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wavesoutbeingtossed · 2 months ago

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Blake Case Timeline: Unpacking the Taylor of it all

AKA Everything you never wanted to know about the media strategy of a celebrity scandal!

OK, I don’t actually know anything, but I am a girl with a keen interest in the media and how it’s used to cover a subject, and have a certain skill set that is appropriate for the task.

When I started drafting this post, I didn’t intend to do a deep dive at all. My interest was piqued over the link between the People article dropping about Blake Lively and Taylor’s mended friendship, Travis unfollowing Ryan Reynolds on Instagram, and the news of Taylor being subpoenaed in Blake and Justin Baldoni’s case. I was going to pick a few articles from the “trusted” outlets to show how each side covered the situation to show how easy it is to tell how stories are spun.

However, because I can’t be normal about anything, I ended up going down the rabbit hole of this case, and mainly about how Taylor has been used by both sides to tell it. Now, you get to go down the rabbit hole with me.

I'm putting the post under a cut because it's long as hell and I want to save your dashboards ��️

First things first, this review is specifically about Taylor. I am not commenting on the actual case itself (although I do have thoughts, naturally, especially now). I’m not here to litigate Blake or Baldoni’s cases (mostly). I’m here to show how their respective PR teams use Taylor in their strategies, and how Taylor’s team itself responds to it. Consider this a crash course in media literacy or something, if you’ve never had the pleasure of doing your own kind of media review.

I’m mostly presenting the media itself here and keeping my commentary to a minimum, to keep the focus on similarities or differences between language and narratives used. I’ve obviously got my own thoughts about what is happening and each party’s strategies, especially after reading a large volume of articles not only about Taylor, but the case itself (as well as the non-case PR being used to promote the parties). But I don’t want to distract from this task at hand, and I don’t want to claim myself as an expert by any means.

That being said, while I don’t want to colour anyone’s perspective ahead of time, here are a couple of notes about the methodology as it were:

I focused mainly on the main outlets that are covering the case and evidently have ties to the actual parties: Entertainment Tonight (which is infamously and very clearly Taylor’s team’s go-to), PEOPLE (which is IMO very obviously Blake and Ryan's, after doing this analysis) and The Daily Mail (which is definitely Baldoni’s).

I’ve also included TMZ and Page Six, because— spoiler alert— they’re used by all three IMO. (Both also have known ties to Baldoni’s team… But Page Six in particular appears to be Blake-Ryan friendly now.)

THAT being said… ALL outlets are used by ALL parties in this, including by Taylor’s team. (Again, IMO, but it’s a very educated opinion.)

Now, a few disclaimers about these sources:

Many of these outlets these are tabloids. Ultimately, take everything with a grain of salt, for the most part. Some much larger than others.

Entertainment Tonight and People are, by and large, two of the most trusted outlets in entertainment journalism and have been for decades, because of their strong ties to celebrities’ own publicists. (In other words, most of the stories you’re going to read in these outlets writ large are directly sourced by the celebrities’ publicists. If either of them says “a source close to [the celebrity] tells us…” you can be pretty much guaranteed it came directly from their PR team.) And, as noted above, ET is currently Taylor’s team’s most trusted outlet (for Reasons).

I’d say the other outlets are far more in the “grain of salt” category. That being said, TMZ does have close ties to many celebrities and is used by their publicists (including Taylor), but because they are so salacious and at times even unethical, you have to keep your eyebrows raised. (And in this case, TMZ has an in with Baldoni’s team via their history with the Depp-Heard trial, and his lawyer speaking directly to TMZ.)

Normally, I’d personally filter source credibility by their title, e.g. “an exclusive source close to x/a close insider to x” is more reliable than “a source with knowledge of x” is more reliable than “this paper has learned” is more reliable than “a source tells us” is more reliable than “someone told us” is more reliable than no mention of sources at all.

However, given the nature of this lawsuits, and the nature of entertainment journalism as a whole, that is a lot muddier in this case.

For instance, Page Six and The Daily Mail run a lot of “exclusives,” but believe me, after reading many of those “exclusives,” they’re clearly full of shit. As an example, in an unrelated article in recent months, Page Six ran an “exclusive” with a source saying Taylor was making Nashville her home base now that tour was over so that she could be closer to Travis in Kansas City. Um, she is indeed closer to Travis, however it happens to be under the same roof in whatever city they happen to be living in this off-season if you catch my drift. If anyone has read the recent “exclusive” in The Daily Mail about, um, Taylor and Travis’ extracurricular activities, you can also glean that there’s no way they’d be privy to any of that information, especially not about an infamously private pop star. So “exclusive” does not necessarily mean “truthful.”

In other words, you still need to use your brain cells. However, when an “exclusive” contains or repeats language or information that tracks with what is said by other (reputable) sources, it gives it more legitimacy and points to it coming from the same provider. Because even professional publicists are not above using seedier tabloids in order to fight fire with fire. (Including Taylor’s.)

Finally, general disclaimer: I am not a lawyer, nor a publicist. I'm just a girl with a blog who likes words.

With all that out of the way, we're off to the races! This is long and dense and probably interesting to about three people, but here it is! (I've added more thoughts at the very end.)

***

Context: The Lawsuits

Initial New York Times publication of Blake's complaint - December 21, 2024

Original NYT link (view in your browser's Reader Mode to get past the paywall) or internet archive link.

Blake's initial suit filed in December 2024 addresses her allegations of sexual harassment and subsequent personal retaliation. The events detailed in her complaint mainly occurred during the actual production of the movie and the following publicity tour.

I highly encourage people to read the complaint. There's so much being spun about the case (from both sides tbh), but this spells out what the actual basis of it is. Yes, it's Blake's filing, so obviously it comes to her defence and is clearly her side of the story. But even at that, the collection of evidence is compelling in terms of her actual legal case regarding her sexual harassment and the resulting smear campaign in the media and online. Especially because, for these purposes, the collected communications outline the strategy Justin Baldoni's team designed in order to execute the campaign against Blake in retaliation for her actions, including the deliberate inclusion of Taylor in their tactics. The PR team claimed "we can bury anyone," and essentially have endless resources at their disposal to do so.

Of note, this is the first direct reference to Taylor in these communications in August 2024, calling back to her relationship with Blake and more importantly, the link between Taylor's fanbase and Blake's as a threat to JB's image:

So incredibly glad that the press went so well today and from what I know, Justin felt incredibly supported. He is lucky to have you all. We took the day today to do some research and get digital quotes in from the two teams we use that get the best results. As you are both aware, we are in a predicament that we just do not know the outcome of right now. Saying that, full transparency is key here, we have seen the most innocuous issues tum giant due to socials or the hugest crisis have no effects on social whatsoever- you just cannot tell at this stage. But, BL does have some of the TS fanbase so we will be taking it extremely seriously.

While the rest of this particular message doesn't reference Taylor directly, I'm including it as an example of how the team planned to use (and manipulate) social media influence to take down Blake, because it demonstrates how it's done for smear campaigns in general:

We also understand audience is not solely JB fanbase but, the studio so it is covering all bases time. Quote one: $175k - this will be for a 3-4 month period and includes: website (to discuss) full reddit, full social account take downs, full social crisis team on hand for anything - engage with audiences in the right way, start threads of theories (to discuss) this is the way to be fully 100%protected. Quote two $25k per month - min 3 months as it needs to seed same as above - this will be for creation of social fan engagement to go back and forth with any negative accounts, helping to change narrative and stay on track. All of this will be most importantly untraceable. There is a lot more to both of these quotes but, easier to discuss via phone in terms of capabilities and what I have personally experienced in and out of crisis scenarios. Either way, I do feel it is better to be safe but - I do realize costs are something I am sure you did not count on when you took on this project nor, this situation."

Taylor is also mentioned in one of the PR team's projected response scenarios following those conversations:

As part of this, our team can also explore planting stories about the weaponization of feminism and how people in BL's circle like Taylor Swift, have been accused of utilizing these tactics to "bully" into getting what they want.

(The PR team's texts and emails were obtained by a subpoena Blake filed in September in pre-discovery prior to filing her suit in December. The publicist's former employer also filed a suit of their own against them in December, for among other things, conspiring to steal clients to start their own agency. The publicist used her work devices to communicate about the case and draft the strategy, and the former employer had the devices forensically audited after she left, which is the content included in the subpoena. The majority stakeholder in the publicist's new PR agency representing JB, which was formed in summer 2024, is Scooter B.)

Justin Baldoni's countersuit - January 16, 2025

Link to complaint

This is his team's response to Blake's lawsuit. It contains his side of the story, namely the background info about the alleged evening he met Taylor in passing at Blake's home and which he claims was a pressure tactic by both Blake and Taylor so that he'd accept Blake's script changes. This includes the infamous text message exchange where Blake calls Taylor and Ryan her "dragons," which he takes to mean they'd fight him if needed.

According to the timestamps on these exchanges, this appears to have happened in or around April 2023, before shooting began on the movie. (Thus before the recorded instances of harassment happened on set referred to in Blake's lawsuit.)

According to JB's account, he let Blake take a pass at a scene in the script and was concerned over the changes she made that differed from the source material, so he "diplomatically" told her they'd see how it would be incorporated into the final scene. Also according to him, Blake was "seemingly stung" by his response, and did not speak to him for several days, until she responds to him in what would become the now-famous Khaleesi exchange. According to him:

Lively was referring to an earlier meeting where Lively summoned Baldoni to her New York penthouse where Baldoni was greeted by Ryan Reynolds, who launched into enthusiastic praise for Lively’s version of the scene. Hours later, as the meeting was ending, a famous, and famously close, friend of Reynolds and Lively, walked into the room and similarly began praising Lively’s script.

Presumably, the famous friend is Taylor. (It's unclear when the prior "meeting" took place, though it would have been before April 14, 2023, which is the night this text conversation took place according to the time stamps. There's no mention if the meeting was days or weeks or months before, although noting that it happened at Blake's home in NYC and that Taylor was training then rehearsing then on tour in 2023, presumably the public nature of her schedule narrows down the time frame.) JB alleges that that meeting combined with Taylor's praise and the text messages below amounted to a threat with which he needed to comply.

JB responds to Blake's text confirming that he's working on the scene they're discussing, allegedly coming to this decision after feeling pressured by Blake and Taylor:

Great! Also was working on rooftop scene today, I really love what you did. It really does help a lot. Makes it so much more fun and interesting. (And I would have felt that way without Ryan and Taylor) You really are a talent across the board. Really excited nd [sic] grateful to do this together.

Excerpt of Blake's long text that presumably refers to Taylor:

[...] As for [redacted] and Ryan (and [redacted] for that matter). I'm the luckiest motherfucker on the planet to have them as my "Dance Moms" level stage moms. They are embarrassingly effusive. That said, they're also my most trusted partners and the people I go to first with anything creative I touch. And I'm the person they each go to first. That reciprocal creativity and support has been one of my life's greatest and most fulfilling gifts. When they loved and signed off on the pages, I felt good to send them to you. They asked what you thought specifically after. They checked in so many times. I told them that you laughed a bunch and said it's probably a blend but you appreciate my passion so much. Which of course didn't feel great for me. Or them. To have my passion praised instead of any specific contribution. Or even just that you didn't like the pages. Which was fine also. So I think they wanted you and me to see how they felt about the work because they've been by my side for far too many experiences where I've been overlooked. I spoke to you about this when we first met. They've watched me hand write scripts bc the director is too afraid to send the FDX file yet he scans and has someone hand type all 120 pages of my pencil rewrites. They've watched me be hired as a writer and paid a significant fee for it but on the condition that I never ask for credit, which I could give a shit about, it's more the principle of the dynamics at play. They've watched the other side of it too where I'm told at signing on that I'm wanted as a true collaborator, but once we get to work, I'm really just wanted as a 'yes man' audience and actor. Both Ryan and [redacted] have established themselves as absolute titans as writers and storytellers outside of their primary gig- just singing or just acting or [redacted] just directing. I'm so lucky to have them as creative barometers. But also to have them as the people who prop me up and make sure I'm seen for all I can, and do, offer. Because they know firsthand all I contribute. They also know I'm not always as good at making sure I'm seen and utilized for fear of threatening egos, or fear of affecting the ease of the process. They don't give a shit about that. And because of that, everyone listens to them with immense respect and enthusiasm. So I guess I have to stop worrying about people liking me. If you ever get around to watching Game of Thrones, you'll appreciate that I'm Khaleesi, and like her, I happen to have a few dragons. For better or for worse, but usually for better. Because my dragons also protect those I fight for. So really we all benefit from those gorgeous monsters of mine. You will too, I can promise you.

Later, in May 2024, nearer to the release of the movie, a conversation between studio executives mentions Taylor re: Blake asking her to use My Tears Ricochet in the trailer. (Justin alleges in his suit that Blake was withholding obtaining Taylor's approval of the song until her editor had time to cut her own version of the trailer. Notably, the studio seemed to easily agree to Blake's request.)

Blake is calling Taylor to approve the song. She of course just reached out saying she is asking for time with [redacted] her editor. We know it was conditional on signing contract – but asking if you will reconsider – so [redacted] can release this trailer and Blake does not change her [mind] re calling Taylor Swift.

