#and take the fun glass reflective paint and PUT IT IN YOUR ASS

[1starqi]

i hate anish kapoor

hey if youre anish kapoor go fuck yourself

[aurorawritestoescape]

ALWAYS AND FOREVER || 1,6k

post-outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel comes home after a hard day on patrol and you comfort him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, ANGST, m/f masturbation, mention of somno, mention of canon typical violence, mention of death. I chose not to include all the warnings so as not to spoil the fic.

A/n: written for @iamasaddie ‘s writing challenge 2.0. color: Joel’s denim shirt. genre: hurt/comfort. prompt: "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." Aly, you creative genius, thank you for hosting such a fun event! Also sending you kisses and hugs for the gif in my mb! Love you, baby!♥️ Smooches to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing the fic💕

MASTERLIST

*****

Joel stomps through the bedroom door, growling and mumbling obscenities under his breath. He’s tense, every nerve is an open wire, every unexpected sound makes him flinch and grit his teeth. He’s tired, lack of sleep painted his skin gray and his beard is all patchy. He looks like shit.

“What is it, Joel?” You ask sitting on your favorite spot on the bed, the left side, which is closer to the window and to the sun that is a rare sight in autumn here. Joel often laughed at you calling you a cat for your love to lie there, basking in the sunshine or napping. And you loved taking naps so much. When Ellie, Joel and you came to Jackson and settled, you couldn’t get enough of that sweet afternoon sleep.

Sometimes Joel would snuggle up to you, spooning your sleeping body, enveloping you like a big warm cloud. Many times you’d wake up to his lips moaning in your ear and his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy, your body already vibrating on the verge of climax. You loved it. You loved him and he loved you.

“What is it?” You sing the question, repeating it again. His frustration, annoyance, anger or whatever else that ruined his day is about to spill everywhere, staining every corner of this house, and you need to stop it, defuse the bomb that’s about to explode.

“Nothing,” he drops in your direction, not looking at you and you sigh. He untucks his flannel shirt and strides to the bathroom. He doesn’t wash his hands and face right away. His eyes are boring into his own reflection, hands gripping the sink until his knuckles whiten. Not being able to contain himself any longer, he roars and elbows the mirror, shattering it into pieces.

“You hurt?” You ask quietly, standing in the doorframe, hands clasped shyly in front of you. You’re wearing his denim shirt and panties, nothing else.

His head whips in your direction and there are tears in his beautiful brown eyes, bloodshot from his constant insomnia.

You furrow your brows and step into the little room. He raises his hands, trying to stop you from walking on the glass-littered floor but drops them, seeing your bare feet gracefully step between the remnants of the mirror.

When you’re close you look up into his pained face and put your palm on his elbow, the one he just jammed into the wall. He doesn’t flinch.

“Wash your hands and come to bed. Please,” you ask quietly and reach up kissing his lips.

He does what you’ve asked him. He always did. He trusted you like no one else in this goddamn world. Maybe only Ellie and Tommy.

Joel sits on the bed next to you and you make him lie down, your hands applying light pressure on his tired shoulders.

He exhales feeling the frustration and rage leave his body already, bit by bit. He wants to pull you to him, hug you, kiss you but like a ray of sun you slip away from his fingers. He watches you get up and walk to the window.

His gaze catches the sway of your hips, the curve of your ass peeking out from under his shirt and he already feels his jeans getting too restrictive for his stiffening cock.

“Pull it out,” you tell him, quiet dominance in your voice, after you turn around and perch your ass on the window sill. He looks at you with defiance at first, always ready to object, but your sweet smile makes his hands dart down to unzip his jeans. You pull down your panties and take them off.

The only thing you have on now is his old denim shirt, worn out and soft, the one you stole from him years ago. You’re unclasping it now, fingers quick and sure and he watches you, palming his throbbing cock through his boxers.

You leave the shirt open and he sees a valley between your breasts and your belly. He catches a glimpse of your pussy and takes a sharp breath.

“Pull it out, Joel,” you ask with a soft and sultry tone, the one that makes his cock twitch every time he hears it. His name on your lips is like a balm for his restless soul and he places it somewhere deep for later to use, to remember.

He finally pulls his boxers down and takes out his semi hard cock. You inhale deeply and give him a little smile.

“You’re so tense, Joel,” you purr, lifting on leg and placing your foot on the window pane, “Relax for me.”

Your pussy is exposed to him now and his hungry gaze latches on your blooming flower while he’s holding his breath.

“Play with yourself for me, sweetheart,” he pleads before spitting into his palm. He wraps it around his girthy cock and starts slowly moving it up and down.

Your hand resting on your inner thigh slides to your center and with two of your fingers you spread your folds to show him your glistening pussy.

“Hnggg,” Joel groans, bucking his hips and thrusting his cock into his own huge fist.

“Wanna taste you, baby,” he rasps, eyes pleading under the bushy eyebrows.

You shake your head lightly, giving him a warm smile and start rubbing your clit. Joel’s watching you and pumping his cock faster, the skin on his hand wet with precum, his moans accompanied by your soft whimpers. Your chest is heaving and the denim shirt opens up, exposing your breasts.

“Make yourself feel good, my love,” his voice is quiet and full of love.

The hand on your pussy gets busy, as you’re plunging your fingers into your crying hole and move them in and out with the rhythm of his cock fucking his tight fist.

The other hand kneads your breasts, tugs on your pebbled nipples.

His hungry gaze desperately darts between your face, tits, belly, pussy. The vision of you, weaved into the golden light from the window behind you, brings tears to his eyes. He wishes he could take a picture, draw you like this, capture this image and store it forever behind his eyelids. Joel grips his cock tighter at the base, delaying his release for a few moments. He’s getting drunk on the sight in front of him, insatiable and already thirsty for more.

Joel is happy to forget about everything for these few minutes, his mind occupied by your fingers being pushed deeper into your sweet cunt, your face twisted with pleasure, back arched and legs trembling. He can hear how wet your pussy is.

Soon a climax takes over you as you freeze for a second before waves of pleasure shake your body making you cry out his name only for his ears,

“Joel!”

He wishes you screamed it coming on his cock and his cum spurted deep inside your pussy instead of all over his belly and hand like his pulsating cock is doing now.

You sniff, eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and he smiles, recognizing your telltale sign of a satisfying orgasm.

“C’mere, crybaby,” he whispers with a tired smile, wiping his spilled cum with the hem of his shirt.

You’re next to him in a second, lying on your stomach, arms folded on his broad chest, your chin resting over them.

“My sweet girl.”

His gaze showers you with warmth and adoration, arms itching to hold you, lips - to kiss.

“What happened, Joel?” Your piercing eyes are searching for the answer in his face. He takes a deep breath looking up at the ceiling, trying to quiet the rage, rising from the pits of his stomach again.

“We were on patrol. Me and this new kid. Dumbass! I told him to be careful but the asshole didn’t wait for me… rushed into the house when I specifically told him to wait…Found him on the floor, fighting a clicker. Bastard was lucky I was there on time. Shot the damn thing just before it bit his fucking face off.”

“In that house?” You ask quietly and he nods.

You sigh and climb a little higher on the bed and plant a kiss on his weathered lips. He averts his eyes embarrassed by the smell of whiskey you must have noticed but you smile and cup his scruffy cheek.

“You saved him. I’m proud of you, Joel.”

He closes his eyes, comforted by the softness of your touch, by your praise and he feels his soul healing a little. But the memories flood his mind and a second later his serenity shutters again.

“Yeah, I did. I saved him,” he rasps looking deep into your eyes, “but I didn’t save you.”

A tear slides down his cheek and you kiss it away. You pepper kisses over his eyes, nose, lips and then search for his sad eyes and speak softly,

“You can’t save everyone, Joel.”

“I don’t give a shit about everyone,” he snaps, fire waking up behind his eyes again, “I care about you. And I fucking lost you.”

His eyes are pleading for a miracle, tracing your slightly blurry features, but you can’t make it happen.

“You didn’t lose me, Joel, I’m right here,” you purr against his cheek, before taking his face in your hands. Your love is so strong, Joel can swear he feels their warmth on his skin.

“It’s gonna be ok, Joel. You’re gonna be ok. You have people who love you. Ellie, Tommy. And you have me. Always will.”

Joel nods and wishes he could see you longer but the exhaustion takes over and soon he falls into deep relaxing sleep, lulled and comforted by the ghost of you.

*****

Thank you for reading!🌺

Please consider reblogging and commenting if you enjoyed the fic. Your feedback motivates me so much!♥️

Masterlist

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @missannfairy @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover

If you’d like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[mlobsters]

supernatural s6e19 mommy dearest (w. adam glass)

well my whole eve/victoria pedretti mind connection (also this afternoon was crying for a good 20 minutes while painting and rewatching the haunting of hill house) this disabling the exit to the bar and then everyone trying to eat each other reminds me of that church scene in midnight mass (was she even in that one? lol) but way less emotionally fraught. and shorter. adds to the list of gif comparatives of various stuff with spn that i may never get around to because making gifs is tedious work i don't particularly enjoy.

i think i'm delighted to hear licensed music because it's so infrequent now and it's a lot more fun than the score 😬

when i was a kid, i helped my dad fill shotgun shells using something like this (primarily for shooting skeet at a range though he also hunted)

anyway. dean is using a literal tablespoon to put the phoenix's ashes in these special shells apparently. fear not, a well used shotgun shell reloader in the back there (lee load-all reloader only $79.99 at cabela's!)

DEAN Why has it always got to be me that makes the call, huh? It's not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude's busy. (Cas appears behind him. Dean turns around, surprised) Cas, get out of my ass!

CAS I was never in your–

wait hold up is this like that weird wording that i talked about before, out of your ass...

okay this must be a wording thing because they had pestilence use the same and i was very perplexed by the phrasing. SHERIFF MILLS I lose my job over this, I am taking it out of your ass! s5e21 DR. GREEN You mean my brothers. What they did to my brothers. No. The only reasonable thing to do here is to…take it out of their healthy young asses!

that's so strange. anyway. woo they can use more gay innuendo jokes because they have a non-brother dude who we're saying/joking/but actually saying has Feelings for dean to be on the receiving end (har har) 😑

LENORE I remember. Your hunter friend almost killed me.

SAM Well if it makes you feel any better, uh, he turned into a vampire and I chopped his head off.

DEAN Yeah. With razor wire. Wicked.

dean's so proud

okay so thank fuck they didn't make sam kill another pretty lady that was a monster. we don't need madison 2.0.

CAS We needed to move this along.

mr funny again

🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

CAS Something in this town, is, uh, it's affecting me. I assume it's Eve.

DEAN So wait, Mom's making you limp?

CAS Figuratively, yes.

DEAN How?

CAS I don't know, but she is.

DEAN Well, that's great, because without your power, you're basically just a baby in a trenchcoat.

SAM I think you hurt his feelings.

don't be an asshole, dean. this is why i called cas a work friend :p

my dad travelled a ton for work when i was a kid so he always had a company car. one of them was a chevy caprice classic like this one, but white.

well the baby in the trench coat decapitated someone. good enough for you, dean?

reflection in the glass just reminding me of how model-pretty jensen's face is

are the kids gonna be monsters and try to eat sam and dean. okay the oldest "kid" has visible stubble and is 24. baby face and short stature and no pesky child actor rules

CAS We need to find Eve now.

DEAN Yeah. Go. Me and Sam just gotta make a milk run.

CAS We need your help here.

DEAN Hold your water. We'll be back in a few.

CAS Dean, Dean. Millions of lives are at stakes here, not just two. Stay focused.

my face at the "stay focused": 😒 like being told to relax

DEAN Are you kidding?

CAS There's a greater purpose here.

DEAN You know what, I-I'm getting a little sick and tired of the greater purposes, okay? I think what I'd like to do now is save a couple of kids. If you don't mind. We'll catch up.

*schmoopy music*

oh the brother mush intensifies! big brother tells little brother he should get some rest and they cuddle up to sleep. and sam looks at dean, dean smiles fondly. sam makes his thinking thoughtful face out the window as he (obviously) thinks about how dean took care of him haha

BOBBY They won't take long.

CAS You don't know that. They may find more wayward orphans along the way.

😂

BOBBY Oh, don't get cute.

CAS Right. Pardon me for highlighting their crippling and dangerous empathetic response with "sarcasm". It was a bad idea – letting them go.

BOBBY Come on. You don't let Sam and Dean Winchester do squat. They do what they gotta. You know that.

haha pissy cas again, a treat. and ain't that the truth, they're gonna do what they want to do, come hell or highwater

oh my god the extended family reunion and the exchanged looks with sam and dean. WE GET IT, GUYS. feeling soft about big brothers taking care of little brothers. saving lives, reuniting families

this is so interesting, in a way, because i had no idea that cas had this darkside situation going on. the thing with the souls, the torturing. i know nothing about his character arc! when i know a lot about sam and dean's

lol so one of the kids was a monster. all gone, the mushy feelings

EVE You look upset. If it makes you feel any better, Ryan was bound to work on you. Little wayward orphan, like yourselves. There's nothing you can do about it now. So let's talk.

samantha smith's voice (eve as mary here) reminds me of someone in hill house. i think elizabeth reaser (played shirley [also esme in twilight])?

this whole thing is a lot. glad dean had some amazing forethought to consume some of the ash to make himself poisonous to her eating him LOLL

cas finally gettin something cool to do

demons *gasp*

so is cas working with crowley? i admit to tuning out a little when eve was talking about the soul battery stealing plan

well i guess that answers that. something weirdly satisfying about crowley scolding cas, what's that about

while i was looking up sam's boots, because i'm a weirdo, this site boldly declared dean winchester smells like some particular fragrance. i thought that was weird to be so specific without a source mentioned and so then i go searching the internet for dean winchester cologne. and ended up some pinterest link that is a youtube video of a con thing with j2 and jackles saying he wears tom ford "wood" (note: it's oud wood, but oud means a type of wood. agarwood wood.) and "it works" and then padalecki asking where he sprays it. i think for my sanity it is best i continue to avoid bts/con related content

like, nothing on the hey i know you front. suddenly started getting exclusively side characters actors i've never seen in anything else

also i guess eve is dead? that was anticlimactic. like a slightly longer than usual monster of the week. i guess we can't be working under the threat of being sent to hell all the time

[whattheheckmidoriya]

Stuck With Me

Requested by: @cloud-joie

Request: Hello 🌸. Hope you are having a great day. Can I make a request with the prompt: “Ew. Get away from me. No– not you. You stay.” when the reader has the same attitude as Aizawa, where they don't like to be around people and the only person they tolerate is Aizawa. And whey they are together they are super sweet. The opposite of what they reflect.

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Word Count: 1,434

Warnings: One slightly suggestive comment by Kayama, but nothing explicit!

Join the taglist here!

Author's note: Ah, I felt so nice to write again! Thank you SO MUCH for your patience, love! This took much longer than I would've wanted, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!♡

•

“It would be unfortunate if you lost a hand, Hizashi.” You grumbled, a threat clear in your words as you continued working on grading papers.

The blonde froze behind you, face void of color at being caught in his crime. “Oh, c’mon! Just one sip!” You didn’t have to look at him to know he was flashing his best puppy eyes under his glasses.

Ink scratched at your papers as you continued working. “No.”

“But—”

“I asked you if you wanted some and you said no,” Swiftly, you pushed your coffee mug away from him, watching from the corner of your eye as he frowned at the action. “You’re not having mine. Suck it up.”

“You didn’t ask me if I wanted some of your delicious coffee!” Nemuri piped up, sprawling her figure over the couch. She flashed a cheeky grin. “Shouldn’t I also be graced by your humble offerings?”

“No,” Before she could argue, you continued, “You broke my other coffee machine and didn’t pay for it.” You clicked your tongue. “You lost coffee privileges.”

“Oh, don’t be so petty!” She pouted, earning a roll of your eyes.

Silence hung over you three, heavy and stiff, and though they knew better than to continue disturbing you, the act just seemed far too tempting to pass upon. The two heroes shared teasing glances, a wicked little thing twinkling in their eyes as they settled their gazes on you.

“So,” Hizashi started, feigned innocence tight in his voice. “How about we—”

“How about you keep quiet before I put your grown asses in time out?” The firm look of disapproval that painted your face was set like stone, one brow quirked in a silent challenge, daring them to continue. When you were only met with silence, you shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee before returning to your work.

Despite the initial bouts of silence, the two friends were relentless and wouldn’t take no for an answer. They would continue bugging you with trivial questions and fleeting conversations, their thoughts never remaining still for more than a few minutes at a time. It had taken more than just your patience to not snap at them, your head pounding with a headache as your hand clutched your pen in a white-knuckled grip. All you wanted was to finish your work and take the remainder of your day for some much-needed rest. That, however, seemed more like a feeble dream as your two friends continued to talk your ear off with their nonsense.

Taking your mug in your hands, you brought it up to your lips, grimacing as the drink seeped into your mouth. Great. Coffee’s gone cold.

Too wrapped up in your current predicament with the two energetic heroes who weren’t merciful enough to allow you a moment of silence, you hadn’t seen your lover walk in. Sore eyes fleeted over the unraveling scene before him, frowning at the look of exhaustion that lingered under your eyes. His feet pulled him further into the room, settling his things on a nearby table before directing himself to you.

“Hizashi I swear—” you began, patience slipping from your grasp as annoyance pulled your brows together.

“It’ll be fun! I promise!” Hizashi grinned, Nemuri nodding encouragingly by his side before slinging one arm over your shoulders.

A smirk played on her lips. “Don’t be such a sourpuss, hon! You’re still young, and I know that you’re also wild!” A mischievous glimmer twinkled in her eyes. “Join us tonight— enjoy some of the entertainment!”

You grimaced at the implication of her words, shaking her arm off of you. A glare hardened your gaze, one Shota recognized to be a mirrored copy of his own tired eyes. “Ew. Get away from me.”

At your tone, bitter, tired, and defeated, all three heroes froze in their places, watching as your shoulders drooped tiredly. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed heavily, deflating your chest in one weighed breath.

With no more words from you, everyone understood you had reached your limits. Some alone time was needed. Hizashi and Kayama whispered their apologies before filing out of the room, leaving Shota to grab his belongings. Before he could take hold of his things, though, your voice reached him in a mere breath of exhaustion. “No— not you. You stay.”

Shota looked over his shoulder, back at where you sat, his gaze softening at the silent plead that glossed over your eyes. He sighed. Quietly coming over, he knelt down by your side, gently locking his fingers around your own, smiling as you responded with a gentle squeeze of your hands.

“How are you?” Care and concern balmed over his words, his voice a soft rumbling in his chest that flooded you with comfort.

Deep breath in. Your forehead touched his gently, your heavy eyes fluttering at the warmth of his skin. Deep breath out. Gently, he rubbed circles over the back of your wrists, huffing a breath of amusement as you leaned further into his touch.

“Tired.” Shota hummed in understanding. The tale-tell signs were written all over you. The subtle shaking of your hands within his own. The darkening shadows under your eyes. The low drop of your shoulders. The heavy, repeating sighs that tried to expel the exhaustion from your body.

Tenderly, he kissed your knuckles, brushing your skin with gentle, loving pressings of his lips. A small, endearing act of love full of devotion and adoration. With one final lingering kiss to your hands, he peered up at you, letting his scarred fingers slowly travel up to the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks and pulling you closer to him. “Take a break, angel. Does a nap sound good?”

Tears welled in your eyes, fuzzing out the heavenly image of your lover. Turning to the side, you buried your face in his hands, effectively shielding him from the sight of your quivering lips. With a deep breath, you sank further into his touch, sliding out of your seat and onto the floor, where Shota carefully pulled your body close to his with a gentle tug.

You nodded.

One hand holding your head to his chest, while the other rubbed circles over your back— his heart shattered as your figure trembled with silent cries. He kissed the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings until your breath evened out, your heart timidly following the rhythm of his own. Shota was in no hurry to let go, his heart aching to somehow alleviate the troubles that plagued you.

It didn’t take much for Shota to realize you were much like him, reserved with a schooled face— a masochist of a workaholic that hangs by a thread when rest becomes a rare occurrence. He’s seen you wear yourself out a handful of times, but never like this. It would be of no surprise to him to learn it was his friends who had you tumbling over the edge.

He clicked his tongue. Surely, he’d have a word with them soon enough, but right now, in this very moment, his only concern was to care for the treasure he calls lover.

Looking down at you, he snickered, his lips threatening to curl into an endearing smile. Careful not to disturb you, he wiped the drying tear tracks that stained your skin, huffing a breath as you pressed your cheek closer to his chest.

Shota quietly maneuvered you both off of the floor, carrying you across the room before setting your slumbering figure over the couch cushions. Worn fingers lovingly traced over your face, memorizing the shape of your lips, the angle of your brows, the contour of your jaw. Butterflies fluttered deep within his stomach, heat rising to his cheeks as he shook his head.

Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of the plush blanket you always carry in your bag. He smiled. He had his sleeping bag, you had your blanket. Before he could turn to grab your blanket, a hand loosely held onto his wrist, tugging at his sleeve.

Dark eyes fleeted back to your restful face, a small pout on your lips. “Don’t leave me.”

His response came in the form of a reassuring squeeze of your hand, a preface to the gentle whisper that carried out the low rumbling of his voice. “I’m just grabbing your blanket, angel.” He lowered himself until his lips could reach your knuckles once again. “You’re stuck with me, okay?”

You hummed sleepily, “Awesome.”

Shota snickered, placing a kiss onto your forehead before stepping away.

Awesome, indeed.

•

Aizawa Shota taglist:

@runaowo @beecca9 @bandaidfaerie @zawasleepingbag @retaaschilling @rvgrsbrns @samx-jpeg @girl_lost_not_found @sir-knight-slytherdor @justheretoaskandread @andrastesmoth @yaskna @izukus-gf @imloudafsocoveryourears @ikisstoga @onebigfangirl @redspade227 @ghostly-haunted

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, trauma, sextoy, recording, anal.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: It was close but y’all wanted more Birch!Sam so here we go. This one is... porn. Let’s be honest lmao.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 5: Come on in, sit right down

💀💀💀

It was a pain you’d never felt before. It was more than physical, it was deep, it was like part of you was missing. Something taken from you. More than just that outdated concept of purity that you never bought into, more so your autonomy. You never felt very in control of your life, trapped in the small town with dreams but now your life was completely out of your grasp.

