#and i'm... i'm feeling a lot of things right now

[meggahamicide]

Disaster Twins 2025 🐢🐢

My boys! They look so vastly different in just two and a half years!

I loved doing this redraw, not only for experiencing first hand my newer process and how I've grown, but also being able to look at both finished versions side by side and having visible proof of the evolution of my art. It really goes to show that, while progress isn't always immediate and or linear, time and practice really does equal improvement in the end.

progress pictures, comparisons, and my thoughts on this redraw below:

First thing's first, looking at my old art I feel like those poses were the extent of my skill at the time, a real challenge that I set for myself, Leo in particular. I still appreciate them, especially for the first attempt I ever made at drawing any or the turtles, so going into the new one, I really wanted to emulate that same dynamic: Leo crouched down, supporting Donnie's elbow. But I didn't want it to feel as static.

In the new one, I wanted to be more lean in Donnie's pose, as if he's really putting his weight on Leo. Leo himself stayed relatively the same pose-wise, but I felt there was a way to push the pair of them to make it more dynamic. Hence, the perspective.

The second thing I wanted to tackle was the energy of the image. In the old one, I feel it gives more fun, pop-of-color vibes. It's energy was from me trying to take on the Rise style, of attempting to take on the vibrancy of the show and translate it to my art.

Now that I've had a few years to test what works best for me, I feel as though I've improved at balancing the color palettes a bit. I've always favored more muted tones, but always fought the Rise style to find the right give and take, but over time I found a happy medium that tends to lean toward those more muted tones for the body while still adding that pop of color, usually in the eyes or a source of light.

Rim lighting might just be part of my style at this point.

And lastly, I'd like to be able to compliment the original background, but it didn't work for the poses and colors I had going on on Donnie and Leo. The idea was to have a TMNT spray painted on a wall, but since the bodies covered most of the work, it was difficult to tell what was going on.

On the new one, I really leaned into the drama of the scene. They're ready to fight, they're moving, and they're a threat. I didn't want the background to fight with the characters this time around, so starting with the dark, monotone slate helped me smooth out the rest of the ambience before attempting the mystics on Donnie's bo, Leo's portal and what ended up being the wind. And finally the text. I intentionally kept it hard to notice, a small detail that added a bit more texture without distracting and also taking some of the blues and purples throughout the drawing. That last detail, the boy's names, was what I used to mimic the original background.

This ramble turned out a lot longer than I intended, feels like I should end it with "in conclusion" XD

Overall, I'm really happy with how this went and how I've grown since I started drawing tmnt art. Thanks for sticking around to listen to me chatter endlessly, please let me know if this is something you'd wanna read more of in the future!

[heavyhitterheaux]

Her Biggest Fan

See Me Through You Fic

AN: Still not over this pic 😭

Synopsis: It's the final day of Fanatics fest and you and Joe participate in the panel and let's everyone know that he is your biggest fan

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: @hoodharlow 😘💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

It was the last day of Fanatics fest 2025 and the only events that you had left to do were the panel and meet and greets. Then you would finally be able to crawl into the bed at the hotel and sleep the rest of the day away before going back home.

Seeing that your twins were growing what it seemed to be by the minute, Joe along with your personal assistant Remy had asked you multiple times if you wanted to do the event at all. But seeing as you had already made the commitment, there was no way you were backing out now.

The panel would be hosted by Tiffany Haddish and would include you, Joe, Druski, OBJ, and James Harden. You had picked out your outfit the night before and when Joe saw what shoes you were wearing, he instantly became confused.

“Baby, aren't your feet going to hurt? Don't you want to wear flat shoes instead?” Joe asked out of concern.

“No, I want to wear these. Besides, they go with my outfit and I'm going to be sitting down the majority of the day. I'll be fine. Besides, I have a husband that will carry me if I get tired. And his name is Joseph Lee Burrow.” You told him as you leaned down to kiss him.

“I… you are so spoiled.”

“Not my fault, it's yours. Now go and finish getting ready while I do my hair.” You replied as you walked over to the mirror and began brushing it.

“Yes ma'am.”

As you were finishing the last braid in your hair, you felt a series of kicks that caught you off guard, but the only thing you did was smile. It was a feeling that you never got used to no matter how many times it happened. 

Looking down at your stomach, you began making small circles before talking to them.

“Hey, cut it out down there. You two better be on your best behavior today.”

While playing on your phone, Joe came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and you slowly placed it down in front of you before eyeing him and whistling.

“My eyes are up here, Mrs. Burrow.”

“But your dick is down there and that's what I'm looking at.”

“You don't have any shame do you?” 

“Nope. None at all. And I told your daughters to be on their best behavior but we'll see how that goes. I think Selene kicked me in the ribs just now. I don't know how I know that it was her, but I do.”

“They'll behave. We don't have too much longer to go.”

“We don't have a lot of time to talk about this right now, but just give me the short answer. And do not lie to make me feel better or to keep me calm.”

“What is it?” Joe asked you as he slipped on his shirt.

“You're scared shitless because they're basically going to be born at the beginning of the season and you feel a huge amount of pressure on your shoulders even more so than you normally do and for good reason. Just tell me yes or no because I think that you're trying to hide it from me but you suck at it. Okay now go.”

“The short answer is yes. It's not like we can sort of ease into this with one child and get a handle on it before having another one. We are literally starting off with two. I already do so much during the season and the last thing I want to do is obviously miss something. I'm their dad and I need to be there every step of the way. I worry about missing their first laugh, their first steps, first smile just because I was too busy and being a supportive husband to you. Suppose you have a c section? That's major surgery and you need someone to be here to help you recover. That should be me. Regardless if it's not, you still need me here.”

You sighed before nodding your head as he now came to sit across from you.

“And that's why it takes a village. Bottom line is that we are going to need help and luckily we are in that position to have it. We have both of our parents who wouldn't even hesitate to help us. We are going to be amazing parents and the best thing about all of this is that we got our fairytale ending because at one point, you thought that you were going to have to live without me. We are going to get through this because we have each other.”

Joe slowly nodded his head before grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. He held onto it as he let out a deep sigh.

“You know WE love you right?” You asked with a smile as you pointed with your other hand to your belly.

“And you show me every single day no matter what. Especially when I get on your nerves.” 

–

The panel was now underway, but the only thing that you could focus on at the moment was how hungry you were. You kept zoning in and out and a few times, Joe had to grab your hand and ask if you were okay.

But you tuned all the way in as Tiffany had just asked Joe a question regarding his outfits and how he picks them during the season.

“And Joe, you look like you could be a model from the 1900s. Doesn't matter what you were modeling, I'd look.” She added and you smiled while nodding your head.

“YOU'RE SO SEXY JOE!” You heard a fan scream from the audience with Tiffany quickly agreeing.

“See? She gets it.”

“Thank you everybody, I suppose. However, my wife is next to me and before you ask, yes, she can fight.” Joe said without hesitation as he looked over at you before a laugh escaped his mouth.

“Don't let her being barely 5 feet fool you.”

“Aye! Y/N, I don't want any smoke I swear! I just like to look.” Tiffany told you and you playfully eyed her.

“You can look, but don't touch. That's been mine since 2018.”

“And do you sometimes help him pick his outfits during the season?”

“Yes and no. Sometimes I get surprised just like everyone else. You guys remember the pants from two seasons ago? Yall know what I'm talking about. THE PANTS.  I hated them so much that I hid them in our house and I honestly don’t remember where I put them.”

“It's okay, Ja'Marr bought me another pair.”

“And I'll hide those too. Don't tell me that.”

“But can we talk about last year and fashion week? The Met Gala?” Tiffany asked and you started fanning yourself.

“Two words, back muscles.” You quietly said while winking at Joe.

“No Y/N! No bedroom eyes right now! You're already pregnant and need to behave at least until the panel is over.”

“No promises, Tiffany.”

Joe couldn't even form a sentence because he kept laughing at the two of you. When he finally stopped, he was able to answer the question.

“It was definitely out of my comfort zone and that was actually not the original suit that I was going to wear. I had fun and I'll probably do more in the future. I mean I like to have fun with fashion during the offseason. We're locked down for seven months out of the year so it's nice to have some downtime and I'm going to take advantage of that. I've always liked colors since I was in high school, pink, purple, but not red…”

“Wait, Joe you a crip?” Druski asked and you couldn't hold in your laugh.

“I just don't like red and how it looks on me. The color makes me think of violence.”

“Yeah, he's a crip.” Druski added while a look of shock came across his face.

“No, but maybe one day. You never know.”

“Learn something new everyday. Now onto Y/N. Do you feel that your fashion has changed since you got into the spotlight?”

“Definitely more expensive than it used to be…”

“I know all about that.” Joe added and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Ignoring you over there. But I do like to take risks and I think that's a big deal. Being invited to the Met and trying to do something on theme, but at the same time wanting it to incorporate your style can be fun when you get to choose all the different patterns and colors and to see what looks the best.”

After rating multiple outfits from different celebrities, Tiffany opened up the panel for the audience to ask questions.

“My question is for Y/N. Does it bother you that you're basically looked at as a trophy wife and that Joe's accomplishments overshadow yours?”

You had a look of confusion on your face and Joe of course quickly stepped in to answer.

“Pause, not too much on my wife. Let me stop you right there. I'm answering this because what just came out of your mouth isn't true at all. She can stand all on her own just fine without me seeing as only one of us has been to the Olympics multiple times. And let's be serious, she can probably kick everyone's ass in this room. She is so accomplished and so dedicated to what she does and I'm obviously proud of her. As long as she's happy that's what's important. There is no way in hell that the average everyday person can do what she does. Her saying yes to marry me was a bonus.” 

“Well said and these hormones are probably going to make me cry. But to add to that, I have never felt like I came second to him or that people overlooked me even when we were at LSU together. He supports me at the same level that I support him. I mean just last summer at the Olympics since he couldn’t go because of training camp starting, they surprised him and told him to come an hour early not knowing that they specifically blocked out their morning to watch me compete. And the entire team made a video for me saying how proud they were of me.”

“Very good answers, you two. Now how about you in the pink right there.”

“Hi Joe and Y/N! This is for both of you. Y/N, what was your mindset when the awarding of your medal got reviewed and Joe, how did you help support her through it?”

“Very good question. First off as many people know, no one honestly thought I would be alive to even compete again. I had to learn how to basically do everything all over again and had never trained so hard in order to be able to qualify to go back. So with that being said because of everything that I had gone through it felt like a slap in the face. Like this was supposed to be the ultimate comeback story. Granted, I did walk away with other medals but that one really stung especially knowing that I didn't have as many mistakes as the other competitor.” You replied as you looked over at Joe to continue.

“First off, I've always been confident in my wife's talents and I'm glad we all get to see her thrive in what she's best at because like she mentioned, there was a time where we didn't even think she would be here. When it originally happened, she facetimed me and was obviously crying and upset and I remember her saying that ‘all of my hard work meant absolutely nothing’ and I had to shut it down as soon as she did. I mean they didn't even think she would recover. But she did. They didn't think she would walk again, but she did. So to see her going from laying in a hospital bed intubated and in a coma to competing again is mind blowing and I had to tell her that she beat the odds. That by itself was something for her to be proud of. I'm her biggest fan and she knows it.” Joe confidently answered as you couldn't contain your smile.

“I think we need to have a panel with just Joe and Y/N next year because you two are the picture perfect couple of the sports world.” Tiffany suggested and you simply nodded your head towards her.

“We are not opposed to the idea, but next year there will be four of us instead of two.” You replied while pointing to your belly.

“I can babysit!” Druski yelled out and both you and Joe eyed him.

“Druski, I wouldn't trust you to watch my pet fish.”

“Well do you have one? We can do a trial run.”

“We don't and we're not buying one to test this theory either.”

–

Joe was holding your hand, while your heels were in the other as the two of you were walking to your hotel room. 

It had been a long day or weekend rather, and all you wanted was to lay down and get cuddles from your husband.

“Thank you babe for bringing my flats.” You looked up at him as he just shook his head.

“Don't you think I know you by now? I knew that you wouldn't last in those heels. And you're welcome, pretty girl.”

“But I went almost the entire day! It only got bad in like the last hour and a half.”

“Almost and now your feet are swollen again. You need to elevate them when we get in here.” He replied as he opened the hotel room door and stood to the side to let you in first.

“And a foot rub from my husband!”

“If that's what my wife wants. Anything else?” He asked as you were starting to take off your outfit and get comfortable.

“Just kisses.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Joe told you while he began unbuttoning his shirt.

After doing your nighttime routine and of course making Joe do a face mask with you, the two of you crawl into bed as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Babe?”

“Yes?”

You didn't reply, but instead grabbed his hand and placed it on your stomach so that he could feel the twins kick.

“And thank you for always defending and protecting me.” You finally said and Joe responded by placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Always going to be here to do it no matter what. Like I said earlier, I'm your biggest fan and want you to succeed at everything that you do.”

“And the same goes for you.” 

[spearofheaven]

⋆˚࿔ TILL YOU TELL ME TO LEAVE — situationship! toji fushiguro

SUM. you went out on a date tonight. but toji’s planning to stay until you tell him to go.

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem! reader. 1.3k words. infidelity (ish). reader + toji have sex while she’s on the phone. unprotected p in v. doggy. ass slapping (once). use of pet names. kinda jealous toji (he’s in denial). reader needs to stand up probably.

A/N. congratulations to the lovely pepper (@prosypepper) on 2k! 😽 thank you for hosting!

toji fushiguro was not a jealous man.

he didn’t have anything to get jealous about—you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

and yet all he found himself thinking about when he was pounding you from behind, your nails digging into your sheets below and your cunt gushing and squeezing around his cock like a vice was the fact that you'd dressed up for someone earlier tonight. if he tried hard enough, he could still smell the extravagant scent of the man's axe spray clinging onto your skin.

someone more put together than him, though. that he was sure of. someone that didn't come after the sun had set, leaving before he got too comfortable being around you. before he got used to feeling of your arms clinging onto him in the middle of the night, reaching out just as he's standing up.

even your sweet moans echoing through the room weren't enough to break him out of his thoughts. "so, how'd your little date go?"

you swore your heart nearly dropped to your ass, your grip on the sheets just a little bit tighter. a low sigh left your lips as you turned around to face toji. but before you had the chance to say anything,

bzzt. bzzt. bzzt.

you were planning on ignoring the incessant buzzing on your night stand. maybe text back a half assed apology and say that you were busy. but that wasn't good enough for toji.

of course it wasn't.

"come on, answer it, doll. you have better manners than this," he tutted, passing it over to you. leaving no room to object.

you gave him a glare, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue before reluctantly turning to face your phone again. toji didn't miss that you'd saved the contact under the man's name and (hinge) right next to it. you answered the call at the last ring before it went to voicemail, "hello?"

"hello?" toji mocked right in your ear, fingers rubbing on your clit. if only to get you to slip—to say his name to the man who took you out tonight. casual be damned.

"h-hey!" your date spoke up, almost like he wasn't expecting for you to actually answer the call. "sorry if i'm being a bit forward here, i just wanted to know that you got home safe. i had a lot of fun with you tonight."

"i had a lot of fun too, t-thanks for the dinner," your breath hitched when toji angled his hips, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. the way you gushed and dripped around his cock almost had him convinced you were into this.

toji supposed he got the answer to his question from earlier.

he leaned in, pressing his lips against the side of your neck. biting down hard enough to leave a mark behind, a yelp leaving your lips. you smacked the side of his arm, but he was unmoving. simply soothing the sting on your neck with his tongue.

"are you okay?" the man on the other line suddenly asked, everything else having gone quiet. listening into whatever he could.

"yeah, no, i'm good. just bumped my toe against the side of the table," you responded after a couple seconds, hoping he wouldn't see through your lie.

and the man behind you almost seemed to relish in this. "maybe you should turn the camera on, ma. show him justtt how you like being fucked," toji whispered in your other ear, his fingers drawing torturous circles around your swollen lil' clit.

you could hear your date speaking on the phone, talking about the menu of all things. you could only uh-huh so much before another moan left you again. so you spoke up, "actually, do you mind if i call you tomorrow? i'm kind of busy right now."

you didn't wait to hear his answer, hanging up within seconds.

toji tutted his tongue yet again, staring at you with faux disappointment. barely managing to keep his lips from twitching into a teasing grin, "you didn't have to be so rude, doll. he was so excited to talk to you."

"oh, shove it fushiguro."

"with pleasure, baby." he shoved his cock back inside in a single thrust, knocking out the air out of your lungs. fucking you how he'd been wanting to (and barely resisting) throughout the phone call.

"o-oh fuck!" a loud whine left your lips, his hips snapping against your ass harshly. you buried your head further into the pillow, each muffle and whine muffled.

"could your date fuck you like this, baby?" toji questioned, his hands coming to grip your hips. gripping them like he purposely wanted to indent his fingers onto your skin. leave something of his clinging onto your body. you didn't answer—you both already knew the answer.

"tell me or i'll stop," he warned, cock twitching inside of you as he slowed down. you shook your head, raising it from the pillow before mumbling, "no, no, he couldn't."

one large hand smacked against the plushness of your ass, the fat jiggling under the impact. "louder, i can't hear you." you turned around to spot that same cocky grin on his face, a glare forming on your face.

"no. i said that no, he couldn't fuck me like you do," you relented, letting out a satisfied moan when he sped up again. his balls twacked! twacked! twacked! against your wet cunt, his fingers rubbing your clit in quick circles. you clenched around him tighter like you wanted to milk him dry, his cock sliding in and out of you like a waterpark with how soaked you were.

"gonna cum, keep going, please," you babbled, feeling that pressure building in your lower tummy. your walls constricted against his cock in a rhythmic motion, his own thrusts starting to grow rushed and sloppy.

"not gonna stop, cum all over my dick." your release washed over you with a loud moan, your head falling slack. toji fucked you through your orgasm into his own, following soon after and painting your walls white.

he stayed still for a couple seconds, letting himself catch his breath before pulling out of your twitching pussy. toji leaned in, jaw slack as he sucked the mixture of fluids out of your cunt. cleaning you up with his tongue before swiping a moist rag over your folds.

you knew what was coming next. toji didn't hesitate to grab his clothes off the floor with superhuman speed, pulling them over his body like every second he spent here outside of sex was akin to torture.