ETA May 6, 2025: Another passage about the tension between JB and Blake discusses herself and the cast unfollowing him on social media, accusing her of dropping “crumbs” to make the public think JB did something wrong, referring to how she learned this tactic from a “celebrity friend.” I imagine you can deduce which friend the complaint is inferring:

On information and belief, Lively induced the other cast members to shun Baldoni, in an early attempt to give fans the impression that Baldoni had committed an egregious sin, something so egregious that no one wanted to even take photos with him or have him around. Lively was leaving what she had earlier referred to as “crumbs,” a social media strategy she had learned from a close celebrity friend: to give fans just enough to allow them to come to their own conclusions, thereby launching an army of detectives that, on information and belief, Lively hoped would turn against Baldoni.

***

Fallout: Taylor in the Press

Daily Mail - January 17, 2025

link to article

WARNING: DM is generally less than trustworthy *in most cases* when it comes to Taylor (but does have relationships with other celebrities). This is not labelled an "exclusive" nor does it claim that "sources tell Daily Mail" or anything similar, so normally I would assume the chances are even lower that this is reputable. However, I am including it for now because it seems to be the first public discourse about Taylor's feelings on the matter -- whether or not it's true, it sets the scene for the rumours all parties are trying to address. It also shares language/context that gets repeated later, which does make me wonder if it doesn't actually have legitimacy after all. On the other hand, as will become clearer with other excerpts from DM, it's evident that DM has a source with JB's team. So, take it with a grain of salt, but it is the first "reaction" to JB's filing:

'Taylor is proud of the film because her music was featured in it, which gave her a sense of involvement, though she wasn’t fully aware of the extent of the project’s developments,' they said. 'She is confused by the claims in the suit, as her connection to Blake is purely a friendship, with no interest in influencing or controlling Blake’s projects.' The source insisted that Taylor did not purposely plan to be there during the meeting. Instead, they said she was simply coming over to hang out with her pal but arrived while the meeting - which was supposed to have been wrapped up - was still going. 'She finds Justin’s interpretation of the encounter perplexing, and those close to her suspect she’s being drawn into the situation as a means to target Blake,' the insider continued. 'This was the first time that Taylor ever met Justin. She had no idea who he was and Taylor was simply being polite. She was polite to him as she is to everyone she meets.'

Daily Mail - January 29, 2025

link to article

Usual disclaimer about DM. I am including it for now because it does label it as an "exclusive," although the sourcing is murky. So, take it with a grain of salt, but on the rumour that there is a rift brewing between the two friends:

Lively later appeared to threaten Baldoni by comparing herself to Game of Thrones character Khaleesi in a series of text messages in which she referred to Reynolds, 48, and her best friend as her 'dragons'. The ‘uncool and unnecessary’ description was reportedly the final straw for Swift who had never planned to be at the meeting, but arrived at Lively’s New York penthouse to find it was still ongoing. ‘For the time being she is taking a step back from Blake because she doesn’t want to get tangled in this more than she already has – which is far more than she ever needed to be,’ an insider told DailyMail.com. ‘Her friends also think that Blake’s "I’m Khaleesi, and like her, I happen to have dragons" text to Justin was uncool and unnecessary because she was essentially used as an intimidation tactic. She was referred to as some kind of pet or possession. ‘Taylor shouldn’t even be involved in this at all. She was only going over to visit Blake and Ryan with the understanding that the meeting would be over.' [...] A second source said: ‘Taylor has politely backed away from it all. She is conscious of her own image and hates that she was even mentioned.'

Page Six - January 29, 2025

link to article

This seems to be the first article with a "source" refuting the tension between Taylor and Blake:

Taylor Swift and Blake Lively remain good friends despite Justin Baldoni dragging the pop superstar into his ongoing legal drama with the actress, Page Six can confirm. A source tells us that reports that Swift, 35, is trying to distance herself from Lively, 37, given the public relations nightmare are “not true” and that the two women do not have a strained relationship. Swift has yet to speak out, however, on her close friend’s legal issues with Baldoni, 41. Page Six has reached out to her and Lively’s reps for comment.

(I'm using "source" because it's specifically highlighted in the article title so that's generally more "backed up." Also, it sounds very similar to the following statement in People...)

PEOPLE - January 30, 2025

Link to article

In contrast to the Daily Mail article a day prior claiming Taylor and Blake are cooling off, this sourced article in People alleges they are fine:

Taylor Swift and Blake Lively's friendship hasn't faltered amid Lively's legal drama with Justin Baldoni. There's been no rift between the singer and actress despite reports of a strained relationship between Swift, 35, and Lively, 37, sources confirm to PEOPLE.

(Reminder: "sources confirm to PEOPLE" = generally from the horse's mouth)

Entertainment Tonight - January 30, 2025

link the post

Consistent with the People article, ET's source claims there is no impact on their friendship:

It’s been a dramatic few months for Blake Lively, but she still has Taylor Swift by her side.⁠ ⁠ Amid the ongoing legal battle between Lively and her ‘It Ends With Us’ co-star-director, Justin Baldoni, ET has learned that the singer and actress remain close pals and nothing has changed in their friendship.⁠ Meanwhile, a source tells ET, "Taylor supports Blake as she does with all of her friends." ⁠ This comes after a report making the rounds claimed Swift was "taking a step back" from the friendship after the singer was seemingly referenced in Baldoni’s lawsuit against Lively and her husband, Ryan Reynolds.⁠

I will note that it is curious to me that the direct quote states that Taylor supports Blake's case, but doesn't actually reference the rift allegations or her feelings. It makes me wonder if ET was extrapolating the friendship status from the "Taylor supports Blake" quote, or if they were given indication that that was the case and paraphrased it.

ET also published another post on the same day about Taylor supporting Travis at the Super Bowl. It doesn't reference the case at all, but IMO is consistent with many of the other statements her team made and would continue to make throughout the spring: that Taylor is focused on her personal life, and implicitly by focusing on that wants no association with a legal case that has nothing to do with her. (In other words, IMO they've tried to pivot the narrative away from the case repeatedly, until later in the spring when Taylor got dragged into it for real.)

TMZ - February 5, 2025

link to article

TMZ interviews JB's lawyer on his podcast, and this seems to be the first time the prospect of Taylor being subpoenaed and deposed comes up as a negotiation tactic for his case. (Again: given the obvious bias of the guest, take it all with a grain of salt.)

Harvey [Levin] hammers Bryan [Freedman] about potentially deposing Taylor … because she's central to the dispute by virtue of her involvement in an infamous meeting between Justin, Blake and Ryan. Taylor was there when Blake and Ryan met with Justin to discuss the rooftop scene in "It Ends With Us" ... it's the scene Blake rewrote and the meeting led to Justin's 2 AM voice note to Blake. Bryan is cagey about calling Taylor for a deposition, but watch the clip and read between the lines … a Taylor depo is on the table and Bryan can use it as a big bargaining chip to get a settlement. Yes, we're already talking settlement because as Harvey and Mark explain … there is no way this case is actually going to trial … for the very reason that none of these celebrities want to be subjected to depositions, courtroom testimony and especially cross-examinations. Taylor's the biggest star of them all though, and our read is that Blake and Ryan will do anything to keep their best friend from being grilled by Bryan … which could benefit Justin in the end.

In short: IMO JB's team seems to explicitly be using Taylor from the jump as a means to call Blake's bluff and get her to back down.

Entertainment Tonight - February 6, 2025

link to post

Given the reliability of the source (i.e. Tree's regular go-to), this feels like the "key message" Taylor's team is trying to issue about her stance on the case:

There’s no bad blood between Taylor Swift and Blake Lively – but a source tells ET that the singer is steering clear of the drama.⁠ ⁠ While Taylor’s name has come up amid Blake’s legal battle with her ‘It Ends With Us’ co-star and director, Justin Baldoni, the source says the singer “doesn’t want to be brought up at all or involved in any drama, especially since this isn’t related to her.”⁠ ⁠ The source adds of Taylor, “She wants to stay uninvolved."⁠ ⁠ That being said, the source notes, “Taylor is still close with Blake, but she is focused on her own life and everything she has going on. She is in a great place and wants to keep moving forward.”

(I bolded the "uninvolved" because this will come up again.)

US Weekly - February 6, 2025

link to article

US Weekly (as far as I know) does not typically have reliable/exclusive sourcing re: Taylor, so again: take this with a grain of salt. But it gets quoted in later Daily Mail articles and shares language with others, so it's here for recording purposes for its "exclusive":

Despite Taylor Swift’s name being mentioned in Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni’s ongoing legal saga, multiple sources tell Us Weekly that the pop star was not involved in the production of It Ends With Us. “Taylor has always been Blake’s friend, but Taylor doesn’t have any involvement in the case. She wasn’t part of the movie,” the source says. “Taylor was not a producer on the film and had no creative involvement.” [...] While she and Blake are friends, this case is now a legal matter for the courts to resolve,” the insider adds. “Dragging Taylor into it is unnecessary and misrepresents what really happened.”

(Reminder: publicists aren't above using a wide range of outlets that reach different demographics to get a point across, sometimes even with different angles being addressed.)

TMZ - February 6, 2025

link to article

TMZ marks this as an exclusive. On a personal note, FULL DISCLOSURE: when this article first dropped at the time, I thought that this was shit-disturbing from JB's camp, given that it is well known TMZ has close ties to his PR team via the Heard-Depp trial. AND right in this article, they talk to JB's own lawyer in their podcast. So, I figured they were trying to drive a public wedge between Blake and Taylor. Given the context we have now, and the similarity in language to other articles about it, I think it isn't unlikely (and perhaps, pointedly, in fact very likely) that it could instead be from Taylor's team. So, choose your own adventure.

Taylor Swift feels she was used by Blake Lively in her war with Justin Baldoni, and she resents Blake calling her one of her "dragons" and leveraging her name. As we reported, there was a critical meeting at Blake and Ryan Reynolds' NYC penthouse with Justin to discuss a scene that Blake had rewritten for "It Ends with Us." Justin has said the meeting got super heated, and he felt ambushed because Ryan and Taylor showed up. But a well-connected source close to Taylor tells TMZ … Taylor came to Blake's apartment at the time Blake told her to, not knowing anyone else would be there. In other words, Taylor had no idea there was a meeting going on with Justin. The source goes on to say … Justin was about to leave after the 2-hour meeting as Taylor walked in, and she was introduced to him for the first and only time. We're told all Taylor said to Justin was how excited she was to see the movie because he was her friend's boss. Our source says Taylor believes Blake timed her meeting with Justin so Taylor would arrive before he left and is baffled by Blake later characterizing her as her "dragon." The source adds, "It's weird to say that about a friend." As Daily Mail reported, friends of Taylor's called the dragon remark, "Uncool and unnecessary." [...] And there's more … the source says Taylor is also learning Blake has been inappropriately leveraging her name for a long time, like telling a young actress that Taylor "cast her," which simply did not happen. [...] This is a huge falling out ... Taylor is godmother to one of Blake and Ryan's kids. But, one source close to Blake has a different take, telling TMZ ... Blake believes the relationship is "not strained" with the two still talking regularly. Another source close to the situation says Taylor was pissed about the extent to which she was involved, and specifically she was angry about the "dragons" remark … but Blake has since apologized, they had a good cry and hugged it out.

(The fact that there are three different sources cited, with differing narratives, is... interesting.)

Page Six - February 6, 2025

link to article

Another "exclusive" about Taylor's feelings about being involved in the case, sharing similar language about feeling "used" as TMZ:

Taylor Swift “can’t help but feel used” by her pal Blake Lively, a source exclusively tells Page Six. The insider says the pop superstar “doesn’t appreciate being referred to as one of Blake’s dragons” after Lively’s alleged texts were revealed in a countersuit filed by her “It Ends With Us” co-star and director, Justin Baldoni. The alleged texts don’t specify who the “Gossip Girl” alum’s “dragons” are, but it’s believed by many that the actress was referencing husband Ryan Reynolds — and the Grammy-winning singer. [...] According to the source, “Taylor really wishes Blake hadn’t dragged her into this whole situation.” Swift, 35, and Lively, 37, “have been friends for years and Taylor cherishes genuine friendships, but she can’t help but feel used at this point,” the source tells us. The “Fortnight” songstress “wants to keep out of this drama as much as possible,” the insider says.

NOTE: given the consistency of how all of these Feb. 6 "exclusives" repeat the same key messages, namely wanting to be uninvolved in the "drama" and particularly Page Six and TMZ re: feeling used, this would lead me to believe they're likely coordinated and from the same source. (Source likely being: Taylor's team.)