Sam left late, some time after midnight. It didn’t matter, you still felt him inside of you. You tried to rinse him off of you, out of you, but the shower only left you cold and hollow. You gave up on sleep just after five in the morning and you typed in a trance, barely thinking as your fingers fluttered over the keyboard.

Hours passed like days and you descended as you heard your nan below, the clink of her heavy cast iron pot on the stove. She cooked her oatmeal in it and it was heavy enough to hammer back in the loose floorboard in front of the fridge. She offered you some as you entered the kitchen and you sat at the table with a sigh.

“Is that man coming back?” she asked.

You tilted your head at her as she put a bowl in front of you and the bag of sugar just for you. You sprinkled the brown granules over your oatmeal and added milk, “you looking forward to it?”

“The only reason I didn’t spray Lysol in his eyes was because of you, girly,” she sat heavy with the jar of artificial sugar and the little cinnamon container, “you know I’d do anything to keep you safe even if you’re too dumb for your own good.”

You nodded and scooped up the thick oatmeal. You pushed your tongue through the oats and said nothing.

“I told you to stay away from that bar,” she huffed. The crotchety old lady was back.

“You seemed happy enough about the pie and wine,” you shrugged.

“You think I don’t know his kind. I’m an old lady, that won’t keep him from cracking my skull like poor old Mikey Rae,” she tutted, “that was the first biker I fucked with.”

“Nan,” you gasped at her language.

“Well, you’re an adult now. Gonna have to grow up quick if you messin’ with those boys,” she pointed her spoon at you, “but you say the word and I’ll twist his balls off. Being old only means I gotta be patient.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. You knew she was serious and you realised then that it was all a show. A cautious act that you’d mirrored for her own sake. But this was a problem you had to deal with yourself. The one thing you couldn’t live with was bringing harm to the woman who raised you.

“No ball twisting, nan,” you shook your head, “alright?”

“For now,” she returned, “but you be careful, girly. You’re in deep enough.”

“I know,” you bit the edge of your lip, “nan?”

“Mmm,” she grumbled as she swallowed.

“Mikey Ray, if he was one of them, who bashed him?” you asked.

“The second one, Colin,” she frowned, “cocky bugger, took what he wanted… until he got what he couldn’t handle.”

“And what happened to him?”

It was the most your nan ever told you about those days, more inclined to talk about her hippy festivals and protest arrests.

“I twisted his balls off,” she snickered, “in a manner of speaking.”

You drew your brows together as you watched her take another bite and she opened the pocket book of crosswords she kept on the table.

“In a manner of speaking?” you wondered.

“I plead the fifth,” she took the pencil from between the pages and adjusted her thick glasses, “but he wasn’t around to cause me any trouble.”

You shoved another spoonful into your mouth and sat back. You always thought your nan was a tough old bitch, you couldn’t imagine what she was like when she was your age.

💀

Sam showed up just after noon. You weren’t surprised but you weren’t happy either. You were only thankful he came in the back. You didn’t need Nan following through on her threats and you would rather she didn’t know about the visit. If you were fortunate, she didn’t notice him for her knitting.

He knocked on your door and you unlocked it. He made no move to enter as he twirled your phone between his fingers.

“Charged it last night,” he smiled, “thought we could have some more fun.”

“I’m working,” you said quietly.

“Did I ask?” his lips straightened and he tilted his head, “and it’s about time you came over. Kind feels off with the old lady just on the other side of the wall.” You winced at the memory of the night before. He noticed and chuckled. “Kinda hot too but… still,” he mused.

“You can’t come back later?” you crossed your arms.

“You were so good last night,” he said, “I don’t like this little game you’re playing so don’t make me give the old lady a show. Let’s go.”

You dropped your arms and grabbed your thinner jacket from the back of your chair and shoved your feet into your zip up Martens. He waited with his arm across the open door and you stepped past him as his other hand went to your ass and squeezed. He closed the door and followed you down the wooden steps.

The snow wasn’t as deep as the first fall and you crunched through to the sidewalk. He placed his arm over your shoulders as he ushered you along to the main road. You passed The Asp and cut through the lot as he waved to other members of the club.

“I talked to Bucky, let him know you won’t be an issue any longer,” he said, “right?”

“Right,” you echoed and hugged yourself against the bitter air.

“Aw, honey, don’t worry, we’re about to get you warmed up,” he led you down another side street and up the paved walk of a pale blue house, “this is my place, Chez, uh, Wilson.”

He let you inside and nudged you further in as he followed. You slid out of your boots and he helped you out of your jacket. His impatience showed as he unzipped his coat and tore off his own boots. He took out your phone and grinned.

“Today,” he held it up, “you can get this back… if you earn it.”

You stared at him and picked at the hem of your shirt. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers and he licked his lips.

“Why yes, you can take that off, that’s a great start,” he purred, “all of it.”

You clenched your teeth and gripped the fabric nervously. He shouldered past you and pointed across the front room.

“You can go wait for me in there,” he said, “I’ll be a couple.”

You nodded and made to pass him but he stopped you before you could enter the living room. The place was cozy even if you didn’t want to be there. He bent and turned your face up to kiss you sloppily. He tapped your ass again as he urged you onward.

“Gotta loosen you up,” he taunted, “in more ways than one.”

You continued across the room if only to get away from him, even if it wouldn't be for long. You pushed past the painted door and entered the bedroom. The wall was hung with a large framed diagram of a Harley and another of a bike engine. There was a large poster for the Godfather and a Marvin Gaye album leaned against a retro player. The bed was made and the carpet freshly vacuumed.

You went to the dresser and looked over the dog tags that hung from a miniature statue of David. You looked up at the large mirror over the dresser and you looked as scared as you felt. You gulped down your nerves as he entered and looked away from your reflection.

He had a stool in hand and kicked the door closed. He placed it between the bed and the dresser. He kept his hands on the top and his chest flexed beneath his grey henley. He watched you knowingly and tutted.

“You’re not naked,” he said, “don’t you want this back?”

He let go of the stool and revealed your phone once more. You murmured and lifted your shirt slowly. He went to the dresser and unfolded a small metal tripod and affixed the cell to it. He angled it then slid out the top drawer. You scoffed as he turned around with a large suction dildo and stuck it to the top of the stool, your hands frozen on your open fly.

“Um, what the hell?” you sputtered.

“I think you know what the hell but I’m more than happy to give direction,” he wiggled the dildo and let it wobble as he pulled away.

You gaped at it. You couldn’t fit that whole thing in you. How were you even supposed to get yourself onto that?

“Honey, quit stalling,” he warned as he put his hands on his hips. You blinked at him and scowled, “or we can make a special post for TikTok… but I think it might be against their terms of service.”

You glanced away and pushed down your jeans. You let your socks crumple in the ankles and stood to unhook your bra. He hummed as he moved to lean against the wall beside the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. You hesitated before you shimmied out of your panties, shying away as you eyed the stool.

“Oh,” he pushed away from the wall and reached into the drawer again. He tossed you a tube and you caught it. Lubricant. “You’re gonna wanna get some of that on there.”

You inhaled deeply and flipped open the cap. You cringed as you hovered the bottle over the tip of the dildo and squirted it onto the silicone. You spread it down the length of the toy and your hand shook. You felt him watching you as embarrassment burned through you.

You finished and capped the lube and set it on the dresser. He nodded to the toy and lifted a brow. You hid your discomfort and approached the stool. You stepped up onto the crossbar and clung to the edge of the seat as you brought your knee up. You felt as if it would all topple as you brought your other leg up.

You shuddered as you felt the tip against your cunt and you reached unsteadily between your legs. You rubbed the head of the toy against your folds to spread the lube and peeked over at Sam.

“Go on,” he ordered, “if you can get that whole thing inside you, I’ll give you your phone back.”

You gripped the toy and pushed it back to your entrance. You lowered yourself a little so it stretched you just slightly. You scrunched your nose at the discomfort and slowly eased further onto it. You got halfway and stopped as you gasped. Your fingers curled around the seat and the toy.

“You’re doing good, honey,” his voice was smoky and you looked at yourself in the mirror. The phone blocked the bottom half of the toy but you could see your cunt around the top.

You bent your knees further and groaned as your walls strained around the dildo. Your eyes watered as it hit your cervix and you arched your back to take it as deep as you could. You cried out as you reached the base.

“Whoa, you really did it,” he mused, “fuck, you look good all stretched out.”

You whimpered and adjusted your legs as you tried not to slip.

“Well, you know what to do,” he motioned up and down with his fingers.

“Please,” you breathed, “I did--”

“Not done yet,” he said pointedly.

You huffed and lifted yourself carefully. You pushed back down and let out a moan as the toy grazed your walls. The fullness was overwhelming, a painful pressure laced with pleasure. You rocked your hips as you moved on your knees and gripped the edge of the stool, mindful not to shake the stool too much.

You closed your eyes as your breath hitched. You needed more. The toy could only do so much as your clit thrummed and the wetness spread down your thighs.

“Mmmm,” Sam came around you and snaked his arm down your front. He pushed his fingers between your swollen folds and circled your bud, “you like that, don’t you, honey?”

You whined as your nerves sparked at his fingertips and you sped up. He planted his foot on the crossbar to keep the stool from tipping and you rode out your orgasm as his touch spurred you on.

“Ah, fuck,” he pressed against your back, “I’m so fucking hard.”

You panted and opened your eyes. You looked at yourself in the mirror but quickly shied away. You were weak, so weak.

He stepped around you and reached for the lube. You watched him as you didn’t move from atop the toy and he rounded you again. He drizzled the lube between your cheeks and flung the lube away. He pushed his fingers along your ass and lingered on your tight ring. You winced and tried to lift yourself off the dildo.

He caught your shoulder and held you down.

“Again,” he ordered.

You glanced at him in the mirror and he gave you a stern look as his fingers tightened around your shoulder. You held your breath and began to fuck the toy again. He nuzzled the back of your head and poked against your ass until his finger slid inside. You cried out and his hand went to your neck as he urged you on.

“Ah, honey,” he whispered against your hair.

He drew his finger in and out of your ass as a burning pressure seared through you and added to that in your cunt. 

“You can touch yourself,” he uttered as his fiery breath encircled you.

You did so without thinking. He pushed another finger into you and a squeak escaped your lips. You couldn’t help but delight in how the sensations mingled and bloomed to a new climax. He sped up in time with your hips and your legs shook as you came in a series of strangled mewls.

He kept on until you slowed to catch your breath. He slipped his fingers out of you and your head lolled as he removed his hand from your neck. You heard his zipper and as you looked back, his hand stretched across the back of your head and turned it straight. He bent so his head was next to yours and grasped your chin as he made you look at him in the mirror.

“One more time, honey,” he pulled his dick out and his tip brushed along your ass.

You tried to lift yourself off the toy but he hooked his arm around your middle and kept you on it.

“Sam, no, please,” you begged, “I can’t--”

“You can handle it all, honey,” he purred, “I know you can.”

His tip pressed to your ring as he forced you down on the toy. You exclaimed and he pushed until you stretched around the head of his cock. You gritted your teeth and threw your head back against his shoulder. 

He pulled back and pushed in again. He got deeper with each slow thrust, an inch at a time, until you were filled by him and the toy. Your eyes welled and the tears trickled down your cheeks as you held onto the stool and grunted through each tilt of his hips.

He trailed his hand down between your legs and spread your folds as he flicked your clit with his middle finger. He moved you against him and on the toy. He pushed into as the dildo reached its limit and your voice grew louder and louder. 

Through the agony, you couldn’t help but feel the unyielding tingle in your core and it crawled down your thighs and up your spine. The stool rocked with his motion but he kept you flush to him as he fucked you from behind. Your legs slipped over the side of the seat and you were impaled on the toy.

He didn’t let up as you gasped and gulped, whining as your cunt twitched around the silicone and you came as you reached back to scratch at his open jeans. He rutted into you without relent as he kneaded your thighs and his breath seared down your flesh.

“Ah, honey,” he muttered through his delighted groans, “goddamn, god-- shit, I’m gonna fill you up.”

He slammed into you as deep as he could and you felt him burst. He gave several long thrusts as rode out his orgasm and groaned. When he stilled he leaned against you and sighed.

“You can have the phone back,” he rasped as he caressed your thigh, “tomorrow.”

[cinnamonrusts]

first date with the sparda boys --

Your first date with Dante/Vergil   -- f!reader + mentions of alcohol + lots of fluff

DANTE-

“Devil May Cry?” your voice is chipper and tone polite, “No, Dante isn’t here at the moment. Can I take a message?” an older woman sounds off her concerns and the need for immediate attention from the legendary devil hunter himself, “I’ll be sure to pass that message on once he gets in!” the call ends and you slam the phone’s receiver down with a hard thud.

You add another tally to a long list of marks on the back of a pizza order receipt. Curses escape your lips as you continued to be annoyed by the barrage of calls. Soon, you start to mock Dante’s voice and the words he left you with, “Just gotta run a quick errand, I’ll be back in a jiff!” your head bobs side to side as you stick out your tongue whilst imitating the man.

“I’ll be back in a jiff! -- yeah fucking right...,” you jot down the woman’s name beside her tally, “..idiot.” A voice startles you, “Hope you’re not talking about me!” it was Dante. He closed the door to his building behind him as he sauntered in, smile on his lips. “Dante!,” you push yourself back from his desk and wave the wrinkled receipt in the air, “If you’re going to lie about how long you’re going to be gone. Hire a fucking receptionist, because I am not one!” 

As you approach him, he lends out his hand and snatches the paper from your fingers. His opaque like eyes examine the list that you made out for him, “Wowzah. That’s a lotta people.” his opposite hand strokes his scruff, “We can worry about this tomorrow,” he crumples the paper and stuffs it into his front coat pocket. “Why don’t we go out for some fun? Since my trip lasted -- a little longer than expected.” his lips spread to that shit eating grin he always sports and you can’t fight back your trembling lips that turn from a frown into a smile. Why does he have to be so charming?

“Fine -- but you’re buying!” your eyes squint and your index finger is pointed at his nose. As you turn to grab your things from upstairs, Dante yells out, “With what money!?” you stop on the third step and face him, “Guess that’s for you to find out.”

With nightfall in the air, the wind turned cold and you dressed accordingly. Wrapped in a maroon pea coat and a black beanie to protect your head, you walked down the stairs to see Dante waiting in the same spot. His eyes locked onto you as you jogged down the stairs, he watched every movement you made and how focused you looked on each step. You shove your hands in your pocket as you approach him, he’s still staring. “What?” you ask with a shrug, a slight warmth rises in your cheeks. His lashes blink several times before his brain processes your question, “Nothing,” he answers. The man towers over you in height greatly and he places his strong palm on top of your hat, then proceeds to give you a hearty noogie. “Aw, look who looks all cute all bundled up!” he jokes.

You smack him away with the back of your hand with an angry look, “It’s like 20 something degrees outside! I’m not half demon like you, asshole. I don’t generate heat like a furnace,” you snap. Dante proceeds to fix the pom-pom on the top of your hat, “Sorry to pinch a nerve, short stuff.” you jab him in the chest with a closed fist and a poorly hidden smirk, he laughs it off and opens the door for you.

The bar isn’t too far down the road from Devil May Cry. On occasions you would go with Lady, Nico, and Trish for girl’s night out there. The building was pretty incognito and fit well for the neighborhood it was in. Just above the entrance was a crooked wooden sign that simply read, “The Raven”. Dante held the crudely painted door open for you and you ducked under his arm that held it open. Immediately you were struck in the face with the strong smell of tobacco and cheap liquor.

Your male companion took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled loudly through his mouth, “Can’t get over that stench. Smells just like home,” his eyes gaze across the rugged crowd that frequented the joint. Some of them wave at the devil hunter while others hide their faces in their glasses. Dante placed his hand on your shoulder and led you to the bar, the two of you sat on two stools that felt like they could give way at any moment.

Dante greeted the bar tender, “Raymundo. Two gin and tonics, up.” The man behind the bar gave the Sparda a wink before going to work on the order. “You gonna pay me this time, Dante?” Raymundo asked once finished, he slid the two glasses in your directions. Dante caught his and took a gulp of the drink before answering, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all I got.” he leaned over on one side as he dug into his back pocket to fish out his wallet. He opened up the dark leather bifold and stared into it with a depressed look, “All I got is a $20.” Dante pulled out the crisp green bill and reluctantly forfeited it to Raymundo. “No, Dante. Let me,” you attempt to dig into your coat pocket but Dante’s hand is immediately on your wrist with a tight grip. “No. I promised to take you out.”

Raymundo smiled as he took the money, “Aye, Dante. Out on a date, hmm?” “Yes.” Dante answers, “No.” you add,  both answers in unison. The bartender let out a hearty laugh, “I think I’ll trust the lady on this one. Rest is on me, Dante.” Raymundo patted the bar a few times with his palm before leaving the two to yourselves.

Dante turned toward you with a smug look, “So, this isn’t a date?” You scoff as you take a sip of your drink, “No. More of a payment for my duties, since you never pay me anyway.” He chuckled, “So, killing demons for pleasure doesn’t cut it enough, huh?” Dante took a drink, “Well, we’ll see if you change your mind by the end of the night.”

A Few Too Many Drinks Later --

A snort escapes your mouth as you throw your head back in a obnoxious laugh. Dante laughs just as loudly. The two of you remanence of old times in the earlier days of demon killing, when you were just a newbie in the crew. “You -- you literally were knocked on your ass trying to fire that shotgun!” Dante nearly had tears in his eyes as he went through the memory step by step.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have given me a shotgun meant for a giant!” you leaned into him as you started to feel your face warm up. Both of your giggling died down to a silence as you snuggled your head into the bend of Dante’s arm. He could smell his own breath that stunk of alcohol as he looked down with his opaque eyes to see your content face that was pushed up to him.

Dante could feel the call of his instincts; his fingers ached to run through your [h/c] strands that peeked out from under your hat. His palms cried to feel the natural warmth of your skin on his rugged hands. How would you react though? Would you get angry? Or would you allow him?

The Sparda gave in to his desires and took a piece of your hair around his finger, then lightly twirled it around his digit. This caused you to stir from your spot, your [e/c] orbs flickered up to him with a glassy look. “Hmm, that feels nice,” you smile softly. Dante smiles in return, his pounding heart was now slowing as you reacted better than he thought. “Hey, let’s go home.” he offers and you comply, pushing off of his body and taking a slight wobbly step. Dante comes to your aid, one hand wrapped over yours and the other at your waist. “I’m good,” you insist and the two of you leave the bar.

When the two of you reach the front door of Devil May Cry, the only light on the street is from the pink neon sign above the entrance and the small street lamp beside. Dante attempts to lead you up the concrete step but you stop him with a tug of the arm. He turns around to ask what’s wrong but sees you looking up into the sky with wonder. White specks fall from the darkness above and drift slowly in the breeze, the light reflecting off the flakes. You put out your palm to catch the snow and observe as it melts quickly in reaction to your heat. 

“Snow?” Dante asks as he too sticks out his palm. The small specks soon turn into bigger pieces that stick to yours and Dante’s hair/clothing. He takes a step down from the step to approach you and chuckles once he notices the flakes are sticking to your lashes. “You’re a snow angel,” the Sparda smiles. “Does that make you a snow demon?” you ask and Dante ponders for a moment before nodding quickly. A giggle comes from your throat and you watch as snowflakes drift into his scruff. “You got something there,” you say as you push yourself up onto your toes. Instead of brushing it off, you place a small kiss on his lips.

Dante is both speechless and motionless. He did not expect you to kiss him. Like, this was literally the last thing he would ever expect. Was this a dream? Were you going to vanish in a puff of smoke once he woke up. The man blinked several times to see that you were still there before him. His hands quickly found their way to your biceps and held them tightly, now it was his turn to kiss you. Dante kissed you like he always wanted to and his heart was pounding harder than it was at the bar. When he pulled away he asked, “You’re okay with this, right?” he wanted to ensure you were of sound mind. You smiled, “I’m not really that drunk,” one more kiss, “are you?” Dante shook his head, “I got a hell of a tolerance, short stuff.”

Your brow raised, “Was that a pun?” Dante laughed, “Maybe. Was this a date?”

You bit your lower lip as you looked in the distance in thought, “I think it was.”

VERGIL-

Ever since Vergil moved in with the devil hunter crew, he was reluctant to socialize much. Dante would often beg for his brother to do -- brotherly things with him besides hunting or training. The elder Sparda brother would brush his twin off with a huff through his nostrils and continue burying his face in his books.

Vergil peeked your interests as his mysterious nature reflected the one of your own. Despite feeling as if the others were like family, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were an outsider looking in. You felt as if Vergil felt the same way and just wanted someone to pry at his ironclad bindings. But every time you tried, you felt an overwhelming sensation of nervousness and backed out like a schoolgirl.

But tonight would be different --

Everyone was gone for the night and the only people left in the building was Vergil and yourself. He was shut up in his room and you were downstairs, bored. So, so, bored. You sat at Dante’s desk with your feet up on the mahogany, he would freak if he knew your dirty boots were on his desk. Only he could do that! Metal music screeched through the speakers of the lower level and you tossed a rubber band ball in the air several times as you suffered through the only track.

When the ball dropped from the air, you missed the catch and it bounced off your fingers, then slammed hard into the main speaker, hitting the power button. The music abruptly cut and you could hear the floorboards creaking from above. Your eyes flickered to the ceiling and remembered that Vergil was home too. You quietly made your way up the stairs and down the stretch of hall to his door. Your hand extended to knock but you hesitated, what if he didn’t want to be bothered? He seemed to be unfazed by your presence whenever you interacted. Vergil never seemed happy nor angry to see you, his face was often void of much emotion and was hard to read.