"you don't have to leave." you turned to look over at him, slipping your night shirt over your head. "i won't make something big of it, i know we're just sleeping together. so don't worry about me getting my hopes up or anything."

toji couldn't give you anything other than this simple, no strings (or so he thought) attached situation, but he always knew that you deserved more than him. so, he could give you a night. he settled beside you, pulling the blankets up.

toji fushiguro was like a stray dog. enjoying the comforts of domesticity and the feeling of having a temporary home, but only staying around for whatever scraps he could receive before he went out on his way again.

but he decided to stay. he'd be staying as you let him into the comfort of your presence, even if he doesn't give much in return. all he does is worry you senseless, coming to your apartment half bloody at times and gasping for breath. he's aware.

but he'd be staying in your bed and underneath your warm blankets until you finally told him to leave, that you never wanted to see him again.

[arabellasfvv]

MDNI 18+ switch!Kyle also kinda angst, friends to lovers a little, but they dont actually say it? Im on the verge of losing it, so you will have to take this mess and focus on the good in it, thank you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"You ever sub?" The questions is followed by you clearing your throat immediately, realising how raspy your voice had gotten over the past hours. Kyle hands you a cool water bottle, condensation running down the plastic that slicks your palm a little, before anything else.

He's as curious about the question as he is confused. He'd never shown signs of submissions with you... had he? "No," he hums confidently, "Don't think I could." His eyes stay on you. Watching the way your throat bobbed when you swallowedm the way your lips wrapped around the bottles opening— bringing back just the right memories.

A sound of protest leaves you once you pull away from the bottle and place it aside. "Everyone could," you argue. Eyes now flicking from the playing cartoon to your best friend. "Might not be your thing, sure. But don't knock it 'till you try it, right?"

He shakes his head. "Love, I'm a lot. But I'm not submissive."

"You're a soldier." Both his eyebrows shoot up at that. His expression twisting as he tried to understand your point. You shrug once you caught the hint to elaborate. "You listen to orders all day, no? Getting told what to do and when, 'n stuff."

"First off," his voice holds way too much sass for a man his size, "I'm a sergeant—"

"There are ranks above you, still." "Sure, yeah. But I ain't some grunt who just gets told what to do the all the time," he ignores the skeptical expression on your face. "Even if, there's a difference between submitting to hierarchy on a job that, y'know, pays me, and submitting in a sexual setting."

You stare at him in that way he despises. The way that makes him feel all exposed, like you're sitting right on his brain and digging around, as if his sould is bared to you. He knows you can't actually read people that well, unfortunately that doesnt make your stare any less unsettling.

Kyle tries to change the subject, starting to blabber about God and the world. But you're not listening. Too focused on your imagination, how he'd look splayed out, panting and dripping with sweat, brain melting out of his ears.

There was nothing that could convince you he wouldn't look absolutely beautiful out off control for once. Just a desperate mess under your command.

You understood his hesitance. You rarely fully submitted to anyone either, not unless they had fucked you absolutely dumb. And his past girlfriends... well, what to say about them? It may have been personal bias, some underlying feeling that gnawed at you, but you never felt they were right for Kyle. He never seemed truly lovestruck with any of them. So of course, the kind of trusted needed for him to submit was never built.

But you weren't them. You were his best friend. His best friend he fucked, too often almost. You two had seen eachother in all kinds of vulnerable in the many years you'd been friends. Submission wasn't outlandish that to think about, was it?

"Why not try?" You interrupted, head tilting to empathise the question. "Scared you'll like it too much?" Your lips tugged up into a little smile, knowing that if you'd get too serious with your questions, force him to be vulnerable, he'd just shut down.

He huffs, deflecting. As if he could ever like submitting. But before he can protest you speak again.

"You just wanna be good, no? Keep your hands clean while fighting to keep the world clean, too?" Nevermind sparing his feelings. You knew you hit, hell dropkicked onto, a button when his face pinches together. His tongue wetting his lips, dragging along his lips that, he's contemplating, you know.

"This would be so much easier. You'd just have to let me make you feel good to be a good boy. No responsibility."

You adore how you can get to him, how his Adams apple bobs when your words echo in his mind. No responsibility. He hates to admit it, but its what he needed. Some deep, neglected part of him just needed to give himself away. He wasnt sure if he could allow himself that though. With everything he'd done, did he really deserve to relax?

Did he deserve to lie atop soft sheets bed while bodies lay in the cold earth because of him?

Did he deserve to let go of the guilt while leaving rotting corpes wherever he went?

Did he deserve peace when his actions buried families beneath rubble, when he was at fault for turning loving homes into places of mourning?

Did he deserve to feel the security of knowing while children sat on their front steps staring into the distance with wide and eager eyes hoping to see their daddy again?

Did he deserve someone loving him after hearing the screams of lovers as he ripped their partners away from them, after he'd walked away from their mourning with no apologies?

He was snapped out of his train of thought by a familiar weight settling on his lap. A soft palm resting against his stubbly jaw, turning his head upwards to meet eyes that held no pain. That held no anger against the things he'd done.

And by that voice that haunted his gentler dreams. "You're doing it again, Kyle. Getting lost up in that pretty head of yours."

"That's my line," he whispered, trying to pull away from the guilt that was trying to pull him into a dark abyss.

He melts a little, the smile you give being a reassurance of its own. You were a good person, you had morals. Fuck, you were like an angel walking on earth, born to look past the evil and make the best of things. The fact you weren't disgusted by him was like forgiveness.

Not enough to truly be at ease— that was a dream he'd given up on long ago, true peace would never wander into his life— but enough to make him feel something other than pure disgust at himself. This shell of the boy he once was.

"Let me make you feel good. You can say no, I'll stop whenever you need me to. But give me a chance?" You weren't sure where this enegry came from. You'd finished round six, maybe seven, with him barely half an hour ago. But seeing him withdraw into his mind, into those thoughts that only got spoken out loud when he was intoxicated, those thoughts that left his body tight and tense, his eyes casted anywhere but your own, made you want to pull him out so desperately.

He nods, and in that same breath your lips press against his own. Your free hand comes down to rest against his chest, feeling how his heart was drumming against his ribcage like a little humming bird. His own hands don't find their place.

He's usually so confident, every touch almost methodical, planned to guarantee to make you fall apart beneath him. Now that you weren't the focus he was confused, a fish out of water. His lips just reciprocating, not taking.

You allow him to breathe once you realise how choked up his breaths were coming out. Though, you barely pull away, lingering with your nose bumping against his own. Your lips parted just a hair away from his own, neither of you is really getting oxygen with close you are, just panting into eachothers mouth without actually touching.

"You're okay," you promise, you swear.

"I'm okay," he repeats, not entirely convinced. But he wants to be, needs to believe.

"You're in control." He's not, not really. He has to power to shut it all down, to escape. But nothing more.

"I'm in control." He knows he's not. Especially not with how he shudders when your lips start to place kisses against his jaw line. It feels silly when his finger hooks into the waistband of your panties, like he's trying to keep you from escaping. But you don't comment on it, just smile against his skin in silent amusement.

"I'm not going anywhere." Your promises are overwhelming. No, you won't go anywhere, that has always been a silent acknowledgement between the two of you. But hearing it out loud was different. It was so simple, and somehow it made his mind go hazy. Your lips wander against his neck, and he doesn't take more than a second to tilt his neck to give you more access.

But he isnt satisfied by that for long. Your lips on him are heavenly, making his body twitch and grow impossibly hotter. The little nips and licks you add in between make him dizzy, and kyle prays to whatever God is out there that you're biting hard enough to leave marks on his skin. But needs your taste again, needs his lips to have purpose. So he's tugging at your neck, not wanting to say the words, but still needing you to understand.

And you do, somehow. Coming back up to connect your lips. You swallow down your own desperation, that need to just do anything. This was about being in control, to allow Kyle to come undone. So when your hand palmed his growing bulge, giving it a squeeze and his lips part in a suprised groan your tongue pushed past them and into his mouth.

So this is how it feels for you, huh? Normally he's the one with his tongue in your mouth, and he tries to turn it around for a moment. To get that usual feeling of your tongue pushing against his. But you dont let him.

You taste both yourself and him on his tongue. Hints of your slick and his spunk from when when he'd eaten you out with fervour earlier making you moan into his mouth. The familiarity of it the most delicious thing you've had in a while.

His hips are bucking up, trying to find you, grind the growing ache inside his boxers away.

You've never seen him so sloppy and uncoordinated, drool slipping past the corners of his mouth, hands just fumbling and tugging around your body. "Please," he needs more, so clearly, and the fact you still seem composed is infuriating.

You pull away far enough to see him, breaking the string of spit connecting the both of you. It's just like you imagined, needy as usual. Pupils blown and unfocused, lips reddened and inviting. But he's looking up at you now. Waiting for direction.

He grips your body tighlty the moment you try to get off his lap. You can't leave. Where do you wanna go anyway? He's right here and he needs you, "Stay."

"I told you I'm not going anywhere," you assure again, gently prying his fingers off you until they were loose enough for you to slip out of his grasp. Kneeling down infront of the couch, waiting for him to shift so you could sit between his legs.

The impulse to tease him was there, to just lap at his cock until he couldn't take it anymore. Watch the exact moment he'd lose it. But that impulse was overridden by the desire to make him feel good. You'd make him fall apart, and while your first plan was doing it through far too much teasing, now you just wanted him to feel good. Tugging down his boxers, humming a "Good boy," when he automatically lifted his hips to help you out, you threw them somewhere to his side.

He was already rock hard (again), light drips of pre-cum gathering at his flushed tip. Your tongue extended to lick them up, inching closer until your pretty lips could wrap around the head.

Taking the rest of his aching cock into your hand, not really stroking it. Just letting your fingers trace along the bulging veins. When his hand comes to rest on the back of your head and he tries to thrust into your mouth, you pull off. Leaving him whining and pouting. "None o' that, sweetheart. I'll give ya what you need. You don't take it, yeah?" He has to take a few deep breaths to process your words. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

You nod, happy he's listening. You take him back into your mouth, this time taking every inch you can. You gag when your nose hits his pubes, but the sound he lets out is worth it. You let your tongue follow the veins around the length when you pull back. But when he tries to push your head back, you hold back against the touch. And all you have to do is look up, let your eyes meet his, and the pressure on your head is released. "I'm sorry, fuck— I'm sorry, love. You just... please. Please, your mouth is so good."

Good enough. You let him rest in your mouth for a moment, tongue doing its best to swirl around the girth and lap up whatever his dripping tip had to give. Slowly you start to push your head back onto him, moving it back and forth while hollowing out your cheeks.

And Kyle could come just from that sight, the goddamn vision you were. Swollen lips stretching around his cock, the way your hand rests on his thigh, thumb stroking calming circles around the muscles, your throat bulging to accommodate him. He tenses when your other hand sneaks up his thigh, nail polish contrasting against his skin, because he knows what youre about to do.

It's not fair, he's still sensitive, and the way you're forcing his mind to be a mess is torture. And now your hand was fondling his balls, lightly tugging at them every now and then. His head falls back against the couch, eyes screwing shut. He can't look at you without coming too quick.

Unfortunately for him, with his vision gone everything else gets worse.

Suddenly he can smell your perfume lingering in the air of his apartment, the fading smell of sex that the open window can't fully get rid off. The wet sounds of your mouth slobbering up his cock, the little sounds you let when he gets too deep and you gag, he swears he can hear every tiny shift of your body. And all he can taste is you, that goddamn kiss.

His thighs start trembling underneath your palm, his dick starts to twitch in your mouth, and when you look up you see how tense he is, how hard he is trying to hold back. You pull off, wrapping your hand around him and stroke— you didn't want to take him away from the edge after all. "Let go, darling. This is for you." You encourage before taking him back into your mouth.

It was embarrassing, what your voice did to him. It always sounded right, settling over him like a cozy blanket. And underneath the comfort of it, the echo drilled into the deepest corners of his mind, scratching itches he didn’t even know were there.

It was familiar. It was safe. The voice he wished for every time he was with someone else. Because no one had ever made him feel quite like you did. No one ever would.

Once his whimpers turned into choked up moans, and his balls started to tighten and twitch underneath your palm you took him deeper. Sliding the length across your tongue until it hit the back of your throat, cheeks hallowed again, tongue lapping as best as it could in the confines of your own mouth.

The moan came from the both of you when his warm, salty spunk started spurting down your throat. It was over quick, since most his spunk had ended up in your cunt a earlier, but it was just as good.

You pull off with a pop once his dick stops throbbing. Smirking at the way he squirm away when you clean him up with your tongue.

You want more, so much more. Want him sinking deeper into the couch, his voice raspy and barely comprehensible. Needed to see him go dumb, and pliable under your control.

Once he managed to lift his head again, eyes blinking open, you stand up. And you're so fucking ready for round two nine, that ache between your legs stronger than ever.

But he's not ready. You can the sense of post nut clarity that hit him. The way he sits up wasn't fatigue from his orgasm, it was something that sat deeper within him. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling your standing form closer so he could rest his head against your chest.

This went far from what you had in mind, the opposite of how you wanted him. But hell, he was your best friend, and you'd rather die than not comfort him. There was always time to try again.

One hand went to rest against his shoulder, a firm touch keeping him, or attempting to keep him in this reality, in the current here and now. The other cradling his head, holding him close to you, letting him hear your rapid heartbeat.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't start that. You ain't done nothing wrong, pretty boy." Pretty boy, he hated that name. It made him feel like some soft thing instead of the trained killer he was.

You stay like this for a while, letting him try and come down from whatever feeling had gripped him so fiercely. Your fingers massage along his scalp, a habit at this point. And he wishes this could go on forever. That he could just carry your touch with him, carry it in a case like he does his cigarettes. Something gentle to soothe his sould. Instead of the poison that takes over his body, and makes your nose crinkle in disapproval when he mentions it.

But alas, your body was worn from the night. Standing too long was starting to have effect on your legs, so you grip his head a little firmer to pull him away. Making him look up at you like a kitten scruffed against its will. "How 'bout we take a shower? God knows we both need one." Kyle's lips already parted to protest, to argue about staying this way just a little longer.

Until the words hit. We take a shower. WE.

That's not something you'd done before. You two had fucked, cuddled, went out together, and gotten into all kinds of trouble. But showering and bathing together always seemed a step too far, a step too intimate.

Which is exactly why he wasn't gonna turn it down, jumping up hitting his head right against your chin. Making you wince. "Shite, fuck, im sorry, love." His calloused palm quickly cradled your face, looking you over. Fuck, your chin was already growing red, and you'd probably bitten your tongue too. He's such an idiot! And he feels so so so bad. "Didn't mean to do that."

You just laugh him off. Yes, that hurt like shit cause that man has a head that is definitely harder than normal. But you'd been through much worse. Placing a quick peck against the corner of his mouth you start to tug him along into the bathroom.

The sound of the shower starting fills the small bathroom, you're tripping your clothes, well, your panties and socks off. And Kyle is just staring. He'd seen you naked so often, could tell his mates about the exact placement of every mole and scar on your body just from memory. But this wasn't nudity out of lust... it was out of intimacy?

Thats what he was convincing himself off. Maybe you just saw this casual, maybe you'd done this with plenty of men and just stopped caring. But he didn't want this to be the case,he wanted to be one you could be that vulnerable with him. Gulping down his own saliva was like choking down a rock once he saw you step under the steaming water—

Bloody steaming? There's no way you actually showered that hot. Fuckin' hell. He's careful when he steps in after you, his hand dipping beneath the hot stream and he immediately pulls away with a hiss. "No, way. No ma'am. Nuh uh."

Your eyes crack open at his protests, "Can't handle a bit of heat, sergeant?" You tease, your voice so light it floats right to his head. "I can handle bloody heat. I can't handle water that's trying to boil me alive!"

You chuckle at the dramatics, but turn down the heat nonetheless.

And that fills him with guilt all over again.

You’re so perfect. So pretty. So nice. You move around his needs without complaint, without hesitation, like it’s easy. And he knows he’s done nothing to deserve it.

He’s gruff. Scars littering his body and sould. Blood on his hands. He felt like a walking bad omen. He had no right to pull you into this life, no right to keep anyone close, not when everything he touches either breaks or leaves. There’s a reason he's alone more these days. A reason he’s single, a reason every woman before you eventually walked away. His only friends are his teammates. And you. Fucking you.

You’ve been there so long, it almost terrifies him. Sometimes he really wonders if God sent you down just for him. Why else would you stay? If you had a choice, you should’ve left a long time ago. So maybe you didn’t. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe you were tied to him, sent onto this earth for him, by some kind of divine being that knew he'd need saving before he ever did.

He's once again snapped out off his thoughts by you. By who else? Being tugged under the, now tolerable, water. Brown eyes landing on your wet body, it had to be divine intervention. Theres no way a human could look this... lovely under shitty bathroom lightning with the steam curling around them, skin glowing.

He suddenly grabbed you. The fear of you being unreal taking over, he just had to feel for himself.

He wanted to cry. He wouldn't, no he'd choke that down until it was physically impossible. Your skin was so supple, so soft underneath him. It was so right. So— "Too tight, kyle." His eyes snapped to yours, and everything crashes down again. He's on a wild rollercoaster of emotions right now, its enough to make nauseous. The way he keep snapping from one to another.

You don't allow him to apologise, or pull his hand away like you knew he wanted to. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, making sure it stayed on your body. His touch didn't automatically meant harm, he'd gripped a bit too tight, not ripped your damn bones straight out, it was okay. And he needed to know that.

And maybe he doesnt know, he probably can't actually believe it. But he accepts it, because you make the laws. If you allow him to feel, he will feel, and if you stay his touch is allowed, ten he can touch. But he remains careful when he pulls you close, cradling the back of your head to let it rest against his shoulder while his other arm firmly rests around your waist.

You took a second to adjust your head so you wouldn't feel like drowning under the water stream with him, before hugging him back. Arms wrapped around his torso, letting one hand rub up and down the length of his wet back.

"Your water bill is gonna be high if we stay like this yanno.." "Shut up, love." You smile against his skin but does as he says.

"Let me make you feel good?"

The words come so out of the blue it throws you off. The man was on the verge of crying a minute go and now he wants sex again? Man, oh man. "Kyle," you sigh, ready to protest. You'd rather have him open up about his emotions than deflect his way.

To him it wasnt a way of deflection. It wasn't to distract him, but to deal with the inadequacy he felt torward you. Higher beings had the right to be to worshipped, to feel good at all times. Instead of dealing with big ol' messes like himself. "Please."

Goddamn those big, brown eyes. You could say no if you really wanted to. But you'd be lying if there wasn't still a small ache between your legs, and if he was just short of begging.. why deny yourself? "One round."

