#in case some of you needed to see this today

[buncatz]

sick hoddie

paring: boyfriend!seokmin x gn!reader

genre : kinda hurt/comfort?, fluff

waring(s): reader is sick and going through a bad time, reader is smaller than seokmin, sweet loving boyfriend!seokmin, seokmin being a sweetheart, mentions of reader feeling inferior, a lot of love.

A/N: i been sick all this week and i'm feeling like shit so i thought that while i rest i can write about being take care of, this is my first long "fic" and english isn't my first language so im sorry if you see any errors anyways enjoy （╹◡╹）

seokmin usually lets people see what he thinks or feels, but the only thing he couldn't expose himself would be to talk about how much he likes to see you in his hoodies, at first it was normal, he realized from the beginning realize how forgetful you are, on one of your first dates the time passed quickly than he thought and soon enough it was night, normally the weather tends to get cold, you being yourself forgot about bringing a hoodie just in case, but Seokmin, seeing how uncovered you were, didn't hesitate for a second and he offered you his hoodie.

this was his downfall

Seeing yourself so small when wearing his sweatshirt, along with that feeling that everyone around you knew was his sweatshirt and that you were now occupying it for some reason filled him with pride and love.

But this was just the beginning

Now a few months has passed, you and seokmin are celebrating 5 months of being together, he has always been a romantic so he decided to invite you on a date, everything was fine until now, you didn't expect to wake up so sick. When you woke up the first thing you felt was a huge headache, combined with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, it was the perfect match for feeling like shit

You decided to continue with the day and you got up to wash your face. When you did so, you felt a breeze of cold and loneliness consuming you. A feeling of isolation was so big that you just wanted a hug and to feel good sooner, remembering that your boyfriend a few days ago "unintentionally" left his hoodie in your place, you didn't think twice and put it on. At the moment you did so, you felt the smell of your boyfriend invading your nostrils and the heat of the sweatshirt helped you feel a little better.

After a few minutes of sitting on your bed complaining while you coughed and sneezed, you heard the ringtone of your phone. When you answered it, you were welcomed with the melodious voice of your boyfriend, "good morning sweetie, how did you sleep? Are you ready for our day?" he asked enthusiastically, you instantly felt guilty upon hearing so much emotion on his part, when you opened your mouth to respond your body betrayed you (more than it already was) and with a weak voice you replied "good morning handsome, I slept well but I waked up being sick, I'm so sorry" Seokmin, being the attentive boyfriend, was able to realize the state you were in, not taking any importance to the plans he had for today and dedicating all his attention to you, he spoke "hey it's okay, Do you want me to go see you?" He asked gently, probably even if you refused he would come anyway, but you felt too tired to fight him so you just accepted with a weak smile.

After a few minutes you heard a knock on the door, with the little strength you had you went at a slow pace to open the door, when you did so you were greeted by the warm smile of your boyfriend "I'm sorry if took too long honey, I went to buy some things for you." "he said lovingly and then upon entering he kissed you on the forehead you replied with a hug.

He instantly realized that the hoodie you were wearing was his, feeling your weak touch made him realized how much you needed him, a few minutes after his arrival you found yourself wrapped in blankets as he showed you the things he bought you, among them were medicines, some vegetables and your favorite snacks.

Throughout the morning he was constantly checking on you, first he made you take the medication that he previously bought, while he tucked and left you in a comfortable place, he went to the kitchen to make you the miraculous "mingyu's sick soup" that in his words always helped him get better when he got sick, every now and then he would come back to you asking about your health.

When Seokmin finished cooking, he brought you the food. At this rate, you couldn't resist anymore and you burst into tears, which alerted your boyfriend.

"Hey honey, what's wrong? Don't you want to eat?" He asked worriedly as he took your face in his hands carefully wiping your tears with his thumbs. As you calmed down you looked at him with a pout and opened your mouth "I'm sorry for ruining our day, now we could have done what you had planned but you're here taking care of me." as if I were a child" you said between sobs, you tried to speak again but Seokmin's voice cut you off "hey beautiful, it's okay, you haven't ruined the day, if I'm here it's because I want to take care of you because I love you and I want to see you well "Apart from the fact that I don't care what I had planned, what I wanted was to spend the day with you" he said softly while leaving small kisses on your head, after reassuring you he began to feed you, with the excuse that you don't have to do any extra work, you just have to rest and let him love you.

In what remained of the day, Seokmin dedicated it to you, making sure you ate, that you were comfortable and, above all, showering you with kisses and hugs, even with your protests that you were going to make him sick, he couldn't care less since he The only thing I wanted was to see you smile.

Now you were watching the series that you liked so much, Seokmin was under you while his arms surrounded you, his hand was gently placed on your head giving you small caresses and it was at that moment where you realized that Seokmin's love was enough to be able to make you feel better than you ever thought.

[visceravalentines]

small town, sunday night

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

a discarded scene from a longer fic. Bo's pretty sure by now you know who you belong to, but he oughta make sure, just in case. on ao3 here if you wanna.

2.4k words. porn with plot if you squint. extremely dubious consent. Stockholm syndrome. forced exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, emotional manipulation. tried out something new where the narration is written more in Bo's voice and i'm interested to see if that works for you or nah so lmk.

The whole family’s gathered in the den on a Sunday night. It ain’t tradition, not really, it’s just that if everyone’s gonna get together it’s gonna be on Sunday. 

Nobody felt like cookin’ and he don’t trust you ‘round the knives yet, so Les picked up some fried chicken from the Kroger and Bo said grace and you behaved yourself like a nice young lady, and now everybody’s sittin’ in front of the television drinkin’ beer and watchin’ football like some kinda all-American family. 

He’s got you sat on his lap in a sundress that belonged to some other bitch before you. It don’t fit you right, barely covers your ass, but that’s fine by him. His brothers keep eyeing you like you’re the skin mag by the cash register. He'll let ‘em look; in fact, he wants them to look. Plus it freaks you out, makes you press yourself against his chest in search of protection and boy, if that don’t make him wanna laugh out loud. He’s all too happy to oblige, wrappin’ you in his arms and whisperin’ sweet sugary bullshit in your ear. You’re servin’ yourself up to him on a silver platter and you don’t even realize it. 

He snags the six-pack off the side table and hands it to you, watches you wrestle a beer from the plastic ring and pop the tab for him without being asked. 

“Good girl,” he says, and kisses your cheek when he takes the can from you. You're bein’ such an angel today that it’s got him nostalgic for that bitch with the bad attitude. He wonders if she's gone for good or if he could dig around in that pretty head of yours and find her. “You want one?” 

You hesitate. He watches you do the math. You know by now you can’t get somethin’ for nothin’, but apparently you think you got plenty to give because you nod quietly. 

“G’on.”  He dangles the six-pack in front of you and lets you pick one for yourself. He watches the way you set your lips on the rim of the can, watches your throat bob as you swallow. Your gaze shifts uncertainly to him and he winks at you. You almost—almost—give him a shaky little smile. 

You adjust yourself in his lap, tug on your dress, try to get comfortable. He rests his chin on your shoulder and waits for you to settle. He likes the smell of his soap on your skin, even if it makes him miss the animal stench of you from before. Bringin’ you home was a good call. You clean up sweet and so far you’ve been learnin’ your lessons real well. Shit, he’s almost proud of you. 

Once you’ve mellowed out, sippin’ on your beer and pretendin’ this is where you wanna be, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips twitching at the hem of your skirt. He watches you frown and glance down at his hand and then back up at the TV like you think you can ignore him. He pushes your skirt up an inch or so and bites back a smirk when you shift and squeeze your knees together, shooting an anxious glance in the direction of his brothers. 

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” he whispers. You answer with your eyes, give him this pleading look that makes him want to tear that dress off you right here, right now. “You’re alright. Watch the game.” 

Reluctantly, you turn back to the TV with this blank expression on your face that tells him he has your full attention. He moves his hand between your legs and gives your waist a hard squeeze when you stiffen. When you glance at him again he treats you to an ice-cold smile. 

This is a test, girl. Better hope you got a shot at passin'.

You’re bare beneath the dress ‘cause what would you need panties for, and he worms his hand between your thighs until his fingers find that soft, warm center of you. You jerk like a mare tryin’ to shake off a fly, but you don’t make a sound. He probes until his middle finger slips like silk into your slit almost up to the second knuckle and Jesus, girl, you’re so wet it makes his mouth water. This is why he never listens to you, because you don’t even know that you’re lying when you do it. 

He eases his finger out of you and back in deeper, watches your lips part but no sound come out. He does it again and your lashes flutter like a doll’s. You’re sittin’ still as a statue for now but he’s gonna break you. Promise. 

“You been so good, baby girl,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His thumb prods at your clit and you strangle the life out of a gasp as it tries to sneak into the room. “Wanna make sure you know how much I appreciate you behavin’ yourself.” He rubs that sweet spot in lazy circles and savors the way your back arches slow, so slow, tryin’ so hard to keep it a secret that he’s finger-fucking you ten feet from his family. 

You think they don’t know, huh?  You think they don’t see you’re nothin’ but a slut?  Maybe you oughta think a little less.

You get that look on your face like you’re determined to take back control of yourself but you belong to him, girl, that body is his. When he pushes another finger into your pussy your toes curl on the arm of the chair and this little moan makes it out alive and both his brothers were raised huntin’ so they know what a creature in distress sounds like and all the sudden, you’re the Sunday evening special. 

“Well looky here,” Les says, and wolf whistles. 

Your eyes go wide and you cover your face with your hands and Bo can’t help it, he breaks into a grin. He thought he’d wrung all the shame right outta you by now, but apparently he thought wrong. 

You peer over your fingers at him with tear-filled eyes and this time, you might just be cryin’ for real. You look so betrayed it makes him sick, makes him wish he could take it back just so he can do it to you again. 

“’S alright, baby, they’re just lookin’,” he coos.

“We are most certainly lookin’,” Les agrees, and ordinarily Bo would smack him, but the way your lip quivers makes his dick twitch. 

“Pretend they ain’t even here,” he says low in your ear. “Unless you like that sorta thing. You like bein’ watched, honey?  You some kinda slut?”

He already knows the answer even if you don’t. He can tell by the way that sweet little cunt keeps spasin’ around his fingers like somethin’ dying. And you don’t deny it, just keep beggin’ him to stop with those big doe eyes. He don't gotta work hard to pull your focus back to that ache between your hips. All it takes is a little spit on his thumb, a little less friction on that poor swollen clit, and you’re melting in his hands. 

“I’m just showin’ ‘em, baby,” he whispers. “Just makin’ sure they know you’re mine.” 

He collects your wrists with his free hand and pulls them down to expose your face. You make a sound, some kinda protest, but you don’t fight him off like you used to. That girl’s been buried six feet deep inside you and you’re all that’s markin’ her grave. 

“Hey Vince. Do me a favor?”  Bo tosses his head towards the camera sitting on the coffee table where he left it, a brand-new roll of film ready and waitin’ inside. His twin snatches it up without question and puts his goddamn gift to good use. 

You’re fightin’ it hard, makin’ him work for it, but he knows your body better than you do by now. When you cum, you try to hide it, bitin’ your lip and screwin’ up your face. But you can’t keep that pussy from grippin’ him tight, throbbin’ like your life depends on it. You squeeze his hand. A whine sneaks out of your throat and he catches it in his mouth, swallows it whole, savors it to the last.

You slump against his chest, let your head roll into the hollow of his shoulder because it's got nowhere else to go. You're soakin’ his shirt, soakin’ his hand. You're made of water, girl. Maybe that's why you make him so goddamn thirsty. 

“Well she’s a delight,” Les says, slaps his thighs, stands up. “I'm gonna head home ‘n jerk off unless you gents need anything.”

He has the gall to reach for one of the Polaroids Vince is layin’ out on the coffee table like playing cards and Bo hisses through his teeth. 

“Leave it. I ain't handin’ out souvenirs.”

Les rolls his eyes and slinks off like a stray mutt. Vincent looks for a second like he might make a case for himself, but thinks better of it and rightly so. He hands Bo the stack of photos and creeps back downstairs where he belongs and now it's just you and him and the TV static. 

You're stiff as a board in his arms but you're clingin’ to his shirt with all you got so which is it, woman? He kisses your temple and starts shufflin’ through the pictures. Mama's favorite son ain't immune to the charms of the pornographic and most of them center on the view up your skirt, the curve of your ass, your juice shinin’ on his knuckles. 

But there's one, just one, of your face lookin’ up at him. With these big, round eyes fixed on him and your hands cupped together in front of your chest. You look like you're prayin’, girl. Like you're worshiping him. 

He licks his lips, looks down at you. You’re starin’ straight ahead into space, head on his chest, tits swellin’ against the bodice of that dress as you breathe deep in and out. He can tell you're searchin’ for the way back to that place you used to go, safe and warm without him. 

You can't find it. It ain't there anymore. All you got is what you got.

“Can we go to bed?” 

He’s surprised you’re speakin’ to him. Your voice is low and rough from the tears. You don't look at him until he tucks his finger beneath your chin and tilts your face up. There's somethin’ bright and broken in your eyes like glass. 

“Please.”

He hates givin’ you what you want, doesn't want you gettin’ the wrong idea about who's in control here. He can't be spoilin’ you any more than he already has. But he prizes that look of relief and gratitude you give him when he's generous. That little furrow between your brows that melts away when he's good to you. 

“Sure, baby.”

There it is. You slump against him beneath the force of your relief and fuck you for the way his hands move to hold you without him thinkin’ about it. 

He don't carry you to bed. You're not a goddamn princess no matter what you might think of yourself. But you drop that dress that ain't yours to the floor and crawl naked into his sheets and when he climbs into bed beside you, you inch your way over ‘til you're pressed up against his ribs. 

He can barely hear you breathin’. You're hardly even there. The old you would be rippin’ into his stomach, thrashin’ fit to snap your own spine. This new bitch, though, she’s manageable. Sweet, even. 

Probably you don't mean for him to hear it but something like a sob sneaks out of you and it gives him butterflies. He rolls onto his side and slings his arm around you. 

“Don't cry, now. You're alright.”

You shrink into him, make yourself small and bite-sized. You need him so bad and he knows it, figures you’re startin’ to figure it out too. What would you do without me, huh?

“Was I too mean, baby?” You choke on those tears and he bites his lip. “I'm sorry…you forgive me?”

You whimper, can't commit. It ain't your fault you're stuck tryin’ to make sense of it all, ‘specially with him feelin’ you up like he is. He can't keep a straight face, grinnin’ into the back of your neck. “I just got carried away, showin’ off my girl.” He pushes his hips against your ass. “You are my girl, right?”

A breath shudders through your body. You arch your back, don't even know you're doin’ it. He wraps his hand around your throat like a collar, nice and snug, squeezes just a little to get you back on course. “I asked you a question. You got an answer for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I'm your girl.”

Your voice breaks and whew, he's got blood rushin’ every which way. “Tell me you forgive me.”  

You don’t respond. He tightens his grip just beneath your jaw, brings his lips to your ear. 

“Fuckin’ answer me, huh?  You forgive me?  I gotta hear it, baby doll, or I’ll be up all night.”  