You bit your tongue as your knuckles drummed across the door lightly, then you took a step back to give him room to answer. There was no sound from within, so, you tried again. Still no noise and no answer, you assumed that either a: he left or b: he didn’t want to be bothered.

You turned to leave,

“Come in,” his cool voice calls from behind the door. The heartbeat in your chest quickened in pace as you slowly approached the knob, you sort of wished he had just ignored you; but you decided it was too late to back out and took hold of the knob to turn it. You pushed the door open just enough for you body to slide through and stopped at the threshold. Vergil was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back facing you, his head was bowed as he most likely was buried in his literature. “[Y/N],” he spoke. 

“How’d you know it was me?” you asked, a bit nervous. He didn’t move, “Everyone else left. Who else would it be?.” Duh, idiot! “Heh, that’s right,” you paused with awkward silence, “Well, I’ll just leave you to --,” you turned to leave but Vergil spoke up. “No. Stay,” you stopped and slowly turned on your heels to see that he now was facing you.

His strong features looked as if they had been carved by heavenly beings. His skin was dry yet looked like porcelain. His Caucasian tone seemed like it was glowing in the natural light that peeked through his single window and his dark circles gave him character. Half demons truly were beautiful. Would it be a sin to indulge in their devilish delicacy?

You accepted his invitation to remain and decided to politely observe his room. It was empty for the most part besides his bed, a dresser, and an old shelf that was filled with different books; the antique caught your attention and you approached it. Some books looked new with fresh covers while others looked as if they could crumble at the slightest touch. Vergil’s eyes watched you steadily as you eyed his collection. You raised your right hand and gently stroked the spine of a worn, red leather book decorated in gold trimmings. “Do you enjoy reading?” the man asked.

“I do,” you answered with a smile, your eyes remaining on the interesting red book. “I can tell you do as well. From day one, actually,” your head turned to look at him, “You always got your face buried in some sort of book.” Vergil hummed in agreement, closed his book, placed it on the bed and stood to join you at his bookcase. “I see you’re interested in this one,” his strong forearm stretched past your face and his fingers wrapped around the book to pull it out.

“A collection of morbid poems,” he licked his right index finger as he flipped the book open with his left hand. “I acquired this book was a young boy, I think it was fitting for the time.” His blue eyes scanned the yellowing papers as he looked for the poem that fancied him, you studied his features again as his orbs darted across the pages.

“Ah, maybe you’ve heard this one,” he cleared his throat, “Ladies and gentlemen, skinny and stout, I’ll tell you a tale I know nothing about;” his tone was rich during his narrative. “The admission is free, so pay at the door. Now pull up a chair and sit on the floor.” Vergil paused for a moment and motioned for you to join him on the corner of his bed, you followed and he sat close to you, your knees just barely touching.

Opening the book back up, he continued,

“One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight; back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other. A blind man came to watch fair play, a mute man came to shout, ‘hooray!’“ his eyes occasionally flickered to the side as he read to see if you were enjoying what he was reciting, almost smiling when he could tell you were.

“A deaf policeman heard the noise and came to stop those two dead boys...,” he stopped at the middle of the poem as the rest of the page seemed to have been torn out. Your fingers  instinctively reached to touch the part of the page that was missing but Vergil lightly took your hand to move it out of the way as he closed the cover.

“How does it end?” you asked but Vergil shrugged, “I’m not sure. I was never able to find another copy of this book to figure it out.” An idea dawned on you and your hand rested on his hand that was at his side. “Say, why don’t we check the library here? There’s books that look older than most of yours, I’m sure there’s a copy there!” you smiled and Vergil looked at you with the softest expression you’ve yet to see. He could feel this twinge in his stomach. It felt warm and kind of fuzzy. Why was he feeling this? He wasn’t sure if he remembered it or liked what it felt like but he knew that you were the origin. He agreed to your proposition.

Vergil watched patiently as you wrapped yourself in a puffy grey coat and blue scarf. You stopped mid scarf wrapping to ask, “Is that all you’re wearing?” Vergil was wearing his coat which seemed to mostly for fashion and not functionality. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” his brow scrunched. “Nothing. It’s just -- winter -- outside.” The Sparda smiled. He. Smiled.

It was as if a train smacked right into you because not only did he smile but you made him smile.

He took note of your struggle with the scarf and took it into his hands. “I think I will be okay,” he said as he properly tucked your scarf. “Blue is a good color for you,” he added. The entire time you could feel your face turning several shades of pink, and you prayed the half demon didn’t notice.

As the two of you walked across town, the wind blew harshly and you struggled to continue on without complaining. “We should’ve got a taxi,” you cursed as you hugged yourself tighter. Vergil on the other hand seemed unfazed, despite the fact that his breath was visibly wafting in the air above him. “Taxis are a waste of money. Traveling on foot is faster,” he was several feet in front of you; Vergil noted your struggle and decided to stop. “Here,” he wrapped his arm around you with his coat draped over your frame and pulled you close to his side. “Better?” the Sparda asked. His body felt like a radiator, warmth oozed from him and you could barely notice the freezing temperatures anymore. “You half demons sure are warm,” you noted and he hummed.

The library was nearly empty when the two of you entered which gave you free roam of the massive building. You led Vergil to the top middle floor and all the way into the back where all the poem books were kept. He felt like a child in a candy store, the library had a collection of what seemed like hundreds of books and each section seemed to stretch for miles.

“If they have it, it’ll be here,” you noted. Both of you paced the bookcases in search of the copy but to no avail. You let out a frustrated breath as you were ready to accept defeat. “Don’t be upset, [Y/N]…,” Vergil spoke up, “I -- enjoyed this time with you.”

He was leaned against one of the cases with his arms crossed, his eyes lingering on you and a ghost of a smile on his lips. You approached him slowly.

Now face to face with the half demon, a few inches separated the two of you from touching. Vergil closed his eyes impulsively but when nothing happened, his eyes opened quickly. You weren’t trying to kiss him or anything -- but instead, you were pulling out an identical red book to the one that he had in his bedroom.

You opened the book in search of the morbid poem of dead boys when Vergil’s hands slammed it shut abruptly.  It was as if a foreign force hijacked his body because before either of you could think, his lips were on yours. They were not soft by any means and were pushed hard onto yours but there was meaning behind it.

He was quick to pull away as he had a grip on his mind once again. Vergil attempted to push you away and walk out of the library but you stopped him with a yank to his coat. “Where are you going?” you asked. His face was cold and void again, just like you were used to seeing. “Stop hiding behind your tough guy façade, Vergil.” your hand grazed lightly under the line of his jaw once he was close again, “I can see you’re just a man who needs and wants more than they would like to admit.” you lowered your voice to a light whisper, your warm breath against his skin.

“Now,” you gave him a small kiss on his lower lip, “let’s see if this poem is worth finishing.”

[dimmadoome]

Echoes

Edward Nashton/Nina Damfino.

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Chapter 1. The Lounge

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The Iceberg lounge is probably the nastiest and best club in Gotham. I love it and I hate it.

My eyes adjust to the lights as I walk through the crowd. reds and blues and greens flash over the crowd. Its a crush of sweaty bodies pulsing with the music. My boots stick to the floor as I push my way through. Puddles of spilled booze mix with flakes of blacklight paint to create streaks along the concrete. The air is thick. It smells like body spray and sweat.

My hand covers the beer I ordered as I reach the table that my friend Diedre and I are sitting at. She's entertaining some guy, says hes a bigshot but hes probably a fucking cop or something. I don't know that though. He just has the look about him. He's definitely high on something.  That I do know.

"Hey nina, what'd you get me?"

I laugh at her. She flips her long red hair out of her face and smiles. Shes fucking radiant. No wonder that man hasn't left her side in a half an hour. She playfully reaches for my drink. I pull it out of her hand.

"No way Deid, you owe me at least three beers from last week. Get your own."

I scoot her back into the booth and sit down next to her. The beer in my hand catches the lights, throwing red across the table and our faces. Music rings in my ears.

Diedre looks put out, her beautiful face forms a pout. She narrows her eyes at me for a second before brightening.

"I'll just get my own drink then, come on guy, get me a drink"

She pulls the guy out of the booth alongside her. He looks helpless. I laugh at her newest victim and settle back into my Bludhaven IPA. I regret buying it. Its fucking nasty. But hey. $10 is $10.

Diedre settles in by the bar. It looks to be a long line so I don't wait for her. I scan the crowd for someone I know. Not a lot of people I call friends here tonight. Thats ok. Im not here for a wild night. Not like Diedre.

I'm about to give up and wait for Diedre to come back when I spot a man at a table across the way. This man has been here in that same spot every time ive been here for the last month. He is dressed like he just came out of a DnD session. Khakis and a blue windbreaker. Huh.

The lights flash over his glasses, red, blue, green. It reflects off of his hair and the drink he is nursing. Maybe I should talk to him. Shit, its better than sitting here by MY lonesome. Two people lonely together is better than one by themselves.

He looks up as I approach him. His glasses are thick, and clear. I recognize Gotham clinics finest cheap ass glasses. Now that I'm closer I get a good look at him. His hair is a dirty blonde. His face soft. He is actually a lot bigger than I thought he would be. For some reason his demeanor makes him look small.

"Hey" I call. He says something but I can't hear him. The music is loud. The people louder.

I lean in closer, "is this seat taken?" I tap the high gloss of the table. Purple reflects off of it and highlights his drink. A tequila sunrise. The ice has melted by now. It looks watery and mixed. He definitely isn't much of a drinker by the looks of him.

He nods his head no, the seat wasnt taken. I guess that means I can sit. I take it as a yes and slide into the booth. The plastic sqeaks against my leather jacket. What a nasty sound. I hope im the only one that can hear it over the techno music.

"Hey. What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

He blinks at me a bit owlishly.  I lean in and smile at him. Setting my nasty beer down and sliding it away from us. I've decided that $10 isn't worth that sludge.

" I don't know" he finally responds. Shrugging his shoulders and slumping back in his drink. It may be the shit booze talking but I smile a bit harder than his answer warrants.

" Do you want some company? My friend and I are here to have fun with friends but no one else showed up. You can come chat with us. I promise I won't bite....unless you want me too"

He turns red but nods. Looking at my face quickly and turning his eyes back into his drink. God this guy is awkward. Maybe I need to break the ice.

"So..you wanna hear a dumb joke?"

He looks at me and smiles a bit. Then says something again. It was too quiet for me to hear. It sounds like a yes. Good enough for me.

"Did you hear about the guy who got his left arm and left leg cut off?"

He snorts a bit. As if to laugh already. "No, what about him" he looks at my eyes and smiles. His are green. The club lights flash off his glasses again. This time in purple.

" He's all right now" i fake a hearty laugh and lightly nudge him. He tilts his head. Looks like he doesn't know whether or not to laugh or cry. Then he starts chuckling. Low and soft. I smile at him. This time its very genuine.

We sit and talk for a while. Its probably been an hour. I couldn't tell really. The music is neverending and he actually makes a great conversationalist. We end up talking about music. He seems to like classical. I'm not as uninterested as I would think. He seems to love what he's talking about. I listen intently. Not knowing what he is talking about but happy to hear people so passionate about something. I start chatting about star trek and he perks up. I knew it. Hes a nerd. He says his favorite series is TNG but he prefers Babalon 5 over trek. We get into it for a while before I figure I should find Diedre.

"Hey, now that I got your attention, you see that pretty redhead over at the bar with that guy hanging off of her?"

I point at Diedre and the possicop. She's still playing with him. he's probably bought her a lot of drinks by now. She'll bleed him dry and wake up the next day refreshed. God what a gal.

" Yeah" he responds a bit shy again.

"You wanna come hang out with us?" I ask again. He looks at me and nods.

I stand up and motion for him to follow. He slides out and stands up from the booth. I was right. He is bigger than I thought. He stands a good foot taller than I do.

"Come-on" I say as I head towards Diedre and her victim. I don't look to see if he follows me but I suspect with how tall he is, he can make a path through the crush of bodies pretty easily. A lot easier than I can at least.

Diedre spots us from the bar and motions us over. The bartender is pouring her drink and the lights flash over his theatrics. The ice themed bar glows blue for a second. It smells more boozy over here than it did by the booths. used glasses are stacked all along the bar with varying amounts of alcohol and melted ice. They reflect the lights just the same.

"Hey" she asks "who is this"

She motions to the guy I picked up acros the bar. I look over at him. He looks a bit hunched in again. I realize I never asked for his name. I flush in embarrassment. Oh jeez. Maybe I should rectify my mistake. I turn to him and look up. His hair brushes against his eyebrow as he looks down at me. He really is cute.

"Hey, I'm pretty rude, we've been talking all of this time and I think I forgot to ask you your name"

He leans down to look at me, careful to get close so I can hear over the music.

"Edward Nashton. What's yours? I seem to have forgotten to do the same"

All at once I decide I'm going to ravish this man. I give him my name.

"Nina Damfino"

he smiles and leans back. I turn to give my attention back to Diedre.

"Edward Nashton" I repeat to Diedre. Leaning in so she can hear me.

"He's cute Dieds, I think I'm going to take him home"  I whisper to her

"You better, he looks nerdy, you know nerds have the BIGGEST..." She winks and makes a motion at her crotch.

I narrow my eyes at her. God thats fucking wild. I flash my eyes at Edward. Hes a bit scrunched but otherwise doesn't give off any indication that he heard her. Hope he didn't anyway.

"Hey so Edward, you wanna get out of here and go get some food or something? Its a bit loud and I'm not much of a dancer, or a drinker to be honest."

He tilts his head at me. I think he looks more interested now than he has all night. Probably because he knows where this is headed. I hope this is where its headed. I think I'm down bad.

"Sure, where do you want to go?"

I pause to think for a moment

"Maybe the diner off tenth?"

He nods. I smile internally. This guy is DEFINITELY coming home with me.

I lean back over to Diedre. She's watching us intently. She knows I've got him in the bag.

"Hey, we're going to that diner off tenth and then I'm going to take him home. My location is on. I'll message you when I get where I'm going. "

Sure thing sweetie. Go give him a night he'll never forget"

She turns back to her victim. He looks about down for the count. She doesn't even have a hair out of place. Once again proving her goddess status in the face of mere mortals.

[ihearthes]

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons. 

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once. 

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip. 

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person. 

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state. 

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset. 

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs. 

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks. 

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling. 

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway. 

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move. 

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy. 

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?” 

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth. 

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they? 

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down. 

“On what?” 

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand. 

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.” 

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram? 

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone. 

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up. 

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait? 

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll. 

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth. 

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro. 

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi. 

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun. 

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?” 

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year. 

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server. 

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.” 

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room. 

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles. 

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines. 

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator. 

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere. 

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart. 

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment? 

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them. 

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass. 

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it. 

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it. 

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong. 

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose? 

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces. 

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year. 

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them. 

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles. 

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction. 

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing. 

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking? 

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep? 

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years. 

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out. 

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of. 

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that��s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now. 

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath. 

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments. 

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.” 

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year. 

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted. 

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.” 

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean. 

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage. 

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue. 

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude. 

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously. 

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly. 

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry. 

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating. 

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question. 

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming. 

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either. 

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one? 

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---” 

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it. 

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages. 

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset. 

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her. 

“Do you think that perhaps we could…” 

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently. 

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...” 

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers.  I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here. 

[mzmezzler]

Darling Boy - Jinyoung x Fem!Reader

shortlist: crossdressing, humiliation, sub!Jinyoung, dom!reader, Jinyoung in a maid outfit, role play, degradation, mistress kink, minor food kink (it’s just passing a drink before and during a kiss)minor cock stepping, strap sucking.

word count: 2k

summary: I can’t fake out a summary, this is just late Valentine’s porn with a semblance of plot.

a/n: Let’s give it up to the only fic I wrote in its entirety not at work! No,but why tf did this take so long. I was at it all day writing and rewriting and i barely like it.... Anyway @foenixs really helped me pick some integral parts of this fic, hope you like it!

Any and all feedback is appreciated :)

Turning to you from his side in the bed, Jinyoung looks at you expectantly, “Y/N” Humming in response, you turn your head slightly from where it’s trained to the book in your hands to show you’re listening. “What do you want for Valentine’s day?” He asks. 

Turning a page you sigh, “I’d love to see your perky ass in a skirt maybe.” You pause to settle on the idea. “Yeah, and maybe you could go about being completely oblivious, instead of your usual act cause I need a break having to deal with your-” Jinyoung cuts you off with a scoff. “Sounds like you don’t want me at all, I have to be my authentic self for you.” He replies, finishing his words with a sarcastic drawl. Setting your book down on the nightstand, and shifting your front towards him, you offer him an unamused look. “You know what I mean.” 

Smirking to himself, Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “What if I don’t?” His smugness was just one thing he knew he had over you, it was an integral part of the push and pull of your relationship in and out of bed. It took long enough for you to realize that the relationship between the two of you was even evolving since neither of you noticed the consistent bickering more times than not laced with an odd sense of longing.

However, for once, you’d like something easy. Just the version of Jinyoung that would slide easily into things without a fight, you both knew he could, but in his words “it wasn’t as fun”. 

“What’s the point of asking me what I want then?” You ask. Stumped he pouts to himself, “You know I was just teasing.” 

Still maintaining your blank stare, Jinyoung rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Knowing that’s the sign he was finally done you leaned onto him, snuggling into his die.

 “So do you want to hear what I really want?” 

“Fine”

By the night of Valentine’s the scene was set.

Lounging on the sofa of your living room in a robe, you enjoy a glass of wine and a novel while snuggled in your favorite cover. Sipping from your glass, the drink swirls in the amber glow of the low lights. Settling around the basen, and reflecting the glow of nearby candles. The living room seemed to be ripped out of a Hallmark movie, if it weren’t for the insistent sound of wet bristles scrubbing against the kitchen tile.

Swinging an arm around the back of the sofa and craning your neck towards the sound, you see a bundle of white tulle bobbing with every stroke. At the center of the mess of fabric was Jinyoung's bum wiggling in his haste. It was a glorious sight, drinking in the man in his costume, working like your little maid. Faced away from you, you drink in the sight of his skirt and the white panties stretched across his ass. Lined with white and black fabrics down to the garters holding up his stockings, you can only take another long sip of your wine. 

You hear small grunts and a sigh as Jinyoung sits back on his knees. Suddenly turning towards you with a small smile, he wipes the sweat from his brow. With the full outfit on display, you take notice of how the dress hugs his waist and is subtly cinched by the ties of the apron that lies along his front. There’s a knowing glint in his eyes, but still, he kneels across the room from you to be ogled under your hungry gaze. Squirming in his place he stutters “Mistress, I’ve finished cleaning”

 “Come here darling” You reply, motioning towards the spot in front of the sofa. 

Getting onto his hands and knees, Jinyoung never breaks the heated stare between the two of you as he crawls across the floor. You could now see the pink flush painting his face, an adorable touch to the obscene picture the man put on. Untying your robe, you reveal a lingerie set of your own. Almost contrasting the frills of Jinyoung's costume you opted for a crisp red, matching the strap nestled tight onto your groin. Jinyoung's pace falters at your unveiling, seemingly taking you in as you did before.

Now kneeling between your legs, you caress Jinyoung’s face and smile as his eyes flutter shut at the affection. Moving your hand to tilt his chin up you press your thumb into the man’s mouth. Jinyoung drops his mouth open at your intrusion, licking at the finger. Swirling your thumb over his tongue, you both stare at each other with heavy eyes. 

Removing the finger from the man’s mouth,  a trail of spit follows. Jinyoung whines out at the emptiness, and before he could pout for more you slip your foot underneath his skirt. The hitch in his breath quickly becomes a deep groan as you press the ball of your foot onto his half hard bulge. Snickering at his reaction you grip his chin and dig your heel in harder, “You know what I won’t take any brattiness today. You’re supposed to be my darling boy for once.” You take a long drag from the wine glass and set it down on the coffee table. 

Swallowing most of what's in your mouth you tip back Jinyoung's head, "And you're supposed to obey and take what I give." Ghosting your mouth over his, you trace his lips with yours before opening your mouth to drip wine into the Jinyoung’s mouth. Gasping at the sudden flow of the drink into his mouth, Jinyoung gulps the wine heavily. With a hand on his chin, and the other running over his styled hair.

As the flow stops, you both pant into each other’s mouths before meeting in a wet kiss.

The facade almost fades as the kiss turns suffocating, gripping Jinyoung’s hair and pulling away a string of spit still binds you too together. 

With a dazed look on his face, Jinyoung looks up at you with slightly parted lips, whether they were reddened more by the wine or your assault didn’t matter. Cooing at the sight, you loosen your grip, only to clench your fist in his hair making him groan out. “Are we going to be good then love” Blinking the moisture from his eyes Jinyoung nods, “Yes mistress, I’ll be good.”

You widen your legs and move to fully take off your robe, "Then make yourself useful."  

Jinyoung parts his mouth and lays his tongue flat against your inner thigh, tracing up to your groin he goes nose around the base of the strap. Opening his mouth to lick at the head he opts to put on a show for you, knowing that you can’t feel his motions. 

“You always looked so pretty while sucking my cock” You were smirking, head tilted while the man writhed under his maid outfit. You could see it in the way his thighs clench and twitch while he moves to wrap his lips around the tip. “You look like a doll, pretty lips, wide eyes, and all” Running a hand through his hair you grip at the strands and push the man further down your shaft, successfully making him gag. Moving him to slowly fuck his mouth, Jinyoung moans at the intrusion. The vibrations shake your skin while Jinyoung drinks in the burn now nestled in his throat.

“It feels good to be used like a whore doesn’t it?” You smirk.

Popping off of your member with a gasp Jinyoung looks up at you with wide eyes , “More Mistress...please" Narrowing your eyes, you chuckle at his desperation, “I need to prep you love” 

Jinyoung wipes the spit from his chin and pipes up again,  “I-i did that myself, Mistress." The needy look in his wide eyes is enrapturing as he stutters out his reply, " I did it in the shower before I got ready, thinking about you." 

