#but i have just not been able to take it anywhere

[mayakern]

hiiii it's me! devin! ur favorite!

maya is still banned from doing big business things on social media while she takes time to rest and detoxify from the poison that is running social media full time for ten years. everybody clap! yay!

i'm here to share some info on our button-up shirt and dress preorders!

as many of you already know, i lost my anti-preorder campaign due to the high minimum per design. there's been some confusion and uncertainty. carsyn's doing her best but preorders are overwhelming and i have some time today

SO TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS:

how close are you to hitting the minimum goal for the button-up shirts and dresses?

not close lol. as of 4/26 we're at about 8% funded. i refuse to panic until after may 3rd

why the funeral design?

the funeral design won our design poll

initially we were going to run preorders for two designs: funeral as well as astronauts. when we got news that the minimum would be 400 garments per design (we're able to spread that across the button-up shirts and dresses) we decided to cut back to one design. we're really not big enough to expect 800 orders on an $80-90 item

why not another design?

another design did not win the design poll

what would have been chosen other than funeral or astronaut?

deadly florals, hiss from a rose, microorganisms, and hands were all the top placers in the design poll after funeral

can you do solid color?

yes

why didn't you do solid color?

you can buy a solid color button-up shirt or dress from anywhere. the plan has always been to introduce these garments in solid color after their initial introduction

...so can you do solid color?

we will consider doing solid color preorders if these preorders bomb

how much would solid color cost?

probably the same. it's not much cheaper. it's faster to make tho

how much would the ecovero viscose cost instead of cotton?

maybe like $10 cheaper

it's really soft tbh but it's a different weave from the viscose for the skirts. it's my number one fabric for the button-ups but alas the cotton fandom won for now

what happens if preorders bomb?

we cancel and refund all preorders.

maybe we'll try again with a different design or with fewer features after we have some time to decompress from the nightmare that is running preorders (can you tell i hate preorders). if they bomb bad enough we may completely nix patterned button-up shirts and dresses. we don't know yet!

does that affect the picnic top?

the picnic top is completely separate. since it's made out of a different fabric it has its own minimum, so it will not be affected by button-up shirt and dress preorders

and like, to be totally honest, it's way cheaper to produce. we can eat some of the cost and just make them. they're small enough to store easily and they're at a lower price point so we can expect to sell them after we receive them, like the wrap tops

btw, we have other ready-to-ship things already in production. we've been working on a whole secret project. surprise!

why did you launch preorders for the button-up shirt/dress at the same time as the picnic top?

the picnic top sample came in with the button-up dress sample and it needed very little alteration. also maya liked it. also we may be developing an entire line inspired by the picnic top so keep an eye out for that next spring

why is the new button-up shirt more expensive than the old button-up shirt?

it's more expensive to make

why is it more expensive to make?

this is a different factory from the one we used before. it's more expensive because they pay their staff a higher wage and likely have other costs

this is a different fabric from the one we used before. it's a stretch cotton with a GOTS certification

this is imported from a different country from the one we used before. turkey has much higher import fees to the US

what is a GOTS certification?

the short version is the fabric itself is more environmentally friendly and produced with more fair labor practices than standard cotton

you can read the long version here here

can you do fulfillment from somewhere other than the US?

we're working on it. it probably won't lower prices tho, since fulfillment centers also cost money

anyway...

none of this is to shame someone for not preordering. groceries are expensive and things are tight, plus it kinda sucks to spend on a tight budget and not get what you ordered for a few months

(can you tell i hate preorders)

i think there's a lot of surprise since we've never done preorders on a single design before, and that's fair! we debated on doing a kickstarter but a) i hate doing kickstarters b) kickstarter takes a percentage of sales and our profit margin on these is already lower than we'd like it to be

i'm tired and i can't remember anything else i wanted to say. i may answer any additional questions from my own tumblr (@punchyemblem and now i'm gonna get a notification that i'm gonna be jumpscared by) but carsyn will be handling most questions

also don't worry, when you say nice things we still show maya. also she's fine, she's just in her (forced and highly necessary and possibly permanent) limited social media era

[pierregazly]

soft for you ꨄ lance stroll

lance stroll x reader

warnings: disgusting fluff, mention of crash [1018 words]

request: could i request 3 & 4 from the 🫶🏼 prompt list with lance? [3. SMILING during a kissss >>>>> and 4. the gaze that softens as soon as it lands on you.]

note: lance taking after his dad >>> relationships come before f1 >>> this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

He was pissed. Even without hearing his words, or knowing the whole situation, you could see it in his face. His eyebrows were pinched, the sarcastic roll of his eyes after every sentence that left his mouth, both stark examples of how genuinely angry Lance was.

It had been a nightmare of a season from the first race, anything that could go wrong, having gone wrong. You knew nothing you could say or do would truly change Lance’s perspective. The car wasn’t great, the strategy was poor, and little mistakes had begun piling up, the damage to his car worse and worse almost every race.

And the first race of the season you were able to attend? Another crash, another early end to Lance’s race. You couldn’t help the grimace that overtook your face as you watched him argue with one of the engineers, his hands flying up in the air in exasperation as another eye roll was visible from your spot across the room.

Multiple people were trying to avoid looking at the conversation currently taking place, not wanting to overstep or get anywhere near the line of fire once Lance finally made his exit from the room. You couldn’t help but stare at the situation, waiting for him to finally look up, to finally make eye contact with you.

It didn’t take him long to do so once he realized he had multiple eyes on him, his brown orbs locating your own just seconds later. His face, his mere gaze, softened almost immediately, any comment from his engineer going unheard and ignored as he simply nodded his head in response to whatever he was saying. You couldn’t help the small smile that began to form on your face as he walked towards you, leaving his mechanics and engineers to stew in their own anger and frustration.

Just another little thing you could always count on. He could be livid. He could be whipping his steering wheel across the room, or shouting at whoever would listen; but he would never allow it to enter your relationship. It was one thing you admired, one of so many things you loved about him. His career, his job, it was separate from your relationship and always had been.

He didn’t talk about racing when he was with you, didn’t talk about how poor the season was going or how miserable he was beginning to become. He would talk about it when you urged him to, not wanting him to bottle it up, not wanting him to feel as if you didn’t support him when he was at his worst. But he never let it effect your relationship, never let the anger mask his love for you, or the way he treated you.

Pulling you into his arms once he was close enough, you felt his chin rest gently on the crown of your head as a loud exhale left his body. His back muscles were tense, his body practically shaking in frustration as he squeezed you tighter, trying to take advantage of all the time he could get with you.

Pulling back, you watched the corners of his lips curve as he gazed down at you. Your grip on his bicep not letting up as you observed the influx of emotions cross his features. The defeat, the frustration, the misery; they were so prevalent at first, so raw as he tried to contain them. But before long, the emotions of devastation began to melt away. The small grin on his face not wavering as he looked down on you, practically delighted to see you, regardless of the outcome of his day.

“Bonjour, mon coeur. You look beautiful, as always,” he murmured.

Smiling up at him, you stood on your tiptoes so you could press a small kiss to his lips in gratitude for his words.

“Bonjour, my love. How are you? Are you okay? Are you sore? You’re very tense,” the onslaught of questions spewed from your lips, unable to contain them as you began looking him over.

The soft grip on your cheek was all you needed to glance back up into his eyes. A faint smile still graced his face as he gently ran his thumb across your cheek. A smile still graced his face as he leaned down to press his lips against yours, prompting your own lips to curve upwards as he did so. 

“I’m fine, mon coeur. A little sore, nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I just have to deal with some media, and probably some more yelling, and then we can get out of here, yeah? I can book us reservations for somewhere, or we can just get room service back at the hotel? Whatever you want.”

“Lance… if you want to talk about the race, we can. You don’t have to be so nonchalant about it, I know you’re not happy,” you said.

Shrugging his shoulders at you, his only response was to lean down and brush his lips against yours again, the curve of them still so prominent. The softness, the gentleness, the simple adoration so evident in his every action with you.

His lips touched yours before moving on to the tip of your nose, your cheeks, the skin below your ear; a smile gracing his lips with every kiss.

“I’m not happy, but not much I can do about it. I’m not going to let it determine my time with you, though. Work stays at work, no need to bring it back to the hotel with us. So, reservations, or hotel dinner?”

