#i mean all i did was trace the cover art of a song so i don't think that counts

[dyk3-on-a-byk3]

made a lockscreen :]

[bratzforchris]

bed chem-m. sturniolo

SUMMARY: in which matt is looking a little too hot in his new tiktok

PAIRING: n/a

WARNINGS: masturbation (f)

WORD COUNT: 654

A NOTE FROM LILAH: i love sabrina carpenter so much that's actually my wife if you were wondering

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅Manifest that you're oversized I digress, got me scrollin' like Out of breath, got me goin' like

You laid in your bed, scrolling through Matt's TikTok account yet again. Did you have better things you could be doing on a Saturday night? Probably. But that didn't motivate you to get up and move. Instead, you continued to watch each and every video, biting your lip shyly when you noticed a video in which Matt's bulge was clearly visible in his baggy jeans. The more you scrolled, the heavier your breaths became, the knot in your lower stomach slowly tightening as your eyes trailed from Matt's happy trail to the waistband of his jeans and beyond.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent? Ooh (Ah) Maybe it's all in my head

Just as you were about to close the app out for the night, a notification appeared at the top of your screen. @mattsturniolo just posted a new video it read. You smiled to yourself, immedaitely clicking on the notification and navigating to the video. The TikTok showed Matt in a white jacket and baggy jeans, lip syncing along to a song you didn't know, by an artist with a British accent. All it took was one play of the video, and your breaths were increasing in speed again. He looked good. He always looked good, but today was different. Maybe it was the song, or the jacket, or the tousled hair, but whatever it was, it had you slowly trailing your pink, manicured fingers underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts and the elastic of your underwear. No one was home right now, so you were free to let your imagination wander...wherever it would take you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ But I bеt we'd have really good bеd chem How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round Oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things That's bed (Bed) chem (Chem) How you're lookin' at me, yeah, I know what that means And I'm obsessed

Your fingers slowly began to trace circles on your already swollen clit, the thought of you and Matt tangled in silky sheets together playing in your mind like a movie. You could imagine the way he would pick you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he carried you to bed. He'd practically tear your lacy thong off, throwing it somewhere on your bedroom floor. Maybe he'd even turn you so that you were facing a mirror; the more you thought, the faster your fingers pulsated against your clit, your folds already slick from the mere thought of Matt. You could practically hear him whispering the dirtiest, most depraced things in your ear as he took you from behind, forcing you to watch yourself get absolutely railed in the mirror. You thought about the way you'd be able to see him smirking, those oh-so-blue eyes that you had fallen in love with when you'd first started watching the triplets would be alight with the mischief of making you accommodate his cock. In short, you were absolutely obsessed with the idea of Matt fucking you, and the way you began to pump your fingers in and out of your dripping pussy was physical proof of that.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅Come right on me, I mean camaraderie Said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be Where art thou? Why not uponeth me? See it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy

Your mind flipped scenarios as you began to grind your hips against your bed, fingers working overtime on your clit and pussy. Matt was on top of you now, thrusting into you roughly. He'd have his head buried in your neck as he pulled out quickly, thick, white spurts of cum covering your stomach as he whimpered in your ear. You knew it was stupid, but you didn't care. Rationally, you would always be just a fan to Matt. Hell, you didn't even live anywhere close to even having a remote chance of meeting him. Part of you even wondered if he would want you in the way that you wanted him. You were pulled back into reality by the ache in your lower tummy that was begging you to stop edging yourself. You once again thought about Matt on top of you, his tattooed arm holding you down as he pumped into you, desperately chasing both your and his orgasm. You could see it in your mind so clearly, making you wish Matt was here to fulfill your wildest fantasies.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Ooh (Ah) Who's the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad mm? Like

Your legs violently shook as you fingered yourself, your clit throbbing wih each thought of Matt you had. Maybe he'd even finger you himself, the cool metal of his rings being a drastic contrast to his warm hands as they pumped in and out of you, encouraging you to take the punishment with faux "tough guy" façade. Those bright blue eyes would crinkle as he watched you squirm underneath him. That was the thought that sent you over the edge. You finally released, covering your fingers in your cum. You knew that all Matt would ever be to you was a fantasy, but for now, you enjoyed the feeling of thinking about the chemistry in bed between the two of you.

tags ♡: @blahbel668 @mattsturnswhore @sofieeeeex @jetaimevous @pkfferoo @idekman1231 @svphscc @littlestar44 @https-roman @flow3rsturns13 @supercoolgirl69 @hearts4chriss @urprobablyscuffed @pepsiluvr0209 @vsigishishis @addiestarx @sturn1ololuvr @sturnclouds @memea32221 @hoes4matthew @whoreformatthewsturniolo @facingreailitysgravity @sturnsmia @sturnobsessedwh0re @sturniolos-f4n

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[overnowsfcb]

worth it for once; pedri

summary: sometimes the show must not go on. what happens when the curtains fall?

warnings: angst, smut (dom!pedri, pool sex, hickey, blow job (v), masturbation and self-masturbation (p), pet names) mature language, abuse of alcohol, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional distress. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 5.9k

note: hi! first of all i wanted to thank everyone who interacted with 'halfway out the door', you don't even know how much it means to me that people can read my stories. i knew i said i would do some fluff, but i feel like im not good at it. i cant seem to let the reader be happy can i? (this fic is so long i feel like i got a bit carried away)

p.s.: this is my first time ever writing smut, im sorry if its too bad. also! 'halfway out the door' has ninety percent of possibility to have a second part.

p.s. 2: the party ended an hour ago and he still there. another thing that i wanted to say is that FOR ME 'slut!' is not a love song so that is my reason for this, i take my interpretation of the song and write it down — venus 🫂💐🫧

The sun's rays slipped through the white curtain covering the partially open window, letting in the morning breeze. You nestled in the sheets, still drowsy, but as you did, you snapped wide awake, realizing once again that Pedri wasn't by your side.

You turned over, hoping it was a dream, but the only remnants of him in the room were his lingering scent and memories of the night before, replaying in your mind.

The way he touched you, tracing each of the invisible scars left by your previous lovers who sought only their own pleasure, using you to their liking without paying attention to your desires.

He was different. His kisses felt like a religious experience, filling you with an ever-growing sense of fulfillment. Nothing wrapped around you more securely than the feeling of having him inside of you, merging under the lustful gaze of the moon that welcomed you on a tailor-made altar, adorned with soft sheets and sensations that turned into a celestial orchestra.

And although the next day, perhaps his flaws became evident, your infatuation took you beyond, closing the curtain of the stage within your mind; you didn't have to be displeased or critical when admiring a work of art, right?

When the strength left from the previous night was regained under pressure, and your mind returned to the frosty present, you sat up in bed, feeling your head heavy, needing to blink several times to clear the blurriness that clouded your eyes due to sleep.

Your feet rested on the wooden floor. You didn’t want to face another day with the pain of the mandatory conviction your heart held towards your mind, aiming it with a gun if it tried to move from there.

You sighed with closed eyes and gathered your clothes scattered around the room. When you finished dressing, you approached the window and inhaled a breath of air to refresh your thoughts.

You left your room; the squeak of the door echoed through the house, signaling to Elena that you had already woken up. You couldn't lie; you were afraid to face her.

She, your best friend since you desperately looked for someone to share an apartment with after the owners of your previous apartment unjustly left you out in the cold.

She, who warmly welcomed you full of empathy and commiseration, helped you deal with the storm by receiving you in a studio apartment with an air mattress. She became the person you adored most in the whole world and never lacked frankness in her words.

Both of you moved forward together; now, you succeeded in modeling, and you could search for something much more comfortable living now in a pent-house, but always side by side.

You arrived at the spacious kitchen connected to the dining room and were met with an exquisite aroma, akin to the dishes she professionally prepared. You tied your hair in a ponytail and moved the chair to sit facing the counter.

Crossed fingers and your chin resting on your hands, you noticed she expected your presence when she twisted her torso, leaving a plate with toast and homemade raspberry jam on the marble counter in front of you.

You waited a moment to grab one of the perfectly made toasts and spread the jam in the toast; you felt the tension in the air. You knew of her disapproving stance regarding your situation with Pedri, and you knew she was preparing the usual sermon.

"Want to say something about it?" It was as if she had read your mind; turning her back, you sat up straighter on the stool, your distressed chest making your heart pump more blood than usual.

"No," you replied dryly, as you took a bite of toast.

"Alright, then it'll be up to me." You felt fear travel up your spine to the buzzing in your head and a high-pitched tone ringing in your ears.

You tried to breathe normally, but it was impossible. Her actions guided your eyes; she put the angel food cake in the oven and turned around, sitting on the stool in front of you, looking at you incredulously.

"He left at seven in the morning. When was the last time he stayed the following morning with you? I know you don't want to hear this, and I understand that you're into him. But don't let that blind you from what's really happening here. You're too intelligent for this, too good for someone who treats you like an option." Her words were always harsh, and she never hesitated to tell you the bleak truth without flinching. But it wasn't what you needed now, and her words were insignificant in front of the formidable figure that Pedri occupied in your mind.

There were very few people who dared to challenge your perspective, and Elena was brave enough to do it, even though her attempts always ended in defeats.

And defeats consisted in your denial, where you decided to take off your glasses after seeing what was there. You knew it existed and acknowledged it deep down, but hearing someone throw out statements so lightly without knowing him in the homely intimacy where he could unfold without prejudices, was something only you could discover.

The 'Open Sesame' didn't work with all tones, and not everyone acquired the privilege of opening such a treasure. So, you assumed it was envy.

"Maybe it’s a mess, maybe it’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a damn!" Your voice began to rise in volume the more anger you vented at her, who was innocent of it all. You noticed her furrowed brow, her attempts to help, every time she threw you a lifeline, you chose to ignore it, believing you could swim the remaining yards to shore alone.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to find a balance, but your aggressiveness seemed to have reached its peak.

"I’ll sort it out myself, alright?" You exhaled, continuing your defense. "So just back off, Ele. I’m sick of needing your approval for everything. I’ll make my choices, even if they’re not in your rulebook." You spoke with a passive-aggressive tone. "You think you know him? You have no clue, none whatsoever." You got up from your seat, giving the countertop a light tap, and shook your head indignantly.

"I just want what's best for you, y/n," She whispered, looking you in the eyes with honesty. You headed towards the door disappearing from her sight.

You knew that she wanted to protect you like she did from the very first moment.

Despite being your age, she showed herself to be more mature than you. You were like her baby chick, and she had the instinct to keep you under her wings, but she had to admit that you had to learn defense by yourself.

And sometimes you need to fail to build your path.

There was no better remedy in your routine than drowning yourself in work to stop thinking about all the dilemmas surrounding your life. At least for a few hours.

Growing within the fashion industry was difficult without contacts; if you wanted to achieve something, you had to consider the hurdles you might carry in your backpack. But your resilience and pride prevented anyone else, terrified of having a future of subordination, from winning.

Today's meetings were about agreements for your brand, a dream that grew with you from your mom reading you bedtime stories to the present day.

You had put so much effort and creativity into your project that, regardless of what happened externally, your priority would always be there. No affair or argument could steer you away from that.

All your distractions due to logical thoughts vanished upon arriving at your apartment. You turned on the lights; Elena had left you a message informing you that she would stay at her boyfriend's house for the night.

Your home felt empty without her blasting music through the speakers and constant movements around the house. You cracked your neck, leaving your faux leather coat on the entryway rack. You lazily tossed your bag onto the couch, sitting beside it. You unbuckled your heels, freeing your feet.

A contained sigh escaped your nostrils, easing your chest a bit. You heard thousands of notifications coming from your bag. Worried, you unzipped it and searched for the phone, unsure of what was happening.

You glanced at the news headlines and the numerous social media posts where you were being tagged. You thought you had successfully escaped last time. The carefully revised alibi by both managers to divert media attention from your relationship had been futile.

But it seemed not entirely effective; without any evidence or concrete proof, just a blurry and deficient photo was enough for them to create a compelling scene for the public.

You clicked on a specific article; its name caught your attention, "The New Target of Love: The Boy in Her Chaos - Will He Survive?" You knew it wasn't the smartest decision you could make; the echoes of the voices of the people closest to you resonated in your ears. But you were alone and had nothing better to do at that moment.

The devil on your right shoulder encouraged and forced you to keep reading; with each sentence and word, your tear ducts were ready to expel the salty drops from your eyes.

You couldn't understand why journalists consistently targeted your romantic relationships instead of focusing on your professional endeavors, where you worked, and strived every day to show the world that you were more than just a pretty face. But in a sexist world, you had to accept without a murmur the things they wrote without any pity, driven by money and interactions.

Had you signed up for this life, or was it something gradually inserted into your brain about what it had to be?

You found yourself seated at your computer with a bottle of wine by your side, seemingly engrossed in reading each of the articles criticizing you and perpetuating a negative reputation of yourself.

You had poured a small amount of the burgundy liquid into your glass. Some sort of masochism consumed you, and without noticing, you began to pour more and more wine into the glass, your heart filling with misery, pausing at every clever word that defined your identity on the internet. Because all of the words seemed monotone.

Until the glass was no longer enough to swallow the bitter pill, you stared at the bottle, contemplating your next move. You shrugged and reached for the bottle with difficulty, your vision truly distorted, no longer having a sense of space.

You leaned back in the couch and took a long swig that burned your throat, feeling your heart rate rise.

You decided you had gone too far, abruptly leaving the computer on the table in front of you. When you tried to get up, you fell backward by inertia, unbalanced. That's when you realized you weren't even paying attention to the news but mindlessly scrolling your mouse.

The tears you had been holding back for over an hour and a half streamed down your cheeks immediately. Now, you couldn't turn back and felt trapped within your own uncontrollable body.

Gut-wrenching sobs made your body tremble, and at that moment, all you could think of was his touch, how every time you cried, he carefully wiped your cheeks and assured you that this too shall pass.

With tears and alcohol blurring your vision, it wasn't hard to find his number as you had it pinned in your messaging app. You opened his chat and immediately tapped the call icon.

You placed your phone to your ear, hearing the beeps from the other end, while your body, consumed by sorrow, couldn't help but continue shedding tears.

You perceived a noticeable change from silence to a clear indication that the call had been answered. You tried to stifle your crying by biting your lip, but it seemed this battle wouldn't let you emerge victorious.

"Love, are you crying?" You wanted to respond, but his voice only intensified your desire to cry; you longed to feel his warmth. You still didn't understand why you decided to go this far. "y/n, I'm worried. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?" You tried to take a deep breath to provide an answer.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and then placed it on your chest, trying to assist in the calming process. "It's so exhausting." These were the words that came out of your mouth as you exhaled.

He still didn't understand exactly what you were talking about, but you kept talking. "I think I can't be with you anymore." Your voice came out strained; you truly didn't want to say those words. You clung to the arm of the chair with one hand, squeezing it, waiting to hear the response on the other side.

"What?" He couldn't comprehend how he had woken up at two in the morning, and you were talking about cutting ties. "Love, listen to me. Why don't you go to sleep, and tomorrow, we spend the day at the country house?" On the other end of the line, he easily realized the moment he picked up that you were drunk.

"Okay." You affirmed with a nod, resting your head on the armrest, and lifting your feet to stretch out on the sofa. "I love you a lot." Your face contracted again, a sign that tears would return.

"You too." He replied, and you were the one who ended the call, slightly calmer about the reflections the articles had left and the incoherent thoughts that had arisen from them.

You left the phone by your side and curled up, hugging yourself, seeking warmth without the help of a blanket. You closed your eyes, praying that the world would change radically tomorrow, although you knew it was an unlikely hope. You never wished more than for whoever was in the sky to give you a new chance to love in the right way.

You needed to believe in someone; you needed assistance from the universe to not lose the hope that once brought you immense joy. But perhaps genuine love was like Santa Claus, and sooner or later, it would crumble like any other ingenious belief.

And like a shrewd child who receives his Christmas gifts with the same enthusiasm even after learning the hidden truth, you dipped your feet into the transparent chlorinated water.

He watched each of your movements attentively, leaning on one of the pool edges. You plunged, soaking your entire body, and swam towards his direction, resurfacing enveloped in laughter with him.

He embraced you, sharing some of his warmth to your cold body due to the sudden change in the water, and you placed your hands around his waist, looking up at him from his chest.

"I love you so much." You bit your lip, seeking an outlet for your love. He rested his hands on your cheeks and began planting short kisses that spread across your entire face.

"I love you more." He reciprocated, giving two gentle taps on your legs. You jumped, and he took you into his arms grabbing your ass.

Quickly, he changed his position, leaving your back resting on the cold pool wall. The chills went up through your spinal cord, fusing the temperature of the edge and its expression, which never went out of style to make you think that everything you needed was there, with him.

You ran his sculpted shoulders with your palms open, feeling his muscles and intertwined your fingers behind his neck, brushing his hair.

Your lips brushed, and you could feel the electricity that could arise from a simple and minimal contact.

He brought his face to you, holding you tight against the concrete.

It was undeniable the indissoluble bond tied by the threads that led you each time to the same situation, and the core of your life was nourished by its bond.

As your lips collided with fervor, eager to quell the fervent passion, you pulled him closer with your legs still entwined around his waist. Feeling his hardness against your core ignited arousal as he pressed himself firmly, and both of you gasped in the midst of the kiss at the electrifying contact.

Your lips didn't want to part, too hungry for each other's sweet taste. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, pulling it gently to invite your tongue into his mouth. It had become sloppy as you lightly tugged his hair, eliciting a groan.

His hand stealthily ascended, never parting from your lips, traveling from your ass to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

His tender lips traced a pattern from your cheeks to your neck. You tilted your head back, offering more of your skin for his exploration.

Expertly, his fingers unraveled the straps of your bikini with a single pull, still nestled in your neck. As the air grazed your tightened nipples, your breath hitched when he took one between his fingers, fidgeting and further intensifying the sensation.

Your sensitive boobs elicited desperate whimpers as he continued grinding against you, creating a symphony of pleasure. The air thickened, and your bodies radiated heat.

His lips passionately suctioned a spot, causing your eyes to roll. You were well aware that he would leave a hickey there.

Moving from your neck, his lips trailed down to your collarbone. Frustration built as he skillfully teased the sides of your breasts, deliberately avoiding the attention where you craved it most.

"Pedri, please..." You gently tugged his strands, prompting him to lift his head. Counterfeit innocence gleamed in his pupils.

"What do you need, amor? Tell me, is there something I can do for you?" His gentle caress graced your cheek, and you melted into his simmering touch.

"Please..." He ceased grinding, his hand swiftly traversing to your neck, as your hand descended, grazing his abs.

"If only you could see this beautiful hickey right now," He whispered, tracing the mark and toying with you, his actions inviting your response as he often did.

It was exasperating; no matter how frequently you found yourself in such moments with him, articulating your desires remained a challenge.

"Just do something," you uttered, a touch of despondency in your voice, pouting with pleading eyes. Yet, he remained resolute.

"I just don't know what you want." He shook his head, gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear, mimicking your pout with a teasing tone.

"Alright... just please, babe, suck my tits," you replied with a hint of frustration. His corners lifted, forming a smile, having successfully achieved his goal.

"There she is, that's my good girl, aren't you?" You couldn't help but nod several times steadfastily, just wanting him to stop playing.

His face vanished from your sight as he covered one of your breasts with his mouth. A loud moan escaped your throat, a sound of satisfaction for him as he moved his tongue, savoring your skin. "Was it that difficult?" He gazed at you once more, and you sighed in irritation, prompting him to raise his eyebrows, questioning your actions.

"No." Your fingers traced his chest as he continued sucking with determination.

Moving lower, you reached the edge of the swim trunks' fabric. However, as you did, he pulled away with a frown. "Who said you could touch?" You mirrored his expression confused.

"Last night, you scared me a lot. Do you think it was funny for me? No, so you can't decide who's having fun, okay?" Your chest felt heavy, yet you found a strange allure in his dominant low voice, even though you wanted to object.

"I thought..." He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back and shutting your mouth with his thumb. He watched as you sucked it, humming and biting his plump lips.

"You didn't think shit. Now, jump." He firmly gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly to the pool's edge. Seated, you patiently awaited his guidance, uncertainty accelerating your heartbeat.

Intense eye contact heightened the tension. His fingers delicately traced over your thighs, starting from the outer part, then gently grazing your clothed intimacy. He devoured you with his gaze.

"Lean back for me, baby." You did as he pleased leaning in your elbows.

He tapped on your thighs, a signal to lift your hips, and he removed the sole fabric covering your body and throwing it to your side. He took your legs and placing them over his shoulders. Spreading you open. A groan escaped him at the sight, reveling in your arousal.

"So wet, just for me," he murmured, running his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices and parting your lips to spread the liquids.

You pressed closer, yearning for more. "Just for you." Suddenly, a firm spank on your sensitive area made you shudder, and you gasped. "Behave," he commanded, throwing you a dominant look.

Circling your clit, he gradually increased the pace. Tilted back, moans escaped uncontrollably. Another spank followed, and you met his gaze. "Keep your eyes on me, princess. Watch as I pleasure you like no one else could."

His words wielded a powerful influence in every scenario. Returning to your pussy, he made his way to slip two fingers inside you easily as you were soaked by now. The reflex to close your eyes surfaced, but his commanding words echoed in your mind.

He initiated a rhythmic motion, penetrating and withdrawing, targeting your most sensitive depths, obscene wet sounds, thumb still teasing your bud. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you sought stability, bringing your index finger to your mouth, biting down to anchor yourself. "You can grab my hair, baby," he suggested, prompting a satisfying sigh as you obediently followed his directive.

As the synchronization of your movements intensified, he decided to elevate the pleasure further. His mouth joined the sensual dance, lasciviously spitting your core, eliciting a contented hum from you.

As his mouth drew near your clit, enveloping it ably, a scream escaped your lips, worthy of a scene of a pornographic film. His name slipped through your mouth, an inadvertent encouragement that fueled his tenacity to excel, delve deeper, move faster, and render you numb in ecstasy.

In the intimacy, he displayed a reflection of his approach on the field, always seeking ways to enhance and achieve peak performance, a relentless pursuit of reaching his full potential at what he knew he was one of the bests, even when he didn't want to admit it.

There was no sweeter melody than your filthy moans. His crotch throbbed aching, aware that just a few pumps would make him reach his climax. But he needed to focus on you first, even though he rolled his hips against the concrete, trying to calm down his needs.

He groaned, shutting his eyes and digging his tongue into your hole. Your legs entwined around his neck, the tight knot of pleasure building as you moved your hips in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue.

"Pedri, I'm..." You shouted, the words hanging in the air unfinished, as he entered both, fingers with tongue, increasing the pace with each successive motion.