Imagining Jinyoung under the steaming water of a shower working his fingers into himself, panting out to deaf ears is enough to make you freeze and stare at him with a heavy gaze. He's half defiled in his dress with garters askew and his apron slightly wrinkled with a few drops of wine staining the previously pristine white. You can see his bugle warping the fabric with every heavy breath, it's obscene.

"You don't know what you do to me." You say. Moving onto the floor, you press your lips against Jinyoung's while pushing him onto the ground. Sliding on top of him you cage your arms around his face and look down the man. 

Lying flat against the floor, Jinyoung’s hair is completely undone and spread out in wild tufts.

“You’re so beautiful like this Jinyoung, spread out for me and hard under your panties like my little whore.” You pause to move your hand under his skirt to prove your point. He was hard and leaking through the lace, gripping onto his erection you smile softly at the hard jerk he gives at your touch. 

Leaning down to bite at his ear you chuckle, “Do you want me to make it hurt baby?” 

Jinyoung nods slowly.

Pulling at the lace panties you unfasten the garters and slip the fabric down to the man’s thighs, “Can you hold your legs up for me baby.” 

Wrapping his arms around his thighs, Jinyoung’s legs hang above him as you toy with his wet hole. Plunging in one of your fingers, it slides in with no resistance and only results in a whine from the man below you. 

Giving a sharp spank to the side of his ass, “Don’t get cute now. I’ll leave you right here leaking all over the carpet so you can clean it up after you finish rutting against my leg.”

“I’m sorry mistress” Jinyoung moaned out.

 “I don’t have to fuck you, but this is for me.” You press. 

Lining up your cock with Jinyoung’s entrance, you slap your strap against his hole.

Pushing into the man, you groan at how easy the slide was as you bottom out in him. Wrapping your arms around Jinyoung’s legs you start to thrust into him slowly, building up a grueling pace that would punch out the filthiest moans from your lover. 

Pulling the panties past his knees you part the man’s legs to wrap them around your waist. You change the angle of your thrusts, groaning at the twisted look on his face, “How does it feel Jinyoungie, to be used like my darling whore on the floor of our living room, does it get you off knowing this is how you really are?”

Deepening your thrusts, you move a hand between you to fist Jinyoung’s own dick. He hisses at the sudden attention, crying out as you start to pump his cock in time with your thrusts. 

Jinyoung is a mess under you, drool once again running down his chin while faint whimpers are punched out of him. His eyes are heavy with tears as he holds his skirt up for you.

Suddenly squeezing his eyes shut he stills and cums with a shout, spilling onto the frills of his skirt. 

Sitting back against the sofa, you let your head rest on the edge as you catch your breath. “Thank you for this love.” You pant. Looking over at Jinyoung, he seems to be in the same state having shifted to lie his whole body flat on the floor. Running a hand through his sweaty hair he chuckles, “Happy Valentines Y/N”

[korissideblog]

soooo alot of people really liked my Takao Talking ideas, so i decided to make a fake little fan transcript <3

this is really really short, but it's my first time really going into philosophy without a prompt, so maybe I'll get better as time goes on <3

{hiya!!! I’m @spaceACE✩! (=^-ω-^=)~ }

{I luv luv luv Takao Talking!!! And while Taka has CCs on his videos, I just thought it would be fun to do a transcript for some of my fav videos!!! (=´∇｀=)~ }

{soooo here it is!!! ฅ/ᐠ ‧̫‧ ᐟ\ฅ please like, comment, and enjoy!!!!

(๑✪ᆺ✪๑)~ }

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

aki put my camera up really high and now i have to turn it on and off with a broom handle. let’s talk about optimism in the bad times.

[Takao looks directly up at the camera, the camera being at a very very high angle. Takao is a fit, tallish person with lightly tanned skin, curly brown hair, and shiny yellow eyes. He has two sets of horns, one set that holds closely to his skull and goes up at the very end, and another set that does straight out, again going up at the very end. She is wearing a simple black choker, an oversized white t-shirt that says “Of Course I Cum Fast; I Have Fish To Catch!” With an outline of a bass jumping out of a body of water on it, and black biker shorts, as well as black slides. He is holding a broom in his right hand.]

Takao: Ah, alright. I think it’s on now.

Takao: so! I was supposed to be posting a video that had my buddy Aki in it, but apparently someone was “being a nuisance” and someone else would “rather look at me than a camera lens” or whatever.

Takao: he was just being pissy and he put my camera up really high. And hey, that was cool when we were hanging out, sure. We made lunch together and ate it. It was a fun time all around. Problems arise when he leaves my place, and “forgets” to give me my camera back. I have to turn it on and off with this. [Takao swings the broom around a bit]

Takao: So if this video goes out, it means I’ve either grown a few inches, or I’ve invested in a step ladder. Both of these events are equally possible.

Takao: And if this video doesn’t go out, then you know what happened. Except that you don’t know, because this video obviously won’t be out. You guys are smart. Out of all my friends, I’m sure you could guess which one would fuck up my recordings.

Takao: anywho! Since I'm here, forced to keep my chin up, let’s talk about optimism in the bad times.

[Takao drags a settee into frame with a great amount of struggle. Cut to him carrying a small end table over and putting it next to the settee. Cut to him placing a plate of sliced apples on the table, as well as a glass of (sparkling?) water]

Takao: [lounging across the settee] it was Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz who believed that we live in the best of all possible worlds. He based most of his ideas off of the assumed existence of capital ‘g’ God, so that isn’t exactly the most popular idea about optimism that’s currently going around, but it’s what I'm gonna use for today’s video.

Takao: If we live in the best of all possible worlds, how can one explain the mass suffering that we face? One could possibly say that without knowing suffering we wouldn’t know joy, I personally agree with that, but one could also say that suffering is a consequence of the joy that we have. If there is no joy without suffering, then there is no suffering without joy.

Takao: I’ve personally gone through suffering, in many parts of my life, but I’ve also experienced joy. And given the ability to start it all over again, i think i would still suffer unnecessarily in order to be joyful unnecessarily.

Takao: But optimism in the bad times is different. It’s going through suffering and somehow finding something to appreciate, it’s, cutting your finger with a knife, but being alright with it because you can wear your buddy’s merch now. [Takao holds up his hand, and on it is a bandage. It’s a bit blurry, but it looks similar to merchandise that is currently out for pro hero Smokestack]

Takao: it’s not finding joy in suffering, that’s masochism, it’s joy in spite of suffering.

Takao: But I'm sure all of us know how hard it can be to find joy while suffering, so we kinda can skip over that part sometimes. I didn’t find joy in the fact that I could see my reflection in the knife that cut me, but I did find joy in the healing aspect. My suffering was mostly over by the time I got the bandage, but I still put it on because I needed something good to come out of the experience. I was working on healing myself, and that’s where I found joy. [Takao takes one of the apple slices and eats it. She lifts the glass of water, but pauses before he drinks it]

Takao: and hey, I wouldn’t have had the same joy if this bandage wasn’t my buddy’s merch. Maybe I wouldn’t have even put it on! Maybe there’s a timeline where I never met Jetsam, but I still got the same cut, and it got infected and I lost my finger. [Takao takes a sip of the water, and puts it back down] Obviously this is an exaggerated example, but you get my point. There’s a timeline where I didn’t make the friends I have today, and I suffered more because of it.

Takao: It’s hard being your own therapist. [Jiji, an old black cat, walks into frame] That’s why your therapist exists. Humans are social creatures, and will always suffer from loneliness. [Jiji paces in front of the settee till Takao picks him up and puts him on her lap] no matter how uncomfortable it can make us, we need other people. Other people may not be able to stop our suffering, but they can help us get through it, and help us heal afterwards.

Takao: [looking into the lens of the camera] I originally made this channel when I was… you know I was kinda messed up

Takao: Real sick in the head.

Takao: But you know what?

Takao: Van Gogh painted the Starry Night while in drug rehab

Takao: So maybe I’m onto something here

Takao: Maybe good things don’t come from bad things,

Takao: …

Takao; Maybe good things come from healing after bad things.

[The frame fades to black]

[A quick cut back to Takao as he holds the broom, trying and failing to reach the camera without standing up from his settee]

[A quick and startling cut to Takao’s feet as she quickly walks to another room]

[Takao is now wearing different shoes, black boots, and is closing her front door. The dull click of her boots is heard softly]

[Cut to more walking, this time down a sidewalk. The click of his boots more pronounced now]

[Takao’s feet sway side to side as he sits on a subway]

[Takao records a woman in a tight pink dress. The woman is attractive, tall and blonde, but the camera is focused on her bag, large and a matching shade of pink. Out of the bag pops out a tan chihuahua with a pink spiked collar. The subway speaker talks indistinctly]

[More walking down a sidewalk, but at a quickened pace]

[Takao points the camera at a mirror in an elevator, his head is not shown, posing cutely with her leg up and a peace sign]

[More walking down a hallway as Takao finds a door]

[Takao flips through a strangely large ring of keys. Once he finds one with ‘BC’ crudely carved into it, she sticks it into the lock and turns it]

[He opens the door and walks into a living room. A man sitting on a couch looks up. This man is Aki Hiroharu. Hiroharu seems to be watching the news while eating something out of a bowl. Hiroharu looks shocked to see Takao, and may be about to speak, but immediately stops as he goes to cover his face with his arm]

[The camera shakes as Takao throws a step ladder at Hiroharu]

Takao: BITCH ASS-

[There’s a short few shots of the two fighting, clearly playfully, but neither seem willing to lose]

[Someone puts the camera down gently, walking back to the couch and resting their legs onto the open stepladder. The person is a fusion of Haruhiro and Takao, commonly known as Akito by fans. Akito continues to eat as they watch the news.]

[End]

[mxndoscyarika]

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Deleted Scene: Sweet

Honeydew Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Scene Summary: Erin and Marcus have a little fun. (Deleted from Chapter 5)

Warnings: feelings, smut (literally 90% of this is smut I’m sorry 😂)

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: Special thanks go to @bitchin-beskar for being my thot twin and always supporting the story!!! This scene (and Honeydew as a whole) was borne out of our late night conversations 🥺 She even has her own Marcus Moreno story, called “Honey and Clementines”, which is sooooo cute and precious! You can read her first chapter here. And if you haven’t yet, please go read chapter 5, since this is a continuation of it! Enjoy!

“We’re together, now.”

“Yes,” he murmured, kissing her deeply. A shiver ran down his spine as she whimpered into his mouth. “We are.”

They broke apart for air, their foreheads touching. Erin wove her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It took everything in him to not melt into a puddle, savoring her touch.

Unable to help herself, she tightened her legs around his waist and pulled him close until her skirt bunched up at the top of her thighs. Her hands trailed down his chest as she kissed him softly. “Do you want to stay?”

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, sweetie,” he murmured, keeping her still by gripping her hips. “But I don’t think I can give you what you want, baby. Not tonight.”

She looked up at him with sparkling brown eyes, brows furrowed just slightly. The confident air around her seemed to fade a little, much to his dismay. He knew she wouldn’t force him, that she would understand. He just didn’t want her to think he didn’t want her.

With a small smile, he explained, “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But I want you to know that I do want you, honey. More than you might think.” His pants were tight as he pressed closer to her, his bulge nestled perfectly between her legs. Part of him begged for relief, for the tight heat of her pussy. The other part, however, wanted to make it special for her; not just a quick post-date event. He cupped her cheek gently. “But tonight? I just want to hold you, get to know you more. We have all the time in the world.”

“Okay,” she responded, biting her lip to hide her smile. “I guess that will just make it even more special, then.”

Grinning, he kissed her forehead. “Yes, yes it will. Until then…?” Letting out a soft laugh, Erin asked, “You want to watch a movie?”

“Will I get to hold you?”

She hummed in affirmation. “Of course, babe. Let me just change into some other clothes.”

Marcus had made himself comfortable on her couch by the time she returned in some sweatpants and an old t-shirt, glasses perched on her nose in lieu of her contacts. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in obsidian waves, catching the faint light coming from the kitchen area. “Hey,” she said softly.

He looked up at her, smiling as he took in her cozy attire. “Hi, honey.”

They both let out a content sigh as she settled into his arms, her back pressed against his chest. His arm came around her waist, his hand resting on her belly. She had to suppress a moan as his thumb stroked her slowly, his other hand occupied with flipping through the movies on Netflix.

The thin fabric of her t-shirt didn’t provide much warmth, and the more she thought about his touch, the more her nipples poked against the shirt. They hadn’t even made it ten minutes into the movie yet, and her body was begging for more.

She smiled as his other arm slid under her so that he could hug her to his chest. When his thumb brushed the underside of her breast, she drew a sharp intake of breath and squeezed her legs together tightly.

As she was changing, she’d caught sight of herself in her full-length mirror, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. It was then that reality set in–Marcus did want her, and he was right outside, waiting for her. For a moment, she’d considered slipping into some of her lacy sets, but stopped herself. No, she wouldn’t put that pressure on him.

No, instead she’d find a way to satisfy herself.

Her folds were slick with arousal as she selected a toy from her drawer. It had been a long time since she’d wanted a man so badly, and each clench of her cunt only made her realize how utterly empty she felt.

A light whimper escaped her lips as she stood in front of the mirror and slid off her soaked panties, trails of arousal dripping down her legs. Moonlight streamed in through the window behind her, lining her reflection in a pale blue light. Her tits shimmered just slightly, round and tight.

Her knees buckled when she slid the cock into her wet pussy, eyes rolling back. It filled her so well, and she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like if it was Marcus. For the time being, her toy would have to do.

Unable to resist, she pumped it into herself a couple times, biting her lip to hold in her cries of pleasure. The shaft shined with her juices even from just a couple thrusts, and there were droplets on her fingers.

Admiring her juices in the mirror, she brought her finger up to her mouth and sucked them clean. The taste of her pussy made her clench around the toy again, making her moan.

The thick dildo sat snug and deep inside her, nudging at her g-spot with each clench of her walls. And despite its girth, it’d slid into her easily, as if her pussy were starved.

Walking from her room to the sofa was a challenge in and of itself, each step reminding her of how filled she was. If the walk were any longer, she would have come.

And now, she was being tortured. Just the short brush of his hand through the fabric was enough to make her clench around the cock, biting back a whimper.

Marcus must’ve noticed her tremble, because he tightened his hold and asked softly, “Are you okay, my love?”

She hummed softly and nodded. The press of him against her backside gave her a surge of confidence. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who was in a mood. Wiggling her ass, she asked, “Are you okay, baby?”

A low chuckle left his lips, his voice vibrating deep in her chest. “Behave, honey,” he cooed. His hand slid just a little lower on her belly, pressing gently. “Watch the movie.”

So she did. But then, the protagonists confessed their love for each other and, in a passionate haze, stripped each other of their clothes.

Erin couldn’t help but imagine herself and Marcus in place of the characters, his hips thrusting hard and deep into her. The cock seated inside her pussy was nice, but she wanted the real thing. She wanted to feel him throbbing inside her, wanted to feel the veins of his cock rub against her most sensitive spots. She wanted to feel him paint her walls, filling her to the rim with his cum. She wanted to feel him.

Her breathing grew shallow as she watched the scene play out, her legs squeezing together subconsciously in time with the thrusts.

She must’ve made a sound because Marcus cooed, “Is my little honeydew alright? What do you need?” His hands started wandering from their places, the palm of his hand grazing over the peak of a hardened nipple.

“Please,” she gasped, arching into his touch. Fire burned in her lower belly as his other hand traced the waistband of her sweatpants, his fingertips just barely dipping underneath.

“Please what?” he asked, placing kisses along her neck. “Use your words, honey.”

The sparks of pleasure as he brushed over her nipples nearly took her breath away. “Please touch me, Marcus.”

He chuckled softly, slipping his hand under her shirt. A shiver ran down her spine as his large hand settled on her right breast, his thick fingers squeezing just slightly. “Like this, honey? You’re so needy….”

“Just for you,” she whimpered, sighing as he traced circles around her nipple. Reaching down to guide his free hand, she begged, “Please, I need more.” Grinding her ass against his bulge, she continued, “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, hm?” he mused, letting her guide his hand down her panties. A low groan left his lips as the pads of his fingers met her slick folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet, and I’m not even going to fuck you tonight, baby.” Nuzzling her neck, he proposed, “I’ll touch you on one condition, honey: you don’t get to cum until I get to fuck you. I want your first orgasm to be when I can have you fully, when I have enough time to make you come over and over and over.”

Erin simply whined and rolled her hips in an effort to feel his fingers again.

“Do we have a deal, honey?”

“Yes,” she said immediately, cheeks flushed with need, “Yes, please.”

“Perfect,” he said. Flexing his fingers, he began rubbing her swollen clit. The wet sounds of her wet pussy filled the air, along with her breathy moans. “That’s it, honey. Take it.”

She gasped when he switched to her other breast, his hand squeezing just a little tighter on the plush flesh. It filled his hand perfectly, warm and soft and succulent. He wished he had more time so that he could worship them, suck on her nipples until her pussy was dripping. Maybe he could make her come with just that. He wished he could taste her juicy cunt, slip her hard clit into his mouth and suck until she filled his mouth with cum. She’d taste so sweet, like a summer peach.

“Marcus,” she whimpered, trembling. “Marcus, please.”

“Please,” she whined, juices flooding out of her.

Marcus smirked. She was close.

“More, please.”

Then, he woke up, panting. As his eyes focused on the ceiling of his bedroom, he realized he was not, in fact, at Erin’s apartment. She wasn’t in his arms, and his hands weren’t shoved underneath her clothes to bring her pleasure.

No, he’d gone home. There was a phone call, and the movie, her tits… It was all a dream.

He didn’t need to look down at himself to know the blanket was tented. The thick length of his cock throbbed as the images of her body and her sweet voice came back to him.

It was a dream, but it would be reality, someday. Maybe someday.

With a sigh, he slipped his hand under his boxers and got to work.

---

Erin woke with a start, chest heaving as she regained her bearings. She was laying on her back, legs spread just slightly. Even though it was all a dream, her pussy clenched around nothing, oozing slick into her sleep shorts.

It’s felt so real, from the cock in her pussy to his warm hands.

She shuddered as she cupped a breast with one hand and slipped the other under her shorts. A soft cry left her lips as she circled her clit, though she wished it were Marcus’s touch making her come undone.

The dream had felt so real, so….sensual. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought it did happen, rather than the abrupt ending to their night.

As the fire in her belly grew, she remembered his words: “you don’t get to cum until I get to fuck you.” Just the thought of him was enough to make herself all the more sensitive, fingers slipping easily through her folds. If only he were there to clean her up.

Gasps filled the air as she approached her orgasm, hips grinding up to meet her fingers. Her pussy fluttered as it gushed more juices, soaking through her shorts.

“Marcus,” she moaned, pinching her nipples. It was too much; she needed to stop before she broke their agreement. “Oh, Marcus.”

A needy cry left her lips as she forced herself to pull away from her pussy. The building ecstasy faded into a dull throbbing need, her pussy clenching repeatedly.

Maybe someday, she thought.

TAGLISTS: (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

PERMANENT:

@cinewhore @randomness501  @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @miraclemoreno @halfwaythereroyal @fioccodineveautunnale @talesfromtheguild @tortles @ladamari68 @theokatcov @snivellusim @starryluce​ @inked-poet​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @shedobewritingalittle​ @chews-erotically​ @thefandomimagines​ @emesispo​ @bitchin-beskar​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @dishonouringmycow​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

HONEYDEW:

@leemorrigan @houseofthirst​ @meshlamando​ @engineeredfiction​ @inkyzinky​ @thedazeinmylife @theoutsidelandhere​ @parkjammys​

[poisongirl18]

Coming of Age

Coming of Age

A/N I have turned to the dark side of fanfiction! NSFW Please Enjoy!

Pairings: DeanX Stripper!Reader

Story Warnings: Thigh-riding, dirty talk, oral sex (male), stripping

Summary: You, Bobby Singer’s daughter, met the Winchester boys at age 8. They always adored you and treated you like the baby sister they always wanted, but you always wanted more from the oldest Winchester brother. Now that you were of age, you thought now was the time to take what you wanted.

  “I don’t understand why you won’t take me with you!” You yelled at the two Winchester brother’s while adjusting the glasses on your face. “You need a female as bait!”

“And that bait isn’t going to be you.” Dean shrugged, turning to face you as you followed them around the living room of your home.

Despite being an adult, Dean and Sam would never take you out on a hunt even with all the years of training under your belt. They saw you as a little sister, one that they could never let get hurt. You thought it was cute at first, but now that you were older it was only annoying. You weren’t the eight-year-old girl that they first met anymore. You were an adult who wanted to be treated like one.

A demon was going to a local strip club and offering a way out for the strippers in exchange for their soul. Dean and Sam were on the case, but they couldn’t quite have what it took to get the demons attention. You on the other hand did.

“Come on Y/N,” Sam sighed, being more gentle with you, “Bobby would kill us if you got on stage.”

“Plus,” Dean added, “We wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the demon, but every guy who would lay their dirty little fingers on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “How are you going to trap the demon without bait?” You questioned, looking in the book that was in your hands, your hair flying in your face slightly. “I was looking into some things and this demon won’t go anywhere near a man.”

“Well, we’re just going to have to take that chance.” Dean shrugged, crossing his arms, the muscles under his plaid shirt flexing.

For years you’ve dreamt of those arms holding you in bed and had many wet dreams of them restraining you when you’ve been bad.

You let out a groan and shut the book firmly. “When are you going to let me hunt?” You questioned with frustration. “I can’t be kept up in dad’s house being used for research!”

“But you’re so good at it.” Dean patronized.

You gritted your teeth and dropped the book on the already cluttered coffee table. “I’m not your little assistant.”

Sam let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We know that Y/N.” He sucked in a breath before his calloused hands went to his hips. “Look, we’ll take you on the next one, okay?”

You withheld a screech and instead decided to be mature about the situation, despite Dean rolling his eyes. “Fine.” You breathed out a calming breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” You let out before turning on your heel heading towards the kitchen.

“I’m glad that’s over.” You heard Dean say as you walked away.

Little did he know that it was the furthest from over.