Before you could answer, Lance continued.

“Dinner in the hotel sounds like a good idea, I think. Room service and some reality television sounds like a good time to me, maybe cuddle up a little and ignore the world. What do you think?”

Pressing your lips against his with a large grin, your only response was a squeeze of his bicep and a nod of your head. If he wanted to escape the world and hold you all night? Well, all you could do was say ‘yes’. 

just wanted to write something soft/loving so i hope y'all love this!!! thank you everyone for participating in my follower celebration and being lovely!!!

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

[mondaysoct]

i'm gonna get you back.

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

—content warning: 18+, mdni, fluff

—word count: 2.8k

"Damn you," he mutters. He reaches out and gently brushes your cheek with his hand.

"I just want you to look at me the way you used to. The way you used to smile when you saw me. The way you used to let me do whatever I wanted with you."

You feel your face flush with his touch. You can't help but be drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. The past few months have been filled with so much pain, it's easy to get lost in the memories of the good times.

However, you know that you can't keep living in the past. You've got to move on.

"I know it's hard. But we both have to let the past go," you say.

Even after all these months and all this trouble, he will always be your weakness. Despite knowing the relationship was bad for the both of you, you still yearned for those sweet words, and that gentle touch.

He gently brushes your cheek again, letting his fingers linger against your skin. "You can't even say you miss me, can you?"

You can feel your lips form a small smile as his touch warming your skin. Despite all the pain and heartache, there is still something about him that draws you in.

He runs a finger down your face and then across your lips. "You used to let me kiss you anywhere," he whispers.

His other arm is on your waist. He watches your lips form that smile again.

He wants you. He wants your touch and he wants your words. He wants you.

It's like your heart is at war with your mind. Feeling too many emotions—lust, love, hate, excitement, and fear. It's all mixing up, making it hard to think straight.

"Simon, we can't... we can't do this," you say, trying to pull away, but finding it all so hard.

"Why not?", he mumbles, almost desperately.

"Just one last touch. One last kiss."

"Let me have something of yours to remember."

You bite your lip and consider his request for a few long moments. The past few months have been filled with so much pain and frustration. The fact that you've held out for this long is impressive, but part of you wants to let go and give in to him.

"Just one last time," you say, quietly. You lean in and press your lips against his.

He can tell you're holding back but it's the most you've given in months.

He kisses you more deeply, slowly parting your lips with his tongue. There is a desperation that you can feel in every move he makes and every kiss he steals.

"I want more."

You pull back slightly and look into his eyes. "We can't do this, Simon. Not like this."

He looks disappointed. He's always been such a persistent, and despite his pain, it almost makes your heart melt. Although, in the moment you're angry for falling for this again.

"We can," he whispers, "we always did."

He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs loudly. "You can't deny what we used to be, y/n."

You can feel your head swaying as you take in his words. His words are like bullets in your heart, cutting through the fog of uncertainty and doubt.

He pulling you onto him, making sure you can feel every inch of his muscles and scars. He runs his hands across your back and under your shirt, exploring you with every touch.

He cups your face and whispers in your ear, "Give us one more night—one last night. I promise it'll be worth it."

"Okay," you say, as you let your body slip into his arms. "One last night."

His smile widens at your reply. He knew he'd be able to turn you around. He knew you were still his, even if it was just for one more night.

You feel his lips brush against yours and you respond in kind, sweet smile.

Then, he lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you into his bedroom. He lays you on his bed, gently pushing you down so that you're lying on your back.

And then he's on top of you, pressing his weight on your body, his teeth gently biting your bottom lip.

"I'm going to be taking care of you tonight," he promised, "just like you used to take care of me."

A part of you is happy to be in his arms again, but another part of you can't help but feel like he's using your weakness against you.

You try to push him away, but it's no use. He's stronger than you and he knows it.

"Stop resisting," he warned, slowly leaning down towards you. "I know you want this."

He runs his hand down your body slowly, teasing you. His touch feels like fire against you and, fuck, you've missed this man.

He trails his fingers back up to your cheek. "You can't deny what we had—what we still have..."

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into the pleasure of his touch. You know he's right. You want this. You've wanted him for months, even though you've been fighting it. He's like an addiction you just can't kick.

Even the slightest touch sends reverberations through your body. It feels hotter than last time, more intense.

You feel a small smile forming on your lips and you press yourself into him, kissing him fiercely.

His lips taste like whiskey, your favorite. You lean into him. Against every fiber of your being, you want this man.

He chuckles softly, deepen the kiss. It's easy to see he's enjoying this. No, he's loving this.

"What we had might replaceable." You admit, staring at him.

"Let's make sure that it isn't 'what we had' and make it 'what we'll always have'" he told firmly.

"You can't resist it. You can't resist me." He said. It's like he's casting a spell on you.

You let out a small laugh, "Okay love, you win."

"I always win," he murmurs, lightly rubbing his fingers along your hip.

He leans down and kisses you more deeply, biting your lips and pulling at you until you're flushed and gasping for air.

"You belong to me again," he remarked, "you always will..."

"Just like the old days."

He rolls you over onto your stomach, gently holding you in place. His hands roam across your back, your thighs, your hips.

His mouth finds a spot on your neck and kisses gently.

He bites you, making sure it leaves little teeth marks, but not enough to hurt.

He rolls you over again, this time landing you on top of him.

“Should I regret for leaving you?” You raise your eyebrows when asking.

"You're just as much to blame as I am," he teases. He kisses your forehead and then lifts your shirt off.

"You want this," he reminds. He knows you do. His fingers find their way to your bra and begins to undo it.

His fingers play with the clasp on the back of your bra, unfastening it. Once he does that, he pulls the bra down so that your breasts are exposed.

He smiles softly as he looks down at your breast. He takes in the sight of you, and then he leans in and begins to kiss them softly.

"So much better in person."

As he's doing so, you can feel his hands gently tracing circles around your stomach and hips. Your mouth is occupied with his kissing your breasts.

He looks at you, watching your eyes as he moves his mouth down to your chest. And he begins to kiss your breast and suck on the nipple.

After a moment he moves back to your mouth to kiss you again.

He kisses you with the passion he used to kiss you, the way he used to kiss you. He kisses you like you were the only woman he's ever known.

He moves back up to your lips, his mouth slightly wet, as he looks at you. "No one else will make me feel the way you make me feel."

“Are you sure?” You babbled.

He smiles softly as he nods. “I'm sure.”

He moves his hand to your other breast and begins to suck and nibble on that nipple as well. He does it slowly, and then he lets his mouth trail back up your chest to your mouth.

He kisses your lips and whispers, “You’re the only one who can satisfy me.”

He rolls you over again, so that you're lying on your back again. You're still slightly drunk and high on the whole situation, but you can still hear every word that's coming out of his mouth.

His fingers find their way into your panties and he slowly slips them off.

Once the panties are all the way off, he stares at you.

He's seen this view many times, but it still has the same impact on him.

“Goddamn you,” he whispers. “Goddamn you because it’ll never be the same with someone else.”

He brings his head down, slowly kissing your knees, and then starts to trail his mouth up inside your thigh, biting gently.

He's done this before many times, he knows exactly where your sensitive spots are. The back of your thighs, the backs of your knees—these areas can drive you crazy.

His mouth moves to your abdomen, he kisses your stomach and lets his tongue slip down to your stomach. He moves his mouth to the left side of your pubic area.

He takes his time—licks here, kisses there. He always be patient with you, treat you nicely like you're a pearl.

Eventually he pulls away and smiles. He moves in between your legs.

He slides your legs over to the side, placing them on his shoulders, his hands caress your hips as he moves into position.

He slowly slides you in, inching himself forward until he's all the way in.

He moves slowly, pressing into you, but only slightly, so it doesn't hurt. But his body moving against yours like this is very stimulating in itself.

At this, it's impossible not to react. Your body is being taken over by sensation, it's all you can think about.

Your hands reach up and grip his back, feeling every inch of him. It’s not even a year past, but still feels like this is your first time taking his size. The girth that stretches you out only make your stomach flip.

He continues to move slowly, not moving to quickly nor to slow. Just the right rhythm that makes you want to scream.

He's watching you, waiting for you to break, waiting for you to say 'I can't handle it anymore, I need you to go faster'.