"Thank you." And God knows he's truly grateful when the hand on your head let's go and slips between your bodies. "You're so beautiful, love..."

He relishes the way your body arches against him when a calloused palm cups your breast, squeezing the malleable tissue to watch it spill out between his fingers. His firm grip switched from the left to the right, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers.

Until youre squirming under his appreciation. The arm holding you close won't let you pull doesn't allow you a moment of respite. Forcing you to just feel as he forces your nipples to grow hard and sensitive. He's pressing a kiss against your head when you start to whine, his silent way of praising you for enduring it. As if you had any choice.

Kyle's hand doesn't once leave your body as it starts to wander down, knowing the moment he wasnt holding on his hand would start to tremble and itch to have you back, to have your skin be a grounding presence again.

"You're so good fo' me, baby. You're so damn good." He whispers against your hair. The fact his fingers had slipped between your slicked up folds, gathering your dripping arousal so he can coat your clit in it, doesnt match the tone of his voice. It's broken, like he's on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

"Kyle..." you know he won't pull away, he can't. Your hips jerk when his fingers apply just the right pressure, find the perfect rhythm against your clit, and the rest of your sentence falls flat. You shift as much as possible so you could press your lips against his shoulders and neck, blanketing the bare area in your unspoken love. Love you'd never come to terms with and yet expressed so freely.

His fingers curl tighter around your waist once you do. Part of him wanting to beg for more, beg for your lips all over his skin, cover every inch in your adoration. And the other wants to plea for you to stop, wants to tell you how much he doesn't deserve it. How you don't deserve to be ruined by his rotten self.

He did neither, opting to bite his lips and shut his eyes instead. Ignore the thoughts and focus on the feeling. Especially the feeling when his fingers slipped lower again, searching for your sticky entrance that was as eager as ever to take his fingers. Two of them slipping right in without issue, causing you to pause for just a second. Automatically you try to grind down on them, make them hit the spot.

Suddenly you're pressed against the still cold tiles of the shower, making you let out an undignified squeak in suprise. And Kyle's body is no easier to get past than a wall, so youre left with no choice but to rest against the tile whilst his fingers start intently curling inside of you.

"What's this earth done to deserve you? What have I done to deserve you? Huh?"

"God, wh— a-ahhh fuck.. what's up with.. nghh— with you tonight, man?"

It's starting to be confusing, but you're not looking for an answer. Not really. Not when you think about whatever heavy thing is running through his mind. He's seen things. Done things. The kind you could barely process when they were brought up, and then would go on to haunt your dreams. You're not sure you're ready to hear what it is about.

You’re not sure you could handle it if it were you.

If he had fallen for you. If he did think about you when he was with other women. If you really did haunt his dreams, the way he’s been haunting yours for far too long. But that… that just couldn't happen. So you stay quiet, only letting the moans slip past your lips while digging your fingers into his broad shoulders, and hope. Hope he won't give you an answer.

He wants to tell you. Needs to tell you its you. Its always been you.

Always will be.

But you were right, it just wasn't something that could happen. So he only responded with a, totally unrelated, kiss. Forcing his lips onto yours with pure desperation, swallowing up every moan you let out when his fingertips brushed against that gummy spot inside of you again and again. Pushing his tongue into the heat of your mouth as his other hand came down to play with your clit.

This was better, familiar. That sense of control was back, and he realised once again how good it felt to take care of you. How much better he felt when you were receiving the pleasure instead of him.

Spit was starting to pool in both your mouths, so he took that opportunity to pull back, just for him to shower you with praise. "Good girl. You're so bloody perfect, love. Shit, loot at that... so gorgeous." But the breathy whispers only sate him for so long before he has to claim your lips again. Going on until you're breathless again.

"Too good for this world, I swear," he mutters as he watches the string of saliva break when your head falls back against the wall. You're glad the words don't fully register in your mind, too focused on all the different touches he's laying on you.

You still grab his neck to pull his lips back to yours when he stays away for too long. And he's eager to comply, closing his eyes so your taste and sounds could take over his mind.

There was no reward quite like when your lips would fall open, not even trying to kiss back anymore too focused on his fingers findind the perfect rhythm together, but youre not pulling away.

Your brain stops for a moment when your orgasm crawls up on you, unable to do anything but pant against him needy whines slipping past, while your hips grind down, trying to get there faster. Chasing the inevitable.

Your hand slams against the fogged up shower door, fingers curling, dragging down letting your trembly hand leave an imprint. The shower's steam clings to your skin, mixing with the heat already flooding your body. You're burning from the inside out, sweat and condensation sliding down your neck, dripping down between yoir breast, and it only makes everything worse. Maybe better. You're not sure anymore.

You're close, right where you need to be.

The heat low in your belly coils tighter pulsing with need. The pressure builds but you stay right there, on that damn edge. You're trying to push yourself over it, try to make that knot rip that's sending goosebumps all over your body. But you can't.

Cause you're thinking about it. Kyle knows. Of course he does. He starts to pull away to focus his lip on your jawline instead, kissing and nibbling on the skin, listening as your whines grow more desperate. You just needed to come so bad, huh? Sweet thing, he'll make sure you will.

He licks into your ear in a way you can't tell if its supposed to be teasing or intimate, either way it makes your hips jerk. "Kyle— Kyle— ah aah.. please. C'mon, please."

"I know, I know, love. Stop thinking, dont focus on that pretty head while you're feeling this good." Damn his voice— because it works.

Your mind stops thinking about wanting that orgasm, instead focusing on the heat of his breath against your ear. The way it shifts to the crook of your neck when he nuzzles his face against it. You focus on how full his fingers alone have you, how his thumb is so perfectly applying pressure where you need it the most.

And how nice his presence is. Despite everything he's always been a safe place. A quiet place. Where no judgment, and no expectations loomed. Just you two being you. Yes, the darkness clings to him, lingers in the air. But he never allows it to come close enough to burn. Never strong enough to swallow you both.

And you think that does it, that sense of security. Or maybe not. It didn’t matter. All that matter was that rushing feeling in your body, sending every tingly feeling to your core. Your body is presses tighter against the wall, because Kyle wouldn't want your trembling legs to be the cause of you falling.

He spills out some praise, but it goes in one ear and out the other. Everything is muffled, thank God because the sound of pleasure you let out could not have been dignified. He's groaning at the feeling of your pussy, hot and slick, clenching around his fingers. And he swears he can feel that little pulse your clit gains, and its fucking delicious. Biting into your neck hard enough to leave his teeth imprinted before decorating it with a purple hickey as his hands slow down. Making sure to match your movements and let you down gently from the orgasm.

"Just like tha'... shhh, you did so good, love, so good." You slump against him when he finally pulls his fingers off, face burying itself into his shoulder. You don't see, but you hear his fingers coming up to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lick up the milky substance that was starting to coat your inner thighs as well.

"Thank you..." "Not for that."

He pats your back gently while contemplating. He knows you said one round. But it doesnt feel enough, a woman like you could have enough pleasure in his mind. You deserved so much more. So the moment your legs start to be steady again he's on his knees. Soft brown eyes looking up at you for permission, firm hands already working on spreading your thighs a little wider for him.

"No, please," you whimper, tensing a little because you'd gone at it so often today. There had to be a limit.

But fuck. You know how good he is with his mouth, and really, you never did get enough of him. The way he's looking at you, flicking his eyes torward the wetness between your legs like its life's fucking essence... yeah, you're not sure if you're no really is a no.

This was supposed to be way longer. But I cannot anymore.

[louislittletomlintum]

fics I've read this year (so far) and loved!

i go through fits and spurts of reading fic but i'm always so grateful when i end up on someone else's rec list, so i wanted to try my hand at making one of my own!

below is a mix of fics - they'll all be 1D, but that's about all I can guarantee as far as content goes. hope you find something you enjoy!

Wrong Side Of Love by scottmcniceass 37k | explicit | ziam bodyswap | 2013

Zayn and Liam wake up in each other's bodies.

i loved this!! such a 2013 fic in all the right ways to make me nostalgic i was craving some ziam recently and this really hit the spot

Dull Light, Sharp Edges by finelinefeelings 54k | explicit | strangers to lovers | 2025

harrys never been lonelier and thats when he meets bridgeboy, a homeless louis who can avoid questions like no other. naturally he brings him home.

this is by my lovely friend chess and its such a soft and gentle fic even if you want to bang their heads together bc they're being such boys about the whole thing - plus it has the realest first kiss scene i've ever read!

Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover by @lovingstheantidote 6k | explicit | strangers to (pasta) lovers | 2021

Louis is infatuated by the hot new pasta chef. He gets so much more than just dinner.

im so glad nikki started reblogging my fics so i had the push to read this one!! it's such a sweet little fic until it's naughty and i looove the theming around the pasta and to steal my own quote from my comment on the fic it was executed al dente 🍝

Some Girls by Rave 8k | explicit | ziam but zayn wakes up as a girl | 2013

“I did some research,” Liam says, busily pulling up Safari. His voice sounds masterfully, miraculously steady in his own ears. “I think probably the best thing to do is like, get to know yourself. Um. And your, like. New equipment." Zayn wakes up a girl. Liam tries to be helpful.

this might be my all time fave ziam smut - or maybe I'm just nostalgic for it because I read it so many times back in the day. soooo sexy and sensual and a lovely exploration of it all - and three different parts to look forward to!!

Let Your Tears Fall (No I Won't Judge You) by @loveislarryislove 8k | explicit | identity exploration for larry | 2024

Four times Harry cries during sex. And four times Louis is right there beside him, giving him all the comfort and support and validation he needs.

i genuinely loved this one so much!! there's something so special to me about exploration of asexuality/asexual themes and finding a partner that works alongside it and supports you. it's so sweet (i say about what is arguably quite a smutty fic lmfao)

It All Comes Out in the Wash by @ltwritten 18.5k | teen and up | h is a ghost | 2024

Harry’s a ghost that’s been stuck in a laundromat for 70 years. And Louis is so in love that he can’t imagine being without him.

this is another by a lovely little friend on twitter - such an endearing fic. i was initially a little hesitant bc i am a scaredy cat when it comes to angst and i thought ghost might equal angst but it really doesn't!! it's so sweet and cute and the push that really got me to read it was ghost h collects buttons 🥺

Just Us by orphan account 54k | explicit | ot5 | 2013

University!AU (kind of, very little University actually involved). Louis and Harry have decided, as Harry is going off to Australia for way too long, to be non-exclusive. Now all Louis has to do is actually find someone other than Harry that he wants to fuck.

there is truly nothing like a 2013 ot5 fic i have to say it!!!! this one is very sweet and covers a lot of different dynamics that all blend together so beautifully!!!

You've Begun To Feel Like Home by @calumsboy 65k | explicit | larry | 2025

a story about healing, belonging, friendship, and romantic love that sneaks in like sand between your toes.

another bestie alert!!! this is the angstiest thing (imo) that you'll find on this list bc i am a pussy but it is so gorgeous and c really did an amazing job with it - it's a beautifully crafted world and louis' character development is so gorgeous to read

all the sins you didn't have by @brooklyn-babylon / @twopoppies 99k | explicit | historical larry | 2025

It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron.

this one really captured me!! it also inspired me to write my own historical fic (though a different time period but nevertheless) - you really get sucked into the world and so invested in the characters. one of those ones where you feel like you're reading a book!!

to be loved (and to be in love) by @blueneptuune 20k | teen and up | larry abo | 2024

After a few years trying to make it on his own, Harry is forced to return home due to his worsening conditions. He expects the experience to be nothing short of humiliating, but it turns out kindness is lingering in the strangest of places -- you just have to be brave enough to ask for help.

such a gorg touch depri centred fic!! i loved how the author takes you through harry's emotions so carefully and how caring they wrote louis. and if i'm not mistaken, i think they're a fellow nz author!! 🇳🇿

And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic 22k | explicit | poly ot4 | 2019

Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

ot4 poly rise (so sorry niall but like... this is where it's at). there really just is something so lovely about poly negotiations in fic and especially with the boys because you can see it going so many different directions. this one even managed to convince me on the lirry which is no small feat (lmfao)

Angels Fly by LilyBlue28 203k | explicit | larry abo shifter fic | 2022

Harry is a lonely omega in the North Western White River Pack who is uncharacteristically drawn to nature and his now outdated primal instincts. But what happens when one day he spots the pack alpha, Louis, having an intimate moment with something, or someone, unexpected? 

there is truly nothing like a fic where they actually shift into wolves lmfao. this one is a rollercoaster, filled with lots of ups and downs for the pair of them but the thing that strikes me most is i can still recall my imagined scene for where h spends most of his time and that means its stayed with me right?

butterflies caught on film by @sunflower-sue 25k | explicit | strangers to lovers | 2025

One sunny spring day in London, Harry takes a film photo of a beautiful stranger in the park. He insists that Harry must send him the photo, and together they fall into a whirlwind romance. Butterflies. So many butterflies.

such a cutie patootie fic with pilates panties power bottom princess harry and a very kind and caring louis - some miscommunication but if there's none of that then how would we have this fic? 🦋 also by a lovely bestie so you'll note i am quite partial to reading people's fics who interact with me lmfao

The Thrill of the Chase (Are You Mine?) by @silverstuff50 29k | explicit | larry abo | 2024

Louis is feral. Harry fucks up.

this was so lovely!! very well written and very carefully manages the feral state - h definitely does fuck up but i like to think he makes it right!

The Touch Of Your Hand by @emilarry 8k | explicit | dick piercing oriented | 2023

Louis has decided to bite the bullet and get himself a dick piercing. He knows it’s going to hurt, but what he doesn’t know is how to calm down when he finds himself on the brink of a panic attack in front of the incredibly attractive piercer, Harry. Luckily, Harry is really sweet and offers to help ease his nerves.

yet another bestie alert!!! this one is so fun and takes client comfort to a whole new level!!! also i specifically love at the start where h makes fun of zayn for being cut lmfao we lowkey need more anatomy specific fics 👀

Desire Paths by @hazelteadreams 150k | mature | magic infused love | 2025

On the Cheshire Plain, in a small, queer town called Whylom Green, a peculiar old manor house and its adjoining meadow are teeming with magic. When charming newcomer Louis Tomlinson spots the unusual place from the road, he has no way of predicting how the home and its caretaker, Dr. Harry Styles, will alter the course of his life. Can Louis, heart unmoored, put down an anchor? Can Harry, lost at sea, accept a helping hand? Can their collective friends and family, a motley crew of farmers and artists and lovers and witches, give them a reason to hope again?

this was my last read for this half of the year and it is so gorgeous!!! you can really feel the love and care that went into crafting this fic - even down to the cartography (the author literally has a map for the small town its set in and it's so cute!!!). there's really something special about a fic when you're uncovering a mystery alongside the characters and i can say i've truly never read anything like it!!

and that's (some of) what I've read in 2025! i hope you find something you like!!

still not enough? check out the (much smaller) rec list over on @zourryficfest - we will be posting a (zourry focussed) rec list each month until October, and then from November we'll start posting the new fics our authors have written for the fest!!

stiiill not enough? i also write fics (a bit of shameless self promotion never hurt anyone lmfao)

[rubywillkins]

Kiss Me Before the Words Hurt Too Much|oneshots

Charles leclerc

“I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you…”

The rain had just started to fall over Monte Carlo, turning the city gold and gray in equal measure. The windows of Charles’ apartment fogged slightly as the tension in the room pressed against them — heavy, sharp, and unspoken for too long.

He stood by the counter, jaw clenched, arms crossed. You were near the door, your shoes still on, like you weren’t sure if you were staying.

“You keep shutting me out, Charles,” Y/N said softly, her voice tight with frustration. “I ask you how you’re doing and you say ‘fine.’ I ask what’s wrong and you give me silence.”

Charles looked down, brows furrowed. “Because sometimes I don’t know how to explain it,” he murmured, voice strained. “Because I’m tired, Y/N. I give everything out there—on track, in front of cameras—and when I come home, I’m just... worn out.”

She exhaled sharply, the words hitting her in the chest. “And I’m not asking you to perform for me. I’m asking you to talk to me. I’m not some reporter trying to get a headline, Charles. I’m yours.”

That made him look up.

Those brown eyes — usually warm, now clouded with guilt — met hers. The kind of gaze that felt like it reached right through her skin.

“I know you are,” he whispered. “And that’s exactly why it’s hard sometimes. Because if I tell you how much it hurts, how afraid I am of letting everyone down—of letting you down—then it becomes real. Too real.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten. All her anger, the sharp edges of her tone, softened in an instant.

She took a step forward, boots clicking on the floor.

“You don’t have to protect me from the ugly parts, Charles,” she said. “That’s not how love works.”

He didn’t respond. His fingers tapped anxiously on the side of his arm. The silence stretched again — the kind that was starting to break her heart more than the words.

And so, before she could think about what came next — before pride, or pain, or fear stopped her — Y/N walked straight up to him and kissed him.

Hard. Honest. Desperate.

Charles froze for a second.

Then melted.

His arms unwrapped from around himself and wrapped around her instead, pulling her in like he was holding the only thing that tethered him to earth. His lips moved against hers with a quiet kind of urgency, like this kiss was his way of speaking when words had failed him.

When they finally pulled back, breathless and close, his forehead rested against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hands cradling her waist like she was breakable. “You’re the only place I feel safe. That scares me sometimes.”

Y/N smiled, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “Then stop running from it, and let me be that place.”

His lips ghosted over hers again — this time slow, reverent.

“I love you,” he murmured, like a promise. “Even when I don’t say it. Even when I’m a mess.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I kissed you.”

Outside, the rain kept falling.

Inside, so did the walls between them.

Lewis Hamilton

“I need you ...

I'm ready to love you…”

The hotel suite was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. London pulsed beyond the windows — alive, indifferent — but inside, everything felt stuck. The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful. It was too sharp. Too full.

Lewis sat on the edge of the couch, hunched forward, hands clasped between his knees. Y/N stood by the table, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw set.

She was trying — again. And he was… distant. Again.

“You say you're okay, but I can see it, Lewis,” she said quietly, pain lacing each word. “You come home and you vanish. You don’t let me in anymore.”

He rubbed his jaw, not looking at her. “It’s just been a lot lately.”

“That’s not an answer,” she snapped, a little harsher now. “I’m not your PR team. I’m not asking for a statement. I’m asking for you.”

That made him finally meet her eyes — and what she saw made her stomach twist. Not anger. Not apathy.

Exhaustion.

His voice was low. “Do you have any idea how heavy it feels? To walk around with a target on your back, trying to be perfect, to represent something bigger than yourself—then to come home and feel like even that’s not enough?”