Entertainment Tonight - February 7, 2025

link to post

This doesn't directly reference the case, but IMO is clearly a response to it, getting ahead of speculation as to why Blake is not attending the Super Bowl with Taylor after having been by her side at several games, including the big event, the previous year:

Blake Lively isn’t planning to join Taylor Swift at this year's Super Bowl. 🏈⁠ ⁠ Ahead of Super Bowl LIV, a source told ET that Blake had a blast with Taylor last year, but doesn't plan to join her in New Orleans as the Kansas City Chiefs take on the Philadelphia Eagles.⁠ ⁠ "Blake is not planning to join Taylor at the Super Bowl this year. They had a blast together last year, but this year Taylor is bringing others along," the source shared and did not specify what friends Taylor will be bringing.⁠

TMZ - February 7, 2025

link to article

This story is about Blake not appearing in Taylor's suite at the Super Bowl, although candidly, I don't think she was ever planning on being there given her retreat from the public eye even before the bombshells in JB's lawsuit. This mostly rehashes the previous article with a little different wording, following up on the assertion in the previous article that the friendship was fine:

We're told, despite what Blake thinks, their friendship is fractured after a text surfaced where Blake told Justin Baldoni she was Khaleesi (from 'GoT') and hubby Ryan Reynolds and Taylor were her "dragons." Taylor has not seen Blake in a while ... she's been spending lots of time with Travis and hasn't been in New York recently, but we're told the distance is more than geographic. TMZ broke the story ... Taylor was royally pissed off and, as a well-connected source close to Taylor told us, she was never her dragon. In fact, although Blake tried to make Justin believe Swift was siding with her over a script dispute, Taylor never had a dog in the fight. As we reported, Blake had invited Taylor over to her penthouse and Swift had no idea there was a meeting going on between Blake and Justin. Taylor walked in as Justin was leaving, and all she did was tell him she was excited to see his movie. To add insult to injury, we're told Taylor later learned Blake was name-dropping TS all over town. We also reported Blake believes her relationship with Taylor is not strained, although that's not what we're hearing from our sources regarding Taylor's feelings about the whole thing. Blake says they had a good cry and hugged it out. Even if that happened, there are unquestionably hard feelings on Taylor's side.

Entertainment Tonight - February 11, 2025

link to post

This doesn't reference Blake's case, but I'm including it here because... that's kind of the point. The message from Taylor's team is: Taylor and Travis want to be out of the headlines and take time off together to enjoy their private lives:

"Taylor and Travis are still going very strong," a source tells ET. "She has been supportive of him since his Super Bowl loss."⁠ ⁠ ⁠[...] So, what’s next? "They’re now focused on relaxing and taking time off," the source adds. And after an intense football season and Taylor wrapping up her record-breaking, two-year Eras Tour, that downtime is well deserved.

Page Six - February 18, 2025

link to article

This "exclusive" repeats a similar narrative found in the articles from earlier in the month.

Taylor Swift “needs space” from Blake Lively after her name was dragged into the ongoing lawsuits between the “Gossip Girl” alum and her “It Ends With Us” co-star and director Justin Baldoni. The pop superstar “is taking a break from their friendship right now,” a source exclusively tells Page Six. “Taylor is really hurt by this whole situation and feels like a pawn.” According to the insider, the Grammy winner, 35, “is keeping her distance” from Lively, 37, and her husband, Ryan Reynolds, 48. “Taylor wants nothing to do with this whole ordeal,” our source tells Page Six. “She has always been a loyal friend to Blake and doesn’t appreciate being thrown into this at all.”

(Again: take with a grain of salt. They could have a source, or they could just be repeating what they've heard elsewhere.)

TMZ - February 20, 2025

link to article

A user on Twitter digs up clips from the press junket for It Ends With Us, in which JB claims that he showed an actress' audition tape to both Blake and Taylor who he says both loved her, and another clip in which Blake says Taylor supported her through every step of the film process. Presumably this is the same actress that an earlier article claims Blake told Taylor got her cast, and equally that Taylor was unaware of that statement, although admittedly that's not confirmed.

Daily Mail - March 1, 2025

link to article (will need reader mode to access)

WARNING: Usual warning about DM applies, heavily so here. However, I am including it for now because it does label it as an "exclusive," although the sourcing is murky, and I have added thoughts below. So, take it with a grain of salt, but it states:

Now, another source claims: 'Taylor appears to have distanced herself from her best friend, who has accused a man of sexual harassment, despite being the godmother of her [Blake's] children.' 'Taylor is a sexual assault victim and spent more than a year of her life fighting for a case that she knew she would win. She has donated money to sexual assault victims' funds,' the insider said, adding: 'If Taylor truly supported Blake, would she not want to publicly back her?' 'Some people feel [Taylor] should be offering comfort and using her platform to rally Swifties in support of what is right,' the source said. 'Instead, Taylor appears to have gone silent and is staying out of the public eye. This will likely play a role in Justin's defense.' But, our source now says, her apparent refusal to address any accusations levelled against her, and her failure to speak out in support of her long-time friend, could be a nail in the coffin for Lively. 'If Taylor does not believe Blake,' the insider claimed. 'She will be the smoking gun in this case.'

That last line leads me to believe it's not likely from someone in Blake or Taylor's camps. Blake's statements have all centred on the friendship being intact. Taylor's statements have reiterated that Taylor was not involved, therefore has nothing to contribute to the case, and wants to be removed from the narrative entirely, so it's unlikely she'd be considered a "smoking gun" imo. Also: JB's lawyer has already stated by this point that someone of Taylor's stature could be important to depose for the information they may hold, which will be repeated later on in other articles. Again, DM has sources in JB's camp, and from their very own strategy document one of their preferred tactics is to sow discord and use Blake's relationship with Taylor against them both, so make of that what you will.

Deadline - March 6, 2025

link to article

While this article doesn't have anything to do with Taylor directly, it's noteworthy to me because it addresses the conflict between Blake and JB's teams about what information should be protected in the case. According to the judge hearing it:

What’s going on between Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni is “a feud between PR firms.” [...] Building off the judge’s starting comment and obviously trying to avoid getting into the minutiae like much of this case has for better or worse, Lively and Reynolds’ attorney Meryl Conant Governski cut to the bottom line. “The parties in this case, on both sides, include people whose entire living is made off providing information to the press and content creators,” the Willkie Farr & Gallagher lawyer said in the hearing. “There are 100 million reasons for these parties to leak information because the PR value is greater than complying with the court’s orders.” Lead Baldoni lawyer Bryan Freeman rejected that premise today, as he has many times in previous filings and media appearances. “No one has any intent of harming Ms. Lively in any way” as to her allegations, the often-pugilistic litigator told the court. “My clients have a right to defend themselves … that is in no way abusing the victim.” In that vein, off the top of the hearing that lasted about 70 minutes, Judge Liman made it clear he was aware of how the Vision PR-represented Lively and the TAG- and RWA-represented Baldoni’s clash was playing out in the media, and accusations that parties on both sides were leaking to the press.

It does raise my eyebrows that, presumably in the interest of "fairness," Blake's own lawyers are implying that both sides have reason to want to leak to the press to win the PR war, thus justifying seeking what is essentially a gag order in the best interests of both parties.

Eventually the judge does partially grant Blake's request for certain disclosures that could "cause significant injury":

On Thursday, March 13, Judge Lewis J. Liman ruled that while certain confidential materials will remain protected, an “Attorneys’ Eyes Only” designation can only be applied if their disclosure is "highly likely to cause a significant business, commercial, financial or privacy injury." The decision follows Lively’s request for stricter safeguards to prevent private details from leaking to the media or circulating within Hollywood. The judge acknowledged the risk of sensitive information spreading through industry gossip, writing in his ruling. "And where confidential information is not disclosed to the media, it may spread by gossip and innuendo to those in the tight artistic community in a position to do harm to one or the other of the parties but in a manner that might not be readily and immediately detected."

(Source: People, March 13)

Daily Mail - March 12, 2025

link to article

In an article about Hugh Jackman being subpoenaed in the case, Taylor is mentioned regarding how she promoted Deadpool on her Instagram account, as did Hugh. The cross-promotion is one of the things that is cited as being why he is being subpoenaed, alleging he had direct knowledge of what was happening (re: the "Nicepool" character):

The source also pointed out that Jackman 'helped promote It Ends with Us' and that Reynolds appeared to include 'several not-so-subtle disses about Baldoni' in Deadpool & Wolverine, adding: 'It's unlikely Hugh wasn't aware of this.' 'Not only this, but Hugh helped promote It Ends with Us in the same way that Taylor did when they did their group shot for the cross-promo with Deadpool,' they continued. 'The timing of the premieres is also no coincidence.'

Page Six - March 12, 2025

link to article

Again, a Page Six "exclusive" is reader beware. It shares the same sentiment as more legitimate sources, though:

Taylor Swift is “not afraid” after Justin Baldoni’s lawyer said there’s a chance the singer could be deposed in the actor’s ongoing legal battle with her friend Blake Lively. A source exclusively tells Page Six that the pop superstar “is a strong woman and she’s not hiding from anything.” “Taylor is simply enjoying some alone time with Travis [Kelce] and being under the radar for a little bit,” the insider says.

(I will note that in other articles about Blake specifically, unrelated to Taylor's involvement, the "strong woman"/not hiding language was used about her. Perhaps a coincidence. Or not.)

Page Six - April 7, 2025

link to article

This is the first time we hear about Blake's feelings about the alleged rift:

Blake Lively has apologized to Taylor Swift for dragging the pop star into her ongoing legal battle with Justin Baldoni, a source exclusively tells Page Six. “It was important to Blake to be on good terms again with Taylor. It was never her intention to hurt Taylor or cause any harm to their friendship,” an insider explains. “Blake missed their friendship and she hopes they can put this whole thing behind them.” The source says that Swift “appreciated” Lively’s apology and “felt it was genuine and heartfelt.” “[Taylor] has no hard feelings and is ready to move forward,” the insider adds.

Daily Mail - April 23, 2025

link to article (note you'll need to use reader mode or other means to get past the paywall)

The Daily Mail breaks the news that Taylor is also expected to be subpoenaed for the case:

Now, a source has told the Daily Mail that Jackman and Swift – who has not been seen with her best pal Lively since being hauled into the mess – will most ‘definitely be served this week.’ [...] A source has claimed Jackman and Swift will most ‘definitely be served this week.’ ‘It could happen at any time,’ they told the Daily Mail

(Again: DM has direct sources in JB's camp.)

Entertainment Tonight - April 23, 2025

link to post

Taylor Swift and Hugh Jackman, Ryan Reynolds’ 'Deadpool & Wolverine' co-star, are both likely to be subpoenaed in the 'It Ends With Us' dispute.⁠ ⁠ While neither star has been served yet, a source tells ET that "Taylor does not want to be involved in Blake’s legal battle with Justin. She and Travis have been laying low, traveling, and enjoying some time off and quiet time together."⁠

PEOPLE - April 24, 2025

Two articles pertaining to the case were published on this day.

The first article of the day speculated that Taylor and Hugh Jackman may be subpoenaed for the case:

link to first article

"Anyone that had any knowledge of this situation will be subpoenaed, no matter of their celebrity status," the source says. However, another insider says Swift and Jackman are "not privy to anything going on," adding that claims they will be subpoenaed are "smoke and mirrors and trying to distract from the allegations against Baldoni."

The second article published later in the day on April 24 delved into the impact of the case on Blake and Taylor's relationship in (personal) detail.

It's notable that PEOPLE highlights in the title that this is an "exclusive source," indicating that this is almost certainly sourced from someone close to one of the parties involved. (And most likely from Blake's team given the context):

link to article

Swift “was really hurt,” a source tells PEOPLE, after being implicated in Lively’s ongoing legal battle with Justin Baldoni over behind-the-scenes conflict on their movie It Ends with Us. "Blake knew she and Taylor would come back from this at some point and that their friendship wasn’t done for good,” the insider says of the legal difficulties. “Taylor was really hurt by this situation, so she’s relieved they were able to recover from this and put it all behind them because it wasn’t something she took lightly,” they add.

(It's also notable to me that an article the following day is also highlighted as "exclusive," featuring an "exclusive interview" with Ryan. I'm not saying that Ryan was the source of the previous article, to be clear, but rather that would lead me to believe, personally, that they're part of the same round of publicity strategy re: People given the timing. In other words, they're all from the same source in Blake's camp. Especially given the volume of "happy" fluffy PR stories -- without mention of the case -- that PEOPLE publishes at the same time about the couple and their projects.)

Page Six - April 28, 2025

link to article

After social media users figure out Travis unfollowed Ryan Reynolds on Instagram the previous weekend, Page Six gets this off-the-record exclusive:

Travis Kelce is intentionally trying to distance himself from Blake Lively’s ongoing drama with Justin Baldoni. Page Six has exclusively learned that the Kansas City Chiefs tight end unfollowed Lively’s husband, Ryan Reynolds, on Instagram because of the “It Ends With Us” actress’s messy legal nightmare. [...] It is also unknown how Kelce’s girlfriend, Taylor Swift, feels about the unfollowing. Her reps could not be immediately reached for comment. However, it has been widely reported that the pop superstar, 35, is not as close with Lively as she once was.

Daily Mail - May 3, 2025

link to article

This is almost assuredly sourced by JB's team, given the confirmation that Taylor was issued a subpoena in the case and will be interviewed by JB's lawyer. Ultimately, the article mainly rehashes the case, but it does also detail that Travis is expected to be subpoenaed as well, along with Hugh Jackman.