But you didn’t, maybe you still shy after after being apart for a long time?

He reaches down and cups your breasts, squeezing them together. He moves his head down and presses his mouth against your neck, taking in your scent and enjoying the feeling of you.

"Still as good as I knew you'd be..."

He's so damn proud of himself. He knew that if he pressed you hard enough, you'd snap like a twig.

If there is one thing Simon likes to do, it's made it last. This man has a cruel ability to make you want to punch him one moment, and then kiss him hard the next.

You bite your lip, throw your head to the side, pressing the pillow, and close your eyes, trying to hold back because you know there's no way back now once you give into this.

Your mouth opens and you start to moan with each move. He slows down, just for a moment, making you want him to go just a bit faster. And then he does. He speeds things up just enough so that it hits you a bit harder than before.

You moan into the pillow, the sound muffled, but he knows just how desperate you're getting.

He leans down and bites your neck lightly, making you moan again. His tongue sliding up and down, teasing you endlessly.

He leans back and watches you, smiling as your mouth goes slightly agape and your muscles tighten and clench with every movement.

"Mhmm... f-faster please?"

He smiles. He can't believe his treatments are making you beg like this. He can't believe you're asking him for this.

With one hand now gripping your ass and the other on your back, he speeds things up just as you asked.

You're past the point now of no return. Your entire body seems to tense as it builds up inside you, until finally, just as you start to think, 'I can't take this anymore,' it happens.

You scream with the force of it as you release, the pleasure overcoming you completely. As you do, he grabs the back of your head as he continues for a few more moments and finishes.

He leans in and kisses your shoulder gently. He takes in your scent and smiles softly.

He pulls back and lays alongside you.

"Good girl," he whispers, "I needed that." He stares at your shoulder, not moving at all.

"I need that too... more than I thought." You mumble shyly.

"I miss you." You admit.

You lean your forehead against his shoulder, placing your palm on his chest.

"I miss you too," he says softly.

Your neediness is almost cute to him. A side of yours he knows so well.

"Come back to me, Simon."

"I've never left," he reassure you. His mouth meets your collar bone, and he nibbles on it slightly, making you giggle.

His hand slips back between your thighs, tracing your inner thighs, moving gently until they touch your clit as he does. He leans down further and kisses your neck again in an affectionate manner.

You can tell he teasing you again, just to keeping you aroused all the times.

His mouth dives in and he starts to lightly suck on the side of your neck.

You lean into it, your moan slipping out of your mouth.

He smiles against your neck as he lightly sucks on the other side of your neck this time. His finger rubs your clit lightly, not enough to actually drive you insane, but enough that you can feel it and he enjoys the way your body responds.

He slowly pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"Are you just going to let me torture you or are you going to let me please you?" He asks, knowing very well that you won't be able to resist.

"Please me." You smile.

He chuckles quietly.

"Such a selfish girl," he murmurs and pushes down on your hips, making you lay back a bit. He lifts your hips further until your body is completely flat against the bed.

At this position, your legs are spread slightly, offering him access to your most sensitive areas.

He stuck his finger inside you. He licks his lips when he saw your pretty reaction.

He strokes repeatedly, over and over until you're right at the edge of that sweet release you so desperately need.

"Did you enjoy that, sweetheart?"

You lay your head on his chest, you kisses the skin of his chest and whispers softly, "yes."

He glances down at you and smiles softly. It's hard to believe that your relationships were so dysfunctional once, when you're like this with one another.

There's no rush now, no need for haste. No need for all those arguments they used to have, none of the bitter fights, none of the jealousy.

You feel his heartbeat speeding up, and you can't help but enjoy seeing him like this.

He runs his fingers through your hair and caress your head. He leans his head back onto the pillow and holds you in his arms.

It might not have been the relationship you had originally dreamed of, but this is good enough.

"I love you," he whispers against your forehead.

You close your eyes and leans your head further into him. It's the first time he'd ever told you he loved you.

You smile slightly, but doesn't respond. You can only think of one thing to do.

Your hands gently reach up to his hands, which are still running through your hair, they touch his fingertips and pull them to your lips, you kiss his fingers, taking them into your mouth and sucking on them gently.

He looks down at you, he can't believe his eyes at first. The feeling of your lips against his fingertips is divine, the way you look in this moment so breathtaking.

Your eyes meet him and you stare into them a moment longer before finally whispering. "Can I stay the night?"

He nods slowly. "You can stay the night," he says, "and hopefully many more."

He smiles softly and leans his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes.

imgonnagetyouback by taylor swift keep repeating in my head ＞﹏＜

i'm not quite good at writing smut, i'm just focus on the story line... i hope you guys like this

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

Thanks for reading ♡

dividers

[myechoecho]

Queen of Tears really just took a sharp nosedive off a very steep cliff these past 3 episodes. I didn't post anything about the last two episodes since there was nothing to say. I've had issues with some aspects of the drama that I could overlook because Hae In and Hyun Woo were top tier stuff. The break down of a marriage of two people who loved one another finding their way back to each other through medical crisis was so good. It didn't even need the Eun Sung or the family business stuff (it would have made a tighter, more coherent drama but I digress). But the last 3 or so episodes I've lost all patience. We've had:

Hae In's miraculous brain surgery which required no shaving of the hair, which I can overlook because it is a drama. Her memory loss too, as again, it's a drama and it's been hinted at since the beginning. I'm not necessarily thrilled with it but it's fine.

There is no way that Eun Sung would have suddenly become her legal guardian just because Hyun Woo left. It makes NO SENSE. Hae In was clearly there with Hyun Woo. They met with her doctors. There would have been forms and documents signed, with appropriate translators for any language barriers. Eun Sung would not have been able to waltz in and say I am her guardian now. I'm fairly confident of this even without knowing German law.

Hae In's family had people in Germany following her for...reasons??? They did nothing to protect her from Eun Sung? They didn't go to her when Hyun Woo was carted off? To be fair I was kinda fast forwarding part so maybe I missed something.

Hyun Woo's arrest, extradition back to South Korea, finding the evidence to break his case, trail, release and then arrest of the real perpetrator all took place within a month. Which seems absurdly fast. Also they found and arrested the hired hit man but not who hired him??

Hae In is following Hyun Woo, taking notes to figure stuff out for herself yet does not think to look herself up on the internet? Pretty sure there would have been articles about her saying Eun Sung threatened her?

I generally forgive the burned notebook finding its way back to her.

Also, Hyun Woo's sister is married? With a kid? Living overseas?? and we find this out in ep 13 or 14? No pictures of her kid anywhere?? No phone call?

Hyun Woon has been hit by car, by Eun Sung because of course that happened. At least he won't get amnesia, right? RIGHT?

What a mess.

I still stand by the core story of Hyun Woo and Hae In being the strongest parts, even within the past 3 episodes.

How much do you want to bet they are not even going to address the miscarriage, which was catalyst for their whole marriage falling apart in the final episode. Despite the 1031 being used for pass codes. I've been wanting that from when we found out and it looks like it won't happen. Who knows if Hae In will even get her memory back.

The preview for the final episode doesn't give me much hope, even if we get a nearly 2 hr final episode like Crash Landing on You.

So much wasted potential in the drama. If only they had focused on Hae In and Hyun Woo, and not 20+ other plots.

[seramilla]

Okay Vaggies emotional turmoil I 100% understand and I am LIVING for the angst but can we touch on Carmilla, Clara, and Odette? They just learned that their daughter and sister, their BABY sister is not only alive but also a full grown adult at this time.

They missed everything. All of her firsts and all her heart breaks. They weren’t there when she needed advice. Or for any of her awkward questions. They missed getting to grow up with her. Getting to raise her. Getting to know her. I KNOW they want some way to get that family back together.

And she missed having a family. Having anyone. Unless you count the exorcist cause in a way they are her sisters.

Either way more angst for your mind. And if you write about it more content for me to consume.

Carmilla does meet Vaggie at the door to her compound this time, just as she'd promised. When the angel arrives, the district of warehouses and workers loading and unloading trucks is deserted. The street is still empty and eerily quiet. Vaggie suspects Carmilla’s people are still stocking up from the Extermination. Not much manufacturing to be done while fresh angelic weapons are still lining the streets, waiting to be salvaged.