Y/N’s breath caught.

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said, softer now. “But sometimes I don’t know how to carry all of it. So I carry it alone.”

She crossed the room slowly, heart thudding in her chest. “I never asked you to carry it alone.”

Lewis looked down, shoulders tense. “It’s not about you. It’s about me not knowing how to break without letting everyone down.”

A long pause.

Her hand reached up and touched his shoulder, then the side of his face. “You’re allowed to break. You just can’t keep shutting me out when you do.”

He still didn’t speak.

So she kissed him.

Not with fire. Not out of anger.

She kissed him like he was a wound she was willing to hold. Gentle. Firm. Intentional.

Her hands on his face, thumb brushing against his cheek, as if to say “You’re not alone anymore.”

Lewis didn’t move for a second. Then he sank into it like a dam finally giving way.

His hands gripped her waist, forehead resting against hers when they pulled back. His eyes were glassy, raw in a way only she ever got to see.

“I’m scared,” he murmured. “Of failing. Of being too much. Not enough.”

“You’re everything,” she whispered back. “To me, you’re everything.”

He nodded slightly, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Thank you for kissing me,” he said. “I didn’t even realize how much I needed it.”

“I know,” she smiled faintly, brushing his curls away from his face. “That’s why I did it.”

And for the first time that night, he smiled — just a little — but it was real.

Carlos Sainz

“When you love someone ...

You open up your heart…”

The sound of the front door clicking shut echoed through the quiet apartment. Rain had just started outside, tapping softly against the windows, as if trying to fill the space between two people who had suddenly stopped knowing what to say.

Carlos stood near the kitchen, hand running through his hair. His brows were drawn together — not in anger, but in confusion. Hurt. A rare thing for him.

“You could’ve just told me,” he said finally, not looking at her. “If you didn’t want me at the event, you didn’t have to make excuses.”

Y/N stood in the middle of the living room, arms loosely crossed, more defensive than she meant to be.

“I wasn’t making excuses,” she muttered. “I just needed some space.”

His eyes finally met hers. “From me?”

A beat passed.

“I’m not… used to needing someone this much,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “It scares me. When you’re gone for weeks, when I don’t know what city you’re in, when I can’t be part of that world—sometimes I feel like I don’t belong in your life.”

Carlos took a slow breath, his voice low. “And so you push me away.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“But you do,” he said gently. “And I let you. Because I think ‘okay, maybe she needs air.’ But I’m also here thinking—why won’t she just talk to me?”

Her throat tightened. She hated that he was right. He always read her too well.

“Because I’m not good at this,” she said, frustrated now — more with herself than him. “I’m not good at being vulnerable. You’re so calm, so steady. And I’m just—”

“Mine,” he said simply.

That stopped her.

“You’re just mine,” Carlos repeated. “Messy or not. Guarded or open. I don’t care. But you don’t get to decide you’re not part of my life. That’s not your call. I already chose you.”

Y/N blinked. Her heart thudded in her chest.

And before he could say another word — before he could turn away or take one more step back — she crossed the space between them and kissed him.

Not out of victory.

Not to silence him.

But because her chest was full of too much. Regret. Relief. Love.

His hand immediately found the side of her neck, steady, anchoring her like always. He kissed her back with that quiet strength only he had — like he’d been waiting for her to finally just let go.

When they parted, he kept his forehead against hers.

“I wasn’t going to walk away,” he whispered. “But you were letting me think I should.”

“I know,” she said, voice cracking. “That’s why I kissed you.”

Carlos exhaled softly, pressing another kiss to her lips — slower this time.

“You’re not perfect,” he said. “But you’re worth fighting with. And for.”

Franco Colapinto

“When you love someone

You open up your heart…”

The hotel room was scattered with little things — his hoodie on the chair, your charger tangled near the bed, his race schedule on the desk. Comfortable chaos. Normally, it felt like home.

Tonight, it felt… off.

Y/N stood near the open balcony door, arms crossed, eyes heavy with frustration. Franco was sitting on the bed, fidgeting with a ring on his finger, brows slightly furrowed but trying not to seem defensive.

“You can’t just joke your way out of everything, Franco,” she said, her voice low but tight. “Every time I try to talk about how I feel, you turn it into something light. Funny. You smile like it’s all fine.”

“I’m not trying to make fun of you,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “I just— I don’t always know how to respond. I’m not good with serious talks, you know that.”

She let out a shaky breath. “That’s not good enough anymore.”

Franco stood up slowly, the humor gone now. He stepped forward but left just enough space between them that it ached.

“I know I joke a lot,” he said, quieter this time. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel things. I just… I feel things too much. So I protect it. With laughs. With stupid nicknames. With pretending I don’t get scared of losing you.”

Y/N blinked, a little stunned at the honesty.

His voice dropped more, raw and honest in a way he rarely was. “Do you think I don’t notice when you get quiet? When you stop texting me back as fast? When you pull away a little, like you’re testing if I’ll follow?”

She looked down, heart pounding. “I’m not testing you.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But I still chase you.”

Silence fell again — that kind of silence where the truth hangs between two people, waiting to be caught.

So she did the only thing that felt right in the moment.

She kissed him.

Quick. Breathless. Frustrated. But full of love.

Like she needed to shut him up — and also pull him closer.

Franco froze for a second — then smiled into the kiss, softly at first, like “Finally.”

He kissed her back with that familiar tenderness, like her lips were the only place he ever wanted to land. When they pulled back, foreheads pressed together, his thumb traced the edge of her jaw.

“Didn’t expect that,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“I didn’t want to argue anymore,” she whispered. “I just wanted you to know you’re worth being serious for.”

Franco smiled, this time real. “And I’m still gonna annoy you in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes with a small laugh. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

He kissed her again — slower this time. Sweeter.

“You always win when you kiss me like that,” he said against her lips.

“I know,” she smirked. “That’s why I did it.”

Paul Aron

“I can't help but love you

Even though I try not to…”

The lights in the living room were low, and the quiet buzz of the street outside was the only thing keeping the room from collapsing into complete silence.

Y/N stood in front of the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, while Paul leaned against the back of the couch, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the floor like it had the answers he couldn’t find.

“You didn’t have to say that, Paul,” she said finally, voice low, like she was afraid of her own volume.

He didn’t look up. “I know.”

“Then why did you?”

His mouth opened slightly, then shut again. A muscle in his jaw flicked, that signature restraint clashing against the rising emotion in his chest. He wasn’t good at this — not when it came to her. Especially not when it was about hurting her.

“You always walk away when I try to talk about how I feel,” she said, louder this time. “So yeah, maybe I pushed. But you didn’t have to throw that in my face.”

Paul’s eyes lifted. Finally. And they were burning. Quietly, but clearly.

“I said it because I didn’t want you to see how much it actually got to me,” he said. “I thought if I made it into something sharp, something you’d back away from, I wouldn’t have to admit it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Admit what?”

“That I hate it,” he said, more forcefully now. “I hate how easily you think I’ll leave. Like I haven’t proved to you a thousand times that I won’t.”

She stared at him, the fight in her stomach flipping into something else entirely — guilt, love, need.

Paul took a step forward, hands still shoved in his hoodie pocket like he didn’t trust them. “Do you even know how much I care about you? Or are you still waiting for me to screw it up so you can say, ‘I knew it.’”

Tears stung at her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words tangled somewhere behind her ribs.

So she did what she hadn’t planned — what she hadn’t even fully thought through.

She kissed him.

Hard. Fast. No warning.

Like the apology wouldn’t come out of her mouth but it might live in her touch.

Paul froze for a second — just a second — and then kissed her back like he’d been holding back an entire storm.

His hand moved to her jaw, the other to her waist, like he needed to hold her in place before she disappeared again. When they finally pulled apart, her chest was heaving.

He looked at her, brows drawn, voice rough. “What was that?”

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” she whispered. “And I needed to remind you that I do know how much you care.”

Paul stared at her for a long moment, something soft flickering behind his eyes.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he murmured. “And I hate that I said it just to hurt you.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Then stop shutting down when you’re scared. Let me see you. Even when it’s messy.”

His forehead pressed to hers, breaths syncing as the world outside their window kept moving.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “So stop kissing me like I might.”

She smiled, a little tearful. “That’s the only way I know how.”

Lando Norris

“I think I’m gonna lose my mind ...

Something deep inside me I can’t give up…”

“You always make a joke when I’m trying to be serious.”

Y/N’s voice was louder than usual — not yelling, but tight, strained. She stood in the middle of the hallway, arms folded, heart beating far too fast for how calm he looked.

Lando was leaning against the wall near the bedroom door, one hand running through his curls, the other crossed over his chest like a shield.

“Because everything isn’t that serious,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. “You always want to turn stuff into these big dramatic talks.”

She blinked, like she hadn’t quite heard him right.

“This isn’t a drama, Lando. It’s me saying I don’t feel seen. That I miss you. That I don’t want to be the girl standing in your apartment wondering if you’d even notice if I left.”

His expression shifted — slightly. But he was still hiding behind that smirk, that tilt of his head that made everything feel like it wasn’t really real.

He opened his mouth to say something else — probably another sarcastic deflection — but she cut him off.

“You know what?” Y/N said, stepping forward, hands clenched. “I can’t keep trying to get through to you while you stand there acting like it’s all nothing.”

And then she kissed him.

Hard. Fast. With so much emotion it practically knocked the air out of both of them.

Lando’s body tensed at first — stunned — but then his hands flew to her waist, dragging her closer. His lips caught up with hers like he’d been dying for this. For her. For anything real.

He kissed her back like the words he didn’t know how to say. Like he needed to prove with his mouth what he couldn’t with his tone.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and a little dazed, his forehead leaned against hers.

“I don’t mean to shut you out,” he murmured, voice cracked open. “I just… I don’t always know what to do when things feel heavy. I joke because it’s easier than saying ‘I’m scared of messing this up.’”

Y/N closed her eyes, forehead still pressed to his.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Lando,” she whispered. “I just need you to meet me there when I’m trying.”

His thumb brushed her cheek, no teasing in sight now. “You kissed me like I was about to lose you.”

She nodded. “Because I felt like I was.”

He exhaled, eyes finally locking with hers — really seeing her now.

“Then I’m glad you did.”

Oscar Piastri

“All I know is we said hello ...

And your eyes look like coming home…”

The apartment was still — that kind of stillness that pressed into your skin, filled every breath. The kind where something’s off, even if no one’s raised their voice.

Oscar stood in the kitchen, sleeves pushed to his forearms, his jaw clenched slightly as he leaned against the counter. Y/N stood across from him, arms crossed, frustration bubbling under her quiet tone.

“I just wish you'd react to something,” she said softly. “Anything.”

Oscar blinked slowly. “I’m reacting.”

“No,” she snapped. “You’re thinking. You’re analyzing. But you're not reacting. You're not saying anything that actually tells me how you feel.”

He tilted his head. “Because I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

Y/N let out a soft, humorless laugh. “At least that would mean you felt something. You always play it so calm, so unbothered—like nothing ever touches you.”

He looked at her then. Really looked.

“Do you think I don’t feel things just because I don’t shout them?”

“I don’t know, Oscar,” she said, shoulders falling slightly. “Sometimes it’s like I’m breaking right in front of you and you just… stand there.”

He exhaled through his nose, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before he pushed off the counter and took a step closer.

“You think I don’t notice when you’re breaking?” he said, voice low but clear. “I notice everything. I just don’t always know if you want me to catch you or let you fall.”

Her heart cracked at that — not in pain, but in sudden understanding.

She crossed the space between them, fast — and before she could overthink it, she kissed him.

Slowly. Purposefully. Like a truth her words had failed to speak.

Oscar’s hands found her waist immediately, not pulling her closer — holding her there, like he was afraid she’d pull away before he could finish saying everything he didn’t know how to say.

When they broke apart, he kept his forehead against hers.

“You think I don’t care?” he whispered. “Y/N… you’re the only thing that gets through the noise in my head.”

She smiled faintly, lips still brushing his. “Then next time, just tell me.”

“I will,” he promised. “Next time, I won’t just stand there.”

And with that, he kissed her again — firmer this time, like he’d just remembered how much he could feel.

Arthur Leclerc

“Kiss me the way that you would..

If we died tonight…”

“You always turn it around on yourself,” she snapped, pacing in front of the couch, hands flying with emotion.

Arthur sat there, back pressed into the cushions, hands clasped together as he watched her with those storm-grey eyes — quiet, but intense. “Because maybe it is about me,” he said, more quietly. “Maybe I really am the problem.”

Y/N froze mid-step. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m not trying to be dramatic,” he said, voice steady but hurt bleeding through. “You said you feel like you’re always the one making the effort. That I don’t show up the way you need me to. And I’m trying to hear that, Y/N, but it just makes me think…” His jaw clenched. “Maybe you deserve someone who doesn’t need to be told how to love you properly.”

The words hit her like a punch. Not because he was yelling. Not because he was angry. But because he meant it. Because he was sitting there — honest, stripped down, looking at her like she was already halfway out the door.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “You’re not the problem, Arthur.”

He looked up, finally, and it shattered her.

“You never were,” she added, stepping closer. “I was scared, and tired, and I took it out on you because you’re the safest place I have.”

His eyes didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He just… waited.

So she kissed him.

Slow, desperate, full of apology. Like she needed him to feel every unsaid thing — I love you, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.

His hands came up slowly, almost uncertain — one cradling the back of her neck, the other settling over her lower back like he needed her to stay there. With him. Still.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against his.

“I don’t need someone perfect,” she whispered. “I need you. The one who listens. The one who notices. The one who always asks me if I’m okay even when I’m lying through my teeth.”

Arthur finally let out a breath — the kind he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“You scared me,” he murmured. “You said those things like you were already halfway gone.”

“I’m not,” she promised. “I kissed you because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you over a moment I didn’t mean.”

He kissed her again, slower this time — longer — like the tension had finally melted into something softer. Something safe.

And then, pulling her into his lap, he murmured, “Next time, yell at me less. Kiss me sooner.”

She laughed into his neck. “Deal.”

Hi guys.. hope you like my this post too..

I have part 2 in my mind too.. but than it would be a bit lengthy.. so comment for 2.

[holdmytesseract]

love isn't random, we are chosen

Daryl Dixon x nun!Reader

Summary: When Daryl Dixon enters your life, you experience a feeling you hadn't felt since dedicating your life to God: love. Unfortunately, it is not everybody at the Nest happy with your connection to the American - and suddenly your love is turned into a weapon...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff, possible spin-off spoilers, violence, injuries, mentions of torture, blood, swear words, talks about God, faith, the oath, etc, fluff, small steamy moment(s)? lots of dialogue?

Set in Season 2 of the spin-off!

Word Count: 6,8k

a/n: I love spin-off Daryl with all my heart. There are way too less fics out there for him, so I have to change that. A huge thanks and shout-out goes to @fictive-sl0th ! She's my French translator. Without her, this fic would be so much more difficult to write. Thank you so much, my lovely friend.

Also, I wanna add that I'm no nun, so I don't have real knowledge about this. Please go easy on me. I wrote what felt, uh, right. ☺️

Disclaimer: There are two sentences that Daryl says, which aren't mine. It's just there to fit the plot.

The title is a line from this song - which inspired me a lot...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

But then Isabelle brought this hurt man, and suddenly throwing over your whole life. One moment, everything was normal, and the next you stood in the blood of your fellow nuns. He had thrown everything off balance... Your life, your faith, your worldview - and your feelings as well.

You didn't hear a single word Losang said. After the first sentence, you found yourself spacing out. And quite frankly, you didn't care - as hard as it sounded. Your mind was way too occupied with other things. Well... One thing. No, not a thing, to be precise... One man. Daryl Dixon - a brave, strong lone wolf who had so suddenly crashed into your life. Into all of your lives.

Life at the abbey had been almost picture perfect. The safety it had provided. Fields with crops and vegetables to eat. Occasionally, some of the dead ones found their way to your doors, yes, but beside that it was peaceful. Quiet. With the hope living through Laurent.

Infatuation... Something you had lastly felt in your teenage years before you had decided to dedicate your life to God and the church - and yet you instantly recognized the feeling. The butterflies in your stomach. The way your heart sped up whenever you had looked at the man. It was unmistakable. You knew you shouldn't. You knew it was most likely foolish to fall for a stranger you had known for only a few weeks or months, but you also knew that you were powerless. You couldn't control your heart. You couldn't control if and with whom it fell in love. Love is something that just happens.

You sighed. It was too late now anyways. Daryl was gone; on his way back home to America. You were never going to see him again - and the realization of that made your heart ache.

The loud, heart shattering gasp of Sylvie sitting beside you was the thing that brought your mind back from wandering off. Your head instantly turned to look at her; finding an overwhelming sadness and worry displayed on her face. "Quoi? C'est quoi? Que s'est-il passé? (What? What is it? What happened?)" You asked; instinctively reaching for the younger woman's hands. Isabelle had her hand on Sylvie's shoulder; giving you a questioning look. "Emile..." Sylvie started, her voice quivering. "Ils l'ont eu... (They got Emile...)"

"Patience won't work. If Genet can't get anythin' from them, she'll just kill 'em."

Your heart clenched for the young woman. You knew that she loved Emile. In fact, it was the first time she experienced love. To see her like this broke your heart, 'cause you knew how it felt. You felt the same.

Words of comfort were already on the tip of your tongue, but before you were able to speak them, another voice cut through the air.

You knew that voice. In a crowd of hundreds of people, you'd recognize that voice. His voice. Quickly turning in your chair, your gaze fell on the door. On him - and your heart almost stopped; eyes widening. "Daryl..." You panted; breath catching in your throat. He was back. He did not leave. He was here.

Before you were able to react and stop it, your feelings had taken over the control of your body. You couldn't think clearly anymore. All you saw was him. "Daryl!" You called out again - this time a little louder, as you sprung up to your feet; legs working on their own will to carry you over to the man at a fast pace. "Daryl..." You repeated his name again and threw your hands around his neck to hug the archer. The man grunted in return; didn't see this coming. He was hesitant at first, but then he hugged you back.

Gasps erupted throughout the crowd; followed by whispers and shocked faces. What were you doing? What had gotten into you?

The huge crowded room had become quiet around you. Everybody was watching the scenes unfold in front of their eyes, until-

You pulled back from the hug; the rational part of your brain still out like a light. Without thinking, you pressed your lips on his; kissing the man.