His fingers dig into your flesh. He can feel you shaking like a leaf in the wind with fear or fury or something else he can put to use. He’s grindin’ against that ass, just about ready to flip you facedown and fuck the sense back into you, when you finally give him what he wants. 

He always gets what he wants, baby. Haven’t you figured that out by now?  

“I forgive you,” you rasp, and he loosens his grip and feels your tits press against his arm as you suck in air. 

“Ain’t you sweet,” he says, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head, and when he rolls back an inch or two you scoot right along with him until your back is flush to his chest again, and that’s fuckin’ hilarious, huh?  Just can’t get enough. 

He lays in the dark and feels your breath on his knuckles, feels it hitch, feels it slow, feels it mellow out and go feather-soft, and before he knows it, he’s out like a light. 

You wear him the fuck out, girl. 

[cupcakeslushie]

Is it black face/wrong if ur white but make ur oc (character that represents u) black?

also is it black face to cover ur face and skin with black on a program before posting because u don’t trust the internet?

not tryna be offensive. just the trust these rats on the internet.

sorry if this is offensive that’s why i’m asking. so i know what’s right and wrong.

should i just use hot pink to cover or something?

Hey anon. So, I’m not really sure why you’re asking me, a turtle blog this (/LH), but it seems like you have genuine questions, so I’ll try to give genuine answers.

As for your first question, I would give a very strong yes. That is wrong. Making a sona that represents you, and changing the skin tone to black, when in fact, you are not a person of color, is not an okay thing to do. Even if you think you have only good intentions, and don’t believe this change carries much meaning. There have been cases in the past of people in fandoms lying about their race to excuse bad takes, conduct, and basically trying to garner false sympathy. It’s always best to just be honest. Still, there is lying, and then there is being creative. If you’d like to make a fantastical sona, and have them be some type of fun looking fantasy character/creature, that is one thing. That has no real world implications behind the design. Go for that! My sona is a green and yellow frog demon thing! It’s fun to go crazy with it!

As for covering your face with like….say a black box, like a censor bar. That is not the same thing as black face, if I’m understanding your second question correctly? The whole body thing seems excessive, when just covering your face with a bar will do, however…

I’m really not trying to be rude, but from your questions and concerns I can’t help but think you sound rather young. So my actual advice would be to just not show your face at all. If you are this unsure, and if you don’t really trust the people who would be seeing your face, then you shouldn’t be sharing it in the first place. I know our social media culture today doesn’t put a lot of emphasis on internet safety, but there’s really no reason you need to be showing what you look like to the internet. If you want to make a Sona to represent you, that’s totally something you can do, but maybe you should hold off on sharing real pics of yourself.

Please be safe! 💚

[fluentmoviequoter]

Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You have what some might consider to be an odd celebrity crush. Until you meet him in real life, that is. | 1.1k+ words of fluff!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

As you twirl your straw in your drink, you tune out the conversation of your friends. The message to get ready had come last minute, with only a few minutes to prepare for an outing before your best friend arrived to pick you up. You had been watching a true-crime documentary when the message came through, and rather than listen to your friends discuss their weekend plans, you think about the case in the show. Or, more specifically, one of the officers who worked the case.

“Hello,” one of your friends calls.

She draws the word out and waves a hand in front of your face, which you bat away when your attention returns to the restaurant and the people around you.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “What are we talking about?”

“Celebrity crushes!” she cheers. “Mine is Tom Cruise.”

“Gross! He’s old enough to be your dad,” another girl comments.

“And he can pay for everything like my dad, too.”

“Can we move on?” someone interrupts. “Who’s yours?”

“Mine?” you clarify, pointing at yourself. “Oh, uh, you probably haven’t heard of him.”

“C’mon, spill!” they encourage.

You shake your head, and the friend closest to you repeats, “Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Tim Bradford,” you answer softly.

“Who?”

“He’s a cop, and he’s been in some documentaries. Like the ones with Corey Harris and Aaron Thorsen. Plus, a new one with doppelgangers,” you explain.

“So, he’s a cop, not a celebrity,” your best friend argues.

“He’s been on TV! More than once,” you point out.

“Girl, you know I love you, but that’s more of a ‘hear me out’ than a celebrity crush.”

You shake your head and sit back in your seat. The sooner you get home to finish the documentary, the better.

The next day, after you’ve finished the newest documentary and your crush on Tim Bradford has strengthened, you find yourself out shopping with your friends. Thankfully, they’ve moved on from the celebrity crush comment. While you’re in the third store of the day, you wait in the dressing rooms to rate your best friends’ choices while the other girls shop.

An employee approaches you with a nervous smile and asks if anyone else is in the fitting area.

“Yes, one of my friends is trying something on. Is everything okay?” you answer.

“Oh, of course. I don’t want to alarm you, but we’ve locked the doors because there are some suspicious characters in the area. The police are on the way, so everything will be under control soon.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say.

She sighs in relief that you were kind about the ordeal, then walks away to alert other customers. You look toward the large windows on the storefront but don’t see anything happening in the parking lot.

A few minutes later, after your friends have purchased their items and are waiting to leave, two police officers walk to the locked door and knock on it. The employee you spoke to earlier rushes to let them in and obeys when the male officer instructs her to lock the door again.

“Ladies, we’re with the LAPD,” the shorter man says. “Our colleagues are outside handling the situation as we speak. However, we need your help; if you’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary today, please meet me at the counter and we’ll fill out a report.”

The employees follow him to the counter, and you realize that he is in the documentaries you’ve been watching. As you turn to look outside again, you see the other officer.

“Are you Sergeant Tim Bradford?” you ask.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, I just watched the documentaries you were in and thought it was you. Your insight was informative; I liked listening to your side of the case.”

He smiles kindly and says, “I’m glad.”

You nod, then step back and look around the store. Unsure how much longer you’ll have to wait, you take a moment to look at the merchandise. You usually tag along on shopping trips but don’t buy anything. Your friends have different tastes than you, and an easier time buying things for themselves. One item catches your eye, and you run your finger over it. They have your preferred size, and you tap it a few times before you look away again.

Unknown to you, Tim watches you. He’s seen people come up to Aaron, Lucy, and even Nolan, and claim to have seen them on television. Those encounters usually end with someone asking for a picture, an autograph, and, once, to get their cousin released early. This is the first time he’s heard a genuine compliment, and he’s happy to have been the one you chose to give it to.

“Officer Bradford?” his partner calls. “A word?”

You smile at Tim when you look toward him, and with his eyes already on you, he notices immediately. He dips his chin as he walks past you, and you walk across the room to your friends.

“Wait, is that your celebrity crush?” your best friend whispers. “You didn’t say he was like… Abercrombie model hot!”

You shrug, and she turns to your other friends to talk about how attractive the officers are. Your gaze wanders back to the only thing in the store you’d ever consider buying, but you shake your head and look at Tim Bradford instead.

���The situation has been handled and the area is safe now. You’re free to go,” he announces. “Thank you for your help.”

Your friends rush out, eager to get to another store, but you walk toward the door at a normal pace. Tim and his partner are walking out too, and you hold the door for them.

“Go ahead,” Tim tells his partner. “Thanks,” he says to you.

He stops beside you, and you let the door close. After a glance over his shoulder, Tim passes you a bag.

“What is this?” you inquire.

“A thank you.”

“For?”

“Being nice. Plus, you didn’t ogle me like your friends.”

You chuckle and smile as you argue, “You’ve got to be used to that.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

You peek in the bag and see the item you were looking at. “I can’t accept this.”

“The ladies inside told me I had to take something for keeping them safe.”

“And you got me something?” Tim smiles, and you shake your head. “Thank you.”

“If you’d really like to thank me or hear more about those cases you seem to like so much, maybe we could meet for dinner sometime.”

“I would love that.”

“Great. I have to go, but… give me a call.”

You watch him leave, then realize that he didn’t give you his number. As you walk away, you pull the receipt from the bag. But it isn’t a receipt. It’s a piece of paper with his name and number. Under that, he wrote, I never wanted to be a celebrity crush before today.

[skzdust]

Snapshots: "Oh, do not fucking do that." + Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader, Lee Know x reader

Other 6 SKZ coming soon!!

Word Count: ~300 each

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

Bang Chan:

“ENG 411: Medieval Women Writers” didn’t sound like the type of class that would spawn a bitter rivalry, but it seemed every class you and Bang Chan argued about something.

He seemed really sweet… to everyone except you. On the first day of the course you’d disagreed on the definition of “Middle Ages,” and it seemed from then on that he had some kind of vendetta against you. The thoughtfulness you caught glimpses of in his interactions with your classmates seemed to be reversed with you—he knew exactly which buttons to push to bother you. What insecurities to tap on to reach nerves.

Not that you had any less of a vendetta against him. You were just as harsh, your words during in-class debates clawed and pointed. You would go far out of your way to annoy him.

And your professor’s announcement last week that you’d be picking partners for a project today didn’t escape your notice as a potential avenue for annoyance.

You made sure to arrive to the classroom just before the class started, a smile twisting your lips as you took the empty seat next to Bang Chan. He shoots you a look, but the professor starts talking, and he looks away.

“Alright, I hope you’ve given some thought to your partner choices for the project.” The professor opens her computer and looks to the student to her left, which just so happens to be you. “Y/n? Who are you working with?”

“Bang Chan.” You say, a smug grin tugging at your mouth.

He knocks his knee against yours under the table. You wipe the smile from your face and look at him innocently, making a “who, me?” expression.

“Oh, do not fucking do that.” He whispers.

“Too late.” You whisper back. “If you’re really so worried about it, say something.”

He glares at you, but this is a challenge, and you know he won’t back down. He looks to the professor, his usual easy smile returning, and says sweetly, “Yes, I’ll be working with y/n.”

Your evil smile returns. It would be an interesting project.

Lee Know:

The Chief leans back. “I know you two have a rather… rocky relationship, but you’re both aces at your jobs. I need you working together on this case.”

“Oh.” Minho gives him a look. “Do not fucking do that.”

“I can assign both of you however I want. Don’t make me demote you.”

You smother a smile as Minho exhales in exasperation. “I can assure you y/n doesn’t want to work with me just as mush as I don’t want to work with them.” He looked to you.

“It’ll be fun, Minho!” You grin, peppy. “We’ll succeed.”

“I’m not worried about success. I’m worried about them killing me in my sleep.”

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to, there’s no reason to worry about that.” You keep smiling. “Unlike someone, I can remain professional.”

The Chief sighs. “I need your skills, y/n, Minho. I need you to actually work together. To that end, you’ll be staying in the same hotel rooms, flying together, eating meals together, and spending every other moment in each other’s company. Can you handle that?”

You aren’t about to back down now. “Yes, Chief.”

Minho sighs. “Yes, Chief.”

“Good.” The Chief makes a motion with his hands. “Out.”

Minho closes the office door behind you. “Y/n… I propose a truce.”

You cross your arms. “A truce?”

“A truce. I think we can work well together, like Chief was saying, but we need to give ourselves a chance.”

You nod. “I’ll give you a chance, Minho. We’ll see how it goes.”

He nods back. “We’ll see how it goes.”

[elljayvee]

Today I'm more than usually annoyed with a pop science article, so I'm going to talk about reading these sorts of articles, why you should always be skeptical of claims in them, and some of the ways you can tell the article's author didn't understand what they were reading and told you the wrong thing.

I clicked on an article in Eating Well about low bone density and dementia, because my mother has both. There's not a lot we can do for her now, but I am a curious person. I know Eating Well isn't great at science interpretation and communication, so I'm anticipating that I'm going to need to read the original study already, going in. (How do I know Eating Well isn't a great source usually? Well, I have read it before, and it has some really clear biases if you read a few articles that aren't science communication, and so you get to know a source over time like that. Regardless of how, I'm already suspicious they're not going to do a great job.)

The article is talking about research that shows low bone density may be predictive of dementia risk. It is written by a journalist and reviewed by a dietician. Now, I don't know what review the dietician did, but she did a bad job, and also, so did the journalist, because THE FIRST red flag that goes up is pretty quick: the math is very, very clearly wrong.

This says there are 3651 participants, and that over 11 years, 688 of them developed dementia. This is 18.8% and the article calls it 19%. That's fair! Not a red flag so far, just rounding. Then it says that of the 1211 people with lowest bone density at the start, 90 people (7.4%) developed dementia, and of the 1211 with highest bone density, only 57 (4.7%) did.

This IS a red flag. It's a GIANT red flag. This red flag can be seen from SPACE by anyone who knows how percentages work.

Here's how: You have 3651 people. 1211 of them are in the low bone density group, 1211 of them are in the high bone density group, leaving 1249 people. You have 688 total dementia cases, but your high and low groups account for only 147 of them, leaving 541 cases for that middle group. That's a LOT of cases. That middle tertile, just eyeballing it, has to have about 40% of its people with dementia -- that makes low bone density look like it predicts LOWER dementia risk relative to the middle group.

I can write out the equations for you two ways:

3651 - 1211 - 1211 = 1249 688 - 90 - 57 = 541 541/1249 = 0.433 0.433(100) = 43.3%

Because I am someone who does a fair amount of stats for a living, though, what I noticed was pretty much this equation:

0.074(1211) + x(1249) + 0.047(1211) = 0.19(3651) and I knew immediately that x had to be MUCH bigger than it should, which indeed the math bears out: x(1249) = 0.19(3651) - 0.074(1211) - 0.047(1211) x(1249) = 694 - 90 - 57 x = 547/1249 = 0.438 0.438(100) = 43.8%

That 694 is because the authors rounded 18.8 to 19 earlier, not because I can't math. So, due to rounding, you get slightly different answers -- but BOTH of them point to something SERIOUSLY WRONG with the reporting. What is actually going on in that middle tertile? Where do these numbers come from? Well, lucky us, they mention the name of an author, a journal, and a date. Always be wary of pop sci articles that don't give you a way to track down the original, but giving you that way to track things down doesn't mean they aren't still doing a crummy job with their reporting, as we see here.

The original paper is Association of Bone Mineral Density and Dementia: The Rotterdam Study, published March 2023 in Neurology. This is a pretty technical article with a fair amount of math and things in parens etc. etc. and tables and lots of measurements. The table captions are often not the greatest, which makes it a bit harder to read and interpret. For example, in Table 1, items are listed as number(number) and this can be any of:

count (percent) -- this one's usually labeled in the table itself

mean (standard deviation)

median (interquartile range) -- these last two are NOT labeled in the table, so we don't know which set of numbers is which.

Great. Thanks guys. Assuming what's called a "normal distribution" mean (SD) and median (IQR) numbers will be similar, but they're not the same and I'm irritated they're conflated but OK. Soldiering on!

The original study looked at several different measures of bone density, and found only ONE of them to show predictive ability for dementia: the density of the femoral neck. This means that for their article, Eating Well should have looked at the results for femoral neck bone density, which we find in Table 2:

You have the actual numbers for 5 years, 10 years, and study end, as well as the hazard risk (HR) for each bone density tertile, with the highest tertile set as the standard. Numbers in the HR column have 1 as a reference point -- lower than 1 is lower risk than the highest tertile, and higher than 1 is higher risk.