He opened his eyes again, locking onto yours, brimming with passion beneath the sun. His nose brushing against your clit, combined with his bambi-like eyes in contrast to the authority he held over you, escalate the moment as you tightly grasped his hair, evoking the release of your juices.

He couldn't help but stop pressing against the wall and squeeze his shaft inescapably, captivated by the way you adhered to what he said, even if it meant he had to assert control with a firm hand, correcting your inclination to lean back a few times.

He loved how obedient you were and how your body reacted.

Your high-pitched sounds spurred him to slip his hand inside his swim trunks, almost moaning at the sensations created by his own touch and the enticing arch of your back. He found himself immersed in the sweet taste and intoxicating fragrance that surrounded him.

He went up and down with his hand on his dick fervently, trembling in sync with you. "Are you going to come, my love? Do it for me," his deep voice making you feel so close. You played with one of your hardened nipples between your fingers. You affirmed with the other hand on his hair, and he hummed against you in response. "Oh, my god." you mumbled.

His vibrations heightened your euphoria, and the combination of his tongue and fingers left you feeling overstimulated. As you screamed arching your back, you became undone, laying flat, straightening your arms at your side and shuddering as you felt him persisting in his ministrations.

Too blind to reach his own pleasure to think about anything else, he continued pounding his dick, gripping his tip as he parted his lips, releasing ecstatic sounds and feeling the reverberations across his body. Leaning against your abdomen, he sensed his shots filling his shorts as he lowered his pace.

You tenderly ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, both basking in the tranquility of the moment as his chest rose and fell. Minds empty.

"Come here, baby," you whispered. He propelled himself up from the water and leaned flat at your side.

As you lay down on the cold poolside with him, he placed his hand on your waist, burying his head in your neck. He rubbed his nose, sensing how your perfume delicately mixed with expelled pheromones, obtaining a small giggle from you.

You swung your leg over his waist, leaning your chest towards him, and stroked his wet hair.

"Thank you," you smiled with closed eyes, sighing. "It's just what I needed."

"I like hearing that," he said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. You looked like a fallen angel with your smudged mascara, swollen lips, tired eyes, and blush spreading across your cheeks.

His gaze instinctively dropped to your neck, observing the love mark on your skin. Though in his mind, he still questioned if this was truly love.

Without delving too much into his thoughts, he gently pecked your lips.

"Pedri..." you sighed, coming down from the adrenaline rush. Sitting up, you supported yourself with your hands and looked at him, recalling internet articles and Elena's words.

"Already want to talk about that?" he asked, huddled up, absorbing the remaining sunlight.

"I'm going to shower," you said, rising from the ground, creating a space for anticipation, allowing him to process and reflect. You knew the house perfectly, having visited many times with the understanding that no one could see you and spend the entire day together.

But meaningful memories were scarce, and you clung to them, hoping that someday it could be more than the fear of being seen together, unable to go to a restaurant or travel together.

You entered the shower, letting the cold water make you reconsider your beliefs. You trusted that, for the first time, you had found something real, a gentleman who stood out in the world of ordinary men, wanting to keep you safe.

You also trusted that you would walk on nails and endure all the thorns of a rose just to be with him. But genuinely, love should be about facing painful situations to prove love for a person, or love should feel welcoming, a place where you would stay for eternity if it had to be so?

You analyzed it, the rain falling on you as you cleaned your body. You wouldn't stay with Pedri; he never felt like a place where you could unload all your baggage without fear.

After all, coming from past relationships, he was your sanctuary at first, stemming from more deficient and unstable experiences. You couldn't stop the solitary tear that escaped your eye.

Since the night you met, you should have realized that nothing good could come from something that was supposed to be just for a night. But you didn't want to listen.

You left the shower, unable to continue ruminating in your head without fainting in the attempt. The drops that weren't allowed to fall from your tear ducts were released by your hair.

You grabbed your clothes, still absorbed in your thoughts. When you finished dressing, you placed your hand on the doorknob. Behind it lay the definition of the future of this strange relationship, and the confrontation was something that terrified you.

You walked into the living room to find him seated, wrestling with his thoughts, head bowed, facing away. Approaching him, you crossed your arms in front of his neck and hugged him, taking in his freshly scented and the slight dampness of his hair. He looked at you wearily, unsure of what would happen, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to him on the gray sofa.

You took his hand with love; you couldn't deny that, despite everything, he had been the source of most of your joys in the last four months. You took a deep breath before letting it out and started speaking.

"Are you mine?" His hand tensed, and his brow furrowed. He didn't understand where such a sudden question came from.

"What?" He responded confused, almost pulling away from you.

"Are you mine or not?" You still hoped for a more certain answer.

"I don't understand where your question is coming from." His expression showed he had never really thought about something like that. At least, was there some kind of feeling for you in his heart? You wondered which person you had been with all this time.

"Just answer it." You let go of his hand; your voice carried a tone of desperation and anguish. You knew you wouldn't get anywhere, but you still needed to cling to the few hopes that remained.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'yours'; we never talked about..." He tried to make another excuse in front of your eyes. It felt as if he were treating you like a little girl, who would eventually leave the question unanswered once she got tired.

"I need to know where we stand! Do you want to be with me or not?" You no longer knew why you kept trying about something that wouldn't change. You stood up from the sofa, and he avoided looking at you.

"Why do you have to make it so complicated? We're just having fun." He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. That response could have been worse than a straightforward no.

"Having fun? Do you think I'm with you to have fun with how the media calls me a slut, Pedro?" You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a bitter, pained laugh. "Four months enduring your ambiguities while defending you in front of my friends, saying you needed time." Your voice faltered, recalling all the arguments you had faced, thinking that at some point, everything would change.

"I didn't think you felt that way." He detached himself from his actions, as if it were so simple. Still avoiding eye contact.

"You said you loved me! Did you ever feel genuine love for me?" Your heart tightened; all this couldn't be a big lie where you were the only one playing a game that was already resolved.

"I don't know." He whispered, unsure of how you would react to such an unsure yet determinant answer. Your eyes blurred with contained tears; you couldn't cry like this in front of him.

"You knew everything you were doing; you knew that I was yours, and you didn't care." You screamed, desperate for him to show some emotion, to show that something of everything you had experienced had a hint of reality.

"It wasn't like that." He replied in the same flat tone, this time looking at you and realizing the tears that were falling, while you were motionless, feeling the room spin around you, and your ears ringing again.

"It was exactly like that." You had been sincere from your first conversation, under that neon light on a private yacht. A party where you didn't want to be, he approached you for that simple reason; you were the only girl who hadn't looked at him.

And you had found someone whom you thought had the will and power to heal all your wounds. But you ended up dancing with shadows in glass, with something ephemeral that you thought could be eternal. While you ended up being one of the many prey in his history.

"I gave you everything, I told you about my past and how I needed someone to trust, and you ended up being like everyone else." You released a silent sob and headed towards the room, where you had left your backpack. You were supposed to spend a weekend together, and now everything was withered. Your feigned acts of believing that magic still existed were in vain.

"Where are you going?" You gasped, bumping into him in the door frame; he placed his hands on your shoulders, concerned.

"I called Elena; she'll come to pick me up." You hadn't even talked to your best friend when you sneaked away with Pedri at noon; she would do everything to stop you from leaving, and you preferred not to tell her. But she, without hesitation, as soon as you asked, was already on her way.

"We can try to fix it." You knew he was only offering the response your ears craved. But you weren't going to fall for his spells. This time, his method of still having your strings to manipulate you like a puppet wouldn't work.

"I won't be with someone who never cared about me." You walked to the door, lowering the latch, and turned around once more; he looked at you from a considerable distance. He wasn't going to try to stop you, and that was what hurt the most. "Good luck, Pedro."

You left the house, and the evening air enveloped you. You walked along the walkway made of rocks, each step feeling heavier than the last. Another relationship failing, another person disappointing and discarding you like a crumpled note, forgotten in the margins of a story that never reached its intended conclusion.

Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks now that you weren't facing him. You stood on the street, waiting for Elena to arrive. She had every right to tell you 'I told you so,' and she would be justified.

You saw her black car approaching from the end of the street, parking right in front of you. You hesitated for a moment to get in, embarrassed to ignore someone who only sought your happiness.

She rolled down the window, and your eyes locked inviting you in. Opening the door, she extended her arms, offering solace. Tears streamed down your face as you looked for refuge on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ele." You lifted your head, and she gently wiped away your tears. Shaking her head, she dismissed your apologies.

"I'll always be here by your side. You're the one who needs to learn, but I'll never leave you adrift, okay?" You pouted, and your tears continued to flow.

You both settled back into your seats, stealing glances at the house. A part of you lingered there, and a lump formed in your throat. You sensed that distancing yourself was the only thing that could save you from descending into delirium. Now, you must gather the fragments of your heart once more and rebuild it on your own.

Your eyes went directly to the hickey he had left. You wanted to rip that skin off, not wanting to have him in your memories in any way.

Leaning your head against the window, you wondered what could have been if fame hadn't been the haunting specter in your life. You guessed that you will never actually know.

[distorted59]

could you write something bout going to prom with 80s James? I don't know headcanons or something, pleease. that would be so sweet of you <3

hey, lovely!! sorry for the long wait! i hope you enjoy! also, i have no idea what prom is like, since I'm not American, so i hope it's a little accurate! <3

the two of you have been friends for the longest of time, had classes together and hung out with the same people.

you two would jokingly flirt with each other and some small kisses would be given here and there.

you didn't think much of it until it was almost time for senior prom. 

“Who are you thinking of taking to prom, Jamie?” you asked him with a playful smile on your face.

“Quit callin’ me that.” He tries to sound intimidating, but he can’t help but smile back at you.

“Well? "Who is it?” You want it to seem like you’re genuinely interested, but the only reason you’re asking is because you want to know if the thing between the two of you could be something real. 

“I don’t…  I haven’t asked anyone yet.”

Hopefully he finally grows some balls and asks you. 

It was a few days before prom and you were actually thinking you and James weren’t going to work. And you were really upset about it. You and James weren’t hanging out as much, and it was really fucking with you.

until… you heard tapping against your window. 

James was throwing rocks against your window! He's here! at your house! again, finally!!!

he climbed up the drainpipe clumsily, (how cute). He handed you his Iron Maiden ‘Killers’ vinyl first and then crawled in. 

“what’s this?” you grinned.

“What do you mean, ‘what is that?’. It’s Iron Maiden!” He was breathing heavily and his cheeks were bright red. 

“Yeah, I know that, dumbass!” You giggled. “ Why did you bring it?” 

“Open it!” 

You took the lp out of the art cover and on the protection cover there was a text, written in James’ messy yet perfect handwriting. “Will you go to prom with me? x Jaymz” 

“You dork! of course I will!” You wrapped your arms around him and you must’ve kissed him a thousand times. 

Both of your lips were sore from kissing that night.

When the time came, both of you were all dressed up. (80s prom was something else). matching corsages and he wore a tie that matched with your dress. 

He picked you up in his brother's car and he was a blushing and stuttering mess. (so were you).

His hair was a little messy, so it was obvious he tried to do something different with it. you told him you liked his hair this way and he thanked you shyly with a kiss on the cheek. 

The school’s gym was transformed into a dance floor and there were beautiful decorations on the walls and ceiling. there were your typical snacks and drinks, (which were obviously spiked). but the two of you had already brought your own drinks. 

you had a lot of fun with each other and your friends! dancing and singing your heart out to your favorite songs. 

you were looking forward to the somewhat slower songs, because that meant slow dancing with James. 

he’s not a great dancer, you didn’t care though. you just wanted to be close to him. 

after all that the two of you make out underneath the bleachers, just like in the movies. 

he asks you to be his girlfriend after the make out sesh. 

“I was wondering….” James starts. 

"Yeah?" you try to catch your breath after the intensive kissing. 

He traces his fingers over your dress, drawing a pattern. He doesn’t look at you until he speaks again.

“do you…. want to be my girlfriend?” he blushes. 

“Thought you’d never ask~”

seal the deal with a kiss. (again)

I wouldn’t be able to stop kissing him either.    

[fromabasementonthehilll]

May I request and 1996 Shauna Shipman x Fem!reader? Where Shauna is a vampire and she gets with reader?

It's okay if you can I just wanted to ask

Teeth (pt.1)

͙⁺･༓☾ - Summary: You had been attacked by a wild ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎animal, if it even was one. You slowly ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎begin to question your friends behaviour.

Pairing: Vampire!Shauna Shipman x reader

Warnings: blood/gore

Part two

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

A blood rush induced haze, one hand limp, heart heavy with numb ground assailing legs; you ran. You didn't know how long you were running for, but you knew you couldn't stop, because it wouldn't. you couldn't feel the bottom half of your body, you traced the foreboding forest with your teary eyes, unsure of where to go. Looking behind, you'd convinced yourself that it was gone, that bloodlust creature that sunk its teeth into you on your way back home, and so you slid down against a rough tree, the wind healing the soreness in your breathless throat and the scorching heat that built up in your face.

"Yeah, I don't know, I think it was a wolf or something" you sat in the cafeteria the next day with a few of your friends, "Oh my god I'm so sorry (y/n), I knew I should've driven you home" Lottie apologised, "Are there wolves in New Jersey? I'm not sure we have them, it could've been a serial killer y'know.." Van exclaimed spookily to your side, you simply gave her a confused look. "I didn't know you were out yesterday night, is the wound bad?" Shauna asked across the table in front of you, weirdly sincere guilt covering her expression. You adjusted the bandage on your upper arm, "The doctors said it could take a few weeks to heal, luckily I didn't have to stay overnight at the hospital, but goddamn it hurts. The worst part is that they don't even know what could've bitten me." It hurt, a lot. You were taking so many painkillers that you were constantly disoriented, barely keeping up with school assignments. "You can stay at mine tonight if it helps," Shauna offered. It made sense, she lived further away from the place that you were attacked, and you couldn't help but fear walking there again. "And I could drive you home whenever you want." She finished, you accepted the invitation, it would probably cause you less stress, and you'd most likely manage to convince her to help you study. Shauna cursed herself out, mentally - why had she offered? She cant be close to you, nothing good will come out of it. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought, you noticed.

After school you wanted to go straight home. You sat in Shauna's car, "Hey, thank you for this, Shauna." You watched her as a slight smile painted her worried face, "Of course."

"You can sleep on the bed," she gestured, "No, no it's okay, I'm not going to steal your bed too." You chuckled, she laughed back, "No really, I don't mind," Both of you left it at that, going downstairs to watch TV. You caught onto the fact that she would stay as far from you as possible, do I smell? What's up with her.

You felt bad, I mean you basically just decided to live at Shauna's house, though she did offer after all. You admired how she kept her bedroom neat and tidy, the art on her walls, though you noticed something odd when she opened her closet. A white t-shirt, ripped at the torso with a few blood stains. As much as you could brush it off - it worried you, maybe even scared you. You didn't ask, however. It felt weird to pry after she'd been so kind to you after your attack.

You two were listening to music in her bedroom, you watched her as she danced while drawing something, it felt like every other time you'd stay over at hers. You sang along, "This is my favourite song." Hearing you, she turned up the volume, "Me too," she sat beside you on the bed, still miles away somehow, "I have a whole collection of CDs if you wanna check it out? I also have a bunch of movies on VHS if you wanna watch something.." Shauna looked at you deeply, watching the way your hair moved with you, how your body listened to her words closely. And In all honesty you felt happy, you liked being around her.

You smiled, hugging her. "Shit, (y/n)." She stood up so quickly, mouth agape and sad eyes in worry. "Are you okay? Did I do something? Shauna I'm sorry I just wanted to-" She cut you off, you stared at her in attempt to figure out what the fuck was going on, and right before she turned away the bedroom light highlighted a slight crimson glow in her eye, almost unnoticeable. "It's nothing, I mean you didn't do anything, I'm sorry." Suddenly the music felt like dull background noise, you looked away, bewildered. She sat back down on her desk as if nothing happened. You began worrying, worrying too much for your own good. "Shauna, talk to me." Receiving no response, you followed up, this time trying even harder to get her to talk. "Why do you have a blood stained shirt? It's all ripped up - are you okay? Tell me what's going on!" "It's nothing okay? Forget it." Finally seeing more than just the shakiness of her head from behind, you raised your eyebrows as she turned to you. "No it doesn't make sense, you invite me over to your house but don't want to be around me." This time both of you stand up, flaring your arms around as you two argued about nothing. "There's nothing wrong, alright! Gosh why do you have to be so.."

"So what?"

"Nothing."

The rest of the night was quiet, her parents weren't home, so she had decided to sleep in their room instead. The only time you two would really speak was when it was necessary. It felt wrong, all of it. Arguing with Shauna was at the bottom of your bucket list, you never argued with her. It's not like you two never hugged before, you were close friends and were always getting up into each others faces, she'd just act weird around you lately.

In the meantime you had noticed Shauna would sneak out in the middle of the night, and on top of everything else, it made you jittery; confused, most importantly distressed.

"Lot, somethings up with Shauna, I know it"

"Shes probably just on her period or something"

"Really, Lottie? That's the dumbest thing you could say right now." You sat in the lockers after practice, on the complete other side of Jackie and Shauna. "You keep looking at her, just to talk to her I mean you guys practically live together now she can't just block you out?" You scoffed at Lottie, it had been a few days since you started sleeping over at Shauna's. "She can and she has, I barely even speak to her, she won't tell me anything." Tying your laces extra tight, Lottie reassured you. "The Halloween party's soon, everything will be fine. But... she could be turning into a werewolf or something, watch out!" She crept up and jumped at you as you finished tying your laces, your heart skipped a beat "Shit Lottie don't do that!" She laughed menacingly before helping you pack up. Admittedly, you were on edge, fighting with Shauna wasn't the best for your stress levels, and your arm hadn't gotten any better. If anything, it hurt even more.

"Hey, (y/n)." Shauna stopped you outside of the changing rooms. "Shauna?" Darkness cast her under eyes, she clearly wasn't sleeping. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't want to fight with you." Her sheepish stance didn't bother you, at this point you were just upset. "And yet you're still standing 3 feet away from me." Stern, just how you meant to say it. She swallowed her words, carefully tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, you looked at her every detail, still searching for answers. Shauna wanted to be close to you, she wanted to hug you, she wanted to listen to music with you without having to be careful - but she just couldn't.

"I'm going home today, don't worry." You began walking off. "Wait - (y/n), you don't have to leave," She was cut off, "I do, clearly." You tried your hardest not to sound like an asshole, but you really believed she didn't want you there, and she did nothing to disprove that. Shauna was still staring at you, pleading with nothing but guilt in her eyes. "You can't go, how will you get home? You live so far away from everything I won't be able to drive you home everyday." You dismissed her tries to reason your stay, "You won't have to, I'm not counting on that." Still metres away.

"What? Don't tell me you're going to walk, what if that person attacks you again?"

"Person? Shauna it was an animal, why would a person bite me, and it's probably gone by now. Just forget it."

"No, stay."

A sense of urgency lingered in her voice, you wanted to ask why she pleaded so much for you to stay, but you just walked away.

It would be a lie to say you didn't feel scared walking home. As you inched closer to the place you got attacked, the sun began setting and your hands began shaking, you could almost feel the adrenaline ready to kick in at any moment, but nothing happened. You were out of the forest, or so you thought. Relief began settling until it was broken by the bushes in front of you.

Blood filled eyes chased after you, you stood for a moment, cursing yourself for not just giving into Shauna. You glared at it, as much as you could considering how fast it was moving. It looked human. You ran back into the trees as fast as your legs could carry you, weak from your state. Branches cut and bruised you, reopening the wound that impaled your arm. Van was right all along, and you were wrong to act so reckless.

Ruptured moonlight casted onto your vision, soon distrusted by the red eyes you sought to escape. They moved around, cautious of nearing you. Regaining consciousness, you had realised you failed. You ran so fast and failed. It was now upon you, as you felt a pair of eyes stalking you. You smelled it, the blood, creeping around you like flies to rot. "Oh my god. Fuck." A familiar voice startled you, though you were in such a daze it all sounded distorted. You gave into the voice, seeking aid from anything you could. "Shauna?", weak, but hopeful, you spoke.

"(y/n), I'm so sorry, please just.."

The distortion began to dissipate, fading away into the night as you tried your hardest to get up, vision focusing on the face in front of you. The pale moonlight accentuated her face in all the right ways, her pretty doe eyes looked sadder than they ever were as they attempted to look at you without squinting, her lips were ridden with thick blood as they trembled. You sat up, in silence for a moment as the hurt throughout your body seeped in while the adrenaline left entirely. "Shauna, what happened?" You desperately hoped it was the last time you had to ask her that, hoped that she would give an answer to all of this, hoped that you wouldn't have to be stuck in the endless, incoherent maze that you thought only occurred in your restless dreams. "I'm sorry," She began trying to construct her sentence, you shifted your gaze onto her ripped, blood soaked flannel.

"It's me (y/n),"

"I attacked you."

Another phase of silence stayed within the air momentarily. You closed your eyes for a moment, unable to focus on her words while trying to adjust your eyes. You stuttered for a second, blocking out the pain shooting throughout your entire body as hard as you could.

"You?"

"I would do anything to take it back, I swear, please just," Shauna despised it, all of it. She hated who she had become and it consumed her. She looked at your fragile state, how you pleaded with your gaze for her to give you an answer, an explanation.

"I'm a vampire, (y/n)." Those were the last words you expected to hear from her. Shauna never even admitted it to herself, she doesn't know how it happened, she just dealt with it, and now you had to too. "Don't joke around Shauna, I'm being serious." Your voice whiny and sore, seeking for an ending to all of this. "I am serious, I swear, just let me take you to a hospital, you're bleeding out" You interrupted her increasingly louder voice.

"Prove it."

"What?" She was metres away from you yet again, it all began to make sense, but it seemed surreal. Vampires were fiction, you couldn't wrap your head around it unless she showed you. Lifting yourself up from the ground, you looked at her.

"I cant do it (y/n), it's dangerous."

"Just do it, please. I'm tired."

Her body whispered towards you, moving alongside the peace bringing wind. You watched her eyes shine red. It wasn't a pronounced red, it was a certain glow that you couldn't describe, shuffling in between the honey brown colour that she had. You, on the other hand, were drenched in red, you knew what it would do to a vampire, though her presence omitted a strange security that wrapped around you. Shauna tried her hardest not to hurt you, you knew how much she cared for you, but this time it was different. You stared at her as she stood before you, the closeness you hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. You wanted to feel the warmth of her again, her touch. After the attack it all seemed to disappear.

If you focused your eyes enough you could see how her canines had been honed all of a sudden, like the edge of a blade. Tears formed in her eyes with every step she took, you steadied yourself as you began to feel the brunt of your wounds. You could tell she was hungry, and it controlled you, just as it controlled her. You began acting more reckless by the second, yearning for her.

