, she took a nice, long, steaming shower. Slipping into a striped tee and a pair of denim overalls, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Deciding it was time for tea, she was just about to walk to the kitchen when she heard the buzzer for her building. She wasn’t expecting company, nor a package, so she was curious who rang.

“‘Ello?” she called into the intercom.

“Hi Bronwyn. It’s Harry.”

Shocked, she blurted the first word that came to mind. “Who?”

“Forgot me again already,” he laughed. “It’s Harry Styles.”

Clearing her throat, Bronwyn tried to get her bearings. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

“Well, I’d like to come in, if I may.”

“Um…” she pondered for a moment, looking around the room. It wasn’t as though he was going to walk into a mess and think her a slob or anything. She’d just cleaned, and her flat was tidy as a pin. “Okay.”

Bronwyn hesitantly pressed the button to buzz Harry into the building. Opening the door, she stepped out into the hallway, just in time to see him enter and look up at her from the bottom of the stairs. This time, he wasn’t trying to be inconspicuous in all black. Instead, he’d gone a similar route to his Tiny Desk performance, choosing a striped sweater vest, pinstripe shirt and brown trousers. He was again carrying a tote bag.

“Hi,” he smiled.

“Hey...how did you...find out where I live?” Bronwyn asked.

“Same way I got your number.”

“Oh. Well, um...what are you doing here?”

“Well, after we parted ways yesterday, I got the feeling that something was wrong. I just couldn’t shake it, wondering what I’d done,” Harry explained, taking the stairs to meet her. “Then it dawned on me.”

Stopping at the second to top step, Harry was nearly eye level with Bronwyn. She swallowed hard as she got a hefty whiff of his cologne.

“What’s that?” she mumbled.

“One of the things I remembered most about you, when we’d originally met all those years ago...was that you loved vinyl. It was something we had in common in fact, as I was just starting to grow my own collection. So my initial thought had been to bring you a vinyl copy of my album. But I see now that that was very presumptuous of me, if not a little pretentious. Of course you wouldn’t be interested in that. You like the old stuff, the classics.”

Her knitted eyebrows relaxing, Bronwyn’s expression softened as Harry handed her the tote bag.

“Brought these for you. Thought you might like them.”

Taking the bag, Bronwyn stared incredulously at Harry before peeking inside.

“Why did you-?”

“I offended you. Clearly,” said Harry, holding up his hand. “And I apologise. It’s my peace offering.”

If you only knew…

“Um…” Bronwyn faltered again, “I don’t suppose you’d like to come in for a cuppa.”

“Can’t stay long,” replied Harry, his lips slowly stretching into a smile. “But...that would be nice.”

With a short nod, Bronwyn turned for the doorway of her flat, Harry following. Then shutting the door behind him, she watched as his eyes perused her tiny studio apartment. There was a half wall separating her bed, a beaded curtain used for the rest of the wall. A small desk sat in the corner beside the window which was lined with plants. Beside the sofa stood her turntable, her record collection underneath. Harry took a moment to inspect it all, taking it all in whilst Bronwyn headed for the kitchen to start the kettle.

“This is really lovely, Bronwyn.”

The sound of her name from his lips made her insides jump. She looked up from the counter to see Harry walk over to the large window and gently touch the leaves of a plant.

“Thanks.”

His long legs strode across the room where he stopped and pointed to the beaded curtain and grinned.

“That is very you,” he said.

“It is?” she asked, feeling herself blush.

Harry nodded. “I reckon if I had to imagine your place, I’d picture it exactly like this.”

“Um...I’m not sure how to take that.”

His audibly pleasing laugh echoed as he walked over to the turntable.

“Do you mind?” he gestured.

“No, sure, go ahead.”

Harry grabbed the tote bag from the counter where Bronwyn had left it and pulled out the records. Choosing the Donny Hathaway Live album, he placed it gently on the turntable. As the music started, the familiar light crackling that only came from listening to vinyl, Harry turned for the kitchen, an easy smile on his face.

“I like live albums, don’t you?” he inquired.

“Sometimes.”

“It’s great because you feel like you’re there. Even when it was recorded forty years ago.”

“Hmm, yes,” Bronwyn nodded. “Except when it’s not really a hundred percent live.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Like I heard somewhere that KISS Alive! wasn’t actually all live. The producer or engineer, or maybe Gene Simmons decided some of it wasn’t clear enough, so they overdubbed it with studio clips. I don’t think some of the audience sounds were even real.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Harry pouted as he leant against the counter.

“Yeah. Still a good album though.”

“Have you listened to this one before?” he asked, pointing to the record player.

Bronwyn shook her head. “I haven’t. I like Donny Hathaway, but haven’t listened to very much of his stuff.”

“You’ll like this,” Harry declared with a nod.

Though the first song wasn’t even complete yet, Bronwyn somehow knew he was right. Not because she already liked it so far, but because she knew Harry had good taste. She remembered the scattered conversations about music they’d had that night…

The kettle whistled then, bringing her out of her reverie, and Bronwyn busied herself with preparing the tea.

“Um, how do you take it?” she called, seeing as Harry had made his way back to the turntable and was browsing through her record collection.

“Just lemon if you have it,” replied Harry, his head down as he studied an old jazz album.

Moments later, Bronwyn announced that the tea was ready and set Harry’s cup on the counter.

“Thanks,” he said. Inspecting a Linda Ronstadt record, he held it up. “This is one I need for my collection.”

“Yes you do,” Bronwyn agreed, carrying her cup and leaning against the edge of the counter. “It’s one of my absolute favourites.”

“I just fancy her in those roller skates and socks.”

Bronwyn couldn’t help but laugh. “Then you’ll also need the one where she’s on the beach and her nipples are showing.”

Turning his head, Harry gave a smirk. “Oh, I do have that one.”

“Figures.”

“Oh, here’s a gem!” Harry exclaimed, holding up a Bill Evans record. “I have this, too.”

Biting her lip, Bronwyn felt the heat rise on her neck as though Harry had just discovered a special secret.

“That’s my writing album. I play it a lot when I need inspiration. Or when I’m reading.”

“Wonderful,” Harry commented softly before returning it to the pile.

Last, he picked up a sleeve of Stevie Nicks’ album The Other Side of the Mirror.

“Another brilliant choice,” he said, noticing the item was light. “Where’s the record?”

Bronwyn frowned. “It got damaged in the move to New York. I have all of hers except that one. I’ve been meaning to replace it, but never did.”

“A shame,” Harry muttered. Then he rose from his spot on the floor. “Sorry, I guess I should drink that tea now.”

“It might be cold, do you want-”

Harry shook his head after taking a sip. “It’s fine.” Then he smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, unable to tear her eyes from his face. “Um...I don’t reckon I’ve ever had anyone in here who dove straight for my vinyls.”

The dimples dipping deeper in his cheeks, Harry looked down at his cup. “We have quite a lot in common.”

“Hmm…” Bronwyn nodded.

“Of course, I knew that when I met you.”

Grinning slightly, Bronwyn set her cup on the counter. She’d been wanting to say something, the feeling that she’d had the night before whilst listening to his album. Now with him stood in her flat, she knew she needed to say it face to face.

“Harry, I’m afraid I wasn’t very nice to you yesterday.”

“Wha’?”

“When you gave me your record...I thought you were just being an arsehole celebrity plugging his work.”

“I understand, what’s why I-”

Bronwyn held up her hand. “I read the comments on my article, and so many people are fond of you, some even saying that they’ve met you and you’re the nicest person. I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions.”

“I can see how you would think-”

“Harry, just accept my apology so we can let it lie.”

Pursing his lips, Harry nodded. “Apology accepted.”

“Good.” Bronwyn brought her teacup to her lips and took a slow sip as she watched Harry step around the counter to meet her.

“Now tha’ that’s done,” he said, his voice suddenly deeper, “can we address the elephant in the room?”

Lowering her cup, Bronwyn widened her eyes. “What elephant?”

“What’s still left unsaid between us…” Harry gestured.

Bronwyn shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because...it was seven years ago. Let’s just forget it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” said Harry, his face expressionless.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes and turned for the stove, but Harry grabbed her arm.

“Why’d you leave?” he asked softly. “I thought you wanted...me.”

Taking a deep breath, Bronwyn blinked slowly. “I thought I did, too. I mean...I did.”

“I had a great time, didn’t you?”

“Yes. You still remember?”

“Of course,” Harry grinned, stepping around to stand in front of her. “I remember everythin’. Your musical knowledge that could rival anyone else’s I knew, the way you could hold your own and drink everybody under the table, your infectious laugh…”

Her lips spreading, Bronwyn let out a hearty chuckle.

“That’s the one,” Harry remarked. “And most of all I remember the kiss.”

“You do?”

For years that kiss had continued to haunt her dreams. It had been the most amazing, perfect kiss. Right before he’d asked her to leave with him. Before…

“Hold that thought!” Harry held up a finger before rushing into the living room.

She watched him take the record off the turntable and place it on side B, letting the needle drop. She hadn’t even noticed the music had stopped, she had been so caught off guard by Harry’s kiss comment. With a satisfied grin, he made his way back to the kitchen and stood before her again, just where he’d been.

“Where were we?” he beamed.

“Um...I dunno…” Bronwyn said, running a hand through her curls. She noticed his cologne was making her a bit dizzy. “You were saying how you remember…”

“Ah, right, the kiss.”

“You smell really nice.” It was involuntary. Word vomit. Still, Harry chuckled, making her feel warm all over.

“Thank you.”

Harry leant in, his lips nearly brushing against her skin. She could feel his breath on her. Awkwardly, she touched his wrists as he rested his hands on either side of her on the counter. He searched for her gaze as she looked down, focusing on how his hips were pressed against hers. She was certainly trapped, just as she’d been that night in the alcove. The rush of adrenaline combined with the memory, as well as his intoxicating aroma, made her light-headed. Bronwyn slid her hands up his arms, and just as she lifted her head, his lips found hers. They kissed soft and short kisses at first, until he pulled her closer and darted his tongue inside. Grabbing a fist full of his sweater, she let out a tiny whimper before releasing herself from the kiss and pushing her palms against his chest.

“No. I mean...sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Harry breathed.

“I just...I can’t.”

“Why not? Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No. It’s not that. I just...can’t be that woman.”

“What woman?” Harry inquired, furrowing his brows.

“The one who wakes up alone in your hotel bed after a shag and you’re nowhere to be found because you couldn’t handle saying goodbye.”

“We’re in your flat, love,” Harry giggled.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

With a sigh, Bronwyn pushed against him again, trying to wriggle herself free from his body. Stepping back, Harry allowed her space as he stared at her incredulously.

“This...it can’t happen, Harry,” declared Bronwyn. “I realised some things that night...that I just can’t get over.”

“What things? What happened?” Harry reached for her, but she waved him away.

“Please. I really would rather not talk about it. It would just...it’s too painful.”

Harry tilted his head. “But love, if we don’t talk about it, how can I-”

“I think you should go.”

“Bronwyn-”

She lowered his head, trying her best not to cry. “Please.”

With a heavy sigh, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. “Alright.”

Bronwyn stood frozen in the kitchen as Harry made his way toward the door. Donny Hathaway continued to serenade, punctuating the scene when Harry stopped and turned around.