Daryl had gone rigid beneath your touch as well; all his muscles tensing at the sudden contact. He hadn't seen that coming either. Not even in the slightest. He was way too caught off-guard to respond to the kiss in any way, so he just stood there. But when you pulled back - your soft, warm lips leaving his, he found himself missing your touch; wanting to feel your kiss again.

And suddenly everything crashed down on you. Your breath got labored; chest constricting. You needed to get out of here. So, you did. Brushing past a still overwhelmed Daryl, you stormed out of the room and kept running. Running until you stood behind the wall of the highest tower in the nest, gazing down at the beauty that was the Mont-Saint-Michel – your new home, and all across the French mudflat. It was low tide, but the beauty of the nature around you nevertheless never failed to amaze you. The wind rustled through your hair. You took a deep breath; tasting the saltiness of the water. Tears pricked your eyes.

As soon as the kiss was over and you felt Daryl not reciprocating it, the rose-colored glasses slipping off. Realization dawned on you. And when you spun around to look at your friends and the other people, you found everyone staring at you; shocked, surprised, disappointed. Everyone, except Isabelle and Sylvie, who had a small smile on their faces.

You swallowed hard; eyes flickering over to Losang - your leader. Your mentor. The man had crossed his hands behind his back. A hard look on his face. He wasn't amused - just like the other people.

What have you done?

A moment of silence passed.

You hid away in your room for the rest of the day; not wanting to see anybody. Not even your friends.

With your arms hugging your legs to your chest, you sat on your bed and let your thoughts roam; staring at the window. It was pitch black outside. The night had settled over France a long time ago, but a sudden knock ripped you out of your trance like state. You slowly turned your head towards the door; sighing. "Pars, Isa. Je t'ai déjà dit que je voulais être seul. (Go away, Isa. I told you I want to be alone)."

You knew of course what he wanted to talk about. It was rather obvious. You just kissed him after all merely a few hours hours ago. Nevertheless, you tried to avoid the embarrassing, most likely humiliating conversation.

"Y/N...," a deep, definitely not female voice spoke your name. Your eyes widened. It wasn't Isa - obviously. It was... "'S me. Daryl. Can we talk?" You swallowed hard. "Please," the man added in a quieter voice, which managed to send a shiver down your spine. You inhaled deeply; heart yearning again for the man behind the wooden door.

Slowly, you untangled your own limbs to stood up. "Y/N?" He said again; a soft knock following. Barefoot, you tiptoed across the stony ground to hesitatingly open the door - just enough to peek through the gap. "What do you want?" Daryl's gorgeous blue eyes met yours. "Talk." "About what?"

Daryl just gazed at your face for a long moment; chewing on the inside of his lip, while nervously picking at his fingers. "Let me in, please. Dun wanna discuss tha' out on the floor," he looked around. "With prying eyes." You frowned and swallowed hard once again, "Fine." and gave in; letting him step inside your small but cozy room. Closing the door behind the archer, you crossed your arms over your chest. Daryl looked around; noticing the small collection of books in the corner. The bible on your soft looking blanket. Some of your clothes on the chair beside your bed. The burning candles on your old wooden desk, which created a warm and admittedly romantic atmosphere.

"'S a nice room ya got. Way better than mine," he started; clearly trying to cover up his nervosity and keep his cool. "Thanks," you whispered; suddenly highly aware of the tension in the room. Something Daryl must have felt too.

He did.

The archer swallowed and ducked his head to avoid your eyes for a moment, before starting to speak again. "Earlier today when, uh, when ya... When ya-" You knew what he tried to say. So you were quick to interrupt him; unsure if you would survive his words of rejection now. "It was foolish of me, Daryl. I'm sorry. This shouldn't have happened." You shook your head. "I should've controlled myself better... Should've not let my feelings get the better of me. I wasn't supposed to give in. To let my heart speak. I'm sorry," you rambled; quite a bit unaware that you just declared your love to him.

The man standing across you blinked. His expression was unreadable - for you. He had learned to mask his emotions well. But internally he was on the verge of falling to his knees. "F-Feelings fer me?" He croaked out; not quite trusting his ears. Could this be true? Could you - someone so pure, delicate and angelic love a broken and tainted mess like he was? It was difficult to grasp.

Daryl was positively rendered speechless. His brain needed several seconds to catch up with your words.

Your heart almost jumped off the cliff as he repeated your words. Your eyes widened at the realization; cheeks turning crimson red.

"Y-Yes?" You didn't mean to make it sound like a question, but well... "W-Why, uh, why would I break the oath and a-all the promises I made and kiss you without love? J-Just because I could? Because it's easy?" "Nah, 'course, I... Fuck, I didn't mean it like tha'. I jus'... It's hard to believe that you... love me." You frowned. "Is it? Why? Just because you're different? Because you were made for this world? Broken until it ended? Because you don't see yourself the way I see you?" Once more you shook your head. "I am not supposed to love you and yet I can't help but believe that there is a reason God led me down this path. Granted me to experience those feelings. I felt it from the first time I laid my eyes upon you. There was a spark. Something... magical. There's gotta be a reason he led you to me." You locked your eyes with his. "Perhaps this was always meant to be."

"Wha'?" He asked; almost breathless. "Yer really wanna put me above yer faith? Above God?"

You shook your head, "Not above my faith." and smiled softly. "Above the promise I made. Above my oath."

"I always thought fallin' in love was impossible for me. I didn't believe in love - 'n then I got stranded 'ere so far from home, findin' ya..." You smiled and cupped his cheeks to gently guide his head; making his forehead rest against your forehead. "I told you, there's a reason you survived and washed up at that shore. Love isn't random, Daryl. God chose us to be connected by love," you whispered; hands dropping to his broad shoulders, gliding down his chest and ultimately landing on his belly to wrap around those suspenders he wore - which made him even more attractive.

Daryl exhaled a shaky breath; heart starting to beat faster. You meant it. You truly put him - your love for him - above the promise you made.

This time he was the one who lost control and acted on his feelings. With two big strides Daryl had bridged the distance between the both of you. Before you could react or even say another word, he had you already pushed backwards with your back pressed against the wooden door; successfully caging you between his broad frame and the door. One arm was pressed against the wooden surface a few inches beside your hand, while the archer's free hand cupped your waist; securing you in place. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was so close. You could feel his irregular breath on your skin and the warmth radiating off his body.

Panic flooded your system - something Daryl instantly detected. He saw it in your eyes. "Wha'? Wha' did he say?" He whispered as quiet as somehow possible. "He wants to talk. Now." You frantically looked around, while Daryl muttered an almost inaudible 'Fuck'. "Oui. Donne-moi juste un moment pour m'habiller. (Yes. Just give me a moment to get decent.)." "Bien sûr, sœur Y/N. (Of course, sister Y/N)." You tapped Daryl on the chest to make him walk. "Into the closet, quick. You have to hide." He nodded wordlessly and somehow managed to fit his bulky frame inside the old wooden closet. "Be quiet." "I know. I ain't stupid." You gave him a last look of worry, before you closed the closet, but left the doors ajar. Just enough for him to get air. Then you slipped hastily inside your dressing gown and took a deep breath.

His hand on your waist twitched as Daryl tilted his head. The archer's nose brushed yours before he caught your lips with his in a deep, intimate kiss. Instinctively, your hands tugged at the suspenders to pull him closer - to which his body instantly responded, before your palms went to cup his cheeks again; feeling his beard scratching your skin. You ended the kiss only to get some air back in your lungs. But within seconds was your mouth locked to Daryl's again. Slightly changing the angle, you even deepened the kiss; letting him feel all the love you held within your heart for him.

You would've loved to continue kissing him, feeling him - but a firm knock against the door (to which Daryl still had you pinned) caused the both of you scramble apart. "Y/N? Pardonne-moi de te déranger. Tu es encore réveillée? (Apologies for the disturbance. Are you still awake?)" Your eyes widened at the voice. Losang. You pressed a hand to Daryl's chest; urging him on to take a few steps back with your finger on his lips to signal him to be quiet. "Um, yes, I am still awake. On my way to bed, though." "I see." There was a pause. "Est-ce qu'on peut parler? S'il te plaît? C'est urgent. (Can we talk? Please. It's urgent.)"

"Tu peux entrer. (You may come in.)" The door opened only a few seconds later to reveal the leader of the union de l'espoir. The man held a small smile as he was facing you. "Donc, je m'excuse encore pour le dérangement. (I apologize again for the disturbance.)" You gave him a nod and a polite smile in return. "How can I help you?" You asked then. Losang crossed his hands behind his back. "I wanted to discuss the... incident that happened this morning."

Oh no...

You blushed immediately, "O-Oh, you, uh, you mean my-" and cleared your throat. "My encounter with monsieur Dixon?" He nodded. "Oui. I just wanted to make sure that this truly was just an accident. A misunderstanding. You won't break your oath and question your love for God. Not for a man like Dixon." You swallowed hard; already hating what you were about to do. Lying was a sin - but you had no other choice. Losang left you no other way out. He made that clear. "No, no, of course not. It was an accident. Like you said. I don't know what has gotten into me. So much happened in the past few weeks, I just... lost control for a moment. It won't happen again." The man opposite you nodded; visibly pleased with your answer. "I hope you understand that I can't and won't tolerate a liaison with this man. He's a lost soul, and I'm afraid he can't be saved. He doesn't believe and has no guidance."

The archer reached for your hand to cup your smaller one in his bigger one. "Yeah, I know..." You stepped closer to the man again and placed a hand on his shoulder; toying with the lapels of the black shirt he wore. "We have to be careful. You heard it yourself." Daryl nodded and squeezed your hand. "Had a feelin' tha' he ain't fond 'a me." "I'm afraid we have to keep this a secret. Us. I think there's no other way. Even if we don't like it." He gazed into your eyes and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. "Yeah. Think we do. I ain't losin' ya again jus' 'cause 'a him. So I'd rather keep this a secret." You nodded; caressing his cheek with your thumb. "It's better that way..."

You just nodded; not saying a word. Sometimes it was best to keep quiet.

He gave you yet another smile then. "I knew that I could count on your loyalty and faith, sister Y/N." "Of course, Losang." He nodded, "I leave you to rest then. Good night." and turned to open the door. "Thank you. Good night." As soon as Losang had left your room, a relieved breath left your lips. You waited for another few moments - to make sure he was really gone, before you opened your closet again. "An accident, huh?" Daryl said teasingly as he left his uncomfortable hiding place. You shook your head with a smile. "Hush. You know I had to say it. I didn't mean it."

Daryl couldn't stop himself from dipping his head and catch your lips with his in another tender kiss. "I hope ya know what ya gettin' yerself into... I dun think 'm an easy man to love." A small smile darted over your face. "Yeah? Well, you are aware that you fell in love with a nun, right? I'd say I am the one who is harder to love." The archer scoffed and shook his head. "You dun know 'bout the things I've done." You smiled once more and took a step closer; invading his space even further. "Daryl... I don't care about your past. We all did things to survive. I only care about the here and now - and the future, 'cause... I hope to be your future."

"Laurent is what?!" You literally squeaked out; causing Daryl to grip your wrist and pull you into a small side room. The Mont-Saint-Michel had quite a lot of those... "Gone. Kidnapped. They got 'im, but 'm gonna help gettin' him back. We got a hint where they could hide. 'M leavin' in the next hour. Emile 'n Falou join me." You nodded - relieved that they had instantly worked on a plan to get the kid back, but then you frowned. "Wha'? Wha' is it? Ya worried?" Once again you nodded. "'Bout me?" "A little...," you nervously picked at your nails. "I know that you are perfectly capable of looking after yourself. I am way more worried about Emile..." That got the archer frowning. "Emile? Why him?" You shook your head. "I don't know, he... He's so different after the kidnapping. Sure, I know this was bad and such things do something to you, but..." You took a deep breath. "I got a bad feeling about him. About this. Can't explain it." The archer shook his head and cupped your hips in his big hands. "I got this. Dun worry. But thanks for tellin' me yer concern. Gonna keep it in mind."

Your plan worked perfectly fine. You and Daryl truly managed to keep your romantic liaison a secret. No public affection - something the archer was not very fond of anyway, which played into your hands. Only behind closed (and mostly even locked) doors. Sure, you exchanged subtle looks and small smiles, but nothing beside that. If you had to talk, you talked like acquaintances would do. The only people who knew about you and Daryl were Sylvie and Isabelle. They were your closest friends, after all. You trusted them with your life. Unlike Losang, they didn't have a problem with it. Quite the opposite... They even supported you (and Daryl).

It was almost to good to be true - until it wasn't...

You sighed and slung your arms around his neck to hug him. "You could join me, ya know..." You huffed out a small laugh and shook your head. "No, better not. We both know I'm not a good fighter. I'd only make things more difficult and complicated for you, and I don't want that." Daryl grunted. "Gotta change tha'. 'M gonna teach ya how to fight. Properly. 'S important. Gotta know I can leave my woman alone for a few hours without her getting herself killed." You scoffed but knew that he was actually right. "Yeah, we should do that."

"Je t'aime. (I love you.) I'll be waiting." Daryl smiled. By now he knew the meaning of those words. "I love ya, too." "Stay safe," you whispered and squeezed his hand before you let go of him again. "You, too, ya hear me?" You nodded with a small smile. "I'm safe here."

A few beats of silence passed, in which you just embraced each other; enjoying your partner's proximity.

"Ya gonna be there when we leave?" You took a deep breath at Daryl's question and sighed once more. "No. Better not. I got a feeling that Jacinta will be there, too and... I got a feeling that she's got her eyes on me. I'm afraid she's already a bit suspicious of us..." Daryl nodded. "Damnit, a'right... We gotta be careful then." You retreated from the hug to look deeply into his gorgeous blue eyes and nodded. Then you cupped his cheeks and gently pulled his head down for a kiss - which the archer gladly reciprocated. The kiss was deep, intense and full of love. Who knew when you'd see each other again? How long this rescue mission was going to take...

The moment you heard Daryl's name fall from Losang's lips, sleep was forgotten. This conversation had captured your full attention. Slowly, you sneaked up closer; looking through the gap of the wooden ajar door. Usually, you weren't one to pry at other people, but this... You couldn't let that slip. They were talking about the man you loved, after all.

You walked down the stony hallway on your way to your room when you heard voices coming from what sounded like the meeting hall. You could've sworn it sounded like Losang and Jacinta... But it was already late and all you wanted was to sleep, so you decided to just ignore it. Until you heard a sentence which caught your attention.

"Ça devrait être déjà réglé. (It should be done by now)," said Jacinta. 'Done by now?' You frowned. What should be done by now? Rescuing Laurent? "Bien. Espérons que tout se soit passé comme prévu. Dixon n'est pas idiot. Il est dur à coincer. (Good. Let's hope everything goes according to plan. Dixon isn't stupid. He's hard to get)".

"Ne t'en fais pas. Il ne l'a pas vu venir. Il ferait n'importe quoi pour le gamin. Dixon est futé, mais pas autant que nous. (Don't worry. He won't see this coming. He'd do everything for the boy. Dixon may be smart, but we're smarter.)" Losang smiled and gave his right-hand-woman a nod. "Il est temps de préparer la cérémonie. Dixon est mort, et rien ne viendra entraver la destinée du garçon. (We have to prepare the ceremony. Now that Dixon is dead and out of the way, nothing is going to hinder the boy to fulfill his destiny.)"

Your heart almost stopped at the man's words. It felt like it had just shattered into a million pieces. Dead. That's what he said. A cocktail of emotions flooded your veins. Shock, disbelief, pain... And anger. You felt so angry like you never did before in your life as a nun. They had tricked Daryl, most likely led him into a trap and... and... You weren't able to finish that thought. Your head started to spin, causing you to stumble back a few steps. Unfortunately, your feet hit an old bucket on the floor; left standing there for cleaning. Of course, you knocked it over. Not very quietly. It attracted the 'traitors' attention and let them hurry to the door.

"Sister Y/N..." Jacinta addressed you. "Que fais-tu ici? (What are you doing here?)" You had steadied yourself against the wall; breathing labored. You still couldn't grasp what was happening. The world just collapsed on you. "D-Dead? Daryl is... dead? You... You killed him. You betrayed him." You looked up to face them; anger glimmering in your eyes. "No... You betrayed everything we stand for. You betrayed God and your belief."

Jacinta was visibly insulted by your words and already wanted to fire back at you, but a hand on her forearm held her back. The leader of the union de l'espoir gave her a look, then faced you with a smile. "Tiens, tiens, chère sœur... (Now now, dear sister...) Such harsh words from your lips..." He shook his head. "We did what had to be done. For this unity. For all of us. For Laurent to fulfill the prophecy. We are going to live again, sister Y/N. But not with Dixon. He isn't one of us. He's nothing but a lost soul. All he did was trying to lead Laurent off his foretold path. We couldn't let that happen..."

You scoffed and huffed out an ironic laugh. "Off his foretold path," you quoted - mocked the man. "Oh, allez! C'est ridicule! (Oh, come on! That's ridiculous!) All Daryl did was look out for Laurent. Without him, he wouldn't even be here at the nest! We all owe Daryl for what he did!" Your voice was raised; shaking with hurt and anger. Hands clenched to fists. You hadn't experienced such feelings in a long time.

Jacinta crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at you. "That sounds like the boy isn't the only one who got led off their path by Dixon..." She spoke in a low threatening voice. "Est-ce qu'il t'a aussi jeté un sort, sœur Y/N? (Did he cast a spell on you as well, sister Y/N?)" You shook your head. "No. I did not once leave the path I'm bound to walk. And Daryl certainly did not cast a spell on me." You looked both, Jacinta and Losang dead in the eyes. The time of denial and hiding was over. You wouldn't just stand here and accept this. You were going to fight for Daryl - no matter if he was dead or alive.

"It was God who led Daryl into my life. It was God who intertwined our fates and let the love grow between us. We are destined to be together - and I won't let this go. Not without a fight. I'm going to save him - and Laurent." With those words and a literal death glare, you turned on your heels to walk away - but you didn't get far.

"No, sister Y/N. You won't," Losang spoke up once more; his voice as cold as ice. "If you truly believe that God would allow a nun to get romantically involved with such a tainted, dark soul, then you're lost as well. Attrapez-la! (Get her.)"