Vaggie doesn’t even need to buzz the door — as soon as she comes within sight of the camera, the door lifts, and Carmilla is standing there. Just as tall and intimidating as ever, especially compared to her, but her eyes communicate the exact opposite of the impatience they had the last time she'd been here. Now, she really seems like she’s trying to see Vaggie, see into her, instead of like the intruder she'd been before. Vaggie shifts between her feet awkwardly.

“Umm, hi, Carmilla,” Vaggie says, making a waving motion with her hand. What was that, idiot?! Vaggie screams at herself. Why are you such a fucking putz?

"Hello, dear," Carmilla greets her, warm and inviting and so unlike that fierce warrior that taught her all that fancy footwork a week prior. Now she's looking at the angel like she has something to prove. "I'm glad to see you again. Would you come in?"

"Yeah." Vaggie agrees, rubbing the back of her head nervously, and following her inside. The warehouse is just as dark and depressing as the last time she'd been here, and just as empty. No one else is around, and Vaggie wonders why Carmilla is here on her own.

They don't go far. A short trip up the elaborate staircase, and Carmilla turns them toward a small office space at the very top. She opens the door, letting the little angel head inside first, before entering herself and turning on a light. It's much more inviting in here, with big windows and lots of natural light. The space is meant to look like a small apartment, maybe one Carmilla stays in when she's overseeing her workers. A futon and coffee table sit in the corner, with an industrial-sized desk on the other side of the room, covered with papers.

"Sit anywhere you'd like, dear," Carmilla instructs. There's really only one place to sit, other than Carmilla's big executive office chair, so Vaggie takes one edge of the futon. Suddenly, Carmilla reappears with two cups of tea in her hand. She gives one to Vaggie. "I made some tea for your arrival. Hope you like chamomile."

"Th-thank you," Vaggie says, taking her cup. She doesn't drink right away, just rubs her fingers against the rough ceramic surface for a moment, before finally taking a sip. Carmilla sits on the opposite end of the futon beside her. Both women just co-exist in the space for a while, letting the silence permeate, unsure of where to begin. Ultimately, it's Vaggie who breaks the silence.

"I was hoping I could talk to you about...the other day," Vaggie admits, still not able to meet Carmilla's gaze. Carmilla doesn't have that problem. She's staring straight at Vaggie, overly hopeful, fighting the urge to reach over to her, and grasp her shoulder. Vaggie notices the subtle shift in her movement, like she's trying to hold herself back. She smiles...it's a sad smile. One that speaks of unspoken feelings rather than genuine happiness. Vaggie wants that to change. Why is this so difficult?

"It's okay," Vaggie says, finally able to look Carmilla in the eye. "I'm not really a touchy-feely person, except with Charlie. But you can hug me, if you want."

Carmilla had gotten so used to doing it that first day in the hospital. Vaggie can tell she wants to do it again. They'd both been so confused, and desperate for one another's affection. Leaning toward Vaggie slowly, so as not to scare her away, Carmilla scooches closer to her on the futon, and puts one arm around the angel.

Like she'd said, Vaggie is not normally a touchy person, except with Charlie. She gets the impression Carmilla isn't either, except with her daughters. Even so, Vaggie turns her small body into the older woman, and falls into her embrace. Carmilla moves in even closer, short of wrapping herself around the girl again, and starts stroking her long hair, like she'd done at the hospital. It had helped calm Vaggie down then.

For some reason, the movement sets Vaggie off this time, and she struggles so badly not to cry. Pushing away slightly, she rubs her good eye with the back of her hand, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Vaggie says, ashamed at how easily she crumbles in front of this woman. She's normally made of better stuff than this. "I didn't come here to do this again. I really wanted to talk."

Vaggie keeps rubbing at her good eye, and then at her eyepatch, as if it's hurting her. She does so until the skin on her face and arm starts to turn red and raw. Carmilla pulls Vaggie's arm away, placing it between them in her lap.

"Don't." Carmilla says, squeezing Vaggie's hand. "Don't hurt yourself. I've been doing a lot of that the last few days, too. It's okay. You don't have to hide it."

"It's not okay!" Vaggie exclaims, getting frustrated with herself again. "I came here to ask questions, and maybe give you answers, too. This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"We've got time," Carmilla says, pulling her closer again. Vaggie is thankful for it. At least she can hide her embarrassment in Carmilla's chest, where she doesn't have to acknowledge her tears. "We can just sit here, and talk some more. We can do whatever you want."

Then, hesitating, not sure if Vaggie is ready yet, but Carmilla adds the caveat anyway, "My daugh--Odette and Clara will be here shortly. They've been out gathering supplies. You don't have to, but would you...want to meet them?"

Vaggie remembers Carmilla's other girls. They'd delivered Sir Pentious' weapons that day, when he still found everyone at the hotel so untrustworthy. She'd never given the two women much thought before at all, but admittedly, she is very curious now. She doesn't know what they will make of her...but if they're also family, if there's something she can learn about her would-have-been life from before...there's a part of her that really wants to know.

"Would they...be okay with that?" Vaggie asks. "Do they even know about me?"

"They know about you, yes," Carmilla answers. "I can't...say with certainty how they'll react. They are their own people. But if we want to try and make this work...?"

Carmilla leaves the statement open-ended. Vaggie gets it. These one-on-one rendezvous with Carmilla could go on ad nauseam, and a part of her is okay with that...but another part really wants to know all the extended members of her family. She's not unfamiliar with having sisters before. In a sense, all the Exorcists had been her sisters. They worked together, and trained together. Made small talk, and had each other's backs (most of the time). Maybe this wouldn't be much different.

"Yeah," Vaggie says, acknowledging what Carmilla had been trying to convey before. It won't be easy, but...maybe it's another step they can take together. "I am nervous, but...I'd like to meet them. If that's okay with you."

[kerrysdreamcorner]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩

A Love and Deepspace Fan-Fiction

Ⓢⓤⓜⓜⓐⓡⓨ

Sometimes it helps to have your boyfriend wrapped around your finger.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Fluffy Drabble

‘He must be sleeping.’ I thought, staring at the short thread of unanswered text messages. ‘Too bad.’

Leaning over the kitchen counter, I dialled his number and picked at my nails while listening to it ring. Though it was the middle of the day, I wouldn’t put it past Xavier to be taking a nap at this hour. That man could fall asleep anywhere, whenever he wished to.

He answered just after the third ring, and as expected, sounded like he had just woken up. “Yeah?”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Is this what I’ve been reduced to now? Just a ‘yeah’?”

“Oh, it’s you.” I heard shuffling in the background and wondered if he was getting out of bed. “Hi, angel.”

“Hi.” I let myself feel the shyness his nickname brought, but just for a moment. There was something that needed to be done. “Can you come down to my place? I need help reaching something.”

He yawned. “You want me to come down a floor just to reach something for you? Don’t you have a step stool?”

“Well, yeah,” I tapped the tips of my nails on the counter. “But I want to take advantage of my boyfriend privileges.”

“Boyfriend privileges?” Somehow, I could tell he was smiling and shaking his head. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you~”

Hanging up, I moved into the living room and waited impatiently for Xavier to arrive. My other neighbours were coming and going, every sound outside my apartment’s door getting my hopes up only to let them fall as the sounds faded. Then a light knock finally came.

I threw myself at the door, yanking it open so I could pull my boyfriend inside. “About time.”

“I got here as fast as I could.” He reassured with a soft smile.

“Liar.” I extended my arms and gestured to nothing in particular. “You could have just appeared here.”

“You’re right.” Xavier shook his head, but I heard him chuckling under his breath. “So, what is it you need help with?”

Stepping closer to him, I placed both hands on his biceps and rose to the balls of my feet. “It’s okay. I can reach it now.”

I pressed my lips against his, stomach twisting in delight at the soft, breathy sound of surprise that escaped him. His cheeks and ears were bright red when I dropped back onto my heels.

I smiled up at him. “I got what I needed.”

He turned his head away from me, a habit I noticed whenever I flustered him enough. “You were able to reach it all on your own.”

I scrunched my nose and shook my head in disagreement. “You were an entire floor up. I didn’t feel like going all the way upstairs.”

“So instead, you had me come to you.” Xavier’s hands caught my hips, pulling me flush against him. He dipped his head, nose brushing against mine. “Since I’m here now, you may as well take more.”