“The number I called you from...that’s my personal cell,” he offered. “If...you decide you wanna talk, you can call me. Or text me. I’ll be all ears.”

Bronwyn nodded, looking down at her hands. Harry opened the door and held it open as he looked at her again.

“I really hope you do, Bronwyn. I mean...no pressure, but…” Harry paused with another sigh, “I’d really like to finish that kiss.”

With that, Harry stepped out and shut the door behind him, leaving Bronwyn in the kitchen with the first of many tears to wet her cheeks.

20 August, 2013 - London, England, UK

Her entire body was on fire. She didn’t remember ever being this turned on. Not that she had a lot of experience, but...well she’d had enough. But this...this was different.

His lips had moved from hers to her neck, nibbling seductively as she tried to keep her balance against the wall of the alcove. His right hand that had been at her waist had made its way to her bum where it cupped her and urged her to lift her thigh.

“Harry…” she breathed.

His wet mouth traveled to her ear then where he whispered her name.

“Leave with me,” he requested.

“What?”

“Come with me to my hotel. Stay with me tonight.”

With a quiet yes and moan of agreement, Bronwyn turned her head to meet his lips once again.

“Let me um…” she stammered, “I need to get my bag and camera. Meet me...by the lifts? Fifteen minutes?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded as he stood straight, adjusting himself. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Tugging on her dress, Bronwyn gave him a sexy smile before a quick peck on the lips.

“See you soon,” she murmured, heading down the hall.

Finding her camera quickly, she took a trip to the loo to freshen her makeup and get her bearings. Looking in the mirror, she saw a right mess staring back at her.

“Oh Bronwyn, look at you,” she tsked. “You already looked absolutely fucked.”

Applying just a touch of cosmetics, she finger-combed her hair the best she could, trying to tame the frizzies and lift the flat parts. Then after a tiny spritz of perfume, she stood back and examined herself.

She’d never been terribly fond of her body. In fact, she’d always thought herself fat. But tonight...she felt pretty, beautiful even. Harry made her feel that way. He’d even whispered how he found her sexy whilst they’d made out in the alcove. And if someone like him wanted to sleep with her...well, she couldn’t be all bad.

Dropping her lipstick in her bag, Bronwyn slung it over her shoulder and pushed the bathroom door open. Halfway down the hall, towards the lifts, she heard voices. Slowing her steps, she came to a large door that was ajar. Peeking inside, she saw a circle of boys, and quickly recognised them as Harry and his bandmates. Harry seemed to have his back to her, and she couldn’t make out their words. That is, until she heard her name.

28 February, 2020 - New York, NY, USA

12:13 AM. Bronwyn kept clicking the button on her phone to check the time. She’d been doing that for the last forty-five minutes. Perhaps it was too late to call. He might be asleep.

But maybe not.

She didn’t like the feeling in her stomach. It turned and flipped like one of those children’s toys with the water inside. After Harry’d left, she’d let herself cry on her bed until she’d fallen asleep. When she’d risen, she’d barely eaten a few crackers and cheese before settling on a glass of wine and some tunes.

Eyeing the tote bag on the counter, Bronwyn had pulled out the other vinyl Harry had brought her. It was Wings - Back To The Egg. While she was a fan of Paul McCartney and had several of his albums, this was one of a few she’d been missing. The notion that Harry would have known that was ludicrous, but it warmed her heart just the same.

After listening to the entire album, and then the Donny Hathaway one again, Bronwyn had resolved that she might have been an idiot. Maybe Harry wasn’t a phony. Maybe she didn’t hate him anymore. And maybe...just maybe...she actually kind of liked him.

Pressing the button one last time, she unlocked her phone, finding Harry’s number easily. Her head and heart pounded as she heard it ring.

“Hi.”

Bronwyn thought she might throw up as she swallowed hard. “Hi.”

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“I didn’t either.”

Eeeek! What do you think happened??

Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[semper-legens]

125. Nimona, by ND Stevenson

Owned: No, library Page count: 256 My summary: Notorious villain Ballister Blackheart wants to strike a blow at the Institution who failed him so many years ago. He's logical, precise, efficient...so when anarchic shapeshifter Nimona appears on the scene, he's thrown into disarray. When the pair of them discover an Institute conspiracy, they have to scramble to protect the world. But what else will they uncover in their search for the truth? And will they both survive it? My rating: 5/5 My commentary:

Nimona! After the movie came out, it seemed like a lot of people were suddenly getting back into Nimona, which I 100% endorse. I read this a while ago, it was (highly!) recommended by a friend, and I devoured it in one sitting, if memory holds. That was a good few years ago, though, and in the intervening time I had forgotten most of the story, so when I saw it drift through the library I couldn't resist picking it up for myself. And then going out and buying a copy. Turns out this book is really good, who knew?

I just love the dynamic between our two main characters here. Nimona is a spunky girl, naturally anti-authoritarian and punky, with a crude sense of humour and a tendency towards ruthlessness. She just appears to Ballister Blackheart, local Villain who is working to take down the oppressive Institution, who has a strict sense of justice and moral code. Naturally, despite their common goals, they are at odds as to method. Blackheart is exactly my favourite kind of character - an angsty man who is doing what he believes to be just and right despite the entire world being against him. Also he's totally in love with the Institute's Hero, Ambrosius Goldenloin. And Nimona is just anarchic and chaotic, totally willing to cut that Gordian knot and get down to brass tacks. She's really fun to read, and their dynamic as a pairing, with Blackheart slowly learning to like her and Nimona almost becoming more domestic in his presence, is very cute. Their arc is well-earned, and despite it being heartbreaking I really like that Nimona just straight-up disappears at the end. This isn't the kind of world where characters get neat happy endings tied up in a bow, and it would have felt disingenuous to include something like that. Nevertheless, the ending feels satisfying, and that's always great to see.

Meanwhile, the other reason this story is cool - it's very, very easy to read as a queer metaphor. See, Nimona's a shapeshifter, and doesn't really have a default form so much. She's a raging monster or dragon just as much as she's a cat, or a human. The fact that ND Stevenson is himself trans makes this way more interesting. Bodies being fluid, that identity shifting constantly and being perceived as monstrous by an oppressive authority, becoming the monster because that's all anyone has ever expected of you, the definitely-gay Ballister going from perceiving himself as a Villain to a Hero, Ballister being cast out because he's not as palatable a hero as the golden-haired Goldenloin, the Institute being the ones to break up Ballister and Goldenloin's relationship initially…there's so much going on here with gender and sexuality, and it's absolutely delicious. And yet, it's never preachy with it. The metaphor is present, and it's not particularly hidden, but it's never so explicit to feel glaring or out of place. It's very well-done, and I have to commend Stevenson for it!

Next up, back to 1800s America, and a Black community struggling to survive.

[muffinsandpages]

Making a Robe à la française

Because I want to :)

Part I

We all have those dream projects we keep coming back to every now and then. Mine usually change every few months and so get discarded, but reconstructing an historical gown is something that has been living in the back of my mind for years, maybe even before I started sewing.

Ideally, I'd start with something more reasonable, like the Regency period. But I can't help obsessing over 18th century gowns, especially over decorated Robes à la française. I just keep getting back to those.

My mental health is... terrible, to say the least, so I already know that this project is going to take ages for me to complete it. If I manage to complete it at all. But I found that external validation helps, which is why I decided to blog about it.

And so... here goes nothing!

The inspiration

One of the reasons why it took me quite a while to get started was that I didn't really know what I wanted my final result to look like. I have never wanted to make a specific historical reproduction, but you gotta start somewhere.

A couple of years ago (like, more than four) I found these old curtains in my gradma's old house. I I thought they would be perfect a robe, but I still didn't know where to start.

Luckily, mindlessly scrolling intagram isn't always useless (well, it is except for this one instance, but I digress), because I came across this dress on @/katestrasdin's page

After some digging (aka a google image reverse search) I found out the dress is owned by LACMA. Despite being the second image that comes up when you google "Robe a la Polonaise" (via Wikipedia) it's described by the museum as a Woman's Dress and Petticoat (Robe à la Française)" from Spain, circa 1775.

My goal is to make something similar to this, as far as decorations go. The structure should be more "à la Française", so without the draped back à la Polonaise and with a floor lenght skirt. But we'll see.

I'll try to use a patten from Norah Waugh's "The Cut of Women's Clothes" from a 1740-50 Sack Dress.

Since I had no idea how such a pattern worked I started by tracing it on a piece of paper and draping it on a small mannequin, just to have a rough idea of what I was getting myself into. The process gave me flashbacks to the Alexander McQueen paper doll I built in lockdown (if you have a few minutes to a few hours to spare, please check it out here). Nevertheless, I now feel a bit more confident about the whole thing. It can be done

The undergarments (and my plan of action)

This kind of dress needs to be built on the undergarments/understructures. That means they they need to be made before the actual dress. At the same time, making undergarments that are (a) never going to be seen by anyone and (b) pretty difficult to make isn't the most exciting thing in the world.

Weirdly enough, I already made a pair of stays in 2021. They're far from perfect, quite ugly and very much not historically accurate. But the shape is there and they'll do the job, at least for now.

The other most important part are the pocket hoops. It's what I should work on next, but I think I'll actually make a mockup of the dress first, as i want to see how much volume I'll need. Then I'll make the pocket hoops.

Then I'll probably make a mockup of the petticoat to use as an under-petticoat. At this point I should know whether I have enough fabric to make the main petticoat of the same fabric of the dress or not. Then the main petticoat itself and then, hopefully, the dress.

Somewhere in between all of this I should make a shift as well, but it's not vital for the process, so I suspect I'll end up procrastinating it as much as possible

Easy peasy, right?

Right, wish me luck :)

Other stuff

It's not going to be historically accurate. I am starting from historical sources, and I'll try to follow them as much as possible, but in the end I just want to have fun and make a nice dress without too much stress. I will keep the hand stitching to the bare minimum and I'm pretty certain that my fabric is synthetic :)

I'm going to keep it as cheap as possible. Reuse, recycle and r...ice? Idk, you get the idea. I am not invested enough to put hundreds of euros in a project that I'll wear maybe once. And I think that sewing and crafts should be more accessible anyways

Resources

The Cut of Women's Clothes: 1600-1930 by Norah Waugh

Woman's Dress and Petticoat (Robe à la française) (LACMA)

[astromaki]

part 3 of second choice ; ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1617 words)

part 1. part 2. (previous) part 4.

tw ; angst, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, degradation, divorce, mention of alcohol, bad language, slightly suggestive ?

EXTRA INFOS ;; all the characters are aged up obviously (they are 30 here), the point of view of this third part is from shoto todoroki !

confrontation. [7 : 16 pm]

a week has passed since he came home that night drunk. that he had begged momo to stay with him. that he had accidentally seen those divorce papers crumpled by your hands.

momo had seen them too that night, and yet she and shoto had not commented on them. good, he wasn't in the mood anyway.

it had become almost official, even the media had it on their front pages. "one of japan's richest couples on the verge of divorce?", "billionaire todoroki single again?" "y/n, will the heir.ess of their father's company return to being a lawyer?"

he would have liked to say that he cared what you thought about it. if you cried, screamed, were you hurt ? but that would be lying, you were the least of his worries.

and then, wasn't it what he wanted from the beginning ?

that you would end up hating him so much that you would leave him. that he could finally be free of the weight that you represented every day.

and yet his signature was still missing.