The first thing I noticed is that neither 57 nor 90 occur in the femoral neck section at ALL. Those numbers from the Eating Well article are just not there. I also notice that the other numbers don't align even one little bit -- the number of total cases of dementia is different, for example. I do notice that the column with the 10 year followup has numbers in it close to 57 and 90 (49, 67, 86, totaled to 202) and that the overall numbers for the total study are much higher -- 201, 236, 229. Interesting.

At this point, I just straight-up search the paper for "90", and I find it in Table 2....in the total bone density section, which the paper's authors have said is NOT the section that showed possible predictive results. I search for "57", and also find that in total bone density, and also....wow the EW author straight up failed to read. This is actually worse than I thought.

Read across, these are the 5 year followup numbers (first 2 columns - count and HR), 10 year (middle 2 columns), and total followup numbers (last 2 columns).

We see our friends 57 and 90 in the 10 year columns. 90 is, as described in the EW article, in the lowest bone density tertile, but 57 is NOT in the highest bone density tertile. It's in the middle tertile. The actual number for the highest tertile is 68. Additionally, the total cases for 10 years is nowhere near that 688 number -- it's 215. We only get total case numbers close to 688 when we look at the study end numbers: it's 686, in this particular group. If we look at the study end case numbers for highest, middle, and lowest tertiles, we see WHY this particular measure can't be used to predict anything: they are 227 (highest), 227 (middle), and 232 (lowest) -- not significantly different from each other.

We can also see here that this group of people -- people who had total bone density measurements -- is not 3651, but 3633, which is listed across the bottom row. The overall STUDY had 3651, but not all of them had total bone density recorded.

Now we know that the author of the EW article did all of the following:

read the wrong part of Table 2

mixed up middle and high tertile results

reported 10 year results mixed with total followup results (this resulted in the weird math that alerted me something was very very wrong in the first place).

and the person who was supposed to review the article didn't have even the basic math skills to catch the problem -- which she absolutely should have, as a registered dietician. For giggles, I looked up program requirements for a BS in Dietetics. Programs require things like statistics and precalc -- not math heavy, but the math that alerted me to this problem is VERY basic statistical knowledge, like the kind they teach in 6th grade level statistics, which I know because it was literally in my 6th grader's curriculum this past school year. So a registered dietician DEFINITELY had enough math to catch this problem, and should have, and Eating Well should be ashamed of itself.

SO. What can we learn from this?

Well, science communication is a skill set. Some people have worked very hard to develop that skill set and are excellent at it -- but lots of people do not have it, and even those who do can make mistakes. Many, many pop sci articles are not written by trained science communicators, or people with any education in how to read scientific articles, or people with good reading comprehension, even. It's very common for pop sci articles to have these sorts of errors in them. Therefore:

Always read pop sci articles with a skeptical eye. Ask yourself:

Do these numbers line up? Usually the math in pop sci articles is not very complex -- you can often do some basic arithmetic to make sure it even makes sense, as was the case here.

Does one part of the article seem to contradict another part of the article?

Do I feel confused about what exactly I'm being told? What's not clear about it?

Am I being told about HOW something works or WHY it works or both? Are those two things being conflated somehow?

Is there a link or way to find the original research? If not, my advice is to throw the whole article away. If yes, you can go check it out -- often just looking at the abstract or results section will be enough, and abstracts usually aren't paywalled even if the rest of the article is. You would be surprised how many times the abstract says "we found X" and the pop sci article says "the researchers found Y".

Could I explain this article to someone and have it make sense? If not, why not?

Is the article confusing correlation (these things happen together) with causation (one of these things causes the other)?

Pop sci articles, like other journalistic articles, are extremely subject to bias issues from the publication they're in. A lot of people tend to read pop sci articles as neutral, factual reporting, but they aren't! I mentioned EW's biases earlier -- the one I think is most relevant to how their article is written is a pervasive belief that if you just eat the right things in the right amounts you will be thin and healthy and stave off all kinds of problems. They close their article by mentioning that, although the study's authors are clear that this connection is unlikely to be causative, and that risk factors for low bone density and dementia have substantial overlap, readers should act like it might be causitive with diet and exercise choices that promote bone health. They were so excited to get to their point about fixing your diet that they didn't pay attention to the actual science they were reporting on. (Sidenote: actual scientific journal articles are supposed to be neutral, factual reporting. They also aren't actually that, but there are some measures in place around this to try to prevent the worst effects of bias.)

It's worth brushing up some basic math skills. You don't need to know a lot! Very basic information will help you better understand a lot of articles -- both ones that are accurate and well-written, and ones that are shoddy and should not have been published. I really like Larry Gonick's The Cartoon Guide to Statistics but if your grasp of percentages is shaky, it will be too advanced. A good option might be something like The I Hate Mathematics! Book, which is pretty old but really accessible, but there's probably some newer great ones out there that I just don't know about.

[milkypompon]

Pink Interface

pairing: Nathan Bateman x F!Reader

summary: Nathan made you a period tracker... but it's nothing you'll find on the public market.

content: Fluff, talks of sex, period pains

wc: 1.1k

a/n: Nate... baby, your love language is being smart, an ass, and being a smartass.

Ex Machina Masterlist || Main Masterlist

–

A blanket of snow coats the ground, steadily thickening as it dusts the sky. Foxes usually come out to frolic, but today, there weren’t pawprints pressed against the white fluff.  They’re probably curling up in a hollow den. 

It’s hardly to be jealous about, given that you were pressing against shoulder to shoulder with Nathan as you trek up the mountain together — his warmth, a welcome pleasure, seeps into your body.

But this morning, out of all the goddamn days, you saw a familiar red stain. 

You wanted to postpone the hike, but he looked forward to it all week, and you didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. If anything, your hand-washed panty hanging on the towel rack would’ve been a giveaway, but you steered him away from the bathroom before he could see it. 

You claimed you nuked the toilet after drinking the annoyingly healthy green smoothie he made before the hike. 

Nathan frowned, “That’s an oddly graphic scene I didn’t need to imagine.”

At least it worked. 

Now, here you were, suffering from your own doings because you didn’t want to see a pouting Nathan. 

You clutch your midriff and come to a halt. “Nate, could we take a break?”

He frowns at your pained expression. Usually, you were the one dragging him up the mountains — pointing to the fox tracks or the last place you two sat down to drink hot chocolate. But now you’re a few paces behind him. There was definitely something wrong.

Snow crunches underneath his boots, making his way to you to hold you. His hand slips underneath your puffer jacket and thermal long-sleeve, you writhe under his touch. He’s confused at first before he begins to connect the dots. 

“Jesus Christ… are you pregnant?”

Your mouth gapes at the stupidity of his question. 

The pause was long enough for him to ask again, “Are you… pregnant?”

You huff and shove his shoulder. “What the fuck? The opposite, you dumbass! I’m bleeding out my uterine lining!”

“I know what a period is!”

“You had me there going for a sec because you spend more time with your vaginaless androids.”

He gives you a sideways smirk. “Hey, give me some credit. I started doing that when we got married!”

Then, Nathan sighs, a mix of relief and embarrassment washes over him. “Besides, can you blame me? We fucked in the rest-stop cabin after our hike last time.”

A ping catches both of your attention.

Your eyes land on his smartwatch. “I thought it was your scheduled wellness day today. Still got people messaging?”

He presses on the square screen and mumbles, “Oh, there was a bug in the code. Now it makes sense why I’m only finding out now.” 

“Huh?” 

Nathan gives you his signature smile — pearly whites that made women swoon and closed business deals… or when he was withholding information.

You were positive that it was the latter in this case. 

He wraps an arm around you and walks back to the facility. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

The last time you let him build up anticipation, he revealed an android clone. He claimed it was for you to use when he was out on business trips as long as he had access to the live feed. You weren’t shocked, to say the least, considering this was Nathan Bateman.

Equal parts genius and horny. 

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if he made one of you, too, so he could watch the androids fuck each other. 

–

You shed your jacket and settle into the crook of the couch, curling in on yourself to suppress the pain.

Nathan kneels in front of you, combing his fingers through your hair. “Baby, tell me what you need. Tea? A hot pad? Snacks?”

“You’re stalling.”

“Am not.”

“We’re not toddlers, Bateman. Give it to me straight.”

“Don’t get weird with me, ‘kay?” He sits on the couch and tugs you onto his lap. 

You roll your eyes, shifting your weight on him comfortably. “If you made an android of me so you can watch it have sex with Masturbateman, then color me utterly not surprised.”

He frowns and thumbs your hipbone. “I spent hours perfecting it, and that’s the name you gave my android?”

“That’s what you got out of that conversation?”

Nathan cups your asscheek and squeezes it. “If you keep getting snappy with me, I won’t show my new project.”

You huff but give in, nudging your face into the curve of his shoulder. 

He leans forward to grab his tablet from the coffee table, the screen displaying… a period tracker?

“What’s up with the pink interface? That’s such a gender stereotype.” You prod just to piss him off, but it does the opposite.

He grins as if he’s been waiting for you to ask that question. “The color is sampled from your urine mixed with endometrium when you’re nearing the end of your menstrual cycle. It’s aligned with hex code #FAA0A0–”

You steal his words from earlier today, “That’s an oddly graphic scene I didn’t need to imagine.”

“But look at this. It detects your four phases by inputting your BMI and medical history.” Nathan’s lips curl up. “You have a really regular cycle, y’know?”

You snort. “You’re the only man who would say that as a compliment, you fucking nerd.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just telling you the facts.” He pats your thigh. “Anyway, do you have a preferred date when you want your period?”

“Uh, what?”

“I can program the app to delay your period indefinitely. Want a three month break? It’ll happen. Want it to never return? Easy. So, what’ll it be, baby?”

“You’re doing overtime on the god roleplaying…”

He laughs, amused at your reaction. “Hey, I’m just answering your question. I can tell that it’s a big headache for you, so I figured I’d extend you an olive branch.”

“Wait, how did you link this up to my body in real time?”

“What do you think I’ve been sprinkling into the green smoothies?”

You pinch his cheek. “I’m not one of your androids, Nathan.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs. “But, you’re right. My androids wouldn’t complain.”

You hide your teasing grin behind a hand. “It could be easily solved if you get me pregnant, but we both know how you feel about that.”

There’s a quietness as he places the tablet down. Neither of you discussed this unless it was in passing when you’d comment on how cute baby mittens are and wondered what their blended food tasted like. 

He was well aware that raising a child wasn’t like building his projects. Raising a human was more difficult than creating artificial intelligence that could pass as a human. 

Nathan blurts, “I want you to have my babies.”

–

Nathan's hips thrust into yours, he leans into your ear and whispers, "The tracker tells me when you're ovulating too."

You say in between moans, "Mmm, I'm gonna shove you off, if you don't shut the fuck up."

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XVII

Everlasting Light

Elain Archeron threaded a pearl earring into her ear and then stepped back, looking at her reflection in the mirror. 

For the wedding, she decided to go dramatic and memorable. Her dress was pale pink and cream, form-fitting, with an ostentatious flower at the shoulder. The gown (it really was more of a gown, rather than just a dress) was satin and chiffon, with delicate silk inserts and appliqué flowers. 

She kept her hair simple, in a neat chignon, and wrapped a narrow satin ribbon around her head in lieu of a hat.

It was a dress worthy of a wedding. A dress worthy of a bride. 

Only it wasn’t her wedding. And she wasn’t the bride. 

And the dress was much too expensive and glamorous for a wedding guest. There was nothing subtle about it. But for once, Elain Archeron chose not to be demure, modest and shyly elegant. No. Today, she was going to arrive in style and overshadow the bride. Today, she was going to be outlandish. 

She supposed that that’s the danger one ran into when they invited their ex to their wedding. But that was not her problem, frankly. 

Piglet arrived in her bedroom and offered his male support by barking his approval. He was looking rather spiffy himself, dressed in a proper morning suit, with a waistcoat and a pale pearl tie, to match her dress. 

He was still getting used to his new leg prosthetic, and while he didn’t like it when he was first fitted with it, now, three weeks later, he refused to go outside without it.

Elain's Dress

-

“It’s all paid for,” the veterinarian told her when Elain took Piglet for his first fitting,

“Pardon?” She was perplexed. How would anyone know about her bringing Piglet here? She hadn’t even told her sisters about it. In case the procedure didn’t work, she preferred to keep it secret before she was sure that Piglet would accept it. He was acting awfully bitey at the fitting and gave her deathly side eyes, while refusing to look at her once it was done. 

The receptionist, who was handling the financials, looked at the monitor and read out loud, 

‘Looks like…let’s see here. A Mr. Azriel Night? Paid in full. It says here…oh, well, he is your partner, Miss Archeron,’ she laughed, ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘I’d prefer to pay for it myself,’ Elain argued tersely. At the mention of his name, she immediately felt the squeeze in her throat and a suffocating pressure in her chest, as she fought her tears. She was not going to burst in tears in front of this poor, well-meaning woman. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in public. 

The receptionist blushed and scrambled, muttering, ‘Miss Archeron, it would be difficult. We’d have to refund the purchase, and since Mr. Night hasn’t requested it…I’m sure I can contact him,’

Pursing her lips, Elain managed to remain visibly calm. She didn’t want to argue. Besides, Piglet was already growling at her and was about to start some shit right in the office, so she decided to handle this later, on the phone. 

She absolutely wasn’t going to take any charity or handouts from that man. Not at all. He didn’t deserve to know that he contributed to Piglet’s well-being in any manner. He didn’t. She wouldn’t allow him to. 

The problem was that it went even further than Azriel paying for the robotic prosthesis. That same week she also received a letter from Piglet’s regular vet, notifying her that Piglet’s longevity shots have been paid for in full. In perpetuity. As in, forever. That horrid, treacherous man dared to…Elain couldn’t believe it. Enraged, she rang Cassian. 

Before the man could say ‘hello’, she screamed into the phone,

‘Tell your brother to leave us alone! He is not to make attempts at helping my dog with anything. Piglet isn’t his responsibility. We don’t need him!’

‘What?’ Cassian asked dumbly. 

‘You heard me!’ She snapped at him. ‘I don’t need anything from him. Just my fee. I’m quite sure that he still owes me for setting him up.’

‘Yeah, he does,’ Cassian agreed, his tone sombre and defeated. ‘That he does.’

‘Exactly. Beyond my fee, I’m not interested in hearing anything from or about him. I hope you understand.’

‘I understand.’

‘Thanks. Bye!’

But before she could hang up, Cassian called after her and quickly asked, “and you? How are you?’’

She paused and he heard her swallow. She didn’t answer for a long time. He wasn’t even sure if she was still on the line when at last, he heard her say, ‘I’m brilliant.’

“You don’t need to say that to me,” he snapped at her. 

She scoffed, ‘I don’t owe you anything, Cass. So there is that. Tell him that I don’t need anything from him. That’s all I’m asking of you.’ 

He sighed heavily and told her, 

“Okay”.

-

It was a surprisingly nice day for early March. It was sunny and warm and wisteria began blooming all around Bloomsbury and Russell Square. 

Her father sent a car for her, so she wouldn’t have to take a taxi. At first, Elain didn’t want to bother, but after she decided on her dress, she changed her mind. Now, there was a Bentley waiting for her on the street. 