"Kiss me"

Her mouth pronounced a shaky o shape, exposing her fangs to you unintentionally. Ever since she had accidentally bitten you, her hunger for you grew, and you could sense it.

"Shauna, please."

Bloodlust eyes watched your fresh wounds in avoidance, unsure hands resting on your body.

She had given into her hunger for you, roughly matching her lips to yours. You fell into the kiss, feeling the stabbing of her fangs onto your bottom lip. Your gashes ached as her hands gripped you like you were prey. Her lust tasted metallic, you ran your hands through her messed up hair, though it was too much for her. In a flash, she had disappeared.

Woken up by the peering eyes of your doctor, the fluorescent hospital lights burned your eyes. You noticed gifts on the bedside table and 'get well soon cards', but none from Shauna.

"Tell me your full name, please."

"(y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Do you recall what happened to you?"

You were unsure of what to say, it all felt like a hazy dream.

"No, I passed out."

[dairy-farmer]

Tim is trending in arts for some reason, nobody's sure why until they find out that an artist takes to making Tim Drake his muse. The artist draws Tim like... like he was a goddess bathing in the woods, unaware of the eyes seeing him. The artist draws Tim like he was the love child from pureness, naked with just a sheet covering his lower half as his fingers trace over an apple. The most famous picture is the one where Tim is looking at the viewer, smiling so innocently, so purely, so beautifully. A smile no one has seen since years ago, decades ago, a time before wayne. The art gets sold in museums, the artist well-known and face well-spread so it's to only mild shock when the artist meets Tim Drake for the first time and immediately gets down on one knee to propose.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!

an artist and his (unknowing) muse!!!! i love the idea of this artist not having to know anything about tim personally, what his life is like, all the good and bad things he did- those don't matter to him. all that matters is tim. tim alone is what drives him, what fuels his art, what gets him up in the morning. he is the endless fountain of genius and artistic love that this artist has.

tim doesn't have to do anything but exist for this artist, they don't even have to have met before and it was tim's existence alone that brought forth so much success and depth to this person's art. so this artist getting down on one knee and proposing to tim!!!

the two of them would be like all those famous art couples only not toxic.

except for tim's family.

at first when tim was found to be trending on social media it was a little funny. just one of those things to laugh over dinner when one of them becomes mainstream enough to be referenced in pop culture. like how bruce is used in rap lyrics or songs when a man wants to talk about getting bitches, or how dick was used as a famous orphan in a countdown youtube video that included people like Annie and her 'daddy warbucks'.

tim's is just something that they chuckle over and laugh about, pulling up photos of the painting and ooing and aahing. it's only when they're going around the table and reach damian that they start realizing something.

damian is tensed with his jaw clenched, eyes locked on his phone and staring intently on a collection of gallery photos belonging to the artist that had boldly proclaimed timothy drake his muse even though tim was sure they'd never met. afterall the artist was someone based in maine, one of the few states tim had never set foot in.

not that it would matter. there were photos of tim on google totaling in the millions. that didn't even count the ones he posted on his instagram to keep in contact with all his civilian friends who were prepping for college.

it's not until jason makes some jab at the artist about choosing a 'shitty' muse and being a two bit talent hack that damian puffs up in defense of his fellow artist. it's one of the times that they're all avidly reminded of how closely damian follows the art circuits, he's likely knows more about this artist's work than all of them combined.

damian goes on some long tangent, slapping his phone down and scrambling for his backpack where he'd cleared his homework away when the dinner table was being set.

damian launches into a lecture like a college professor as he breaks down an analysis of one of the artists' most recent paintings. he explains how anyone, with enough dedicated time and practice can be a skilled artist.

"but do you know why those youtubers who do realistic colored pencil portraits of celebrities don't have their work hanging in the guggenheim but this person does?" damian is glaring at all of them at the dinner table that's suddenly a lot less light hearted in the face of damian's fierce indignance. "soul! depth! passion! meaning! anyone can create a souless bit of art with enough technical skill to get a few admiring sounds but this is real art!"

damian launches into another tirade of how artists used their crafts the same way a writer does their pen, to transmit meaning, deliver an understanding, a revelation, make a statement about something.

damian punches his finger against his screen so hard they're all surprised it doesn't break. the painting that just went up in a gallery somewhere in new york features tim dripping with rich animal furs, each of their heads visible as he cradles a bowl of pears close. the painting shows juice dripping from tim's red lips, his mouth parted and opened for another bite as he glances away from the viewer, staring at something in the distance.

the painting is done ins browns and greens, dark colors aside from tim's skin and the bowl that he's holding which shines brilliantly with gold leaf.

damian is almost frothing at the mouth and frustrated with them for not understanding the layers upon layers of meaning and depth packed into this one work alone. the pears! a fruit that across many cultures is known to mean abundance, to signify divinity, and femininity! the shape of the pear alone implies the soft slopes and curves of a woman. it's no coincidence that the artist chose pears rather than apples and oranges! look at how timothy in this painting has bitten the pear from the bottom, how juice drips down his lips- if the pear signifies femininity and timothy is eating it with visible evidence streaming down his lips- do they think that's a coincidence! then the furs! the animal heads are clearly perked up and alive! the foxes ears are at attention and listening to timothy, presumably as he chews. timothy is eating a divine fruit and wearing a coat made of living animals. the bowl! golden and made with gold leaf! gold leaf has been used very sparingly in the past and only for something of deep meaning or importance. such as the tombs of kings. but the artist was an anglo-christian raised in america and studied art in italy, meaning the golden bowl was not a bowl but rather a nimbus, a golden disk usually used to imply divinity- popularly seen in depictions of mother mary and her son jesus christ.

can all of them truly be so blind to what the meaning here is!! the artist is trying to convey that timothy is a god who descended among them, cast away divinity to be among mortals and walk as they do!

damian is almost trembling with fury and eventually turns and stomps away because he 'cannot stand to be surrounded with such idiocy for much longer!'

after that dinner is quiet, everyone too into their own heads to notice how tim is blushing so hotly.

after that the family is paying much more attention to this new artist. more than a few of them have bruce shifting uncomfortably because they have tim near naked on a stretched canvas. bruce resists the urge to call up his lawyers and have them contact this artist because timothy is still very much a minor and bruce's son.

but damian would likely protest. he said something about how art deserves a pass and cannot possibly be subjected to the ever-changing sensibilities of society. the rest of the family is discomforted by this artist and their near...obsession with tim.

damian insists that they just don't understand. they don't get it.

this man has found his muse. his muse.

the thing that powers his mind, that guides his brush, and leads him to create.

every time a painting is put up for sale bruce is tempted to buy it...just so no one else can have it. after all what kind of person wants a near naked painting of bruce's son hanging in their living room.

some of the paintings are bordering on obscene even though the internet and this artist are intent on lauding him as a genius.

to bruce they're just....inappropriate.

this stranger shouldn't need to reveal so much of his son's body in such a public way just to convey his "meanings". dick is of the same opinion. very much firmly grossed out by this near fifty year old artist who's developed an obsession with his little brother.

jason is more silent on the matter and bruce isn't sure what to make of that. he's walked past the library and the sight of jason with an open laptop on that artist's website and a book on analyzing art.

when the gotham museum is holding a big charity event and invites both their wealthiest donors and artists- bruce doesn't even need to look at the guestlist to know who will be there.

this artist has made a killing selling his paintings of tim, what few he does sell because even though he's an artist he's apparently very reluctant to part with some of his work.

bruce doesn't like that.

it just gives him a strange...feeling about it.

he instructs dick to keep tim in his sights at all time at the party. bruce needs to mingle and feign getting drunk. he can pay attention to tim but tim is slippery and bruce has more than once lost sight of him at an event.

and it's not strange for bruce to do that. often times bruce will pair dick or jason up with damian and tim to make sure they all keep each other in check.

something must go wrong.

because bruce is mid-swish of some dessert champagne when soft gasps run through the crowd like a wave, people gathered in a circle around something and murmuring to each other.

if anything unusual is happening that's usually a sign for bruce to check it out so he shoulders and stumbles his way through, apologetically grinning and jovially slapping people on the shoulder until the sight reveals itself to him.

the sight of that....that artist that bruce had spent hours digging up information on.

kneeling. on the marble floor of the museum. cupping one of tim's hands so tenderly and reverently, staring up at tim who was frozen and wide-eyed.

bruce sees the man mouth words but with the hushed silence of the room he may as well have yelled it.

"marry me."

bruce isn't sure what he's more shocked at.

the man's proposal. or tim's response.

a soft, breathless "yes".

[angelumcaedis]

The Red Means I Love You (894 words) by angelumcaedis Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate) Characters: The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Knifeplay, there's not actual sex but durge is getting off on it, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sadism, Bloodplay Summary: The Dark Urge (she/her, no description or name used) has a nightmare. Mild spoilers for the Dark Urge through Act 3.

(Highly recommend listening to the song of the same title which I had on repeat while writing)

Click above to read on AO3 or click through the readmore:

“I will make it good for you, I promise,” she panted, pupils wide, face flushed.

Astarion tried to lean away from where her knife lightly stroked his cheek, not quite hard enough to break skin - not yet. But there wasn’t anywhere to go - he was bound too tightly to this tree for him to do much at all.

“Darling?” he began, voice strained, “Not that I’m against trying something - different - but normally one has a conversation about this sort of thing first.”

“You will be the prettiest corpse I have ever had the privilege of creating, my love.”

There was something so precious in the way his eyes blew wide with fear, genuine fear, ears pinned back like the prey he was. She breathed in deep, scenting his terror, arousal shooting through her core.

Now, where to start?

She had prioritized immobilizing his hands, those clever hands, so deft and nimble and altogether too good what they did (picking locks, of course.) It wouldn’t do for her prey to wriggle his way free, so she had tied his hands up and far from each other.

This also created a conveniently spread canvas on which to work her art. And art he would be. Art was easy when you started with something as gorgeous as him.

There. She pressed the blade against his stark collarbones, tracing their outline as she cut, a thin line of red following in its wake. Astarion hissed, fangs on full display, an odd mixture of fear and aggression in his eyes. She grinned up at him.

“You’ve had your turn, and now it’s mine,” she said as she pressed her lips to the cut, tongue laving over the sliced flesh as she tasted her lover’s blood. He tasted of iron, old and rusted, not quite fresh as the truly living. But there was something there…

A thought occurred to her. She put the knife to her own thumb, drawing a well of red from her own flesh, and tasted it. Yes. There it was.

He tasted like her.

Her heart soared with giddiness. He was truly a wonder, and would make such an offering to her lord father. A sacrifice suffused with her own blood, the blood of Bhaal. Overcome with emotion, she surged forward and took Astarion’s face in her hands. She kissed him deeply, their blood mingling with their spit.

“Augh!” she stumbled back, hand jumping to her mouth. It came away covered in…. Well. More blood, specifically hers this time. “You… fucking bit me!”

“Oh come on, it’s hardly the first time.”

A hysterical giggle overcame her. Her beloved was so funny!

The blood was stark against the paleness of his skin in the moonlight. He licked his lips, staring her down. His gaze still held fear, but there was a spite in his eyes now - he wasn’t going to just lay there and let her have her fun.

That’s fine. She’s always liked the ones that play hard to get.

She surveyed him up and down, considering where to go, what to do, next. Ah yes. The legs. She admired those, and his speed on the battlefield. She knelt next to him and began flaying the flesh to highlight the curves of the thigh, peeling a thin later of flesh away just enough to expose the striations of muscle beneath. She could hear his sharp intake of breath, clearly trying so hard not to give her any satisfaction by offering her any sound. He stayed strong for so long as she carved first his left and then his right according to her vision.

She broke him when she set her lips against him once more, pressing kisses into the bloody wounds as she stood up slowly. A choking sob tore its way out of his throat, face already soaked with the tears he had shed silently thus far. She cupped his face in her hand, brushing a bloody thumb across his cheek.

“Beloved, I am making you even more beautiful. I only wish you could see it for yourself.” She knew he would appreciate it, surely, could he only see her work.

Astarion glared at her with furious eyes, red glinting in the moonlight. He bared his fangs and hissed, “You’re just like him. Like Cazador.”

Bile rose in her throat, burning the back of her tongue as she staggered back, his words like actual knives to her chest. She retched, falling to her knees on the forest floor as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

---

Suddenly, a cool hand on her back.

She startled, looking around. She wasn’t in the forest, her hands were not slick with blood.

There was vomit on her shirt, and a bit on the blanket as well. She was in a tent. Astarion sat next to her, alive and well, hands out placatingly. He was clothed, and his clothes were bloodstain-free. He looked concerned.

“Bad dream?”

She nodded, dazed. Her skin burned in shame as she realized her body was still tingling with energy - with arousal. Her stomach twisted again, but there was nothing left to expel. She got up on shaky legs, brushing off his helping hands.

She stumbled out the tent flap, mumbling, “I think I need some air.”

As she stalked off into the night, all she could think was: Gods, he had been so beautiful.

[astraystayastayastray]

The Middle

Pairing: fem!reader + boyfriend!idol!hyunjin

Genre: angst, breakup, hope+comfort

Song by: Zedd, Maren Morris, and Grey

Plot: When love eventually comes to an end, you find yourself constantly wanting to go back in time.. to the middle.

A/N: the song cover for this song looked just like the hyunjin arts he likes to paint

Description: Time goes by too fast. It is a foe that takes away youth, memory, and childhood. It brings regret and pain.

"Why don't you just meet me in the middle?"

DO NOT COPY WORK.

Take a seat, right over there, sat on the stairs

Stay or leave

You crumble to the floor, clutching onto your chest. The note that was once placed neatly in your room is now struggling to breathe inside of your tight fist.

I know we meant all good intentions...

But I feel like we are both continuing to drown in so much pressure and worry right now. We try to help each other, I know, but neither of us are feeling any better.

I'm sorry. You dont deserve someone like me.

You deserve to be happy and meet a person who will spend time with you every single day without leaving you in the middle of a movie because of dance practice or abandoning you at a park for a musicvideo filming.

I hope this letter will mark the end of our relationship but also a new beginning for you.

- 현진이♡

◇

Ever since you broke up with your boyfriend, you've never felt so lost, cold, and empty.

◇

You first met Hyunjin at an art museum. The two of you started talking as you both walked through the galleries and exhibits together.

He was wearing a mask and a hoodie so you had not the slightest idea it couldve been an idol - and it had to be Hyunjin too.

Sooner or later Hyunjin revealed himself and you were shocked.

But then things cooled down and you started dating.

Once or twice, you would see a camera go click or a phone tracking your every move through a video.

But you didn't mind. You had Hyunjin.

Everything you ever needed was Hyunjin.

All except that he left you.

I can't just let you go

And so here you are, in the same museum you first met the love of your life.

At the beginning everything was so clear, so beautifully intact.

Now all you can see is fog, mist, and terror crouching by every corner you turn.

You were stuck. With no way out.

You were scared.

Every single day, you would find yourself circling around the museum.

Day by day,

Week by week,

Month by month,

Hoping to pass by a person who might as well will never set foot in this country again.

Why was life so cruel?! Did it have to take every single happiness away from you?

Hyunjin, not even a text, left for another fucking tour and will not be coming back.

When someone says that their heart is broken, you have never really felt the true meaning of this phrase.

But now you do.

Your heart beats, aches, and hurts every single second for whom you loved most, the only person who has ever loved you back.

And now this story was coming to an end as well.

Now, you just want to go back to the middle of everything.

The period of time when you didn't know who Hyunjin exactly was but knew that he was the one for you.

When love wasnt a thing between you two but your heart pounded and hammered in your chest at the sight of him.

When the unfamiliar emotions of love started to blossom in your heart but you were both too shy to admit.

When the innocent confession of liking was revealed and love was introduced as a possible route forward.

The middle.

Oh, baby, why don't you just meet me in the middle?

Nothing more. Nothing less.

I'm losing my mind just a little

When you didn't know anything but knew everything.

Why don't you just meet me in the middle?

The middle of a moment in time when you and Hyunjin, hand in hand, would smile without a trace of worry or doubt.

A pause in time.. a picture film in the sunset.

In the middle.

◇

The spring leaves of your breakup smithers away and autumn fall emerges.

You take your daily evening stroll through the same museum once again.

It was still beautiful, no matter how many times you step in and out of the building. It always felt so different every time.

But this time.. you see a new painting has arrived and was hung on the wall during the weekend.

You quickly walk over to take a glance when you recognize your face is mirrored against the wall.

On the description, it read,

To my first and last love - I am coming soon.

It was definitely you in that painting..

And that art style.. could be of no one but Hyunjin's.

How could you not recognize it?

The face expressions, the quality, the paint brush techniques, the strokes - they were all so familiar to you.

Hope and panic starts to rise in your chest.

You should not be hopeful, you should not be expecting.

But here you are, twirling around and around to see if Hyunjin was anywhere.

But no, you do not see anyone.

You are alone...

Until you feel a warm body wrapping behind you into a hug so big it traps you and flushes all of your sadness and pain from your soul.

You recognize the hoodie surrounding you.. the scent.

It was the one he wrapped around your shoulders when you were cold...

It was the one he pulled over your head in your once-shared bedroom in intimate silence...

He made everything seem possible even through your darkest days.

Hyunjin

So baby

You wish you can just forget about all the things that have hurt you for the past few years..

Why don't you just meet me in the middle?

But humans cannot do that. They plan, calculate, hesitate, look back into the past, and retreat their footsteps.

I'm losing my mind just a little

Can't we go back in time?

You spin around.

Can't we go back in time?

To the middle?

When everything was fine..

When everything was beautiful...

But the face in front of you says otherwise. Through his eyes, you can see the brightest constellations tracing his every thought and every gesture.

And in those thoughts and gestures, you can see the promising image of the two of you, eventually together in a warm, loving, and eternal embrace.

Him smiling in comfort and in final peace, stroking your hair and rubbing your back.

You gazing up at him in admiration and more love than you can ever imagine someone can depict through just a glance.

The images flicker in front of your eyes and now you see an older form of you and Hyunjin who stands facing the exact same painting in front of you even after many many years.

His hand momentarily leaves yours and gently reaches for your chin. Tilting your head up a slight bit to meet his eyes with yours, the man of your life stares at you with so much kindness, care, beauty, and love.

Then, just like the painting that stands permanently engraved into your memory, Hyunjin leans forward and connects his lips with yours.

Dating an idol might be challenging..

It breaks your heart, mends it, and will shatter it back into pieces numerously again and again and again...

But you decide that you don't want anything more right now than the man in front of you.

You didn't need to go back in time to the middle in order to reach your happiness,

Happiness is inside of you, inside of Hyunjin, inside of all of us,

And it will keep continuing to grow and spread

continuously, contagiously, and endlessly.

Love is eternal.

One other is all it takes to open up the barrier and let the light shine through

To know love,

To feel loved,

And share love.

◇

Check out masterlist for more.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! THANKS FOR READING!

[inner--islands]

Interview with Channelers (December 2021)

Steve Targo, of Nimbudala, interviewed Sean Conrad about his latest Channelers albums on Inner Islands. The interview was conducted in a Q&A format over email.

1. What made you decide to pick up the guitar again? Was it the desire to learn finger picking?

It was really a matter of working with my limitations at the time. At the time I had a rehearsal space that I could get loud in (where I recorded a lot of Isles Beyond), but it was shut down because of the lockdown. And my apartment is a very small one bedroom that I share with my partner, Rosa, so it’s usually a bit of a hassle to set up my gear and then tear it down every time I want to play. So acoustic guitar is pretty much the only instrument that’s compact enough to leave out, that I can casually just pick up and play for a little bit. I was inspired to try fingerpicking with my whole right hand (as opposed to the two-finger method I used to employ) while reading the book Dazzling Stranger, about Bert Jansch and the ‘60s folk revival. More fingers means more possibilities!

2. How come you stopped playing for a while? It seems that guitar was prominent in your early music as Ashan & gkfoes vjgoaf.

I kind of phased out of playing as much guitar around 2013 when I got my dulcimer. That really satisfied a lot of my acoustic desires and was a new sound to play with. I also got much more into making electronic music. At this point I’m less interested in electronic pursuits and just want to play tactile instruments.

3. Despite the gentle, soothing nature of Another Entrance, you sound re-invigorated in your playing. Was it because of the guitar or was it more from being inspired by 60s British folk music?

It’s probably a combination of things. I’ve been listening to a lot less atmospheric and ambient music and more to folk, rock, pop, and other more attention-centric musics. Also, I composed the majority of the pieces on AE before recording them (except the two piano pieces) and spent a long time practicing them. I feel like I was able to bring a lot more energy and confidence to the performances when it came time to lay them down on tape.

4. What is it about that scene, that music, that inspired you?

I love that so much of that music has these threads which trace back into antiquity. There is such a rich heritage to that folk music. It has always been in flux: people changing lyrics, changing tunes, and passing those along (most orally/aurally) for generations. It’s constantly in evolution and there is no such thing as a definitive version of any of those pieces. When people started collecting those songs in the late 1800s and writing them down and recording them on wax cylinders and such, people were in a preservationist mindset. Those tunes kind of stagnated for decades and decades and in the 1960s musicians were decidedly much more free with their interpretations of that work and breathed a new life into it and wrote new music in the spirit of those tunes. I think it’s that new breath in confluence with a lot of other things that were happening at the time.

5. Really, you released two Channelers albums on 10/22. Were the songs on Messages From One of Deeper Within recorded the same time as those on Another Entrance? How did you decide which song appeared on which album?

Side A of “Messages” was recorded at the same time. Side B is a track from the “Isles Beyond” sessions and a track from the “Faces of Love” sessions. I made a lot of different playlists for possible versions of AE, which all told different narratives. The narrative I went with was the one that I felt most dialogued with the album cover. There were a lot of other pieces from those sessions still to choose from for “Messages” and I just picked tracks that were mostly focused on the performance of a solo instrument.

6. You have developed a unique & captivating style in your role as artist. How do you create the illustrations you use for album art? Is it 100% digital? If so, why & what program(s) do you use?

I use Adobe Photoshop and sometimes Illustrator. Yeah, it’s all digital. My laptop has a touchscreen, so I’m also able to use a stylus for some human touch.

7. What projects are you working on now?

I’m wrapping up a collaborative album with Rosa. Hopefully it will be out early next year! I’m finishing another collaboration with Matt and Ash from Flower Room. And I’m always working on new material with Michael Henning for our Skyminds project. We get together every week and work on tracks. We have about six hours of unreleased material at the moment and we’re hoping to release some of it soon! I’m also beginning to work on another Channelers album.