"you can't even love your partner properly, and now i hear through the media that a divorce is on the way ? you're pathetic son. i knew i should have married them to touya. " enji's heart-attack voice echoed terribly through the phone, which made shoto sigh. he was even pretty sure he could hear it from across town.

"calm down." shoto said in an annoyed tone. "your marriage isn't a success either, so keep your remarks to yourself. bye. "

"you idiot, don't you dare hanging up on me. i don't care if you can't satisfy your s/o, i don't care if they feel bad about this arranged marriage either. but y/n y/l/n comes from a very famous lawyer's family, so get a divorce and the amount of money you have to give will be huge. "

"i manage them, it will not be a problem. i have to go now. "

the young man finally returned to your room, looking exhausted, his tie loosened and ready to down a few glasses of whiskey.

however, he was surprised to see you. dressed in a beautiful versace dress/suit, you were glowing. well no, he meant that you looked... good.

though, it was the first time he took the time to look at you. to admire you.

the young man finally met your indifferent gaze through the mirror you were standing in front of. that gaze that was so joyful and sparkling at the beginning of your marriage, full of hope to transform this purely financial union into a love marriage.

but that look, devoid of emotion, almost made shoto, Japan's most ambitious ceo, doubt himself. almost.

"i'm surprised you're still using my card to splurge. how much is this one? $1000 ? $2000 ?"

he was tired, exhausted. nut the truth is he was in the mood to be a pain in the ass tonight.

"$ 8,330. plus the $800 pair. " you replied coldly.

your answer was like a slap in the face to your husband. not because of the price, he didn't give a fuck about this.

but this tone right there. it wasn't like you. you were normally so gentle, patient even with the worst of the crap he put you through. that naive kindness that made him want to vomit was completely gone. he didn't expect such a turn of events.

"so you decide to divorce me, but first you want to empty my bank account? you're exactly as I imagined." his look that used to reflect nothing but fatigue was now full of contempt for you.

you finally faced him. shit, he couldn't help but find you beautiful.

"here todoroki, let's talk about the divorce. " you began, quietly walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a stack of documents. "i've signed it, sign it, and i'll take it to my lawyers first thing in the morning.

he snatched them out of your hand and threw them across the room. you didn't even flinch, you even held his gaze. poker face.

a loud silence fell between you. a long silence, uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. heavy and light. sensible and meaningless.

"what's all this about ? who put you up to this ?"

a wry laugh escaped your lips. your new behavior puzzled shoto. he loved and hated what he had in front of him. a challenge.

"you think i need someone to make me realize that i deserve better than an asshole like you ? fuck, let me laugh. "

your hand went to retrieve a piece of paper from your purse. and it was slammed hard against his chest. bakugou’s business card.

he found your face inches from his, your warm breath gently caressing his cheeks. a scent of whiskey filled his nostrils. you were not sober.

"how many drinks are you on? " he asked quietly.

"so now do you care if i downed a whole bottle or not ? oh please shut up. because now that you mention it, your friend bakugou katsuki may have hired me. to be his company's business lawyer. isn't that funny? "

you turned your back on him, unaware of the state you'd put him in. but damn, it was like he'd just been slapped in the face. nausea took over his whole body, his legs became heavy and weak in few seconds only. and he knew damn well it wasn't fatigue.

so you were leaving him, but on top of that you were going to work for his number one competitor ?

he didn't know what hurt more, the knowledge that bakugo had won one of the most competent lawyers in the field or that you were leaving him for him ? was he jealous ? surely not, it was another feeling that repulsed him. he didn't even know.

"have you lost your tongue todoroki ?"

todoroki ? since when did you call him by his last name ? where are the darlings or my heart that used to annoy him so much ?

you finish getting ready, now wearing your long jacket. he had lost his tongue indeed, he didn't know what to say to you. what to do.

y/n y/l/n, you had succeeded in putting your husband to the wall.

but it was only for a moment. he quickly, too quickly, pulled himself together. his usual irritated expression returned.

"you don't see that he's using you to get ahead of me ? i thought you were smarter than that. "

he took a step forward, slowly but surely. like a predator approaching its prey.

"he doesn't care about you. just like no one has ever cared about you, not me, not him and not your bourgeois family. that's why they put you in a loveless marriage so easily. "

a mirthless laugh escaped from his lips.

"y/n, this bastard doesn't give a damn about you. "

you tried to move towards him, ready to slap him, but the alcohol made you capsize and stumble on your carpet. he arrived just in time to support you with his muscular arms. an annoyed sigh resounded in the large room when your sob reached his ears.

nevertheless, a petty smile stretched his lips. there you were again, the fragile and unassertive y/n finally in his arms.

that bakugo had managed to turn your brain inside out. yet shoto knew you better than anyone else. he knew you. better than you knew yourself. you were that puzzle he had managed to decipher long ago.

"that's not true. kacchan wouldn't do that...", you whisper.

"you know i'm right, sweetheart. you know i'm the only one who's honest with you. my love for you is all you need. "

his muscular hand gradually, peacefully, came to caress your back to take off the buttons of your dress. his lips came to meet yours, to draw you into a long, languid, unsentimental kiss. your lips asked for more, your whole soul asked for more of shoto. more of this man for whom your heart never stopped beating. even if his was vibrating for another woman.

you wanted to feel his lips making love to you sensually, sincerely.

you just wanted him to love you for one night. one fucking night.

shoto was ecstatic. he could already see himself opening a bottle of champagne with his father, to celebrate the divorce that would never happen. tonight, shoto had brought out his best acting skills. millions were at stake. he had brought out his best kiss. he had never touched you like that. so gently, so carefully.

he had never called you by any affectionate nickname.

he has done too much to keep you around.

and you were drunk, not stupid.

you finally stood up, moving away from him, reluctantly. nothing he said was true. from his love for you, to his accusations against katsuki.

awkwardly, you put your dress/suit back on properly.

"i have a meeting with my future employer mr. bakugou tonight. i'll be late. don't wait for me, i'll sleep at the hotel tonight, with your card. "

a red color came to his cheeks. anger ? sadness ? jealousy ?

he had never seen you so determined, so proud. and that attracted him. he was going to lose millions, no matter what. but it was you who was going to escape him. for that bastard bakugou katsuki.

the nice little y/n was no longer shoto todoroki's.

AHHH omg sorry sorry i told you i can't do a fluffy end!! >< (comments and reblogs are appreciated <3)

🔖 tag list ; @nveusii @angelofthorr @missmolliemoo @jazzylove @loki-an-idiot @deepestranchgoopdeputy @mhasimp666 @shotorozu @chscklvr @devilsbooksworld @marshmallow12345 (ones in bold cannot be tagged)

[zmediaoutlet]

I'm a big fan of your spn work and there is SO much of it, so I was wondering: what are a few of your personal favorites fics you've written (and why are they your faves!) to give me a place to start?

Wow, that's an interesting question! I don't know quite how to respond -- I mean, you could go to my works page and sort by kudos, I guess, and you'd see what other people think, haha. And sometimes my favorite fics of mine are just the most recent ones, because they reflect how I'm currently thinking about the canon/characters -- but sometimes my favorite fics are the ones that I think are a little different. So I guess it just... depends on what you're after. I'll pick five of the spn-verse ones that aren't J2, I guess, just to be going on with -- and this is with the understanding that I don't really believe in 'favorites', haha --

to dream of the next - wincest. This is the one where Sam's been pining for so long that he doesn't really have the strength to pretend he isn't, anymore. It was fun to write Sam's stripped-down weariness here, but it's also interesting to see Dean through Sam's semi-oblivious eyes -- where Sam's so certain that they can't move to that next stage that he can't see Dean seeing him, so to speak. Plus I think some of the writing is pretty. I like the middle section best, I think.

won't let you let me down so easily - Sam/Brady, Sam/various. This is the one where a possessed Brady makes Sam get gangbanged by a bunch of unscrupulous frat boys. Definitely inspired by a fratx video, lol, but -- despite the fact that it's 'just porn' and it was definitely written for a donator who likes to see Sam raped and so it didn't really matter too much if the premise for why was rich -- I really ended up enjoying writing Brady's headspace. He's a weird character and it was fun to make this work for *him*, even as Sam dwindled away into object. If you're not into the rapey bit then the first half might at least be interesting to you, for Brady's POV.

asceticism - wincest. If you click and see 'watersports' and rear back, I would urge you not to -- unless it's a like Oh No Gross squick, lol. I really think some of the internal thought processes I wrote for Dean here are about the best I've done. Charity fics/specific prompts are interesting to write because the restrictions given by the prompt create a fertile space for creativity. A lot of people have said that they enjoyed it despite the piss, lol -- that's because it's not about the piss, at all, it's about the mindset that makes the piss possible. I feel very tender for Dean here.

someday we'll go all the way (let's play two series) - Dean/Deacon, gencest. This is the second of my Dean/Deacon stories -- the first one makes an entirely-possible-inside-canon space for Dean/Deacon to have happened; this second one posits an AU where Dean stays at Deacon's house for most of the Stanford era, and when Jessica dies then Sam has to come out to Arkansas to find him. I really like the feel of this story. The Sam POV section is probably my favorite but I appreciate seeing Dean and Deacon's POVs as well -- in part because it does still feel possible, and still fits in the rest of the show's world. Plus it's always nice to give Dean someone who loves him. He doesn't have enough of those.

Elegy, wincest, Dean/John. One of my 'full house of wincest' stories -- that is, a canon-feeling Dean and Sam relationship that nevertheless includes Dean/John somewhere in the background. My general fhow tag is kind of a guide to how I think about the D/J relationship in canon -- I guess I'll tag it on this post if you feel like clicking through on my blog -- but it's really most interesting to me for how it affects Sam and Dean in their present. This fic is all about that. Dean's prickly terror-shame-defiance is really accurate, I think, to early s2 -- Sam's slightly misguided sympathy/pity is accurate to his own early s2 vibes, haha -- but I like particularly how this fic uses the D/J moment to aaalmost violently reframe 'nice' wincest, the Sam/Dean that we've all bought into, into something bad and unhealthy. I mean, I don't like 'family horror show' blogging very much, but hell. It doesn't take much to skew the relationship we see into something very awful.

...anyway. Those are a few that I guess I'd point to if you want to get a vibe of me-as-a-writer. I didn't include any of the mildly popular ones, haha. But if you ever have an opinion on any of it, o anonymous friend, I'd love to hear your thoughts either here or in a comment! Looks like I've got 164 'just' spn fics so I guess there's a lot to choose from, but some of those less-read ones have a little something going for them. I hope! :)

[lustbile]

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

“A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

[roseromancebooks]

Title: To Tame a Dangerous Lord Author: Nicole Jordan Genre: Regency Romance  Spice Factor: ✩✩ Length: 443 pages Review: 3/5

I started reading this book a few days ago. Admittedly, it took me a day or so to get into it as the start felt a little bit slow. Nevertheless, once it truly begun I simply couldn’t put it down and read the majority of the book within an evening.   I’ll outline the things I didn’t like about the book, then end by detailing all the bits I did like. Before this though I'll provide a brief summary of the book.