As the Mail can exclusively reveal, the actress's best friend Taylor Swift – almost certainly the most powerful woman in showbusiness – has been dropped, centre-stage, into the whole unsalutary mess, and served with a subpoena by Baldoni's lawyers. After weeks of rumours that it was coming, the subpoena has been issued compelling Swift to submit to an interview by Baldoni's 'streetfighter' lawyer Bryan Freedman under oath – never a pleasant experience for anyone. Freedman is one of the most powerful and feared litigators in the entertainment industry. He has represented actors and celebrities including Kevin Spacey, accused of assault; Kate Beckinsale; Julia Roberts and Bella Thorne. A source said: 'Taylor Swift has now been subpoenaed. Some subpoenas are being sent this week, some depositions are in the process now of being scheduled. People often push back and say that they can't for various reasons, but you really cannot get out of it.' And that's not all: I can further reveal that Swift's boyfriend, the American football star Travis Kelce, will soon receive a subpoena of his own, as will Lively and Reynolds' friend, Wolverine star Hugh Jackman. [...] A little over a week ago, US magazine People – apparently briefed by pro-Lively sources – published a piece saying that the two women's friendship was back on track, much to Lively's 'relief' after a difficult period. 'Blake knew she and Taylor would come back from this at some point and that their friendship wasn't done for good,' the insider said. 'Taylor was really hurt by this situation, so she's relieved they were able to recover from this and put it all behind them because it wasn't something she took lightly.' Yet, embarrassingly, days later there came another almighty bombshell when Kelce stopped following Reynolds on Instagram. In a world where a thumbs up or down on social media speaks more words than People magazine could fit in a whole article, everyone was left in no doubt as to the real state of Lively and Swift's friendship. Swift does not, herself, follow anyone on Instagram, but Kelce following Reynolds was one outward sign of the close relationship between the couples – and now that's gone. At around the same time, Swift was a guest at their mutual friend Gigi Hadid's 30th birthday party in New York – and Blake Lively was nowhere to be seen, adding to the impression that she is now being shunned by Swift and her friendship group. Gossip columnist Rob Shuter said that the model 'had to pick between Taylor and Blake... and, ultimately, she picked Taylor'.

ETA May 9, 2025:

PEOPLE - May 8, 2025

link to article

Blake's lawyer issues a statement to People about the case. He does not directly mention Taylor by name, but this is the first forceful statement from Blake's team, on the record, alluding to her involvement and specifically about how JB's team is leading a fishing expedition in order to distract from its own defence:

Gottlieb argues that public conversation surrounding Lively and Baldoni's legal battle has strayed from the core of the case. “We think there have been a lot of distractions put up to deflect attention from the retaliation campaign that was launched against her,” he claims. “And we expect and hope that in discovery we'll have an opportunity to really focus on what we believe to be the core part of the case, which is that this retaliation campaign was launched against Ms. Lively for her having raised concerns about sexual harassment.” [...] Over the last few months, Baldoni's team has said they may subpoena major celebrities like Taylor Swift and Hugh Jackman. “It’s completely unclear what claims or defenses in the case any of these celebrities… have any relevance to at all,” Gottlieb says. “This is a case about what happened to Blake Lively when she raised claims of sexual harassment on the set. It’s not a case about how songs were chosen for the movie. It’s not a case about fictional Marvel characters in Deadpool movies.” “You have to ask the question, then, why are these people being subpoenaed?” he continues. “Do they have any actual relevance to the case at hand? You can't just go around subpoenaing people because they're famous and you think it will generate a bunch of headlines. And the federal courts don't tolerate that kind of behavior.”

JB's lawyer also responded to the statement in his own interview, claiming Blake started it by bringing her friends into the case:

Freedman went on to criticize Lively’s conduct and public positioning, accusing her of leveraging her celebrity network to shape the narrative. “Although obviously uncomfortable for the Lively parties, the truth is not a distraction. The truth has been clearly shown through unedited receipts, documents and real-life footage. More to come,” he says. “Blake was the one who brought her high-profile friends into this situation without concern for their own personal or public backlash. As the truth shows, she used her 'dragons' to manipulate Justin at every turn.”

ETA May 9, 2025:

TMZ - May 9, 2025

link to article

This is the only direct statement Taylor's team has made about the case, on the record, and it is also the strongest quote issued so far. (Note the "spokesperson" source.) Once again, it disavows her involvement in the case, and blasts JB's legal team for dragging her into it to sensationalize their own defence:

Taylor Swift is being dragged further into the Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni beef -- she just got hit with a subpoena in the case. Sources with direct knowledge tell TMZ ... Baldoni's attorney Bryan Freedman has now subpoenaed Taylor as a witness in the Lively-Baldoni legal war. Taylor's camp is blasting the subpoena, because they say she was minimally involved in the drama on the set of "It Ends With Us" … which sparked a nasty legal war between Blake and Justin. A spokesperson for Taylor tells TMZ … "Taylor Swift never set foot on the set of this movie, she was not involved in any casting or creative decisions, she did not score the film, she never saw an edit or made any notes on the film, she did not even see 'It Ends With Us' until weeks after its public release, and was traveling around the globe during 2023 and 2024 headlining the biggest tour in history." The rep adds … "The connection Taylor had to this film was permitting the use of one song, 'My Tears Ricochet.' Given that her involvement was licensing a song for the film, which 19 other artists also did, this document subpoena is designed to use Taylor Swift's name to draw public interest by creating tabloid clickbait instead of focusing on the facts of the case." As we reported, Justin claims Taylor was more involved than just licensing a song, he says she gave a thumbs up to his casting of Isabela Ferrer as young Lily Bloom.

The same official statement from Taylor's spokesperson (Tree) is also given to Entertainment Tonight and People. It was later shared in other places, like trade papers like Variety to tabloids like The Daily Mail, etc. Clearly it was a coordinated blitz on Taylor's team to make their stance exceptionally clear. (I'm not going to do a full sweep on who published and had it confirmed to them, you get the point.)

ETA May 11, 2025

PEOPLE - May 10, 2025

link to article

Blake's team reacts to JB's lawyer's statement earlier in the week suggesting (imo sarcastically) that tickets should be sold to the trial, owing to the idea that it's being tried in the court of public opinion. They once again invoke Taylor's name, blasting JB's team subpoenaing of her and bluster about "selling tickets" as a distraction from the serious nature of the sexual harassment claims:

Blake Lively's team slammed Justin Baldoni's lawyers' suggestion to sell tickets to her upcoming deposition for their It Ends With Us legal battle and for subpoenaing Taylor Swift. "Mr. Baldoni, Mr. Sarowitz, and team continue to turn a case of sexual harassment and retaliation into entertainment for the tabloids, going as far as suggesting that they sell tickets to a concert venue - Madison Square Garden - to witness Ms. Lively’s deposition, to subpoenaing Taylor Swift, a woman who has given a voice to millions all over the world," a rep for Lively, 37, said in a statement, referring to Baldoni and Wayfarer Studios co-founder Steve Sarowitz. "This is a very serious legal matter, not Barnum & Bailey’s Circus," the statement continued. "The defendants continue to publicly intimidate, bully, shame and attack women's rights and reputations. Including in the past month seeking to strike down for all, a powerful California victims' rights law, calling it 'unconstitutional,' " the rep added. "The disturbing actions by a billionaire, men who made their careers as 'female allies' and their team continue to show their true colors.”

***

The Rundown: A Tumblrina's Thoughts

I don't want to delve too deeply into it, because there are so many heightened emotions around this for a lot of reasons.

I've said this many times, but I think it bears repeating: the Taylor issue in the media is separate from Blake's very valid legal case. I see this as being three separate issues: Blake's case about sexual harassment, Baldoni's case about creative differences and extortion, and Taylor's reaction to being (unfairly) involved. They're all intertwined, of course, but the legal issues are very obviously separate from Taylor's.

What I'm trying to say is that you can have feelings about how Taylor is being used, while still having different feelings about the very real case at play. Unfortunately, going by public statements and actions, Taylor and Blake's friendship seems to be collateral in what is shaping up to be a nasty, messy legal fight.

(Call me a cupcake, but yes, I absolutely believe Taylor's version of events. One, because I'm her fan first and foremost, so I give her the benefit of the doubt. Two, because even though JB's team implied her presence pressured him, if he actually felt that she was involved, she would have been named in the lawsuit IMO. It's clear she's just a ploy to get at Blake. And three, not to fly too close to the sun, but if you look at the time frame of when the "meeting" happened... I think you can draw your own conclusions about what might have been going on. At the very least, Taylor had bigger fish to fry.)

My thoughts on it all aren't really important, but if I had to draw a conclusion around it, it's that Taylor is being used (perhaps both unintentionally and deliberately) by both Blake and JB's sides to defend themselves-- and that must feel really, really shitty for someone who doesn't have any involvement in the case. JB dragging her into the case is in zero way surprising as a media tactic, and is the best way he can keep his side of the story out there with assured headlines. (Again: it's from his publicist's own mouth via the planning document.) Blake's response seems innocuous at first glance, but when taking in the fulsome view of the media response, it does unfortunately feel like leaning on Taylor's image to defend her own. Everything is fine! Well, everything's not fine, but we worked it out. Well, we worked it out and Taylor is still sensitive about it. Actually, Taylor's still really upset.

The thing that is abundantly clear is that Taylor's team persistently tried to steer the narrative away from the case, underscoring her lack of involvement at all beyond being Blake's friend and pivoting repeatedly to what she wanted to convey: Taylor is on break, Taylor is leading a private life right now and focused on her family, Taylor doesn't want anyone using her, Taylor doesn't know anything. It was to be expected that JB's team would ignore that, but I presume it was particularly hurtful that Blake's team ignored it as well. That is just me speculating, but there are dots dotting throughout the evolution of the statements. Taylor's request for privacy seems to have fallen on deaf ears, particularly by people who should know better.

One thing that jumped out at me is that the narrative around Taylor's involvement mostly died out after the initial frenzy after JB's suit was filed in January, particularly after the February 6 blitz of, "Taylor feels used and she needs time to cool off, but they'll work it out." It seemed to have done the trick, beyond a few whispers here and there about subpoenas (again, mostly from Daily Mail, which comes from JB's camp). However, the stories appearing in April about the rift between Taylor and Blake over the case and how they mended their friendship and are fine now seem to have stirred the pot yet again, especially since, candidly, it seems like they came directly from Blake's team. (Not to be a conspiracy theorist... But that also coincided in an uptick in publicity for Blake's new movie, along with obviously JB's subpoenas.)

I'd imagine it must have been especially frustrating to have a friend bring it up again in the press, when you'd made it clear that your stance was to leave you out of it and worked so hard to stress that to the press and to mostly successful results. With that context, it's not surprising Taylor's team was quick to rebuke those statements, even through non-traditional methods.

This is me putting on yet another speculative hat, but having read press about the case in general throughout this period, and not just the Taylor articles, another thing that struck me is that once JB filed his suit and his lawyer started talking about deposing celebrities, and specifically Taylor, there wasn't a single statement that I can find by Blake's team denouncing that effort as a fishing expedition when the lawsuits were filed. To me, the most natural response to JB's claims by her PR and legal teams would have been, "This is a desperate attempt by Baldoni and his team to distract the public from the very serious allegations he is facing by Blake and the other women who worked with him on the movie, because he knows his own claims are baseless." Nothing of the sort came out until after the news of the subpoenas hit at the end of April.

It obviously wouldn't have stopped JB's team from doing whatever they wanted, but it would make Blake's team's position clear about where they stand regarding her friends and collaborators being dragged into the case, and shifted the narrative back to the alleged victims in the case. However, her team's silence on that front I think must feel especially worrisome to some of said friends and collaborators (like Taylor), who, I would wonder, might feel like they're being hung out to dry a little.

(Again, candidly: not to delve into the legal case, but having read both the filings and the press outside of the Taylor of it all, I suspect they didn't issue a blanket denouncement of the depositions because at the time, Blake's team was trying to subpoena Baldoni's phone records. Glass houses etc. I also have other Thoughts about the matter. But. Well. It diverges from the Taylor of it all and nobody here cares lol.)

This is a little outside of the Taylor of it all, but taking a macro look at everything between December and now, it seems like this is ultimately a battle of PR strategies. Which, duh. But what I mean by that is JB's team is waging modern social media warfare, using all means to muddy public opinion, and again, this is from his team's own words. Troll farms, fake or "influential" accounts to offer counter-narratives, podcasts, his team speaking directly to the press, etc. The goal is to blanket the field. On the other hand, Blake's team seems to be following a traditional PR effort, relying on reputable outlets like friendly magazines (PEOPLE) and talk shows, and putting out feel-good stories to counter the negative press. E.g., there are SO many follow-up stories to every It Ends With Us story about seeing Hugh's play (no mention of the case), cute stories she tells about her kids on talk shows, her and Ryan showing up at x event, press about their new movies, awards, etc. They're blanketing the field in another way.

Meanwhile, Taylor is caught in the middle, when all she wants to do is: be radio silent and live her life. So on the one hand, she's got the attack dogs on JB's side pulling her in to their narrative, and on the other she's got the positive PR blitz on Blake's low-key pulling her in too. And what's even worse, maybe even spreading an agenda that isn't truthful to her own experience, and banking on her silence as tacit support or approval.