Everything was blurred; your vision unclear. It's been like that for days - or already weeks? You couldn't tell. You had lost any sense of time in that damn old shower room turned dungeon. Your wrist hurt from the metallic handcuffs, which cuffed you to that old, rusty pipe. A bruise had already formed on the skin and some dried blood was staining the dirty sweatshirt you wore, due to the metal piercing and tore your flesh. You had tried so hard to break free, but your hand was too big to slip past the unrewarding material. Your blurry eyesight wasn't helping as well... You didn't even know why your eyes acted out like this. All you knew was that your head hurt. And that you were out cold for an unknown amount of time. You lastly remembered being dragged away by Losang's men. Then there was a huge gap in your brain's memory, and the next time you opened your eyes, you were in that shower stall; cuffed and with a throbbing headache. So, all you were left with was frustration, anger and pain.

Before you even registered what was happening, were you captured by two of Losang's fighters. They gripped your arms harshly; holding you in place. You didn't even know where they came from so suddenly. "H-Hey, what- Let go of me!" You tried to break free, but you weren't exactly the strongest and definitely not a trained fighter. They easily dragged you back to Losang and Jacinta. "Tu dois comprendre, chère sœur, que tu vas faire partie de tout ça. Tu vas nous aider et ce sera vivante ou morte... à toi de décider. (You need to understand, dear sister, that you are going to be a part of this. You are going to help us. If dead or alive is your decision.)"

Sure, they had dragged you out of this cell multiple times to torture you; trying to get more information about the thorn in their side, which was Daryl Dixon.

Why would they even need that information? Was he still alive? Was it a means to an end? Or purely just to hurt you and get your 'faith back on track'?

You did not know. All you knew was, that you'd die before you'd tell Losang's men anything. You prayed every night; asking God to give you the needed strength to get through this. To fight for the man you loved - even though he was probably dead. For this you prayed, too. For Daryl to still be alive and out there somewhere.

Your prayers got answered - kind of.

"I highly recommend you to talk, Mr. Dixon," Losang addressed the archer, who was being held down on his knees by two fighters - even though it wasn't actually necessary. Daryl was swaying back and forth slightly, still a bit dazed from the blow to the head he took. Blood dripped from his lips and several cuts on his face were stinging in pain. The bruise around his eye already started to form as he looked up at the leader through heavy-lidded eyes; panting heavily.

All he wanted was to save you - and Laurent, of course. Together with the only trustworthy friends he had left. Isabelle and Falou. Luckily, he was able to rescue the boy, who was now safe with his aunt and friend. He had stayed behind to find you, but... His plan obviously did not work, and he got captured.

A blow into the pit of his stomach got the archer to keel over; a grunt of pain leaving his lips. Another punch followed suit. Before a third one could find its target, Losang intervened. "Arrênte (Stop it)," he commanded firmly. "Ça n'aidera pas. (That won't help.)" Jacinta, who stood silently in a corner and watched the scenes unfold in front of her eyes agreed. "Il a raison. Ça ne le fera pas. (He's right. It won't help.) He isn't going to talk. Not like that." The woman exchanged a knowing look with the leader. "Perhaps, we use the wrong... leverage."

"Were is the boy?" Losang's voice cut through the quiet, tense air; demanding to get the precious information from the man on his knees. Daryl shook his head; slowly regaining full consciousness. "Fuck you," he spat. "Ain't gonna tell ya a damn thing."

Many men (and women) before Losang had tried to get into his head. Tried to twist him and torture him into surrender. But Daryl never broke. He won't ever break. His spirit was too strong. His loyalty towards the people he loved was too strong. They could do everything they wanted to him, but he would not break.

Wrong leverage?, Daryl questioned himself as he slowly straightened his upper body again. What was that supposed to mean?

His heart dropped; shattered into a trillion pieces. They had captured you as well.

"Ramène-la ici. (Get her)," Losang barked at two other men, who immediately shuffled and moved to get out of the room. The archer didn't know what was happening, but something inside him told him that it wasn't good. He had a really bad feeling.

Once steps could be heard outside the room, Losang turned to face Daryl again; a smug, sinister smile on his lips. "Let's see if I am able to persuade you now," he leaned dangerously closer, whispering: "In fact, I'm sure I can. Eyes to the front, Dixon." One man who held Daryl harshly gripped his chin to lift his head; making him look. Making him look how the two other men who had left the room a few minutes prior returned and dragging you with them.

His eyes frantically ran over your clearly weak and injured frame. You had bruises on your face. A deep cut gashing on your cheek. Dried blood stained your sweatshirt. You appeared to be not even properly conscious; eyelids drooping. When the men let go of you, you couldn't even stand on your own two feet and just slumped to the ground.

Daryl was wide awake again. The adrenaline flooding his system kudos to the anger and hurt he felt letting him forget his very own pain and injuries. "Y/N!" He yelled in a broken voice, and quickly shot up on his feet to get to you.

He didn't make it.

Before he could even take a step forward, the men who were positioned beside him held him back. He tried to fight against their grasp... "Y/N! Y/N!" ... but it was no use. "Wha' have ya done to 'er! You sick fuck! You-" A knee into his gut knocked the air out of his lungs and forced the archer back onto his knees.

Losang had watched the man's outburst from the sidelines. Now that he was put back into his place, he dared to step closer again; towering over him. "Now, Daryl... Did you made up your mind? Are you going to tell us now where the boy is, or do we have to push sister Y/N's limits even more?"

Daryl panted heavily and slowly lifted his eyes to look at Losang; pure hatred and anger oozing from the blue irises. "Fuck. You," he growled lowly. "Ya ain't gonna break me. Or Y/N. We ain't gonna talk. Ya gotta kill us first - but ya can't, 'cause then you'd be left without anythin' as well. Yer gonna lose this battle."

Once the room got quiet and the men left; locking the literal jail door behind them, Daryl tried to shift and move in an unsuccessful attempt to get closer to you. "Y/N!" He called out your name repeatedly with a strained, hoarse voice, "Y/N! Can ya hear me?" but he never received an answer. You were most likely still out cold. Slumping back against the wall in defeat and worry, he let his tired eyes slip shut. This was all his fault. He got you in this situation. He was the reason you had to suffer - and he hated himself for this. For letting this happen.

Losang gritted his teeth in anger and frustration. The man was seething with rage - much to Daryl's delight and satisfaction. He sent the archer a death glare, before he literally stomped backwards. "Emmez-les tout de suite! Qu'ils disparaissent de ma vue! (Take them away! Get them out of my sight!)" He yelled at the men who held both you and him captured. They flinched at the outburst, but immediately got to work; dragging you and Daryl away.

Like you, Daryl landed in the former shower room as well. They cuffed him to the shower stall beside yours; a thick wall separating you.

The hours ticked by. It had gotten dark by now. Daryl was constantly slipping in and out of sleep; too on edge to let himself rest, but his body took what it needed now and then. He was already on the verge of sleeping in again, when he suddenly heard your voice. Soft and weak, but it was there. "Daryl?" You whispered - and the archer was instantly wide awake again. "Y/N!" He shifted and moved; ignoring his aching limbs. The handcuffs rattling against the hook which held them (and him) in place. "Y/N? Yer awake?" He heard soft rustling from the other side of the wall. "I-I am, I... What happened?"

Daryl shook his head; beyond relief to hear your voice. It was a good sign. "Dun matter. Wha' happened to you, sunshine? What did that prick do to ya? Are ya in pain?"

You inhaled deeply; closing your eyes for a moment. "I... Overheard a conversation between Lo- Losang and Jacinta. They were..." You swallowed hard. "They were talking about the rescue mission they sent you on. It was a trap, set-" "Set to kill me. Yeah, I know," he finished your sentence; helping you. "I-I couldn't let this just happen, so I confronted them and landed here..." Daryl sighed. "Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "Tha's all cause 'a me. 'S my fault."

You shook your head - unbeknownst to your partner. "It's not... It was the decision I made. I chose this." Daryl gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip and fumbled with his fingers; gaze directed at the dirty ground beneath him. A long moment of silence passed, which got you worried. "Daryl?" Your slightly frantic voice got the archer out of his trance. "'M here," he reassured you in a soft voice, before sighing.

"It was yer decision, yeah, but... I should've come lookin' for ya earlier. Should've saved you. Protected you. I-" A sudden, very loud 'thud' cut off the archer; the stony ground beneath you shaking slightly. "What... What was that?" Daryl perked his ears and focused his eyes on the cage door ahead. "I dunno... Was like an earthquake or sum'thin'." "An earthquake? Can that be?" "Dunno. But whatever it was... We gotta stay attentive."

It didn't take long before other noises joined the 'thud'. Voices, yelling, gunshots, snarling... "Sounds like we're getting attacked," you whispered. "Yeah...," Daryl just said rather absentmindedly. You didn't see that he was working already for minutes to get his wrist free from the handcuff. "We... We have to get out of here. Those bars won't protect us..." There was fear in your voice. Daryl could clearly tell. "I know, sunshine," he started; finally freeing his hand, and stood up. "And we will."

He appeared in your field of view with the most loving smile you had ever seen upon his lips. You could've cried out of sheer relief - and you did. "Daryl..." You halfway sobbed; all the emotions crashing down on you. It had been just so much. The fear of losing him. The uncertainty. The physical and mental torture. He quickly crouched down in front of you - once again ignoring the pain he felt, and tried to uncuff you. "I know, I know. 'S all gonna be a'right." Big, calloused and strong hands gently took your hand to pick the lock. He was so gentle and cautious; seeing the wounds you had contracted as you visibly tried to break free. His heart hurt at the sight.

"I gotcha. I gotcha now," Daryl whispered as the lock finally gave out and you literally collapsed into his arms; crying and shaking. Daryl kissed your palm and gently pulled you up with him to cradle your body close to his. "'M here. I gotcha," he reassured you once more and just held you for a long moment. Just letting you feel him and the love he held for you.

"'N I'm gonna get us outta here. I promise, but ya gotta help me, okay? Can ya do tha' for me?" You inhaled a shaky breath; having calmed down again. "Y-Yes. Yes." Daryl nodded and slowly let you down again, so that you were standing on both your feet. You were still a bit wobbly, so he kept steadying you.

Another moment later, he pulled back enough to look into your eyes. A tender smile adorned his face. He tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ears and cautiously wiped away the stray tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Tha's my woman." You gave him a faint, soft smile in return. The archer maintained eye contact, and dipped his head to bestow a gentle, yet so loving kiss upon your lips.

"Now c'mon. Let's get outta here, find Laurent and the others, 'n go back home."

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @negansbestie @dixonsstinkysock @loz-3 @bigbaldheadname @yas-yas-mimi @darylandbethfanforever9 @ffsjustletmesleep @huntedmusicgardenn @mayday2007 @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @imadisneyprincessiswear @cakesandtom

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters React to Kaladin from the End of WAT

[THIS POST CONTAINS MAJOR WAT SPOILERS!!]

As requested by @dutifullythoughtfulrebel :)

This post is so spoiler-y, I didn't want to even put anything in the title, ha ha. But if you're still reading, then you've either finished Wind and Truth or you have no care for spoilers. So! This is a post about how characters might react when they find out that Kaladin is a herald now.

1. Shallan and Adolin

Shallan (already tearing up): I-I said it, didn't I? Shallan: We promised we'd all have a drink together, in the end, and the universe heard us and made sure we all survived. Adolin (also tearing up): Y-You must have some damn cool stories, Kal. Adolin: What's it like...being a Herald? Kaladin: Well...I hung out with Shallan's mom a lot. Shallan: ... Adolin: ... Shallan: You WHAT

2. Szeth and Nightblood

Szeth: ...You might have said something before you left. Kaladin: It was all a bit...sudden. Szeth: I buried you. It was...difficult. Nightblood (helpfully): Emotionally difficult! Szeth: Also physically. Szeth: Since I was missing an arm. Nightblood: And because of all of the sadness! Kaladin: I'm...sorry I put you through all that. Kaladin: I did take your place as Herald, though, so that was cool of me...right? Szeth: ... Nightblood: He might need a minute!

3. Hesina

Hesina (holding Kaladin's face in her hands): If I had a clearchip for every time I learned that my son was dead only to have him show up later... Hesina: With new powers... Hesina: I'd have two clearchips. Hesina: Which isn't a lot, but... Kaladin: I missed you too, mom.

4. Lirin

Lirin: A Herald, huh? Lirin: Does that mean you don't have to fight anymore...or that you have to fight more? Kaladin: Well, it mostly means one thing... Lirin: What? Kaladin: [grins] Lirin: No! Kaladin: The Wisdom of the Heralds... Lirin: Don't you say it! Kaladin: Is now the Wisdom of Kaladin! Lirin: ... Lirin: ...I missed you too, son.

5. Bridge 4

[All inexplicably sitting in lawn chairs, wearing sunglasses, wearing T-shirts that say "Kaladin Return Party"] Lopen: Called it. Skar: You did NOT call that Kal became a Herald. Lopen: Called that he was still alive. Drehy: We ALL called that. Rock: Ha ha, yes. No matter how often people try to tell us he's dead, we? We know better. Lyn: Can't BELIEVE they told us he was buried. They think we're soooo gullible. Lopen: It's like? Psssh, you found a body? Who cares? He clearly got a new body or something. Hobber: Just another day in Bridge 4. Kaladin: ... Kaladin: You guys could be a LITTLE impressed.

6. Hoid

Kaladin: You know...when you said I wasn't going to come back... Kaladin: I thought you meant I was going to die. Kaladin: I can't believe you were predicting that I would become a Herald! Kaladin: How did you do that?? Hoid: >.> Hoid: <.< Hoid: Ah, well, you know, immortality...Hoid powers... Kaladin: WAIT YOU THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE?!

7. Moash

Moash: Well, well, well... Moash: Look at us, Kal. Both basically immortal. Soldiers. Enemies. Moash: Wanna see who's stronger? Kaladin: Don't you want to know what I was doing while I was away? Moash: Training, I'm sure. Doesn't matter! Kaladin: I was practicing therapy. For years. On the toughest cases on Roshar. Moash: W-Wait... Kaladin: Hey Moash, do you want to talk about your feelings? Moash: NOOOOOO

[dragonsorceress22]

So, we *talked* about a lot of things but I haven't had a chance to try any of them yet, but here's some of what we talked about:

INCUP method:

I - Interest (if the thing in question isn't generating any interest in you, you're not gonna wanna do it - in the context of a hobby the interest is kinda already there I guess, but could also look like cutting a scene you're not excited to write - if it doesn't interest you maybe find a way to make it so the story doesn't need that scene so that you can write something you find more fun)

N - Novelty (if you're doing the same thing over and over, your brain might be like "I've already sucked all the good I can extract from this; I want something new and shiny" so you need to change something up to get yourself going again - maybe location, maybe you get yourself a scented candle and a fun beverage or a good soundtrack to make the action feel fresher)

C - Challenge (finding the right level of "this isn't so difficult as to be off-putting but it's difficult enough to hold my attention" which for writing could be like breaking a project down into smaller tasks or pieces and just focusing on one of those to start so you don't get overwhelmed)

U - Urgency (thissss is the one I KNOW always motivates me super well, but I don't know how to generate it outside of an official fandom event that has deadlines and an external Watcher keeping me in line. but damn I wish I did. I need to find a way to create a sense of urgency in me without an outside influence. I have not figured out how to do this.)

P - Play (I feel like this sort of circles back to interest. Make it fun! If you're not having fun (since this is in the context of a hobby) change it up!)

We did also identify something interesting - after analyzing the times that I was super productive creatively, we found that it was when I was under serious stress and generally miserable. Writing was literally keeping me afloat. But now I'm in a much kinder job, and none of my immediate family are actively dying, and I no longer have that dire need fueling me. WHICH IS GREAT. but like... dammit. lol

So we talked about needing to find other ways to generate that fuel WITHOUT being in dire straights. Which is when we started talking about the INCUP method and other stuff but then our session was over so 🤷

my homework is to try some stuff and circle back next time and see what worked and what didn't and blah blah it's a process lol

ANYWAY this has been your overshare for the day🙃

"just write a little every day" ok but what if i write nothing for 3 weeks and then suddenly type like i’m being hunted by god

[yeoshii]

How confusing of a character Mike Wheeler would be if he isn't queer.

Ok so I've been thinking about for a while because I've been having BADD Byler doubt, and I've been arguing with myself mainly about this topic.

Mike Wheeler would genuinely be the funniest and most confusing character if he isn't queer cause its like? WHY would they write him this way...

The first thing I'll cover is Mikes reaction to authority figures in S1 + S2 VS S3

So we all know in S1 the police tell the kids including Mike to not go looking for will, to let them handle it. Obviously Mike doesn't listen and convinces the rest of the party to look for Will. Then in S2 we see him do this again with Joyce. He goes to Will's house when Will has not shown up to school. Joyce tells him to go, Mike does not take listen again and ends up with will.

Then later in S2 when El shows back up he gets mad at Hopper for hiding her (I believe he is so emotionally wound up because of his guilt of El disappearing, rather than any romantic feelings he might have had for her. Like I'm sorry if you're already that "in love" with someone you only knew for like a week, that you react like that THATS not healthy)

Anyways we see he gets very mad at Hopper, and gets physical. So this establishes when Mike cares I don't what any authority figure says to him matters. He's gonna follow what he thinks is right and also what his heart believes is right.

Which brings me to S3

We see many changes with Mike including him now suddenly listening to authority figures, and the authority figure in question is Hopper who he had no trouble fighting with in the season before? So he listens to Hopper now when this relationship (that we are kind of made to believe are very passionate about each other, very obsessed with each other in ways) is being threatened?

Now we have seen Mike disobey authority figures before, so it's very strange that now, in this perfect moment to show him disobeying Hoppers and going to El the next day anyways to show that he feels that strongly about her. They decide to not do that?

Instead we see him actually compromise one of his values that I don't think he has before this season, which is " Friends don't lie" and we obviously how much of a value this is both to Mike and especially El. Mike lies to El anyways, and obviously it doesn't turn out well. I just think it's interesting how in a time where Mike should've stood up to an authority figure like he has before he decides not to?

People have said this before and I agree, I think Mike was just taking Hoppers threat as an excuse to kind of have a break from this relationship, I think he was very confused, he did not know how to behave in this relationship without help from Lucas. Which is strange considering that I am pretty sure Dustin and Lucas both have their first girlfriends in season 3 but you don't see them this confused with their relationships? Which kinda goes into my next point.

Mike does not navigate this relationship with emotion rather with logic.

Now this is pretty apparent considering he had a conversation with Lucas basically stating this. Now before you think Lucas does the same, HE DOES NOT. In season 2 he tells max everything about what happened to the party in the last season, even though the logical thing would be NOT to tell her because he knows the party members might be mad about it. So even though he says this, it is obvious how he still acts on emotion with Max, whereas Mike.... I don't really see it.