The book revolves around a love story between Madeline Ellis and Rayne Kenyon, Earl of Haviland. This immediately appealed to me as I'm also most inclined to love stories concerning Dukes, Earls and Viscounts when seeking out a regency book. Shamefully, I do often put a book back onto a book shelf when I realise the book surrounds a second son (awful, I know... but I like what I like!). In this book, Madeline is a gentleman’s daughter, not the child of an aristocrat. In actuality, the book begins with her seeking employment as a governess or aid. Having lost both her parents, it’s within an inn that Miss Ellis first means the love interest, Rayne. After just meeting the two indulge themselves in a kiss to avoid the incessant persistence of the villain of the tale. Nevertheless, Nicole Jordan does quite well at distancing the characters enough that the indulgence of a kiss does not eradicate any sort of tension most enjoyed within forbidden regency romance novels. Without going into too much detail from here the pair inevitably end up in a marriage of convenience (agreeing not to love one another). From here, the book itself is involves Madeline trying become as seductive as possible in the bedroom to make her so desirable, Rayne will love her.

In true regency romance fashion Rayne has sworn himself against love, and Madeline secretly loves Rayne. This develops into a plethora of misunderstandings that eventually accumulate into the usual life threatening moment where the male love interest finally realises he has in fact has fallen in love.

What I didn’t like:

One thing I did not like about the book was the repeated mentions of how plain and ‘not beautiful’ Madeline was. This came from multiple characters within the book. Now this might not deter some, but I must admit, I am a sucker for fairytale, so I'd rather not be repeatedly reminded how plain the heroine is. Especially even by the love interest. This is rectified by the end of the book as he repeatedly states she’s beautiful, for me the damage was done. Another thing I didn’t like, as aforementioned, was the first few chapters. They felt quite dragged out in terms of the content itself. It felt lacking and I wasn’t committed in the story. I would have liked a more interesting background. 

I also did not understand why the characters liked each other at the beginning. I didn’t see the interest they had. I would have enjoyed some more development, particularly on the male love interests part, but once again I think that’s due to the initial few chapters feeling lacking.

What I liked:

When the book finally started, it really started. I loved the love scenes, it was graphic in a romantic way that most regency romances are. The scenes involved a bed, bathtub, table and chair. Quite different places each time! Her learning the art of seduction added a brilliant hotness to the book. There were around three to four love making scenes and a number of ones that came quite close. There was ample description and the scenes lasted for many pages. I often hate when a scene begins and it only lasts for a page or so. I also really loved the dialogue shared too during these scenes.

This book gave me what I like to refer to as the ‘heart clencher.’ Very typical of regency romances, the tensions were high. He did not want to love Madeline and ever time his exterior broke, it sent rushes through me. I found myself screaming at the pages begging Madeline to confess her love to him all the time, but in the best of ways. I really do love it when the male love interest refuses to love but eventually gives in for the heroine. This book was exactly that. 

I definitely recommend this book, especially for Bridgeton lovers. Give it a go!

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

Sentence started based off your profile for writing: “If you don’t tell, I won’t tell.” :)

[Mehehehe, had to take my chance & write a Daryl/Connie thing. Don't know where this'll fit canonically but let me write fluff, please]

Prompt: 'If you don't tell, I won't tell.'

~

The dead of night was when the prying eyes would turn themselves away to look beyond the walls, keeping watch of the Walkers or the Whisperers that would roam about nearby. The slightest distraction could cause a breach or an ambush, so those who patrolled had no such luxury of indulging in the secrets that floated about in the dark. Many took advantage of the time for it was always the perfect time to go about one’s activities unnoticed. That was exactly what Daryl Dixon enjoyed the most about his day.

The mornings for Daryl were weary but eventful, nevertheless. He never could stay in one place for long without action, but there were moments when he would need a moment to sit and allow himself the pleasure of relaxation without the anticipation that someone was going to come asking for him. Being surrounded by a community was homely but some alone time would do him good. No breath wasted on chatting, no energy wasted maintaining attention on a one-way conversation and no missions to deal with. That was all he needed for a while before hitting the hay. Sleep was cathartic in its own way but nothing could compare to staying awake with the company of the night sky and the autumn breeze.

Trudging down the dirt path, Daryl navigated his way through the place with only a candle in hand. A lantern would draw too much attention and the circle of light that glowed from the candle was more than enough for him to see where he was going. He knew this place like the back of his hand. Getting around by muscle memory alone would have been enough but he was not taking any chances with whatever lurked in the dark.

As he walked off into the more isolated parts of the camp, he thought that his mind was playing tricks on him. He swore that he heard a rustle but when he turned around, he was met with nothing. Convincing himself that it was the wind, he continued on. The very second time he heard the rustle, they sounded more of footsteps than the wind ruffling through the tall grass or the leaves in the trees overhead. Dried grass crunched underneath each step but he did not stop moving just yet. After taking a few more steps, he spun around abruptly to catch his pursuer as soon as the footsteps drew closer, merely inches away from him. With frightening speed, his arm shot out to grab the figure by the arm and he pulled them closer to the light to see who it was.

Scowling, he loosened his grip on the arm and sighed. “Connie, you should know better than to sneak up on me like that,” he spoke as he signed the keywords that he knew.

“You should know better than to sneak away,” Connie signed with a matching scowl. “You just disappeared.”

Shaking his head, Daryl could not help but sigh. “It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

"Well, I’ve caught you." There was something victorious in the way she smiled at him.

Clicking his tongue, he let out a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah… Ain’t gonna rat me out, are you?”

Instead of signing, Connie pulled out her notebook from her pocket and scribbled a few words onto a page. Beaming at him, she held the book up to him. ‘If you won’t tell, I won’t tell. :)’

“I can do with that,” Daryl chortled. Taking a few steps forward, he stopped to look at her expectantly. “You joinin’ me or what?”

Giddily, Connie took his side and allowed Daryle to usher her to his destination. As it was not in use anymore, Daryl decided that the best place to linger was the little abandoned cabin just outside the walls of Hilltop. There was no need to go sneaking over the walls seeing as there was already a hidden passageway that led to the humble little place. He lifted a trapdoor concealed underneath a fake pile of wood and motioned for Connie to hop in first before following after her. Their journey did not take long and soon enough, they were settling down into the shabby comfort of the cabin. It looked better on the inside than out. It was furnished with blankets from the camp, stocked with lousy moonshine and stolen rations, and a couch sat just in front of the fireplace in a condition good enough to be deemed pristine under their circumstances. The kids who had set this all up sure knew how to be hospitable.

Daryl slumped into the couch with a groan and watched as Connie wandered around the room, exploring the place to feed her growing curiosity. It was a delight seeing her examine every terrain with such wide-eyed wonder. She had no such freedom to take her time with her surroundings whenever they ventured out of Alexandria but here, she took advantage of every second. She picked up a jar of moonshine to shake the liquid around before setting it down to move on to the next object. Daryl saw her go through every object that she could interact with and once she was done, she went over to the couch to sit at the other end of it where she could lean against her own arm rest.

“How did you find this place?” she signed with a contented smile.

“Uh- Saw a bunch of kids sneakin’ out here once. Would’ve reported but that's none’f my business,” he answered, singing rather clumsily this time.

Connie nodded and she tipped her head to look around once more. “It’s nice.”

“I’m glad you think so.” To add on to the ‘niceness’, Daryl dug through his pockets, producing a bit of bread wrapped in a handkerchief which he offered to Connie. “Got snacks too.”

Laughing silently, she pinched off a piece for herself then pushed the rest of it back to him. “Have we become teenagers again?”

“Maybe. It’s nice to leave behind the adult stuff… Relax for a bit.” He took a bite out of the bread and leaned into the couch. “We don’t get many moments like this. I come back into the camp and the next thing I know, my ass is on my bike again.”

“You could always say no.” Pausing, Connie reconsidered her words. “But I understand why the people would rather have you out there. The obligation must be difficult to resist.”

“Mhm… Gotta do the most I can to help this community and others. Can’t let my friends down.” He took another bite of his bread then picked up the spare bit to put on Connie’s lap. He saw her features melt into a scowl but he laughed it off.

“You need to look after yourself. Put yourself first, just for a day,” Connie retorted with the bread hanging loosely in between her fingers.

“What d’you think I’m doing now?”

Rolling her eyes, Connie sank into her corner. “This barely counts.”

“But it still counts.”

Throwing her hands in the air, she gave in and ate her bread but Daryl was not letting her get all grumpy. He scooted closer to her until their shoulders bumped and she was already smiling. If there was anyone who could not stay mad for long, it was her. Her frustrations often came from a good place. One of care and love for those around her. He was not accustomed to such treatment from others, and she was right when she said that he needed to take care of himself first before others. It was as if he had become a vessel to carry others. Should he ever sink, his priority would be to guide his loved ones to safety. He never did allow himself to think if it mattered whether he capsized or not. It was always about his loved ones.

He folded her arms over his chest and gave her shoulder another nudge to get her attention but eyes flickered somewhere else. He tried again but this time she scooted away, her smile only growing. Giving up was not an option so he resorted to pressing him back against Connie, squishing her into the couch like a cushion. She grunted softly and her head snapped back to look at him with amusement, giving him a gentle pinch to the arm.

“See? I’m resting,” he signed with a grin. “Good enough for you?”

“I guess. Comfortable?”

“Very much.” He readjusted himself so that they were both comfortable and when he settled into a position, Connie wrapped an arm around his shoulders but she was still attending to her bread. “You enjoyin’ that?”

“Didn’t eat much today.”

Daryl snorted. “Now you’re one to talk about self-care.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” After eating her last bite, she dusted the crumbs off her hands then ruffled Daryl’s hair. “Now, I’m full. Problem solved. You, on the other hand, need rest.”

“No point arguing, huh?”

Connie’s face softened up and she gave his shoulder a light jab. “I’m not arguing. I just want you to take care of yourself.”

“I know… I know you do. I’ll try.” He reached a hand up to poke her forehead. “You worry too much about me. Ain’t nice seeing you all worked up because of it.”

“I’m not the only one. Your family worries too.”

“I know. But you shouldn’t have to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I worry because I care. End of story.”

Daryl grumbled softly but Connie did not miss his smile. He was a softie and she knew that very well. As the night stretched, the two of them relished in each other’s company. They did not need to converse to enjoy the time that they spent. Despite living in silence, being in the presence of another was always a blessing and Daryl’s very being was horribly chaotic in her circle. It was lovely for a change having him around compared to her sister and her usual group of friends. Even in a crowd, it was easy to feel lonely but with Daryl around, there was no worrying about how loud the silence could get.

She reclined into the sofa, Daryl falling against her to follow her adjustments. She had lowered herself enough for the both of them to lay down on the couch and she swore she saw Daryl cover his mouth to yawn. She rested a hand over his eyes as though motioning for him to fall asleep and she was relieved when he said nothing against it. When she lifted her hand, his eyes were closed and he had folded his arms over his chest. His lips moved to mouth something and in minutes, he fell asleep. With a hand resting on his chest, she could tell that he was snoring away already. It took a lot of effort to refrain herself from laughing at how fast he had fallen asleep but she was happy to see him taking even the smallest step to take care of himself. So much for saying he didn’t need to be taken care of.