You stepped out of the taxicab later that night, heading to the back of Bunnies. You adjusted your leather jacket as your heels clicked against the cement, heading towards the dancer’s entrance where a tall muscular guard stood.

“Your new.” He noted, licking his lips as he looked you up and down.

“I am.” You said confidently despite feeling so small under the man’s stare.

“You sure you know where you are little girl?” He questioned with a smirk, his eyes racking down your tight ripped jeans and blue lace bustier top.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, I know exactly where I am.” You shifted in your heeled boots.

“Ten bucks to dance.” He crossed his arms.

You sighed before taking out a ten-dollar bill from the top of your bustier and handed it to him. He stepped aside and opened the door. “Have fun.”

You walked and were immediately met with girls running around getting ready for the show. You brushed past some of them and sat at an open dresser.

You took in the girls around; they were all different. Different body shape, different hair, tan skin, light skin, you name it someone had it, but they had one thing in common.

They were all beautiful.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you slowly began to realize that you may not have what it took to dance. Who knew if the demon would find you attractive enough or even take you as bait?

You started to get nervous, turning in your seat to look back at your reflection in the mirror.

“You new here?” A girl with red-curly hair asked, she stood tall in leather pants and a red bra.

You turned and glanced at her with a smile. “Yeah, first night.” You admitted with an awkward chuckle.

“Well, we’ve all been there.” She nodded before offering a perfectly manicured hand. “Candy.”

As you shook her hand, you thanked the Lord that you at least painted your nails for tonight. “Um . . .” You trailed making her grin wildly.

“You need a name.” She nodded before clapping excitedly. “Let’s see.” She bent forward, her large breasts in your face as she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Let’s call you . . . Arabella.” She smirked before backing up and nodding.

“Arabella?” You questioned. “That’s not very . . .”

“It’s mysterious.” She shrugged. “It just suits you. Now,” She clicked her tongue, “do you have an outfit?”

You glanced down at the outfit you were wearing. “This isn’t . . . I mean-“

“Oh sweetheart, you have a lot to learn.” She chuckled before shaking her head and taking your hand. “Don’t worry I think we’re the same size.” She squealed before dragging you off your seat and through a group of topless girls who were changing.

You turned a bright red, feeling embarrassed for staring.

“Okay.” Candy nodded as she began pulling out outfits for you to look at. “These are some older ones that I haven’t worn in a while. All totally clean too.” She winked.

You looked at the different pieces of cloth that sat in front of you, not knowing what to pick until your eye caught an emerald green lingerie outfit.

It reminded you of Dean’s eyes.

“I’ll use this one.” You smiled as you grabbed it in your hand.

“Perfect.” Candy smiled. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” You spoke with embarrassment, but she waved you off.

“We’re all girls here. Now strip.” She grinned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before taking off all your clothes before putting on the outfit. Candy pulled you to the side to put some curls in your hair and add some glitter lotion to your body. She even did your makeup without a complaint.

When you were all done, and looking in the mirror, you couldn’t help but gawk.

You were hot.

You weren’t the sweet and innocent twenty-year-old nerd anymore, but a twenty-year old woman. The emerald green cups pushed your breasts together making them perky and appearing more plump before coming down over your belly, leaving the middle and sides open before covering your lady parts. In the back, there was nothing but strings making crisscrosses on your back, leaving your ass on display. Your hair flowed with soft curls and your make-up was dark with smokey green eyes while your lips were coated with a dark red lipstick.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” You admitted watching as the dancer grinned with pride.

“Just go out and do your thing.” She smacked your ass. “You’re next.” She grinned wickedly. “I told them to announce you when you were changing.”

You became nervous. Men were going to be out there watching you. Dean and Sam were going to be out there.

“Oh fuck.” You whispered at the realization that eventually you would have to dance tonight.

“Hurry get these on!” Candy knelt down, sliding the black ‘fuck-me’ pumps on your feet.

“Next to the stage . . . Arabella.”

Once you heard your stage name, you froze, not wanting to move from your spot.

“Go!” Candy pushed you through the curtain where you were met with bright lights that made you squint.

You let out a shaky breath before walking to the pole, your hand wrapping around it as the music began to play with an upbeat tune.

You weren’t really sure what to do, so you did what you saw in movies over the year. Remembering how Dean ogled over the way they would move.

You slowly circled the pole, your hand hanging on loosely before dropped low, bending at the knees to flaunt you ass before pushing yourself back up.

Money was tossed at you, but you ignored it and continued to move. Hooking your leg around the pole and spinning loosely.

Years of training made you limber and strong, especially your core strength.

You knew you could do this.

More money was thrown at you as you dropped to the ground and slowly crawled towards it before stopping at the man that threw it. You couldn’t quite make him out with the dark room, but that was okay for you. The less you knew the better.

You ran your hands through your hair and pushed out your chest before running your hands down your body, moving it down between your breasts, onto your stomach and stopping above the goods.

You pushed away from the floor and moved back to the pool where you climbed up and hooked your legs around it before slowly sliding down with your back arched.

You heard a couple of low whistles encouraging you to keep moving. Using your core strength to do different positioning until the up-beat song came to an end.

You collected as much money as you could, before walking off the stage squealing with excitement. You have never felt this way before, so confident.

“That was amazing.” Candy met you off stage and hugging you.

“That felt amazing.” You admitted out of breath.

Candy reached for a bottle of water and handed it to you. “You’re going to need this if-“

“Arabella!”

You turned and found one of the security guards looking for you.

“Yeah?” You asked taking the bottle from Candy’s hand.

“You have a private dance in the back room.”

You gulped, quickly drinking the water before pushing it away and looking at Candy for help.

“Relax, it’s just a dance, like what you were doing before.” She smiled warmly. “Here.” She grabbed the powder from the make up table, dabbing your nose and head. “Go get him.” She turned and pushed you out of the room.

You sucked in a deep breath before following the guard to the back room, the door reading ‘Private’

“Have fun.” He taunted before opening the door for you.

You stepped inside, your heels clicking loudly as you walked further into the room.

You stopped, stunned by a pair of green eyes that you’ve dreamt of since you were a teenager, mostly the wet dreams.

“D-Dean.” You stuttered, covering your body with your hands as a heat rushed over your body.

“Arabella.” He spoke with a smirk on his face, a beer dangling from his fingers.

The music above started playing loudly, making things even more awkward.

“What are you doing?” You asked, biting your painted lip.

“I paid for a dance.” He said softly before patting his lap. “Are you going to give that to me?”

You gulped. Did he really just say that?

You took a few hesitant steps towards Dean, moving around the table that sat in the middle of room before landing in his lap.

You weren’t really sure what to do. Not knowing if this some kind of trick so he could tease you later.

You put your knees on each side of his strong jean covered thighs as your hands went straight to his shoulders, but you stayed still only squeezing your hands on his shoulders.

“This isn’t much of a dance baby girl.” He taunted, his hands going straight to your hips making the small cloth between your legs wet.

You let out a soft sigh before grinding against him, your lace covered crotch rubbing gently against his jean covered length.

You listened as he groaned, even with the loud music it sent a chill down your spine.

You ran your hands gently down his shoulders to his chest as your threw your head back, your hair flying over your shoulders as you pressed your breasts into his face.

You felt the vibrations of his moan against your skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing his hands and placing them on your breasts, letting him squeeze and fondle them as you continued to grind feeling his length harden beneath you.

This time you were a moaning mess, wanting nothing more than to remove the thin material from your body.

Dean used one hand to reach from your breast to around your neck to pull you down so his lips were against your ear. “What a dirty little girl you are?” He growled in your ear. “I bet your all fucking wet and I’ve barely even touched you.” He bit down on the lobe of your ear sending a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Please.” You whimpered, wanting this for so long.

He adjusted you so that both of your knees were over one of his thighs and pressed you down. “Make yourself cum.” He let out before pinching your nipple between his two fingers.

You let out a cry, but stayed still not knowing if this was a dream or not.

“Why aren’t you moving? You want to act like a slut? Then act like it.” He growled and reached to grab your hips, moving your hips back and forth against his jean covered thigh.

You let out a whimper and began rocking your hips back and forth while Dean reached behind you, untying the skimpy material and letting it fall from your breast. “There you go.” He grinned before cupping your breasts. “Look how fucking pretty.” He spoke while licking his lips.

You were too busy enjoying the pleasure from riding his thigh to even think about what he said. Who knew you could feel this much pleasure without him even touching you?

Dean leaned his head down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, gently scraping it with his teeth. You began to slow down, too much pleasure was happening to your body and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

You felt a harsh slap to your right ass cheek, making you cry out.

“Don’t fucking stop.” He growled around your nipple before swirling his tongue around it.

“Dean . . . Dean . . .” You panted his name as you pressed down harder against his thigh, reaching to wrap your hand around his hair. “Fuck!” You cried out as your thighs began to shake.

Dean pulled back and squeezed both of your cheeks together, but you didn’t dare stop. “You gonna fucking cum on me leg? You better do it now.” He grabbed you by the hips and pushed you down harder, adding more pleasure and pressure.

You let out a loud cry as your body shook instantly coating Dean’s jeans in your wetness.

Dean looked down and grinned. “Look at that baby girl, you made a mess.” He bit his lip before letting your cheeks go. “Are you going to clean me up baby?”

You licked you lips. “Yes sir.” You panted as you lazily got up from his lap and went to your knees on the dirty floor.

“That a girl.” He smirked as he reached for his jeans, pulling out his hard cock that slapped against his stomach softly.

You licked your lips, unable to stop yourself from taking Dean’s veiny length into your mouth. You moaned loudly and used your hand to get what you couldn’t.

“Now, now sweetheart.” Dean tsked through a moan before reaching for your hand, pushing it away from his length. “Do it right.” He warned before jerking his hips, making his length go deeper in your mouth.

You let out a slight gag but managed to relax your throat and take him deeper until your nose was pressed against his pelvis.

“That’s it baby girl.” Dean grunted as he threw his head back, his arms going to the back of the chair as you bobbed your head up and down. “If you only knew how long I wanted this. Those pretty little lips sucking my cock.” He moaned before her grabbed your hair and pulled you back. He made you look at him as drool fell from your lips and onto your chin. He smirked, pleased with the disheveled look on your face as you panted. “I bet that pussy would feel even better.”

You couldn’t help the big grin that appeared on your face before you went back to work on his erection, wanting nothing more than to please him.

“Yeah that’s it baby, keep going.” He grunted as he began thrusting his hips, fucking your mouth.

You moaned as his hand made its way into your hair, pulling on the locks. “You going to be my little slut? Let me play with you.” His words became more drawn out, indicating that he was close.

You bobbed your head quicker, taking the time to lick and suck the sensitive tip before Dean held you still. “Gonna cum in that sexy mouth.” He groaned, his hips jerking up one last time before ropes of hot cum filled your mouth.

He let go of your hair gently. “Let me see.”

You opened your mouth wide and showed him the mess he made in your mouth. He smiled with pride before nodding. “Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing every last drop before smiling.

Dean reached forward, grabbing you by the throat and smashing your lips to his. “You’re mine now Y/N.” He warned before biting your bottom lip gently.

You pulled back with a pant and nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” He smirked and cupped you cheek.

There was a soft knock at the door, making you tense. “Dean!” It was Sam’s voice, “We got a lead! Let’s go.”

“I’ll be right there.” Dean called before looking at you and stuffing his semi-hard cock into his jeans. “You can be bait anytime you want sweetheart.” He winked before standing up. “Now get home before I tell your daddy what you’ve been up to.”

“Yes sir.”

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

Lauren’s Attunement/// The Catharsis of the Dark Diary (Long ass post)

Ah ... I really don't know how much I could say about this Attunement that I decided to separate into two parts and notice that I am going to deviate a bit from my original intention to make some clear points because there is a lot to get out of what Lauren has said. With that in mind I hope it is not too confusing to read.

First part: Cancellation Culture

I think our moonchild has been perfectly clear on this point. "We are living in a very sick world" "In a world in great need of healing and that will not do so through the culture of cancellation." Cancellation culture sucks, folks. A twisted idea of ​​exposing things from the past of people who have not been good and that people have become accustomed to criticizing as if all those who criticize were a mirror of virtue and perfection when nobody is perfect and Lauren also mentions that in your Attunement. Lauren also mentions that we cannot hold people accountable for their mistakes because it is the most important part of the process. And it is a truth like a cathedral. People who make mistakes need to take responsibility for their actions so that they don't make them again. It is necessary to learn from it and improve as people and heal. In the part where Lauren mentions that she would never publicly embarrass the people she loves, she reminded me of Camila. I did not want to mention Camila in this because we know that Lauren has also been humiliated but if we talk about the cancellation culture that part goes to Camila. Camila has been a victim of the culture of cancellation long before leaving the band and they have made Twitter threads, blaming her with a racist past for which she has apologized many times but still drag her to hell, no matter what. Camila has haters who love to fuck her and Lauren knows it too. She has known it forever and a clear example is (I'm not going to put a screenshot because it would distract me) the tweet where someone calls Camila ugly and Lauren responds to that hater saying: "Hello, can you show me a picture of you? " It is these details that make us understand that everything she sees on the internet in relation to her and her loved ones affects her a lot and what she says when she talks about the online world where we are all the time, is bullshit. She says that it's not that you can't do what makes you beautiful, that she's fine with it, but also the people who are watching don't know that shit is fake and that people aren't happy with who they are. "That when they look in the mirror they don't love themselves." And I think she hit the spot there too, folks. She has perfectly outlined a hater's profile. The lack of love of those people who have found an escape route to their frustrations, to what is wrong with their lives, that makes them what they are. Because as she says, we live in a screwed up world, it's true but the point is, how the hell have we got to this point? How do we get to this point where the human being has lost humanity and has become shadows of hatred and rejection that lives by making Twitter threads and canceling people to feel better about themselves? And then Lauren talks about Trump. She mentions Trump as a symptom of lack of love. And again she is not wrong. Donald Trump's life was never very happy. With an authoritarian father who always preferred his eldest son to follow the legacy of his family and perpetuate the name of it, when this son did not want that pressure, the father banished the eldest son and all the shit fell on Trump. The only other male in the family. Trump is that man's mirror. From that egomaniac, controlling, arrogant, undoubtedly macho and racist father because he has really shown it. Trump lives on appearances. To demonstrate something that is not and to hide its shortcomings in a marked narcissism.

Another thing that strikes me about what she has said and another truth is also that we no longer love each other because we do not know where we are standing. And that is also true, we do not know who we are because others dictate who we are. They dictate what to say, what to eat, what music to listen to, what television series to watch until we become cattle. We have lost our ability as individual beings to fit the mold of livestock just to give us the feeling of feeling connected, as if we were part of something. Part of a whole that is still controlled. From this part Lauren begins to talk about what she has written in her diary so I will continue with the second part, but to close this one, I can only say that many of the things she mentions are a reflection of what we are doing living, of what we are suffering and our own fragility as a human species.

Second part: Black Diary and Amy's Shadow

I think we have a concept of great artists as broken human beings, wrapped in dramas and additions that actually "help" perfectly in their art. Where, the more chaos there is in their lives, the more geniuses they become. And I think Amy can be an example of that. And talking about her, because I'm going to start by talking about her and then I'm going to express my thoughts about Lauren. I remember responding to an ask yesterday saying that I was terrified when Lauren said she felt identified with her because their lives were a kind of parallel. And then I thought better of it and realized that yes, both lives have that parallel but with a difference, Lauren has what Amy never had. An emotional support network. Good friends. Amy's life was marked by rejection, mockery, the circus that was her life where her art was in the background and her voice was shattered to make way for the addicted, alcoholic Amy, where her greatest achievement was to climb to a drugged and drunk stage, with glasses of wine that she drank live and her show was to demonstrate her weakness so that others made fun of her. Her parents perpetuated that shit because it gave them money, and as long as she made money, at the cost of her own physical and mental health, nothing else mattered. Being an artist is not only knowing how to sing, dance, write, paint and be good at all kinds of artistic expression, but it is much more than that. Being an artist is breaking yourself into pieces and giving them to your fans to do with those pieces what they want. It is giving more than what nobody will give you in return. And Amy got broken. They broke her into thousands of pieces and they all jumped like vultures wanting a piece of her until she ceased to exist because they never gave her a chance to rebuild herself. They never gave her a chance to learn to love herself to be able to heal because they didn't want a healthy Amy because that didn't sell. They were only served by her pain because she filled their bank accounts, those of her friends, those of her managers, those of the entertainment tabloids. Those of her boyfriends. The ones from her own fucking parents. And so far we can draw parallels with Lauren. It is possible that our moonchild has had or is having her problems with her mother, or with her record label, or with whatever she is having problems and is dealing with right now, but at least she does not have a family that just supports her and is there for the money she may or may not earn. And yes, she mentioned many fears at first before reading the newspaper, but at least she has had a chance to regroup when she needs to. Lauren has the ability to heal herself, her own will thanks to her own strength. Because even if you are afraid of breaking or feeling pain, you have to feel it. You have to hit rock bottom to learn how to get out of there. You have to go to the extreme of falling enough to know that your own will, your own inner strength is so great that it helps you to rise not only once, but a thousand times if necessary. And she has that ability. I believe and have always said it, you already know it. That the real problem, or part of it, is not Lauren's fragility because that is bullshit. Lauren is a strong girl but at the same time she has this angel, this kind of kindness that really does not go well in an environment as rotten and toxic as the industry. Lauren Jauregui does not fit molds. She cannot follow rules if she considers that they are not fair and that people in the industry do not like because they lose their ability to manipulate it. There is a reason that her song Toy has disappeared, folks. Lauren is still an artist and of course she too falls into the concept of what it means to be an artist, breaking herself into pieces and giving those pieces to us who are her fans. And since we have a piece of it, perhaps we create ourselves with the right to demand more from her because we are not satisfied with what she gives us and we criticize her for it. The worst fans are capable of fucking her and haters are able to write Twitter threads exposing what they hate about her.

That would scare anyone, folks. Even if you are not an artist. There is a Lauren Gif that I posted on the blog as part of a set of images related to Camren. In that gif Lauren looks at the audience with such a raw expression on her face saying something like: "You who are there screaming like crazy, with your perfect lives while I am being pressured to the point of breaking and you just want more" (I put the only screenshot because I don't have the GiF image at hand)

This GiF is something that always caught my attention and since I have known Lauren she knew that there was something else with her. I met her as the bad girl, the bitch one. That image that appeared to conform to Tyren. And then her smile disappeared. I remember when I joined the fandom where one of my first posts about PR circuses was to ask myself: Why do girls look so fucked up? Why is Lauren so sad or why has her smile disappeared? And then there were those weird videos where she seemed like "haunted", like outside of herself and that agreed with the time that she had to stunt for Tyren and always seemed to be the same dynamic with her. And then it was not only me who realized that Lauren was not well, but also other mutuals and we kept repeating the same thing to the bastards on her team: "Lauren is not well, please take care of her " That was something that we repeated a thousand times with Lauren and then also with Camila because it always caught my attention that the two of them were equally fucked at the same time. Before I knew that Lauren had her problems with her family, I also noticed that separation. I think I received a bit of shit after expressing my thoughts but in the end, I was never wrong because Lauren herself has expressed it and I think if I had been in the fandom long before 2018 I would have noticed it too. This has been a very emotional Attunement on Lauren's part and I told her in a tweet, as her fan has been a privilege to have witnessed that. It is a privilege to be a fan of a girl with a huge heart who has flaws that make her more human than other people and who has grown enough to know that she can continue to do so. With this post I have tried to be respectful and say that, although I do not know her, we connect in a special way because we have almost the same way of thinking in many aspects (although I do not agree in many others) and I think that still does most important to me. About the newspaper. It reminded me of the lost diary topic, but apparently she has more than one. Who knows. I remember my period of having diaries in my teens and I appreciate that because it made me realize that writing would be an important part of my life. If there is one way I am good at expressing myself it is writing, and no, not in English so I apologize for the mistakes. There is one last detail of Lauren's Attunement that goes a bit more on the personal side. When she says: "To be a real one, is to be an emotional one". I have always had a conflict with being emotional. Starting with my zodiac sign (yes, I know it's a bit silly to believe in that but it amuses me). As a Pisces, I am an emotional being. As a physically disabled person I have my limitations and although these limitations do not define me, I have always had a fierce fight with my vulnerable side. I hate depending on others, physically and emotionally. I also hate getting sick and others having to take care of me when I'm unable to do it on my own, that's why I don't get along with my emotional side. Excessively emotional and I prefer to be more cerebral in many aspects (I think you have noticed that my favorite word this year has been brainless people, right) and dependency is something that I can't stand on myself. That they depend on me does not matter, I am always for those who need me but being dependent is something I tend to avoid like pests. Relying on others to do things for you, depending on the affection of other people ... my family (except my mother) was never very affectionate to say, it was not impulsively hugging you or public displays of affection and I learned to be the same . But I also learned to give what others did not give me. And it cost me. That of leaving the mold of a family that is there and that sometimes worries but that others can leave you and not know what you are doing on any given day. A family that demands expectations. At least some of my uncles. I think that in that part I feel identified with Lauren and it is curious because I am adopted but she is not. And still I feel identified with Lauren and at the same time with Camila and the relationship that she has with her mother, which is almost an exact copy of the relationship that I had with my mother throughout my childhood and adolescence. I guess that's why I follow them both, apart from because I love the music of both. The last detail and I already stop talking about me because this post is about Lauren. What she talks about the industry, the molds, how female artists within the industry are treated. That was also an important aspect because here we are, always complaining about the fact that female artists are undervalued and punished twice as much as a male artist because the music industry is misogynous and macho. That's true.