We see him ask Lucas kind of a lot even though yes this is his first relationship, but same goes for Dustin and Lucas and its obvious that whenever Lumax fight Lucas still apologizes first because his EMOTIONS guide him to do that. Mike does not do that at all he only goes to try get a gift for an apology after Lucas tells him too. Like I'm sorry but in my experience in crushes and relationships there are some things you just do because of your emotions, but Mike does not seem to do any of that with El he has to be told. That does not seem very normal, especially when we are supposed to be seeing them as very obsessed teenagers in a sort of puppy love?

Those types of relationships are SO known for being more emotion based rather than logic??

You know what relationship he leads with emotions in.... (cough cough rain fight) Ok anyways my next point

Why make it so apparent from the beginning that El and Mikes relationship is not healthy if they are endgame?

So this one is kind of my main points in this whole thing, I want to start with talking about Mileven in S2. So the first thing I wanna talk about in S2 is the Snowball dance, now I think it was the Duffer brothers who said this but they do not consider the song that plays while El and Mike dance, a love song. In fact the lyrics parallel exactly what El was doing to Mike that season as-well.

So that's a very strange choice to me to add that song to a supposed romantic scene, which in turn makes it more creepy than romantic? Was that their intent? Then after S2 we obviously have whatever was going on with them in S3, we see this relationship actually bring out the worst in Mike. Then we are made to root for El to break up with him? HUH. Now obviously they show us that they're "making up" in the store and hospital scene, which its very debatable since I feel like they barely actually say anything. Maybe in the store scene but they are interrupted right before a big step in their relationship was gonna happen.

Then in the supposed big step in their relationship scene, I feel like you're kinda left confused. Mike doesn't pull back El for a hug or anything which is strange considering your girlfriend that's moving states away just told you she loves you back. Like really that's how they wanted Mike to act, didn't even crack a smile or anything. Very strange...

Then obviously S4, at this point they are both equally bringing out the worst in each other. Mike isn't being true to himself and neither is El. So it's very apparent that the more this relationship goes on the more problems it has? None of them get resolved in the end of S4 either !!! Which is very strange considering all the other couples seem to have previous problems resolved (exception might be Nancy and Jonathan but its very obvious they are going to talk about these things + its obvious there's still a ton of love between them) Every other couple had their heart to heart and it made them grow stronger except El and Mike, that's weird?

Plus we are almost made to root for El being on her AGAIN, at least that's what I was thinking while watching S4 cause god they just do not see eye to eye while in a relationship.

In conclusion a lot of the writing is gonna be so strange is Mike ends up not being queer, heck if Mike ends up not being confirmed queer and he ends up being alone the writing is still gonna be weird !!! The only outcome I see is he's gay. I'm sorry if this long I kind of just started ranting um anyways yeah... Let me know if you guys agree or I make like absolutely no sense in this I haven't really slept much and I just started writing this. Also I'm sorry if any of these points are ones that have been stated a million times I can't help myself :P

[shinysobi]

love's labour lost (lee jihoon)

in the end, all he does is run away.

☆ lovers to strangers: lee jihoon x composer! reader ☆ w.c: 2.5k (shortest yet!) ☆ genres: idol au, angst, dissolution of a relationship, jihoon is an asshole here i'm sorry (or am i) based entirely on all my love ☆ written for bella's event !! thank you so much for letting me write this haha i had a lot of fun! ☆tagging: @bella-feed (bc it was her event) @mylovesstuffs (because she's the one who listens to me yap) @gyubakeries (my comrade in this mess) and @hannieoftheyear bc she loves a toxic romance

All my love has amounted to, is this. 

Jihoon doesn’t know where exactly he went wrong. He did the things that were expected of him, he said the right things, he went to the right places, met and schmoozed with the right people, and yet, at the end of the day, he was there, and they were not. 

Jihoon knows who he is, really. He knows he’s not the most expressive guy; knows he is a bit slow on the uptake, knows he comes off as intimidating and standoffish most of the time. He’s not the easiest guy to get close to, unfortunately. 

Which leaves him here, looking at the phone screen in dismay, rereading the final two texts he’s sent them. Even now, looking back at the relationship, he wants to ask, what happened? Where did he go wrong, where did they go wrong? There is nothing apparent within the texts; they’re meaningless, accounts of a bad day that Jihoon had been having, updates on his meals, everything that was mundane and bleak and yet, they contained so much of his heart. 

In the end, the conversation had petered out easily, like the final burst of a firework, there were no explosive arguments, no throwing things, no tears, nothing at all. No spark in his life, nothing that told him about the steady dissolution of something that went on for perhaps too long. Jihoon doesn’t know how to live life without them, and yet, somehow he does, muscle memory pulling him through the motions of the day with an accuracy that scares him at first. He wakes up, brushes his teeth, goes to the studio to write, and ends up staring at the blank pages of his diary for far longer than necessary. He goes to practise, goes through the motions of being a dancer with a degree of precision that scares him at first, but now, now he’s used to it. 

The rest of Seventeen leave him alone, whispering amongst themselves about how Jihoon has been pulling away from the world even more. Have you talked to him? They ask, and Jihoon has to use force to get Seungcheol out of his studio, an action that Cheol protests by sitting in front of his studio doors for an hour until they have schedules together. He’s supposed to be working on song lyrics for their upcoming album, but all he can think of is the last time he met her. It had been a hasty meeting, held in one of the many boardrooms at HYBE, and he kept avoiding her gaze as she tried to explain the new concepts that management wanted them to try out for the album. She had kept trying to meet his gaze, and he had kept avoiding her, feeling the weight of at least thirty pairs of eyes on his every reaction as she stumbled through her words and her scratch tracks. He had shook his head, trying to control his reactions as much as he could. She was a phenomenal writer, no doubt, but no one took her seriously, not in PLEDIS and HYBE, at least. When he stood up to present his work, with similar themes to hers, they all murmured compliments and nodded with positive affirmations. Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon could see her shrink into her seat. She was never really someone who would speak up for herself, and Jihoon knew that. 

He doesn’t say anything, even when he knows he should. Instead, he sits back, and allows himself to take credit for her work, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. Her eyes follow him for the whole day, a mix of sadness and something else entirely. Jihoon knows what that is, he just does nothing to change that look in them. 

She looks like a wounded animal, he realises that night at three a.m, sipping on coffee as he works on tracks sent by her on a single USB. the files always have the same names, nothing of note, nothing of importance. Just the name of the song she’s sending it in for, and the date and version of the file. There have been times where she’s sent in files with nothing but the name, Song Draft#1, or something like All My love, draft #2. He likes the way she writes these, likes the way her filenames leave nothing for him to question. On the other hand, Jihoon sends the producers and songwriters drafts named (very creatively) Vernon is being a bitch, or as on one single, memorable occasion, how do I kill Seokmin and bury his body without anyone knowing? They had looked at him like he was crazy, but really, Jihoon doesn’t mind. He likes being known as the crazy one, the problem child of the company. Jihoon remembers the one time he went on lockdown in the studio to make a whole album from scratch in a week, and the rest of the company gave him a wide berth, because really, no one wants to fuck with Lee Jihoon, the insufferable genius of Pledis. 

Which makes entire sense as to why she left him, of course. 

Jihoon is not a stranger to how awfully their relationship began. Even by his standards, the way he asked her out was shitty. They had been sitting in his studio, drinking coffee and working yet another late night, when he had turned to look at her, and said a single word, “chicken?”

“Huh?” she had asked, looking up from her laptop, “right now?”

“No, I mean later,” Jihoon had clarified, looking slightly exasperated at how slowly this was moving along, “chicken. Fried chicken. Do you want to get some with me?”

“Uh, sure.” She had turned back to her work, and Jihoon had nodded, murmuring, it’s a date, then. 

That was how it had begun. Jihoon knew he should not have begun a relationship, or even dated anyone like that, attaching himself to the first person who caught his eye after recovering from a breakup. He knows he should not do it, but he does it anyway. Watches as she gets grilled by higher-ups during meetings, watches as he opens his mouth to say something, but keeps quiet instead. Even his bandmates, people who barely knew her, tried to speak up when they could, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Why did he do that?

At first, it was to maintain distance, to maintain the farce that while they were professional colleagues during work hours, he was not pressing her up against the couch in his studio afterwards. A way to let himself know that the Lee Jihoon of Seventeen was a different person to producer Lee Jihoon, who was a different person to just Lee Jihoon, the man who was using a woman for his benefit. 

It all grew hot and cold, after a while. She stopped expecting things from him, he hadn’t been doing anything for her in the first place. Even with his growing guilt, Jihoon couldn’t stop going back to her day after day, taking whatever she gave, and leaving without giving anything in return. He had it down to a science, almost. 

They were caught once. Well, he was the one who was caught, and it was Seungkwan of all people, who had run into him one late night. Seungkwan was there for practice, and Jihoon was there because he wanted to unwind fuck in peace. They ran into each other in the company elevator, and Seungkwan just stared at him for three seconds, before opening his mouth, “don’t do this, hyung.”

Jihoon stared at him, too. What the hell? “What do you mean,” He’d asked, but from the look on Seungkwan’s face, any explanation was unnecessary. 

“Don’t hurt someone just because you’re hurting too, hyung,” Seungkwan muttered, before getting out of the elevator, “She’s not someone you can hurt and leave when you want to. No one is.”

With that, he was gone, leaving behind Jihoon, still in the elevator, thinking. Hewas free to do whatever he wanted, Seungkwan and his fucking stupid moral policing be damned. And she was an adult. She knew what he wanted, she knew what they were getting into. There was nothing that Jihoon had not told her, so this line of thinking was irrelevant. 

—

Slowly, things start to change. Jihoon suspects Seungkwan’s involvement, but without any proper proof, he can’t even charge the man with anything. She becomes slightly more confident, slightly more outgoing. Earlier, when he called her after work, she came running, no matter how busy she was. Now, he found himself waiting for hours for a reply, and even then, it was all noncommittal, nothing more than yes, maybe, or sorry, no, I’m busy. He got the second text far more often than the first one. 

And then one day, Vernon came into the studio, visibly excited, and started talking about her, “did you know?” He said, “she’s composing the music for this new film.”

“She is?” Jihoon can’t even hide how much it rankles, the news that she’s moved on beyond him, that now she’s begun work as a film composer, “which movie?”

Vernon, who apparently got the news from her, says the name, “it’s going to be shown at Jeonju International Festival, and the lead actor came here today! They finished production on the film, and he came to congratulate her and take a look at her workspace and all.”

Ah, so that was why. Jihoon doesn’t say anything, gives a grunt and goes back to his work, a sign that Vernon interprets as get out. He leaves his studio an hour later to go to the cafeteria, and he sees her eating with another person. The actor; he thinks, and then turns around to leave before she catches his eye. If he saw her, she would come over to greet him, he knew her well enough for that. 

And, he’s never seen her laugh that way 

—

Unfortunately, somewhere between using her for his emotional benefit and discovering she had moved on without him knowing, Jihoon’s feelings had changed. He now looked for her in every meeting; her absence rankled in a place that was not quite familiar to him before. Hell, he even missed the way she ate her food, it was a trivial detail, but now he remembers the way she would carefully arrange everything on her plate and obsess over calories, insisting that she needed to have a certain amount to not keel over and faint. 

Then the conversation peters out entirely. Even when she was actively ignoring his texts outside of work, she would respond to his emails, send over USBs with the song files she was working on, sit in on meetings to workshop lyrics. Those stop too, and now he gets USBs through harried interns who don’t know who they are from, or gets his emails rerouted to another (usually higher) person in charge. Nothing non-professional, nothing he can fault her for. It’s annoying. It’s fucking annoying, how in the end of this twisted fucking mess, Jihoon is only one with mud on his skin. He’s still the terrible toddler, she’s the one whose reputation is pristine. Jihoon didn’t much care for his reputation either way, but if he was getting called an asshole, with rumors of him pursuing and abandoning an employee, he wishes she were affected too. It's selfish to be thinking about another person like this, but Jihoon does not care. He wants everyone to suffer along with him. 

It’s been about a month now. Within this time, he’s been the worst version of himself, locked Cheol out of the studio, ignored everyone’s calls and threatened to kill Seokmin on three separate occasions, but it’s been a month. A month since she stopped responding, a month since he’s had any sort of news from her. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he craves it anyway. 

He runs into Seungkwan on the way to the studio one morning, and the younger man takes one look at him and shakes his head. Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He walks into the studio and closes the door behind him. 

“She’s left.”

Jihoon turns. Seungkwan had walked into the studio, and was looking at him with a mix of pain and contempt, “she’s left PLEDIS. Left HYBE.”

“Wait, what?” It’s his turn to not believe his ears, “who did?”

“The girl you were actively trying to fuck over, hyung, she left,” Seungkwan sighs, “and one more thing, I think it’s a good thing she did.”

“What?”

“She’s now a fully-fledged film composer, hyung,” Seungkwan replies, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “she’s composing scores for two more upcoming films and one television drama. She no longer needs PLEDIS.”

The subtext is clear. 

Jihoon says nothing, just allows Seungkwan to leave. 

—

Three months later, her film premiered at Jeonju International Film Festival. Four of them go; make a show of it, as per Cheol’s orders. He wasn’t aware of what Jihoon did. If he knew, he wouldn’t have let Jihoon go. Anyway, the four of them go, in show of support for an ex-coworker. It’s too much, even for them, he thinks, who the hell organised this? 

He gets his answer before the show, when Vernon shakes her hand enthusiastically, grinning, “I knew you’d be a phenomenal film composer.”

She doesn’t even look at him. 

They take their seats, it’s refreshing to be in a crowd of cinephiles where no one cares about who the hell SEVENTEEN are. Jihoon settles down into his seat, and the starting credits roll. 

The score remains with him even after the film ends. Jihoon doesn’t care for movies, not like Vernon does anyway, so he focuses on the score; which is haunting, stretching like a yawning cat over the expanse of the film, occasionally baring its claws to let people know the genius of its composer. She had done well, and now he thinks the reason why everyone was so critical of her was because they were scared. Cheol claps enthusiastically, Seungkwan claps like he’s the person behind her success (with all his subterfuge, he might as well be) and Vernon even lets out a whoop to show her how much he’s enjoyed her work. Jihoon, out of all the four of them, doesn’t do anything, doesn’t clap, doesn’t smile. He can’t even think properly. So she left the company to do this. To be a film composer. Why did it matter? Why did it matter to him how she lived her life? He used her, she left him, in the end, it was his own actions that led him to be this way. She has always remained the pristine one, unbothered and unaffected of anything that happened in any space. In the end, Jihoon doesn’t even clap, because he’s afraid of tainting her. To be associated with me is the equivalent of throwing mud on yourself, he reasons, as they walk out of the theatre and into a waiting car, this is better. This way, she doesn’t have to remember me anymore. 

Now he knows what he feels, but it’s far too little, far too late. As always. In the end, the guy does not get the girl. In the end, Lee Jihoon remains where he has always been, waiting, a spectator in someone else’s curtain call. All his love has amounted to, is this. 

[endertheepicwolf]

It's Things Like These That Give Mutants a Bad Name

---

*Ender walks along some street in Musutafu, humming to herself. She liked walking at night, it was calm and quiet. The stars were glowing, the moon was bright, and the sky was a beautiful dark blue.*

*Hearing a shout, she watches as a guy stumbles out of a bar, clearly drunk. He had a gun in hand, running past her. She was going to ignore him, but he suddenly grabs her, holding the gun go her head.*

*Ender freezes as the man yells at the people watching.*

Everyone empty their pockets or this bitch dies! *He said in a shaky but serious voice.*

*The people, scared, start to reach for their pockets when someone speaks up.*

[#1?] Why the hell would I give you my shit to save some stupid-ass animal?

*Another says something too.* [#2?] Yeah, just pull the damn trigger already! I would pay you to see that!

*Ender blocks out the voices, feeling like garbage. She wasn't surprised at all by this whole interaction, she knows all too well that lots of people hate mutants.*

*But still, it hurts...*

Hey! Wake up, pup, I'm talkin' ta you!

*She looks up, before getting thrown down to the ground. She hits her head, crying out. The man clamps her mouth shut.*

Now now, we wouldn't want the police to come, would we? You'll just be arrested too!

*She grimaces, knowing it was true. She couldn't afford to be caught...*

Yeah, that's right. Now, stay still for me like a good-

*Growing furious in seconds, she shoves him away and sinks her teeth into his arm. He yells, trying to pry her off. But she doesn't budge.*

*The man quickly starts to feel weak, growing pale and sickly as she deepens the bite. People scream. Some try to attack her or pull her off.*

*2... 3... 4... one by one, every person she bites falls ill, some dying on the spot. She wasn't thinking anymore.*

*She hears a click, and turns just as-*

*BANG*

*She collapses, dead the moment she hit the ground.*

*The man who shot, too scared to call the police, simply runs. Someone would find the scene eventually.*

[bringbackmaes14]

I feel like an extremely offline grandma would understand this explicitly

Especially my paternal grandma. My mom and dad have been divorced for 20 years now, and Grandma literally has five living biological children each with their own spouses (including my stepmom) who have been around forever, but my mom, the one my dad divorced, is still her favorite. It was like the funniest thing ever when my older sister got married. My grandma complains a lot about "why can't I die yet? Surely I'm old enough and I don't have anything else to do" and she's been this way for like 8 years and she's turning 90 this year. That being said, when my sister got married in our home state of South Carolina, all of my dad's family, including Grandma, had to travel down from their home state of Illinois which is a long travel for an 82 year old woman. And she apparently bitched the whole way down about "well I'm happy for her but I don't see why I have to go all the way down there" and she continued to complain when she got there leading up to the wedding until she saw my mom. I swear to god I don't think I'd ever seen my grandma happier in her entire life than she was to see my mom after not having seen her for 13 years. She instantly looked and moved like she was 20 years younger. My dad was so annoyed. It was so funny. His mom, my grandma just kept being like, "hush Dale, I'm spending time with this wonderful woman right now. Go help set up your daughter's wedding."

So yeah I know it says a chronically offline grandma, but if it was specifically my paternal grandma, I think she'd get it.

Also this is the grandma in question, rocking her handmade coat (that looks like she murdered all the residents of Sesame Street) at my cousin's wedding a few years back:

[croquettish]

I am still going insane over The Rings (tm). Like? Did Sam have it made for John? Did John give him something in return? Do they consider themselves married or just sort of "promised to each other"? DOES JEHUDA KNOW? (Sara definitely knows tbh)

Also obsessed at how John yells at Kubyenka when they're going back to Kuttenberg through the tunnels. Boy probably can't lift a sword without taking his own eye out, but he was so ready to throw hands at that moment.