From Taylor's PR standpoint, this is kind of a fascinating exercise to me too, because you can see the nuance in her own team's strategy. If I had to describe it, it's that it uses its most friendly outlet, ET, as the pulpit, and the others as the *whispers* to fill in the blanks. By that I mean, it uses their most trusted source (and again: we as fans all know why it is) to relay their high-level, top-line messages: Taylor does not want to be involved, Taylor is focused on her private life out of the spotlight, Taylor has no knowledge of the situation. Those are the key messages that get repeated nearly every time it makes a statement to ET. This is the party line, and what Taylor's unofficial official statement is.

But then, her team also fights fire with fire by dropping nuggets in all the other outlets, even the less-reputable ones, and IMO that is by design. Firstly, because it sends messages across different audiences (who aren't all consuming everything Taylor related like we are as fans), and secondly, and perhaps more pointedly, to address the other parties' publicists in their own preferred outlets. There's also perhaps an added layer of plausible deniability, because sources like TMZ or Daily Mail or Page Six aren't necessarily reliable when it comes to Taylor so you could in theory deny where the info is coming from, but all it takes is looking at the spirit and the wording of the statements to know where the likely origin is.

So while Taylor isn't going to give an exclusive to ET saying she felt manipulated by Blake and is taking a step back from her to process the hurt she feels, giving an even more off-the-record account to a place like TMZ, where there are already questions of bias and salaciousness, allows her to get her story out there and beat them at their own game. Sometimes you have to roll in the mud a little, which is why it seems like these seedier tabloids got some of the juiciest stuff to paint a broader picture of what was actually happening while Taylor was publicly silent. Maybe another analogy is, um, ET is Khaleesi and the other tabloids are the dragons?

And a note about Page Six: I know a lot of people may have found it strange that that tabloid, of all places, got the confirmation that Travis unfollowed Ryan on purpose, but in reading all this, it actually makes perfect sense. For one thing, confirming to a smaller outlet like this avoids the media storm it would have been if it had been an official statement or "sources tell" quote to ET or PEOPLE. But for another: Page Six is extremely Blake and Ryan-friendly these days. (Again, which surprises me, because of the outlet's connection to JB's publicist, but things may have changed idk.) Like, it seems like it's second only to PEOPLE in positive press for the couple. (Meaning: they are being fed stories by their PR team.) So, using B&R's own preferred source to confirm an action that indicates that their spin of the situation with Taylor is not accurate is kind of ballsy, and also very pointed. It's one step away from saying, "Actually, that's not true, Ellen Blake."

If I can make one more comment about it all, it's that I think Blake's team is worrying about and reacting to the short-term effects of JB's bad press (e.g. the depositions) instead of the long game of her and Ryan's broader reputations and the case itself. And if I could speculate, Taylor would be someone who knew better than anyone about the value of staying silent about a personal issue unless needed to play the long game of maintaining your reputation, and knowing what fights are worth fighting and what are just mud-slinging. (And perhaps that advice and experience might have fallen on deaf ears itself.) I have more thoughts about the Blake of it all and even the JB of it all, but it's a separate issue from this specific post about Taylor.

This was entirely too long, and there isn't much point to it, but like I said, I'm utterly fascinated by the ways in which PR is used in a professional capacity, and how many different factors are in play for a single issue, especially when it starts turning into crisis management. And to be clear, it isn't a crisis on Taylor's end, but Blake's crisis management is affecting Taylor's personal life, and it's a tangled web to weave.

And if you made it this far... Cheers, friend! 🥂

#blake case #wavesoutbeingtossed: the anthology #<- because this is a double album's worth of writing lmao #writing letters addressed to the fire #waves makes waves about discourse

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sailorsoons · 29 days ago

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PAIRING: Alpha!Seungcheol x Omega! f.reader

SUMMARY: A heatwave in your city makes dealing with your hormones more difficult than usual. Getting locked in a lobby at work for an hour with an alpha makes it ten times worse. Thankfully, Seungcheol is there to help you - and maybe a little more.

WC: 18,512

AU: Omegaverse, Coworkers to Lovers

GENRE: Smut, A bit of Fluff, the barest hint of angst

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

TEASER WARNINGS: Mix of traditional and nontraditional Omegaverse dynamics in terms of heat cycles, social statuses, and body chemistry but this fic doesn’t really dip into it very heavily - including no knotting or any of the traditional lore. There are brief mentions of social discourse and discrimination across all three subgenders. Reader has some internal back and forth and moments of feeling embarrassed and frustrated with her body and hormonal fluctuations. Some internal stresses/anxieties on reader’s part about what comes after with Seungcheol. Seungcheol is a touch possessive in parts. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content including very gratutious smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting, a lot of spit/slick/fluids mentions, nipple play, vaginal fingering, lots of praise (use of good/good girl/baby often), not explicit dom/sub dynamics but more alpha/omega dynamics, no use of a condom as in - I just never wrote one in and they never talk about it tbh I just forgot lol - reader experiences some highs and lows through her heat emotionally… I think that’s mostly it. Please tell me if I forgot anything.

A/N: I don’t know how I ended up writing so much of this, but here we are. Reader’s struggles as an omega are inspired directly by my struggles with PCOS, especially living in a very hot climate and constantly having fluctuating hormones and just having to exist!!! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it.

A/N 2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for beta reading this - I love u thank u hehe.

MASTERLIST | ASK | NOW PLAYING: BAMBI BY BAEKHYUN

SWEAT TRICKLES DOWN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK AND THIGHS. Irritated, you wipe at the back of your neck for what feels like the hundredth time before pulling at the collar of your shirt, fanning it in hopes of cooling the rest of your body off. It’s unseasonably hot, a heat wave sweeping through the city and turning your office cubicle into a toaster oven.

The small fan on your desk whirs pitifully, barely offering any sort of respite. Adjusting in your seat does nothing but remind you how uncomfortable you are, the scratchy grain of the chair digging into the back of your sweating thighs, the underwire of your bra digging into your ribs, the heat rash forming where your underwear digs into the creases of your hips.

Unbearable.

A message pings on your computer and you open it, growling in irritation as you see a message from Wonwoo in the cubicle behind you.

Jeon Wonwoo: Ever heard of suppressants, diva?

You: IT’S FUCKING HOT IN HERE

You: Tell this company to BUY SOME FUCKING AIRCONDITIONERS

Jeon Wonwoo: Irritable… sweaty… irrational…

You grab the nearest pen and whip around in your chair, launching it at the back of his head. It hits with a satisfying thwack. He flinches, cursing as his hand flies up to rub the spot where you nailed him. Wonwoo turns in his seat, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder.

You meet his glare with a stuck-out tongue and a very deliberate middle finger before turning back to your screen, face flushed, partially from the heat, partially from embarrassment.

He doesn’t get it. You know he’s just teasing, but it still stings. That old, familiar insecurity curls in your gut at his jest, no matter its innocence. Being an omega is hard enough. You’ve spent years unlearning shame, of trying to accept this part of yourself you never asked for. And you’ve gotten pretty far with that.

But then something as simple as a heatwave hits, the rise in temperature turning your body traitorous, unable to accommodate for a little bit of humid air and heat.

Of course, Wonwoo doesn’t understand - can’t conceptualize the level of difficulty it is to maintain a baseline for you. Betas don’t have to deal with this kind of hormonal chaos. Sure, they’ve got their own issues - media erasure, medical neglect, in general being left out - but it’s not the same. Not when your body actively works against you, not when your biology fights you.

You sigh. There’s no point in going down the rabbit hole and comparing omegas and betas. You��ve traveled that road since your subgender presented itself in your freshman year of college. Comparison is the thief of joy, but it’s also an endless torture device.

Your thighs rub together uncomfortably when you get up. You swipe your water bottle, unscrewing the cap as you duck out of your cubicle, head down and steps fast. You’re pretty sure Wonwoo is attuned to your scent more than others, having been one of your closest friends and cubicle-neighbor for the better part of five years. But still, you’re nervous about it, hand snaking up to touch the translucent patch on the side of your neck, meant to dampen the smell from your glands.

No one pays you much mind. You breathe a sigh of relief to find the break room empty. You make a beeline to the water cooler in the corner, sliding the water bottle under it and pressing the tap. As it fills, the air conditioning kicks on, the vent right above you.

Cool air hits the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter, a shiver of relief slithering through you. For a moment, you lose yourself, letting the cool wick away the sticky sweat, the first time you’ve felt a little relief all day. A small sound escapes your mouth, half whimper and half plea.

Someone clears their throat and you flinch, losing your grip on the water bottle. It crashes to the ground, water splashing up your legs but more importantly, all over the floor. You squeak in panic, diving to pick it up in an attempt to stop the outflow of water.

Hands dripping, you pivot on your heel, scanning for paper towels only to find them being offered. You blink in surprise, body going rigid as you become acutely aware of who is offering them.

Choi Seungcheol watches you with quiet concern, dark eyes steady behind his glasses. He keeps a respectful distance, arms extended with a roll of paper towels, waiting for you to take them. But you don’t move. Your pulse pounds in your neck as your gaze drops from his face to his hands, large and patient.

He has pretty hands, you think absently, staring a beat too long.

For a moment, all you can hear is the roar of blood in your ears. Then, he steps forward without a word, crouching down to wipe the water pooling around your feet. You jerk, startled, a sharp sound of protest escaping you as you drop down and snatch more paper towels from his hands. Apologies tumble out, disjointed and breathless, your thoughts scattered.

He doesn’t back away. Instead, he methodically dabs at the wet tile while trying to avoid soaking himself in the process. His proximity is overwhelming, his spicy scent nearly knocking you over. You grit your teeth and clench your jaw, irritated. He’s not supposed to affect you like this - never has before.

Seungcheol is always mild. Unassuming. He’s worked here as long as you have, one of the few alphas on your floor, and one of the most reserved. He keeps to his office, always dimly lit, always quiet. He greets you politely. Never lingers.

It surprised you when you first met him. Seungcheol looks like the type of alpha who is the opposite of quiet and shy. There’s a gravitas to him that you haven’t quite figured out and a body made to ruin. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a voice deep enough to rattle through your spine even on your best days.

Yet somehow, he’s never once made a pass on a single omega at work.

Which, he shouldn’t. You respect that about him, which feels ridiculous. You shouldn’t have to be flattered by the bare minimum of respect, shouldn’t need to be surprised when an alpha is able to be normal. To treat you like a human being.

You mumble a quiet thanks, focusing on the mess. It’s the only thing tethering you right now. It shouldn’t feel this intense, but the goddamn heat is getting to you. It’s baking you from the inside out, turning your cube walls suffocating. It makes you tired. Irritable. Prone to throwing pens at Wonwoo’s head.

“Thanks,” you mutter when you stand. You toss the soggy paper towels into the bin, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry again.”

“No need to apologize. I’m sorry I startled you.”

Seungcheol stands slowly. You don’t move, watching the way he wipes his damp hands across his slacks. You hate that you notice how the fabric pulls over his thighs. As soon as you have the thought, you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but him, afraid that he’ll see the embarrassment or the way your body reacts without your permission.

“It’s been a long week,” Seungcheol offers, voice soft. “You alright? I know Jeonghan had you working on that insane report.”

You swallow past the dry patch in your throat. “All good. Just tired. It’ll probably keep me here forever, but what can you do?”

“Mhmm. Don’t forget it’s Friday - cleaning locks the office and will trap you inside.”

“Sounds like you’re intimately familiar.”

His smile is soft, cheeks flushed. “Cannot confirm or deny.”

“I see.” You gesture to the watery floor. “Thank you, again. And sorry for being a bit clumsy.”

“No problem.”

You slide away from him, hoping that he can’t tell that you’re leaning, trying to avoid catching his scent again. He doesn’t seem to notice - or has the decency not to make it obvious - and you slip away from the break room, all but running to your cube.

Inside your little haven, you rip open one of your drawers, grabbing a pheromone damp nasal spray. You all but shove it up your cranium, putting it as far up your nasal passage as you can manage before squeezing and shooting a blast of medical grade dampener up your nose, inhaling sharply.

It helps a little, settling your nerves and erasing the lingering scent of Seungcheol. You breathe out a sigh, calm and collected. Carefully and quickly, you peel the suppressant patch off your neck and swap it for a new one. It tingles when you apply it, the microneedles that embed into the skin to deliver suppressant a cool sensation at first.

When you settle, you feel much better. It isn’t until you turn to start knocking out the rest of your report that you realize you never refilled your water bottle after dropping it, making you lean back on your desk and groan.

Working for Yoon Jeonghan comes with its challenges. He's incredibly sharp and a natural leader, but he tends to be a bit forgetful and brings a touch of chaos wherever he goes. Jeonghan is the reason you’d started working at this company, though, admiring that there was an omega in charge, defying the long-standing social norms that omegas could not lead.

It’s a silly stereotype, but you’ve been fighting stereotypes your entire life, unlearning your own and reminding yourself that there are still inherent biases to unlearn.

Like right now, when you're mentally cursing Jeonghan for tossing a last-minute report your way, even though he had multiple reminders in his inbox and just forgot he'd opened them. You only blame him a little. Work’s been nonstop, keeping him up at all hours, and if there’s one thing that truly makes Jeonghan unbearable, it’s sleep deprivation.

Jeonghan doesn’t have an assistant, but you’re the closest thing to it, one of the few people in the office he trusts to get things done. So when he’s on vacation and starts spamming your email that he dropped the ball, it’s on you to cover for him, like he’s done for you in the past.