Sleep did not come to her that night. Some part of her felt obliged to stay up and keep watch as they were outside the grounds of Alexandria. Anything that happened to them would be their responsibility. Daryl had always been the responsible one among the groups he led so it did not hurt to pick it up this time just for him to have a chance to rest. However, she dozed off at the first wink of sunrise. It was not after when she felt a weight lifted off of her which was indicative enough that Daryl had already awoken but she could hardly lift an eyelid so she slept on.

When she woke up, she found herself back in her bed, tucked in clumsily. The sun had already risen and she knew that because she had forgotten to draw the curtains shut which had caused a glare of heat to wake her up abruptly. The air in the house was still. Perhaps everyone had already gotten up for the day. Daryl was not there but something else greeted her vision. On her bedside was her notebook opened to a page in very familiar scribbles. Picking it up and reading it in her haze of sleepiness, she could make out a few words but they were enough to bring a smile to her lips. Clutching the notebook to her chest, she laid on her back and granted herself just a few more minutes of rest.

‘Thank you for last night. I know you didn’t sleep but I hope you slept well.’ - D.

[majestyeverlasting]

Look Up to the Sky

(a Dad!Bucky Headcanon)

Pairing: Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

Children: Jamie (James Jr.) and Eden, ages 7 and 6

Summary: Child-like wonder and raindrops against skin. Contains lots of fluff.

A/N: Please accept this humble offering as I continue working on requests :') It's an addition to my "Mini Summertime Series." (And inspired by the fact that it’s raining where I am)

There’s nothing like the sound of rain on a summer afternoon. Especially on the weekend. The four of you had had a late and relaxed start to the morning. By the time the droplets began pattering onto the roof, everyone was gathered in the living room. You and Bucky were cuddling on the couch and the kids were sprawled on the floor coloring in their sketchbooks...

Eden eventually jumps up to show you two what she'd been working on. On the page is a rainbow—a rather good one.

"Look, I finished!" She beams.

You're smiling right back at her. "That's so pretty, E. Don't forget to sign your name on it."

"Oh, yeah!" She quickly returns to the floor, and writes her name on the bottom corner in pink crayon. "Okay, now I'm finished." Upon standing back up, she looks at her father for his response.

Bucky nods in approval. "Nice, sunshine. You got all your talent from me," he jokes.

"And mommy," Eden defends with a giggle. "Wouldn't it be kinda cool if we saw an actual rainbow?" She asks afterwards.

"It would be cool," you agree. "We might be able to see one today, if we're lucky."

Jamie perks up. "We should go outside to look for one."

The suggestion isn't an obscure one. But you're aren't exactly leaping at the prospect of letting them venture out into the rain. They'd done so countless times before. But the last few outings resulted in them growing a bit too adventurous (extremely muddy, in other words). Perhaps it would've been easier to give an 'okay' if minimal clean-up was ensured.

Eden is agreeing with her brother before you and Bucky have the chance to pitch in. "Yeah, we should! It''ll be so much fun." Now they're both standing, sketchbooks tossed to the ground, and clapping their hands together in hope.

Bucky lets out a puff of air. "Well—"

"Pretty please?" She's giving him puppy dog eyes.

"Yeah, please?" Now Jamie's doing the same thing.

"I don't know, guys..." you start. "Maybe we'll be able to see one if we look out the windows. Then you won't have to go out and get all wet."

"But, Mommy," Jamie says. "It'll be ten times better if we're outside. We'll be fine if we put on our raincoats and stuff. Please?"

You and Bucky look at each other. "Okay, fine," you finally say. "But you're not staying out for too long."

"And no stepping into the mud purpose," Bucky adds. "That's not what the cool kids do."

They laugh at his attempt to discourage such actions. In their minds, going into the mud was exactly what the cool kids did. But they were willing to give up being cool kids for a day if it meant keeping the two of you sane.

After they're suited up in their coats and boots, Bucky opens the front door for them. Without looking back, they ran to the end of the driveway to splash where rainwater had settled. They seem to have forgotten about looking for a rainbow. You wrap an arm around Bucky's waist as you watch them from the doorway. Their excited laughter rang out into the air.

"We're not pushovers, are we?" You murmur, half joking.

Bucky drapes an arm over your shoulders. "Nah. They're safe and happy so it's all good. Let 'em be kids."

You sigh. "Yeah." The two of you then step out on the front porch to watch, shielded from the rain. The light-gray clouds appear to be glowing from the sunrays trying to pierce through.

You begin searching the sky for a rainbow yourself. And sure enough, there is one. It's not bold. It's no more than a short, faint strip of colors. But it's there nonetheless. You poke Bucky's side.

"Look, Buck," you prompt, pointing to it.

He chuckles. "Well, would you look at that?"

Jamie ends up spotting it himself as he and Eden are kicking through the water along the curb.

"Eden, look up to the sky!" He exclaims. "There's actually a rainbow! Do you see it?"

As soon as she looks up, she starts jumping up and down. You and Bucky laugh when they turn in your direction and start frantically pointing to the sky.

"Guys, c'mere!" Eden begs.

"We can see it from here, baby," you call out to her.

But, nevertheless, Bucky takes your hand and begins pulling you down off the porch. Neither of you are wearing a coat, but you can't bring yourselves to mind. The droplets wet your hair, skin, and clothes as he leads you to where the kids are. You're both laughing like children.

The kids are elated that you've come to join them.

"Look, guys. Watch this," Jamie urges. He then tilts his head back and sticks his tongue out to catch the rain. "Try it."

Eden is the first to begin copying him. Then Bucky starts doing it, and there's no stopping the love and the warmth that overflows within your heart.

His hair is stuck to his forehead, yet he looks as handsome as ever. A smirk comes to his face when his beautiful eyes meet yours again. Even his eyelashes are stuck together from being wet.

"Your turn, doll. You gotta have a go at it too."

So you do. Tilting your head back to catch the droplets on your tongue. It feels so childish but undeniably good.

Before you know it, he's cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. You can feel him smiling. The kids are giggling. It's even possible that the neighbors are watching.

But there the four of you were; out in the rain with a rainbow in the sky above.

The most perfect summer afternoon.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you find rainbows in the sky whenever there's one to be found. Masterlist

[the-shiftshop]

One Touch - Part 1

Inspired by @dark-limbo​​. Might want to check this blog out!

DISCLAIMER: This story might not focus on character development and plot. The story you’re about to read will solely focus on having fun with writing erotic stories. Nevertheless, this story will be filled with foreplay, intimacy and sex, a lot of sex. If straight forward stories are not your thing, I apologize, but otherwise you want to enjoy reading intimate scenes, then welcome and hop on.

This story, One Touch, will also be interactive in a way where the most votes in the poll below will be followed in the next chapter. Enjoy

TO VOTE FOR THE POLL FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, CLICK HERE

All I need is one touch. Just one touch to take control of anyone I want. Just one touch to make them do what I ask them to. I’ve been training with this new found power for over a year now, thanks to that Guide to Hypnosis book that I’ve bought for a very good price.

I’ve been hypnotizing my way throughout my sophomore year. My freshman year had not been that great and through making people do what I want, I’ve been getting great scores that made me catch up with my grades. Just one touch, I make my professors alter my grade, or make my homework, or make them think that they’ve been taking care of me and it’s their job to make sure I do great in school. I’ve been getting free coffee in the university café since the start of my sophomore year. Just one touch to make the manager think I’m their special costumer.

So far I have almost done everything that I have always wanted with hypnosis, except one that I have been craving since I’ve learned about hypnosis. No, it’s not about getting famous. It’s not about robbing a bank and getting away with it with hypnosis. It’s not about getting revenge on people who did me wrong.

It’s intimacy.

I may have touched other people’s hands, arms or shoulders, but even my own body is touch deprived. I’ve been wanting someone to touch me, grope me, kiss me, make them do whatever I ask them to. Now with this power, I can finally make anyone have intense intimacy with me. I’ve trained for over a year for this. I can’t let every attempt fail and make them weirded out, or let people know I can hypnotize anyone I want.

So far, I’ve tried this once with my roommate, Robert.

It was our finals in sophomore. Robert is sitting on his bed, studying for our exams. Looking somewhat stressed, groaning while flipping through the pages of the print-outs which he borrowed from me, and then scrolling through his laptop. I should have been studying as well, but there was something I’ve been focusing on other than studying. Still nervous if this will work, my heart beating fast.

To be honest, I’m not really that attracted to Robert. I find him cute, muscular and all, but I have never considered having sex with him, but so far he’s the only one available right now.

“I’m tired!” Robert complained and dropped my print-outs on the floor. This gave me an opportunity not to miss. I quickly grabbed my print-outs from the floor.

“Dude. Told you to take care of my stuff.” I said, standing up.

“Sorry, man. I’m just super stressed with this one. I give up.” He said, lying down.

I handed out my print-outs to him which at first, he ignored. “Robert, just grab this already.”

“Nah! Let me sleep.” He replied.

Not losing hope, I placed a hand on his arm. Just touching his arm made a significant change, which is always a hint that he’s already in trance. As soon as I touched his skin, he took a deep breathe and his breathing went slower, introducing him to a much relaxed state. I grinned, thinking the first step worked.

“Sit back up.” I said, he followed.

“Why not, let me give you a massage on my bed? Stand up and go to my bed, then lie on your chest.”

“Sure. I think I need a massage.” He replied in his usual tone

This is common with people I control. They’ll just follow whatever I ask them as if they have their free will. They still act like themselves, talk and reply in affirmation to whatever I ask them to do.

Robert grabbed his phone and dove to my bed.

He started scrolling through his phone and then stopped for a while to look at me.

“What’chu waiting for?” He asked, smiling at me, excited for his massage.

I moved near beside his hip, my left leg above the bed in a position where I can give him a massage with me beside him. I started massaging his back. That was the time I have been that close to Robert. I have never touched any part of his body, heck even a pat on the back, or a man hug. I have shook his hand when we first men in freshmen year, but that was when I don’t know about hypnosis yet.

“Feeling good already?” I asked him. I knew I have not been properly massaging him, but with just this question, he groaned in pleasure.

“Yeah, man. That feels great.”

I couldn’t wait that long anymore. I moved my hands on his exposed skin once more and he look another deep breath.

“Kiss me.” Just a simple command.

He sat back up and without wasting any second, he pulled me by my head and placed his lips on mine. He was not doing anything else but a smack. I nervously moved a hand to his crotch. He was not hard at all. That was just a smack. I pulled away and he was just staring at me, not saying anything. I moved my hand to his perk nipples and teased them through his shirt.

“How does this feel?” I asked.

“Nothing at all.” He replied.

“Then it’ll start feeling great every second.” I stared in his eyes.

He started to blush. With a pinch, he adjusted himself on my bed, then gave a very soft moan. I placed another hand on his other nipple which drove him moaning hard.

“How does this feel?”

“It feels weird, man, but... They’ve never been this sensitive before...” He ended with another moan. I can see his cock finally bulging through his shorts.

“Let me touch you down there.” I said.

“Anything you want.” He agreed so I moved my right hand to his hard on.

“Horny?”

“So much. You’re so good...” Again, he ended with a moan.

“Why not play with mine too?” I removed my hand from his nipples but kept the other hand on his cock just to give his arms space to touch me too.

“Sure thing...” He was looking away from me but his hand went to my own hard on. “You’re hard too... Damn you’re big.”