Society tends to forgive the mistakes of male artists who sometimes do more reprehensible things than female artists and all the mistakes of those female artists (Leigh-Ann of LM throwing shade at Camila) come to light more times and they are more hated. That is a part of the industry that I have always hated and that makes me sad at the same time because it always affects our girls. And I don't know what else I have left to say that I haven't already said, I hope I wasn't too confused with my ideas but it was something I had to write about and I've taken my time to do that. I don't know if Lauren is ever going to read this, but I wanted to thank her. Thanks moonchild. Thank you for giving us that piece of you that makes you vulnerable so that we know it. Thank you for being yourself, for teaching us that we can heal and continue to grow. Thank you for that beautiful mind of yours that has so much to express and deliver to this screwed up world. Don't stop being real, mija. Don't let that light you have go out. I love you so much moonchild ...

sorry for the long reading, folks but it was something I needed to said.

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (10/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9]

The play wasn't horrible by any stretch of the imagination. It was the most fun Clarke had had in a long time. She laughed so hard at parts that tears sprung to her eyes and her cheeks started to hurt by the end of it. The 1920s décor and costumes were stunning, the performances captivating, and the story the perfect balance between humor and social commentary. Even Lexa, who already knew the jokes and twists, still laughed loudly.

Clarke took as much joy from the sound as she did the play. When the curtain fell for the last time and the lights fully came on, she looked over at Lexa and found herself captivated. Lexa was still clapping for her cousin’s success, her face beaming with pride, and Clarke couldn’t really explain why it made her adore this woman so much more.

"Are you hungry?" Lexa asked her.

Clarke nodded mutely, unsure what to do with the intensity of her feelings. She let Lexa take her hand and lead her out of the theater, where the crowd spilled out of the great glass doors.

Cocoa Street was the longest street in Costial, cutting through the city in a curving fashion. Clarke's favorite part was the food trucks; rows of them on both sides with their own specialties and flair. You could very well order duck à l'orange with mashed pumpkin at one truck and a burger with fries at the next one. The Italian ice cream truck was between the rival crab cake trucks and the Noodle Brothers were right next to the Pizza Sisters. There were lines wherever you went, sometimes even street performers to soften the blow of the waiting time. It was absurd and it was wonderful.

They ate Chicago-style hot dogs and curly fries, slowly walking down the street as they laughed about the play. Lincoln had relied on alternate history to weave the visions into his tale, using them for comedic effect in the more dramatic beats. A secondary character had one in the middle of a monologue, suddenly passing out while a crowd rushed over to him. The visions were reenacted with tricks of light and masked characters, reminiscent of interpretive dances.

"Okay, I have to ask," Clarke brought up while they meandered down the street. "The castle on the hill - that's the Polis Hotel, right?"

Lexa nodded. "Lincoln has a complicated relationship with his heritage, to say the least. He's keenly aware growing up in a luxury hotel was a great privilege, but it also messed with his head. He basically shared a home with thousands of strangers for eighteen years."

"I'd always admired Polis from afar, but I can't imagine growing up there. Don't get me wrong, that was one hell of a party, but-"

"It's not a place for a kid," Lexa finished, in agreement.  

Clarke ate the last bite of her chocolate waffle and threw the paper in the trash. “You must be pretty familiar with it.”

Lexa glanced at her and smiled. "The cat and I go back."

"Right. That night was a bit intense, even for you."

Lexa let out a laugh, looking away with a hum. "You know, you make me sound quite strange."

Clarke bumped her shoulder. "You pinned me against the staircase - you are strange."

"I didn't… pin you," Lexa replied with a huff. "I was drunk, high off an excellent game of poker… and I saw you. And I needed to be close to you."

Clarke stopped them in the street, grateful they'd left the busy part. "And the Gazette?"

“What about it?”

"You offered me a side job. Just like that."

"Oh," Lexa remembered. "I genuinely thought you'd be good at it. Still do. Your style would be perfect."

That was surprising, but Clarke wasn't convinced. "It wasn't because of your vision?"

"It was a way to talk to you, yes, but I meant it. I know the visions were… well, the reason for this, that they nudged us together, but I'd noticed you drawing before."

They walked a bit further before Clarke took a small breath. "I, uh, may have looked at the pages in older prints."

Lexa glanced at her. "And?"

"It could be fun. I'm just not sure-" Clarke scrunched her nose. "I'm just so rusty. Art is what I got into college for, but then I took up business classes and… I don't know, it just felt so much easier. Don't get me wrong, managing the café kicks my ass every day, but I like the challenges. With drawings, paintings, whatever… it feels like putting your heart on the line each time. And nine times out of ten, your heart ends up getting trampled."

Lexa took her hand to stop her. "I would never suggest you do something that makes you uncomfortable. If it's truly just a hobby to you, a way to pass the time, you should keep it that way."

It wasn't like Clarke hadn't considered it. Drawing, sketching; it came as naturally as breathing. She'd done it since she could hold a pencil and she still did it whenever the world became too loud. It was an escape; a different way of thinking. Her own little world. Illustrating short stories could be a welcome breath of fresh air. A way for her brain to snap away from bills, calls, deliveries, and the hundreds of post-its in her tiny office.

"And for the record," Lexa added as she stepped closer, her voice impossibly soft, "I would very much stand in the way of whoever or whatever would try to trample you."

Clarke grinned, very much aware that, not so long ago, these were not words she could have ever imagined Lexa Woods telling her.  

* * *

As she had the last time, Lexa insisted that she walk Clarke back to her apartment. After a night full of laughs, great food, and Lexa's hand in hers, Clarke still didn't have her fill and so didn't tease Lexa too much for also wanting to enjoy every last second. When they made it to her door, Clarke turned around and leaned against it. Tonight couldn't end here.

"By the way, you were wrong earlier. My vision isn't the reason for this." Clarke waited a beat before playing her last hand: "It's not the vision I thought about that night after the rooftop."

Lexa's mouth parted open and she glanced at Clarke's lips.

"I was going to," Clarke continued, "but it didn't hold a candle to how you made me feel when you grabbed my hand."

Lexa swallowed when Clarke reached for her jacket to tug her closer. "How did I make you feel?"  

Clarke pulled her in until their foreheads touched. "Warm. Dizzy."

"Dizzy on a rooftop? That's a safety hazard."

"Are you trying to turn me on or are you trying to make me laugh?"

"They're not mutually exclusive."

They broke into laughter anyway. Lexa leaned in to kiss her, only to stop just as their lips brushed.

"You never told me about your vision," Lexa pointed out. "Not… not exactly."

Clarke smiled, smug. "Oh you want details, hm?"

"I'm a journalist. A thorough account would be nice, yes."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her before crushing their lips together, unbelievably pleased when Lexa moaned and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Shut up, journo," Clarke husked between kisses.

Lexa kissed her with little restraint then, moving until Clarke was pressed against the door. Each one of Lexa's kisses felt like something special; like finally she'd shed her old fears. Clarke didn't even want to think of not being close to Lexa right now. The night couldn't end - not like this. She pulled back and gazed at Lexa, trying to catch her breath.

This close, Clarke could commit to memory every detail of her face. She'd always thought she got a good look at Lexa at the café, even with the counter between them, but it was nothing compared to this. Lexa's lips were full and at their most tempting when slightly parted, betraying her own desire. Her eyes were hooded now, longing, and Clarke had little doubt hers reflected the same want. She threw caution to the wind:

"Come inside?"

Lexa hesitated, visibly torn.

"We don't have to do anything. I have a nice wine we can try. Some of Gus's tartlets left over. We can even sit with the box between us. I just… I don't want tonight to be over yet."

* * *

It was not what she'd had in mind. She swore it. Nevertheless, when Clarke found herself straddling Lexa on her living room couch with the box of tartlets discarded on the floor (the tartlets well finished by then), she couldn't remember why the hell not.

Maybe the air had already been too charged by the time she wiped her thumb over Lexa's lip to catch a crumb there, and maybe Clarke had liked playing with fire, but now she was well on her way to being burned. Lexa's hands palmed her ass while they kissed, but it was the boldest she allowed herself to be and Clarke was quickly reaching her breaking point.

"Touch me," she pleaded between kisses.

Lexa let out a choked moan when Clarke reached for her hand and guided it to her breasts. She paused, looking up. The green in her eyes had darkened, especially in the dim light, and she breathed deeply.

"Clarke…"

"I know, I know, just - something. Anything." Clarke leaned her forehead against Lexa's. "I feel like a fucking teenager."

Lexa let out a small laugh before kissing her sweetly, slowly. It had the soothing effect she had intended, and before Clarke realized it, Lexa had lied her down on her back. She hovered over her, then looked down at her cleavage and pressed her lips against the exposed skin.

"Is that better?" She asked.

"Close…"

Lexa let out a hum against her skin, pressing another kiss lower. Clarke brushed her fingers in Lexa's thick hair, digging just slightly in her scalp, surprised when Lexa let out a small moan and then froze with wide eyes, like Clarke had just found her secret.

"Oh," Clarke breathed out, her smile widening. She repeated the gesture, pressing her fingers just a bit harder.

Lexa immediately grabbed her hands and pinned them down on each side of Clarke's head.

"Don't do that," she warned her, breathless.

Clarke smirked. "I think I will."

"It was just a reflex," Lexa blushed. "It's been a while."

Clarke couldn't help but laugh, happiness bubbling in her chest at how comfortable she felt with Lexa's body slotted between her legs. "Well, I'm very happy to find out whatever draws out those sounds from you."

Lexa seemed to realize just how close they were, locked together with their fingers entwined. And just like the rooftop when she'd suddenly grabbed her hand, her expression changed. Confident. Eager.

She sat back, eyes trailing down Clarke's body before she let go of her hands to touch her thighs.

"You like control, don't you, Clarke?" She asked. She ran her hands up her thighs, caressing them slowly. "But not now."

Clarke nearly lost her breath, not expecting the way Lexa had shifted so quickly from embarrassed to self-assured. She watched as Lexa drank her in, from her bunched up dress to the fast rise and fall of her chest.

"Touch yourself," Lexa told her, and then leaned down to brush her lips against hers. "The way you did after the rooftop."

"Lexa-"

"I want to watch you."

Clarke nodded, her hand trailing down her own body to the bottom of her dress. Lexa watched as she reached beneath the fabric, eager to follow her command. She slid her hand beneath her tights, beneath her underwear, moaning at the relief when she finally touched herself. She knew Lexa could feel her heat; knew they were both reaching a point of no return. It had started when Lexa had kissed her at the start of their date, but Lexa's hands on her ass while they'd kissed had awakened her completely.

Lexa briefly glanced between their bodies, groaning when she saw Clarke's hand moving.

"Is this how you did it?" She asked. "Two fingers?"

Clarke let out an obscene moan, too far gone to care. "Three," she whimpered.

Lexa's jaw clenched, but her control was remarkable. "Did you imagine it on the rooftop? Me inside you against that wall?"

Clarke's eyes squeezed shut as she bit down on her lip. "Yes. Fuck."

She swiped her fingers over her clit, but the angle and her tights restricted most of her movements. She was fairly certain Lexa knew it. Lexa leaned down again, kissing her neck.

"How did I fuck you?" She asked by her ear, one hand reaching up to lightly brush against her breast.

Clarke panted, fighting the unbearable need to penetrate herself. She needed release, and fast, but a part of her was too stubborn to give in just yet.

"You pressed me against the wall," she revealed, burying her face in Lexa's neck. With her free hand, she dug her nails in Lexa's ass, feeling a thrill when Lexa bucked against her. "And then- I… I needed more. I needed you deeper."

"So I turned you around," Lexa guessed, squeezing her nipple over the fabric of her dress.

"I- oh, fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about you inside me; how well you'd fill me," Clarke said, her middle finger trembling from the angle, desperate to inch inside herself.

"Jesus, Clarke," Lexa breathed out in the space between her neck and shoulder. Her lips felt like heaven against her skin. Clarke couldn't get enough.

"Clarke," Lexa repeated, raising her head. "Look at me." It was softer then, more of a plea.

Clarke opened her eyes and felt her movements slow down. It was like experiencing déjà-vu, except of course that was impossible. They'd never done this. But she suddenly realized it had all started here. She'd had her vision on this very couch and here she was - not fulfilling it, exactly, but close. Yet what she'd seen and even felt had never been like this. It had been purely physical - an erotic thrill in her otherwise predictable life. But she hadn't felt her heart beating out of her chest. She'd had a sense it was more intimate than what she was used to, but hadn't been able to quite grasp what that meant. She knew now. Their intensity wasn't so much physical as it was emotional.

She felt safe with Lexa. They still had so much to learn about each other, but she felt safe. And Clarke had never realized the importance of it. Lexa had trusted her with her pain and her heart - that wasn't something Clarke took lightly. It was a feeling not even her vision could have conveyed.

"Fuck, wait, wait, stop," she abruptly panted, pulling her hand out of her underwear.

Lexa backed away immediately, but Clarke sat up to stop her from moving off the couch.

"Lexa, I… I want to be with you," she said, as if remembering her vision had suddenly clarified everything. "When you're ready, I want to be with you completely."

"I want that too." Lexa still seemed confused, or maybe surprised Clarke had done the equivalent of dunking ice cold water atop her own head.

“Right. And - this is fun. I-” Clarke’s eyes briefly closed as she bit her lip. “Fuck I really want to get off-”

Lexa smiled.

“-but not like this.” Clarke reached out to cup her cheeks. “Not without you.” She kissed Lexa briefly, barely a brush of lips, and watched as her eyes followed her every move so tenderly. “Not if I don’t get to touch you too.”

"Clarke…"

Clarke shook her head, kissing her way down Lexa's jaw and neck. "Not if I can't see all of you. Can't hear you moan my name." She licked over Lexa's pulse, enjoying the way her hips bucked against her. "Not if I can't taste you while you come undone."

Lexa pulled back and brushed away some of Clarke's wild strands of hair. "Such words… You should be a journalist."

"I hear they have egos."

"Oh yes, terrible."

"I'm glad I found one that's not so bad then."

They smiled at each other, then took a breath.

"Sorry," Clarke sighed. "I feel like I'm the one giving you whiplash now."

"No, it's only fair. If anything I admire your restraint."

Clarke leaned back against the arm of the couch. "Maybe you'll just have to work harder next time."

Lexa smirked. "I can do that." She glanced at her breasts. "At least I made new friends."

Clarke let out a laugh, enamored. "Alright, well, you and my tits can pick up this conversation another time. I need a shower and if you're not gone in two minutes, I'm definitely dragging you in with me."

Lexa hummed in agreement.

After Clarke walked her to the entrance and watched Lexa put on her shoes and jacket, they lingered in the doorway.

"Thank you for tonight," Clarke said. She had never felt like this before - a part of her desperate to find a way for Lexa to stay. A way to prolong the conversation. To ward off the night so that Lexa and her could just live in this moment a while longer. "The play, the food, this… Everything."

She hoped Lexa felt the same.

"Trust me, it was my pleasure," Lexa replied, her face still slightly flushed.

"You've set the bar high."

"You took me to a secret hike. I was just trying to catch up."

At Clarke's smile, Lexa bit her lip and toyed with the button of her jacket. "Anya used to say I reacted to everything with either fight or flight. I didn't prove her wrong when I left for Costial, but I don't want to run away again."

Clarke nodded in understanding.

“It just… creeps up on me sometimes,” Lexa continued. “I could be having the time of my life one second and the next my chest gets tighter and the world gets smaller. Suffocating.” She gave her a resolute look. “When I meant slow, I meant… I just need to be sure that feeling won’t come between us again." She glanced at her lips. "But… It also means that once we do cross that line, I intend to make up for lost time.”

Clarke swallowed, fighting the urge to drag Lexa back inside. "I'm a patient woman."

Lexa smiled. "Goodnight, Clarke."

"Mm. Text me when you get home?"

"I will."

-

[part eleven]

[slightlymore]

Pride | Part 2

Pairing: CollegeStudent!Doyoung (main), Y/N, CollegeStudent!Johnny  Genre: Series | Smut | Angst | Crack | Prob fluff if you wear magnifying glasses Warnings: Swearing | +18 in general Words: 4.9K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |  Part 8 THE END

Doyoung couldn’t believe he actually said that. 

You were standing there, with your lips slightly parted as if in awe, looking at him, incredulous. He didn’t know who looked the most shocked between the two of you. He felt like an idiot. You obviously didn’t want to go on a date with him. Why did he say that? Why was he like that? What was going on with him? “I mean, to hang out” he added quickly as if correcting the previous statement. It somewhat became even worse. As if he was begging you to hang out with him. 

“Ah,” you said after a little while, still unsure. Doyoung felt like hyperventilating. Your face transformed into that face one makes when feeling sorry or when about to reject someone. Why would you want to hang out with him? You were probably the type of person to accept just to not be rude and he hated it. What the fuck was he thinking? “Or not,” he said after a moment finding it unbearable to wait like that, in front of you.  He has never done anything like that before. It was terrible. He has promised to himself to just let you go and stop thinking about you and now there he was, asking you on dates. For fuck’s sake.  But then he saw your lips move. You were about to finally open your mouth and reply. In the same moment, your phone ringed. Doyoung saw how your eyes widened a little and he could almost feel your impatience to go and pick that up but compelling yourself to stand there. “You can go and take that,” he said and he didn’t even finish the last syllable that you were already almost running to the living room. His heart stung. “I’ll call you, Doyoung!” you said as a goodbye. “Sure” he replied, but you probably didn’t hear him. “Call me” he added in a whisper even though you never exchanged phone numbers. 

You knew it was stupid. It was even more stupid to show it to Doyoung after he saw your condition the day before. But you couldn’t help yourself. Johnny was still your friend. Thanks to the morning clarity you could see how badly you reacted yesterday towards him sleeping with another girl. What was the problem? It’s not like he was in love with her. He would still be by your side as he was always had.  “Hey” you said after breathing in and out to calm yourself. “Heeey” Johnny said. He was in a good mood. You smiled. “Are you able to stand?” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes even if he wasn’t able to see. “I’m perfectly fine. I didn’t drink that much” you explained.  “Good. Doyoung took good care of you,” he said.  Your smile flattered a little. “You knew he was taking me home?” you asked.  “Duh. What kind of friend would I be if I let you be taken by random people without worrying about you?” he asked. 

You felt confused. That’s why he didn’t call or text. He didn’t need to. He already knew and didn’t need to worry too much. It’s not like he was too busy. He thought about you and your safety first. Then he thought about that girl. Doyoung made it look as if Johnny was unaware of your whereabouts and didn’t care about you. He lied. You felt your guts starting to boil a little. “I thought Doyoung did it all by himself” you commented. “Oh no” replied Johnny, “he actually didn’t want to do it and I asked him to. He did me a favour” he explained. You nodded. It was obvious. You felt stupid. It was so obvious that your best friend would care about you more than about his hookup partner. It’s not like he forgot about you.  Johnny looked after you and worried that you arrived home safely. Doyoung made it seem as if he was a hero when in reality he didn’t even care about you at all. What a dick, you thought. Going on a date my ass. What was that? A cruel manoeuvre to laugh about you and make you feel stupid for having an unrequited love? You were getting mad. You were so ashamed that you thought badly about Johnny with a stranger as if Johnny hurt you. He didn’t hurt you at all. He just loved you as a friend and it was enough for you. You were just being dramatic about it. You and Johnny were still the most important people for each other. He still cared about you more than other girls. You didn’t call nor you texted and Doyoung wasn’t surprised at all. It was the first day of the new semester and he did his best to just stop thinking about you. Why did he even like you in the first place? He had no real reason. Your interactions were like one and a very bad one, to say the least. There was nothing, in particular, he liked about you. Next time he’ll see you he won’t look twice. This time for real.  But then he actually saw you. 

His heart did a whole gymnastic routine. For fuck’s sake. He had to close his eyes for a moment and breathe yet again. What a moron.

When he opened them he understood that you were coming towards him. “What you did was vile” you accused him when you got close enough.  He blinked a few times looking at you. Your expression was scary and your eyes furious. “What are you talking about?” he asked, trying to not comment on your word choice.  You crossed your arms on your chest and puffed your cheeks. Doyoung knew that you wanted to intimidate him but he found it adorable. He tried hard not to chuckle.  “You painted Johnny as the bad guy that doesn’t care about me and acted as if you wanted to take care of me when Johnny basically begged you for you to accept” you explained. 

Doyoung expected absolutely everything to come out of your mouth, besides that. “First of all”, he began with a low voice. 

“Also you didn’t tell me that he knew where I was or that he was worried about me” you talked again. “You made it sound as if he didn’t give a fuck, making me think badly of him” you added. “Let me speak” he replied. He was starting to get irritated as well. You scoffed. “First of all, I never painted him as the bad guy. I have no idea where you got that from. Second of all, it’s not true that he begged me to take you home and I refused” he said trying to keep his voice down as some curious eyes and ears started to get a little too invasive. “I talked to him. He said that” you interrupted him. “Let me finish” he warned you again. “And third, he actually didn’t give a fuck about you yesterday, okay? He was not worried. He didn’t know where you were, what were you doing and with whom. I said to him that you needed to go home and he just gave me the address. I didn’t refuse to do it. I was just shocked that he was so eager to give you off on the hands of a stranger so easily” he finished. You gulped a few times as he spoke. Your throat was dry. “Yeah, but he did warn you to be careful. That means that he does care and that he was worried. He told me that. He still cares about me” you talked again. Doyoung didn’t reply to that and just looked at you. His expression was a mask of disappointment. “Why are you doing this?” he asked you, this time softly. It threw you off guard. His eyes looked as if reading your mind and soul and you hated it. “What do you mean?” you asked as well. Doyoung tightened his lips in a line and crossed his arms on his chest as well. “Why are you trying so hard to convince yourself that he cares about you in a way that is beyond friendship?” he asked. When he saw your eyes get wide, as big as to almost see his own reflection in them, he knew that he hurt you irremediably. But could he just shut up and let you suffer like that again? He wasn’t even doing it for himself anymore, was he? It was just ridiculous to see you still so attached to someone that wasn’t interested, defending him and lying to yourself that he actually cared about you in ways he didn’t. “I’m not trying to do that” you replied. “You just painted him as a bad friend, which he is not, and I wanted to make sure that you knew that” you added. Your eyes hurt as if trying to hold in tears. You weren’t about to start crying in front of this dude. Not again. “He wasn’t a great friend though, was he? He left you alone the whole night while getting his dick sucked. If he were a good friend he would have let that girl go, and took you home by himself instead of asking the guy who took care of you the whole night and that actually offered himself first making sure to let your friends know your condition and your whereabouts” Doyoung spurted out. 