The consequence of competency, he’d told you over the phone, the sound of the ocean in the background. I’m sorry, I owe you, please don’t quit.

You weren’t going to quit. Despite your irritation, you like working for Jeonghan, and despite the unbearable heat burning in your cubicle, you like being able to focus on pulling and building reports, inputting data into a spreadsheet and setting pivot tables and charts.

It makes you forget about the world for a little bit, including the oppressive office air and the way that the building’s air conditioner barely keeps up with the raging temperatures outside. Makes you forget about the incident in the breakroom, and about everything else, including the passage of time.

Above you, the lights go out. You flinch, looking up in surprise. Rubbing your eyes, you blink until your computer screen comes back into focus, looking at the time. You groan. It’s past seven, far later than you meant to stay at work. But you’re done with the report, dragging the attachment to your email to fire it off to Jeonghan with a less than happy emoji pasted in the body of the email.

Exhaustion weighs you down when you stand. Your joints pop and everything feels hot and itchy again, all of your irritations flooding back to pester you now that you’re not locked in on your work. You flip off the fan, lamp and computer at your desk. Immediately without air circulation, your cube is sweltering, the dress sticking to you, fabric itchy and clinging to your skin.

A sudden wave of dizziness makes the room tilt around you. You steady yourself with deep, measured breaths, trying to stay grounded. A spike in temperature is normal. You can deal with it. It’s manageable. Sure, the heat triggers a surge of estriolase, the hormone that kicks in during Stage 1 of an omega’s heat cycle. And sure, it leaves you flushed, restless, skin prickling with irritation, and-

“You’re still here?”

You shriek, whirling around, heart hammering as your hand flies to your chest in terror. Seungcheol takes a cautious step back into the hallway, hands lifted in surrender, quiet concern etched into his features. For a moment, the air between you is thick with silence, broken only by your uneven breathing, still reeling from the rush of epinephrine and cortisol.

Being an omega means constantly walking a tightrope of hormones. One shift sets off another, like dominoes toppling. Fear bumps into instinct, instinct stirs something deeper, until your body is a storm of tangled biochemistry.

Now, your body is caught in a storm of fear, annoyance, embarrassment and interest, each one fighting for dominance. You swallow thickly and lean off your desk, ignoring the way your body flashes between hot and cold, fear and something else.

“Just finished Jeonghan’s report.”

“Ah.”

Something passes his face. It’s unreadable, but he’s focused. Your skin prickles under the heavy weight of his stare, watching as his mouth tightens at the corner.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes. His gaze flickers briefly, so fast that you’re not sure you track the movement correctly, but you swear it drops to the patch on your neck, dampening your scent. His jaw flexes once before he offers you a tight smile, gesturing.

“Mind if I walk you out? It’s late.”

Your heart hammers. “Sure.”

You’ve walked out of work with Seungcheol before. He offers to walk anyone out when it’s after hours, even if he himself isn’t leaving yet. It has nothing to do with your subgender and everything to do with him being kind, a sort of stoic office guardian.

Grabbing the rest of your things, you follow Seungcheol in silence. The building is quiet, both of you the only people still around on a weekend. The lack of sound amplifies everything else: the sound of your own quickened breathing, the warmth pulsing under your skin, the spicy scent of Seungcheol as he steps onto the elevator, lingering at the threshold to hold the door open for you.

You murmur a thank you as you pass by him. You can’t help the shiver that snakes through you as you pass. You clench your fists, angry and willing yourself to calm down. This has never happened around Seungcheol, and you blame the fucking weather for the way your body overrides you now.

The forty five seconds spent in the elevator are borderline hell. Neither of you says anything. You’ve pressed yourself in the corner, trying to remain nonchalant, like your entire world isn’t spinning, like there isn’t a dull ache in the pit of your stomach, like there isn’t saliva pooling at the back of your tongue.

Seungcheol smells warm. Grounding. Something that lingers, sharp and clean with a bit of a bite. You breathe in, trying to figure it out. Perhaps bergamot and cardamom, spice touched by sweetness, a hint of earth.

The elevator dings and Seungcheol is halfway through the lobby before you realize it. You push off the elevator wall after him, steps stilted and uneven. It’s even hotter in the tiny lobby of your office building, making a bead of sweat trail down the back of your neck. You adjust your dress, licking your lips in an attempt to relieve the hot flash threatening you.

Seungcheol pushes on the glass doors at the front, but they don’t budge. Both of you stand and stare for a second before he curses low under his breath, voice like gravel. You ignore what your stomach does at the sound of it as he turns to look at you, expression wary.

“Remember what I said in the break room?” You definitely remember the break room, but not anything he said. “The cleaners come on Friday evenings and they lock the doors.”

“Oh.”

Seunghecol walks back to the elevator and swipes his badge at the scanner and presses the button. The metal doors do not open again, and the button doesn’t light up. He curses again, pinching the bridge of his nose right beneath his glasses.

“Badges don’t work after hours.”

“They don’t?”

“No. It’s not the first time I’ve been stuck here, unfortunately.” He adjusts the strap on his bag and pulls a cellphone from his pocket. “Thankfully I have security’s number saved for exactly that reason.”

Seungcheol’s words do little to bring you relief. He paces a few steps away from you, dialing a number on the phone. He holds the phone to his ear, waiting for security to pick up. His free hand is stuffed into the pocket of his slacks, thumb tapping idly. You stand a few feet away, arms crossed, trying to focus on the sterile, white glow of the lobby lights instead of the way your skin feels like it’s humming.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds loud, making you twitch. “Yes, I’m locked in the lobby again.” He glances at you. “I’m with another coworker as well. The badge isn’t working to get us back up. Can you come let us out?”

You barely register his words. A flush is working its way up from your stomach to your chest, your chest to your shoulders, shoulder to elbows. You feel it unfurl, the slow-burning petals of a flower blooming. The air feels thick and heavy, almost damp, and no amount of focused breathing seems to help with the pulse you feel throbbing in your neck.

Seungcheol’s voice momentarily pulls you from your daze. “They’re sending someone from central security. Might take about an hour, though. They were in the middle of a shift rotation.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Alright.”

“Are you alright?” Seungcheol asks quietly, eyes fixated on you.

You open your mouth to say yes, but the word dies in your throat. Because you’re not. Not really. There’s a heat curling deep in your belly now, slow and insistent, and your clothes feel too tight, your skin too sensitive. You press your palm against the marble wall behind you, trying to ground yourself with the coolness of the stone.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding and giving him a thumbs up.

You’re anything but. It hits you slowly, but when it does, it locks into place with terrifying clarity: the dizziness, the temperature spikes, the way everything around you sounds sharper, smells sharper, the bergamot and cardamom.

Your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of heat, triggered by the unbearable temperature spike across the city and the unbearable proximity of the alpha standing across the lobby from you.

You shift your weight, arms tightening around yourself, every nerve ending suddenly too aware of Seungcheol’s presence. He’s not even close, but you can feel him. Or maybe it’s just your scent receptors going haywire, both just as likely.

“You’re flushed,” he says after a moment, eyes not quite meeting yours now. “You sure you’re not getting sick?”

“No,” you say too quickly. “I don’t think it’s that.”

Seungcheol’s brows pull together, not believing you but not sure what to make of it. He shifts his weight, gaze scanning you, trying to figure you out. You refuse to meet his eyes, looking up at the lobby lights that are too bright, making you squint. But you can feel him watching you, his gaze intense.

“You look uncomfortable.” He shifts a little further from you. “I apologize if-”

“It’s not you!” You blurt, a little forceful. “It’s just hot in here. It’s… hard on me.”

When he doesn’t answer, you dare a look at him. Seungcheol tilts his head slightly, like he doesn’t believe you but won’t push it. He nods, leaning against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes track the way his biceps flex, the way his shirt compresses across his chest and your mouth goes dry.

He studies you carefully now, eyes narrowing just slightly—not in suspicion, but understanding. Something settles in his expression, the faintest flicker of recognition behind his eyes. Fuck. Fuck. He knows. He knows and the embarrassment is so overwhelming you nearly fold over and start crying.

Still, he doesn't call you out. Doesn’t voice what you’re sure he knows, what his instincts are telling him. Doesn’t corner you with it.

Instead, he says, “Tell me something you enjoy.”

“What?”

He watches you, eyes soft. “Anything. To pass time. I only know the basics about you. Tell me something you’re passionate about.”

Something you're passionate about? A million things run through your mind. You grab the first thing you can think of, a single subject that you’re well-versed in.

“There’s a theory that the Tyrannosaurus Rex didn’t roar.”

He looks confused. “The dinosaur?”

“Yes. Like you know in the movie how they… rahhh.” You imitate the noise, immediately wanting to smack yourself for the ridiculousness of it. He presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. He nods and gestures for you to continue, dark eyes focused only on you. “So it’s a total myth. Scientists think they made way lower sounds, like… you know when crocodiles do that weird purr?”

“Crocodile purr?”

“Yeah you know when they…” You hunch your shoulders. “Do that weird water rumble thing.”

“I think I follow.”

You nod rapidly, grateful for the distraction even as your heart beats way too fast. “Yeah, like a subsonic hum. They think it was more intimidating that way. A sound that could vibrate through the chest cavity of its prey. Honestly, it’s kind of genius.”

He watches you with quiet amusement, one brow raised but not mocking. “I didn’t know you were into dinosaurs.”

“I was obsessed as a kid,” you admit, shrugging, eyes still fixed on the security panel like it’ll spark to life if you ignore it long enough. “Used to correct people all the time. I was that kid. I got in trouble once for lecturing my cousin while playing with dinosaurs because Stegosaurus and a T. rex never existed at the same time. They lived millions of years apart! And he was trying to tell me they were best friends.” You scoff. “As if.”

You hear a soft chuckle across the lobby and you look up to meet his face. Your pulse flutters again, reminding you why Seungcheol asked you to distract yourself in the first place.

As though he can sense where your thoughts are going, Seungcheol asks, “So are you one of those people who thinks the Jurassic Park raptors were too big?”

You huff, a flare of irritation licking through you. “Well yeah. They were too big, thank you for asking. Plus, Alan Grant pointed out in the first movie that they were the size of turkeys, and then they get to Isla Nublar and they’re fucking six feet tall! And they were supposed to have feathers!”

“Not very intimidating.”

“I mean, I feel like a giant bird of prey is pretty intimidating.”

Seungcheol grins and you feel another shiver threaten to pulse through you. His grin is beautiful, turning his face from intimidating to soft in seconds. “I’m never going to be able to take them seriously again, I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s quiet again. The tension from earlier hasn’t disappeared, but something in the air feels different. Sweat fills the creases behind your knees, beads on the small of your back, gathers on your thighs. Your rambling had made you forget about it all for a moment, but now it’s back, the awareness of the way your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of your heat.

If security gets here soon, you’ll be okay. It’s the lightest phase of the cycle, manageable with some effort and focus. But it’s unpredictable. Sometimes it lingers, sometimes it crashes into the next stage without warning. And while your body usually keeps a steady three-month rhythm, outside stimuli can trigger an early onset.

Like being trapped in an overheated lobby with an alpha just a few yards away. One who’s quiet, watching, aware.

Still, it’s not unmanageable. You’ve handled worse. If you can get home in time, the meds waiting in your cabinet will ease you through the worst of it, keep you from slipping into second and third stage alone, unprepared.

If not…

No, you can’t think about that. If you stray too far to the second stage of your cycle before getting home, your options are limited and grim.

You don’t like any of them.

You shift your stance again, ankles crossing and uncrossing, arms hugging your waist like that might hold everything in place. But it’s not helping anymore. Your skin feels too tight, like it doesn’t fit right on your body. The heat is building now, no longer a low thrum, but a steady pulse radiating from your core, licking up your spine and sinking into your limbs. Your breaths come shorter, faster, and there’s a dull ache beginning in your lower belly, something deep and hormonal and utterly beyond your control.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, causing you to look at him. His face is soft. Concerned. “You still with me?”

The way he says it, soft and gentle, makes things worse. Makes you want to whine and cross the lobby floor to him, to let him pull you in tight and tell you it’ll be okay. To comfort you. The desire is so bad that you realize you’re much farther into Stage 1 than you thought.

Panic starts to nip at your heels. You’re unsure what to do. There’s nothing on you besides your nasal spray and your patches to help you out, but those aren’t what you need. Your patches protect others from your scent and the nasal spray protects you from others - from Seungcheol.

You try to answer, but your voice catches in your throat, coming out thin and shaky. “I’m okay.”

“Are you in prodrome?” he asks quietly, voice pitched low and careful.

You flinch when he finally says it out loud, letting the acknowledgement ring in the lobby. You close your eyes for a moment, your silence an answer in itself.

Seungcheol sighs and pulls his phone back out of his pocket, dialing as he lifts it to his ear. “Yeah, I know. Look, you need to expedite. My colleague needs medical assistance and we’re still locked in the lobby. No… no.” Seungcheol glances at you. “She’s experiencing prodrome. Can you please expedite? Yes. Thank you.”

He hangs up and turns back to you, stepping slowly so he doesn’t overwhelm, arms loose at his sides in a show of calm. “They’re sending someone now. Shouldn’t be long.”