“You wanna see?”

“Yeah.”

This time, my heartbeats got so fast that I may faint in no time. I relaxed myself for a while first, but his hand touching my cock is just droving me to a much aroused state.

“Let me see yours too.” I said.

He immediately pulled his cock out his shorts. He grabbed my hand and guided it to his shaft which again made him moan hard. His other hand pulled on my shorts to make my cock peek out.

“This might be too much to ask but...” He trailed off, I stared at him as he look away. He’s obviously super shy right now too. His cheeks are burning red. Still, he brought himself to his own courage. “Can you stroke me more?” He asked.

“If you’ll let me sit above you, I’ll stroke you more.”

He nodded and let his head fall back as I stroke him more. I moved closer to him, sat on his lap as I stroke him with one hand. My other hand pulled his face closer to mine. I stared him in the eye, but he tries to look away in embarrassment.

“No need to be embarrassed here. You’ve been confused about your sexuality ever since you’ve met me. I’m just trying to help you find the true you.”

“The true me...” His face blanked out for a bit as his memories adjust, with his moans still being consistent, then he came back to his senses once more.

“Look at me in the eye.” I commanded, he followed. “Look at my lips. Look at my body.” I followed. “There’s no need to be shy around me. You should even be thankful that I’m helping you release stress.”

“I am... very thankful...” He said in between moans. “Fuck, this feels so good.” He exclaimed, switching his focus from my eyes, lips and my body. “I’m gonna cum... Do it faster.”

“Touch my body.” I said, his hands move into my shirt.

I stroke him harder. Feeling his muscle tense a lot, seeing his views bulge against his skin. Before he release, I gave him one last command.

“You’ve been keeping that in for weeks now. That’s gonna be a huge load.”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, it will! Oh fuck!” He screamed as he finally blew his load all over our clothes. I watched as a torrent of cum blow all over his chest, face and hair. Some even went into his mouth. After a few seconds, he stopped. Panting, he stared at me. He looks so cute and erotic at the same time. I wanted my release too.

“Come here.” I pulled him close and kiss him deep. He followed suit and let out tongues intertwine. His arms hugging me, our clothes and body sticky with cum. We continued as I grind my own cock against him. It didn’t take long as I was already near my limit just by looking at Robert like this, I came too.

After all of that, I asked him to join me in the shower. I let him clean me, touch my body, then I cleaned him back. In the end, we got dressed and went back to our own businesses.

“Hey.” Robert called. “Thanks for the massage.”

I chuckled. “You’ll be coming back for more after this finals.”

“I will be” He agreed.

And that was the first time I had sex with anymore. Although, there wasn’t any penetration, I’ve been satisfied. Thanks to just one touch.

Finals had ended. Robert and I went separate ways for a while and went to our own families. It will take us 2 or 3 months until we meet again, but that’s not really disappointing.

I’m planning to enjoy the break with any men that I see, take control over them, dominate them or get dominated by them. Make then my own puppets while they think they’re doing everything in their own accord.

Thanks to that first time, I now feel confident, I think I can finally try getting any men naked.

-------------- Thank you everyone stopping by. If the poll does not appear below, click on the link to lead you to the poll website!

https://www.opinionstage.com/theshiftshop/who-should-appear-next

[talatomaz]

crossing paths pt.i | diana prince x lance!reader

a/n: reader has the powers of telekinesis. since this was going to be really long, i decided to split it into two parts. also this may be slightly canon divergent since i’ve not watched flash in a long time.

warnings: mentions of fighting, death

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

reader is sara & laurel’s younger sister who works with team flash. after her and cisco’s experiment goes sideways, she finds herself trapped on an unknown earth not unlike her own

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“You’re absolutely sure this will work, Cisco?”

You asked, tying your hair up into a ponytail whilst the mechanical genius typed on his computer; the keys clacking under his fingertips.

“Yes. 100%. Well, more like 99%. Okay, if we’re being truly honest, then 93%.”

Cisco paused after each figure before turning his head to face you.

“Cisco-“

You started before the former interrupted, “Trust me, y/n. You’ll be fine. You just need to travel there, have a look around and then come straight back. We’ve done it so many times before.”

You and Cisco had been working on modifying the extrapolator your team often used to travel between different Earths. Or rather, you used to use them before the rebirth of the universe following Oliver’s sacrifice.

You cleared your throat at the thought of the vigilante. Having grown up with him and he having dated both of your older sisters meant that he was practically like your brother. And you were broken when you’d lost him so you’d left Team Arrow and came to work with Barry and his team instead.

Working with Team Flash was...different, to say the least. But having known them for several years, you got on well with them all, especially Cisco and Iris.

However, this project you were working on was only known to you and Cisco; the others blissfully unaware, mainly because the two of you knew that if you told them, they’d guilt you into stopping your experiment.

You were the one who had gone to Cisco with the idea in the first place.

After the Crisis, many of you had assumed that everyone solely remained on one Earth however you believed that the multiverse still existed, but that it’d be much harder to access. Cisco had agreed to help you but had explained that he wouldn’t come with you due to his relinquished powers.

So here you were, getting ready to try out the extrapolator in order to confirm or disprove your theory that the multiverse still existed.

“Technically, we haven’t, Cisco. New Earth remember?”

“That’s just semantics.”

“Cisco, if this doesn’t work, you better be ready to explain to my ex-assassin of a sister what happened to me.”

You laughed as his face dropped at the thought of that conversation.

He cleared his throat, “I’ve done all the necessary calculations and made a few needed modifications, including a GPS chip. It’ll work, y/n. Here, take your mask. Just in case.”

He added as an afterthought, handing you the sleek black mask he had designed to disguise your identity.

You put the mask in your jacket and took a deep breath, readying yourself. Holding the extrapolator, you pressed the small button and a familiar portal opened in front of you; variations of colours swirling around the breach.

You looked back at Cisco and feigned seriousness, “If I die, I’m going to kill you.”

His eyes widened making you smile, “Be safe, Cisco. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you then stepped into the inter-dimensional breach.

***

“Okay, hopefully this worked.”

The breach closed behind you as you stepped into an alley; the several dumpsters providing some form of protection from anyone who may have seen you.

Wherever you were, it was bright and sunny.

Pocketing the extrapolator, you stepped out of the alley and walked down the paved sidewalk, listening for any indications of where you were from passersby.

You continued walking until you came across a newsstand that looked fairly out of place in this seemingly technological environment.

You stopped, peering at the front cover of one of the magazines.

The words “DAILY PLANET” were printed on the top of the paper. You reached down and picked it up, flicking through the pages, pausing when you saw a familiar name on the byline.

Folding the paper back into its original state, you placed it back on the stand, flashing a kind but brief smile to the newsagent who looked at you with intrigue.

Although you didn’t know what Earth you were on, at least you knew you were in Metropolis.

A place you had visited several times since the rebirth of the universe.

A place that, despite whatever Earth, was always home to one Clark Kent, better known as Superman.

You pondered in your thoughts for a little while longer before deciding to venture out and explore the city, eager to find any similarities or differences between your Earth and this one.

You ended up in a museum.

You weren’t sure exactly how you’d gotten there, having followed wherever your feet had taken you but, nevertheless, you were here.

Whilst you were never a huge fan of museums, you’d often found yourself being dragged to them by Laurel when you were younger.

There was something about them that she’d loved.

She tried explaining it to you once.

How the beauty of art told a story or something.

You didn’t really pay much attention and who could have blamed you? You were only 10 years old. You’d rather be out playing or hanging out with your friends than spending your Saturday afternoon in a stuffy old museum.

But this place was anything but.

In truth, you knew that you sought solace in places like these during times of distress or uncertainty.

It gave you a chance to feel closer to your sister after the world had cruelly taken her away from you. Even on another Earth, you still found peace and felt her presence next to you.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging before tensing once more, feeling someone behind you.

You never used to be so on edge.

When you were younger, you lived such a care free life, never feeling any need to be concerned or cautious.

But that had changed quickly.

Soon you had been thrust into the vigilante life, more determined than ever to become like your sisters and help them fight crime.

In fact, you had learned to fight from a reluctant Sara.

After several arguments about the danger of her world, she’d come to accept that there was no changing your mind and had decided that if you were going to purposely put yourself in harm’s way, you needed to be prepared. She had put you through vigorous training which Oliver soon picked up with you after Sara had been recruited to form the Legends.

So, suffice it to say, you were well-versed in the forms of self-defence and were constantly on the lookout for any form of danger.

And being on a different Earth certainly warranted your caution.

“How are you liking our exhibit?”

A feminine voice said, her voice thick with an accent you couldn’t distinguish.

Turning with a smile, you spoke, “It’s beautiful. I never used to appreciate art but now I find myself lost in the works of Rembrandt or Claude Monet.”

“Ah yes. They were most excellent artists.”

You blinked, not at her words but at her face.

The woman who stood before you was, quite simply put, the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life.

Realising you were staring, you cleared your throat, “Yes, I agree.”

You opened your mouth to say something else - what, you weren’t sure of - when you closed it again having spotted a man who’d just entered the room which held the small exhibit.

The figure wore a black cap, obstructing his face, his eyes darting around before landing on another male situated in one of the corners of the room. The latter gave him a brief nod which the other returned. Discreetly glancing at them, you noticed familiar bulges beneath their shirt, surely holding a gun.

“Okay, don’t be alarmed but I think this place is about to get robbed.” You said in a hushed whisper, faking interest in another piece of art beside you.

You noted the small but discernible flicker in the woman’s eyes, her name still unknown to you.

“How-“

“Let’s just say I’m perceptive. Do me a favour and take out your phone.”

You waited until the brunette had followed your instructions.

“Pretend to be talking to someone and walk out the room. They’re not going to do anything until you’re gone because they don’t want to run the risk of you warning someone.”

She nodded at your words and proceeded to carry out your plan.

You fought the look of surprise and confusion that surely would’ve shown on your face at the lack of fear on hers. Instead, her eyes seemed to hold a look of determination.

Determined to do what, you weren’t sure of.

Once she had left, your suspicions were confirmed when the two men simultaneously took out their guns and shouted.

“Everybody down on the ground. Now!”

Screams and shouts were let out by the small group of citizens in the room, replacing the quiet bustle of hushed whispers that had previously filled the air.

As everyone immediately fell to the ground, you slid down the wall until you were in an upright position.

You watched as they removed several of the smaller pieces of art, carefully placing them in a duffel bag. You waited until they grew closer to you before standing up causing both of their guns to be aimed at you.

“Sit back down or you’ll get a bullet in your pretty little head.”

They both moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the view of the security cameras and the people behind them. Using your powers, you pulled the guns toward you and flung them to the far side of the room.

You took advantage of their momentary confusion and kicked both of them. One of them grabbed you from behind, his tight grip trapping your arms. You raised your legs and caged the other’s neck between them.

Twisting your legs, you threw him to the ground and then drew yourself closer into your captor’s arms, lifting off the ground for a brief second before throwing him over your shoulders and onto the ground beside the other intruder.

“Run!”

You yelled to the handful of citizens who watched you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Then you felt yourself being pushed against the marble ground as one of the men jumped on top of you, his weight crushing your small figure.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.” He snarled against your ear.