He was being cruel. He knew that. But he couldn’t just handle this situation in a more diplomatic way. Putting Johnny under a bad light wasn’t his intentions at all but he couldn’t agree and say to you that he was an amazing guy and just encourage you to continue crushing on him that way. “I thought that after yesterday night, you would have decided to change something about this situation” Doyoung added. You wanted to slap him. Only because he assisted at one of your breakdowns it didn’t mean he could just butt in and tell you what to do. It was mortifying. Your rational side of your head knew that he was right and you hated it. “Mind your own fucking business” you warned him as you finally found your voice. Then you just turned around and left. Doyoung looked at your back going further away until you turned a corner. He felt like dying. 

“What do you think if we went out tonight?” Johnny asked you as you were walking to grab lunch. He didn’t know about your fight with Doyoung and he didn’t have to. You would need to explain too many details that you’ve done your best to keep secret all of this time. You imagined him laugh at your worries. Of course, I care about you, Y/N. I didn’t worry much because I know that you and Doyoung like each other and I thought you were having fun, there was no reason for me to butt in, he would say. I don’t like him, you stupid idiot, I like you! you wanted to scream. “On a Monday?” you asked, even if you didn’t care about not sleeping a whole night if it meant hanging out with him.  “We have an afternoon class tomorrow” Johnny explained. “Also, I want you to meet someone,” he said after a moment with a smile. He looked almost shy. You stopped. He walked a step ahead then stopped as well. “Are you dating that girl?” you asked with a feeble voice. Johnny smiled as a reply glad that you understood so easily. “I mean, it happened all very fast and I don’t want to talk too soon, but…” he didn’t complete the phrase. “What’s wrong?” he nudged at you with his elbow seeing you shocked and silent. “I’m sure you’ll like her. She’s great. We’ve talked about you a lot and she’s excited to meet you”. You felt like crying. You felt like falling on the ground and screaming. You were sure she was very great indeed if Johnny, the mighty Johnny, Johnny fucking Suh, decided to date her. And that was the most painful thing. The fact that she was probably amazing and you had no reason to hate her. She deserved Johnny and he deserved someone like her. It finally happened. You lost him.  Johnny sighed as you wouldn’t crack a word. “We can bring Doyoung along as well” he tried to talk you into it, assuming you were just nervous.  You wanted to break something.  “Yeah, sure, why not?” you tried to smile. 

You didn’t expect Doyoung to show up. “Are you here to laugh at me?” you asked him while walking towards the local McDonald’s. It was a weird choice but the girl smiled so brightly when saying she craved fast-food that no one had the heart to object. She was just as you imagined her to be. Johnny asked you, whispering, what your opinion was, but you felt so empty inside that you couldn’t comment the way she deserved. “She’s just perfect, Johnny” you simply managed to say, because that was what he wanted to hear. He smiled sweetly, glad that you approved and turned back to her. You ended up walking behind them, forced to stare at how he wrapped her shoulder with his arm and how she wrapped his waist with hers. Doyoung was silently walking with hands in his pockets beside you. He didn’t reply to your question. “I’m sorry for yelling at you” you talked to him again after a while. “It’s alright” he replied. 

You sighed. How many times have you apologized to him already? Doyoung saw the worst in you in just two days and you already had a full-on fight, you had to thank him multiple times and apologize to him and it was the most you’ve done with basically a stranger. “I’m sorry as well. I should have chosen my words more wisely” he added. “Yes,” you agreed. He rolled his eyes at you. “I was right though, wasn’t I?” he asked, comfortable enough to lightly joke around. You saw how nervous he looked while approaching you, sure that you were still mad at him. You felt sorry. He didn’t deserve any of this.  “Yes, but you were still a dick about it” you replied with a little smile. “I still think you have no right to give off opinions” you added lifting up your chin at him. He looked at you for a second then smiled back and went silent again. You didn’t expect that. You felt like bickering with someone. You were trying to stab him a little but he didn’t care about your darts at all. He was feeling weirdly distant and sad. What was he so sad about? “Are you alright?” you asked him. He looked at you again, slightly surprised. “Yeah, why?” he asked. You shrugged. “Just checking” you replied. You walked a few steps in silence. “Are you alright?” he asked. It was the first time he alluded to the Johnny situation. His voice went a little quieter and deeper. He had never asked you how you felt before, not on the swing, not while carrying you home, not the morning after. Maybe because it was obvious before. “Do I look alright?” you asked him. He analyzed you thoroughly even if it was a rhetorical question. “Objectively, yes,” he said. “You’re good at hiding” he commented. You smiled at him as if guarding a secret you both were aware of. “I’ve learned from you,” you said. I’ve learned from you. You learned from him. To hide. To hide feelings. You could see his feelings? You knew he was hiding feelings? What does that mean? What was that? He was panicking.  When Johnny called him, Doyoung thought he wanted to fight or something. Then he asked if he was free tonight and Doyoung thought he wanted to beat him up in a parking lot. But then he mentioned a double date and Doyoung felt something he couldn’t describe with words. Shock, happiness, agonizing pain thinking about you, relief, anxiety.  “You good?” Doyoung heard Johnny’s voice at his right. “Yeah” he replied. He realized everyone was eating their food while he just stared at it. He grabbed his burger and bit down. He was not feeling hungry at all. Looking at you, he realized he wasn’t the only one.  Johnny seemed like a pretty smart guy and Doyoung couldn’t understand how oblivious he was to the situation. You were so depressed trying to eat your almost cold fries what he felt like screaming. Why didn’t you even confess your love to Johnny? What if he would have dated you? What if Johnny secretly liked you and never said it because you thought you didn’t like him back just the way you were thinking? Doyoung hated the rational part of himself that only thought about the best objective outcome instead of his own desires but he hated seeing you like that more than he hated his own unreciprocated feelings. Because even if it looked like Johnny wasn’t a problem anymore, he still was since you were so in love with him. That’s why Doyoung couldn’t feel joy at all, because nothing changed for him. He knew he could easily just insert himself into your life but would that be fair for both of you? Would it be positive to make you forget about your love so forcefully? Would he be able to stay with you knowing that you were thinking about another man? He felt nauseous. And you probably did feel that way as well as you suddenly got up. 

"I’m going to the bathroom,” you said, walking hurriedly. 

Johnny looked at you surprised. 

“Do you think she’s okay?” he asked to no one in particular.  Doyoung sighed.  “Maybe her stomach is a little upset,” said The Girl. 

“I need to go and wash my hands,” Doyoung said getting up as well. Johnny looked at his clean hands and raised an eyebrow but couldn’t make a comment since Doyoung was already walking through the bathroom doors. 

He stopped in the little corridor and peeked inside the ladies restroom. A woman was standing in front of the mirror. She looked at him as if he was a pervert. “Do you need help? The men’s one is behind you” she said. Doyoung ignored her.  Were you really having an upset stomach or were you just dramatically crying on the toilet? 

Fuck it, he thought while stepping into the bathroom. 

“Hey, young man!” the woman from before said to him. He ignored her again. 

“Y/N” he called. There was only one occupied toilet. You didn’t reply but he could hear some sniffling. 

“I’m going to call someone to take you out if you don’t-” the lady started to talk again. 

“Just shut up for a second” Doyoung replied without looking at her. “Y/N, let’s go home” he added talking to you.  He waited for a few seconds.  The door then opened slowly revealing your red nose and eyes. Doyoung sighed.  “I can’t believe you came to the ladies restroom. What are you thinking?” you commented getting out, trying to be snarky, as if you weren’t crying for the Nth time in front of him.  Doyoung was about to reply sarcastically as the only way he could communicate, especially in those types of sad and awkward situations, but the words died in his throat. 

Because you suddenly hugged him. 

Well, it wasn’t really a hug, you just grabbed his waist, almost knocking him down, and hid your face on his hoodie, sobbing. Doyoung blinked a few times not knowing what to do with his arms. He was T-posing in a McDonald’s ladies’ bathroom while a girl was crying on his chest. It was almost funny. Slowly, though, he touched your back and patted on your shoulders to calm you down. 

“Let’s go home” he whispered again. 

You sniffled and separated yourself from him. Then you blew your nose with toilet paper and looked up at him. 

“I’m a mess,” you said looking briefly at yourself in the mirror. 

“Yeah” he replied even if he thought you were cute. “It’s fine though, let’s go,” he said grabbing you by your arm. You let yourself be carried away. 

“Hey” you heard Johnny as you approached the table. Doyoung took your jacket and made you wear it. 

“What happened?” Johnny talked again. He looked very worried and it made you feel even worse. Even his girlfriend looked preoccupied. 

“She has very painful cramps right now” Doyoung answered for you putting your bag on his shoulder. “I’m taking her home,” he said. 

You looked at Doyoung at the same moment Johnny looked at you. 

“Damn” he commented. “I’m so sorry,” said the Girl. “Yeah, that sucks, Y/N” added Johnny. 

“It’s fine” you played along. “I just need some rest” you nodded as to convince them and they nodded back.  “Get well soon,” The Girl said. “See you later, ” added Johnny.  “Okay, bye,” Doyoung said, not being able to stand himself the situation. You walked away quickly as he dragged you, then you remembered that you had to act as if in pain and slowed down a little. Johnny stared at how your fingers were intertwined with Doyoung’s ones until you left. 

_____

You were still holding hands. There wasn’t any reason to do it but it gave you some emotional support so you didn’t let go. Doyoung looked as if it didn’t bother him either. 

The night was cold but the weather was good enough to have a slow walk. 

“About that date” you started. 

Doyoung winced. “Don’t worry about that. I was joking” he said. 

“I mean” you added, “maybe we can hang out tonight” you went on. 

Doyoung didn’t say anything for a few moments and just walked staring at the dark sidewalk. 

“What I wanted to say is that if I go home my roommates are going to ask questions and I don’t feel like talking right now” you explained. You didn’t want to seem as if you were begging him to hang out with you. 

Doyoung raised his gaze. “Yeah, alright” he replied. 

You sighed awkwardly. You were still asking him for a favour. Since you met him he’s only been doing stuff for you. 

“But I don’t want to be a burden. We can go separate ways if you want to. You don’t have to-” you started to mumble as to excuse yourself. 

He tugged at your hand as to make you shut up and looked at you. 

“It’s fine. I want to” he explained. 

“Ok,” you whispered. 

Then you walked in silence. What a depressing night, you thought. 

“We can watch a movie” you talked again after a while. 

“Yeah” he agreed. 

Then silence again. 

“Are we going to the cinema, or-?” you asked as you were walking towards the opposite direction from where the movie theatre was. 

“We’re going to my apartment” he commented as if it was obvious. 

You blushed and hoped he wouldn’t see. You had no reason to feel shy about it but just the wording made you feel embarrassed. Doyoung didn’t look like the type of guy to try and kiss you or worse (!) without you being comfortable and definitely not after seeing you cry about another man, but still, you’ve never been alone to some guy’s house before, besides Johnny’s. But Johnny was your best friend. Doyoung was a stranger.  Okay, not true. He was an acquaintance. Alright, you could even call him a friend. But he was still a guy. He did ask you on a date, didn’t he? You weren’t that naive. What, you thought, what if you ended up sleeping together? God. You found yourself feeling a little hot.  But then you thought about it for a moment and something inside of you shifted. Or for lack of better words, died. And you didn’t care anymore about anything. So what if you slept together? So what?

His apartment was very nice. Like, very very nice. You walked in slowly and looked around in awe.  “So,” you started. “you’re rich?” you asked while he took your jacket.  He chuckled then breathed in as if not knowing what to say. “I guess you could say that” he replied.  “I mean, you even live alone as a student. That must be great” you commented while looking at his shelves. A few books, family photos, some knick-knacks. He went away then came back with some water. He handed it to you.  You looked at his hand and laughed before accepting the glass.  “Why do you always give me water?” you asked. But you knew the answer to that. Because you were always crying. How embarrassing. 

“What do you think of her?” you asked following him to the couch. His eyes got shiny as he turned the TV on. 

“I don’t have any opinion. I don’t even know what’s her name” he answered. You knew that he probably thought you were pathetic but you really needed to talk about it with someone.  You sighed tucking yourself under the soft blanket he retrieved from his side of the couch.  “You always say you have no opinions but I can see how judgemental you are. You can be honest about your thoughts with me” you commented. It was meant to be a light joke but Doyoung looked at you with a weird gaze. 

“You’ve said that before as well” he replied. “That I hide stuff” he added. 

You looked back at him and shifted your body weight to make yourself more comfortable. 

“I mean, I am very transparent, aren’t I?” you asked laughing. “Like, embarrassingly transparent. You’re just very reserved. You could be angry or depressed right now and I wouldn’t be able to tell” you explained further. 

Doyoung didn’t comment on that. 

“That’s a skill that comes handy in situations like before” you talked again with a smile. You didn’t mean to offend him and you wanted to express that you thought it was cool. 

“I want to be like that as well,” you said. 

________

Doyoung’s heart was about to burst. He was still holding your hand and you were holding his, and you didn’t indicate as to wanting to let go and for a moment he let himself think that you were on a date together. He saw you shivering a few times and rationally he could tell it was kinda cold but his body felt so hot that he felt like taking his clothes off. He didn’t expect you to actually follow him. He imagined you getting out of that place and just go home. But you held his hand and just walked into the direction he took. It was definitely because you couldn’t think straight. You were overwhelmed and confused. But he didn’t have the heart to be like “I’m going home right now, where are you going?”. 

So he just walked. 

Then you asked him to hang out with you. Were you really in the mood to spend time with him? Was it to just not think about Johnny? He was comfortable, you said before, and he was there. It was just natural for you to use him to your own advantage. He didn’t blame you for that.  He thought about how he would have been hurt by that outcome in other circumstances but at that moment he was feeling so tired about everything that he didn’t have any energy to be hurt anymore. Use me, he thought, just use me and get better. I don’t care. You were holding his hand and walking with him, not with Johnny and not with anyone else, and that’s what mattered. 

He was feeling pretty good while you chatted away on the couch, the movie long forgotten. Your whole attention was on him and even if a part of himself knew that it was your own coping mechanism to not think about Johnny even if for an hour, he let himself think that you were actually interested in what he was saying. That you chose him specifically and not because he was happening to be there.  And then when he saw you smiling at him that way he found himself not having any more words to say. He just stared at you staring back at him. You smiled even brighter sawing him suddenly silent.  “What?” you asked chuckling. But then he saw your pupils widening slightly and he knew that you understood. His breath grew a little irregular as you leaned in slowly and stopped as close as to let him breathe in your scent.  “Y/N” he said, almost whispering. It was meant to warn you. He wanted to stop whatever you were trying to do. But it probably sounded more like a prayer. Doyoung wasn’t sure himself what he meant with that. 

You looked at him in the eyes. His chest was aching so much. He was feeling as if underwater and your kiss was the only occasion to drink in the fresh air. 

And so you kissed him. 

It was weird but he couldn’t be present in the moment as much as his heart wanted. He felt like dreaming. It wasn’t real. He felt like grabbing air with his hands and trying to run when your feet were deep buried into the soil. 

You started off gentle, almost afraid, but that delicacy soon enough turned into something more. When he sensed you getting closer to him he didn’t stop his hands from sliding around your waist and you moved again. He heard you panting against his lips and his head was empty empty empty. 

When you straddled him he lost it. He probably whined when you sat on his lap and pressed your lips on his neck. You were warm and soft and he hugged you tight against him, wanting you closer and closer. He let you take off his hoodie, place your hands on his chest, bit down on his skin, and then, he finally looked at your face again. 

And he stopped. His breath suddenly calmed down. His head got clear. 

You looked back at him with empty eyes. He saw the moment when you understood that he caught you. 

“Is it a problem for you?” you asked. “Is this too much big of a favour to ask?” you added. 

Doyoung tried to breathe in and out. Of course. 

He knew. 

He knew until a second ago, until he felt your lips on his. 

God. 

He let himself go this way. He felt sick. 

He did think to himself that it was okay for him to be used but not this way. 

No, this hurt too much. 

How could he sleep with you when you were thinking about another man? 

“You don’t want this, Y/N. It’s not the right way to get over him” he whispered. His voice came out very gentle for once. You frowned. He could tell you were embarrassed and probably on the verge of tears. 

“I just want to get over it as soon as possible” you whispered back. 

“I know it’s wrong and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry” you added getting off him and sitting back on the couch. “I’m sorry” you apologized again. 

“It’s fine,” he said. He has been saying that for a long time now. 

But he wasn’t feeling fine at all. 

[harryandmolly]

fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *7* - final

A/N: thanks for hanging out, guys. always a pleasure 💜

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, butter, adulting

wc: 5.6k

----------

Lilly takes shallow breaths, all her tight core will allow as she carefully raises her legs back up over her head. The pressure at the crown is almost unbearable -- she’s probably still not totally strong enough to support all her weight in her core and arms like this in a tripod headstand, but she’s never been able to successfully raise her legs off the floor. So she can ignore the pesky brain pulsing. For a few seconds.

Lilly huffs and lowers her legs slowly, spread as wide as she can get them, until her feet hit the floor, taking some of the weight off her head. She unfurls to sit, blinks quickly and grins, catching a glimpse of her bright eyes and flushed cheeks in the reflection of the open glass door. Lilly straightens her back and admires herself, strong and stable, the result of a lot of hard fucking work.

She completes her practice as directed by her perky online instructor and lies in supported fish pose a little longer than usual. She rolls her hips, noticing the way it affects each notch of vertebrae in her back.

Her phone buzzes beside her mat. Her nose twitches as she fights a smile. She glances at it, though she doesn’t need to to know who it is.

Shawn: you coming?

Lilly closes her eyes and types back by muscle memory.

Lilly: shhhhh I’m zen

She rests her phone on her stomach and enjoys the way the night breeze sifts through the room.

The phone makes an angrier but muffled sound on her skin. She checks it, expecting a whining plea or a series of emojis. Instead her jaw drops and she chokes on a breath and pushes herself to sit.

Lilly knows this house as well as her own now. She traces her fingers lovingly along the hallway walls as she winds her way down the stairs and follows the music. It’s Harry Styles, which explains a lot.

The sliding doors to the pool are unlatched but shut to keep out the dreaded mosquitos. It’s past dusk now, the sky will go from cobalt to midnight soon. The pool lights make the water glow a smooth, clean turquoise. It’s interrupted by the boy in the shallow end with his arms hanging on the side, wearing a smirk that barely contains a goofy grin.

Lilly toes carefully over the gravel, hissing as it bites at her feet. The song changes to “Watermelon Sugar,” which incidentally is very appropriate, given the contents of his last text. He notices it too and that smirk gets even dopier.

Lilly shakes her head and glides to the edge of the pool, curling her opalescent painted toes over the edge. She crosses her arms and waves her phone.

“Is this a tease or an actual invitation?”

Shawn lifts a shoulder coyly. He draws a hand into the water and wiggles his fingers through it, looking casual. “Both, I guess. I got you out here, didn’t I?”

Lilly laughs and nods, glancing around. He already grabbed towels for them both when he came out here an hour ago to do laps, part of his regular routine now.

She hears movement in the water and looks down to see him wading toward her. He blinks innocently through wet, dark lashes and places a gentle kiss to each of her big toes, then rests his cheek on her feet.

“Your sushi’s inside on the counter,” he murmurs.

Lilly nods. “I’ll get it later.”

While his eyes are down, Lilly lifts her ribbed crop tank over her head and tosses it on a nearby chair. He lifts his head in time to watch her bare nipples harden in the breeze. His eyes bulge.

“Uh oh, I’m in trouble now,” he teases, kicking off the wall to float on his back as he watches her undress. She wriggles out of her leggings and panties while keeping her eyes on the hills and valleys of his torso.

As she rounds the corner of the pool to take the stairs, Shawn straightens up, sniffing and pushing his hands back through his hair. He opens his arms to her. She walks right in, tucking her arms and legs around him. His content sigh is so heavy the water ripples around them.

His hands wander her back and tangle in the ends of her hair, which looks redder and silkier in the water. Their heads rest side by side like they each need the other to hold them up. Lilly turns her face into his ear, giving his cartilage a lick and greedily sniffling the chlorine in his hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent me.”

She feels him chuckle and holds him even tighter. He scoops his hands down around her ass and starts to wade deeper into the water.

“You inspire me,” Shawn whispers, swaying with her toward the edge, where he can pin her up against the tile wall. She hisses upon contact with the cool stone and he takes the opportunity to steal a kiss.

It’s languid, exploring. She’s pretty sure he knows better than to try to fuck her in the pool. That’s only hot in movies. She thinks maybe he just missed her.

“How’d it go today?” she hums.

“Good. Mostly. There are still a few pieces that need to come together for the first two tracks and I’m still not quite getting what I want for track eight, but it was productive.”

Despite their circumstances, Lilly and Shawn have been pseudo-functional adults lately. Once the tent (as they’ve taken to calling the makeshift recording booth) went up, Shawn buckled down to focus on recording and working with producers and the other musicians tracking instruments. Lilly has finally tossed herself full time into writing, breaking for yoga and snacks and to visit him, if she’s super quiet, which she’s not, so she always gets politely kicked out after a take or two.

“How ‘bout you?”

Lilly pecks at the corner of his mouth and nods. “Also good. I almost totally rewrote that scene from yesterday but honestly I feel a lot better about it. It has some life in it now.”

“Good,” Shawn purrs, aiming his lips down at her shoulder. She smiles and tilts her nose into his hair again. Greedy, greedy.

“And… I finally did it.”

Shawn lifts his head and watches her like her face will give him a clue. In a matter of seconds, he lights up.

“Shut the fuck up. The whole way?”

Lilly’s cheeks scrunch with the effort of her smile. “The whole way. Probably killed a bunch of brain cells, but I did it.”

“Lill, that’s nuts! That’s so awesome!” he cries, squeezing her tighter, “Shit, I wanted to film it! I was gonna put it on Insta and tag you as #fitspo!”