8. Let’s talk about Inner Islands, which is 11 years old now! What keeps you going in your role as head of the label? What does the future hold for Inner Islands?

It’s kinda wild how long it’s been going now! And I’ve been running it for 8 of those years, which sounds way longer than it’s felt. I feel like Inner Islands is my musical home; it’s this sacred and deeply comfortable space for me. And what Inner Islands “is” is both this unchanging thing, this field that Braden established at the outset, and yet the manifestations of that are always changing and developing. I get a lot of joy out of teasing out that thread! The future holds a further unraveling of that musical journey.

9. What inspires you right now?

Moving my body every day! I’ve also seen a lot of heart-centric TV shows this year, which has been enlivening: Star Trek (Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and Voyager), Ted Lasso, and Pose, among others. Musically, I just went through a deep phase with King Crimson and related projects. The McDonald and Giles album was a revelation. My friend, Noah Klein, has also been a part of setting up the FLOATING outdoor show series in Los Angeles and I got to play and attend a couple of those in October. They were fantastic! I hope to see more music outdoors soon.

10. What words of wisdom do you like to recall in times of need?

I am the creator of my own experience. I always find that to be an empowering idea.

Channelers is the work of Sean Conrad. He recently released Another Entrance and Messages From One of Deeper Within on Inner Islands on October 22nd on vinyl, cassette, and digital formats. The albums are available from our Bandcamp page.

[mochikeiji]

Looking Like U Got Me

Request: "Prompt no. 56 and 55 for Gojo ＼(^o^)／"

55. "You look like my husband/wife"

56. "Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster"

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x Reader

↠ Warning: none! Simply fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

↠ a/n: i accidentally mixed up prompts 55 and 57 ;-; but still hoping this turns out good!!

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event!

All he wanted was to wake up in bed, next to you— who would cuddle deeper in his arms even in slumber so he'd smother you with his kisses and tighten his hold around you and drift back to sleep longer, finally free of responsibilities for once and enjoy quality time with his only favorite person. But instead he wakes up with a groan passing through his lips, supporting his back side with his hand while shuffling to his side in a different position as the light sun rays shun through the window blinds, softly fanning his eye and forehead.

Gojo chuckles a bit before wincing. His lower back so tensed that he feels himself get older by the day. Pouting at the empty space next to him, he palms the cold sheet in wonder of where you are. Up so early in the morning when you could've just stayed in for him. How annoying. His eyes shut for moment when the scent coming from outside the room intruded his senses. Ah, you must be cooking breakfast. How sweet of you.

Thank goodness it wasn't another batch of dried crackers or cup of noodles that'll enter his mouth. He was never one to cook meals when he was on solo or when you weren't around. The very thought of not only the meal was awaiting for him outside, but also you excites him that it made him feel tingly inside. Call it dramatic, yeah, but it's not every day someone gets to wake up and immediately feel this full of love in the morning. You were the only and last love he's ever wanted to have in this world. It was so surreal even to him.

Sighing before pushing himself up, Gojo yawns out the remains of drowsiness in his system and stands. He didn't bother wearing a shirt since last night, claiming that he misses how his body rubs off yours in both comforting and suggestive ways. Plus it was just you and him home, he'd rather walk naked than wear the usual long sleeved uniform on a warm day.

The scent of coffee got stronger as he closes in his journey towards the kitchen. There was faint sizzling coming from the pan as you stood there in attendance. Stuck in your own little world, swaying to the sound of the radio playing, U got Me by Yung Heazy. It was one of the few songs that reminded you of Gojo back when you were both high schoolers. The exact song you remembered playing when you both hung out on a small cafe in Tokyo. Where he was so flustered, attempted to hide his blushes with his round glasses. The little things that reminded you of that memory never fails to make your heart race.

Of course Gojo knows this one as well. Because it was on that date as well he had call you, "his" after masking his embarrassment and from obviously checking you out every minute. How could he contain himself? He was a young man who was having trouble in the arts of love. Nevertheless he was glad to have grown up from those years. If his younger self could see him now, he'd be gagging at the sight of a softer version of his older self.

Snaking his arms around your torso carefully to avoid surprising you, he places his chin above your shoulder. Salivating at the sight of thick bacon in deep frying, shamelessly letting you know he was hungry from the sound of his stomach growling. "This is a nice way to greet me." you smile at the man behind you, who had his eyes closed in delight while rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat in need of attention. "Good morning to you as well, sweet cheeks." he says after  pressing a kiss on your skin.

"You got up early." whining softly, his hair and nose tickling the side of your neck and shoulder, "I was hoping to stay longer y'know?" trailing his hands underneath the his shirt you were wearing, mapping out on all the skin he could squish and hold with his large palms. Noticeably pressing himself closer to your body, the much needed space gone but you weren't complaining. After all, this was Gojo, a man who knows no boundaries.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you. We haven't had one together since we're both busy." you say as you grabbed the nearby plate, turning off the stove as the now cooked meal sizzles softly from the pan before sliding down to the porcelain surface. In attempt to lick his lips at the now prepared food, his tongue grazes upon your skin, sending you to jolt a bit, hearing the joyous laughter from him as he places a kiss on the spot as an apology.

"W-why don't you go sit down, there's rice bowls and cooked eggs prepared already." stammering, you quickly excused yourself away from his embrace to clean out the mess from the counter. Gojo sighs out the adoration but obliges to your command. Not long after you had finally settled down in front of him. Seeing him in all smiles as he scarfs down on his food made you smile as well. Thank goodness his blindfold was off, they looked adorable twinkling in happiness.

This felt nice. To have an opportunity to be a normal couple once again. So many times you could only daydream of scenarios like this. He could say the same as now that you were present on the usual spot he'd come home to empty. Often dozing off during meetings thinking of where you were or how you were, the multiple times Megumi has fed up with his whining about how he never gets to see or have more time with you. Nobara even pointed out a fact saying, "You act as if you're both married." and Yuuji, being the happy child of the three had said something that always ponder in his mind, "Why don't you marry each other yet, sensei?"

It was a statement he's been considering for a long time. Marriage. Of course Gojo wanted to marry you after years of torment love. To have his precious students say that you both already looked as if you were married got him all heart racing, and very very happy. He's had vivid images of a life with you. Not far from what it is today, but imagine. Unlimited happiness after so long of fearing it. Perhaps maybe even tiny legs running around, giving him such big love as his grows for the family he's craved, watching you smile beside the doorway and calling them in for a meal.

If marrying you means he can have that every day, then the hell with it.

"You look like my wife."

The spoon drop echoes. Slowly his face erupted into a faint blush while staring back at your widened eyes and opened mouth. "What?" gulping down the stuck food in your throat, Gojo bites his lips watching you maintain your composure. So cute. "Y-you know you say funny stuff when you're out of it. Maybe some daifuku would help? Yeah! Wait a sec." quickly getting up from your seat and rummaging in your fridge, you breathed out the heavy puff of air from your lungs.

He did not just say that so directly towards you. Maybe you were dreaming? You wouldn't be if your heart wasn't practically being forced out. Gojo is always fun and games, right? He doesn't mean that.

Sad to think of it that way.

"Ow!" thumping your head above the fridge as you grabbed some of the take outs of Daifuku you got yesterday, closing the fridge back before returning shortly to Gojo, who seemed as out of it as you were. "You did say your brain functions best when you eat sweets. Luckily for you I bought these yesterday. That's why I cooked earlier now because I wanted to try it out with you!"

Gojo can't tell if he wants to be offended at the fact that you think he was joking or just now, cover his half of his face to hide his laughter and igniting squeals. God he wished he had his phone right now, the moment was just so priceless and precious as you were.

"...ter"

Muffles from behind his hand was heard. Tilting your head to the side, trying to process what he said but no avail. "What was that?" you moved a little closer next to him, tapping his hand away almost eagerly. When he does, you spot that knowing smile present on his lips and the uncharacteristic blush still painted on his cheeks.

"Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster, honey."

You've gotten more shy when his hand held yours in the most loving way while drawing patterns. Searching through his eyes if he was playing around, but you were met with ones you know of when they were full of sincerity. "I-i. You know, they were so cheap anyways and I figured you'd want them." he snorts before leaning his head on your arm and laughs hysterically. It was painfully obvious that you were in state of shock that you couldn't even process his words.

Up until now the effect he has on you was still there like before.

"Sweetie." he turns his body away from the table to face you, pulling you so that you were standing in between his legs looking down shyly on the floor. "I'm serious." his fingers reached for your chin to pull your head up to meet his features. His other hand still holding your smaller one; index finger tracing your ring finger in circular motions as if he was creating a make believe ring.

He should thank himself for falling in love and be trusting once again.

Because now, staring back at your eyes filled with the same amount of emotions as his. Reciprocating the exact thing he was feeling. Waking up just to start the day already wanting him to be there. Knowing all the littlest things he's shared. Hearing the erratic sound of both of your heart beats.

He knew he's made the right choice.

"You really do look like my wife. My future."

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[tiaetherealness]

E-boys Are Ruining My Life!

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, fingering, small praise kink, e-boy deku, somewhat confident Izuku

I hope you enjoy my first small smut <3 The E-boy Deku art I just saw is *chef kiss*

Imagining a college! Au deku who didn't have a completely terrible relationship with bakugo and became quite influenced by his all black outfits and song taste. Started painting his nails black, got multiple piercings (especially a tongue one), and tattoos all over his upper body.

Nobody expects such a sweet face like his to have contradicting taste. It awakens some interest in you once you started to share an English literature class with him.

You sat at the back of the lecture hall, near the windows so that you can watch the autumn trees. Class was about to start in five minutes and the professor was just preparing his lecture slides when he walked in. You've heard a lot about Izuku Midoriya in passing but never really got a closer look at him, yet seeing him in all his 6'1 glory made you widen your eyes. 'Holy shit...the rumors weren't lying after all' You thought.

He nodded at the professor in greeting and looked around for a seat before locking eyes with you. You felt a shiver down your spine as he gave you a smile and walked up the steps. He took the empty seat next to you, the smell of his cologne filling the air as you tried to discreetly stare at him. His side profile highlights the undercut that shapes his green curls, the strands tickling his ears that have multiple piercings. Your eyes slowly trace over his sharp jawline that leads to plush pink lips that his tongue ran over. A quick glance up made you lock eyes with his green ones, making you squeak.

"Shit, sorry! I dont mean to stare too much. Your..." you fumbled for a reasonable excuse, "...piercings just look good!"

He gave you an easy smile, though his eyes were teasing. "No worries, I love my piercings too. Makes me a bit more edgy than my best friend katsuki, but dont tell him I said that."

You giggled, feeling good that he took your excuse to staring and actually starting a conversation with this attractive man. You were never into E-boys but Izuku Midoriya made you realize how wrong you were. Eventually you introduced yourself and he did the same. You guys chatted for a bit until the professor officially started class.

For the next couple of weeks, you continued to discreetly stare at Izuku. At his piercings, his tattoos that peak out of his hoodie sleeves, and at his ring clad hand. If only you knew how you were going to have a closer look at his body.

"I-Izuku, fuck! There." He chuckled lowly, curling his fingers right at your g-spot. You shuttered at the white hot pleasure, your toes curling on his sheets as slick covered his palm. He held down your thigh with his left hand to stop you from squirming in his hold."My pretty girl, So wet for me."

He rubbed the rough patch in dizzying circles, making you arch your back and latch on to his arm that was fucking you so slowly. The cursed tatted arm that was flexing with every push and pull of his fingers from your slick walls. You couldnt help but clench on his fingers as he went faster, the schlick schlick your cunt loud in the otherwise quiet room. "Faster, f-faster please!"

"My baby have such nice manners. I'll give you what you want this time."

He went faster, every push making his cold rings kiss your cunt which made you shiver. Your moans rose in pitch with every touch of your g-spot. You thighs were threating to close around his waist the closer you are to cumming. "Are you about to cum?" He let go of your thigh in favor of thumbing at your swollen clit.

You threw your head back, your eyes rolling at the back of your head from the onslaught of pleasure. "AH! Pleasepleasepleaseplease c-can I cum?"

Izuku couldn't help but groan at your begging. "My baby, begging so prettily. Of course you can cum."

At his words you let go, the white hot pleasure reaching its peak.

You definitely have a thing for E-boys now.

[skepticalarrie]

Do you think the leak was on purpose? I'm not sure why everyone is convinced it was just because it's happened in the past. Like mistakes can actually happen. I understand the promo behind getting an album getting leaked but what purpose would it serve to leak the titles, album name, artwork and date. When Harry leaked the album, we talked about it non stop for 2 months before the release. Harry never mentioned it, other than that tweet from Sony to draw attention to it. So lines were drawn and people who were against the leaks didn't listen, the rest of us did. But Louis didn't ignore the leak so that we could continue talking about the info we got. He tweeted he was gutted and immediately everyone stopped posting about it cause they were so upset that Louis was upset. So what would have been the point of it. To get it trending for a day? On top of Amazon's music sale for a day? It's gone now, no trace of it for a random person to stumble upon it on the chart. This just doesn't seem like something Louis would do intentionally. He spent 2 years tweeting about having faith in the future. He flashed it for a second at his festival last year. All that mysterious teasing lead up all that just for the title to be casually dropped? He's so meticulous with merch details like using the checkered print in his posters and then wearing the shirt in his cover art. Everything he did had a purpose. Oh and please is not cause a twarrie decided that 🏁 means bg is ending. The checkered is 28 programme too. This is all designed months and maybe years in advance. I bet he's gonna sing a new song at his festival and normally everyone would be freaking out about LT2 coming and asking when etc. but now everyone knows it'll be here in 3 months. Like ok? And if the leak was intentional, now he's gotta pretend it never happened? That makes no sense. I honestly think either someone on his team or amazon screwed up and he was genuinely gutted by it. He probably had so much planned for the rollout. Announcing the date and album title etc. Remember when the harrys house video announcement dropped? How excited we were? A leak just makes it hard to tease things. And I understand that it takes multiple people to get an album on Amazon set up but it doesn't mean that one person can't screw it up by accidentally releasing it.

Okay. I think a lot of people have really strong opinions on that topic and I’m slightly bored of the entire thing, to be honest. I understand where you’re coming from, and I don’t entirely disagree with you. But I think that’s the kind of situation we will only get the full picture and answers with a little bit of time, I feel like a lot of the assumptions you (and, I mean, all of us) are making are just based on several other “what ifs”.

I don’t think that is impossible that it was a mistake. But I do think that’s very unlikely. In a very practical way, we’re talking about like four or five different scenarios here of what could have happened. And we have no context. So that’s really all I have to say about it, let’s wait and see what’s up next. If it was in fact a “fake leak”, I’m sure it will become very clear in their next marketing move, like it was with Harry’s “leak”. And uh… that may be an unpopular opinion and I feel bad to even feel that way, but I kind of hope it was just a mistake… because I’m tired of everything being staged and fake somehow. Everything is always so fishy when it comes to Louis’ career, and that sucks.

[talkfastromance4]

Indigo--Calum Hood [one]

A/N: I can’t believe it’s finally arrived! Thank you all for being so patient while it took me literally two months to write this fic. It’s my first ever slow burn and the longest fic to date (word wise). This means so much to me and I really put my heart and soul into this. This is also written in Calum’s perspective!

Word count: 12.2k (36k total)

Warnings: themes of emotional infidelity but really all internal with no actions,  confusing emotions and thoughts, nudity, slight mention of body image issues, casual drinking, jealousy, sexual situations

Masterlist

Indigo playlist--really just songs that helped inspire this piece so give it a listen if you’d like!

Feedback is always welcome and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! 

This is split in three parts because Tumblr's new post limit I can't fit it all in one post. So I'll be posting them all at once!

Enjoy!

***

Calum agreed to help out Sarah and Andy with their latest project. He wasn’t quite sure what it was exactly but anything they create is phenomenal and he’s ecstatic to be a part of it. He’d just texted Bianca, his girlfriend, that he’ll be gone for a better part of the afternoon when he arrives at Sarah and Andy’s place. Pebbles greets him at the door, her whole body wiggling with excitement by his presence.

“There’s our man!” Sarah chirps from the table, her camera and other gadgets placed on the table.

“We aren’t shooting here?” Calum asks bending down to pet Pebbles.

“No, there’s this meadow that gets the sun’s rays perfectly at this time,” Andy informs walking in with his own camera bag. “We’re meeting someone else there, too so we should get going.”

“Someone else?”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

The sun is beating down on Calum’s back as he walks through the tall grass behind Sarah and Andy. They’re a good distance away from the road and he hopes they won’t go too much further and land in the fate of a 90’s horror film. Andy and Sarah are talking quietly with each other and Calum checks his phone, no new messages from Bianca.

“All right, we’ll start setting up and you just sit and relax until she gets here,” Andy directs to Calum when they stop at a fallen tree that has moss growing on it and its roots extending to the sky.

“Who is ‘she’?” Calum asks, taking a seat on the tree. He wipes at the back of his neck, it’s sticky with sweat. His lips are starting to get chapped and he wishes he brought his water bottle.

Andy and Sarah exchange a look.

“She’d prefer to be anonymous so I can’t tell you,” She responds ominously and unzips her camera bag.

“Anonymous?” Calum is baffled. Andy and Sarah make a point to avoid the topic as they continue to gather their equipment.

In about ten minutes there was another figure walking through the grass and Calum peered at her trying to get a good look. Her hair was blowing in the slight breeze and bangs framed her face. Calum was intrigued when she was first mentioned.

Watching her walk towards them made him think of those snapshots in your life that sticks with you. Something inside of him told him this would be one of those moments.

She was short, which was the first thing he noticed when she stopped in front of him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Traffic, y’know,” she smiles at Andy and Sarah.

He notices there’s a hint of purple in her hair.

She’s short and has purple hair.

“No problem, sweetie. We were just getting things ready. This is Calum,” Sarah nods towards him and the mystery girl turns in his direction too.

“Hi Calum, thanks for helping,” she smiles.

“No problem, Anonymous,” he grins standing from his tree and holds out his hand.

“Oh, right,” she snickers, stepping forward to take his hand. “You can call me Indie.”

She’s short, has purple hair, and likes to be called Indie.

“Nice to meet you Indie.”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Andy and Sarah first have Calum and Indie sit next to each other on the tree while they take some sample shots. This way Calum and Indie can get to know each other a little better. Calum notices the ink on her wrists, arms, and a nose piercing. She asked about his music and what inspires him. He asked what she does and she very offhandedly said with a shrug,

“Social media stuff.”

And that was the end of that. She didn’t add anything more and Calum wasn’t sure if he should ask for her to clarify but her statement had a tone of finality to it.

She definitely intrigues Calum.

“Okay, Indie, can you swing your leg over the tree like you’re riding a horse and lean on Calum’s shoulder?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah.”

Indie does as she’s directed then rests her arm on Calum’s shoulder, her head dropping on top of her arm.

“Both of you look at me...good, now Cal, look down at Indie...good, good. Okay, now I want you to put your leg over his...close your eyes for me, babe. That’s it! Beautiful.”

They continue with different poses on the tree and each touch Indie gives to Calum makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His body becomes attuned to her touch until Sarah tells Indie to undo her shirt and lay her head on Calum’s lap.

Calum swallows thickly and watches Indie undo the buttons. He looks away quickly wanting to give her privacy and instead looks towards the direction of the road hoping they’re far enough away from peering eyes.

“Now lie across his lap and let the shirt fall over his legs. Yup, Cal... Calum!”

“Huh?” Cal whips his head forward and feels the weight of Indie’s head on his knees. He’s forcing himself to not look down but his body is aware of her weight on him.

He knows this is all a form of art, but he just met the girl and he was unaware this is how the shoot was going to go. He’s posed shirtless for Andy and Sarah multiple times but never with someone else. And never with a girl with purple hair, a gentle voice, and a pen name.

“Lay your arm over her chest.”

“What? Is that okay?” he looks down to Indie’s eyes, they’re a striking deep blue. Like the deepest part of the ocean and he gets a little lost in them. “Is that okay that I do that?” he asks her this time.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she nods with a smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Calum carefully places his arm across Indie’s exposed chest; he notices how warm her skin already is from the sun but also feels the small poke of her nipples on the softest part of his arm.

“Cover her nipples a bit, Cal, she’s going to post these on her Instagram and you know their dumbass guidelines about breasts,” Sarah rolls her eyes adjusting her camera.

Calum adjusts his arm which means he has to look where her nipples are. He knows the human body is art in its natural form, and he admires the female body so why is he nervous? Is it because they literally just met and her top is open?

He curses himself. It’s not like they’re making an adult film or anything, this is an artistic moment. Shit, why did he think of an adult film because now a million different scenarios flash in his mind. While he places his arm across her chest, he sees some more ink below her breasts but he can’t quite make out the design.

“Indie, put your hands on his arm, spread your fingers…”

Calum hears the rapid shutter speed of her camera as she captures the intimate moment between strangers. Calum wonders why he was chosen to do this. Obviously, Michael wasn’t at the top of the list because he and Crystal are married, and Luke and Sierra just announced their engagement. KayKay is no novice in front of the camera, but maybe they wanted a girl and guy? Usually, Ashton is up for anything involving the human body.

“Cal, you have your thinking face on, man. Relax,” Andy says.

“Don’t be nervous,” Indie whispers gazing up at him.

Those damn blue eyes again. The purple in her hair really makes them pop and he notices a small freckle at the corner of her eye.

“You’re not?” his voice is hushed so Andy and Sarah don’t hear.

“Of course, I am, this is way out of my comfort zone. But this is art, and I want to explore it,” she shrugs.

It eased him that she was nervous as well. He took a deep breath and fixed her bangs in her face.

“That’s good, that’s really good, act natural,” Sarah advises.

“I like the purple,” he compliments, “it really comes out in the sun and makes your eyes stand out.”

“Thank you. I can’t really see your face because of the sun,” she squints up at him and giggles. Calum smiles at the sound.

The session continues and eventually Calum removes his shirt as well which he’s thankful for because he was starting to sweat. He told himself it was because the sun is at its hottest spot in the sky, not because of some cute girl with purple hair and tattoos with her shirt open.

He leans forward on his knees with Indie standing behind him and the tree, her chest pressed to his back and her hands locked under his neck. He wonders if she can hear how loud his heart is beating.

Another pose has him sitting in the grass with her legs hanging over his shoulders. Calum tickles her toes and she squeals out in laughter and Calum knows those will be great shots.

“Hey! Tickling is forbidden!” she laughs. “I will kick you and it will be your fault.”

“You won’t kick me,” he shakes his head but stops tickling her then notices another tattoo on the outside of her ankle. He looks to his right and sees a small red train on the inside of that ankle. “You have a lot of tattoos. What does this one mean?”