You threw your head back, smirking when you heard the grunt of pain and several curses falling from the man’s lips.

You raised your hands and with it, the other man floated in the air. With a wave of your wrist, he went crashing into his friend and they slumped into a corner.

You quickly picked yourself up and ran out of the museum’s back exit, knowing you had to avoid the police at all costs.

Reaching an abandoned alley, similar to the one you first arrived in, you took out the inter-dimensional extrapolator, deciding it was way too dangerous for you to remain here any longer.

Pressing the device, you expected to see a breach form but to your shock, there was none. Inspecting the device, you saw that it had been broken, more than likely from when you’d been thrown against the ground by the robbers.

You muttered a foul curse before calming yourself.

Think, y/n. Think.

Your ears perked up at the familiar whistle and rattle of train tracks.

Okay, you knew what to do next.

You needed to go home.

Part 2 ->

[twistedmusings]

What Are You Writing?

A/N: JOKES ON YOU GUYS, I'M AN OBEY ME WRITERS BLOG NOW. Nah not really, I mean maybe I might start thinking about making one in the future but I see all these awesome writers in that fandom and I get i n t i m i d a t e d. Nevertheless, I did want to pull a harmless prank on my readers so...enjoy a labor of love and possible regret as I now have to work on other requests ó uò

How would the brothers act with a Writer MC?

-He almost jumps when you walk into the room, practically shouting his name as you go to stand next to his desk and take a peek at what he is working on.

“Can I help you? “You certainly can.”

-You place a notebook next to his stack of paperwork and take a pen out, opening it up to a blank page before staring at him and building up your courage to ask the next question.

“What would you do if I suddenly asked you to be my fake boyfriend for a day?”

-You certainly were keeping up with your role in being the one human he isn’t able to pin down, huh?

-He asks what in the world you are talking about and you squat near him so that you can explain what you were doing. RAD proved to be a lot more stressful than you thought and you didn’t need to remind him that you were playing therapist to seven demons so you needed some sort of break.

-You tell him that in the human world you had a habit of writing ideas, snippets and even random bits of dialogue when you got stressed so you had asked Satan to lend you a notebook and a pen so you could unwind but you had gotten stuck in one scene.

-The character you were writing was loosely based on Lucifer so you decided why not ask him what he would do in order to get some inspiration!

“So here I am! I don’t need an entire synopsis I just want to know because maybe that will spark something inside of me.”

-Pen to paper, you look up at Lucifer ready to write anything down and even though you were looking him straight in the eye you were not paying attention to just how hard Lucifer was staring at you.

-You really had no idea how he felt about you, did you?

-Even with the pact making, the Hellfire Newt Syrup incident, the countless of times he had tried to flirt with you to the point that anyone without eyes could tell how he felt about you, your human brain did not seem to accept the fact that the eldest of the seven demon lords had fallen for you.

-Was this just another way of torturing him? Who would have thought that you would be such a cruel master?

-If only he wasn’t bound to you by the pact. Not that he regretted it but without the pact the ‘need’ to submit to you wasn’t as strong, all he would have to do is grab your chin, turn your face towards his so that he could tell you explicitly what was going through his head every time he saw you--

“...I would walk you to class, first and foremost. We would leave the House of Lamentation together and arrive together as well. Maybe some impromptu dates. Free tutoring as well.” “That’s tempting~ Would you let me hang around in your study?” “You are already welcome to do that.” “Aw, when did you get so soft?”

-Get the hint already!

-Your hand is scribbling down every idea he says, making quips here and there as you both talk extensively about your fake dates would play out. The idea of having you all to himself without his brothers around was already so tempting yet here you were talking about it like it was just a passing thought.

-That wouldn’t do.

-He grabs the top of your pen and smiles when you look up at him in confusion.

“At end of the day, I want to make you feel like the most important person in my world. I don’t want there to be a single doubt in your mind that you belong with me. Pact or no pact, you changed me in ways I couldn’t even fathom, MC, and I am doing everything in my power so that you will see just how important you are to me.”

-Your eyes are staring up at him, wide and with surprise as he dares to cup your cheek.

-He did it. He had gotten through to you! All he had to do was lean in and--!

“Can you repeat that one more time?! Oh my god Luci that was so good! I’m showing this to Satan when I’m done! Thank you so much!”

-Lucifer’s hand drops to his lap as he watches you pick yourself up and run out of his study, his fist clenching in his hand as he thought of just how blind you could be for not seeing what he had tried to convey with those cliched words! Of all the humans--!

-He stops as he hears your giggles outside of the hallway, unclenching his fist and sighing as he tries to look at the positives.

-There had been a flush on your cheeks, of that he was sure. Which meant that in some way...his words had made an impact. He hoped it would take just a few more cheesy lines for you to fall for him.

”Mammon!!!!”

-From the top of his head to the tip of his toes, Mammon could feel himself shiver as you called out his name. Ever since he made that pact the way you would call out his name would send a pleasant shiver down his spine as he turned to greet you.

-Levi told him that you had been looking for him and he had practiced his greeting at least five times to make him look as cool as possible.

“Yo MC! I heard you were looking for the Great Mammon!”

-See? Wasn’t he cool?

-The brothers watched as you didn’t even greet Mammon, you just grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the living room telling everybody that you needed to talk to him privately.

-Privately? As in you two alone? Together?

-Well of course you wanted to talk to him alone! His awesome ways had probably finally gotten through to you and you were about to confess to him. Suck on THAT Lucifer!

-You push him into your room before closing the door and turning to look at him.

“I have something I need to ask you. Do you think you can help?”

-The words escape him before he even thinks them.

“Anything.”

“I want to go out with you. Tonight. Almost like a pretend date.”

-Fireworks go off inside his head as he feels tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. This was real, you were asking him out! You had picked him out of all his brothers despite how many messes he got you in and how much trouble tended to follow him--

-Wait, pretend?

-You proceed to show off your little book of writings, explaining to him that you had gotten stuck in trying to describe a hidden date between the protagonist and the love interest.

“They are trying to hide the fact they are dating from everybody so that they won’t get in trouble. I figured that a human and a demon going on a date is already somewhat of stigma as it is so I just want to see how it feels so I can describe it better.”

-He can’t really describe the sadness that he feels when you tell him it would all be pretend. Too much for dropping Grimm on wishing wells. He was going to go back and fish them all out tomorrow. What a letdown!

-Here he was, the GREAT Mammon letting a human toy with his heart like this!

“You won’t get in too much trouble if we do this...right?”

-The worry in your voice is what makes him look into your eyes. Your hand was on his as you looked for any signs of discomfort from the Avatar of Greed. Your eyes were entirely on him.

-Mammon’s subconscious: More of that please.

-You looked so worried for his well-being. Mammon had no idea who had told you that humans and demons were not allowed to date but they had clearly lied to you. There was no stigma whatsoever. And in retrospect he should reveal that to you now so that there would be no misinformation on how much he wanted to take you on a not pretend date.

-But all your attention was on him. Your body was facing his way, your hands on his as you licked your lips nervously. More, more, more, more he needed for you to look at him more--!

“Tch. Making such a complicated request. You could really get me in trouble for this, MC!” “You’re right, I shouldn’t push it--” “But I guess if you are asking me, I could spare a couple hours...for you.”

-You both share a smile as you hug him close, his arms wrapping around you tight as he tries to keep his smile from breaking out into full blown giggles.

-This worked out for him as well! He was going to give you the best date of your human life so you would have no choice but to fall for him! You better get ready!

-You wrote some fiction, he wrote TSL fanfiction, Levi was probably already aware of your talent once he asked to beta one of his other works and you came back not just with some beta but with some actual USEFUL feedback unlike Satan going on about his spelling mistakes. -So you are already in his room when you ask for his help, grinning as you hold up the small ideas that you had written for your proper introduction into the TSL fandom.

“I want to write an AU about Henry and the Lord of Shadows in an arranged marriage!”

-The premise was simple. You wanted to write about the Lord of Shadows and his Henry having to marry each other in order to bring peace to both of their kingdoms. The marriage proposition was sudden and each of the seven brothers was against it but you wanted to show just how much Henry was willing to sacrifice to help the people who he cared about the most.

-And you loved drama like this.

-You hold up your book as you keep ranting to Levi, the other caught up in your plot as he closed his eyes in order to better imagine it.

“And I want a moment where the Lord of Shadows tells Henry that he doesn’t have to do this. That he wants him to be happy and doesn’t want him to be stuck with a reclusive Lord for all his life.”

-Of course, of course. The Lord of Shadows had always hoped for Henry’s happiness and he had also sacrificed a great many of his previous ways in order to gain his best friend’s praise! Levi was proud, you understood these characters so well! So he pipes in with his own thoughts.

“I bet Henry turns to him and asks why he is so against the idea! It would push the Lord of Shadows to confess that he has secretly longed for Henry’s affection and attention all this time!”

-You both grin before you stand up, putting on a fake sad face as you take Levi’s hand in yours before pressing them to your chest.

“Am I not worthy to be your spouse? Do you hate the idea of marrying me that much?”

-Levi is caught up in the moment that he doesn’t even notice how close you two are, instead moving even closer as he cupped your cheek.

“You? Not worthy? It is I who is not worthy of you. After all you have done...can I be selfish enough to call you mine?”

-Oh this was practically writing itself! You really hoped that Levi remembered some of these lines. You pull away from his touch dramatically before sighing as you decide that this scene would be a good catalyst moment for a confession.

“Have you ever thought of me that way? More than what we have now? I’m embarrassed to admit it but...I have on many occasions longed for something more.”

-Levi’s expression softens in a way you haven’t seen before, keeping a hold on your hands as he follows up with you seamlessly.

“If I told you about my fantasies...about the deep need I feel to keep you away from prying eyes and hoping that yours would remain on me despite the others who so badly wish for your hand. Would you still see me in such high regard?”

-Shit he was good. The prying eyes bit was perfect! Now to end it with a bang! You feel Levi pull you by your waist so you are pressed against his chest, eyes looking down at you as if begging for your reply. So you do what you have read in many other books and take his face in your hands.

“Keep me. Forever.”

-You both stay that way for a few seconds before you pull away and let out a giddy squeal, rushing over to your book and writing down the lines that you could remember, gushing about how Levi had just given you the best ending ever.

-What you didn’t see was the poor demon standing there, arms still pretending to hold someone as the spell broke for him slowly. He needed to process just what the hell just happened.

-He had held your hands, touched you, had you close enough that he could feel you against him and you hadn’t even moved away! Levi could still see how warm your hands were on his cheeks and the words that you had said to him were now slowly coming back to him as he remembered his embarrassing replies!

-You jump and turn when you hear a clatter behind you, turning around to see that Levi had fainted and was now slumped against one of his many manga bookshelves, face all red and a dopey smile on his lips as he repeated your words over and over.

-If you had a writing buddy in Levi, then you got a plot bunny buddy with Satan.

-With the amount of books that he has read and the number of genres he is into, you are surprised that he finds your ideas mildly interesting. They were all just cliches and purely for your enjoyment so when he asked you if he could read some of what you had written you were too shocked to notice that he had already taken the book from your backpack.

“A love story...interesting.”

-You two were in the library, looking for a certain book about black magic casting as well as some examples of ritual circles that you needed to complete for your next assignment. Or rather you were looking for the books, he was just following close behind you as he read your latest entry.