I massaged circles into his arms with my thumbs, the small space between us sparking with electricity. “Well, if you’re offering…”

I sighed as he closed the distance, letting him take the lead and guide the kiss. If he was willing to indulge me, then I’d take as much as he was willing to give.

[monstersinthecosmos]

Okay I don’t want this to be like an obnoxious millennial assumption because I’m positive that every generation has things like this, but the way autism and ADHD was treated for us in the 90’s and how it affects adult diagnoses is like, imo, so integral to our coming of age and the stories we tell and the way we’ve gotten to know ourselves, even the way it relates to our job market and economy and how we operate inside it, and especially the way a pandemic uncovered it for so many people and exposed the cracks and revealed that we were all just barely functioning and held together with popsicle sticks and anyway

I say that because maybe it’s the un-diagnosed 90’s child in me but I feel particularly emotional about Keith’s arc in learning that he’s part Galra, and the way even the creators said they made him sort of prickly because of his biology, and I just !! Think so much about Keith’s neurotype as a part Galra!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cause something about being diagnosed later in life is like, looking back at all the other ways you tried to handle yourself, all the missteps, maybe even misdiagnoses. Like, how many times did you try to treat ANXIETY without realizing you didn’t have an anxiety disorder, you just can’t deal with your family blaring the TV from the next room? How many times were you told you were lazy, or lying, when you didn’t know what executive dysfunction is? 

Keith is such a lovely rich character because his prickliness is EARNED—we know what happened to him, we know he’s traumatized, we know he’s been treated poorly by many people in his life. We know that he grew up thinking that he’d been abandoned by one of the people who should’ve loved him the most, in the whole world. He even questions that in his vlog—he makes the connection that he has trouble with people because of his mom. 

But I just wonder like, how much of it is just his biology. Not understanding the body he’s in, being completely ignorant of one whole half of his culture. Had he ever mutated before the TBP fight? Did it take him by surprise, did it frighten him? ((* This is head canon territory LMAO there’s no way to really know—like, is he able to do this because he just spent so much time with Krolia, or does Shiro going That’s the Keith I remember mean they used to have really primal sex that turned his eyes yellow? Lol)) 

Like when we talk about even the most broad generic terms of saying someone is neurodivergent, we don't even need to put a real life label on Keith. Like he's literally not human! Of course his brain looks different! Of course he functions differently! And I wonder how much is nature v nurture -- if he knew the truth about his mom, if his dad had lived, if he'd been allowed a normal childhood, would he still have been a weird kid?

Cause like, even seeing the way Shiro is able to get through to him, we see ways that he allowed for thrill seeking, and he didn't judge Keith for stealing his car. It reminds me of like, what we know now about asking children to sit still in school, and how perhaps some children would do better with standing desks. Shiro wants him to behave and succeed, and doesn't judge him for being a car thief, and gets through to him by bringing him cliff diving. And it just feels like this clue, you know, that nothing is wrong with Keith, he's just living in a weird place where people don't get him.

It’s just really special to me, because there’s so many pieces in the sequence of events of Keith’s character arc, and I know I’ve said this a handful of times now, but I really sincerely believe it’s the only thing the show really nailed. Accepting himself during the BOM Trial -> MOMENTS later learning something ver important about his biology -> spending time with Krolia -> coming back to pilot Black when he’s READY and WANTS to (unlike the first time, when he resisted) -> becoming a pragmatic strong leader by the end.

Gosh idk. 

I don’t really have anywhere to go with this, it’s just something I was thinking about today and it gets me real emotional. Like, Keith must have had these moments, re-evaluating who he’d been before he’d known, finally understanding why he was Like That, and it’s so healing to imagine him accepting his past self and forgiving it because he understands now. 

[hawkinsbnbg]

See, Eddie had always been bad at flirting if not a disaster at it. And it didn't help when he had a bad habit of going dumb around Steve Harrington—the boy of his dream, the muse of his soul, the sun of his flowers, and the light of his life.

At this point, it was inevitable that whatever he managed to say to Steve always ended up sounding awkward or worse, ominous.

"Why are you staring?" Steve cocked an eyebrow at him, hazel eyes gleaming in amusement.

They were having a movie night at the Munson’s new apartment after holding one at Steve’s just last week.

And as usual, Eddie’s attention was on the other boy, unable to stop gazing at that lovely face.

Sometimes, Eddie still felt like he was hallucinating whenever he hung out with Steve. Because, never in his wildest dream, he would see himself being friends with King Steve.

And yet, against all odds, after surviving Hell together, they had become fast friends and stayed like that for months. These days, Eddie could confidently say that he was Steve's best friend besides Robin.

Then again, he was quite sure Steve wouldn't give him The Moves™️—lips biting, eyes glancing up through lashes, knees squeezing, hips knocking, hands holding—if they were just friends.

So. Flirting.

If only Eddie was all suave and smooth, he bet they would be boyfriends by now, and not whatever that had been going on between them these last few months.

Sorry for staring but your eyes are so beautiful; they’re the most priceless gemstones in the world, sweet candies that I want to possess, a hazel sky that I want to keep drowning in, was all Eddie wanted to say.

But instead, he blurted out. "I wanna lick your eyeballs.”

Horrified, Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth before quickly correcting his grave mistake.

"Wait– I didn't mean that," he flailed his hands around in panic and tried to explain to a wide-eyed Steve. "I meant, I want to keep your eyes to myself– No, that sounds so creepy, oh my god–"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Steve straightened from his comfy position on the couch and held Eddie's hands gently. "Calm down, Eds. Just take your time. I promise I won't go anywhere."

Eddie nodded, heart beating fast under the attention of those warm and kind doe-eyes.

Eventually, he got a grip on himself and turned his hands so he could lace them with Steve. Theirs were about the same size but always fitted so well together like gloves.

Eddie looked up to meet Steve's patient gaze. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The success rate was sixty percent, which was enough for him to work with.

"I uhm, like your eyes a lot,” he cleared his throat slightly. “So can I take you on a date tomorrow?"

In a fleeting second, he feared for a rejection. But then, Steve smiled at him, sweet and pretty, and Eddie was done for.

"My shift lasts until four, so you can pick me up then," Steve gave his hands a light squeeze.

Overwhelmed with joy, Eddie pulled the other boy into his lap to kiss him silly.

Later, they moved into Eddie's bedroom to continue their making out session without worrying about being walked in on by Wayne.

He hunched over Steve with those long legs wrapping around his lower back, and kept peppering Steve's face with kisses because he could never have enough of him.

"Should've," a kiss on the forehead. "Done," a kiss on the eyelid. "This," a kiss on the nose. "Sooner," another kiss on the cheek.

Steve giggled and threaded his fingers into Eddie's hair to pull him down into another tender kiss.

When they parted again, they were both blushing and panting.

Eddie had to refrain himself from grinding against Steve, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his pants on once he succumbed to the siren's call.

Steve didn't share the same sentiments as him, however, when those legs tightened and forced Eddie to scoot in closer, making their clothed erections press into each other.

Even through multiple layers of denim, Eddie still felt the delicious friction that lit him up like wildfire.

"God, you're killing me, sweetheart," Eddie groaned and pecked those pouty lips, red and swollen like sin.

"Haunt me then," Steve whispered and rolled his hips, tempting and alluring. "Make me remember."

Eddie didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He just surrendered himself to the siren's call and got lost in the sweet paradise that was Steve Harrington.

Afterward, as Eddie was stroking Steve's naked back absently, he pressed a kiss on Steve's forehead.

"Think we should take it slow, baby?"

"If that's what you want, Eds," Steve shrugged slightly. Then, in a small voice, he glanced up from where he was pillowing on Eddie's chest. "You'll tell me if I move too fast, 'kay?"

"The last thing I'm gonna complain about is you, baby boy," Eddie snorted and tucked a stray hair behind Steve's ear. "I just wanna hear your opinions about our relationship is all."

This time, it was Steve's turn to snort. "Haven't been on a date yet, and here we're already talking about our relationship."

"Yeah," Eddie chuckled. "We're kinda doing things out of order right now," he gave Steve's forehead another small kiss. "But you were an impatient little thing, sweetheart. Can't imagine what you would've done to me if I hadn't given in earlier."

"Don't pretend like you haven't been desperate to lay your hands on me," Steve rolled his eyes with a quiet huff.