His finger traces the red outline of the train and the small speckle of stars shooting from the chimney.

“I loved Thomas the train engine.”

Calum looks up at her not believing her for a second. From this angle he forgets what his smart-ass remark was going to be because her naked midriff distracted him greatly. The ends of her hair tickled over her nipples, her bangs framing her face perfectly.

She gives him a radiant smile that he can’t deny by returning one of his own.

“All right, that’s it for this spot. Ready to head out Indie?” Sarah asks, pulling them from their small moment of connection.

“Yeah, I’m starved,” Indie buttons up her top.

“Want to come, Cal? We’re getting pizza at Marco’s,” Andy says.

“Uh, let me check my phone quickly, hang on,” he pulls out his phone then slips his shirt back on over his head. One notification from Bianca and she just gave his text to her a thumbs up. “Yeah, pizza sounds great.”

He walks next to Indie back to their cars.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

“How would you guys feel about doing a night shoot back at our place? The city lights in the skyline would be perfect,” Sarah says when she finishes off the last piece of pizza.

“I’m down for that. Can it be partially nude?” Indie asks, sucking up the last of her root beer from the vintage red cup.

“Absolutely,” Sarah nods.

“What do you say, Calum?” Indie looks up to Calum and he feels like she’s challenging him.

“I’m in,” he nods. He’s always up for a challenge.

The night shoot is out on Sarah and Andy’s balcony. Calum watches Sarah and Indie first from the doorway. Indie has her top open again leaning against the railing. She stretches her arms up above her head, extending her torso and Calum can get a better glimpse of that tattoo below her breasts.

It looks like celestial with moons and stars. As the photos progress, she slips it all the way off and leans over the railing. She does a profile view then reaches her hand out to Sarah’s camera for a close up of her fingers. The two women are giggling and Calum won’t deny how natural and confident Indie is in front of the camera even though she admitted to being nervous to him earlier.

Was she telling him the truth or was she just doing that to keep up this anonymous persona?

“Sarah has a way of making people feel comfortable in front of the camera. It’s her loving nature,” Andy explains as if reading Calum’s mind. “This is all Indie’s idea by the way, the shoot. She wants to do a body positivity session.”

“That’s…” Calum watches with wide eyes as Indie drops her shorts and panties then he sees her cute little bare ass. “Nice.” He clears his throat since she’s completely bare. Andy chuckles and nudges him in the ribs.

Calum is suddenly in the need of a cigarette; his fingers begin to twitch.

He watches her as she and Sarah continue to interact. Indie keeps her backside facing Sarah and Calum spots yet another tattoo on the back of her shoulder. Why’d she choose him to be a part of it? Or was it Andy and Sarah who chose him?

Calum opens his mouth to ask when Sarah calls him over.

“Get your ass out here, Hood, it’s your turn. Sit in the chair,” Sarah commands, pulling up said chair right in front of Indie.

Calum keeps his gaze on Indie’s face when he sits in the chair in front of her, his head seems a bit clearer now without her naked body in front of him.

“Shirt off?” he jokes, trying to ease his own tension.

“Please,” Sarah grins and he peels it off again. Of course, she’d say yes. “Baby, can you get the lights for me?”

The outside lights shut off by Andy and replaced by color changing string lights hanging in the rafters. Calum stares up above as they transition from green to yellow to orange and finally to some sort of purple/blue hybrid. Indie’s face comes into view over his shoulder, her fingers dance on his shoulders, her eyes are shining, and her hair is more purple with the added hue.

“Magical,” Sarah comments.

Indie smiles at him and he couldn’t agree more with Sarah’s statement and a few notes of a soft melody sprout in his head.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum stayed up all night going through Indie’s Instagram. He thought it would show her real name and he’ll deny to his dying breath that he did NOT spend an hour trying to find her profile. Turns out, her social media persona is displayed as Indie too and he wonders why.

Her posts are all about body positivity which include photos of her body that look professionally done in his opinion. Each pose is perfectly posed so you can’t really see everything but know that she’s fully naked. He tries to make out the tattoos he couldn’t see from the night before, but it’s hard with how her body twists and the way they’re edited.

He reads through some of the comments, agreeing with the ones telling how hot and gorgeous she is. He wanted to tell off the creeps and defend her because her message was about loving your body.

Her photos and posts are real and authentic. She talks about her own insecurities, how learning to love her body seems to be an ongoing lesson. He admires her rawness and understands seeing something different when you look in the mirror but when he sees her...he wonders how she can see flaws.

His phone rings right after he hits ‘follow’ and the noise scares him. His heart plummeted when he saw it was Bianca.

“Hey, babe,” he greets and she immediately rattles off about her day.

Calum puts her on speaker so he can continue to scroll through the photos of him and Indie she posted from their shoot. There are comments from some fans inquiring if he and Bianca broke up.

Bianca didn’t really say anything about his photoshoot, but she doesn’t really say much about what he does anyway.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

The guys are taking a little creative break after bouncing back chords, verses, and beats that they’ve been working on since six in the morning. Ashton was complaining about needing his fifth cup of iced coffee and Michael was starving so the two of them left to pick up lunch and coffee.

Luke and Calum remained behind like always. Luke never stopped working and Calum always kept him company, enjoying the sounds of his soft guitar playing. Ashton’s lava lamp changes to purple and Calum is reminded of Indie so he pulls out his phone and goes to her Instagram.

She’s made a few new posts within the last several days. The first one is of her standing in front of her bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped around her. Her eyes are wide and bright, her hair is in wet strands and the steam frames her reflection. The next one is darker with the towel dropped; two small black hearts are placed on her breasts.

She captioned it: “conversations with myself about loving me are the hardest conversations I have. Sometimes they’re serious and other times goofy, but that’s with the aid of rum. Being gentle with yourself seems so easy until you come face to face.”

The second most recent post is of her and another guy at some sort of festival. They both have on circular sunglasses and the photos are a little blurry. One is a close up of the guy but he’s out of focus and eating a corn dog. The next one is of the two of them standing in front of a funhouse mirror; she has her fingers up in a peace sign. There’s one of them eating cotton candy and the last is of them on the Ferris wheel.

She just captions it as ‘memories.’

The last one she posted was from several hours ago and it was another photo shoot. She was posed with the same guy from the festival only this time she was topless and his arms were around her in front of a mirror. Another one has her lying on a bed with her head hanging off the edge and she’s upside down. The guy is resting his head on her stomach, both of them are looking at the camera and he’s shirtless too. The last one is of her twisted on the bed under the sheets, her ass peeking out and she’s spread across the guy. His hand is very low on her back.

Calum feels a pang in his chest. The pictures are great and all but why is he feeling this sharp pain and warmth in his cheeks?

“Woah, are you on OnlyFans right now?” Luke snorts and Calum jumps from the sound of his voice.

“What?”

“Pretty raunchy, don’t ya think?” Luke grins and then something clicks within Calum.

Could Indie have an OnlyFans account? Is that what she meant by “social media stuff”? He knows it’s one of the most popular adult content websites right now and that pay is really good if you post a lot. Is Indie her...sex name? Is that what that’s called?

“D’you think she has an OnlyFans?”

“I dunno. Who is she?” Luke stops his guitar playing to look at Calum.

“I...I uh did a shoot with her, Andy, and Sarah a few weeks ago.”

“Really? What did you do?”

Calum brings up the session he and Indie did together, handing his phone over to Luke. He suddenly feels very self-conscious and almost wants to snatch his phone back so Luke doesn’t see Indie bare chested. But she posted it on her public Instagram so anyone can see it.

“Wow, you really did a nude shoot?”

“We had our pants on,” Calum scoffs, trying to take his phone back but Luke stretches his arm out of his grasp.

“She doesn’t in these next ones.”

“Give me my phone!” Calum scrambles over Luke’s broad frame to get his phone back. He settles back on the couch in a huff. “Don’t look at those.”

“You showed it to me! Who is she anyway?”

“I don’t really know. She goes by the name Indie but I don’t think that’s her real name.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we arrived at the meadow for the shoot, Andy said we were meeting someone else there and when I asked who it was; Sarah said she wanted to be anonymous. She posts a lot about body positivity and I asked what she does for a living and all she said was social media stuff.”

“OnlyFans is social media. What did Bianca have to say about these photos?”

“Not much,” Calum shrugs and he gets a Twitter notification from her. Does she have a sixth sense to post or call when he’s talking about her?

He opens up the notification and she’s talking about him but very vaguely by only calling him ‘boyfriend’ with a photo attached of him looking down at his phone while they were out to dinner the other night. She brags about him online but hardly does anything with him when they are together. He’s starting to forget why he’s dating her in the first place.

“She had nothing to say about you posing topless with another woman?” Luke’s guitar playing stops and his eyebrows are raised.

“Nope,” Calum sighs and likes Bianca’s post anyway. Their relationship seems to only be about ‘liking’ each other’s posts lately.

“That’s...odd. So, why’re you looking at this girl Indie’s insta anyway?”

“I like what she posts. It’s real and true and a lot of people relate to it. It’s nice,” Calum shrugs. “And she was cool to hang out with at the photo session.”

“Ah, I see. You’re jealous you aren’t in those photos with her.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yeah you are, and you didn’t want me to see her naked bum.”

“How would Sierra feel about that?”

“She’d look with me,” Luke shrugs, “you know that. See if she tagged the guy and find out who he is. If he has an OnlyFans then there’s a possibility she might have one, too.”

“How does that make sense?” Calum asks but clicks on the tagged name anyway because he’s not thinking properly and his curiosity is getting the best of him.

“They promote new content with whoever they did it with.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Saw it on TikTok, and there was that rumor that Ash has an OnlyFans so I Googled about it.”

“That’s a weird thing to Google.”

“Please, you’ve Googled worse. So, who is the bloke?” Luke peers over his best friend’s hand to look at his phone screen.

Calum looks back down at his phone on the new profile. He has quite a massive following and a small bio.

“His name is Ian, he’s a model and an extra in TV shows. There’s a link under his name but he posted photos with her, too.”

Calum taps on the post to see it’s of them in that damn bed again. Indie is straddling him but she has on some sort of lace outfit and Ian’s hands are on her waist. They’re both laughing and facing the camera.

“He wrote ‘always a blast doing sessions with you.’ Does that mean photo sessions or OnlyFans stuff?”

“How am I supposed to know? Why does it concern you anyway?”

That stops Calum short. Why does it concern him? His mind is spiraling with his conflicting emotions and the desire to search for more information about this Ian guy. He tosses his phone on the opposite end of the couch.

“It doesn’t concern me. I was curious and now I know you and Sierra subscribe to OnlyFans.”

“What? I didn’t say that at all!” Luke squeaks then narrows his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. Why does it matter if she has one or not?”

“I want to understand her, she didn’t tell me much about her and I’m not sure why.”

“She probably wants to keep her life private. Does she have a big following for what she posts?”

“Yeah.”

“Then maybe she doesn’t want people knowing her business. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Of course, I can, I--she intrigues me, that’s all. I want to know more about her.”

“Why do you want to know more about her?”

“I don’t know! She...her purple hair and nose ring and tattoos...and her eyes are so damn blue. I don’t understand it.”

Luke is silent for several moments staring at Calum, his blue eyes imploring his friend to tell more. Luke‘s looking at Calum as if he knows something.

Calum is lost in his confusion. Luke moves from the couch and picks up Calum’s notebook and his favorite type of pen. He holds them out to Calum.

“Write about it. Figure it out.”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum tried to write about it and figure it out and he was a little ashamed of himself for searching for Indie on OnlyFans a few days later after talking with Luke. It made him feel pervy, and even though he didn’t find her, it wouldn’t have changed his outlook on her at all if she did have an account. It only makes him want to learn more about her and not the small number of half-truths he received.

It’s been a month since he saw her and he’s at a party with Roy and Bianca. Bianca was off with her friends so Calum and Roy were left to their own devices which were perfectly fine for Calum. He’s always up for a good time but only when it’s with his close friends who are more like family, not a hundred people who sneak photos of him when they walk by.

He’s scanning the crowd--people watching is his favorite thing to do--when he spots someone with purple hair walk by.

“Indie! Hey!” Roy literally took the words right from Calum’s mouth.

Roy knows Indie?

Indie turns at the sound of her name waiting for her friend to pass and she smiles upon seeing Roy then shows her teeth in a radiant smile when she sees Calum right next to him. She’s got on some overall shorts with one of the straps unbuttoned and a tight black shirt that stops at her midriff. There’s some glitter on her face and Calum is mystified once more.

“Hey Cal, fancy seeing you here. Hey Roy,” she smiles at him and Roy pulls her into a hug. Calum feels a twinge of jealousy that he didn’t receive a hug.

“You two know each other?” Calum asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, Indie comes to my meditation sessions once in a while. It’s been too long since the last one, missy.”

“I’ve been working!” she giggles shoving his shoulder playfully. “I’m in need of a good meditation zone, though. Oh, this is my friend, Travis.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Travis shakes Calum and Roy’s hands.

Calum eyes him up but before he can say anything else, Travis mentioned something about finding their group of friends.

“I’ll send you details on the next mediation,” Roy tells her before she heads out.

“I look forward to it. Have a nice time,” she smiles at them both and lets Travis guide her through the crowd.

Calum is a bit upset he didn’t really get to talk to her as he watches her disappear into the sea of people. He continues listening to Roy and his latest idea for a new album and what it will be based around. He hums and comments in the spaces he’s supposed to but his mind is off on someone else.

And then he wonders where the hell Bianca got off to.

“What’s wrong with you, man? Your mind is out of this world right now,” Roy comments.

“Nothing, nothing,” Calum shakes his head gruffly and then Bianca appears handing Calum a drink.

“You look parched,” she kisses his cheek and he feels the sticky residue of her lip gloss on his skin.

Calum continues to search for Indie as the night goes on, wanting to discuss how her body positivity project is going. He smiles and poses in the photos with Bianca; he knows both of their smiles are fake. Whenever she touches him, he doesn’t get that same feeling he did when Indie touched him in the meadow.

It’s a little after midnight as he exits the bathroom and bumps into someone.

“Oops, sorry, my faul--Indie! Hey!” he grins down at her.

“Oh! Hi again. Having a good time?” she asks brightly.

“It’s all right, how about you?”

“Not really in the mood to party tonight,” she shrugs, “but my friend Travis from earlier likes a guy here so I’m his wing woman.”

“What a good friend you are,” he smiles. “Have they met up?”

“I got a text from him with the tongue emoji, the fire emoji, and the drooling emoji,” she counts off on her fingers. “I’ve walked around this place twice so I’m assuming he’s all good,” she chuckles.

“So, you’re here all alone?”

“Yeah. I was just about to order an Uber--”

“I can take you home if you’d like. You shouldn’t take an Uber alone.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind--”

“Hey baby, some of the girls want to go to the club. I’ll see you later,” Bianca appears and gives Calum a very fleeting kiss on the cheek.

“Okay, before you go, this is Indie; remember how I did that photoshoot a month ago?”

Bianca glances at Indie who gives her a bright smile.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet--”

“Oh, yeah! Where you were both half naked! Very hot. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says offhandedly to Calum then runs off to her friends.

“Nice to meet you, too!” Indie finishes in a half-shout and Calum laughs. “She’s a woman on a mission, huh?”

“Yeah, always has to be where the party's at. How about that drive home?”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Once in his car, Indie connects her phone to his Bluetooth and puts on her playlist along with the address of her apartment. Calum watches her scroll through her phone until she selects the first song; its vibe is very chill, fitting the mood of the blue color of his car’s interior lighting. He keeps glancing over to her; the blue really brings out the purple in her hair. She then pulls her hair back and up behind her head in a makeshift ponytail, fanning herself with the other hand.

“Hot?” he asks while pressing the button for the AC. she lets out a yelp of surprise when the cool air blows on her neck from the headrest of her seat.

“I need my seats to have this feature,” she sighs then lets her hair drop over her shoulder. “Thank you for taking me home. Will you meet up with...oh my God, what’s your girlfriend’s name?” she presses her hands to her face, eyes widening in horror. “She left before you could introduce her.”

“Her name’s Bianca, and no, I’ll probably go home. Club life isn’t really my style.”

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“For what?” He peers at her curiously.

“Have you ever had insomnia cupcakes?”

When they arrive at the small cupcake shop they read over the flavors listed on the bulbous glass display case. The cupcakes are the size of muffins and each time Indie nudges closer to him, he can smell her perfume. It’s citrus with a hint of something else he can’t place but she smells wonderful.

Indie ends up getting a strawberry cupcake with white frosting and pink sprinkles and Calum gets a confetti one which she teases him about.

“What’s wrong with confetti?!” he laughs following her outside and sits at one of the round metal tables.

“It’s like the second most vanilla flavor you could get. Live on the edge!” she swipes off a bit of frosting and sucks it off with a low satisfied moan.

Her eyes close relishing then taste and Calum gets momentarily distracted by her reaction to the cupcake.

“Well, isn’t that vanilla frosting? Not too on the edge yourself, are ya?”

“It’s not vanilla. Here,” she holds her cupcake in front of him, her eyes testing him. “Try a taste.”

He swipes her frosting off, eyes still on hers and he pops his finger in his mouth. His tongue is full of a very zesty lemon flavor, it’s sugary and sweet but light enough where it’s not too overbearing.

“Shit, that’s good.”

“Told you! Now you enjoy your plain confetti over there,” she wiggles in her chair taking her cupcake back. She swipes up more frosting.

“You eat the frosting first?” he asks, unfolding the paper from his cupcake.

“Mhm, the cake is the best part.”

He watches her in wonder as she continues to eat before taking a very large bite of his own treat. Frosting gets on his nose and she loses it when he wipes it off.

“Did I get it all?” he asks, sucking off the frosting from his thumb.

“You missed a spot...right here!”

Somehow she snuck some frosting on her pinky finger and rubbed it onto his cheek and nose. Calum was dumbfounded then when he saw her practically rolling in her chair from laughing, he joined her and wiped it off on her own.

“Thanks for that,” he laughs, licking off the lemon frosting.

“I’m sorry, I had to,” she shrugs and licks off the rest of her frosting from her cupcake.

“I’m going to get you back for that, Indie. Mark my words.”

“I’m trembling in my overalls,” she mocks with a smile.

“You should be,” he teases and takes another large bite of his cupcake.

When their cupcakes are finished they’re back in his car and her music fills the air with sound. He makes note of the band on his screen, Linus Young, so he can look them up later. He turns it down on the song titled ‘Crystal Ball.’

“How’s your latest project coming along?” he asks then moves into the middle lane.

“Pretty good, I guess. I want to do a couple more shots before I do a post. Sarah said she’d help me with it, we just have to find the time.”

“Do you need a partner?” he grins.

“Not for these shots,” she giggles, “but you’re more than welcome to come if you’d like. I’m always open to other artists' creative eyes.”

“Yeah, I’d love to. Do you have an idea on what your next project will be?”

“Um, I don’t know. It’s always centered on self-love and body positivity. I might try something with body paint or shadows. There’s a--”

“Do you have an OnlyFans?” he blurts out then immediately wants the earth to swallow him up whole.

Where the hell did that come from? He wanted to try and ease into it casually but how do you casually bring up a website like that? And now he just blurted it out like an imbecile. He keeps his eyes on the road anticipating a well-deserved slap across his cheek or for Indie to demand he take the next exit and drop her off.

Instead, she laughs. It’s a full-on cackle with a trail of giggles gasping for breath. Indie doesn’t stop until he looks over at her in alarm and with an apologetic grimace.

“Oh, you’re serious?” she squeaks wiping at the corners of her eyes. She takes a deep breath, still chuckling. “Why do you think that?”

“I was showing my friend Luke the shoot we did and when I went to your Instagram he saw your other photos and asked if I was on OnlyFans and he said creators usually post photos like that with a partner they collaborated with or something and you said your job is social media stuff and that’s social media and I’m--I’m an asshole for blurting it out like that. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business but even if you are, that’s great, y’know? No shame or judgment from me whatsoever. And I feel stupid for even trying to search you--”

“You tried searching for me?” she asks but Calum’s on a ranting rampage. “Wow. I’m fl--”

“This makes me sound like a grade A creep. You--”

“Calum!” she laughs resting her hand on his forearm. The hair on his neck stands up at her touch just like in the meadow. “As entertaining as it is to see you stumble over your words and talk this much, stop. I’m flattered you would even think that in the first place, but no, I don’t have an account.”

He risks a glance at her; she gives him a warm smile.

“Do you have an account?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“What?!” he swerves a little in his lane but thankfully he needs to change over for the exit. His GPS says Indie’s place is only a few more minutes away. “No, no I don’t have one.”

She giggles again but doesn’t say another word.

They’re silent for the remainder of the drive, the music playing softly in the background. He wishes he never said anything and that Luke didn’t bring it up in the first place. Calum makes the few turns indicated on his screen and then parks in front of a duplex. Indie unbuckles her seatbelt, angling herself towards him.

“Would you subscribe if I did?”

He jerks his head in her direction, did he hear her right? He opens his mouth to answer then narrows his eyes, she does the same and they have a narrow-eyed contest until they’re laughing.

“Would you subscribe if I did?” he counters.

“I asked you first.”

He unbuckles himself as well so he can stretch in his seat and run his fingers through his hair. “I’m not going to answer that. Can we pretend I never asked that and this conversation never happened?” He drops his hands to the steering wheel; he needs to have a firm handle on something because clearly his tongue is acting wild.

“What did you ask?”

“What?”

“What conversation are you talking about?”

Calum stares at her, then looks outside as if there’s a hidden camera and he’s being punk’d right now. Is Ashton Kutcher hiding in that trailer?

“We were talking about OnlyFans.”

“Calum! I was playing along! You didn’t ask me anything and we didn’t have a conversation about that unasked question,” she gives him a perky smile.

“You are something else, you know that?” he rubs at his face out of embarrassment and feeling like such an idiot.

“That’s what I’m told,” she sighs.

He feels there’s a story or two there but he’s already invaded her privacy enough tonight. And it’s only the second time actually meeting her.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks.

“Yes. Please do.”

“Why do you want to know what I do?”

Calum rests his head on his seat, turning his head towards her with his hands still on the wheel. She’s situated herself in her seat so that one leg is pulled to her chest and resting against the center console. Her round cheek is cupped in her hand, her eyes wide and captivating.

“I want to know more about you, that’s all.”

“Why do you want to know about me, Cal?”

That question again. The answer is staring him right in the face, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. So, he alters his answer because he’s already rambled enough for one night.

“You have this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude and a free spirit. You’re sure of yourself and not a lot of people are like that.”

“I definitely do give a fuck about a lot of things. Maybe too much,” she shrugs, removing her hand and leans forward. “You’re sure that’s all?”