“How are you stuck in this scene?” “Huh?” “How the main character meets the second love interest. It’s pretty obvious.”

-Well excuse you for having writer’s block. You know that he was trying to be helpful but his help always came with some sort of sarcastic twinge that, while endearing during some situations, was incredibly annoying when he was criticizing your writings. You turn back to look at him as you stop at the spot the book was supposed to be in.

“I haven’t necessarily fallen in love with anyone lately, you know! It’s too specific a feeling!”

-Satan’s eyes take in the way you tip-toe to try and reach the book, cursing under your breath as you struggled to get it from the highest shelf. Devildom libraries were notoriously famous for having ridiculously large bookshelves and only a ghost attendant would be able to help you. He looks down at your book and then back at the small scene before smiling as he snaps the book shut.

-Surely a bit of inspiration is all you needed, correct?

-You feel a hand on your lower back, another brushing the hand reaching out for the book and grabbing it for you. Satan smiles as he holds out the book to you.

“Black magic casting...and you needed something about ritual circles, right? It seems the perfect book is right next to you.”

-He ‘accidentally’ brushes your cheek when reaching out for the book behind you, humming for a moment before he puts it back and looks down at you without moving his arm out of the way. Satan had just effectively trapped you in a rather flawlessly executed Kabedon.

“...Satan...the book…” “It wasn’t the right one. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to get you in this position.”

-Your eyes were shining, the book was pressed right against your chest, he could even see the small blush adorning your face as the situation became quite clear to you. Now he wouldn’t tell you that he had practiced this sort of scenario by himself in his room just in case you ever asked him for help finding a book, better for you to believe that this had all been just a ‘happy’ accident.

“You are looking at me so seriously, MC.” “I know what you are doing.”

-He dares to move closer, his shadow casting over you as if to hide you from prying eyes. If you made the first move, there would be no one stopping him.

“Yeah?” “This would be perfect! A library setting! Gives me a chance to make the character like a cool librarian type!”

-Satan stays silent as you grab the books you need and snatch your notebook from his hand, stating that you were going to check these out immediately and then head home. He turns back to look at the place you were just standing at, the place where you had been completely at his mercy.

-Dammit, he should have blocked the other side too.

-Asmo was ecstatic when you asked him for his book collection.

-It annoyed him to no end when people thought that the only way he consumed his erotica was through personal experience and porn. In his opinion, after personal experience, the best way to enjoy his usual favourite activity was reading erotica. The descriptions, to get into the thoughts of the inner characters and seeing how they essentially lose their minds to the pleasure. It was thrilling.

-So when you come knocking at his door one night and ask for one of the books you usually catch him reading, he is both excited and curious.

“Which one do you want darling? I have the first volume of ‘Eternal Dom Love’, ‘Baring My Soul to a Demon’, ‘Captive Human’--” “You have anything like...with dirty talk?

-Oh now he is really excited and curious.

-He looks around his small library and pulls out the book he thinks is best for what you desired, holding it out for you to take but pulling it back quickly with a grin. Asmo wasn’t going to just let you walk away after telling him something so interesting~

“I’m a bit possessive about my books, MC~ What are you going to use it for? Recreational reasons?”

-You blush and cover your face with your hands, not really embarrassed for asking but instead embarrassed that you were about to tell him what you were going to do with it. But you steel yourself, you had heard Asmo flirt in the club before and from how quickly his dates had insisted on taking it to a more ‘private’ area, you knew he had the thing that you desperately needed.

“I…” “Yes?” “I’m-trying-to-write-the-prelude-to-a-sex-scene-in-one-of-my-stories-but-I-have-no-idea where-to-start-so-I-need-material!”

-Asmo blinks before grinning as he got in your face, pushing the book into your hands as he asked you what the story was about, who were the characters, had you based them off of anybody and just what kind of sex scene where you planning?

-He had no idea you had that kind of talent, where had you been hiding that all this time?

-You slowly explain the plot to him, getting a bit more into it as you see how much attention Asmo is paying to your every word. Out of all of the brothers you didn’t expect him to be so interested in one of your stories! The scene you have in mind is somewhat clear to you so you try to explain to him just what you think is missing.

“It is a demon and a human. They are clearly not supposed to be doing this. Yet that is--” “What makes it all the more appealing.”

-Asmo had played this out perfectly given the little time he had to work with. The more you talked, the closer he got to you. The closer he got, the more you moved away subconsciously. Your body instinctively wanted to make room for him and give him his space but you let out a small ‘meep’ when the back of your knees hit the side of his hanging chair and you find yourself sitting down as he kneels in front of you.

“They both know that if they take such a intimate step with one another they might not be able to go back to how they used to be before. Everything will change.”

-You nod as Asmo touches your leg, hand moving towards your thigh as he rests his chin on your knees.

“But what is so wrong with change? You said the demon is a charmer so they would want to charm them throughout the whole thing. It would start out slow, teasing even, probably testing out the waters as they see what their human likes and doesn’t like."

-He scoots closer and traces your fingers, the digits wrapped tightly around his book as he continues..

“They would eventually lose control, wouldn’t they? The passion would be too much for them to handle and they both would lose themselves to their lust. Although it wouldn’t be just lust…”

-Asmo looks up to meet your eyes, straightening out as he leans in closer to the point that you are shutting your eyes and leaning in as well--it’s not that you haven’t had experience with kisses but surely the demon of lust’s kiss would spark something inside your head--!

-You open your eyes when you feel the book leaving your hands.

“I changed my mind. I think this would be a much better title for what you are looking for, Sweetie.”

-He holds out your hand for you to stand up and you almost want to ask Solomon to cast some sort of spell that would make you forget everything that happened in these moments. You closed your eyes like some highschooler waiting for their first kiss--you were better than that!

-You thank him and make your way out of his room, running back to yours as fast as you can without noticing Asmo’s mischievous smile as he waved goodbye. It was always good to play the long game~

-You two had stopped at Madame’s Scream because Beel had complained about being hungry yet again. Besides you both had done rather well on an examination so--why not celebrate?

-You only had a small fizzy drink while Beel had ordered himself something called ‘The Herculean Parfait’, something about it holding 25 scoops of ice cream plus whip cream, nuts and some waffle cones at the bottom. Now the waiter had brought out two spoons but it was clear that Beel would only be needing one.

-This was rather normal for you two, Beel eating his fill while you stared at the blank page of your small notebook. You were trying to write a cute scene with a couple sharing a dessert at a coffee shop where they first met but you were struggling to think of a fluffy scenario.

-Was feeding your partner considered cheesy nowadays? You tap your page twice before looking at Beel. The second spoon remained untouched, some ice cream specks stuck to the shiny, concave surface as the Demon of Gluttony continued his ice cream carnage. You grab the spoon and take some from the side that had yet to be eaten.

“Hey Beel”

-The demon stops eating and looks at you as you hold out the spoon to him, his hunger suddenly stopping as he looks at the sugary contents stacked high on the spoon you were holding out for him.

“Say aah!”

-Beel blinks but doesn’t think twice the moment you give him the command, opening his mouth and eating the sugary confection off the spoon, his smile growing as you let out a small giggle.

“Did it taste good?" “Mmm~!" “I’m glad.”

-He abandoned his own spoon as you scooped up some more, opening his mouth as you kept on feeding him. Beel had no idea what had brought this on or why you were suddenly feeding him. It wasn’t like he was complaining, however. Yes your pace was slow and such a giant parfait would surely melt with how slow you were going but he didn’t care, instead opening his mouth wide as you kept on feeding him.

“So Beel…” “Mmm?" “Does it feel any different when I feed you?”

-Beel frowns when the spoon stops but decides to answer your question so that he could go back to eating. Why would it feel any different? Well, it somewhat did? He didn’t know how to describe it but he does feel a lot fuller than before. He is actually tasting the food as you take your time scooping up some more. He had picked out so many different flavors and he could taste almost every single one.

“I wouldn’t say different...but food certainly tastes better when you give it to me.”

-You immediately stop and put the spoon down, smiling as you start to writing down what Beel had just said. You could essentially build an entire scene around that! What a good idea coming here--

“MC?”

-Your pen stops as you look at Beel, your pen falling from your hands as you see the puppy dog look he was giving you. He looks at your hand and then at the spoon.

“Why did you stop?”

-Beel smiles happily as you go right back to what you were doing, the notebook forgotten as you continue to spoil your demon. You had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you were doing this.

-Belphie yawned as he cuddled you closer, your hands moving so they would be wrapped around his neck but still holding onto your phone. He closes his eyes and tries to drift off but frowns when he hears your fingers tapping on your screen. He could probably sleep through the sound but he didn’t want to.

“Turn around.” “Huh?” “Just turn around.”

-You do as he says, now pressed against his chest as you continue to type. Belphegor was close to falling asleep, pressing his nose against your shoulder as he breathes you in---

Tap tap tap tap

“Fuck this.”

-He grabs your phone and drops it off the bed, your protests being muffled as he wraps his arms around your neck to pull you close. You tap his arms twice before wiggling out of his hold, sitting up on the bed and looking at him while he glared back at you.

-What did you think you were doing typing away on your phone? Belphegor never really asked you for much but when it was cuddle time it was cuddle time. You weren’t supposed to do anything *but* cuddle during cuddle time so you clearly needed to stop being distracted.

“What do you think you are doing?” “Taking care of your distraction.”

-You both stare at each other as he sits up as well, clearly letting you know that if you were to go and dig for your phone he wasn’t going to let you. At this point, it really was useless to argue with Belphegor. As the youngest, he was used to getting what he wanted with little setback. So you lay back down, ignoring the triumphant smile Belphegor gave you as he went right back to cuddling you.

“I was writing something.” “It can wait till later…”

-Belphegor yawns and wraps his leg around you, ignoring the little ‘hmphs’ you were giving him as well as the words you were muttering to yourself. But what good would it be if you weren’t cuddling up to him as well so he decided to give in as well.

“What were you writing about?”

-Oh this was new. You turn to face him, talking about the scene you were working on. This couple had just had an exhausting day and they were eager to lay in bed together but their work or other responsibilities were keeping them from cuddling at night. You explained how you wanted to describe the exhaustion one was feeling from not having their partner with them.

-The demon of Sloth hummed when you mentioned how tired the character was and speaking up about how he knew how they felt. You chuckle and mention that it seemed that everything made Belphegor exhausted nowadays. He shakes his head, opening his eyes so he could look at you.

“No. I mean that everything gets heavier when you’re not with me.”

-You try to cut it in and ask him what he is talking about but he beats you to it.

“I get more energy when you are around. I actually want to do things aside from sleeping. “Are you saying you like hanging out with me more than sleeping?” “Don’t push it, MC.”

-Both of you laugh, your body cuddling closer to the demon as you yawn. A part of you was still annoyed that Belphegor had shoved your phone to the floor because now would have been a prime time to write that he had just said but as your eyes grew heavier you just hoped that you would remember it by the time you woke up.

-Belphegor opens his eyes once he feels your breathing evening out, smiling as he leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You weren’t far off...I do like you more than sleeping...sometimes…”

-He yawns and wraps an arm around your waist. What a good idea it was to lock the door so none of his brothers would bother you two. Your nights were his, after all.