Also also need to know what John got up to in Kolín and how his reunion with Sam went down when he get back from Suchdol.

I've been so in my feels about these two the last few days. Got the start of a fic going and everything (send help).

So I went back to check, and before the patch we had Sam wearing three (!) rings when he meets Henry before taking him to see John.

Which he then took off for some reason???:

And, as we know, John wasn't wearing any at that time either.

On the wagon ride, they also weren't wearing any rings at the time:

And since I did just... go out of my way to replay all of Into the Underworld again, I can now say that they are both wearing them in that scene:

And the same is true in the wagon:

All three rings match. So here's what I think happened from a dev team perspective. They realized that there had been an oversight and that there was a mismatch between the cinematic that plays right before you go and meet Liechtenstein and all other times that Sam is on screen. And so they decided, you know what, while we're here doing this anyway, we might as well canonize Jamuel and watch the fandom implode (fair tbh).

My initial thought had been that a naysayer could come in to argue that Sam had given him such a ring as protection so that he could freely traverse the Jewish quarter with impunity (even tho we know he is actively in hiding and unlikely to leave the tavern, if the basement at all). But this kind of disproves that in a big way. Because it's three matching rings. There's no way that wasn't deliberate.

Anyway, your question got me thinking about Sam asking a blacksmith to make a matching set of rings for this man he's besotted with (probably told him they were meant to be spares in case he lost the others... it's possible that he would have made the one that reads Samuel read John instead otherwise; as it is, it does just look like a sign of ownership... joke's on you, homophobia, I'm into that shit!), and that got me real emotional because holy shit. His father, the man who couldn't be with the person he loved, was a blacksmith. And here is Sam, seeking out a blacksmith to craft him these signs of love and promise for the person he loves but can't be with. It's like he's seeking out Martin's blessing to say "you couldn't have this, and I can't have this, but this is the closest thing, and at least I'll have that."

All of this is of course pure conjecture. Maybe they're promised to each other, maybe they're meant to act as wedding rings. I personally think it's a case of "we can't be wedded before the eyes of God, but this is as close as it gets, and that will have to be good enough for both of our Gods."

There's no way Sara doesn't know. She and Sam are so close and Sam is such a mama's boy. Sara knows. And given her own history with... love... she'd obviously understand. Love this particular comic a whole lot.

And tbh, I think this is one reason why Sam recognizes Hansry for what it is:

We can have this exchange with Sara about Jehuda trying to find her another husband. Alongside the existence of his own relationship, I think this contributes heavily. He sees Hans not wanting to get married, then sees him interact with Henry (and also with himself), and realizes that the emotions he's seeing in Hans echo those he's seen in his mother's own resistance. As she was already in love with someone else that she couldn't be with.

Does Jehuda know? That's a good question. I couldn't say for certain, but I'm going to err on the side of saying no. There's enough friction between those two that I don't think Sam would trust him with something that contentious. That said, one of my top two favorite pieces of fanart for Jamuel is this comic, and I'm kind of obsessed with the idea that Jehuda has started catching on that There's Something There and is trying to put a stop to it... not that it's very... effective... sorry, Jehuda, they're already gay married...

Anyway you activated a particular trap card with your mention of John yelling at Kubyenka because when I replayed Exodus yesterday that shit took the fuck OUT. Because he sounds SO ANGRY.

He legitimately gets so pissed on Sam's behalf, and that speaks volumes to me. That and the fact that Kubyenka can call him out even on the wagon ride to Kuttenberg already:

Incidentally, I think this is also part of the reason why he and Sam end up as close as they are by the time that Suchdol happens, so much so that they insist on only doing the raid if they can go together. Kubyenka might not know about Hansry, but I think he knows about Jamuel, and he respects it enough not to comment on it.

THAT SAID, when I replayed Exodus yesterday I did learn the delightful news that the game insists on you killing the murderers that killed Sam's friends. I tried knocking them out at first and was struggling (fam, this pacifist playthrough might be impossible if I don't turn on invincibility and even if I do it'll be hard lmfao) and then John joined Henry and started punching himself. I mean full fisticuffs. Like he's a trained pugilist!

Anyway, I think he can wield a sword just fine, I just think he vastly prefers not to!!

You mentioned their Kolin reunion, and godddddddddddd... can you even imagine? John going absolutely mad from lack of information, naturally he'd send out spies to figure out where Sam was and if he was all right, only to then learn that they were under siege. That, or no one ever returned alive. That would leave him panicked. Even if he did learn, all of his attempts at sending aid would also have failed bc they would have been led by individuals trying to sneak through. Maybe he learns about what happened after Henry sneaks out, but-- oh my god he'd have Sam with him!!!! Sam would be in a bad way, but he'd most likely send word to John at least, and the chances are that John would then meet him at Suchdol if he could. Most likely it wouldn't be safe, in which case he'd send word that he'd make it to Kolin as quickly as he could but that he was alive.

[rekino2114]

How would Natsuki and Sayori (ddlc) react to their bf suddenly snuggling up to them while complaining about how cold he is.

(Could you also add genderbend Mahito (jjk) please? Since I saw you doing genderbend Gojo and Sukuna once)

Snuggling up to Natsuki, sayori, and fem!mahito because it's cold

A/n:it's really ironic of me to do this post in summer while It's super hot outside and I'm burning

Natsuki (ddlc)

She instantly blushes and tries her best to pull you away.....failing both because she's really not strong and also because even if she'll never admit it she's actually not that bothered by it

Once you explain that It's cold, she'll reluctantly let you cuddle up to her still blushing and with a frown on her face but not saying anything

Eventually, when you cuddle for long enough, she'll end up snuggling up to you with her face on your chest if you enquire as to why she'll blush even more call you an idiot and tell you that it's only fair because of what you did and that she's cold too

"A-ah! Y/n, what the heck are you doing?"

"Hm? What do you mean? I'm just cuddling you"

"Yeah! Why?"

"Do I really need a reason?"

"For cuddling me out of nowhere? Yeah"

"It's just cold, is that a good enough reason to cuddle my girlfriend"

[Natsuki narrows her eyes at you but sighs and lays her head on your chest now fully cuddling with you]

"........I guess it's fine if you don't bother me too much"

"Really? Cause you seem to be enjoying ot quite a bit now"

"S-shut up!"

Sayori (ddlc)

She's basically the opposite of natsuki. Sayori is actually usually the one who randomly cuddles up to you at any time she can but she's definitely not complaining if you do that

The moment you complain about being cold she'll make a determined face and wrap her arm around you (to the best of her abilities which is.....not a lot since you're larger than her) and try to be the best cuddling partner she can by warding off the cold

When she realizes that's not working that much she brings a blanket and covers both of you with it until you fall asleep cuddling

"Oh baby what's up with the sudden affection? Not that I'm complaining, you know I love cuddling more than most things in the world"

"Sorry I'm just cold and you're pretty warm, do you mind cuddling?"

[Sayori gasps dramatically and wraps her arms around you]

"You're cold!? Really!? How could I have let that happen?"

"Wha-"

"Don't worry y/n I'd never let the cold be a bother to my amazing boyfriend! I'll protect you from the cruel frost!"

[You blink before giggling and kissing her cheek and nuzzling into her]

"You're the best sayori, I love you"

"........thank you that actually means a lot to me"

Fem!mahito (jjk)

I know I have previously stated that I wouldn't write for fem!mahito but I changed my mind I actually can. Only with a curse reader though. However I still will never write for a fem!midori

She laughs and hugs you back gladly. She doesn't really know why you're doing it but mahito is really clingy in general and loves cuddling so she doesn't need a reason to

When you tell her you're cold she's a bit confused, she didn't actually know curses could get cold but she's not complaining if it means you want to cuddle her

She definitely makes some jokes about transforming your body to make you handle the cold better like giving you fur but she wouldn't actually do that if you don't want to. However she's more than happy to change her own body to make herself softer or warmer for cuddles

"Hm? Oh what's wrong y/n? Do you need something?"

"I just wanna cuddle it's cold here and you're kinda warm"

"Oh really? I never realized we could feel cold, especially not with jogo around"

"Huh you're right that's weird.....but I don't care, I just want warm cuddles"

[Mahito suddenly extends her arms and completely wraps them around you, laying your head on her chest that you swore she increased the size of to make it comfier]

"Of course~ I'll give you the best and warmest cuddles there are, y'know I also increased my body temperature so you can use me as an actual heater"

".....thanks, this is nice"

"You're welcome, you know I can use my powers to do way more than torture our enemies, even with how fun that is I like using them to make you happy too"

[mixtape127]

オンラインラブ ☆ (online love)

genre : non!idol bang chan x gn reader, college au, cliché nerd!chan, and bf!chan

summary : Because loving Chan is an easy task.

warnings : none, except tooth rotting fluff...

words : 2.1k

notes : GUYS i've been gone for so long omg, got busy with uni and life as a whole so i was kinda inactive for idk how long??? but im starting to write again so here i am <3 and btw, english isn't my native language, so i really do hope i actually wrote well and if i made dumb mistakes, i'm sooooooo sorry :((

Loving Chan has always been an easy task. Not that you’d fall into a routine and get bored on the second week into dating. No. It’s just easy, and it’s meant to work out. You knew loving him was right the first time you two went out for a drink in matching shirts (with the ghosts from Pacman on it, yours was green and his was blue). Or the first time you went to IKEA because he needed a new shelf (his broke and Chan is a serial organiser, if things aren’t right and in their right place he’ll go mad) and you hid in beds and closets. Or the first time he let you stick glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, holding your ankles so you won’t fall. Or when you complained about him always straightening his hair and he ended up stopping and bought a rose-scented shampoo to help his curls come back again. 

You love a lot of things about this man. His mouth, when it sometimes goes sideways when he speaks, and how his plump lips look in the morning when he’s been pouting all night. He hates certain fabrics, and hates wearing rings because they irritate his skin. Chan likes the scent of honey and milk, and collects wolf plushies. He’s cute when he’s thinking, when he doesn’t figure things out. You secretly hope he never figures anything out.

In movies, everyone says that dating a nerd is lame, that they look dumb with their big glasses and would rather stay in front of a laptop than touch a human. But they’re wrong. Oh, they’re so wrong. Because Chan is a nerd: he loves video games, spending his nights playing Genshin Impact and even got banned from League Of Legends because he was cursing people out in Australian slang (you witnessed everything– it looked like the end of the world). He produces music and barely sleeps, stays seated in his desk chair with glasses on and hair sticking out in every goddamn direction. How can a man this hot and built like a fridge turned out to be the sweetest and selfless man on earth? Every time you were feeling down, just the sight of his smile could heal whatever wound that refused to close. The way he would tell you that he’s proud of you even if you just managed to fix the sink in the kitchen. The way his apartment became your second home, because your first was right in his arms. 

Oh god, you felt so lucky. Like ‘lucky-enough-to-bet-a-million-wons-tonight’ or ‘which-god-blessed-me-with-this-gift’ lucky. 

You were stepping out of class when your phone buzzed. The day hasn’t been rougher than others, but it had been kind of tiring. The kind where you would check the time every now and then and pray that the minutes would pass by faster. And it did, at some point. You fish out your phone from your coat’s pocket– because Autumn has been colder than usual– and unlock it. Of course, it was Chan. Or more like ‘do-not-respond (except he’s cute)’ like you had renamed him in your contacts. And has always, no matter how much he claimed he was ‘wolf-like’, when he texts you this way, he sounds like a golden retriever wagging its tail, waiting for his favorite human to get home and cuddle.

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): hey

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): i skipped my last lecture

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): come over

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): got this new update on genshin

do-not-respond (except he’s cute): skirk is hot but not as hot as you….

Of course. Those stupid pick up lines. Of course.

And as always, like a routine, you roll your eyes and head right to the subway, determined to get to your boyfriend’s apartment more than anything. Loving Chan is an easy task, and it’s been an easy task for 9 months already. He joked a week ago about it, something like “Well, we survived long enough for pregnancy!” and you had hit him in the shoulder with the palm of your hand and he pouted for exactly 0.325 seconds before cupping your face and kissing you. You knew that already, but Chan could ruin the whole city down if it meant keeping you safe. He’s just like that. He loves you the sweetest way ever, the purest way ever. Like bright mornings in Spring, birds chirping and soft leaves already showing up through the canopies. Or the first snow in December and the way it paints the streets so beautifully. Or the first drop of water after a long draining day. Or the sweet pastries he always buys you at the corner store when he heads back from University on Mondays.

When you step out of the subway station and after a little 3 minute walk to Chan’s place, it was colder outside. Not the type to freeze down your bones but enough to make them feel a bit breakable. But again, it was something Chan could fix pretty quickly. Like everything else.

Before you even registered it, just like your feet knew where to guide you, you’re in front of his door. You don’t need to knock, you know the password. 031401, a weird combination of your birthdays mixed together in addition. He tried to explain it once, but you never really got it, and stopped questioning it– as long as it made sense in his head, that’s all that mattered. You push open the door, step inside, toss your shoes, placing them neatly and straight, before padding to his bedroom. It smelled like rose, honey, milk, and cedarwood. And it meant that: he took a shower, made himself a hot milk and honey drink, then put on cologne for whatever reasons. Simple.

You push open the door to his bedroom and step inside, putting your bag, coat and scarf down near his bed. His room is always plunged in purple LEDs, a few pictures and posters on one side of the wall, a neatly-made bed, a rug, a closet with mostly dark clothes and a huge desk with everything to play and produce music. And wolf plushies on the shelves above his headboard. 

And then you approach from behind: he’s seated in his desk chair, on his PC, literally smashing the keyboard and mumbling under his breath. He’s in a big hoodie, black– as always– and big baggy sweatpants. No socks, because he never really wears some at home. His hair is messy, curly, and still damp at the ends. His headphones are perched on his ears, and he’s doing that thing he always does: munching on his bottom lip. 

You put both your hands on his shoulders from behind, maybe surprising him a little, because he jolts slightly and his headphones slip. He makes that little yelp, before yanking his head back, looking up at you upside down. And there it is.

That smile. That dimpled smile, the one that silently says that you’re his whole world. You always felt out of place in your own life, not really fitting, not nearly enough. But finding him was like putting a period in the last sentence of a book. A finality. You went through the whole book, and you finally understood. Loving him was an easy task.

“You’re late,” he simply states, smiling with that crooked tilt. 

“3 minutes, Chan,” you simply say back, leaning down to press a slight peck on the tip of his nose. He scrunches it right after.

“3 minutes is too long,” he responds, stretching with his arms up, just an excuse to turn his chair around and face you, hands on your hips while you stand between his legs. “I missed you today.”

“You saw me this morning,” you roll your eyes.

“Yes, and the whole day passed by and I didn’t get to see you,” he states.

“You’re corny.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

That gets you a nudge of his foot in your calf, and you playfully act like he just stabbed you thoroughly. And then silence. Just looking at each other like the other holds the universe in their eyes.

“Come here.” 

He finally says, voice soft, and tinged with that neverending awe he has for you. And you do, you take a step forward as he guides you to sit down on his thighs, straddling his lap and facing him. His hands rest on your hips as he gazes up at you.

“How was your amazing day as a psychology majoring student?”  he asks sarcastically, tilting his head on the side, his fingers drawing patterns on the small of your back above your shirt.

“Prof Lee graded my thesis a meaningful ‘49.37/100’ because it missed some ‘key points’.” you pout, playfully, half joking and half fulminating because gosh, he could have graded more so you’d get the full points.

“What a bitch… Stab him. I’ll bail you out of jail.” Chan answers, pinching your hip slightly.

You yelp, before nudging his shoulder with your hand, and he laughs. That squeaky laugh that makes you think that he’s suffocating sometimes. You shake your head, before scoffing.

“Shut up,” you say.

“Make me.” 

“I won’t.”

“You sure about that, love?” 

And there it is again. That pet name, that endearment. “Love”. Gosh, you usually hate those surnames, but this one? Lethal. You don’t have time to answer before he leans in, his hand coming up to rest on the space under your jaw, fingers half on your cheek and your hair, guiding you to meet him halfway. Every time he kisses you, it feels like the first. You feel a bit nervous, your fingertips become all tingly and trembling for the first few seconds, and your stomach turns and constricts but in the right way. His lips are soft against yours, fitting like two puzzle pieces, like they were written to be joined together. His hand slides on your nape, tangling in your hair to tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss. It’s not rushed. It’s never rushed. It’s always soft and sweet, always not-too-much, always waiting and asking, always meaning. He kisses you like you’re meant to disappear and it’s the last time he’ll get the chance to do it. He touches you like you’re made of some sort of porcelain that could break under too much pressure. And he holds your hand like he would hold your heart if you gave it to him in a glass jar. Because Chan is like that.

He hums in the kiss, lips moving against yours, and you forget where you are for a moment. He tastes like honey, a mix of sugar and sweetness. Obviously he does. His tongue teases the seam of your bottom lip before you grant him access. The kiss deepens even more, and your hands come up to curl in the collar of his hoodie. He’s so warm, and you’re still a bit cold from outside. But he’s here, so you won’t stay this way forever.

He breaks the kiss only for a moment, and your eyes flutter open. Chan simply reaches up to grab his glasses, taking them off and putting them on his desk behind before crashing– not leaning, crashing– his lips against yours. You gasp a bit in the exchange, but quickly melt into it. Because that’s how Chan is. He’s the sweetest, but gosh he is hot. And when he does things like that, it’s a reminder that he is just a man indeed– but such a hot man. He’s the perfect combination of everything, like he was baked with a recipe with the right amount of everything and not too less or too much. Perfectly balanced. How could he exist?

You move your lips against his, your tongues meeting, your breaths catching perfectly like chords in a melody, your hands holding a bit tighter, brows furrowed in some sort of focus. It feels great, like he’s breathing air back in your lungs while taking it away from you. And when he pulls away, he’s smiling. His lips are kiss-swollen, pinkish and smeared with a bit of saliva. But in a good way again, because everything he does and everything he is is in a good way.

He opens his eyes, heavy lidded but still looking right at you, a grin on his face like the cat that got the cream, and he kinda did. His hand comes up, thumb brushing your bottom lip in a slight left and right motion.

“So, where were we?” he asks, voice sultry, like sugar on cinnamon rolls.

“You’re infuriating.” you mumble.

And he laughs. Because loving Chan is like that.

It has always been an easy task.