"Keep doing that and you're gonna see how desperate I am, doll face," Eddie said huskily.

"Is that a threat?" Steve raised his eyebrow in challenge, hazel eyes gleaming impishly. "Because it's not working on me, honey."

Eddie's lips stretched into a wide grin and before Steve could taunt him again, he started tickling the other boy.

In the end, Steve had won the tickle war and Eddie had blown him off as a reward.

To no one’s surprise, they managed to go through another round, and by the time they finished, Steve was too out of it to tease Eddie anymore.

The morning after, he had woken up with Steve in his arms.

Once Steve roused, they had made out a bit too long in the bed, exchanged toes-curling handjobs in the bathroom, and had breakfast together with Wayne before leaving for work.

When the time rolled in, Eddie might be a bit too eager to give Steve everything, because he had gone a little overboard for their date night.

But all in all, Steve had enjoyed the dinner Eddie prepared and given him the most legs-shaking blowjob ever when they were watching TV on the couch.

Later that night, listening to Steve snore blissfully in his arms, Eddie decided that the date was more than a success.

[sos-smp-headcanons]

This is more of a prompt than a hc but i still wanted to share.

fWhip was so tired, the fates have been to cruel to him. He's been trying to give advice on how the human body work on how to tale care of it. They ignored him

Now he was weak on someones arms and half awake. It felt nice, he feels a hand in his hair and hear voices alot of them. But that doesn't matter now. He wanted to sleep, just sleep.

Sausage wants to have a talk with the fates. Scott will kill the first one he sees. (To be clear Scott is the one holding fWhip and Sausage was the one petting his hair)

- Ghostie anon

All he could see was the ceiling now. There was a dull ache in the back of his skull that rang of the familiar pain that accompanied concussions. fWhip couldn’t tell how long it had been since there were people around him. They weren’t there as far as he could tell right now, but he could feel bandages around his knees and chest, and a damp towel rested on his forehead that plastered hair to his skin.

However, Sausage’s voice entered his vicinity not long after. His entrance was accompanied by a string of very colorful Spanish as he slammed a door closed.

“Sausage, easy. They’re gods, it’s not like we would’ve been able to fight them anyway.” Scott seemed much closer to where he was, a tinge of panic audible in his accent.

“That doesn’t mean they should just be able to do that to him with no problem!” Were they talking about him? Did they try to talk to the Fates?

“I know, I know. But that won’t do anything. The best we can do is help him right now.” There was a faint grumble in return before he heard footsteps approaching and he craned his neck as best as he could to look at the door.

Scott paused upon noticing him, “Oh good, you’re awaken finally..” He took a stance by the side of the bed, elevating his head with his thighs. “Any pain anywhere?” Sausage was hovering nearby, unsure if he should touch him or not before ultimately deciding on sitting next to the bed.

“I’m fine but, what were you two talking about? You didn’t antagonize The Fates, right..”

Both of them avoided his gaze.

Sausage was the first one to speak again. “They hurt you.”

“That doesn’t matter-“

“Yes it does!” Scott immediately interrupted. “They have the nerve to hurt you after you taught them how to properly take care of your body, and if someone doesn’t tell them off, they won’t stop. You’re too important to me.”

Sausage gave him a look and he added on, “To both of us. Everyone.”

fWhip’s eyes squeezed shut, blood rapidly rising to his face as he drew in a breath. “You..” He groaned, shifting himself onto his side and looking down at Sausage. “I appreciate it. Don’t do it again.”

The brunette just gave a slightly smug smile, “Got it!”

“Scott?”

“Sure.”

“Good..now both of you please just lay down I can’t hug you.”

(Read tags)

[layersofsymbolism]

I'm not really sure how to introduce this one. It's a continuation of the Zevlor story that's quickly becoming a novel. But I'm posting it for you guys because it's kind of a snippet. It's after we find our man in the illithid colony, and he finds out what happened while he was enthralled. A brief warning. There is some angst, emotional pain, a little self-harm, and major feelings here. No smut in this one. It's also a pretty long scene. I did cry while writing it. I'm not sorry.

Tav is based on my current, who is a noble high elf silver dragon disciple. Highfalutin, I know, but that's what was in my head.

You approach Gale with a bit of trepidation. You're not sure if he'll agree, or even if your idea will work, but you have to try. Zevlor needs his people on his side. Or, at least, for them to understand what actually happened in those dark lands, when he was taken by the Absolute. But you couldn't be the one to do it.

As you move to stand near the wizard, sitting cross-legged on a mat and reading some dusty book you'd found in the house of healing, he looks up and smiles. "Greetings, Tav." Seeing the expression on your face, he rises with a look of concern. "My, you seem agitated. How can I help?"

You bite your lip and take a breath, then speak, your voice tight and apologetic. "I need a favor. If it's not... if you can manage it." 

He nods, taking your hand and pressing it. He can be so sweet sometimes. "If it is in my power, I shall do my utmost. What do you need?" 

You nod and squeeze his hand, grateful for his friendly devotion. "How are you with... mental domination?" 

His eyes widen a little, but he smiles. "I can cast the spell. Depending on the intended victim, I suppose I could maintain it almost indefinitely, as long as there are no other distractions. The power and duration really depend upon my concentration and the target's resistance. But so can you. Why? Who are we dominating today?"

You worry your lower lip with your teeth again and shake your head before continuing. "It cannot be me. They all know... look, Gale. We both know how powerful the elder brain is... with an unprepared mind, it would be almost impossible to resist its influence. Is that right?"

He nods slowly. "Yes, of course, but... oh, I see." He catches on quickly, you reflect, as he works out for himself what you want. "Let me see if I can guess your thought process. I assume this is in reference to your Hellrider and how his people have been treating him since... all that. You want to show them that what happened was not his fault, and you think a little demonstration of that kind of power would be a good way to do that. You can not perform this feat yourself because of your known association with him, so you want me to make a tiefling stand on one foot or something to demonstrate how easy it is to lose oneself in the face of strong magic." He ruminates for a moment, looking thoughtful, then shrugs and smiles. "I don't see that it could hurt to try. Courtesy dictates that I must warn the person I am to control, but even then, I should be able to hold them to my will for some time. May I involve another of our group?"

You nod. "If you think it will help. I can't really keep secrets from any of you anyway. Who are you planning to bring?"

He squeezes your hand and nods decisively before releasing you. "I had a thought to take Karlach with me. She's a tiefling, and she well knows how it is to be compelled to do things she doesn't want. I will go immediately. I saw a group of refugees in the inn recently. I imagine they haven't gone anywhere. I shall do my best to make them understand. Who is the intended target?" 

You watch Gale as he nearly bounces on his toes, seeming eager, as always, to demonstrate his skill. "Whoever is the strongest. But... well, don't hurt anyone or humiliate them too much. Just... never mind, you know what to do. It is in your capable hands."

Gale grins and bows. "My lady, I live to serve. Rest a while. You've been burning the candle at both ends lately, and you're a bit overwrought. Stay near. I'll come find you when I'm finished."

You watch him as he heads off to find Karlach and the other tieflings. You are overwrought, nervous, your concern over Zevlor and the refugees, the remaining Chosen, and the Elder Brain mingling and draining your mental faculties. You wander back to your own tent, sitting on a cushion just outside the flap and trying to meditate for a little while to clear your head. 

After what seems like ages, but is probably closer to half an hour, you sense Gale and Karlach returning, open your eyes, and struggle to your feet, trying to read their expressions. As they draw near, you can see that they are both smiling. Gale with an expression of satisfaction and Karlach a cheeky grin, bouncing a little as she approaches. She looks around when she arrives, before speaking at half her normal volume. "It worked! You're a genius, Tav. Cal volunteered. He hopped on one foot and everything! Gale was even going to make him slap Lia, but I stopped him, so he grabbed Dammon with the spell too and made them dance together! There was nothing they could do about it." She slaps Gale on the back, and the wizard wheezes, but looks pleased nonetheless. 

"Yes indeed," he continues with a smug expression. "Rolan has the strongest mind, but I do not think he would have taken my meddling with it lightly. So I thought maybe, if I dominated two of them at once, when they were prepared for it... and I made it quite clear that my powers do not nearly match those of the brain. I think it's had the desired effect. I believe Tilses went to look for him. She has been on his side the whole time anyway, and the others seem prepared both to apologize and forgive."