She doesn’t ask it in fishing for compliments type of way, it’s more like she knows he’s hiding something, like she knows he sugar-coated his answer. Indie’s eyes have him captured, he’s like a fly caught in a black widow’s web that’s made up of his own lies.

“Ye-es…” he responds slowly.

“You promise?”

Her eyes are steady on his, he squeezes the wheel, arms tightening, knuckles whitening, and the smallest flick of her eyebrow causes him to let out a large exhale. Calum drops his hands in defeat.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he shakes his head.

She’s looking at him like Luke was looking at him back in the studio.

“You’re…” he licks his lips and swallows down his nerves. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Indie. I’ve never been this lost in my head on finding the proper words to say what I want to say. But I can tell you that my intentions are only to get to know you, which I’m certain of.”

“Get to know me as a friend?”

“Friend, photoshoot partner, whatever it is,” he shrugs. “All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She gives him a small smile with an even smaller nod then takes a deep breath. Her hands rub at her temples as she lets out a frustrated groan covering her eyes with her hands.

“Are you okay?”

“You know that’s the truest thing you’ve said this whole time, Cal? I’d be glad to be your friend but I can’t lie about how I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

“So... what do we do about that?”

Indie removes her hands, her eyes the size of planets holding the same secrecy of the galaxy. He wants to explore every part, every hidden crevice.

“I want to know you, too. But we have to promise--” she holds out her pinky “--that we are friends first and foremost. I don’t trust people easily; I only tell what I think they should know. But my intuition is telling me to trust you and it’s never wrong. Can you do that?”

Calum mulls over her words. He reaches over the console so their faces are closer. He can see the glitter on her cheeks and how they resemble constellations. He cups her cheek; his fingers locking in her hair and captures her lips in a fevered kiss without a thought of the repercussions that will follow.

The kiss is full of sparks, desire, and an innate need. Indie kisses him back with equal hurriedness and soon they’re scrambling to the backseat. Lips still connected, her fingers claw at his shirt and--

“Cal?”

Calum blinks. He’s pulled back to the present, his fantasy betraying him in the worst possible way from the reality of Indie still holding her pinky out for him.

The kiss was all in his head. Going against his selfish desires, he hooks his pinky with hers and Indie’s face turns serious.

“We promise to always stay friends, no matter what. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“We promise that no matter what comes from the darkness, what secrets will surface, or whatever urges may arise, we are friends first and won’t let those things change that. Promise?”

“I promise,” he nods, tilting his head to the side in amusement as she continues.

“And above all else...we won’t leave or abandon one another. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good. I promise, too,” she stares at their joined pinkies.

“You okay?” he asks, feeling the shift within her.

“Yeah...it’s a little...I’m giving you all my trust. It’s a little scary.”

He squeezes her pinky then covers their joined hands with the palm of his other hand. He cocks his head lower until she looks at him with shining, vulnerable eyes.

“I promise I won’t break it, Indie.”

He wonders if she catches the double entendre to his promise because while he said it about her trust, he could tell she’s wearing her heart on her sleeve. He doesn’t want to break that either.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum has been walking on air ever since that night with Indie a few weeks ago promising to be friends. Is he attracted to her? Absolutely. That at least is something he can admit even if it is in his own head. Will he act on those thoughts? No, because he has respect for Indie and his relationship with Bianca.

Things between him and Bianca have gotten a little better; they go out more and she’s asked him about his music. When he’s mentioned he has this tune stuck in his head that he can’t figure out she doesn’t say too much about it and quickly transitions to her next appearance promoting a new line of liquor.

Calum’s confident he can push his attraction for Indie to the side and make their friendship a priority. He’s never had a female best friend before but it’s an easy transition with her.

After that night they exchanged numbers and were quick to start sending funny memes and TikTok videos. Calum downloaded the app solely because of her and when he discovered she had a few videos of her own, he watched the four videos relentlessly.

“You’re a very talented lip syncer, you should go pro,” he’d told her one day over FaceTime while he was making breakfast.

“There’s no such thing as a pro lip syncer,” she snorted back. She was applying makeup in her bathroom sitting cross legged on the counter with her feet in the sink.

“Yeah there’s that show on MTV or some shit where you dress up and put on a whole performance.”

“I would literally die if I had to perform in front of people. No thank you.”

Calum laughed then watched her apply her eyeliner with careful strokes and perfect precision. Whenever she did her makeup she had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and her bangs clipped up so she wouldn’t get makeup on them. Seeing her whole face for the first time filled him with even more intrigue and he thought she was even more beautiful.

“Why do you do that on the sink?” he asked, flipping his egg on his toast.

“So I can get closer to the mirror. It’s a girl thing. Doesn’t Bianca do it?”

“Dunno, I’ve never seen her put her makeup on before.”

He would send her photos and videos of Duke and each time she’d comment on how adorable he is and that she would steal him one day.

“You’ll have to get through me first,” he grinned.

“I can take you. It’s one of my superpowers.”

“What superpower is that exactly?”

“If I tell you then my cover’s blown, duh.”

“Why don’t you show me then?” he teased with a slight hint of flirtation.

“Cal…” she warned but couldn’t help her giggle.

“All right, all right,” he smiled, scratching at his head. “Sorry.”

There would be some innocent slip-ups like that throughout their conversations. Calum just felt so at ease with Indie and when she asked him to help her with a photoshoot of hers he was more than excited to accept.

When he arrived at her place, there was music playing from down the hall and he heard voices followed by Indie’s laugh. He follows the sound right into her bathroom where she is with another girl while the bathtub was running water, bubbles rising.

“Did you finally get your own dog?” he asks and the two girls turn at his voice.

“No, it’s for the photos,” Indie smiles. “Cal, this is Inka, she’s going to be in the photos with me and helping you take them.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Calum,” Inka smiles.

Inka’s a little taller than Indie with flowing ink black hair, wide set eyes and brown skin. She has a septum piercing and is also very good looking.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods, and then turns fearfully to Indie. “I’m taking the photos? Shouldn’t you ask Sarah, she’s a professional.”

“I don’t want them to look professionally done. Inka’s big on water photography so she’ll help you. And we need someone to take photos of us together.”

“All right, so…” he glances at the tub that Inka is now bent over testing the water. “What’s with the bubble bath?”

“That’s where we’ll be,” Indie grins, removing her shorts.

Calum is so caught off guard by being the photographer that his eyes watch her step out of them, but finds she has on swimsuit bottoms. At least he won’t be distracted this time like in the meadow or at Andy and Sarah’s when she was completely naked.

“Are you alright with us being topless, Cal?” Inka asks removing her own shorts. He spots some ink on her skin as well, he wonders if they got tattoos together at one point. The styles are pretty similar.

“I’m fine if you guys are,” he shrugs then eyes up the Polaroid sitting on the counter. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me here; I respect the artistry of the naked body.”

“All I needed to hear,” Inka says with a sigh. “The water’s perfect, Indsy. I’ll put on music that helps me get in the zone.”

“Is this the camera I’ll be using?” Calum asks, pointing to the Polaroid as Inka changes the music on her phone to something with a bit of soul to it. The voice echoes very softly within the bathroom.

“Yeah, it’s Inka’s. She’ll show you how to use it while I’m in there. Thanks for helping with this, everyone couldn’t or thought it was weird when I asked them.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” he smiles down at her, noticing she doesn’t have makeup on. “You look nice by the way.”

“Thank you. I’m going to take my top off now,” she touches his arm as if in assurance, her eyes widening slightly. “Will you be okay?”

He knows she’s teasing but he links his pinky with hers that’s on his arm.

“Promise. Now get in there,” he jerks his head towards her bath.

“Sheesh, you’re a demanding assistant.”

She backs away and he examines the camera with curiosity. When Inka and Indie converse behind him, he lifts his eyes to their reflection in the mirror just as Indie is pulling her t-shirt off. Her eyes meet his as she tosses it to the floor and it’s as if the moment slows before she’s stepping into the water.

“Inka! This is too hot!” she squeals, pulling her foot out.

“No, it’s not! Calum, come feel the water.”

He turns and stands next to Indie; he bends to the floor pressing his hand through a mountain of bubbles. It’s pretty warm but he’s come to realize that Indie doesn’t like hot things.

“I think it’s fine but it is too hot for her,” he agrees with Indie.

“Well, you’ll get used to it and if your cheeks get a little red or your chest, then it will make the pictures better.”

Indie sighs; she puts her hand on Calum’s shoulder for extra support and puts her foot in the water again. She lets out a hiss and stands there for a couple seconds. Calum grabs her hand and holds her fingers when she places her other foot in the tub as well. He watches her scrunch her face at the temperature, he can see a red splotch blooming on her chest already and she’s not even fully in yet.

“Darling, it’s really not that bad,” Inka sighs rubbing at Indie’s shoulder. “Is it?”

“I just need to let myself get used to it,” Indie replies and drops a knee, her fingers’ holding onto Calum’s tightly.

“I can get a cold washcloth for you,” he offers but Indie shakes her head and drops her other knee.

“I’ll be okay. Can you get me a bottled water from my fridge?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back,” he nods and he releases her fingers.

When he returns, Indie is fully in the bath, her hair cascading over her back like a dark purple curtain. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and Inka is on the floor with her camera pointed at Indie. Indie’s head is on her knees, her body curving forward, eyes big and her lips pouting slightly.

Calum doesn’t like how she looks sad even if he knows it’s for the aesthetics of it all. Indie looks up at him then stretches a now bubbly arm towards him for the water.

“Wait, stay like that for a minute!” Inka instructs Indie's pose and the camera clicks. “Okay, you can take it.”

Calum sits against the cabinets next to Inka, paying attention to the buttons on the camera before she takes a picture. Indie leans back with her head tilted back and eyes closed, her breasts pointing out. Then she rested her arms on the edge of the tub, her cheek falling perfectly in the crook of her elbows and she eyed up the camera and Inka. When she looked at Calum, he forgot how to swallow.

“Okay, ready for me?” Inka asks, standing up from her place on the floor.

“You’re going to complain about the water though,” Indie rolls her eyes playfully and turns the tap back on. She shifts to the opposite end so she doesn’t feel the hot water.

“Just take photos you think would be good as candid’s,” Inka instructs handing Calum the camera.

He’s nervous now. He doesn’t want to mess up their vision and he runs over what Inka told him in his head as she takes off her tank top and climbs in with Indie.

“This is so tepid!” Inka shrieks and Indie laughs.

“It’s perfect!”

“You’re such a little weirdo,” Inka drops into the water and pushes the running water towards Indie. Indie sticks her tongue out.

While the water continues to run, Calum takes some practice shots and Inka starts to pull her hair up in a very messy bun with loose strands kissing her cheeks and forehead. She looks very good, actually. Inka has a natural beauty to her, much like Indie does. Calum took photos of that process, Inka is confident in herself like Indie is; it’s all in her posture.

“Remember the first time we were in the bath together?” Indie asks, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, you were drunk and thought your tub was a whirlpool. But you turned the shower on instead and I thought you were drowning,” Inka laughs.

Calum captures their smiles. He remains silent as they place bubbles on each other’s noses or blow them at each other from their hands. He tries to take as many of those as he can because he thinks they’re charming.

He discovers they’ve been friends ever since Indie moved to L.A and have gone through tough things with each other like bad relationships, loss of jobs, and fallouts from a whole group of friends they were involved in. The more they talked, the closer they got in the tub.

“Here, turn around, I want to get some shots like this,” Indie tells Inka.

They’re in a fit of giggles and laughter as Inka maneuvers in the water, some of the bubbles are rolling down the sides of the tub. Once they’re situated, Indie scoots closer until she’s pressed against Inka’s back. Calum’s reminded of feeling her pressed against his back at Andy and Sarah’s.

“Look at Cal,” Indie says and they both turn to Calum.

He snaps the photo.

“How are you doing over there Mr. Camera Man?” Inka asks leaning against Indie.

“Great. How’re you guys?” he asks.

“Hungry. I want some pizza,” Indie sighs. She presses her cheek to Inka’s neck and wraps her arms around her stomach.

“We’ll order some afterwards,” Inka lifts her hand and pats at Indie’s head affectionately. “Does Calum know you need to be fed every few hours?”

“You make me sound like a baby,” Indie laughs. “Does Calum know?” She directs the question to him in third person, looking at him expectantly.

“Yes, I discovered she gets very feisty when she’s hungry,” Calum laughs.

“He’s a good egg,” Indie says and kisses Inka’s neck.

“Wait, do that again,” Calum says and Indie presses her lips to Inka’s neck. He snaps the picture and he grins. “That’s a good one.”

“Stay professional over there, sir,” Inka warns, narrowing her eyes.

“I am! It’s a sweet moment that’s all. You guys are close and have been through a lot. There aren’t too many friendships like that.”

“I always tell her she’s my soulmate,” Inka pats Indie's cheek then spins around again in the water.

“My friend Ash and I say the same thing.”

“You two take baths together, too?” Inka asks and Indie laughs.

“No,” he laughs. “We wouldn’t fit.”

That gets them both laughing and he snaps a picture of it, the pure joy and amusement on their faces. He notices goosebumps are on Indie’s arms.

“You’re getting cold, Indie,” he comments.

“Yeah, we should get out soon. Did you get some good photos?” she asks, sitting up a little straighter, her hands on the edge of the tub.

“Wait, Cal get one more picture,” Inka stops Indie from standing.

He poises the camera to his eye again and watches as Inka leans in and gives Indie a soft kiss on the lips. She holds the kiss so he can take the picture and he keeps snapping when they pull away and smile at each other.

They both rise from the tub with more water sloshing over the sides; all the bubbles are gone now. Calum stands handing them each a towel; he’s trying to wrap his head around that kiss. He kisses his friends too, but to see Indie be kissed by a girl made that pang form in his chest again like when she hugged Roy and not him.

He shouldn’t be jealous; they’re just friends and he pinky promised.

“I’ll order some pizza and upload these so we can look at them,” Inka says, wrapping the towel around her. She folds it over so it’s held to her body like a strapless dress. “Time to put your camera skills to the test.”

The photos ended up looking really well. He could tell the differences between his and Inka’s, hers were angled in different ways to make the focal point look cool. His photos were straighter on but Inka was impressed by some of his close-up shots of their laughter.

The three of them watched a movie as they ate their pizza, laughing at the scenes and more memories that came about for Indie and Inka. Calum really liked Inka and she gave him a hug when she left, promising she’ll contact him if she needs his help for her own photos.

“You have her approval by the way,” Indie says, moving back to the couch pulling her blanket over her legs.

“Approval?” He joins her resting his arm over the back of her couch.

“Of being my guy best friend. This was sort of a test of hers by having you deal with our shenanigans and being half naked in the tub.”

“Elaborate, please?” he chuckles. “Did she think I’d be weird about it?”

“She’s a little protective over me. We’re best friends but…” Indie looks at her hands in her lap; she starts to play with the edge of the blanket.

“But…?” he prompts and she bites her lip. “I feel like this is a pinky promise moment.”

“It is.”

He holds out his pinky waiting for her to link their fingers. She takes in a deep breath and hooks her pinky around his but she doesn’t let it go when she speaks. Her eyes are trained on their pinkies.

“Inka and I dated actually, for a short time. It was right when I moved out here and we got super close super-fast, I felt the most comfortable with her in the friend group I fell into. She’s the first one I voiced my attraction to women about and she said she was the same. We both don’t like labels. And... Yeah, we dated for a couple months but both agreed our friendship was more important than if we broke up badly.”

“So, you’re attracted to men and women or just women?” he asks softly.

“Both,” she says, her eyes still on their pinkies. “Inka’s the only woman I’ve dated and have been with but I’ve had other crushes. They just never went anywhere.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tugs on her pinky lightly until her eyes meet his. “Why do you seem scared?”

“When I tell other guys about it they get all weird and ask for threesomes or they get freaked out like I'm going to cheat on them with her or something. I’m attracted to girls but it’s more than attraction, too.”

“I get it,” he nods, “you don’t have to explain to me. You care for people for who they are. I’m sorry if you felt cautious to tell me. You can tell me anything, Indie.”

“It’s just nerve wracking, that’s all,” she lets out a shaky laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t be creepy with the photos but while we were doing them I figured this would be a good time to tell you.”

“Thank you for telling me, it helps me get to know you better,” he smiles. She gives him one back then pulls her pinky away so she can give him a hug.

He holds her tightly, feeling how fast her heart is beating. They didn't let go until her heart slowed down and matched his.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Every day at the studio, Luke would pester Calum asking when they would finally get to meet Indie. Not long after, Ashton and Michael would chime in as well about wanting to meet her and Calum would do his best to ignore them. But he knows his brothers and they’re persistent to the point where it will make you go mad if you don’t agree.

Today was more of a chill day tossing random lyrics and notes around trying to make it into a song. While the other three were goofing off, Calum was at the piano trying to work out the notes that have been swimming in his head for the last couple months. He has the first and last notes down pat but what is in the middle? He can’t figure it out.

“Hey, Cal,” Luke calls, “you should have a party tonight.”

“What for?”

“So, we can all hang out, drink, eat, meet Indie…”

Calum’s hands fall away from the keys and he twists around on the bench to see Luke smiling with all his teeth. He looks like that emoji with his teeth bared.

“Why do you want to meet her so badly?”

“She’s friends with you, we want to be friends with her as well,” Luke shrugs.

“Roy knows her, why can’t we?” Ashton adds.

“Yeah, is she even real at this point?” Michael chortles.

“Yes, she’s real,” Calum rolls his eyes. “How—”

His phone buzzes on the table.

“It’s Indie!” Luke exclaims trying to snatch up the phone.

Calum darts forward grabbing his phone before they can. Thankfully, it was just a text because he knew if he picked up the phone one of them would have found a way to speak with Indie and say something ridiculous.

“Stop acting like we’re twelve,” Calum shakes his head. “Two of you are married.”

“I’m engaged, actually,” Luke corrects, leaning back on the couch. He crosses his converse covered feet at the ankles. “What’d she want?”

Against his better judgment, Calum opens the message to see three photos and a text. They’re all the same photos just taken in different positions. It’s her naked body, from just below her breasts to the tops of her thighs. She’s poised in a way that you can’t see anything and it ranges from black and white, sepia, and the original photo.

‘Which one should I post?’ was the text sent.

“She sent me photos asking for help on which ones to pick for a post,” Calum says already typing away about how she should do all of them. Then he asks how her day’s going. He looks up at his friends and they’re giving him the same look of expectation. “Ugh, fine! If I invite her over you can’t be weird as shit like you are right now.”

They whoop and holler at that news.

“Finally, we get to meet the infamous Indie,” Luke sighs, resting his head on his hands. Calum throws a pillow right at his face.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

All of Calum’s friends are mingling in the backyard and kitchen area, conversation and laughter is heard over the low sound of the music playing. He’s ordered pizza and wings for everyone to enjoy and they should be delivered in about forty-five minutes. He’s been anxiously waiting for Indie to arrive but is also nervous about how the guys will act around her.

Bianca is out of town so she couldn’t make it and Calum wasn’t too sure what his feelings are about her not being here. She told him to have fun and not get too rowdy, so he appreciates that small sentiment.

Indie was excited to meet everyone else when he called her and when she asked if she could bring a friend, he assumed it was Inka so he of course said yes.

Boy was he ever wrong.

He was popping open another white claw when Andy and Sarah announced her name. He looks up in excitement to see her hugging Sarah but then it falters when he sees it’s not Inka that’s next to her. It’s that guy Ian from her Instagram posts that she posed with. The pang in his chest is back when Ian places his arm over Indie’s bare shoulders and shakes Andy and Sarah’s hand.

Calum takes notice of her outfit; she has on a dark blue top with the sleeves that only go to the tops of her arms and black jean shorts with some black boots. Her dark purple hair is pulled back behind her head in a sort of braid.

“Hey isn’t that—”

“Indie?” Calum finishes Luke’s sentence and takes a long drink of his white claw. “Yeah, let’s go introduce you.”

Ashton and Michael met them by Indie and she gave Calum a big smile.

“Hey! How’re you?” she asks rising on her tiptoes to give him a hug. Ian and Calum’s eyes meet briefly before Indie pulls away.

“I’m good, glad you could come,” Calum forces a smile. “Uh, these are the guys. It’s about time you all met. This is Luke, Ashton, and Michael. Guys, this is Indie.”

“So, you are a real person,” Ashton nods, shaking her hand.

“As opposed to what? A blow-up doll?” Indie teases and Michael chokes on his own drink.

Calum grins because he knows she’ll be able to handle herself around them. He just hopes they don’t say anything about him that would raise questions.

“I like you,” Ashton smiles. “Who’s this you brought along?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. This is Ian,” she introduces.

Calum eyes him up while he shakes his friends’ hands. He’s about the same height as Calum with short brown hair that kind of sticks up in the front. He’s got tan skin, an arm of tattoos, and has a lean muscular build.

“And this is Calum,” Indie introduces him last.

Calum notices she didn’t say ‘my friend’ or ‘my boyfriend’ when introducing Ian, so what is he exactly?

“Good to finally meet you, man,” Ian holds out his hand.

“Likewise,” Calum makes sure his grip is tight, but so is Ian’s. “Help yourselves to drinks from the coolers and kitchen. Pizza and wings should be coming soon.”

The pang in Calum’s chest only grows as the night progresses. He’s not quite sure what to make of Ian except that he and Indie are very comfortable with each other. When Calum is in ear shot they’re always flirting and touching each other.

“Sooo…” Luke drawls sidling next to Calum. “He’s that guy from her Instagram, right?”

“Yup.”

“Are he and Indie dating?”

“No idea,” Calum’s voice is clipped. He takes a drink of his white claw. The pang keeps getting sharper, his fingers are twitching for a cigarette and now he really wants some weed.

“Are you all right?”

Calum watches Ian come up behind Indie with another drink for her and he smacks her ass then proceeds to rub her back. Indie smiles up at him taking the cup.

“Yeah, I’m all right. We’re just friends,” Calum sighs.

When the party dwindled down, it was only Ashton, Michael, Luke, Andy, Sarah,Indie and Ian left sitting around the firepit. The conversation transitions from topic to topic that are mainly centered on Indie and finding out more about her. Just as Calum suspected, she’s very cryptic in her responses and that makes him smile. Calum’s sitting across the way from her and her legs are resting on Ian’s lap. Ian’s hands are rubbing at her calves.

Calum tells himself it doesn’t bother him.

Somehow the conversation turned to sex, which isn’t all that uncommon for their group but Calum was shooting daggers at Ashton because he didn’t want Indie to feel uncomfortable. As always, she surprised him and she was asking her own questions. Everyone answered her question of what their first time was like and they were all great stories of embarrassing moments.