You nod, but your breathing is uneven, shallow now. You can feel the sweat dripping down your spine, the pressure behind your eyes. Everything smells too sharp, too thick. Especially him. Spice and warmth and safety. It’s awful.

Seungcheol stays where he is, a careful distance between you, but his voice is steady when he says, “Tell me what you need. What I can do to help.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean it. If you need space, I’ll back off. If you need something cold, we’ll figure it out. Just don’t… don’t try to pretend this isn’t happening. Let me help you.”

The kindness in his voice cracks something in your chest. No judgment, no pressure, just him, steady and solid, offering help while your body betrays you one symptom at a time.

You swallow hard. “I just need to get out. I just need to make it home before it gets worse.”

Seungcheol nods, no hesitation. “Then we’ll get you home. I promise.”

Time moves like molasses. The silence between you thickens. You give up on standing, sitting on the cool tile floor. It only offers momentary respite until you’re panting again, struggling to maintain your grip on yourself.

It’s not working. Your entire body is pulsing, tingling, burning in waves that crest and fall without rhythm. Your skin itches with hypersensitivity, every shift of your clothes unbearable, your breath slow and ragged. It feels like you’re melting, burning up from the forge in your chest.

You can feel Seungcheol watching you from his assigned corner. He says nothing, keeping a respectful distance. You steal a glance at him through bleary eyes. He’s just leaning against the wall, hands clenched and jaw tight. He’s doing his best to appear calm, but you see signs of irritation. His throat works and your eyes linger on the way his Adam's apple bobs for too long. You think about sinking your teeth into his neck, tasting him-

His scent, normally warm and grounded, spikes. You sense the shift and it makes you squirm, pressing yourself further into the wall. You look away from him, hiding your face in your shoulder while you squeeze your eyes shut as another wave of cramping crashes into you.

Seungcheol’s irritation is sharp. Shame floods you, thick and fast. Of course he’s annoyed. Today has gone from bad to worse. He’s now stuck in a lobby with an omega in prodrome, a liability that he now has to be responsible for, and you’re barely holding it together, shaking like a live wire. You’re stuck, and he’s stuck with you, and-

The lobby doors beep and hiss open. You don’t even lift your head. Don’t even hear the first few words from the guards. You only feel cool night air and the sudden shift in pressure, making you keen and melt into the tile.

Seungcheol appears at your side, his scent fading from acrid to soothing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, crouching down to your level. It’s the closest he’s been to you all day. You feel the heat of him, the nearness overwhelming. “They’re here. We can go.”

You don’t move. The thought of moving suddenly seems like an insurmountable task. Your world is tilting, your ears ringing. Your limbs feel detached from your brain and your body is locked, curled in on itself. Heat prickles across your skin like static.

Worst of all, you’re starting to panic. Fear sets in, stabbing deep. You don’t know how to get up and take the train home. Don’t know how to get yourself up the stairs and into your apartment. To the cabinet to take a suppressant. To the fridge for water.

Seungcheol’s voice sharpens. “Hey. Look at me.”

It’s a command. You blink up at him, barely able to focus. Something flashes behind his eyes and he’s on the phone again. “Hi, I need emergency assistance for an omega. She’s in heat prodrome and she’s deteriorating fast. No, she’s conscious. She’s overheating, but having trouble standing and struggling to focus. I have no idea what to do.”

You barely hear the voice on the other end of the line, but Seungcheol does. His expression shifts, each word they say tightening his jaw.

“She’s a coworker - we were locked in a lobby at work but I can take her to an omega hospital.” You whimper and shake your head vehemently, whining. He softens. “They said they can give you a heat inhibitor on-site.”

“No,” you pant. “It hurts.”

He nods. “I can’t do that, she doesn’t want to go.” The operator says something else and he nods. His eyes tighten at the corners and he glances at you. “I can take you to a service clinic. They can assign you-”

“Home,” you plead. “I just need to get home. I can- I can deal with it.”

“I don’t know… do you have, um. Do you have an alpha you usually…?”

“No.”

Tears well up fast and hot, blurring your vision, sliding down your cheeks in silent streaks. Your whole body feels wrong, like you’ve been unraveled from the inside, trembling and raw.

“I just want to go home,” you whisper, folding in on yourself. “I have my meds. I can manage if I can just get home. Please.”

He repeats what you say into the phone. They say something and he shakes his head and hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Okay. Alright. We’re going to get you home, okay?”

He helps you to your feet slowly, carefully, arms braced around you like he’s afraid you’ll break. You lean into him, weak and unsteady, but there’s no judgment in his touch, just quiet strength and a protective kind of focus that makes your throat tighten all over again.

The lobby fades behind you. The night air hits your overheated skin like salvation. Seungcheol doesn’t say a word as he guides you into the passenger seat of his car, buckles you in, and throws his jacket over your lap for warmth. His hands are shaking as he starts the engine.

“Can you give me directions?”

You mumble them. You’re not even sure that he hears you. He has no idea the bomb he’s given you, tossing his jacket over you. Your fingers curl into it, greedy. Inhaling deeply, you feel yourself drift as he drives, the hum of the engine lulling you into a half-daze. The smell of Seungcheol is overwhelming, but comforting. Steady. No longer a threat, but something you want. Need.

It isn’t until Seungcheol’s hands are gently shaking you that you realize you’re at your apartment. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes. He looks down at you, glasses a little askew as he asks you a question. His words are garbled and you don’t understand, shaking your head in confusion as he gazes at you.

“Come on,” he sighs, unbuckling your seat for you. His chest brushes across you as he does, bergamot and cardamom hitting you so hard that it knocks the senses out of you. You’re near catatonic for a second until you feel his hands pressed against your forehead. “Fuck, you’re burning up. Can I carry you?”

You must nod, because he bends low and scoops you out of the car. You jostle against his chest as he carries you bridal style toward the stairs. His scent is mind numbing. Your face is too close to his neck and he doesn’t have a scent blocker on, pheromones doing insane damage to your self control as he climbs the stairs, you in his arms like you weigh absolutely nothing.

Gently, Seungcheol places you on your feet. He slides an arm around your waist, keeping you upright and pinned to him as he unlocks your door. You have no idea where he got your keys, must have fished them out of your purse at some point.

Seungcheol guides you into your dark apartment, helping you to the couch like you’re made of glass. You collapse onto it, dazed. He crouches, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes are devastatingly soft, touch featherlight.

“Let me call a doctor.”

“No.” Your voice is hoarse but immediate. “Please don’t. I can’t go to the hospital again. I don’t want to do this strapped to a bed, surrounded by strangers and white lights and IVs. I can’t.”

He exhales, hands flexing. “Okay. Okay. But—then what? Do you have anyone who can help you through it? Any alpha you-”

“No. I just do it alone with meds. They’re in my bathroom cabinet. If you could just get them, I can do this.”

“I don’t think meds are going to help.” His admission is soft. Regretful, almost. Like it pains him to tell you this.

You think he’s right, but you don’t know what else to do.

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. You watch the internal war play out on his face, concern and hesitance and something harder to name. His throat bobs as he swallows. “If… look, if there’s no one else. I can try to help.”

You suck in a sharp breath. “What?”

“I can try. Only if you want. Only if you need. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage, I just… I don’t want you to suffer. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m here. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

A fresh wave of tears hits you, shame curling hot in your chest.

“You don’t want to,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad. And I feel awful. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to put you in this position-”

“Hey.” His voice is firmer now, but not unkind. He shifts forward, his hands finding yours, wrapping them gently between his palms. Your skin tingles where he touches you, a fresh wave of heat licking through you. “Stop. Look at me.”

You do. Barely. His face is open and honest, his eyes warm. He’s so pretty like this, looking at you like you’re something he cares about - someone he cares about.

“I want to help you. Not because I pity you. Not because I feel obligated. Because I care about you. And you’re in pain. And I can do something about it.” He takes a breath, then adds, softer, “Even if that means the more intimate parts.”

Your face crumples, fresh humiliation rising, but he keeps holding your gaze, steady and calm.

“Only if you want to,” he says. “Only if you’re lucid and safe and sure. If you want me to sit on the other side of the apartment all night and just be here, I will. If you want to go to sleep and pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow, I’ll follow your lead.”

“I don’t want you on the other side of the apartment,” you admit. “I just feel embarrassed by what I need.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially for something out of your control. Your body isn’t your enemy.”

You press your lips together, fighting the emotions building in your chest, but it’s no use. A soft sob slips out before you can stop it, and Seungcheol is there in an instant, wrapping his arms around you with careful strength, cradling you against him like he’s anchoring you to the moment.

His scent hits you more fully now, warm and earthy beneath the sharp spice, like cinnamon bark and sun-warmed cedar. It fills your lungs and settles into the frantic edge of your nerves like balm, and it’s… comforting. Not invasive. Not overwhelming.

Just Seungcheol.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “Whatever you need, we go slow. I’ll follow your pace. You lead.”

“Even if it’s more than you expected?”

“Even then.”

Seungcheol helps you sit back, propped with cushions on the couch, still watching you like you might unravel again, but not because he doubts you. Because he cares. Because he’s listening to every breath you take like it matters.

“I’ll need… a few things,” you say, quietly. “If this really goes into the full cycle. I have suppressants, but they won’t help much unless I can get them in the next hour, and I don’t think I have that kind of time anymore.”

“Okay. Tell me what you need.”

You breathe in. “Water. A lot of it. Heat spikes dehydrate fast, and I’ll probably get a fever if we don’t keep me hydrated. Heats are a game of chess except sometimes the board blows up.”

“Funny. Got it.”

“And blankets,” you add quickly. “I’ll feel cold, even if I’m burning. Like weight and softness. Like nesting.”

“Like a bird… or dinosaur.”

You scowl at him and he grins, dimples appearing in his cheek. It makes you want to lean forward and bite him, to sink your teeth in and never let go.

“What else?” He asks.

“I’ll need food eventually. Simple things. Broths, carbs. My body’s going to want to burn through everything at once.”

“Easy.”

“And proximity.” You hesitate here, voice wavering. “I’ll need closeness. I haven’t had a heat partner before, but probably a lot of sex. It uh - comes in waves but it helps. Obviously. So there’s that.”

“I can do that.” There’s no hesitation. Just firm dedication. “It’s not a problem. What else?”

You look at him, something stirring in your chest, still unsure how to express the storm of emotions bubbling beneath your skin. “What have you done for your omegas in the past? During heat? This is sort of new to me.”

He pauses. “I haven’t. I’ve never spent a heat with an omega.”

“What?”

“I’ve never been with an omega at all, to be honest with you.” The gravity of his statement makes you panic. You start to sit up, protests bubbling to your lips but he hushes you, eases you back down. “It’s fine. I’m fine, I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t totally sure.”

“Why offer at all?”

“Because it’s you,” he says simply. “And I’d rather learn how to help you than let you suffer alone.”

A beat passes.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he echos. “Let’s get you settled.”

Seungcheol stands, giving you one more lingering gaze before he sets himself to the task of readying your apartment. He sends you to your room to change into a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt before he lets you settle on the couch, sweaty and shaking.

Seungcheol moves through your space like he’s been here before, like he knows where everything is even when he clearly doesn’t. He opens cabinets and drawers gently, always looking back at you as though he’s seeking permission. You nod each time, endeared by his hesitancy.

You don’t know what to make of his admission of never being with an omega before. In your experience, most alphas would loathe to admit that, finding something wrong with it. But Seungcheol doesn’t seem to mind, admitting it as a simple fact, neither good nor bad.

You like that about him, his self-assuredness.

When he finds your largest pot, Seungcheol fills it with water and sets it over the stove. He pulls out ingredients for simple foods: rice, pasta, anything with carbs like you’d said. He hums under his breath as he moves, a soft, low sound that vibrates in your bones.

It’s soothing. Almost domestic. But every second that stretches between you builds like static, his very presence buzzing along your awareness like an exposed wire.

Seungcheol brings you a cool glass of water and kneels to hand it to you, his fingers brushing yours when you reach out to take it. You try not to flinch at the bolt of electricity that jumps up your arm. His eyes linger on your face, reading you. Not pitying. Not worried. Just seeing.

“You’re doing okay?” He asks, but by his tone, he knows you are. You nod, but your throat is dry again, so you take a few gulps of water, nearly emptying the glass. He laughs and reaches for it when some spills over, running down your chin. “Careful.”

Something in his voice changes. The softness of it ripples down your spine and you look at him over the brim of your glass. His scent is warmer. Closer. Still under control, but pressing at the edges of your awareness like velvet, his alpha instincts responding to your body chemistry, the need of your hormones begging for him.

Seungcheol rises, keeping a respectful distance, and yet his gaze burns where it rests on you. He takes the glass from you, fingers brushing yours again before heading to the kitchen to refill it.

It makes you unravel, every part of you unspooling wildly as you watch him in your kitchen, the muscles under his shirt flexing. He rolls his sleeves as he turns the stove off before coming back your way, forearms bare, veins throbbing.

Arousal unravels inside of you. You feel the tip from Stage 1 to Stage 2, your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your hands shaking more. When Seungcheol offers the glass, you don’t take it. You stare at your hands, willing yourself to stop, willing yourself to stop wanting him. The fear of making him uncomfortable is so sudden, a wave crashing into you.