She hated that she almost greeted her father’s driver as ‘Dev’, but she stopped herself at the last moment. Piglet stopped to inspect the car, not recognising it and he also paused when he saw the new driver. He was going to give him paw, like he did with Dev, but this wasn’t Dev and Piglet waited for Elain to do something. 

“Lady Elain,” the driver greeted her as he opened the door and then looked at the pug and said, “and this is Piglet, I assume.”

“It is. Thank you,” she turned to the dog and helped him inside the vehicle. “We have a stop to make and pick up another individual.”

“Of course,” the driver said simply and then assisted her inside the car, and even picked up and loaded the train of her dress inside, arranging it on the floor, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She told him the address and they took off. 

Elain felt detached from herself, as if she was looking at her body from the outside. She was seemingly standing behind a glass and observing her life, but it wasn’t hers. Not really. Her life should’ve been completely different right now. She should’ve been with Azriel. Loved by him. Loving him. She should’ve been going to her own wedding. She should’ve been happy.

But she wasn’t. 

Elain wasn’t happy.

As they detoured through Marylebone towards Paddington, Elain was of mind to call the whole thing off. She didn’t need to go to the wedding. She could make an excuse. It was just her, and her family would be represented just fine by Nesta and Feyre. There was no need for her to torture herself or her dog with all of this. 

But, by the time she was ready to say something to the driver, they were pulling around Radnor Mews–unbearably charming and picturesque–and she spotted a tall, statuesque man standing on the corner, looking at his phone.

The Bentley pulled to the curb and the driver got out to open the door. 

“Hey gorgeous!” the man slid inside the cabin, taking up about as much space as Azriel normally would.

Goddamn it. Enough already. Enough with Azriel!

Elain squeezed her eyes tightly, before sighing and looking at her companion.

“Fen,” she breathed.

His dark, luminous eyes skimmed over her elaborate dress, the large flower on her shoulder, and then he reached and gently drew his finger from her cheek down to her collarbone.

“My god you are beautiful,” he gawked, shaking his head. “Are you okay to do this?”

She bit her lip and then nodded. If he noticed her reluctance, he didn’t show it, but only took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

Fenris Beem-Moon was Elain’s first…well, everything. Her first in many ways. Her first boyfriend. Her first major crush. He took her on her first date when they were 16 years old. The first time she got drunk was with Fen and he held her hair back while she puked miserably in a pub loo. He attempted to teach her to drive, to the detriment of his own life–and failed. He was her first man–the one who took her virginity, when they went to Brighton for a long weekend. Fen was the first (and only) man, so far, to consistently provide Elain with toe-curling orgasms.

They parted ways when both went to the university. Elain–to Bristol, while Fen went to Dartmouth in the US. Nowadays, she was a matchmaker to the wealthy and the titled, and he was managing a hedge fund.

“Hey Pugnatious the Great,” Fen rubbed Piglet’s back and the pug leaned against him in a friendly way. Elain chuckled at the moniker. Fenris was one of a select few whom Piglet actually liked, and not just tolerated. He and her pug didn’t have the soul-crushing adoration like Piglet had with Azriel, but,

Here she was. AGAIN. Thinking about Azriel.

She shook her head and scoffed at her own thoughts. She was pathetic. No other word for it. Pathetic. She hated herself for constantly thinking about that asshole. For being so weak and stupid that all her thoughts revolved around an unworthy man. 

Fen looked at her, sensing her distress and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. His lips pressed to her temple and he rubbed his thumb over her bare shoulder.

“How do you want to play this?” he asked at last, once Elain stilled beneath his arm and lay her head on his shoulder. “Are we making him jealous? Should I make him eat a bag of dicks?”

She snorted at that.

“Should I fuck him up for making you sad?” he continued.

“He is big,”

Bubbling his lips, Fen chuckled, “Not as big as me, elske.”

Then he laughed quietly, “you got a type, that’s for sure! You like a big man,” 

She sighed, but did not argue. She liked them big and strong.

Then, with a scowl, he added, “though not sure where your Eris fits in. At least the Douchebag is handsome. Not as handsome as me,”

“No,” she drawled, “of course not,”

“But he is handsome enough. Eris…fuck, babe, he is a ginger!”

Laughing at his antics, Elain pushed at his chest, saying, “you are an anti-gingerite!”

“One word, babe–ginger pubes!” he announced dramatically and Elain shuddered. 

“Eww, Fen, don’t be gross,”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one nosing into ginger pubes,” he reminded her. 

“It’s two words, by the way.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he cocked his brow. “Ginger pubes are ginger pubes. Is he hung at least?

She rolled her eyes and offered a shrug. 

“So, he could be bigger,” Fenris confirmed. 

Elain knew what he was doing–he was cheering her up, saying all kinds of nonsense, so she wouldn’t have to think of what she was about to face. And for that, she was grateful.

But as they drove towards the Royal Boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea, she knew that no amount of pep talks or cheering up could change the reality of what she was about to experience. 

Many had wondered as to why Elain and Fenris did not end up together? They seemed to have had everything in common–they were childhood friends, they were both wildly attractive, both came from wealthy, illustrious families, Fenris being the son of the head of the Beem banking dynasty and a Danish Countess. What’s more, they had a fine, loving, amicable relationship. However, Fenris had a secret, to which few were privy, but Elain knew. His sexual tastes ran exotic–he was a Dom and a co-owner of a BDSM club in Soho. He was their superstar performer, along with his submissive and real-life lover Kat. Fen and Kat were soulmates, and Elain was always envious of their relationship–the love, the trust, the adoration. She was less fanatical about the caning and the fisting on stage (which she’d watched when she visited the club), but she did not judge her best mate. What’s more, contrary to popular belief, Elain was a lot less uptight and uncomfortable with sex than most people assumed. Fenris had guaranteed that. Her only problem was that she kept ending up with sexually boring men. After Fen, only Azriel came close to being as spectacular, but,

Gah!

She was thinking about him again. 

But it was curious, now that she thought about it, that Azriel basically fisted her that one time–their only real intimate time. What did it say about her? What did it say about her because she loved it?

“We can’t make him jealous,” she told Fenris quietly, hiding her face in his chest. He stroked the back of her neck, holding her close. “He is literally marrying someone else.”

“Maybe he is delirious,” Fen offered. “Like a brain inflammation,”

“Oh, is that what it is?” she huffed a sceptical sigh. 

“I mean it’s a fairly reasonable explanation as to why he’d be marrying someone else when he had you and, as you told me, he said that he loved you.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and murmured,

“Or, maybe, he never loved me at all.”

-

Azriel Night adjusted his cufflinks and then glanced at his watch.

10:53 am.

The guests were milling about in the airy Cadogan Suite of the Old Chelsea Town Hall, enjoying cocktails and admiring the Victorian architecture of the pale grey and blue walls and the impressive marble and granite fireplace. It wasn’t exactly a huge gathering, only about twenty guests, and most of them were family anyway. And that suited him just fine. 

Old Chelsea Town Hall, London

He already felt like shit, hot and tense, his dark navy suit seemingly too tight and stifling around the shoulders. He readjusted the sleeves about thirty times and still he couldn’t get comfortable. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t need any more people witnessing the shitshow that was about to take place. 

Plopping heavily on a chair he buried his head in his hands. He was alone in the antechamber of the reception room, his eyes darting towards the door every five seconds.

“You alright?” he heard Cassian’s voice, but didn’t answer.

Was he alright? Sure didn’t feel like it.

“She’ll come,” Cassian assured him. “She will. She texted Nes earlier,”

“Even if she does show up,” Azriel interrupted him, “it won’t change anything.”

Cassian sighed and didn’t argue. Probably not. Azriel had fucked up and Cassian didn’t think that Elain was going to suddenly forgive him just like that. Or should. Or would. 

Besides, he was tasked with telling Azriel one other nugget of shit,

“Sooo…I just wanted you to know,” he began saying slowly, “that she would be coming with,”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Azriel snarled angrily and jumped to his feet. “Who is that? Who is with her?”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I was saying,” Cassian muttered, but before he could continue, he was stopped by the look on Azirel’s face.

The look of adoration and utter amazement. Anger too, but mostly Az looked both flabbergasted and smitten. Cassian followed his brother’s gaze and immediately whistled under his breath. 

Elain Archeron glided into the room, dressed in a spectacular satin gown, which accentuated her round curves and stunned with its haute couture details. Cassian wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but he could tell when a woman looked good. And Elain looked spectacular! This dress–pale blush pink–was decorated with bold, but delicate flowers at the bottom and on her shoulder, and he guessed that every embellishment was handmade. If ever there was a princess, Elain was most certainly one today. 

And like a true princess, she arrived exactly on time. 

And just like that, all eyes were on her. 

But she did not react. Nothing outwardly but a blase, relaxed appearance. 

What’s more, Elain was draped over one beast of a man–absolutely huge, at least 6”6–so handsome, he could only be called ‘breathtaking’. Cassian was staunchly straight and liked pussy more than he liked just about anything else, but fuck it–he’d give this bloke a go if the opportunity presented itself. The man had a perfect, unblemished, ridiculously symmetrical face, with a jaw that could cut glass, dark, almost black eyes and a leonine head of gorgeous golden hair. His form fit his face–muscular, toned, firm, but compact in a way professional athletes were. 

And speaking of professional athletes–the one next to him, his own brother, was just about vibrating with dark, pent up energy. 

“We are not brawling,” Cassian cautioned him sternly.

“Who the fuck is he?” Azriel hissed. 

“Whoever he is,” Cassian said, “he can take you,”

“Pfff,” Azriel snorted, but it wasn’t a confident snort. He realised that the blond god would make a worthy opponent if push came to shove. 

“You need to calm down,” Cassian warned. 

“If that cocksucker is fucking my wom-,”

“She is not your woman,” Cassian reminded him. 

“Fuck you, Cass.”

“Whatever.”

Meanwhile, Piglet weaved between the man’s legs and sat down at his side, while the man bent and rubbed the pug’s neck, and then fished something out of his pocket and gave it to Piglet to chew. 

“The fuck he is giving him treats!” Azriel seethed, while Cassian shook his head and said, 

“Why are you acting like some overprotective boyfriend? You left her,”

“And why is he touching her like that?” Azriel completely ignored Cassian’s words, as he watched the disgustingly good looking bloke, on whose arm Elain was literally hanging, turn and cup Elain’s face in his massive hand, his fingers on her cheek and then kiss the top of her head, right on the satin band that held her hair in place.

KISS HER HEAD!!!

“Little Piggy, you are so handsome!!” Azriel heard Feyre’s excited screeching and then, to his surprise, she greeted the blond guy, “Fen, long time no see! How are you?!”

She reached up and he kissed her cheek, but before he answered, she prattled forth, “I didn’t know you were coming today. Are you two back together?”

Back together???

“It would be so good if you got back together,” she continued, smiling breathlessly.

Elain pursed her lips and snapped, “Fey!”

“What, what?!” Feyre began to backtrack. “I am just saying.”

The man, Fen, had an amused smirk playing on his lips, his fingers still stroking Elain’s bare shoulders. 

“It’s good to see you, Feyre,” he said simply. 

“But you are,” Feyre started again, but then Elain’s attention, along with her head, turned to Azriel.

-

Unable to wait any longer, Azriel got up and walked across the room, noticing how Elain had tensed the moment he stepped out of the antechamber and made his way towards her. 

She looked indescribably beautiful today. A little sad. A little nervous, though she covered it up pretty well. But overwhelmingly, she was simply stunning. That dress…Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of it, because she looked both bridal and regal, a queen, but also a timid virgin. Where did you even get a dress like that? And how do you come to a decision which says ‘yeah, I am going to throw this on today. To a wedding. Which isn’t my own.’ He figured that it was a very Elain thing to do–to march to the beat of her own drum, wearing what she liked–but still. This was ballsy. 

The blond bloke still had his hand on her though. It was a proprietary hold–his long fingers holding her by the back of the neck. Like a lover. Like she belonged to him.

Azriel barely managed to hold back an animalistic snarl. Barely managed to hold back and not lunge at the guy and break his fingers, thus removing them from Elain’s bare flesh. 

“You came,” he said instead, balling his hands behind his back. He was almost on top of them, standing so close that he could feel the warmth of Elains body and smell her sweet, delicious jasmine perfume. He didn’t bother with any kind of preamble. He didn’t have it in him to engage in small talk or act decently. He wanted to rip the man’s arms right off and then press her to her knees on the floor and fuck her brutally on the guy’s bleeding corpse.

Elain turned to face him–her expression placid, and almost disinterested. As if he was interrupting something and she needed to give him her time and attention.

She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned fully to him. The blond man’s hand did not leave her neck. Azriel gritted his teeth. 

“Of course,” she nodded easily, a bland smirk on her lips. “I always attend these weddings–if the clients that I set up invite me, I gladly accept. Tell me, Azriel, where is Gwyn?”

He ignored her question and asked instead, “And who is your date?”

The man’s hand remained on her neck. 

“Fenris Beem-Moon,” the bloke said and extended his other hand to Azriel. 

Elain’s expression was inscrutable. She watched Azriel shake Fenris’s hand with a pained expression though he managed to contain himself. But Elain knew him well–could read all his micro expressions like an open book. She was well aware of the fact that Azriel was fuming inside, but pretended to pretend like he didn’t care. It didn’t help matters that Fenris intended on making Azriel jealous, by stroking her throat with his knuckles, before wrapping his fingers over the back of her neck. 

“And you are her date?” Azriel asked, his voice hollow.

Fen didn’t confirm or deny, but only said ‘El needed a plus one and here I am’. 

“And here you are,” Azriel echoed.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but that was cut short by a loud screeching roar that came out of Piglet once he beheld Azriel in his sight. The big brown bug eyes blinked and Piglet sized Azriel up, and determined that the proximity to Elain was too much for him to allow. With an enraged bark, he bounced on the floor, flying out of Feyre’s arms. 

It was all happening in slow motion. Everyone turned and attempted to catch him, but he deployed his full parkour moves and galloped towards Azriel with angry, hateful barks. 

Azriel didn’t know how to react, but Piglet solved the dilemma for him, when he lunged at him and sunk his sharp little teeth into Azriel’s hand.

“Awww, fuck!” Azriel cried, not knowing how to avoid the attack. Because Piglet was definitely attacking. Once he drew blood from Azriel’s palm, he latched onto his leg, biting him painfully, making him bleed yet again and Azriel noticed  blood stains on his trouser leg. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, “stop it! Awww! Fuck! Stop biting me!”

Piglet didn’t let up for a second. He jumped and bit and scratched, pushing Azriel back and away from Elain. He raged and slashed, with claws and teeth, and yes, he could’ve been picked up and thrown aside, but Azriel couldn’t do that.

And then Piglet went for the jugular. Or rather, for Azriel’s groin, latching on to his thigh and attempting to reach the most sensitive area. The only thing that helped Azriel in that moment was the fact that he was tall, and Piglet miscalculated the jump, and instead of biting his dick, he bit his thigh. It was like wrestling that cannibalistic rabbit from ‘Monty Python’--Azriel tried to pull the pug off his leg, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he anticipated. Obviously he could've been rough with the pug and hurt him, but Azriel wasn’t going to go there. Piglet wiggled, snarled and growled angrily, while he searched for more flesh to bite, looking for reactions that caused the most pain and discomfort to Azriel, and when seeing it, biting harder. 