When it came for her to answer, Calum sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“I was nineteen, wasn’t expecting it to happen at all. And you’re always told ‘oh, it’s this magical moment! You’ll be changed forever!’ but it literally lasted two or three minutes and I was like, ‘that’s it?’” she giggles. “I didn’t feel changed at all.”

“Two minutes?” Michael laughs. “Was it his first time too?”

“Hey, in my defense I’ve wanted to do it with her for a long time and when it finally happened…I lost control,” Ian smiles. “That tends to happen with Indie.”

Calum’s ears feel hot and it’s not from the fire. He ignores Luke’s quick glance to him from the bit of information that Ian was the first guy Indie had sex with.

“And we were also in your parent’s living room,” Indie giggles some more.

“All right, so now the next question…most rounds in one night?” Ashton asks lighting up another joint.

Calum wants to strangle him.

“What the hell is with all the sex talk, mate?” he finally asks trying to play it off as nonchalant, but the way Luke and Michael fidget, he knows it didn’t sound that way. No one else seems to notice, if Indie did he doesn’t know because he doesn’t dare look at her now.

“It’s a beautiful thing. It brings people closer by being open about it,” Ashton rests his ankle on his knee.

Calum snorts and shakes his head crossing his arms. He shakes his leg in annoyance.

Everyone says one or two rounds with little stories with each one. Michael made everyone laugh when he said one and a half.

“I was super drunk and it finally caught up with me and…yeah, I fell asleep,” Michael chortles. His eyes are heavy from drinking.

“That poor girl,” Andy says.

“I married her, so you know she’s the one,” Michael smiles.

“Where are Crystal and Sierra? I was looking forward to meeting them, too,” Indie says.

“They’re both at some fashion expo,” Luke explains. “We’ll all get together; they want to meet you too.”

Then fashion is the next topic of conversation until Ashton opens his mouth again. The weed must have set him off in a very inquisitive buzz.

“Indie, you didn’t answer the round's question.”

“I don’t want to be judged,” she holds up her hands in defense.

“This is a judgment free zone, this is a safe space, c’mon,” Ashton smiles lazily.

Indie looks at each person individually, except Calum before she answers.

“Three times,” she sighs, staring into the fire.

There’s a collective ‘woah’ around the group and sounds of approval. She tries to hide her smile but fails and ends up covering her face.

“Damn, that dude’s got stamina,” Michael says.

“It was a fun night,” Ian smirks while taking a drink of his beer. Indie smacks him in the shoulder and that earns even more of a reaction from the group.

They all want to know details and context, but Calum is seething. He really wants to get up and leave because he doesn’t want to hear anymore, but he knows that will cause more questions.

He remains silent for the rest of the night thinking about everything and questioning everything. He wants to know if Indie and Ian are dating and he wants to know why it matters to him so much. It really shouldn’t and that just makes him angrier.

He’s glad his friends are getting along with Indie, but he wishes it weren’t in this type of context.

When everyone had left, Calum was stuffing plates and cups in a large trash bag then he was going to light up a joint in hopes that would help calm his mind and rid his thoughts of seeing Ian and Indie together. He doesn’t even want to think about what they’re doing right now.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr-blog1 @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower​ @mymindwide​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @sebsbrokentoe @heartskippeddabat

[sleepylixie]

3.1k words, Angst, Fluff (Romance), Non-idol AU

Kim Hongjoong X fem! Reader

Inspired by Love you Like Me- William Singe ( Playlist here )

Beware of Profanity, Heavy themes of infidelity, implied sexual activity 

The studio was loud, bustling with murmurs and movement, lighting being fidgeted with and artists putting in the final touches to the simple, neutral toned set. A shiver traced down your back as you watched people walk this way and that, preparing everything to be perfect just in time, just before the cameras begin rolling and the star of the show settles in front of the camera-

The steady buzz of your phone in your hand interrupted your train of thought. Took him long enough, you thought to yourself as you watched the name flash across the screen. Hongjoong. 

Not a couple of months ago, his contact’s name had been ‘loml’ with a red heart- how quickly things change. You knew he would call you before you were to go on-air, a tradition that he had unfailingly kept alive over the last 3 years. This particular call however, was different. Special. 

Because it was going to be the last. 

You would miss his calls, you mused as you accepted the call. His smooth, lilting tenor always greeting you with- 

“Hello, starlet.” 

The amused endearment didn’t make you smile like it used to. You used to shy away from it when you had initially started dating Hongjoong. Over the years, however, you had truly grown into a starlet in your own right so the inside joke was now laced with adoring truth. 

“Hello, my love.” 

Your voice was soft, mellow, the perfect replication of how you would respond to him in better times. Funny how a relationship you’d valued as much as your career had come down to pretence and secrets- 

“Are you ready?”  

The real question is, are you ready? The response was heavy on your tongue but you swallowed it down, letting a sardonic smile curl up the edge of your lips as you hummed into the phone, a show of contemplation.

“I think so.” 

If only he knew what you were talking about. 

“I’m sure you are, you spent so much time in the studios with Chris. Trust yourself, darling. You’re going to do amazing.” 

There had been a time when his reassurance would’ve given you enough motivation to rule the world- now though, it felt like nothing but a sham. Pretty, deceptive falsities that he kept up only for the sake of his promise to you. A game of make-believe he seemed to be amusing himself with. 

He was going to find out soon enough, you convinced yourself. He was going to find out soon enough that you were no game to be trifled with. 

The producer caught your eye, motioning to the set – it was time. 

“It’s almost time, I need to go.”

What a glorious double entendre this conversation was. 

“Good luck, my love. I’ll be watching the live.”

You hummed again before hanging up, coughing into your hands as you made your way to the set. The producer flashed a smile and thumbs up at you as you took your seat on the stool meant for you. 

“We’re going to be live in 3 minutes. Ready?” 

Between your makeup artist doing some final touches on your face and the sound technician checking the wires and mic-set for your in-ears, you returned the producer’s thumbs up with a confident smile- more confident than you were truly feeling, you were sure. 

“Ready.” 

All too soon, the 2 minutes had passed and you were sat alone in front of the camera, nothing but a mic in your hand as the producer did a countdown- Rolling in 3,2,1-

The first strains of the backing track flowed through your in-ears, your grip on the mic tightening as the repetitive, building melody washed over you like the tune of a haunted nursery rhyme. With the melody came the memories, a barrage of feelings tinged angry red and melancholy pink. 

After all these years, it seemed your love really had to end the way it began- mic in hand, lyrics at your lips and leaden heart in your chest. This time though, he wasn’t the healing balm, he was the twisted knife itself. 

Kim fucking Hongjoong.

“He never calls this late at night, no… But I can tell he’s been drinking all night long.” 

The studio was pin-drop silent except for the soft, dragging lilt of your voice. The track Chris had made for you could catch a listener’s attention all too easily- the magic your voice brought with it soon afterwards only served to hook the listeners more. 

You remembered slipping into the studio one rainy 2 a.m, scrawled sheets of paper feeling heavy and hot in your pocket. Chris had been rightfully concerned with your deceptively put together appearance, knowing exactly what had brought about the torrent of words you had thrown onto the table. 

Chris had always been safe, warm comfort for you- from the days of pulling all-nighters before graduation to the sleepless nights spent recording and producing in your shared studio, your friendship had come a long way.

But you’d shaken your head at him, urging him to look at the sheets. The memory of your pen slicing into the sheets was still burnt onto your fingertips, your vision almost blurring with tears as you scrawled every word that came to mind. Fiery, sensual, vengeful words seared onto the paper, a clear reflection of everything that had silently plagued you every night, every sunset, until you broke.

 “He sounds upset, I’m asking baby where you at, I called you earlier but you didn’t call me back…”

You met Hongjoong a little more than 4 years ago in a dive bar- him, the tired university student looking for a break and you, the evening’s entertainment. Your set had been entirely covers of moody love songs, reminiscent of your own sentiments- all you wanted to do was write your own music but it seemed all rookies were destined to be stuck with small gigs and other artists’ music. 

But for some reason, this one man with electric blue hair that contrasted- clashed, even, with his formal outfit had approached you after you finished your set. Only when he sidled closer to you did you noticed the paint splatters on his cuffs and the tiny earring dangling against his neck. The first thing he told you was that he had fallen in love with your voice and would love to get you a drink so he could hear it more. 

Even in the heartbroken haze you were in, you knew there was something about this odd patch-work quilt of a man with a sparkly smile that you couldn’t shake. Conversation had been uncannily easy after that-

Falling in love with Hongjoong however, hadn’t been a cakewalk by any means. 

 “He’s breaking down, I’m about to lose it… I’m screaming who the fuck were you with…”

Falling for Hongjoong was walking through fire and hail and ice; it was always expecting the worst out of each other but somehow ending up with the best too; to see each other as flawed humans before possible targets of affection. It took a good part of a year for the both of you to acknowledge any sentiment beyond friendship for each other, even more time to consider dating. 

He’d been hesitant at first- so had you. But as Hongjoong murmured to you that fateful evening your relationship began, the thought of not knowing how you’d be together was one he could not digest. Sometimes you wish you hadn’t agreed- but to disagree would’ve been a regretful lie. 

Over the years, it had always warmed your heart to have known without a shadow of a doubt that he would walk through all the world’s calamities for your hand in his.

Kim Hongjoong was perfect, after all. 

The perfect son of a perfect family, the visual arts graduate with a perfect score, the perfect fit for a job as an art gallery’s curator- Surely, his love was tinted with the same shade of perfection as the rest of him?

You were wrong. 

 “I grab my keys you better tell me where you at… he said he fucked up but there’s no taking it back...”

Kim Hongjoong was fickle as a wayward breeze where the matters of the heart were concerned. It was easier for him to let people love him, feel the adoration for him rolling off people’s eyes and bodies than be the person to love freely. Love was vulnerability to him, but gods, did he make vulnerability look gorgeous. 

Maybe the very reason he began to love you at first was because you didn’t care for his perfection.

His words still echoed in your ears sometimes, especially in nights that were woefully sober or afternoons that were hopelessly unproductive. There had been a time when the only things you remembered of the honeyed rasp was from your best dreams, promising you forever in every day- 

Not anymore. All you remembered now was the way he had sounded that night, alcohol and regret mixing badly in his veins, voice rough and stilted and broken as he asked you for forgiveness, for space in your heart despite his mistakes.

 “I gave everything to you and this is what you turn around and do…”

You wish you’d never driven to him after his teary confessions, hoping against hope he was pranking you and had only drunk too much to cater to common sense. You wish you hadn’t walked yourself to his best friends’ night club and have to witness the look of pity Seonghwa and San cast upon before handing Hongjoong over to you. 

You wish you hadn’t put yourself through the utterly tragic ordeal of picking up after him. Especially now, that you know how the future would look after that night. 

The memories steeled your voice through the smooth notes, the music rising and falling as the backing track began to build. You’d struggled to record this section of the song- your breath always seemed to catch and hold when you sang the words, your chest feeling too heavy, tongue too leaden to mouth the next lines. But today, the tune was like second nature to your lips, the sentiment almost easy to express. 

Surely he was watching now, wherever he was, the lyrics’ meaning sinking into his skin with every word. Some tiny, savage part of your brain hoped he felt the same cold terror and sense of unfairness you felt all this while- you hoped he would drown in it until it consumed him, soul and all. 

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

He’d crawled into your bed with you that night, holding you closer than he had ever held you in 3 years. Soothed your tears of pure disappointment and cried way too many of his own, your shoulders shuddering as you pulled each other closer. Murmured apologies a million times, over and over again against your skin as he curled his body around yours, until you fell into a restless sleep. 

You still remember the time-dampened images of the nightmare you had that night, the shadows laughing at you for being an inadequate girlfriend, an unfit person, that he probably cheated because you weren’t doing enough for him. You’d awoken a mere couple of hours after the both of you had nodded off, Hongjoong’s grip on your body still tight despite his state of slumber. 

Was he worried you’d wake up and walk away?

He would find you in your kitchen in his old shirt when he woke up anyway, tired eyes and tired limbs and enough coffee for 2 in the French press. 

 “I wanna know, every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you've been lying…”

A mistake, he’d called it. One-off error in judgement, a single moment in time he had chosen not to listen to his better sensibilities. It had happened once, entirely because of his lapse in judgement, he said. It would never happen again; he swore to you. Promised to you with your hands in his, earnestness in his gaze that you had never been subjected to until now- then again, he’d never given you reason to mistrust him until now. 

You’d asked for a promise from Hongjoong that day- a no-closed-doors policy on your relationship. It should’ve been a no-brainer as far as you were concerned, but it seemed that people like Hongjoong needed the reminder that not all people lived the way they did. That love wasn’t reckless free fall to everybody, a spark that burns fast and bright and fizzles out just as quick. 

 “I wanna know, does she fuck you like I did…I wanna know, and will she love you like I did…”

You wish you’d been less mature about the whole affair. 

Singing the words aloud only made you wish you’d thrown the words at him the first time it happened, instead of now, behind the safety of two screens and physical distance. You should’ve allowed yourself the sheer meltdown that the situation warranted, allowed the rage to take over your system even if it was for those few unfiltered seconds.

Hongjoong’s actions hadn’t deserved the maturity you afforded them. But you couldn’t blame yourself- in those fleeting moments, the primary emotions you had felt was that of inadequacy. You should’ve trusted yourself more.

 “Boy this ain’t how it’s supposed to be...Dancing between someones else’s sheets…”

After the burning hurt from the fiasco died down, it felt like Hongjoong had taken it upon himself to prove to you how special, how important, how absolutely irreplaceable you were to him. In the haze of it all, you ended up loving it. 

The once almost stoic man was now making an effort to be more to you, less of the disappointment he had caused you. He made an effort to talk to you, open up about his frayed relationship with love – hesitant at first and then naturally. 

I care about you. I love you; he’d murmured to the ceiling one night. You were silent, body resting against his as he arranged the sheets higher around your bodies. I wanted to know what we’d be like together and I haven’t regretted a second of it. I can’t imagine my days without you around.  A soft kiss planted against your hairline that you returned against the crook of his neck as sleep claimed you.

 “I can’t believe this is really happening, your guilty conscience is going to be the death of me..”

The next few months were a daily reminder of how much Kim Hongjoong had come to know you over the years of your relationship. Your favourite flowers turned up like clockwork at your desk every Tuesday, accompanying a note in his quick, scratchy handwriting – a new tradition of mid-week dates at experimental restaurants with oddly planned menus. Voice notes of his raspy morning voice sending you sweet affirmations that rung in your ears late into the afternoon. 

Even the way he touched you felt softer, more… reverent. Like he’d had a taste of what he stood to lose and never wanted to think of it again. As each day passed, you found yourself resting easy, basking in the attention and adoration and soft romance of it all.

Looking back on it, you should’ve known. What was it they say about a cheat?

They expect you to be loyal to them despite their faithlessness.

 “You got so caught up in the moment...But she’ll only love you when she’s lonely…”  

The second time it happened, the only thing your heart felt was a wildfire doused in rage and an almost crippling sense of treachery. A fellow artist in the same recording company as you had slipped into the studio late one night, just as you were packing up to head home. She’d pulled you to the couch on the side, holding your hands in hers as she hesitated before asking her questions- Are you sure your boyfriend is faithful? He keeps leaving the club I perform at with other girls?

Your fingers curled tightly around the mic, trying your hardest not to let your other hand clench the fabric covering your legs. You would give the world neither the privilege nor the misfortune of knowing how much truth this song really held. The world didn’t- no, Hongjoong didn’t deserve it. Not anymore.

 “This ain’t a game you better tell me where you're at, No boy, you fucked up and there’s no taking it back..”

You’d dropped by Hongjoong’s apartment that night, hands shaking in your coat pockets and head spinning from the rush of emotions. You had a spare key, and it was only a matter of dropping him a quick text before letting yourself in. Betrayal? Rage? Frustration? Disappointment? It was the disgusting cocktail in the pit of your stomach that led you to snoop through his phone while he was in the shower-

You wish you hadn’t but oh, you’d be damned if you weren’t glad you had.

He’d brought girls to his apartment at the end of so-called club hopping nights with Seonghwa. Every Friday. Ever since he’d made his ‘promise’ to you.

Every single Friday.

He’d bedded some random chick from the clubs and then turned up at your doorstep every weekend like nothing had ever happened.

Every. Single. Friday.

 “I gave everything to you …and this is what you turn around and do..”

You remember slipping out of Hongjoong’s apartment as quickly as you had turned up, faking an emergency at the studio to dash out the front door. Stubbornly holding your tears at bay as you drove back to your own neighbourhood, out of the car and into your apartment. Collapsing on your couch in a daze just as the breakdown began.

You still don’t know if the tears you shed that night were of anger or sadness- with the urge to destroy everything Hongjoong stood for, the only thing you wanted to do was never see him again.

For a second, you were transported back to that disaster of a night, the studio melting away into the familiar walls of your apartment, closing in on you as the despair and bottomless rage set in. There was an edge to your voice as you sang now, more angry than sad like before. Was he listening? Was he able to hear your farewell in the lyrics?

Was he panicking that you found out? Or worse, did he not care at all?

 “Did she have it all, all that you wanted for you to go and break your promise?”

The next morning, you’d woken up with puffy eyes and a heavy heart, but with one clear motive seared into your mind- revenge.

You’d allowed him into your heart, let him build a home there for years and years. You had loved him every way you knew how to- broken at first, unconditionally later. You’d given him trust, a currency you were known to be stingy with- and he turns around and does this to you.

Maybe that was childish of you; maybe a more mature person would’ve broken it off that day, wallowed in heartbreak and made efforts to move on. But no, not you.

If Hongjoong had found it acceptable to take girls home while being in a relationship with you, he would definitely find it acceptable if you aired some of his dirty laundry yourself.

 “I wanna know every secret you’ve been hiding…I wanna know just how long have you been lying..”

Chris had been concerned when you walked into the studio, looking almost entirely functional and not worse for wear at all.

It made sense, your best friend’s worry. It had only been 3 days since…since the incident and besides an update message, you had burrowed yourself at home and entirely unreachable. But here you were today, sheets of paper filled with your scrawl covering the table in front of you- lyrics.

Read them, you’d muttered, shoving the pages towards him- your hands shook slightly, the first crack in your façade. They’re a bit of a mess, but they mostly make sense.

Only you would remember being drunk off your mind on whiskey and later, wine the whole time. Alternating between feverish writing and heartbroken sobbing. Pretending to be completely fine to Hongjoong, telling him to not ‘interrupt your creative process’. Staring out into the starrless night skies and wishing that one day soon, Hongjoong would feel the hell you were feeling now. One day, you would look a camera in the eye and sing these lyrics out loud, for the world to hear, for him to hear. And you’ll be damned if that day, Kim Hongjoong didn’t get his final taste of who he’d just lost.

 “I wanna know…does she fuck you like I did, I wanna know,  will she love you like I did..”

Getting the right feel to the lyrics while recording the song had been all too easy, waving off Hongjoong’s curiosity about your newest project easier so.

It was a surprise for him, you would smile, dropping fleeting kisses against his cheekbones and jaw just the way he liked. He always smiled and dragged your mouth to his own, letting his smile slide against your own, murmuring that he was going to follow you into the studio to take a peek for curiosity’s sake. 

Talk often fizzled out at that point, because god, it was so difficult to stay away from each other’s bodies and out of each other’s arms after the long days of being your own people, strong and resourceful and adult and independent. It was easier to let your muscle memories take over, touch and sense and feel every single wretched thing that Hongjoong was so capable of making you feel.  

 “She won't do you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…she won't touch you like me, she won't love you like me, baby…”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t get a wild sense of pleasure singing those lines, your eyes not leaving the camera pointed at you. Was it revenge well served? A broken heart being healed?

Over the weeks of preparing for the song, you’d realized how true those words were. The burning sense of betrayal and hurt hadn’t faded in the least- you still woke up every morning feeling lesser than, but never again. Never would you let anybody feel like this again.

Nobody would love Hongjoong like you could. It was about time he realized that. Pity, though, that you wouldn’t be around to witness it. 

“She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.”

The music fizzled out into silence, the producers counting down as you stayed still- 3,2,1 cut! In pursuit of the feeling of reckless freedom, Hongjoong had lost the one person he claimed made him feel like he belonged. How unfortunate for him, you mused, as the studio erupted in claps, the producers grinning widely and everybody smiling at each other. In the middle of the chaos, the door swung open- His eyes were wide, short blonde hair a windswept mess against his forehead, the single stalk of your favourite flower hanging limp in his hands. Surely there were paint marks on his cuffs, and the tiny earring would jingle prettily when he moved, but as his gaze met your dead ones, you could only think one thing-

She won't love you like, she won't love you like me.

Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think~ xoxo, Elliana.

Network Tag: @kpopscape​

[minachuuu]

Itzy Reaction to their S/O being Covered in Tattoos

This was my first request for an Itzy reaction and I was so excited because I love those girls so much, I hope you enjoy it!💜✨

Yeji

There was something about you that didn't let her eyes leave your silhouette, sitting across her, all the way at the opposite side of the cafe. Dressed entirely in black, a leather jacket draping around you brought in the exact pinch of mystery that called Yeji's attention. 

But just exactly as she was taking a sip of her iced tea, you had the fantastic idea of taking the leather jacket off, revealing your arms and neckline to be covered with various tattoos, your black shirt hiding so much more. Let's say that Yeji's body forgot how to deal with liquids at that moment, spraying everything over Ryujin, Lia and herself, making the few people around turn around to face them, including you. If she was nervous to talk to you before, now the nerves had doubled adding embarrassment to the mix. 

Standing up to the bathroom to clean herself, Yeji didn't notice you entering a few seconds behind her. She jumped startled when she recognized you, but you approached her with a smile. 

"Ah bummer, your shirt isn't going to dry quickly," You pointed at the obvious, your voice trembling.  You extended your hand, offering her your leather jacket. "Here, use this." 

She nodded, shyly taking the jacket from you. She agreed if you allowed her to buy you a pastry and you accepted with a chuckle. Both of you also found the perfect excuse to ask for your phone numbers. You know, only to return your jacket later. 

Add time to the mixture, and Yeji still doesn't understand exactly how one of the most embarrassing moments in her life brought the most amazing person into her life. 

Now, in the private comfort of your nights together, sometimes when you take your shirt off, she'll embrace you from behind, losing herself watching all the amazing illustrations engraved in your skin, gently caressing her fingers through them. 

Lia

By Chaeryeong's recommendation, this was finally the day that Jisu decided to go and take a walk in the park. But her stroll was interrupted when she heard the soft sound of a guitar playing close to her. She followed the music and directed her to you, who was peacefully sitting on a park bench, playing with chords and strumming patterns. But what caught her attention even more, was the sun lighting up such a variety of colors and pictures all painted across what she was able to see from your body. 