Lilly snorts and drops her forehead to rest against his. “What a fun way to announce us to the world.”

“That I’m having really hot yoga sex with my really hot, stretchy girlfriend? I love that for me.”

Lilly cackles, dropping her head back against the stone. Shawn plods kisses up her throat.

“Will you show me later?” he asks, speaking into her wet skin.

“Not tonight, you’re going to be very busy, remember?”

Shawn goes quiet and still for a moment, then jolts with a laugh. “Uh huh, right. So busy. All night long kinda busy.”

Lilly can’t hide her squirm. Shawn gathers her in off the wall so she’s plastered against him, their noses brushing.

“That’s the best kind of busy.”

+

“Don’t headbutt me, don’t headbutt me, don’t headbutt me…”

Lilly’s quite sure he can’t hear her, even though he’s lying on top of her. He refused to get out of bed to get the phone charging cord, so he rolled over onto Lilly, his head on her chest under the sheets, as his hand flails toward the ground.

Lilly’s face scrunches up as he grunts and wriggles.

“Don’t headbutt me, don’t--”

“Huh?”

Shawn lifts his head straight into Lilly’s chin, even as she tries at the last second to tilt it away. His enormous head smacks into the base of her jaw, making her clench down on her tongue. She wails.

“Shit! Fuck, I’m sorry!”

The cord is forgotten. Shawn pushes himself up over her and cups her jaw, nudging his lips over the bridge of her nose. He pulls back after a few seconds to inspect her.

Lilly swats at him. “Fuck. God, you’re like Megamind only… less blue. I think my tongue is bleeding.”

She sticks her tongue out and lifts her eyebrows. “Ih ih ee-ing?”

Shawn looks closer. “Nope.” He cradles her face in both hands and kisses her soundly, sliding his tongue against hers, pressing a warm sigh out of her sleepy morning body.

“There, all better,” he determines, folding himself down beside her.

“That’s as close to vampirism as I ever hope to get with you,” Lilly grumbles, reaching for her phone. She allows his apology kisses as she scrolls through Twitter and brushes her toes against his calf.

Her shoulders drop. She exhales and puts the phone down. The sheet comes up over her head. Shawn follows curiously.

“What?”

She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Lover Fest is cancelled.”

Shawn makes a murmur of acknowledgement and tucks his arm around her, pulling the covers higher over both of them. The morning light is diffused through the clean white sheet.

“You kinda knew it would be, though,” he points out, sounding dejected for her.

Lilly��s face crumples into a pout. “I mean, yeah, but I just think it sucks that the universe has chosen to keep me from Taylor. My spiritual big sister. My celestial homegirl. Fate keeps us apart and its cruelty is weighing on me.”

Lilly feels safe enough to get melodramatic in front of Shawn for several reasons, not the least of which is that he, too, can pitch an impressive fit when he wants to. He also chooses not to judge her for complaining about a cancelled concert when millions of people around the world are sick and dying, of which she’s well aware. The guilt hits her secondarily, a privilege in and of itself.

“I’m so gross. I have no right to be upset about this right now.”

Shawn lifts some coppery strands out of her face and tucks them behind her ear. “You’re allowed to care about both.”

Lilly remains grouchy and unconvinced.

“Plus, the universe can’t keep you from Taylor forever, since we’re friends.”

Lilly keeps her eyes down and sucks at her front teeth. Shawn nudges her.

“What?”

Lilly’s expression doesn’t change, save for her eyebrows lifting. Her eyes remain unfocused on her legs. Shawn noses at her temple. Her eyes shut.

“Lillian, what?”

Lilly squirms and lifts the sheet over their heads, letting the world back in. She slides out of his arms and out of the bed, crossing to the chair for her cozy shorts and a big shirt.

“... nothing. It’s nothing.”

She knows she’s not getting away with it, not even close. She doesn’t want to look at him to see just how much she’s not pulling this off.

“Baby, come on.”

Lilly takes a long moment to blink and turns to face him. He’s shirtless and flushed in their rumpled sheets. She tilts her head and sighs, drifting back to him. She gets a knee up on the bed and slides her fingers into his curls. They seem to hug around them like her hand belongs there. He’s staring up at her like a woodland creature.

“Nothing. We should stop fucking and go call our moms before they realize that we’re total heathens.”

Shawn swallows uneasily but seems ready to drop it, for now. He takes her wrist to his lips and chuckles.

“My mum already knows.”

“About you, maybe, not about me.”

Shawn smirks and releases her, watching Lilly trail off in search of a cozy phone spot.

“Tell your mom happy mother’s day from me,” he calls.

Lilly looks back at him as she pads down the hall. “And tell yours from me.”

+

Lilly watches, entranced, as each pat of butter melts seamlessly into the silky pot of mashed potatoes. She’s not thinking, she’s not measuring, just feeling. Butter. Butter. More butter. She adds a whole stick before she realizes what she’s doing. Her gaze darts over her shoulder. Shawn is facing away from her at the other countertop, muttering to himself as he pulls out ingredients for Yorkshire puddings. She mashes her lips together and turns back, whisking hard to incorporate all her sins.

Cooking has become nearly as meditative as yoga recently. After spending their first few weeks together abusing their bodies in different ways, cooking feels like healing now. The grill took them a few attempts to master, and they side-stepped some potentially life threatening disasters to do it, but now they char slabs of eggplant and zucchini and ears of corn wrapped in tinfoil. They roast potatoes in the oven with fresh herbs and olive oil. Cooking brings them together at the end of the day and gives them a way to take care of each other and themselves.

Mother’s Day presented the perfect opportunity to expand their repertoires and distract themselves from missing their families. The Sunday roast was Lilly’s idea -- whole roast chicken with thyme butter, creamy mashed potatoes, roasted root veggies and Yorkshire puddings with gravy. Mother’s Day Sunday roast is a Mendes family tradition, one Shawn hasn’t been around for in a few years. He had hoped to be home for this one. Lilly decides to bring some home to him.

His arm is hard and warm, wriggling between the stove and her waist as he winds it around her. His other hand presents her with a glass of white. She accepts the kiss on the side of her neck and pretends to stir to look busy.

“Oh, hi,” she murmurs into the wide-bowled glass.

“Oh, hi,” he chuckles, giving her a squeeze, “I saw the butter.”

Lilly huffs. “Goddamnit.” She can’t shake her stupid smile though. He was watching her when she wasn’t watching him.

“Gonna kill us both,” he purrs into her skin, like he doesn’t mind one bit.

“My plan all along.”

Shawn hums in response and backs off, to Lilly’s chagrin.

“Batter’s ready, chef.”

Lilly turns the range down low to keep the potatoes warm. She turns and waves him over, gloving her hand with an oven mitt to get the hot muffin tin from the pre-heated oven. She holds it as Shawn pours batter into each cup.

“The trick my mom taught me is not to open the oven door once they’re in there,” Shawn reports with a nod, watching as Lilly closes the door and sets a timer. Lilly glances at him suspiciously.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, kid, who do you think you’re talking to?”

Shawn raises his eyebrows, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “An American.”

Lilly’s eyes bulge and her jaw drops. She swats him across the chest with her mitt, but lets him cradle her up against him anyway.

“You take that back!” she squeaks.

“I know, I’m sorry, I know you hate being reminded.”

Lilly and Shawn sit on the floor and watch the little popovers rise. They don’t open the oven door even once until the timer goes off.

Lilly puts on John Mayer again over the house speakers. They’re eating in the actual dining room today to be fancy, figuring their setting should match their food.

“He’s been soothing my achy soul lately,” Lilly sighs, dropping into her seat, immediately crossing her legs so her foot brushes up against him. Shawn nods absently but his eyes narrow a little at his potatoes. Lilly’s grin takes up half her face.

“You’re jealous!”

Shawn completes the eye roll his face was begging him for. He finishes chewing and sits back to glare at her. “Of course I’m jealous. Why is my music not enough for your achy soul? Why do you need Mayer?”

The teasing lilt in Shawn’s voice just makes Lilly laugh harder. “You love him even more than I do.”

“I do,” he sighs, “Maybe we could FaceTime with him soon and he can soothe you directly.”

Lilly feels herself going magenta. Shawn doesn’t toss around his celebrity weight, or even work his friend connections very often, but when he does, he does it with purpose. Lilly attempts to stay cool. Ish.

“I would not say no to that,” she attempts lightly, but her face-splitting smile gives her away. Shawn grins knowingly and bobs his head.

“I’ll text him. Maybe I can talk to Taylor, too, get you your own personal Lover Fest.”

Lilly’s smile falters a little. Her gaze drifts to her plate. She shoves a forkful of potatoes in her mouth. Shawn notices a shift.

“What?” His mouth is full.

Lilly swallows and lifts a shoulder casually. “I just didn’t figure you were really in a place to be asking Taylor for favors anymore.”

The song changes to a track Lilly doesn’t know. The air seems to crackle. Shawn sits forward as Lilly sits back. She manages to lift her eyes from her crispy chicken skin.

“What do you mean?”

Regret fills Lilly’s gut faster than the food. She takes a long sip of wine.

“I mean after what happened last year.”

He didn’t really need her to clarify, she knows. She also knows he doesn’t require further detail.

He comes up on his elbows, his brow furrowing. “I can probably guess what you think happened, but it’s more complicated than that.”

Lilly exhales and drops her fork, crossing her arms. Shawn looks alarmed.

“I have no doubt you can guess what I think, because you know me pretty well. And you probably also know I think it’s bullshit.”

Shawn’s eyes harden. “Lilly, you don’t know everything. You weren’t there. I don’t owe you an explanation for this, you weren’t involved.”

Lilly’s lips tighten at the corners, the kiss of death. Shawn’s shoulders tighten further, pulling up toward his ears.

“Yeah, I’m sure you think you don’t. Maybe that’s exactly what’s wrong,” Lilly jabs.

Shawn looks baffled. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re the one who’s always telling me I don’t owe everyone everything. But now suddenly I owe people every detail? It had nothing to do with me.”

“You thinking it had nothing to do with you is a huge fucking problem, Shawn! It is a privilege! No one has threatened everything you’ve built. Why would they? You’re a white man. And you sat down and shut up when she needed you.”

The muscle in Shawn’s jaw twitches. “You don’t know shit about what I did, you weren’t fucking there. Stop pretending like you know everything. It’s fucking complicated, okay? Jesus, Lilly.”

Lilly deflates and folds her hands, pressing her forehead into them. “Let’s not do this. Let’s just not fucking do this, this was supposed to be nice. Can we not? I don’t want to fight.”

She looks up at him, pleading.

Shawn doesn’t hesitate. “I want to fight.”

Lilly blinks. “What?”

He nods urgently. “I do. I want to fight. Let’s fight, let’s figure it out and get through it. Let’s fucking fight, Lill, because it’s so much better than being fucking silent.”

Lilly swallows. Her stomach lurches. Shawn does not waver.

“Fine. Tell me, then. Tell me what you did. You texted her?”

Shawn scoffs. “I didn’t just fucking text her, I called her. We talked for like an hour. And if she were here, she’d tell you that and she’d say we’re totally fine, we’re good. Because we are.”

Lilly pushes a hand into her hair and feels the tears in her eyes. “No you’re not. You’re not fine. You showed up and did the bare minimum, Shawn, you’re not fucking fine.”

His eyes get huge. “What the fuck, Lilly? You don’t even know her!”

“I don’t have to!” she cries, throwing her arms up, “I don’t have to know her personally to know how many texts and calls she got from guys like you who felt bad but wanted to stay out of the way, stay in their lane, stay out of trouble. When you look at the ratio of women who spoke up compared to men, it’s fucking sad, Shawn. And honestly, I did not expect you to land on the wrong side of that, I really didn’t. But that was just the start.”

He narrows his eyes. “The start of what?”

“You shut down. You just… shut down. You got the girl and then fucked off. You have to know that’s what it looked like to everyone.”

“I fucked off because literally everyone was telling me to. Lilly, I swear to god, if you saw the kind of stuff people were saying to me, about me, about her…”

Lilly feels a chill down her spine. She’s desperate to crawl away from this.

“Shawn--”

“Everyone hated me. Everyone hated us. What was I supposed to do?”

Lilly chews on her lip and mutters, “Maybe not post that gross make out video, for one thing.”

He inhales so sharply Lilly looks up at him. His nostrils are flared. Did he get taller in the last two minutes?

“It was a fucking joke, Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, well, you were the only two who thought it was funny.”

Shawn takes a breath and scrubs his hands over his face, then back into his hair, holding it back as he stares down at his food.

“I know the video was stupid. It wasn’t supposed to make people so mad.”

Lilly shifts in her seat uncomfortably. She takes his olive branch and returns with one of her own.

“Listen, I’m not gonna sit here and defend your entire fandom. I know better. I know a lot of the shit you guys took was unfair. But the distance came from both sides, Shawn. You alienated them, they alienated you right back. It doesn’t matter who shot first. That distance is still there.”

Shawn doesn’t argue her point. He draws a crispy corner of Yorkshire pudding through his gravy and pops it in his mouth. “I really thought the Foundation would turn it around, but it only made it worse.”

Lilly winces. “But you get why, right?”

Shawn clicks his tongue. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“It’s hollow, Shawn. It didn’t feel like you. Your heart wasn’t in it. It was like someone put your name on it and said ‘okay, guys, tell us what you want this to be.’ I mean, what is it? What do you want it to be?”

Shawn looks hurt. Lilly wonders if she should’ve pulled back a little, then thinks about what he said earlier.

I want to fight.

Lilly realizes maybe she wants to fight too. If fighting means fighting for this, for them, Lilly will get her gloves on and go to work. She steels herself.

“The whole point was to give a voice to my fans, to be the way they can make a difference. Have them act through me. That’s what I liked about it!”

Lilly shuts her eyes. “But it wasn’t your idea.”

She knew that already without him having to say it. The circumstances made that clear.

“Andrew pitched it, but I approved it,” Shawn snaps.

“Then do something with it!” Lilly cries, “Show some ownership! Show everyone you care what it means, what it does. You’ve always been so good at that. It’s one of the reasons people love you so much. Why people were hurt when you disappeared. Suddenly you were either nowhere, or you were with her. People missed you. I fucking know I did.”

Shawn’s shoulders begin to sink. The tense feeling clenching around Lilly’s ribcage loosens. Shawn reaches a hand out, face up on the table. Lilly slips hers into his and watches his thumb rub her skin.

“I didn’t know you were still paying attention,” he whispers.

Lilly lets the past several months drift over her face. “I tried not to.”

What’s left of their food is cold. Mayer’s voice feels loud in the absence of their yelling. They gaze at each other, looking and feeling haunted. Shawn is first to break the silence.

“I don’t want it to be like this. I… I don’t think I want to tell everyone everything all the time, but I don’t want it like this either. I can’t be afraid to talk to my fans.”

Lilly nods. “There’s a middle ground. You can find it.”

Shawn studies the veins in the translucent skin of her wrist. “Will you help me?”

Lilly smirks. “When you want me to, sure. But you don’t need me for that, Shawn.”

He’s silent for a long time. Lilly watches the tears gather in his eyes as they soften.

“But I do need you. I fuckin’ need you, Lill, you know that right?”

Lilly nods eagerly. “I know.”

He doesn’t seem satisfied. “No, I mean, of course I need you, but I want you. I want you so bad, all the time, every day. In every way I can have you. You make everything in my life better. And I swear to god, if you let me, I’ll make sure I can do the same for you.”

Lilly squeezes his hand. Her heart swims up into her throat and pushes out the words she hasn’t said in almost a year. “I love you.”

Shawn illuminates from the inside out. His cheeks go a vivid pink. He squeezes her hand right back and pulls it up to his lips. “I love you too, Lilly.”

Lilly cups his cheek. Her smile is small and quiet, but it’s not fragile.

The song changes. The opening notes are so distinctive, they have Shawn and Lilly smiling knowingly in under three seconds.

“See?” Lilly squawks, “John just gets me.”

Shawn rolls his eyes and pushes his chair back, holding his hand out to her. “Whatever. John may ‘get you,’ but I have you. C’mere.”

Lilly gasps, eyes sparkling. She looks to his face, then his outstretched hand, then back at his face. She’s vibrating in her seat.

“No!”

“Yes!” Shawn laughs. Lilly springs out of her chair and takes his offer before he can reel it back in. He holds their clasped hands to his chest and grins as she takes her place between his bare feet. They bob along awkwardly beside the table, cast in powder blue dusk from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Fucking finally, it’s like, why even bother putting John Mayer on if no one’s gonna ask you to dance?” Lilly crows, looking smug.

Shawn pecks the tip of her nose and pulls her closer. She rests her cheek on his chest.

“Now we see everything that’s going wrong

With the world and those who lead it

We just feel like we don’t have the means

To rise above and beat it…”

Shawn sings along and Lilly doesn’t even pretend like that wasn’t exactly what she wanted. She stares up at him, delighted by his total willingness to satisfy even the little whims she doesn’t say out loud. They don’t notice when the song changes. Lilly magnanimously decides not to step on Shawn’s foot when he says that her body, too, is a wonderland.

But she does prove it to him again later that night.

+

Epilogue

July 28th, 2020

Lilly squints up at the sky. It’s so blue that her retinas ache, but she finds what she needs.

“Look! Look, a cloud. Not safe to fly. You should stay. Come on, chop chop, bags down. You’re staying.”

Shawn drops his backpack into the trunk of the town car. His eyes are hidden behind mirrored aviators, but Lilly doesn’t need to see them to know his smile doesn’t quite reach them.

“I’m going to remind you again this was your idea,” he sighs.

Lilly scrunches her face up in protest but it doesn’t push away the tears building in her eyes like she hoped.

He’s right. It’s been almost a month since they had the first conversation about it. It wasn’t nearly as scary when it was hypothetical. It started with an innocent comment, Lilly joking about Shawn not having anything to write about if they’re together and happy all the time. 

“You need some angst. How are you ever gonna miss me enough to write about me if we’re standing on top of each other all day every day?”

Shawn brushed it off, but it took hold in both their minds. It was another full week before they had a real conversation about it. Lilly cried and Shawn stared in horror, then held her.

“We cannot become real again in a vacuum. I love you, I love this, but it’s not real life. I want you for real. I need this to be real,” Lilly pleaded.

Negotiations ran in circles for a while. Maybe they just needed a change of scenery, Shawn suggested. They could take a little safe vacation somewhere, rent a place in Malibu or Big Sur. Distance wasn’t the answer. It couldn’t be.

But distance is their reality when the world is not on fire. Lilly does not work in an industry that permits her to follow Shawn around on tour or promo. Even if she did, they agree that arrangement could get emotionally fraught pretty fast. Lilly argues they have to get good at the distance again, since that was one of the factors that broke them up to begin with. Shawn insists that if they’re lucky enough to be together and safe during this time of crisis, there’s no reason to give it up.

Back and forth, round and around and around again. There was no compromise to be made. They were either together or apart.

Shawn tearfully agrees one night. Lilly is immediately horrified.

“No. No, I’ve changed my mind. Don’t go. Shawn, don’t go. Don’t let me bully you into this. This is a terrible fucking plan. Why would you leave? Everything is good!” she sobs.

Shawn wipes his eyes and tucks her into his chest so she can cry without him staring at her.

“You were right, Lill. If we’re ever going to be more than this, we have to start. We have to get better at it.”

“But this is already so good! Shawn, if you leave now, we have no way of knowing when we’ll see each other again. Things are already getting worse. What if you can’t get back?”

Shawn’s jaw clenches. It’s the one thing they haven’t said out loud. This distance could be more permanent than they intend for it to be if the pandemic continues to worsen in the U.S. There’s a possibility that if he leaves now, they won’t see each other again in 2020.

“We’re gonna figure that out,” he insists, wiping his hard calloused thumbs beneath her eyes, “If I have to marry you to make you a Canadian citizen and get you the fuck out of here, I will.”

Lilly’s heart skips a beat even as her eyes narrow. “What a romantic you are.”

Shawn chuckles, but it’s a dull, wet sound through his own tears. He arranges his pre-flight COVID test and buys a ticket home to Toronto the next day.

Without Shawn, and with her roommates calming down and staying virus free, there’s no reason to stay in this big house by herself. They take down the recording tent and send the equipment back. They carefully pry Command hooks off the ceiling, erasing the evidence. They latch up the doors on the balcony for good. Lilly’s car is packed; she’ll head back to Burbank right after Shawn leaves.

The summer breeze ruffles his curls, which she cut again recently so he doesn’t look like a sad sheepdog when he goes home to his mum, after the allotted two weeks of quarantining at his place in Toronto. He reaches for her, and her throat immediately burns, like it was holding off until he touched her again.

“I have terrible ideas. Don’t ever listen to me again,” Lilly half sobs. Shawn folds himself around her. She clings to him, digging her fingernails into the seams of his denim shirt. She feels his shaky exhale and feels ten times worse.

“What did I do?” she hiccups, “Why did I do this?”

Shawn lays his cheek on top of her head and sniffs before he speaks. “Because you want us to be real. Because you know it’s going to be different this time.”

Lilly breathes out slowly. Shawn loosens his grip and shifts to take her face in his hands. His cheeks are patchy pink, his eyes are a little bloodshot. He presses kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her lips. They kiss until they’re dizzy.

Shawn lets go, maybe because he knows she won’t. He reaches for the door of the car to anchor himself.

“You know how much I love you, right?” Lilly rasps.

Shawn nods. “I know. You know how much I love you, right?”

Lilly’s face crumples. She can’t speak. She nods.

Shawn smiles. “Then we’re gonna be okay.”

Lilly covers her nose and mouth as he climbs into the back of the town car. She stands there until it’s beyond the gates of the driveway and out of sight.

Lilly turns and looks up at the house. It’s not the first time she’s considered the mysterious magic of the place. In its age and grandness, Lilly knows hers is not the only gift it’s given. Theirs are not the only secrets it holds. She’s resigned to never knowing the rest, content with taking what it offered and hoping they left it with some of their own magic, too, for whomever needs it next.

----------

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