It was Elain, at last, who jumped on the dog and tried to wrestle him away. He wouldn’t budge though, no matter how she tried to pry him off or ordered him to stop. 

“Piglet, Piglet,” she pleaded, afraid to stick her finger in his mouth to loosen his hold. “Stop. Stop.”

Cassian stepped in, trying to hold the dog off, only to receive a scratch from the angry little paw. Feyre tried as well, waving cheese and bread in her hands–who even knows how she got those–but Piglet didn’t care. Fenris pulled on the pug, grabbing him around the body, but they just heard the cloth rip and Azriel winced in pain.

Finally, Elain snapped, “Piglet! Stop right now. You are hurting daddy. Stop. You love daddy,” she reminded him, but he roared at her in response. “I don’t care. You don’t bite. Even if your feelings are hurt and he left you,” she added ruthlessly. “You are better than that.”

She gently tugged him and he finally released Azriel’s leg and trouser. Piglet was panting, glaring at Azriel with hate and resentment. 

“Pink,” Azriel began saying, but Piglet snarled at him, baring his teeth and at that point, Fenris grabbed him from Elain’s arms and held him tightly to his chest. At that, something broke inside of Azriel, who watched his best mate in the arms of another man. Now, Fenris had both the dog and Azriel’s woman as his own.

Elain, bless her weak and stupid heart, muttered, “My god, Azriel. You are bleeding! Your suit…”

Azriel was bleeding. From his hand and his thigh and his ankle. His trousers were pretty much ruined. 

Rhysand, who was observing the drama and the raging pug attack, sauntered towards their little group, hands in his pockets, and gave Azriel a once over, shaking his head like a disappointed father. 

“I will make a call to get you new trousers,” he offered. “Who made your suit?”

“Dege and Skinner,” Azriel answered. 

That announcement received a smirk of approval from his billionaire lord cousin and if there was anyone who could get a new pair of trousers delivered in a matter of hours, it would be Rhysand. 

“You need to have this cleaned,” Elain piped, looking at the pooling blood that dripped from his hand. 

“Can you help me?” Azriel asked firmly, taking her by the hand before she could say anything. He tugged her behind him, while Fenris frowned and mouthed ‘I’ll be right here’. Piglet was going nuts again, unhappy that Elain was with Azriel–barking and screaming and snapping and huffing. Fenris cradled him in his arms, rocking him, murmuring to him, as he shielded him from seeing how Azriel pulled Elain with him. Feyre was attempting to calm Piglet down with cheese and bread. Cassian, meanwhile, went to fetch an attendant to clean up the mess on the floor. Nesta was sitting at the table, drinking vodka on the rocks with extra olives, and shaking her head. 

The bridal party was still not here. Probably for the best. 

-

Azriel half dragged Elain into the antechamber reserved for the bridal guests, but seeing as it was empty right now, he closed the door and walked to the adjoining powder room. Elain stood in the middle of the room, looking a little lost and more than apprehensive.

“I can ask Cassian to,” she began saying, but Azriel shook his head stubbornly and ordered, “come here, Elain. Now.”

She picked up her skirt and wet her lower lip nervously, before walking to the powder room.

He had his suit jacket off, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt rolled up to the elbows–his veined tattooed arms and the network of scars were all on full display and Elain swallowed loudly, still consumed by the need to be touched by those hands and be held within those arms. The white material of the shirt stretched nicely around his massive shoulders and the bulging biceps, and she needed to force herself to look somewhere else, because this was torturous–the close proximity, the scent of him, the sudden realisation that he was next to once again. She had tried to forget how it felt to be near him, tried for almost two months now, but just like that, it all flew out the window. All of her good intentions, because once again, she was next to him and he made her head swim.

Trying to find something to do with her hands, she grabbed a towel and ran it under some cool water. Piglet’s gotten carried away–there was a deep cut from the claws on Azriel’s left arm, and a whole slew of bites on his right.

“I should sue you,” he told her, without humour. “That little fucker needs to be muzzled.”

Elain bristled at his words, but didn’t say anything and only wiped the blood off his left arm. He winced and muttered, “you can’t bring a wild animal to social outings.”

“He is not a wild animal!” she snapped at him. 

He showed her both of his arms and said, “he absolutely is.”

“He was upset with you!” she defended the dog. “Also, he is a pug. I think you’ll survive.”

He looked her up and down, scrubbing his hands and blotting them with paper towels.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” he scowled. “If he wasn’t a pug, I’d beat his arse.”

Azriel dipped his arms under the faucet once more and then wrapped them with the remaining towels.

“Do I need a rabies shot?” he asked, pressing the towels to his forearms to stem the flow of blood. “This place looks like a murder scene now,” he shook his head.

“No, you don’t need a rabies shot,” she rolled her eyes, and he snorted at her, muttering ‘always with the attitude,”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I am going to go,” she turned on her heels, annoyed at his attitude, but before she could get away, he clamped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make her stop. Then he spun her around, so she was facing him. 

His expression was closed off and very stony, as he assessed her gown and her general appearance. 

Elain couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny and squirmed on her toes. 

“What do you want?” she asked nervously. “Your arms will heal.”

Azriel didn’t bother answering, and instead, his hands landed on her shoulders and he drew his thumbs over her protruding collar bones. He looked unamused and said,

“You are too thin. Are you not eating?”

Elain glanced up at him in confusion. 

His tone was…concerned. As if he cared about her. Which made little sense. 

His thumbs kept brushing over her chest, her neck, and then he leaned in and smelled her hair, pressing his cheek to her satin ribbon for a moment. 

“I am fine,” she said abruptly. “I am eating.”

“You are lying,”

“I am not. Besides, it’s none of your business,” she reminded him. “You are a client. I don’t report my eating habits to my clients. Soon to be an ex-client too.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I guess I’ve gone through some hard times lately.”

“Did you now?” his hand tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her even closer.

“I have.”

“Didn’t stop you from finding yourself another man in a month or so,” he commented coldly.

She tried to throw his hand off, but it was no use. He gripped her tightly and then pressed on her shoulder, digging his strong fingers into her flesh.

“Did you fuck him?” he snapped, his expression tight, his amber eyes glowing with a violent, unhinged need.

Elain started and dropped her hand from his arm.

“What?” she whispered.

“Did you fuck him?” he repeated dryly. “Are you fucking him?”

She bristled at his tone and stepped back, but he caught her wrist in his fingers and pulled her closer. His scarred hand cupped her cheek and he brushed his thumb over her throat, staring at her unblinking.

“Why are you asking me this?” she demanded, feeling her skin warm up under his scrutiny. “It’s none of your business!” 

He raised his brow and glowered at her, tension coming off him in waves. His thumb pressed deeper into her neck, pushing on the vein. She wondered if she’d have a bruise after this. 

“None of my business?” he challenged menacingly, that dark, deep voice of his sounding threatening. 

Elain attempted to step back away from him yet again. She was reminded of the wild, untamed beast that lived under his skin. The beast hid well enough, but she knew it was always there, raging to get out and smash through everything in its path. This was a boy who grew up on the rougher streets of Tower Hamlets and then in Lewisham and while he managed to exercise extreme self-control most of the time, right now wasn’t one of those times.

He jerked her back towards him and hissed, 

“Don’t act like you are scared of me!”

She swallowed and whispered, “Maybe I am scared of you right now.”

His expression darkened even further, but also seemed pensive–he was waging an internal battle in his own head.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he pressed, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck, his eyes wild and hungry. “You know I’ll do anything for you,”

She swallowed hard, feeling unbearably hot in her dress, shaky and angry.

“You are getting married!” she snarled at him. “I am here. For your wedding!”

That seemed to deflate him a bit and he sighed, muttering, “So I am”.

“So what do you want from me?!” she exclaimed, trying and failing to extricate herself from his hold. He didn’t let go.

Instead, he told her firmly, “answer the question!”

“I don’t see how that’s you busi-,”

He didn’t let her finish and snarled, “Another man’s dick in my woman’s cunt is my business. Do you understand that? So answer the fucking question, Elain. Did he fuck you? Did you give him what is mine?”

She stared at him in shock, appalled by his questions and the level of vitriol that he was spewing at her. How dare he?!!? He was the one who left her! He was the one who took off with another woman and now he had the audacity to act like a jealous boyfriend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

“Yes,” she snapped. “No.”

“What the fuck kind of answer is ‘yes and no’?”

He squeezed her cheek and made her look at him. “Tell me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it, but right now, she didn’t even care. She didn’t care that she was weeping, because she was…she was so tired. Just so tired of the endless heartache. Of not being loved. Of being left again and again and again. 

She hung her head low and whispered, “yes, I slept with him”.

Azriel sucked in a breath, his normally tanned face draining of colour and becoming noticeably paler. 

“Why?” he asked dumbly, staring at her. 

“Why did you leave me?” she asked instead, wiping her face, looking up at him.

He dropped her hand, but when she thought that he’d push her away, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed her face between his hands and stared at her. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked after a long pause.

She was sniffling and whimpering, locked into his gaze, and unable to shake off his grip on her head. 

“Because I am tired.”

“Of what?” he asked gently.

“Of everything. Of you. I am tired of you. And I am tired of not being loved. I am tired of always being everyone’s second choice.”

“You aren’t though,” he argued. “Not mine.”

“You are marrying another woman!” she cried out loudly, seething and angry. “You told me all this…shit! This nonsense! About how much you liked me,” at that, he cocked his head to the side, listening to her. She continued sniping at him angrily, “And you lied to me. The entire time, I was falling in love with you and you…you,” she was panting, breathless and enraged. “You told me you wanted me. You said that I was your one and only. And then you…you…just walked away and left me!”

Azriel’s expression was empty and his gaze stony when he stepped back away from her and crossed his arms on his chest.

“You are stubborn, ungrateful, obstinate, and arrogant,” he told her plainly, his eyes scorching her, as he stared her down. Her mouth opened to a shocked O. She couldn’t even respond to him, to his horrible words, the insults.

“You are,” he continued. “For months I’ve begged for scraps of your attention. I’ve done everything in my power to be gentle with you, be kind, and love you. I cleaned your house, cooked for you, washed your dishes, cared for your dog–all the while you held me at arm’s length. I courted you like a fucking knight or some shit. I respected your wishes and I treated you with kid gloves. I planned your birthday, I showered you with gifts and attention, I decorated your house when you asked me.

“Whenever you needed me, I was there. Any time, any day. So I ask you–what was not enough, Elain??” he pressed. “I need to know. Why was I not enough for you?”

She was sobbing, her thin shoulders shaking, while he waited for her to respond and listened to the pug going crazy behind closed doors, and shouting coming from the guests. Resolutely, he walked to the double doors and locked them. They were not going to be disturbed.

“I..I…never,” she tried to speak, but couldn’t. 

He was watching her with an alarmingly detached coldness. 

“You never?” he repeated. “That’s right, Elain. You never. You never came to me and told me that you loved me. Not until it was too late. You rejected my affection,”

“That’s not true!” she screamed. “I never did that.”

“I asked you to marry me the first time we met,” he reminded her.

She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, “I didn’t take that seriously! You were joking,”

“Was I?” he asked grimly.

“We’d just met!” she exclaimed defensively. “You came to me to find a wife!”

“And yet, I wanted you.”

“I didn’t know!” she babbled. “How was I supposed to have known? I didn’t,”

“You did. I asked you every time I saw you,” he insisted. “You just didn’t want to hear it. You took my words in jest, but don’t pretend that it wasn’t there.”

“That's not fair!” she even stomped her foot petulantly. “You aren’t being fair!”

“Life isn’t fucking fair, Elain. I shoved my hand in your cunt and you came all over my first on your birthday,”

She blushed furiously at that, at his vulgarity.

“Yet, the next fucking day, on Christmas Eve, you threw a fit when you saw a silly little thing on my phone. Oh, I had you in my contacts under ‘Mrs. Night’. The horror. The insult!” he mocked, clutching at his chest. “You started a whole fight with me over that one thing. Which, by the way, came about as a result of your snooping,”

She wiped her tears, but didn’t say anything back. It was true. She had overreacted back then. 

“I’d offered you everything,” he recalled. “My name. My devotion. My love. All you needed to do was to accept that you were mine. That you belonged to me. That you were made for me,”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she argued, raising her chin at him defiantly. She was angry with him, and just as angry with herself. 

In one frightening, devastating move–so quick that her eyes didn’t even register what she was seeing–he was on her. He grabbed her by the throat and she gasped in terror, waiting for him to squeeze, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, his jowls working overtime. She trembled next to him, swallowing hard against his huge palm.

He said nothing, just held her by the neck, his eyes so dark, they seemed black. Gone was the warm golden brown of them. Gone was his normally jovial, unbothered attitude. He was always intense, but right now, he was menacing. 

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it, Elain?” he sneered at last. His face was close to hers, and she couldn’t help but smell the familiar scent of his skin, of his Tom Ford cologne, and notice the smattering of dark freckles on his tanned cheeks. He really should use sunblock when he played. Even in Britain. Even under its weak, blurry sun.

“What is?” she finally managed to whisper. Her throat felt restricted against his palm and she swallowed again. Involuntarily, her hands squeezed his wrist and his eyes tracked the movement. 

“Stop”. He barked at her.

“Sto-op what?”

“Stop acting like you are afraid of me!” he hissed.

“I am. I am afraid of you,” she confessed. “You are not like this…”

“And how am I?” he wondered, while making no move to release her. 

“You…you,” she mumbled, blinking at him. “You are nice. You…you are good to me.”

“I was,” he confirmed. “Why should I be good to you now?”

“Why are you putting this on me?” she shouted. “What did I do??”

He sighed and reflected, his tone thoughtful, almost bored.

“What you did…It’s what you didn't do,”

“Which is?!” 

“If only you understood that you belong to me, beautiful, everything would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have needed to take all these…drastic measures,”

“Drastic measures?” she gasped. Marrying someone else was a little more than a ‘drastic measure’. 

“If you only acknowledged one simple fact–that you were mine, that you belong to me and with me. If you would have simply submitted to me and accepted the inevitable then things would’ve been different.”

Elain bristled and lifted her chin again, ignoring his hold on her.

“You are sounding psychotic,” she told him simply.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But I am telling you how it is.”

She pursed her lips and then managed to push at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He didn’t budge, though now his hold on her throat loosened even more. 

“And yet, all of this love and devotion didn’t stop you from going after another woman,” she rebuked him bitterly. All this ‘you belong to me’ bullshit didn’t stop you from bouncing as soon as you saw an opportunity.”

He let go of her then and walked away, circling the room, his brown knitted, his look tense.

Elain rubbed her throat and winced. He tracked the movement and then stopped his pacing and asked sharply, “are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, Azriel,” she snapped. “You’ve been grabbing at my throat like a caveman since I showed up. I will be bruised, I reckon. Guess I'll consider it your parting gift, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “don’t be dramatic.”

“You are such an arsehole,” she groaned and then turned around and headed for the doors. “Where the hell is your bride? When is this shitshow going to start? Why did you invite us for 11 am, when it’s almost noon and we are nowhere near getting this done.”