Even if you looked kind of hard to approach, you still awaked a fair amount of interest in Jisu, so she breathed in enough courage to talk to you, approaching slowly. 

"That sounds beautiful!" She tucked one strand of hair in her ear as she fidgeted with her hands. Her eyes tenderly scanning every drawing all over your body, prompted your cheeks to turn bright red. "Is it your song?" 

"Thank you!" You smiled, suddenly awakening something new in Jisu's heart. "It is mine, but I still can't get the lyrics right."

Bingo. She latched from that to make a conversation, offering herself to help you write. You couldn't help but notice how she couldn't stop looking at your tattoos, sometimes completely ignoring what you were saying. A great friendship sparked between you two from that moment on, but day by day, Jisu couldn't keep ignoring the butterflies in her stomach everytime she lost herself in the colorful collage that was your skin. 

So now that you two finally stopped ignoring your feelings towards each other and started dating, don't be surprised if she begs you to use more sleeveless shirts, crop tops, or tries to keep you from putting a shirt on as much as she can when you're alone. Jisu can’t help it, she just finds you a walking work of art, one that makes her go *keyboard smash* all the time. 

Ryujin

Ryujin doesn't really like to be told what to do, so she wasn't really amused by the idea of having someone unknown review her own choreography. But then you walked through the door, and she couldn't understand exactly how to feel about it. Your dark makeup and clothing, covered in tons of tattoos made her heart do flips in all directions, and she couldn't settle on feeling afraid, excited, intimidated or amazed. 

All this confusion made the usually confident and witty Ryujin all flustered as she couldn't even focus on the notes that you gave to her because her eyes refused to leave the illustrations engraved in your body. She only nodded at all your words, convincing herself that it was just fear what you aroused inside of her. 

But she was quickly proved wrong by her own thoughts, as you didn't seem to leave her mind at all; your eyes, your lips, the way your body moved, and especially, every drawing that was painted across your skin.

The next day, Ryujin opened the door and her eyes landed on you, calling all those feelings back in her. You glanced at her reflection through the mirror, smiling at her dumbfounded expression. 

"Oh hey Ryujin! I'm glad you could make it." You turned around, grabbing a little paper bag and handling it to her. "I bought some cookies and a coffee for you, hope you like them!" 

Right there, she melted on the inside. The cute gesture helped get her confidence back, making this rehearsal a blatant back and forth of pure flirting. 

It all grew up to become an amazing relationship, were one of your hobbies is to combine Ryujin's audacious attitude and your threatening appearance to prank people (Mostly Ryujin's groupmates, who are we kidding), but behind closed doors, no one could imagine that the most intimidating couple was all lovey-dovey with each other. 

Chaeryeong 

Look, Chaeryeong isn't one to judge people based on their appearance. She didn't mind that you were covered in tattoos at all, but how can she help it when you're known as the stone cold, intimidating, serious and bossy member of your group? And most of all, how was she supposed to breath now that you were standing right in the same practice room as her? Could you two be friends? Would you like her? Maybe find her cute? But what if you weren't her type? 

Your group and Itzy were collabing for a special stage at a music award show and she couldn't stop staring at you through the mirror, your stoic expression as you reviewed the steps of the choreography. She found her eyes straying to the rest of your body over and over again, tracing your tattoos in her mind, wondering how it felt to touch them. 

The rehearsal came to a break and you dropped over the couch, your members surrounding you. Chaeryeong kept staring from the other side of the room, but was a bit taken aback when, amid conversation, you let out the most gentle chuckle she had ever seen. In general, it was the first time she had ever seen you smile. Impressed by how your amiable aura wasn't going down either, she convinced Ryujin to help her approach you. 

Turns out, your stoic personality was mostly just a concept that you acted for the cameras, but the softer, more real side of you was what cemented her crush over you, especially contrasted with your threatening, and frankly quite attractive looks. Luckily for her, you did find her really cute, and you kept in touch after the awards, allowing much more to flourish between you two. 

Now that you two are happily in a relationship, she doesn't throw away the chance to relish on your tougher side either, running to the safety of your decorated arms every time she needs to forget the world around her. 

Yuna

You first met Yuna in a queue in an amusement park, when you were waiting to get on a ride. You were chatting with your group of friends when she caught your attention, and apparently it was mutual, since she kept staring at you and your few visible tattoos in your arms and neck. You chuckled at her wide eyes, as she locked them with yours. But she wasn't shying away from you. She instantly waved at you with a wide smile, nearing you. Yuna introduced herself, along with Yeji and Ryujin who were going on the ride as well. 

She wasn't afraid to start asking about your tattoos and their meanings, and honestly you didn't mind answering them either. Most of them were new, and you proudly showed them off to someone willing to listen. After a good while chatting and your mutual crush being obvious to everyone around, you both agreed on going up the ride together, since both your groups were in the odd numbers. 

From that day on, an amazing friendship grew between you two, and Yuna never lost the habit of asking for a meaning everytime that you got a new tattoo. Except for one day, where she pointed out one that didn't have any particular explanations, you just had tattooed it because it looked pretty and cool. Yuna nodded silently at the answer, lost in her own thoughts for some minutes. 

"What do you think about tattooing my face?" She blurted out, staring lost at the horizon. 

"Wha-" You blinked, startled out at the sudden question. 

"I am pretty and cool too!" She turned around, not an ounce of a joke in her voice. 

You couldn't help but giggle in response, the way she wasn't afraid to be herself just allowed your crush on her to keep growing everyday. Always enjoying each other's company, you were both excited at the idea of being something more in the future. 

[bunnyofnegativeeuphoria]

Prompt Fill: “Cold”

I’m what they like to call not a clown but the entire circus. I’ve managed to delete one of the asks by accident, but rest assured I did see an anonymous prompter wish for “cold” or something to that effect...

Dear reader, it’s 3,3K words, so here we fucking go, lads.

Islanders

Cleaned up and now also on Ao3

“A room and a bath,” Geralt says without even glancing at the barman, attention fully on the precious cargo in his arms.

“Hang on, Witcher, you can’t just–”

“You’ll get your coin,” he grits through his teeth, “but whether your head is still attached to your neck when you do is for you to decide. Room and a bath. Now.”

A key lands on the countertop. 

“Upstairs and second door on the right.”

 The man shouts to someone behind himself. “Ilde! Hot water for the Witcher, sharpish!” 

“Geralt?” 

His senses turn from the foul stench of old ale and unwashed bodies and funnel inwards towards the shape of Jaskier. His bard moans softly and leans an icy forehead against Geralt’s neck. 

“Hmm?” Geralt murmurs against Jaskier’s hair.

“C-cold.”

He reeks of misery, sharp and undeserved. A great shiver runs through Jaskier, and Geralt tightens his hold around him.

“Cold water will do,” he grunts at the barman.

“But–”

“As fast as you can,” Geralt says, grabbing the key and making for the stairwell.

***

Casting igni in the direction of the hearth, Geralt lays Jaskier out on top of a humble straw mattress and begins to undress him. There’s no cloak, and the fool’s doublet is wet through. It refuses to budge, but Geralt has one ear turned towards Jaskier’s heartbeat and doesn’t hesitate to rip apart the fabric to get to skin. It’s paler than it should be and cold to the touch – cold where on any other day it is warmth itself. His bard gravitates towards sources of heat like a stable cat to an opportune sunbeam, and to exist in his orbit is a blessing greater than any coin Geralt has ever earned. 

The ruined doublet hits the floor with a squelch. Geralt moves to grab Jaskier’s breeches, but a shaking hand stops him.

“I-I r-rather lik-ked that ‘n,” Jaskier says, looking if anything even more unhappy than before. 

His pulse spikes, and worry roils in Geralt’s gut. 

“Doublets are replaceable,” he says. He spares a quick squeeze to Jaskier’s fingers before pulling the breeches and boots off in one desperate, inelegant action.

Jaskier is not a small man, but now, sad and shivering on the cusp of blue-tinged infirmity, he hunches and curls, reducing himself. Geralt misses his all-encompassing business. 

“In here,” comes a voice from the hallway, followed by what looks like the barman and his entire family. Two boys roll a tub in and settle it in front of the fireplace, and the others empty several buckets worth of water into it. 

“More, go on,” Ilde says, and the troop leaves as quick as they come, casting wary glances at Geralt’s swords as they go. 

“W-we’ll h’ve t-to p-pay more,” Jaskier says.

Geralt frowns and throws a threadbare blanket on top of him, inadequate and dusty though it is. 

“If they get the rest of the water within the minute, they can have double.”

“Not double. They’ll ch-cheat you. Always d-do.” Jaskier clasps at the blanket. His hands, normally so clever and expressive, jerk with exhaustion and looming danger. “Not-t worth it.”

“Let me account for what value I keep,” Geralt says. “Not hush. You have to conserve energy.”

Geralt sits down and takes a hold of Jaskier’s hands.

“W-what?”

“Shh.”

He wraps his giant paws around Jaskier’s hands, feeling wiry strength and a lifeline beneath the cold. Pressing his lips to the gap between his own thumbs, he blows warm air into the space between them. When he looks up after the third blow, he finds Jaskier looking at him. He smells less scared now. There’s a thought dancing on the tip of the bard’s tongue, but Geralt gives him a quelling look.  

“Right,” Ilde says from the doorway, and buckets follow with the kind of efficiency born of a strong desire to done and elsewhere. In less than a minute they are alone once more, door closing with a firm press. 

A steady stream of controlled fire erupts from Geralt’s hand, and he guides it across the surface of the tub until steam rises like from Roach’s back when she’s been safely put to bed in a warm stall after a day of cold and damp. The water ripples as he tests the temperature.

“G-Geralt?” Jaskier is sitting up, blanket having dropped to the ground. “C-can I?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says. Jaskier’s heartbeat has yet to settle, but his lips have lost their frosty stiffness. Though dry and cracked, they look pinker and plumper than before. “It’s all for you.” 

Gathering Jaskier in his arms once more, he hurries to the tub. He lowers Jaskier as well he can, but when they break the water’s surface–

“Ow,” Jaskier hisses. “Ow, G-Geralt.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to–”

“Hurts,” Jaskier presses, turning his face into Geralt’s neck with the same blind faith as he had when Geralt had come across him only an hour earlier, sodden and lost on the mucky road to the northern realms. His face, however, is not defiant or proud. This is a quiet pain, and Geralt aches in a place he had long thought broken beyond the repair of all charity. 

“I know. Shhh. Hold on to me,” he says. “All in one go.” 

Hands tighten weakly around his arm, and then he sinks Jaskier into the tub.

He doesn’t yell.

He doesn’t yell, but he does whimper – small and vulnerable and a thousand leagues beneath the surface of what he is entitled. 

Geralt pulls his arms away.

“D-don’t g–”

“I’m not.”

Stripping down with stern efficiency, Geralt gets in the tub himself, taking care to not jostle Jaskier. Water spills over the side as he guides Jaskier against his chest, making sure to move his medallion so the sharp angles of the wolf’s head don’t do him harm. It is cramped, and he settles in to cover as much of Jaskier’s surface area with his own body. They sit with their knees bent and peaking out of the water like make-believe islands – an archipelago of muscle and bone.

“How are you feeling?”

Jaskier breaths deeply and leans his face against Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Like I’m b-being poked by a h-hundred n-needles.” 

Geralt draws an arm around Jaskier’s chest, using his other hand to cover one of Jaskier’s knees. 

“Rest.”

“I-I’m so...I shouldn’t h-hav–”

He shakes his head. Jaskier must feel it for he falls silent again.

“Rest.”

***

Jaskier falls asleep in the tub with Geralt wrapped around him like a giant octopus from out of a Skelligan skald. The rhythm of his heart gradually calms to his regular song – almost bird-like by Geralt’s reckoning. Twice he warms the bathwater, content to let his meditation be guided by the measure of Jaskier’s recovery. He wills his own warmth to seep from his skin and through Jaskier’s, and if something else should flow with it, then he reckons he is far too old to be duplicitous now. 

“You needn’t stay on my account.”

Geralt looks down into the wild blue yonder.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

The thought sits awkwardly in him, pinching with the discomfort of new shoes. 

“I want you to do what you want to do.”

“Jaskier–”

“Stay,” Jaskier says on the wave of a quiet exhale. Geralt watches the word’s traces whisk across the water and sends a small flicker of flame after it. Steam rises once more, and Jaskier sighs, and it sounds acceptably content.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. On the whole, practically divine.”

There’s a snobbish artfulness to Jaskier’s tone now, and Geralt allows himself the press of a smile against Jaskier’s hairline. 

“Better or worse than a weekend with the Countess de Stael?”

“Darling, must you? I’ve quite reached my limit with humiliation for today.” There’s a tightness to his lips as Jaskier speaks, and Geralt frowns.

“Will you tell me why you were on the road, no cloak or lute to be seen?” 

Jaskier looks down, and his scent turns abruptly with embarrassment, smelling faintly like something is burning. 

“I suppose I’ll have to tell you.” He looks up with a tinge of defiance in his eyes, but it’s no hardship for Geralt to keep looking at him. “But you’ll have to earn it first.”

“Oh?”

“Wash my hair?”

There is life in his cornflower blues again, and that is reward enough for any challenge. Without a word, Geralt gets up and out of the tub. Water drips all over the creaky floorboards as he makes for the saddlebags brought up by one of the boys. His nose guides him to a bottle of oil scented with mild lavender, and he picks up a cup on his way back to Jaskier. 

With pink-tinged cheeks, Jaskier watches him climb back in behind him.

“I didn’t mean–”

Geralt huffs. 

“Yes you did. Hush.”

Cup in hand, Geralt guides Jaskier’s head into a tilt and scoops water over his hair, using his other hand to block the water from running into the bard’s eyes.

“You know, telling me to hush really isn’t as charming as your dour self might imagine.”

“Try sitting quietly in the knowledge of being,” Geralt says, feeling his lip twitch with the sort of maddening lack of control that eases into existence whenever Jaskier is around.

“Unbearable. Take that back.”

“Close your eyes.”

Jaskier closes his eyes immediately, and Geralt finds he has to swallow past all his want at the blatant display of trust. He spills some oil into his palms and wonders if Jaskier would let him do this if he knew the true shape of Geralt’s heart. Whole kingdoms believe it to be nonexistent or at the very least shrivelled and decaying. Jaskier thinks different. If he is to be believed, Geralt’s heart is like a honeyed bun – warm and dripping with a sweetness that Geralt knows was exterminated the second he saw Kaer Morhen rise in front of his too-young eyes. Little does Jaskier know that if you were to open Geralt’s chest and break it open past ribs and sinew and hold his heart, you would find it alternatingly smooth like silk chemises and rough with fingertip callouses, beating a rhythm to whatever tune it pleases. 

“Are you alright, darling?”

Jaskier has tilted his head back even further to look at him nearly upside down.

“Sorry,” Geralt mutters, hurrying to start to run his hands through Jaskier’s hair. It is brown and short and soft to the touch. With every turn of his hands, he washes away the smell of Jaskier’s hurt and replaces it with lavender and his own touch.

“Did I say divine before? I must have lost my wits. This is my religion.”

Geralt feels a chuckle rumble up his throat and into the still bedroom air. Eyes closed again, Jaskier seems to settle in on his own terms, and Geralt is more than happy to let him.

“Did you know there was an inventor from the southern continent – further south even than Nilfgaard – who discovered the measurement for density by sitting in a bathtub?”

Jaskier prattles on about mathematics and science and a man running naked down cobbled streets, and Geralt lets the sound of his voice cleanse him of all worries. He finishes washing Jaskier’s hair, and rinses it with the cup. Afterwards, he gathers more oil and settles his hands across Jaskier’s shoulders. There’s a hitch in Jaskier’s throat as Geralt begins to gentle the oil into soft, pale skin.

“G-Geralt?”

Geralt frowns.

“Are you cold again?”

“No.” Jaskier’s voice sounds small.

“May I continue?”

Jaskier’s chest expands with a visible breath.

“Please,” he says, shoulders gaining a healthy dusting of pinkish glow. He starts talking again when Geralt continues to oil his skin, Jaskier moving on to a fevered and slightly panic-tinged monologue about the Cintran sonnet form.

Jaskier’s body is strong beneath him. His skin bears only a few scars from youthful mishaps and a characteristic refusal to be left behind. There is one running length of his back that he earned as a boy slipping down a rocky hill. Another – much smaller – has nicked his ear from when he did not move fast enough away from a drowner’s grasp. Geralt remembers tending to the wound in a furious silence, and he also remembers the apologetic look of abject misery that trailed him for a full week thereafter. It is the longest he has ever heard Jaskier be quiet, and he is grateful the bard has never again felt cause to curb his words in his presence.

I love him, Geralt thinks. 

It’s not the first time he’s thought it, and he knows it will not be the last. He will carry the knowledge with him for however many centuries he may have left, and he will die with its truth glowing in every part of his body – an idea so well lived and nurtured that when his rotting corpse becomes earth once more around him will grow a ring made of dandelions and buttercups.

They have bathed together many times, but though Jaskier washes him after practically every monster fight, Geralt has until now not had the opportunity to return the favour. In the beginning he had no desire to. After that he had no cause to. Now, as he watches Jaskier’s nervous energy dispel at every gentle touch of Geralt’s hand, he thinks that perhaps he’s never needed more cause than that he wishes to. 

Geralt may not have as much experience as Jaskier when it comes to bathing another person, but he finds it comes easy when he thinks of how Jaskier bathes him. He thinks of Jaskier’s hands on him, soothing touches on bruised skin – careful even when minor wounds have long healed. He thinks of clever fingers massaging his neck and back. He thinks of timid motions turning methodical with confidence for every evening spent plucking endrega entrails out of white hair. At Jaskier’s waist, Geralt’s hands still. He thinks of – he thinks of how he himself has only ever given impersonal washes to his brothers, cleaning the necessary wounds and skirting quickly past the groin to everyone’s better happiness. He thinks of two nights ago – on the cusp of their yearly parting – how Jaskier had cleaned his thighs, his hips, the vee of his abdomen… 

He thinks of Jaskier with a washcloth, strong with tender caress between Geralt’s fingers – between Geralt’s toes. 

He thinks of the care and acceptance that saturates every action. 

He thinks Jaskier certainly deserves it. He deserves to have the same love – for love he now realises it is – reflected back at himself with as much willingness and devotion. And for that reason alone he shall have it.

Jaskier’s left knee has a thick scar on it from when he tried to ride Roach without permission and she dumped him in a field.

“Darling? Your face looks very Geralt-y.”

He looks to see Jaskier’s face inches from his own.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Brooding? Plotting? Dreaming? I haven’t the foggiest. What are you thinking about?”

“I think our knees look like islands.”

Silence falls save for the occasional sound of a drop of water hitting the now tepid bath and the comforting crackle of the fireplace. Geralt feels Jaskier’s toe twitch next to his own before he shifts, leaning back against Geralt’s chest, and raises his leg straight up into the air.

“I suppose that makes our leg hairs the islanders,” Jaskier says in such perfect sincerity. 

Geralt swallows.

“Where is your lute?”

He feels rather than hears Jaskier’s sigh as he puts his leg back into the water.

“Hopefully still back at the Squealing Pig.”

For a second, Geralt is stunned.

“Wh–”

“I left it–”

“On purpose?” 

Geralt doesn’t think his eyebrows could rise any higher if he willed them to.

“Of course not! Well, perhaps. Not really, though. It’s hard to explain.”

“Explain.”

“You left.”

As if in agreement, they both pause to let that short truth hang in the air like a brightly coloured flag. 

“I left because it’s winter. We always part for winter.”

“I know.”

“You even hugged me goodbye and waved me off.”

“I know.”

“You–”

“I know.” Jaskier digs his forehead into Geralt’s clavicle so hard it hurts, but Geralt finds he has no intention to ever ask him to move. “I know I did, and then I woke the next day, and you were gone, and I felt like something was missing, and then I forgot my lute and my bag and my cloak, and I set off after you.”

There’s a warmth brewing beneath Geralt’s skin, and it ignites at every touchpoint shared between them. 

“And then it snowed,” he says.

“And then it snowed,” Jaskier says, “and it was too late to go back, but I didn’t have my cloak, and I didn’t have my lute so I could play my way to a room. So I kept walking, but it was so cold, and I got lost, and then…”

I love him, Geralt thinks.

“And then you fell asleep in the woods,” Geralt says.

Jaskier rests his hand over Geralt’s heart.

“And then you found me,” he says.

“And you scared me half to death,” Geralt says. 

“And here we are.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt sounds and does not know what to say. Words leap out of Jaskier like pufflballs in a summer breeze, scattering dandelion seeded meaningfulness all across the northern continent. He doesn’t know what to say, and so he gentles his hand down Jaskier’s side, curls his legs up more, and brings Jaskier even closer to him. Jaskier gasps into his neck as Geralt settles him in his lap, and then – slowly, tentatively, achingly – arms come around Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt turns his head and nudges Jaskier’s nose with his own, their foreheads resting together in a pleasure so perfect that where he to die in the morning he would do so with the knoweldge that he knew the touch of happiness. 

Hands caress through his hair and cup the side of his face, a thumb stroking back and forth over his cheek, and he can feel it’s well pruned from the water. Jaskier gasps again, almost as if on a sob, but no tears come.

“Geralt, I–” he croaks, faltering as he draws the knuckles of his right hand up and down Geralt’s neck. “Geralt, I think you’re the most magnificent…” 

He tightens his arms around Jaskier and feels his every breath dance across his lips. 

“I think you’re the most magnificent person I’ve ever met. You’re–” Jaskier laughs and shakes his head so their foreheads rub together. “Geralt, I don’t even have the words, I–”

“I do,” Geralt says.

Jaskier blinks.

“Y–you do?”

I love him, Geralt thinks.

“I love you,” Geralt says, not for a second looking away from Jaskier’s face so that he may see the hope, the surprise, and the happiness write themselves across him like an open book. And here they come, and there they go, and here love is to stay. 

Jaskier makes a noise – relief and desperation all in one – and then cracked lips are on his own, and Geralt kisses back. He kisses soft, he kisses gentle, and he kisses joy. 

“You really did know what to say,” Jaskier laughs.

“Mmm,” Geralt says, kissing him again. 

Jaskier cups his face between both hands. 

“Dear heart, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says and draws breath as if to continue on forever and ever. 

Geralt kisses him one more time, feeling Jaskier’s lips curve up into a helpless smile.

“Not the most complicated rhyme scheme you’ve ever come up with, my lark,” he murmurs. 

“Darling,” Jaskier laughs, “I’ll write you so many songs.”

Liked it? Prompt me!