You blow out a breath and sag with relief. It was a long shot, and could have gone quite badly, especially with Rolan being so protective of his siblings... But hearing that your plan had worked was a welcome bright spot in an otherwise trying day. You pull them both into a hug, Gale grunting with wounded dignity and with the pressure of the grinning tiefling’s muscles crushing you both, thank them profusely, and then head off to look for Zevlor. Maybe this news would help with the deep depression he'd been struggling with since you rescued him.

The soft call of the scale you'd planted on him leads you toward Rethwin Town. As you approach the mason's guild, you see that Cerys, as well as Tilses, are standing near the doors, heads together in a fervent whispered discussion. You are opening your mouth to greet them when you're startled by a crash from inside, and the crunch and rattle of splintered wood. Cerys notices you first, and waits for you to arrive with a concerned expression. They're both looking at you nervously as another burst of noise echoes from beyond the half open doors, causing them both to flinch as you hurry over. 

Noting your concern, Tilses raises her hands, palms facing you. "He's not in any trouble. At least, not from fiends or undead. His only enemy is... well, himself." 

Your eyes widen. "Zevlor is making those noises?"

She nods, voice low, "yeah, the Commander is in a state at the moment. We came looking for him and heard the crashes... we thought he was being attacked. But... He's alone in there. At first he was shouting about being weak and unworthy, but then... well, he just started tearing the place apart."

You turn to go into the building, but Cerys catches your arm. "You might not want to go in there, Tav. He's unhinged. I've never seen him in this mood before. He might be... dangerous." 

You smile reassuringly and pat her hand. "He won't hurt me." Though, with the sounds coming from beyond the doors, you're not quite so sure as you pretend. "Go back to the inn. Please. If... if anything goes wrong... I can defend myself, but I don't want you in the crossfire. Just in case."

They exchange a long look, but then nod. "Very well," Tilses says quietly. "If anyone can help him, it's you. We know him, but he may be embarrassed... I know he thinks very highly of you." She grips your arm, a plea in her eyes, and then she and the other woman move off, looking over their shoulders once or twice. You wait until they are out of sight, and then take a deep breath and turn toward the doors. 

It is dim and dusty in the building, golden motes drifting through the newly revealed sunbeams that are filtering through holes in the battered roof. There is a flurry of movement in the back room, and you pass through the second set of doors just as Zevlor seizes a thick, rotten log from a cradle by the ruined fireplace and rips it in half with his bare hands. He casts the pieces aside and paces the width of the room, his hands shoved into his hair. There is blood on his face and hands, spattered on his dully gleaming armor, and a wreck of shattered crates and tools is scattered about. Your heart aches for him, but you hold your tongue for a moment as you sidle through the door and stand next to it, leaning your back against the wall. 

He doesn't notice you at first, so great is his distress, and in the relative quiet, you can hear him whimpering to himself, his voice hovering on the raw edge of sanity. "I tried. I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough. They're dead. They hate me. They're right to hate me. It's all my fault. If I had only been stronger..." He grabs another crate and sends it hurtling into the stone wall, where it explodes in a shower of splinters and small nails. You turn your head, but don't move, feeling a few shards pepper the side of your face. He turns back to pace in the other direction, stumbling and nearly falling over as he finally catches sight of you. He freezes and his eyes go wide, orange rings in deep black, shining in the gloom. His mouth wags for a moment, but then firms as he turns his face away. 

His words are a low, pained growl when he finally speaks. "You shouldn't be here." His hands flex, and you see that some of his claws are broken, his fingertips bloody. "I couldn't bear it if I... I  killed them. Leave, before I..."

You stand away from the wall, approaching him slowly, staying well out of his reach, but preparing a shield just in case. "We both know that's not true," you say quietly, your own hands wringing at your robes. "You weren't in control of..." 

He cuts you off with a roar, swinging his fist until it meets a supporting beam with a loud crack of splintered wood. The edifice sways, and dust and bits of ancient birds nests filter down from above. He's not a big man, but in this extremis he's terrifyingly strong, and you hope he doesn't manage to bring the whole roof down on your heads. "But I am responsible! I led them, it was me that... I..." He winces, looking at his hand in confusion, and you see the flash of white bone peeking through his scraped, ruby skin. Dark blood drips onto the floor from his torn flesh, drops scattering among the dust and ashes. "I wasn't good enough for them. I'm not strong enough, couldn't resist her. They're dead because of me. You don't want to associate... I've failed everyone. You deserve someone who..."

He stands there trembling for a moment before looking up and quickly striding toward you, raising his wounded hand to shove you back against the wall, your head hitting the stone so hard you see brief stars drift across your vision. He's on you in an instant, mouth crushing yours, bloody fingers pulling at your clothes. You feel all of his rage and shame and desperation as he kisses you frantically, his teeth cutting into your lips. You let him tear at you, neither returning his violent kiss nor trying to push him away. You're slightly dazed when he suddenly gasps and rips himself away from you. He pants, eyes blazing... "Gods I... I'm... you see? Im no good to anyone. I could have..." He reaches out as if to touch the drop of blood oozing from your bruised lips, a horrified expression on his face, but the lowers his eyes and drops to his knees before you. He covers his face with his hands and keens. "You don't want to be near me. Nobody wants to be near me. I see their faces when... you should leave me. I could never... never be good enough for... I'm not the man you..." he stops, shaking silently in the dust, ragged breaths filtering through his hands. 

You stand still for a moment, stunned, but then slowly let yourself sink to the floor, sliding your back down the wall until you’re sitting before him. You keep your tone gentle, "I am perfectly capable of judging for myself what kind of man you are. Here." You reach out and, ever so gently, ease his hands from his face, being careful not to put pressure on the broken one. He resists at first, but then relents. You inspect his bloody hand, lamenting to yourself that you cannot heal him, but you let coolness flow from your fingers, hoping to soothe him and ease the pain into numbness. "Hold still," you say as you release his fingers and reach beneath the hem of your robe to tear a strip from your linen under tunic. He flinches at the ripping sound, but keeps his hand stretched out before him, breathing harshly. You carefully wrap the linen around his hand, sinking a deeper cold into his inflamed flesh as you delicately press on the exposed little bone, easing it back into place and pinching the skin together before wrapping his palm firmly and tucking the end of the makeshift bandage under itself. You cradle the wounded appendage and reach out with your other hand, cupping his cheek lightly. His eyes are wide, sparkling with unshed tears, his mouth working in shock, lip trembling. You lean forward a little to hold his eyes, keeping your voice soft, soothing, "you do not have to carry the world on your shoulders, my love. Let me take some of the weight. Come here."

A silent tear tracks down his ravaged cheek, but he allows you to draw him toward you, laying his bandaged hand on your lap and shifting him so he's sitting before you before pressing his face into your shoulder, lifting your chin to avoid his horns. He curls his tail around himself and hesitantly wraps his good arm around your back, and you hold the armored tiefling close as his lean frame hitches and trembes with silent, heart-wrenching sobs.

The fading beams have crawled a long way up the wall before a low voice nudges you out of your doze. "My. Aren't you two a mess." Zevlor is cradled in your arms, having fallen into a deep sleep after crying himself out. Shadowheart crouches next to you, her expression unusually soft, and looks you over. You know you must look shocking, with your lips bruised and cut, and little streaks of dried blood on your face, your eyes puffy from weeping with heartache over Zevlor's pain. She reaches out and brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes, dropping her voice to a quiet whisper. "We saw the other two return, but it took a while to get it out of them. We waited as long as we dared, and then I came because, well, I'm the most subtle." She smiles. "Good thing too. You look like you both could use a little attention." You nod and shift slightly, letting her see Zevlor's hand, wrapped in the bloody bandage on your lap. He tenses a little, tightening his grip on you and murmuring into your robe, but doesn't wake, such is his exhaustion. Shadowheart reaches out, very lightly touching her fingers to his, and whispers the spell. His breath hitches and he shudders as the tingling power filters through him, but then sighs, seeming to feel the relief even in his sleep. She heals you next, the sensation making your skin prickle with gooseflesh, but you feel the small cuts close and the bruises fade.

"Thank you," you mouth silently, and she nods, leaning back on her heels. 