“How many times did you fuck him?” he asked instead. 

“Ohmygod, are you back to that?!” she cried, exasperated. “Why do you care?”

“I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine,” “It’s not yours!”

“I beg to differ. So? You are not leaving this fucking room until you tell me,” he warned her.

She sighed and collapsed on a chair–thank god that it was here, because otherwise, she’d just lay on the floor. He was scaring her and exhausting her all at once, and this was promising to be the worst day of her life.

“It’s not what you think it is,” she began and he sighed an annoyed sigh. 

“Great start, Elain,”

She was wringing her fingers, looking down at the floor.

“It’s not new…Fen, that is. We’ve known each other for many years. He isn’t my boyfriend,”

Azriel stared at her, looking for any sign of a lie. 

“I am sure there is more to this,” he prompted patiently.

“I lost my virginity to him,” she told him softly “We dated when we were younger. He is a good man.”

Azriel licked his lips and thought.

“So you brought him here to make me jealous?” he pondered.

“No,” she argued defensively. “I did not want to come alone. And why would you care anyway?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said sternly. “We’ll discuss all of this later.”

Elain sighed. What was there to discuss exactly?

“Can we go back to the guests?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and said ‘no’. 

“When is Gwyn arriving?” Elain pressed. “I don’t want to be here with you when she arrives.”

He bubbled his lips and muttered, “soon. Soon enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but she didn’t ask. He was already acting strange. She didn’t want to push him further. She understood that there was some internal conflict related to her that he was fighting, but also, it was his wedding day and he was bound to be jittery.

What she didn’t expect were his next words.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, flexing his fingers at his sides. 

“What? No!”

“I said I want to kiss you,” he repeated, coming closer. 

Elain’s  breathing turned fast and jerky, and he could see her pulse through her pale skin. 

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “You are marrying someone else. What are you doing?!” her hands pressed to her chest in a futile attempt to keep him at bay.

He stood over her and then stooped and pressed his hands over the back of the chair, caging her in. 

“You will still deny me?” he questioned, raising his brow at her.

“I am not,” she muttered desperately. “But…but,” she licked her lips, “you aren’t available,”

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and leaned closer, his breath fanning over her face, his hands still squeezing the back of the chair. “I want you to submit to me and kiss me.”

She blinked at him, her expression confused and panicked. 

“Kiss me like you love me,” he urged. 

“I…what…” she kept mumbling, looking around for a way to escape, and knowing there wasn't any. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” he said calmly, though his ‘calm’ was somehow terrifying. “And I asked nicely.”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she reached up and timidly touched the back of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was.

“Then I will be forced to take it,” he shrugged. “And you might not like it.”

Elain did not doubt him. Azriel was the type to take what he wanted from her. He always tittered on the edge of consent and force, and it seemed to her that ‘consent’ was more of a modern trapping to him rather than an obligation. This was the same man who made himself comfortable in her house, then in her bed, who’d basically moved into her home without her inviting him, who’d put her on his lap or slapped her ass whenever he felt like it. He didn’t hesitate to tell her what to do and where they’d be going, and took the reins whether she asked him or not. 

“Elain,” he said sternly. “I am waiting.”

She pressed her thighs together under her long skirt, overwhelmed by his closeness and his demand. He watched her carefully, studying her reactions, the muscles under his shirt flexing and rolling beneath the material.

“Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed slowly and warmly, leaning even closer to her. “Give it to me.”

Somehow Elain knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this and frankly, this was on him. He was the one getting married. She wasn’t his moral police–if he wanted to be unfaithful to Gwyn it was up to him. He was a player, after all, and she supposed that this is what it looked like in real time. She was just too stupid to realise before that he wouldn’t have been faithful to her either. 

She pulled her head to her and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. 

It was angry.

Azriel pulled back away from her quickly and she thought that it was over. She exhaled a ragged breath.

He looked at her, head cocked, and then suddenly kissed her nose lightly. It was gentle. Playful.

Then his hand shot up and he pressed his thumb to her mouth, running it slowly over her lower lip, feeling it up, reminding her with his touch of how she used to kiss his fingers and his scarred hands. How she called them beautiful.

Without warning, he pushed his thumb between her lips, deeper than she even expected and she sucked on it nervously, her tongue wrapping around the digit. He smiled, watching her.

“Good girl,” he praised, rubbing his thumb against her tongue. “This isn’t very difficult, is it?”

She couldn't answer, her mouth being fully occupied, as she sucked and licked him, but it felt normal. It felt normal to offer him pleasure. Familiar even. She liked pleasing him. Always have. 

She nodded. No, it wasn’t difficult.

With his thumb still inside her mouth, he leaned in and kissed her. 

She paused, but he pushed his finger over her tongue, urging her to continue, while his warm, full lips languidly sucked on her own. He smelled good and tasted the way she remembered, and the way she loved. The kiss was hungry and possessive, and he kissed the way she loved being kissed. She forgot everything for a few blissful moments, when her fingers slipped from his neck and squeezed his obscenely firm biceps, luxuriating in the solid mass of his body. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured into her mouth. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access, and he fell into the kiss with rabid determination, eliciting a breathless whine from her full lips. His tongue met hers, overtaking it at once, and unbothered by the presence of his finger. He licked on her slowly, but thoroughly, bruising her lips with how hard he sucked and tugged on them and not feeling the littlest bit of shame. 

“Gorgeous,” he repeated, “but fucking stupid.”

Elain gasped and pulled back, her eyes opening up. She pushed his thumb out forcefully with her tongue and panted, looking at him.

He straightened and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why am I stupid?” she challenged. 

“I don’t know,” she crossed his arms and propped himself against the wall. “You are posh. Probably makes you naive. To a stupid degree.”

“I am not naive,” she argued.

“No, you really are. Like you don’t see anything that’s in front of your eyes.”

“And what’s in front of my eyes?” 

Azriel rubbed his chin and instead of answering, he suddenly said,

“Do you know how difficult it is to find someone who looks like you in porn?”

Elain was pretty sure that it was a rhetorical question, even if she didn’t understand it.

What, she mouthed, utterly confused by this new, odd revelation. Her lips were still tingling from his kiss. She was hot. She hoped someone had some deodorant. 

“Took me weeks of scrolling on PornHub,” he continued, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to himself. “I tried and I tried to find something suitable. But how do you search for a posh bird on PornHub, who looks like you and would get all her holes filled?”

“Azriel…” she murmured, blushing violently. “Don’t say things like that…”

“I mean, I watched a lot of porn to finally land on a girl who resembled you. My dick was chafed,”

“Azriel!”

“After all that, all I could come up with was one scene. One. I jacked off to that scene for weeks. She did look like you–not in your fancy fucking way–but she had the same pink tits and the shape of the body was similar. Your big long hair. 

“She was a lot more submissive than you,” he added. “But that could be worked on, right?”

“I think you are rambling,” she rose from her chair and smoothed down her gown. “And I think I am done with you.”

“Oh no, Elain,” he smiled a cruel smile. “You aren’t done with me. Because I am not done with you.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged and headed for the door.

Then she overheard his sneer,

“Still stupid. Even now.”

She turned around swiftly and shouted, “What the hell?! Stop calling me stupid! I am not!”

“You are,” he said flatly. “You are. Because you never realised that all of it was a lie.”

[epiphainie]

what are some moments you’d like to see or you think we *should* get together between bucktommy in season 8? ‘should’ - not as in must get! but moments you think would be important to their growth and establishing them as a long term couple and would be very good for the story they’ve built so far

Hi anon,

Sorry for the very late reply, I had to think about this a bit because I love this question! This will get long, sorry in advance.

I think first things first, we need some drama lol. Seeing how a couple overcomes conflict for the first time is seeing how the relationship can/will prevail in the long term. It's also important as a story element, conflict is what makes characters make decisions and take actions, what enhances the emotional impact etc. After all, what is more satisfactory than the sense of resolution that feels earned?

I think the first type of conflict I would like to see them navigate through would be something interpersonal. I don't really want a bloated case of miscommunication because so far they have been presented to do very well in that aspect (Buck is for once not just going with the flow but proactively pursuing this relationship, they both apologize, they both hear each other, they both reassure the other etc.) but the reality is every new relationship will have a stumbling bit when it comes to communication.

I don't know what they'd specifically deal with (like Henren had trust issues and Madney ignored talking about mental health) but Buck - despite his progress - has very well-documented issues around his self-perception and the concept of love and we know it took Tommy a great deal of effort to become the guy he is today (who's in tune with Buck and seem to communicate very well), he also has his own demons. So the right triggering event can cause a moment of unexpressed emotions on both sides. (Our fic writers have been great coming up with ideas for this and I've seen many posts speculating, so if anyone has any specific scenarios in mind please put in the tags.) What I would really really love to see in a scenario like this is an explicit, on-screen reassurance of each other about the root of their issue. I want Buck to have a love interest who with clear words say what Buck needs to hear and I want Buck to reciprocate. Like I said, we've seen BuckTommy be mutually really good at this so far, so I would love to see how it looks when they deal with something bigger.

The second type of conflict I'd like to see them handle would be a conflict caused by an external threat. Maybe not something as dramatic (and hurtful) as Madney dealing with Doug but anything that puts them through the wringer a little bit. This and what I said above wouldn't need to be mutually exclusive events obviously (Gerrard, for example, can be an external threat AND a trigger for individual insecurities, interpersonal conflict etc.) but this I specifically want because I believe to convincingly set them up as a long term/significant relationship, they should show us them being a team, a united front. Where my first point was about seeing how they would navigate their individual traumas together, this is about seeing how they'd deal with the world that throws them a wrench.

Now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, I think we need to see how they would act as a couple in a group setting. This obviously touches many of the points we've collectively made over the past few months about how there's so much potential re: Tommy interacting with the other 118 members. I think one of the biggest fails of Buck's previous relationships from a writing point was how little they existed within the rest of Buck's world. The first time I watched that scene of Buck, Taylor, Eddie, and Chris having dinner together I had to do a double take because so much of Buck's relationship with Taylor and Buck's relationship with everyone else felt like two different shows. It was cute when Buck said "You don't want to see a hangry Taylor" - it made them sound domestic, it made their relationship feel actually lived. This is such a little thing for BuckTommy to feel integrated and real imo. I don't mean they have to write BuckTommy as the center of attention in a group setting, what I mean is that they need to extend BuckTommy's existence as a couple to the broader context of the show.

Kind of building on this, another thing I think would serve very very well here is if we see Tommy interact with others when Buck is not there. If we want BuckTommy to exist beyond the context of their 1:1 scenes, we need Tommy as an individual to exist beyond that as well. Again, this is going back to how Tommy has the potential for these dynamics to feel organic in a way that didn't exist with prior LIs before. And I think one specific thing I would really like to get (and this is gonna sound ironic bc I said we need Tommy uncoupled from Buck just now) is Tommy talking about Buck to other people. As we need Tommy to exist in Buck's greater world, with his people in a way that his ex-girlfriends didn't, we also need Buck to exist in Tommy's world even when he's not there. The only comparison I can make here is Abby as she was the only previous LI who had her own relationships, but damn, did we ever see a love interest talk about why Buck matters to them, how he makes them feel etc. I wanna know how Tommy perceives Buck. This is like 101 if you wanna sell to the audience the love interest is actually interested too.

Couldn't find a place for this (maybe group-setting entry was more fitting love) but I also would really like to see them act casual. This is way more superficial than my other points but I was just watching some 911: LS scenes and I truly believe one of the reasons Tarlos is sold so well is because we get domestic, comfortable touches in every scene. Again, making a relationship feel actually lived. I don't think any of the 911 couples engage in this as much as Tarlos do but they certainly still do to a degree and I want and need that for BuckTommy.

Thanks for the ask anon!

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

september 1, 2021 5:00 p.m. newcrest hospital

[five hours later]

[dr. winters] so, you’re an interesting case.

[grant] don’t i know it?

[dr. winters] fortunately, the excellent news here is that your physical exam is overall outstanding.

[dr. winters] all your blood work and vitals are great, your eyesight’s correctable to normal, and you have no other underlying disease besides the autoimmune stuff.

[dr. winters] disclaimer that you should lay off the cigarettes, but...

[dr. winters] still, based on these factors, i see no real reason to deny your medical on physical grounds. the MRI of your spine was very concerning, but i did read the letter from your rheumatologist clearing you for work again, and you passed all my exams just fine, so it’s not an issue in my eyes unless your disease and/or functioning significantly worsen.

[grant] well, that’s...good?

[dr. winters] not so fast. don't get too excited. as much as i'd like to send you out with your medical today, i can’t.

[grant] alright. fair enough.

[dr. winters] i'm not denying you, to be clear. i'm deferring your case to federal administration.

[dr. winters] this is the unfortunate part. because you suddenly admitted to having previous substance abuse issues, have brand new mental health diagnoses, and are on some medications that are neither approved nor banned, it’s out of my hands.

[dr. winters] you would need a special issuance medical, which is only something the administration can give out.

[dr. winters] if you’re granted one, it is a full first-class medical and will clear you to fly and hopefully approve your current medications with no issues, but it will tag you as having health conditions, and it’ll probably place restrictions on your medical, like more frequent medical exams and no flying if you’re having x, y, and z symptoms.

[grant] okay, sure. what should i do next?

[dr. winters] well, i'll forward all the paperwork from you to them along with my reports from today. at some point, the administration will send you a whole bunch more paperwork in the mail, and they’ll ask you to explain all your medications, your psychiatric history, and why the hell you were diagnosed with multiple psychiatric disorders all at once and so late in life.

[dr. winters] whatever you say, be as honest as possible. i will gently remind you that lying to them is a felony.

[dr. winters] you’ll mail all your responses back to them, and then they’ll tell you to submit to a neurocognitive screen and a psychiatric evaluation. i can go ahead and refer you to doctors who can offer you those screenings. they'll also want statements from any psychiatrists and therapists you've seen basically confirming they think you're stable enough for this kind of employment.

[dr. winters] and finally, after they review all the new materials plus your flight records, you’ll either get approved or denied.

[grant] there's some hope?

[dr. winters] yes. you have held a medical before. you'll just have to jump through more hoops this time to prove your capabilities. worst case scenario you lawyer up and sue until you get results. and no, i'm not joking. in complex cases like yours, i often recommend a lawyer.

[grant] i don’t want a lawyer.

[dr. winters] at least not yet. don't count the legal route out. the worst worst case scenario is that you're denied. if they deny you and you feel that's unfair, the law is the only solution you have left.

[grant] got it. well, um, thanks for all your help. i guess i'll wait for new paperwork from the administration then. how long should the whole process to take, assuming it all goes smoothly?

[dr. winters] oh, it won't go smoothly. your case will sit on someone’s desk until the file rots or the sun blows up, whichever comes first, unless you call incessantly. so, do that. call, call, and call again until someone does something with it.

[dr. winters] and maybe you’ll get a final decision in...

[dr. winters] six months? a year? hopefully not longer than that.

[ericshoney]

Caring Boy ~ Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Your boyfriend Matt is a walking green flag and helps you when you feel down or are sensory overloaded.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, Autistic!Reader, sensory overload.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your boyfriend Matt Sturniolo was amazing. He was a walking green flag. You had met Matt when you were just ten, he was eleven, and there was an instant connection. You both, along with Nick and Chris, were inseparable and when you turned sixteen, Matt seventeen, you both started dating, just before they started their YouTube channel.

One thing you always struggled with was depression and anxiety, along with being diagnosed with autism at an earlier age. Matt had been right by your side through everything. He always carried something for you in case you needed a stim break, made sure you had all your meds regularly and never ran out, and most importantly, a shoulder to cry on the rough days.

When the guys moved to LA, Matt instantly said you should go with them, which you did, now living with the trio. Chris and Nick also helped where they could, especially if Matt was busy, which you appreciated, but Matt was special as he was your boyfriend.

Today happened to be one of those rough days. The guys had to be up earlier for a meeting, so you would be on your own for a few hours. It didn't bother you since you would lay in for a bit, or so you thought.

You woke up at one, which was strange since you usually slept a bit later. Your mind was racing slightly as you knew the guys had already left for the meeting. You decided to take a shower, seeing if that would help.

However, the water was more on the cold side, resulting in taking a quick shower but not washing your hair. You got out and dressed into some shorts, a Fresh Love hoodie and slipping some socks on.

You then went to the kitchen and grabbed something to eat. You saw a pack of Pop Tarts so you grabbed a packet and sat on the sofa, scrolling through your phone.

As you ate your breakfast and scrolled on your phone, you tapped your foot a bit, liking a few posts you saw and random TikTok's.

But an hour later, after seeing many cute and pretty girls on your socials, you started to feel insecure. You had also forgotten to take your meds, completely ignoring the reminder on the fridge.

You threw your phone down and laid on the sofa, trying to ignore it. Matt always told you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were. So you had a minute thinking about that, but the more you did, the more you missed him, even if he was already on his way home with Nick and Chris.

You then stood up and went to find some of your stim stuff. You got a bit frustrated as you couldn't find them instantly, but finally found a small popper.

You walked around the living room, using the popper, so focused on it, you didn't hear or see the guys walk in. Nick walked up the stairs first, quickly signalling Matt to get you.

"Hey baby, you okay." Matt called, grabbing your hands gently.

"I, hey! When did you get home?" You asked, slightly shocked to see him suddenly. You also saw Nick and Chris, who both gave you a soft smile.

"We just got home. What's wrong baby?" Matt asked, noticing the tears in your eyes.

"Just...I woke up and my mind was racing, like lots of random thoughts. I then took a shower but the water was cold! So I took just a quick shower and didn't wash my hair which is really annoying, I mean I know it's not greasy but it would have just felt nice. Then I got some Pop Tarts to eat as I watched my phone for a bit, but all these pretty girls kept coming up and the same on TikTok, so I came off cause it started making me feel bad. Then I remembered what you said about me being pretty and you loving me, but it made me kinda sad cause I missed you. Then I needed to stim, but couldn't really find anything good so I'm using this." You rambled, holding up the popper to show him.

Matt shared a look with Nick and Chris, both boys knew what he was thinking. Nick went over to where they keep your meds and opened it to see today's still there. The eldest sighed and showed Matt.

"Baby....you haven't had your meds." He said softly.

"Shit...I forgot. I'm sorry!" I cried.

"No, no baby. It's okay. I should have set a reminder on your phone." Matt replied, watching as you played with the rings on his fingers.

Nick came over and passed you the correct meds as Chris got you some water to take them with. The three watched as you swallowed them all, Matt praising you softly.

"Thanks guys." You said.

"Your welcome." Nick replied.

"Wanna go watch some movies?" Matt offered, making you nod.

The two of you then went to his room, where you cuddled up to him, watching your favourite movie on the TV, happy to have Matt by your side.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I read a comment today that said “KP has always been the leaker. Daily Mail admitted in a court case they received leaks from KP”. I’m wondering if you could help refresh my memory about what leaks from KP this person is referring to?

Can you share the DM article that this comment was for? I want to see if I can track down the specific court case the commenter is referring to because I do not remember that at all.

First, remember that up until March 2019ish, Kensington Palace represented Harry and Meghan. It is significantly more likely that "KP has always been the leaker" is about Harry, Meghan, and their staff leaking more than it is about William and Kate. (That's not to say William and Kate don't leak - they do, but not anywhere close to the extent that the Sussexes did.)

Second, some of the things that KP has been accused of leaking:

their address/home in the Cotswolds

Meghan made Kate cry

"what Meghan wants Meghan gets"

the "I taste egg" telling-off Meghan got from The Queen

the bullying allegations and investigation

"Duchess Difficult" (which began in late 2018 with an email from Jason Knauf that staff found Meghan difficult to work for)

all the private flights they took Summer 2019

the Sussexes planning to move to South Africa in December 2019, then to Canada

Megxit in January 2020

that William was Harry's best man for the wedding (allegedly, per Spare)

Archie's birth

the breach of Kate's medical records

Details of Meghan's background to Finding Freedom authors (which isn't really a leak because there's an evidence trail proving she authorized those discussions)

But I can't remember any of these being exclusively revealed by the Daily Mail:

the Cotswolds privacy breach was by paparazzi with a drone.

Camilla Tominey broke a few of these, but she writes for the Telegraph.

The South Africa move and the bullying allegations was The Times.

Megxit was The Sun.

William being Best Man, Archie's birth, and Kate's medical records was a palace press release.

The only "leak" I can remember coming from the Daily Mail is Richard Eden's story about the Kate v Rose feud that turned into the affair rumor, but that's not something the Daily Mail would ever admit to doing.

So I'm not really sure what the Daily Mail admitted to or what the commenter is thinking about without being able to chase down the actual case filing. I tried a google search for it but all I got were stories about Kate's BBC video being rushed out because KP was concerned about it getting leaked so I need something more to go on.

Third, I don't think even Harry knows what leaks he's accusing William of. Harry made many comments to Oprah, the Netflix docuseries, and the promo circuit for Spare talking about how the palace was always leaking against him and Meghan but he never provided any details or specific examples. It's hard to take accusations seriously when you don't know what the charges are.

[sturniolo04]

Boyfriend's Brother M.S. & C.S.

Bf!Chris x Gf!Fem!Reader x fwb!Matt

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

Emmy's POV: His hands were all over my body making me feel safe and loved. His lips roamed all the places I wanted him to roam finding all of my sweet spots in need. I tugged on his messy brown hair not being able to contain myself from his touch.... i giggled at his cuteness finally sitting next to me on my bed cuddling me finally

Matt: jesus youre adorable

Emmy: you are too

Matt: whatever

Emmy: You have to go back home otherwise Chris is going to find out about this

Matt: fine leaving now

he says rolling off of her bed putting his clothes back on

How long has this been going on you may ask since the day we became best friends. there was this spark between me and Matt and it just happened so fast I couldn't see it coming or stop it from coming.. it just happened...

Matt: I will hopefully see you tomorrow night maybe princess

Emmy: we'll see Matthew

I replied after he leans over and gives me one last peck on the lips. He leaves to room as i stand up getting ready ironically enough I am supposed to be hanging out with Chris today.

Madi came back in the room, Madi was my roommate in our new apartment together

Madi: heyy

Emmy: hey how was Jacob's

I ask seeing she stayed over last night

Madi: great he is just amazing

she states plopping on my bed

Emmy: well thats good Madi

Madi: what about you? you and Chris good

Emmy: i mean kinda

Madi: ooo spill sista

Emmy: its totally nothing were fine 

Madi: Emmm

Emmy: i just- i dont- got alot to figure out is all

Madi: Okay well i am here for you love

Emmy; I know

I state as Madi gets up and head back to her room

and it was true me and Chris are good

Emmy: oh hey  i am leaving with the Chris in 10

Madi: okay have fun

Emmy; Thanks i will definitely try just that

i tease as she throws a pillow at me laughing. We posted a new roomie type instagram since we live together now

@itzemmy

itzemmy: look at my roomie <3

and I headed out the door 

I met up with Chris and we were just walking around the mall hanging out like normal when well

Chris: i just dont feel like you feel the same way about me that i do for you

Emmy:  What no i totally do Chris

Chris: yeah

Emmy: yeah i wouldnt be dating you if that wasnt the case silly

you say pushing him playfully as you guys walk through the mall

Emmy: we are back

I announced walking in the Sturniolo house, since I knew madi said she was hanging out here today, sitting on Chris' lap seeing Matt glance over in my direction

Madi; im going to go see Jacob so see ya losers

she sates walking out the door. i walk into chris' room sighing after Chris left to go run some last minute errands, hopping in the shower to wash off the day as i feel a presence behind me

Emmy: Matthew!

i whisper/yell

Matt: Pincess

he responds leaning in for a kiss

Emmy: no Matt we cant not now not ever

i say freaking out turning the water off and getting out and grabbing a towel wrapping it around my body walking into my room with him following

matt: why not Emmy

Emmy: Because i'm dating your brother thats why Matt

Matt: ...

Emmy: and we cant hurt him

i said on the verge of tears seeing i did really like him

Matt: your right

he says walking out the door closing it behind him.. i couldnt help but cry... as Madi walk in

Madi: I knew you would-... Emmy

Madi: whats going on love

she says as the she squat down next to me by the bed

Emmy: i-i like a boy i am not suppose to like

Madi: Chris..

Emmy: no... its...

Taglist

@adirtylittleheart @mintsturniolo

[keelt9]

Chapter 4

Masterlist

It was the second time in a row my shoulder got stiff in the middle of a session. 

“Ok, let's take a time out.” Anton has been really patient with me, still I know some exercises must already be a piece of cake.

“It’s all right Y/N these exercises are the toughest ones, we are in a good time.” Liam knows this drill is helping me with my mobility and my muscle strengthening, still the stability and control in my shoulder is trouble.

5 days ago, we went through a very sentimental moment. Grabbing a bow was part of my daily routine; after I got injured, seeing a bow was odd. The effort you need for you to tighten the bowstring is around 20-30 kg; after I get injured I barely can rotate my shoulder without feeling a crashing sensation. The adrenaline that was running all over my body along my heart rate faster formed a smile on my face.

After that day, all passed in a blink. I felt I open and close my eyes, suddenly; in a week the coaches will come. 

“What about if you try now with an arrow?” Anton says, picking one of the arrows next to my stuff. Where was the part of taking it slow?

“We talked about it Y/N, you need to lose the fear and try again.” I move my head so I can observe Liam who keeps hiding at the back of Anton. 

“Don’t look at me.” Liam laughs and walks to stand at my left, just a few centimeters from me so he can grab the bow; without the sling, which is what keeps connecting the bow with my hand, it always comes out so someone must grab it. 

“Try it.” Anton closed my hand around the bow and nock the arrow.

I hear Liam in the middle of my faltering. “Steady, calm and breath.” I adopt the anchor position, I grip the bowstring and wait a second until my shoulder finds stability along my hand, in a blink the stiffness appears and disappears in seconds. When I get the right spot and my shoulder feels right, I let it go.

The electricity I feel as I hear the sound of the arrow pass through the bow is out of this world; my wrist remembers the followthrough movement, I end with a grind appearing in my face.

“Nice shot.” Anton claims watching the arrow hit the red circle. “8” 

My picky side knew with these conditions; no strong air, or gust, I always get 9 and 10, not 8 close to 7. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve done better.” Liam shakes his head as he disassembles the bow, still couldn’t hold his need of teasing me before leaving.

“Couldn’t agree more, you get me used to 10.” He giggles and pats my back. “I’ll take charge of this, take your time and go rest, that's enough for today.” He grabs all our stuff with Anton's help and leaves the room.

I start to take the tape out of my fingers; I always bandage my fingers even when I use the finger tab; it gives confidence knowing my fingers have a plus of protection, especially after not practicing for a little bit more than a year. 

However that last like 2 seconds because after hearing the pop of the door I heard it one more time, just in these case someone crash with me, hugging me as soon as can reaches me, one hand at the back of my neck and the other in the middle of my back, leaving me breathless for the impact.

“That…That was out of this world!” I recognize his fragrance and the difference of height. Max came out of nowhere.

“Where do you come from?” I put my hands at his back, having him near calms me. 

“I’ve been watching you from that window.” He turns around not to let me go, so I can see the window. “You've been amazing. I told you, didn't I?”

This time he let me go but still grabbed me by my arms softly. 

“A hazy reference.” I joke with him making his tongue click, the silence that follows, give me time to do what in these past weeks it’s been a habit, let his blue eyes bring me harmony.

The sound of people talking outside gets me back to the moment. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Belgium?” I move softly so we can split. 

“I am.” Max laughs and grabs his cap which I didn’t realize was laying on the floor. “Ok, I’ll be, I just have to make a quick stop…”

He stops talking, I move my head and encourage him to keep doing it. “For…” 

“I need a recharge.” I furrow my eyebrows.

“Recharge?” 

“I will spend 3 full days surrounded by the press, which sometimes drives me crazy, so I have to recharge… of soothing.” I’m lost.

“Where do you get that?” I ask him scoffing trying to put my hands on my waist, but he grabs one and helps me to take off the bandage of one of my fingers. 

“Am I allowed to show you?” This is weird, still I assent and he bites his lip before kissing forehead. “Just being here.”

He didn’t know, but that soft peck left a burning sensation on me.

-

“Since when have you watched F1?” Liam scares me when I hear him at my back.

“Damn it! You scare me.” I turn my phone down. “It’s early, what are you doing here?” 

Liam looks at me suspiciously. “The same as you. I want to arrive early.” 

Even though I have made a big progress, from time to time basic movements, exercise or releases turn it pretty bad.

“I’ll help you with that.” He sees the brown tape over my lap. 

“Yes, please.” Laim sits in front of me grabbing my hand and bandages my fingers.

“Are you going to tell me or I have to ask?” He calls for my attention who is already on the screen of my phone one more time.

“Hmm?” Liams shakes his head, still grabbing my hand but points to the T-shirt which is perking in my bag. “Oh, am, right, it's… It's a gift.” A quick answer.

“A strange shirt, watching F1, in the same city as the Red Bull Facilities.” Liams cuts the last piece of tape and sees right to my eyes. “Plus a cap in your apartment.” 

“Liam…” He interrupts me, a kind smile on his face.

“Just…just don't create something that could hurt you. Don't let someone create something that could hurt you, ok?” Max won't do that, but I know I would do that to myself. 

“We're here just for a while, in a few months we will be in home training for the competitions, all right?” I know he says that because is concerned and wants the best for me, still causing me an unpleasant sensation.

When we called a wrap, I grabbed my phone to see Max's answer. <Call anytime> He is now in Zandvoort and in three days he has his home race. 

I'm not sure calling him knowing the press is surrounding him, and I’m feeling anxious is a good idea.

<Y/N! YOU ARE SO ANNOYING!> Mia's message makes me laugh, she is so convinced that I’m worried about nothing.

I stretch my shoulder, maybe I panic but these days I feel the sensation of stiffness coming back and not leaving. I did some stretches a couple of times until the stiff disappeared.