"We will leave you alone as long as you wish. We just wanted to know you were safe." Her expression becomes thoughtful. "You love him." Her own nod follows yours, and she reaches out to brush one knuckle down your cheek before standing. "I'm happy for you. Truly. I will tell the others you are both alright. Take as long as you need. You deserve to be happy." Her smile is almost sweet as she turns away and silently exits the room. 

The last light is fading when Zevlor stirs against you. Slowly he turns, easing himself around in your grasp until his eyes, just a flicker of fire in the darkness now, gaze up at you. His voice is a husky whisper, "did you mean it? What you said, before. You called me... or, maybe I was dreaming." He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, a soft, happy sound. "If so, it was a wonderful dream."

You look down at him with a soft smile and bend your head to place a light kiss on his full lips. "I did. And you are. Ai armiel telere maenen hir, Zevlor, and I can only hope you feel the same." He sits up, keeping his arm about you and chuckling softly, looking at you with undisguised adoration. 

"I don't know what that means, but I think I can guess. I can see it now, in your eyes." He cups your cheek with a gentle hand. "Are you certain this is what you want? Me? Because, I know... my heart is yours for as long as I draw breath. I love you. So very much." You nod yes, and he slowly leans toward you, taking a deep trembling breath before pressing his lips softly to yours. 

Zevlor kisses you chastely for a little while, his lips and hands full of tenderness, before placing a kiss on your forehead, and then resting his own against yours. "Very well, my lady. Together, then." His words are a feather brush against your lips. "But you need me at my best if we are to prevail in this... I will seek the Oathbreaker Knight."

[silvantransthranduiltrash]

Silvans find Maglor, part 1 (my au)

Legolas didn’t know how he got into this situation. He doesn’t know how he ended up in Imlardis, practically begging Lord Elrond to take his dad back because Maglor would. Not. Stop. Wailing. 

He would like to blame Lasgen for the problem. But then he’d have to blame every single elf that was on her squad when they were doing a routine check up. And then he’d have to blame all the elves who had a hand in healing Maglor, and all those who agreed to keep maglor in Mirkwood. And his father because, elf who gave birth to him or not, Thranduil was a little shit who had no problem putting his kids into the line of fire.

All to say that everyone had a hand in what lead up to the current situation of Legolas trying not to loose his mind over the pure bullshit fate liked to spit at the Silvans.

Akami help him, he was to sober for this.

-----------------------------------------------------------

I suppose we should go back a few months in order to explain exactly how we ended up here.

It was a standard routine survey of the coasts of Middle Earth, simply to see if there was anything the silvans needed to keep an eye on in addition to Sauron and his bullshit, and some of the Avari sects that the Silvans didn’t have an alliance with. 

Being a silvan was hard, don’t let the Noldor tell you otherwise.

Lasgen, oldest child of King Thranduil, was leading the party at a steady pace along the beach. The sun was shining, the wind was a nice breeze, it was fucking hot but you wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at the scene.

And the narrator is sleep deprived so if the narration doesn’t make any sense, she doesn’t care. I assure you.

Where was i? Oh yes. The weather. It was horrible, but Lasgen and her warriors kept on moving. And eventually,

Eventually, they came across a mound of ratty hair, scrappy cloth, and dried up seaweed that stunk more than a skunk with diarhea. Lasgen was debating simply ignoring the offensive smelling mound or practising some civic duty by shoving it into the ocean or burning it when an unintelligible garble rose from the pile. She supposed that it could sound fagually like a song, if you took ten steps back, cocked your head, closed your eyes, a payed attention to only every second note. 

Grimacing, she brought the group to a halt before disembarking from her horse and slowly approaching, trying desperately not to inhale anywhere near the abomination.

She grabbed a stick and poked at the pile. One poke, two poke, three poke. Groan. 

Ok so there was definitely something alive under all the ratty scraps.

She held her breath before quickly reaching forward into the pile and yanking at the solid mass in the center.

An. elf. 

There was an akami forsaken elf. In a pile of such disgusting stench it made horse poop smell nice. 

How was there an elf there? Why was there an elf there? Surely they would have at least managed to keep themselves moderately clean or in contact with one of the elven settlements. They weren’t even that far from the nearest one, surely they would have been able to make it to the harbors if they tried.

Wait.

Wait.

WAIT.

An elf. Near the ocean. Looking like the gods themselves went out of their way to trash him. Making weird gargling noises that could, barely, pass for music.

“Oh my god, why do i always find the weird ones?” Lasgen looked to the sky, begging for an answer she knew would not come. She turned to her squad, who had abandoned her to the stench and stayed a nice distance away. “Please tell me one of you has some nice deep reaching scents on you that will make it bearable until we reach back home. And some clothes? Anything to make this sad bag of bones more bearable.”

[hlficlibrary]

hi!!! was just thinking about a fic I read inspired by chicago (the song) but I don't remember a lot, harry had a kid but I'm not totally sure if it was louis' and never told him or if it was someone else's who wasn't in the picture. louis was on tour and harry wasn't famous. it did in fact happen in chicago if i recall correctly. it was a relatively short fic, wasn't chaptered. I don't know if you'll be able to find the exact one I'm thinking of since it's a pretty vague memory but I was wondering if you could give me some recs that were based on the song, please! I've seen a few but never got around to read them all. thank you!

Hi, anon! You're so welcome! You have come to the right place. lol. I wrote a Chicago fic myself and I'm obsessed with both the city and the song. So here is your Chicago (song) fic list and hopefully one of these is the one you're thinking of!

Chicago by @hellolovers13

They hadn't seen each other in four years, why was Louis still writing songs about Harry? Larry take on the song Chicago

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

Chicago by likelarry

Harry Styles is one of the fashion industry's best models and Louis Tomlinson is a world renowned rockstar.

In the midst of Louis' world tour, Harry finds out he's pregnant.

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet In Time (Is That True For Yours And Mine?) by tippitytap

When Louis and Harry met in college, it seemed like the rest of their lives were sorted: Even if the future was uncertain and their careers could take them anywhere, at least they had each other for the rest of their days.

Or until the break-up.

Now, three and a half years later, neither Harry nor Louis are over the other when they unexpectedly run into each other. Slowly, and with a lot of work, they should be able to find their way back to each other. Right?

The Chicago AU.

I want to wake up where your love is by @marcythesassykitten

“Kinda feels like it is, though. And it’s okay to be pissed at me because of that,” Louis' voice was still the normal feathery sweetness Harry was used to, but it had a harshness to it that he couldn’t place until he looked up and met Louis’ eyes. There was so much pain exposed for Harry to see, for him to be able to pick at, taunt or ignore.

Louis was sitting right there, allowing Harry to see all the broken pieces, the sharp edges that had never been mended back together with the love and kindness they needed. In that moment, Harry saw his own pain reflected back at him in Louis’ eyes. He could feel bits of his own heart calling out for him to reach out and allow the two battered hearts to heal together as one.

“It’s not. I’m not… I’m really not,”

or, a chicago-inspired story about lost dreams, unjust fates, undying love and lots of pizza, repressed feelings, cute kids and, of course, cats

just wasn't meant to be by headabovethewater

Harry listens to Chicago for the first time.

[weathernerdmando]

I do have on thing to say about the fact that "one of the passengers is a 19 year old" for the Titan.

A 19 year old is still a "teenager" but that is a whole ass adult. That is an adult who has been an adult for a year and acting like he has no self agency to not make the choices he did is just ridiculous and I'm seeing *way* to many people on this site pretty much just infantalize him. 18 is *also* an adult. A new adult, but still an *adult*. If you are seriously in the mindset of "but that's a child still!" You need to step away from Tumblr and just think about how you view the various human stages of development.

19 year olds aren't kids. That man made that choice to go down there.

(also as a trans man who's rights are under attack and that people are using the argument of "kids can't consent" to get their foot in the door and then further take them away from literal adults, some under the argument of "well a lot of y'all are autistic and Don't Really Understand what's happening even though you're adults!!" This shit infuriates me. Stop infantilizing people!!! This may not be about my rights as a trans person but the issue of infantilizing literal adults is still the same!!!)

[hellbatschilt]

Recently organized, and added new stuff to my Yokai Watch collection!!

[silenthillbunni]

🐁☁️🌫️