“Try to rest ok? I’ll pick you tomorrow morning.” Liam squeezed my left arm. “Everything is going to be fine.” I just press my lips together, faking a smile. “Night Y/N” 

Late at night I took a quick shower and grabbed one of the ice bags and sat in the bed, hoping that my mind is playing tricks with my body. I grab my phone taking my time to answer all my messages. Mom and dad with supportive messages, the team wishing me success and Mia keeps bothering about my overthinking; finally I take my time to answer Max. 

<I’m sorry I can’t be there.> He explains his useless attempts to get rid of work but he just gets the chance to leave after the race ends. I’ll expect that, still I feel a little bit down, it’ll be really helpful having him around. 

My answer was cut for his video call.

“Hi, there!” He has his messy hair sign as he probably uses his cap all day. “Are you all right?” I forgot I have the ice bag over my shoulder.

I take it off, resting importance. “I am a little bit sore but I’m fine.” He knows I’ll keep talking and saying what's on my mind. “I feel like I’m gonna cry any minute.” I shake my head, letting all my fears and vulnerability show to him. “What if I fail? What if they don’t see what they want to see? If I fail I can’t picture my life another year watching, being a spectator.” 

Max hears me all the time, his eyes express compassion and a lot of understatement even though he has probably never been in my place.

“I’m sorry, which was your last medal?” I scoff because he is always taking out; I got 2 of 3 gold medals in my last competition. “I’ve seen you working hard, all the effort you put on rehabilitation and with my, now deep compression about archery, Y/N you will get the green light, you won’t have to wait anymore. Let’s make a bet.” 

I wipe the tears from my eyes and take a deep breath smiling at him. 

“I’ll be there. When you shoot an arrow and hit the 10, I’ll be the first one from the terraces screaming at you, I told you.” I laugh, he lifts a weight off my shoulders.

“God, I wish you could be here.” I thought I said it to myself but apparently I said it out of loud. 

“I wish to be there too.” His eyes shift to an angry mood, so I change the subject. 

“How does it feel to be at home?” I sit with my cross leg, seeing him rolling his eyes and covering his face breathing out loudly.

“Fine but it will be better if I don’t have a reporter every 3 seconds close to me.” Max is an introverted guy even everybody though he likes the spotlight. 

“Just a couple of days and you’ll be free…” He smiles at me with his sleepy eyes stuck to my face. “For gaming all day.” He laughs with me. 

“Promise me one thing?” Max says his cellphone now in what seems to be the restroom, he points at me with his toothbrush. “You will take it with calm, breath and enjoy the day.” 

My eyes are half closed now. I raise my pinky finger and swear it to him. “What cost them it was just one day?” Max keeps complaining about not being able to come. 

“You be with me.” He rolls his eyes bluffing. 

“How?” I stretched and grabbed the T-shirt at the border of my bed. 

“Here.” I show it to him, pointing to the lion in the middle of the shirt. “You say it, a small you.” I feel my eyes close, still his giggles makes me smile.

“Sleep well Y/N.” I nod, burying my face in the shirt.

“Be safe.” I whisper to him, ending the call, the last thing I saw is his smiling eyes.

-

I get down my head tapping my finger on my shoulder silently praying the pain I feel is for my nerves instead of something going on.

Then the sound of voices increased until I could easily recognize the voice of Anton, Liam and 3 more voices, the main coach, Robert; the coach of the team, Marie Anne and a manager of the federation, Will. I stood quickly adjusting all the equipment all over me and taking a deep breath before the door opened.

“There is, a golden one.” Robert smiles and opens his arms causing Marie Anne to roll her eyes still smiling at me. “You look great.” He kisses both of my cheeks and Marie Anne follows him.

“Y/N, you look amazing.” She said taking time to look at me. “Let’s get started, all right?”

Each one of them took a seat in one of the chairs, Liam explains along with Anton as they point different parts of my shoulder, making emphasize in how great has been my rehabilitation and how optimistic they feel.

“What about you Y/N? Are you feeling well?” Robert asks me and takes notes in his hateful green notebook. 

Behind the doors, the team and I gossip about that notebook is hell in the earth, he takes notes of each one of our training, competitions, advancements and injuries.

“Yes, I’m feeling great, stronger each day.” Marie Anne smiles and claps her hands.

“Let’s see.” 

We walked to the back of the center where Anton arranged all the details to make it look closer as if I were in competition; as I walked down the corridors I felt eyes on me, whispers of curiosity of who were them and why I looked so scared.

I wore my classic black cap, with red lines at the side, and a small little fish at the back, clearly these caps Mia customized are for me. 

“Take your time Y/N, remember it’s not a competition, just give us a good look for future decisions.” Marie Anne said, I know she tried to calm me but that wasn’t the words I expected. 

I did some resistance exercises, shoulder strengthening; tests of coordination, flexibility and before the shooting tests I whisper at my bow and arrows before starting to get in anchor position. <Please, be nice to me.>

I draw the bow as I aim at the target looking for the perfect adjustment, not before I see the ground and smile, I can see the small lion on my chest. The arrow hits the red zone multiple times, in the final test of shooting just 2 times I reach the yellow zone, not good at all.

We kept talking for hours, Will barely said more than 3 sentences together, they explained their reasons to us and we to them, after 4 hours of intense thorough examination, they left as they came with a lot of noise surrounding them.

With shaking hands I dial the first name that comes to my mind. “Hey, am, could you help me with something?”

[malii-the-bonehead]

The Other Woman pt6

Heres Part 6, finallyyyyy.

Slow burn

Summary: Chris, a popular hockey player at school where Y/n went, found himself falling for the beautiful, shy girl. As time went on he found out who Y/n truly was as a person and ultimately, he had to make the choice, his girlfriend, or the other woman.

Part 6

Monday came by quicker than I had hoped. When I woke up that morning I felt so sick. I had a throbbing headache and my stomach was killing me. I had been up for probably 30 minutes before I had rushed to the bathroom to vomit the acids in my stomach, since I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. 

Yeah, I was not going to school today. I also called work and explained the situation. My boss was understanding. She told me to take as much time as I needed.

I turned off my lights and put the mini trash can from my bathroom next to my bed. I flipped onto my side, facing the edge of my bed in case I had to lean over and puke again. I curled up and held my stomach, feeling the pain finally take over.

– 

I woke up from the sound of my door being opened harshly. I groaned and opened my eyes. My mom was standing in my doorway.

“Y/n, what are you still doing here? It’s Monday. You have school.”

I explained to her how I wasn’t feeling well. She walked out of the room and came back with some water and medicine for me to take.

“Rest up then, kiddo.” She kissed my forehead. “If you need anything, just call me.” She pushed my hair out of my face then turned to leave the room. I checked my phone to see what time it was.

It was 11:30. They had 3 new messages. 2 of them from Chris and 1 of them from my dad. I checked the one from my dad first.

When you coming visit? I miss yall. Don’t be a stranger, Y/n. Text me back when you can. I love you.

I sighed and closed out of the message, then clicked Chris’s contact. I looked at his message, soon responding after reading them. 

Why aren’t you in 3rd hour? Are you here today? Soon after his first message he had sent, Hello?? 

I typed back, Sorry, Chris. I’ve been sleeping all morning. I’m sick with what I think is the stomach flu. But I should be back by Wednesday or Thursday. 

I shut off my phone. I wasn’t tired anymore so I grabbed my TV remote and played some music. I sat up in my bed and grabbed my school bag from the floor. I opened it and grabbed my computer, checking my school work I had missed for the day. I had probably 4 assignments. Soon after starting my first assignment, my phone buzzed. I picked it up and checked the message. Chris had texted back rather quickly. 

Send me your address. I’ll bring you some food and medicine. I laid back on my pillow, smiling like a 14 year old with a crush. I practically kicked my feet at his message. To be honest, I knew I’d get to this point with Chris. Where I would fall for him. But I think a part of me had always liked Chris. Even just seeing him walk past me in the hallways would always make my heart hurt, I just never realized I actually liked him until he talked to me the first time. I sent him a message back.

No, don’t worry about it. I should be fine but thank you. He read it. I sat waiting for his message for a while before I figured he wasn’t texting back. I shut off my phone and started working on my school assignments once again.

It took me about 2 hours to do everything I had missed. By the time I finished, school would have been 10 minutes from the final bell ringing. Chris had never texted back. I was kind of bummed about it, but tried not to think about it too much. 

I got up out of my bed and immediately felt a wave of dizziness overcome me. I rushed to the bathroom, emptying my already empty stomach once again. I sat on the bathroom floor for a good 20 minutes, too scared to move. Throwing up was definitely my least favorite thing. 

My mom came knocking on the bathroom door once I hit the 25 minute mark. Not that anyone was counting, except for me. 

I flushed the toilet and pushed myself against the wall. “You can come in.”

“Are you sure? Someone’s here to see you.”

My eyes furrowed in confusion. The bathroom door opened after a few seconds of silence. I saw my mom, water bottle in hand. She walked in, sitting next to me. After she sat down she called out, “Don’t be shy, we don’t bite.” She giggled and pushed my shoulder softly. I just looked at her, then towards the door. 

“I brought you some food and things to help with your stomach.” Chris walked in. My eyes widened and I tried to quickly stand up. The second I felt dizzy, I collapsed back into the position I was in again. Mom ran her fingers through my hair. Then she started to rub big circles into my back. Chris put the toilet seat down and sat on it. He was now in front of me holding a bag of food and medicine. “I didn’t know what kind of food you ate but Alice said you liked strawberries and toaster strudels so I grabbed a few packs of everything.”

Yep, I was for sure going to kill Alice. He pulled out of the bag a packet of medicine and a sweet tea, as well as a pepsi. He left the food in the bag but placed it on the counter next to my sink. He read the back of the packet and took out 2 pills, handing them to me along with the sweet tea. 

“How did you get here? I didn’t tell you where I lived.” I grabbed the things from his hands. My face was flushed and I was hot. I probably looked like a mess. My face was pale and my cheeks were red. My hair was a mess and I was wearing fuzzy socks and some shorts with a hoodie. It was hot and I was sweaty.

“That was also Alice. She’s very helpful.” He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. My mom put her hand on my knee. I looked at her.

“Say thank you, Y/n. He came all this way for you.”

My head was throbbing. “Thank you,” I mumbled. 

“I’ll leave you alone.” Mom stood up and walked to the bathroom door. “Yell if you need anything.” She walked out, leaving only me and Chris in the small bathroom.

Chris held his hand to my forehead. “Yeah, you’re definitely sick. You’re burning up. Where do you keep your towels?” I pointed to the cabinets under the sink. He got up and rummaged through the cabinet before pulling out a small black towel and running it under the cold water from the sink. He rang it out then placed it on my head. I went to grab it but he pushed my hand away, holding his hand and the towel to my forehead. 

“Thank you, Chris.”

He smiled and sat next to me, replacing the spot mom was previously in. 

“You know, 3rd hour was soooo boring without you.” He dragged out the so, making it seem way too dramatic. I looked at him. He pushed the hair out of my face and tucked the strands behind my ears. “Can I put your hair up for you?” I nodded my head.

“Let’s go to my room first. I’ve been here way too long.” Chris got up first, grabbing my hand to help me get up. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would have been so nervous. 

He led me out the door and to my bed. He let go of my hand and grabbed my desk chair. He pulled it to the side of my bed next to me. I turned my back to him, handing him the hair tie on my wrist. I held the towel to my head.

He gathered all my hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. He was very gentle. So gentle I almost didn’t feel it. “There, that’s better”

I felt my face heat up. I shifted and turned back to face him. He got up and went back to the bathroom, soon coming back with the bag of food in his hand. He placed it on my bed next to me. I rummaged through it, grabbing the pack of strawberries. They looked so good. 

“Here,” I handed him a strawberry. He took it and ate it. I also grabbed one and ate it. They were so sweet. 

“You have a nice room. It really describes who you are.” I looked at him puzzled.

“That is a good thing, right?”

He nodded his head at me. A few seconds passed but it felt like minutes.

“You know, you really didn’t have to come here for me. I’m grateful, but you could have been doing better things.” I looked at him. He was studying my room, looking around and messing with the trinkets on my side table. 

“I don’t mind. I wanted to see you anyway.” He looked at me, his head tilted. He had a grin on his face. My face was red once again. I kept eating the strawberries silently, offering some to Chris whenever he had finished his last. I grabbed the remote from my bed and turned off the music that had been playing for the past few hours. Now the room was completely silent. It was a comfortable silence. Something about Chris being here was making my heart calm down. My stomach started to feel better. 

He looked at me for a while before saying, “Alice is worried about you too. You should text her. Let her know you’re okay.” I smiled at him. 

“For being sick, you’re still really beautiful.” He pushed my hair back. I removed the towel from my head and put it on the empty spot next to me. I grabbed his hand from my hair. I dropped our hands into my lap and fiddled our fingers together. I played with his hand, but it didn't seem like he minded. I lifted our hands, placing one of mine against his. His were bigger than mine, only by a little bit. We both looked at our hands. I interlocked our fingers. I don’t know why I did that, but he didn’t pull away. We looked at each other. 

He’s so beautiful. So much prettier than me, that’s for sure.

I put our hands down on my bed. Our fingers were still wrapped around each other. 

“Why is it that everytime you come around, I get nervous?” I looked at him.

“I don’t know.” He responded slowly. “But, I think you make me nervous too. I get a tingly feeling around you.” His small confession caught my attention.

My eyes widened. “I get a tingly feeling too. Right.. Here.” I placed his hand on my heart. He held it there, feeling my heart beat. 

“Your heart’s racing.”

“I know.”

He looked at me and moved his hand away. He grabbed mine and placed it on his heart.

His heart is racing too. I felt my body go numb.

“Mine’s beating fast too, isn’t it.” He said that as more of a statement than anything. 

My breath hitched. I scanned over his face. His cheeks were a light pink. His hair was slicked back into a baseball hat, a little bit sticking out by his ears. He looked so good. I looked at his eyes then down to his lips. He noticed it and I moved my hand away.

I want to kiss him. God, I want to kiss him so fucking bad. 

I looked back to his eyes, his finding mine. I looked away from him. 

You’re sick, Y/n. No, that’s not important, he has a girlfriend. A beautiful and sweet girlfriend. Someone who doesn’t deserve anything less than Chris. Someone who is way better for him than you could ever imagine. 

Chris and Clairissa were perfect together. They’ve been dating since the beginning of our junior year. Everyone knew who they were and who they belonged to. It would be a sin to separate them. 

Chris spoke, pulling me from my thoughts. 

“I guess I should get going soon. I have a hockey game tonight. You should come.” I looked back at him.

“I know you aren’t feeling well, but if you end up feeling better, come watch it. It starts at 7 at the rink.” 

“I’ll think about it.” I smiled softly. He smiled back and patted my head. He stood up and pushed the chair back to its original spot. Chris walked to the door of my room, opening it. 

“If I don’t see you later, text me.” 

I looked down at my lap. “I will. Thank you again, Christopher.” He grinned.

“Anything for the pretty lady.” My head snapped up. There it was again. He called me pretty again. He turned and shut the door. Soon after, my door opened again and mom walked in. She practically skipped over to my bed, a big smile on her face. She pushed my shoulder softly again.

“He was cute,” She wiggled her eyebrows at me and giggled like a little girl. I smiled and sighed. 

“I know.”

[b4kuch1n]

hahaha wheee haha