Seungcheol notices. He drops to his knees immediately, putting the glass of water on the coffee table. This time, he doesn’t hesitate when he touches you, putting his palm to your forehead, his other resting on top of your wrist, his thumb tracing back and forth soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is like velvet. “What happened?”

Your lips part, but no words come. You try again. Nothing. You don’t know how to shape the words, don’t know how to tell him that a second ago, you thought he was domestic and sweet, and now you’ve strayed into dangerous territory, thinking that you’d like nothing more for him to pin you down and fuck you until you can’t feel anything but him anymore.

You don’t need to tell him. Seungcheol inhales and you see the shift happen, a shiver rattling through him. He closes his eyes, inhaling again. A knowing, almost pained sound grumbles in the back of his throat and you squirm in response. He drops his hand from your head to your shoulder, fingers squeezing.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes snap open and he looks up at you, deadly serious. “Hey. No shame. Not with me. You told me to help, didn’t you? Let me do that.”

You nod, small and shaky. He lingers for a second longer, like he's giving you a chance to back out, then slowly rises, curling an arm around your back. You lean into him instinctively, your body already seeking contact, and he lifts you with ease.

Your bedroom isn’t far, but the walk feels endless, every footstep echoes with your racing pulse. You can feel his scent thickening around you, not overpowering, but present, comforting. It keeps you tethered, grounded. You cling to him in silence, your skin flushed hot, thighs pressing together in search of friction, your heart betraying you in its longing.

He places you gently on your bed, kneeling down beside you. For a long moment, he doesn’t touch you. He just watches, reading your every breath, every twitch of discomfort.

At first, you don’t do anything but stare at him. Seungcheol is so beautiful, with a plush mouth made for kissing, long eyelashes that frame gentle eyes, a dimple that appears each time he smiles. You’ve always noticed him, this quiet and soft alpha in your office. You’d never imagined you’d be here, looking up at him with want in your gut so strong that you can barely stand it.

Seungcheol senses it, because of course he does. He surges forward, catching your mouth in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and uncertain at first, hesitating to see if you pull away. You don’t pull away at all. Instead, you keen, a whine slipping between your mouths that makes him groan in response.

He deepens the kiss slowly, reverently. His lips are soft but sure, his hands careful as they frame your face. He tastes faintly of cherry chapstick, your omega running wild as you lean into him and lick into his mouth, eager to taste him.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, panting as he breaks the kiss. He’s leaning onto your bed now, pressing his nose against yours. You feel him pant against you, barely contained. You nod, unable to speak. “Even if this goes further?”

“Please.”

That one word seems to break him. He climbs up into your bed, hovering over you, pinning you to the mattress. You let out a sound of appreciation as he settles, his mouth meeting yours again. This time, there’s heat in it. One hand roams you carefully while the other is planted by your head, keeping him looming over you. Every touch eases the ache and stokes the fire in equal measure.

You can’t get enough of him, running your hands over his stomach and around his waist, pulling at him, desperate. It feels like you’re burning up, both suffering and relieved at the same time as his tongue finds the warmth of your mouth, drinking you in.

His scent is rich and spicy, unmistakably alpha. It makes your omega instincts claw at you, urging you to submit, to bare your neck. You tilt your head, exposing the sensitive skin, and Seungcheol growls low, his lips brushing the pulse point before he nips gently, not enough to mark but enough to make you shudder. Your slick pools between your thighs, the air thick with your arousal, and he groans again, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.

“Fuck,” he growls, burying his face in your neck. It might be the first time you’ve heard him curse. “The sounds you make… fuck.”

Seungcheol’s tongue darts out, sweeping against your scent gland. His head snaps up and he frowns, realizing there’s a scent blocker on your neck. His lip curls like he’s offended, and he gently peels the pad off your neck, soothing the sting as the adhesive tears off with his warm, wet tongue.

His tongue directly against your neck nearly makes you catatonic. Your eyes roll back, breath catching as he mouths at you before pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses up and down your neck.

“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

His hand slides down your body, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You arch into his touch, a needy whimper escaping as his fingers find your slick-soaked panties. He teases you, fingers circling slowly, pressing the fabric of your underwear into your messy cunt.

“Please,” you pant.

There’s that word again. It seems to make him malfunction, makes him bend to your will. He nods, peppering your collarbones with butterfly-light kisses as he pulls your underwear to the side. His fingers drag up and down your cunt and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your arms circle around his neck, clinging to him for dear life, hips canting as he leisurely circles your clit, applying subtle pressure.

“Feel okay?” He asks, breathing the words into your ear. His teeth nip at your ear playfully and you gasp, making him chuckle deep in his throat. “Do you want-”

“Please.”

He kisses your jaw. “Got it.”

Seungcheol presses a finger into your heat, wet and slow, aided by the arousal dripping from your entrance. The stretch is perfect, his fingers curling just right, and you gasp, hips bucking against his hand.

You whine, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt. He hums in response, pleased at your reaction. He slowly starts to pump his fingers, restricted by the waistband of your sweats. His thumb swirls against your clit and you hurtle toward an orgasm from the barest stimulation, already too worked up, too fucked out on him and his fingers and the hormones.

Your body sings under his touch, heat coiling tighter, your omega keening for more, for him, for everything. His lips find yours again, mouths clashing as he slips another finger in, working you open until you’re shaking in his grasp and coming around his fingers. You hear the wet smack of his hand against your pussy, the way his fingers squelch.

You don’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed by it. Instead, you’re floating in a fucked out haze, the world dulling. There’s just Seungcheol’s lazy tongue in your mouth and the smell of bergamot and cardamom. The weight of him on you feels safe, setting you in a trance.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you. You make a noise of protest but he hushes you with a gentle kiss. You feel a little more aware as the orgasm subsides, the ache you’d had a few moments ago dulled by the satisfaction. You know it’ll get worse and you’ll need more, but for now, you’re okay.

You open your mouth to give a shy thank you when you’re stopped, entranced by the way Seungcheol brings his fingers, shining with your cum, up to his mouth. Your lips part in shock as he pops them past his lips, sucking generously. He hums, eyelids fluttering shut as he licks them clean.

Never had you imagined that, imagined him like this. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are dilated. Starving. Feral.

“Taste so fucking good,” He murmurs, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss. You taste yourself on him, different but not unpleasant. “Can’t wait to taste you properly later.” That makes you whine and you reach for him, but he smiles and kisses your nose before standing up. You pout and he laughs. “Water. You need water.”

Seungcheol leaves your room but he leaves the door open just in case. You nuzzle into the bed, fisting the jacket he’d given you earlier as you nuzzle into it. You wish the bed smelled more like him. Right now it just smells like you, with bits of Seungcheol laced in.

You close your eyes, letting your body melt into the sheets, muscles pleasantly sore and mind hazy with velocetin, a neurochemical that heightens arousal and reduces pain perception during Stage 2 of an omega’s heat cycle. The room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the AC and the faint creak of the floorboards as Seungcheol moves through the house.

When he comes back, Seungcheol is holding a bottle of water in one hand and something else in the other. A bowl of mac and cheese. He brandishes both proudly before sitting on the bed next to you. You prop yourself up on the pillows, looking at him through your lashes.

"Figured you might need both,” he says.

You shake your head. “Just water.”

“You haven’t eaten dinner.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He levels a look at you. Switches tactics. “It would make me feel better if you did,” he urges gently. He puts the water on the nightstand, bowl of mac and cheese in his lap. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along your bottom lip. “Please.”

That word hangs in the air between you, both a pleasantry and a weapon. You feel the way he means it, the way it would make him feel better if you ate. You nod, sitting up with his careful assistance until you’re leaning against the headboard.

Seungcheol stabs some of the pasta and lifts his hand before pausing, realizing he was about to feed you. You both flush, averting his eyes and handing you the bowl awkwardly, you trying not to put it down and jump him at the thought of him wanting to care for you this way.

Instead, you bite into the mac and cheese. It’s a little salty, but it’s good. You eat the entire bowl in comfortable silence, Seungcheol holding out the bottle of water for you in exchange for your empty dish. You trade and you chug some of the water, letting it keep you cool.

“I guess I didn’t realize how much of an appetite I had,” you note, sagging into the pillows. You feel good. Far better than you ever have when dealing with your cycle alone.

He grins, cocky and unrepentant. “Guess I fixed that, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning too. “Shut up.”

“I could,” he says, climbing back into bed beside you, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you whine like that.”

You flush at the memory, at the way your body still responds to his voice alone. He notices, of course he does, and his smile softens. One hand finds your waist, tugging you closer until you're nestled against him again.

“Take a nap,” he murmurs, leaning back into the headboard. “You need rest.”

“What about you?”

He smiles softly. “I’m good right where I am.”

You wake to the sound of voices. For a moment, you're disoriented, wrapped in sheets that smell faintly like Seungcheol and sweat and a myriad of other scents familiar to you from years of heat cycles. It’s still dark in your room, only the glow of a neon sign outside slipping through your blinds a source of illumination.

You roll over instinctively, reaching for Seungcheol and you freeze. The spot where he was when you had fallen asleep is now vacant. Cold, like he hadn’t been there in the last hour.

Panic lances through your chest, so painful that it feels like a physical blow. You all but fall out of bed, heart hammering when you realize he left. He’s gone and you’re alone and you don’t know what to do, terror working its way up your throat.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe everything he said was just talk. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to silence the rush of doubt, of fear- until you hear it again. Voices. Voices that had woken you up in the first place, momentarily forgotten by a hormone-addled brain and sleep.

The door is shut to your room but you reach for it now, cracking it open. Dim light floods through the gap. All the lights in your apartment are off, but the single bulb over your stove is burning, a warm golden glow filtering down the hall.

Sticking your head out, you see Seungcheol standing at your door. It’s mostly closed, just enough for him to block the gap with whoever he’s talking to. His broad back is facing you and you cock your head, puzzled. You can see the tension rippling through him, the way his hackles rise and the rigid way he stands, like he’s barring entry to something important.

“Yeah, you’ve been really helpful,” Seungcheol growls. There’s a low, dangerous edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before. It sets the hairs on your arm standing.

“Relax, man.” You don’t recognize the voice on the other side of the door. It’s playful, distinctly male. “I brought you your shit, didn’t I? You’re acting like I came to steal her.”

Seungcheol bristles. “Out, Soonyoung.”

“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung - whoever that is - says. “Message received. You don’t have to piss on the doormat, Cheol.”

“I just might.”

You can’t help the small sound that escapes you, half laugh, half sigh of relief.

Seungcheol’s head whips around at the sound, eyes immediately softening when they land on you. “Hey,” he says, voice gentler now, but still tight with emotion. “You should be resting.”

You pad down the hallway toward him. Each step closer makes the fire inside of you return. You feel the throb come back, needing more, subtle but growing. “I thought you left.”

His entire expression changes, and he’s at your side in an instant. “No. No, baby,” he says, cupping your face with both hands. “I just went to the door. I called Soonyoung for some clothes and stuff. I wasn’t leaving. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”

Baby. He says it so naturally, so unconsciously, that you’re not even sure he realizes it slipped out. But it hits you like a warm wave, softening every edge of panic still clinging to your chest. Your knees wobble slightly, and he notices. His hands slide from your face to your waist, grounding you there, steady and sure. He pulls you closer, and you melt into him, breathing him in.

Not gone. Not alone. He’s right here with you, like he said he would.

“Sorry. I just panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should have known you’d wake up.”

A throat clears behind him.

You both freeze, and then Seungcheol stiffens, the muscles under your hands tensing like a drawn bowstring. His eyes narrow behind his glasses as he turns his head, keeping you tight against him, chest to chest, like a shield. A low, warning growl rumbles from deep in his throat.

“Soonyoung was just leaving,” Seungcheol asserts.

“Soonyoung is leaving, but also says he hopes your cycle goes well!”

Carefully, you peek around Seungcheol to see Soonyoung in the doorway. He’s standing in the doorway with a duffel slung over his shoulder, unbothered and grinning. His dark hair is long around his ears, and his eyes curve into soft crescents when he smiles. He waves at you, the gesture so sincere it makes you falter, like he’s genuinely happy to see you, even though you’ve clearly never met.

“Nice to meet you!”

Another warning growl vibrates through Seungcheol’s chest. You feel it more than hear it.

Soonyoung just rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, relax.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender as he backs away. “Let me know if he starts brooding in corners or being unbearable. Happens when he doesn’t get enough attention.”

“Bye, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol grits out.

Soonyoung flashes one last wink and manages to pull the door shut just before Seungcheol fully turns to kill him. He exhales sharply and mutters something under his breath.

You look up at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “Territorial much?”

His ears flush instantly, color blooming down to his neck. He chews the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping. “I apologize,” he murmurs, stepping away. “I know I’ve overstepped and-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, reaching to pull him back, hands curling into his sides. “I liked it.” His brows lift, uncertain. You offer a soft smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you before. You’re usually so calm. Quiet. Kind of unassuming. Not very…”

“Not very alpha.”

“Not in the way people expect. But that’s not a bad thing.” He studies you for a moment, searching your expression, and something in his shoulders loosens. “I like the way you are. And the possessiveness…”

You shiver and he grins, cockiness returning to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

His hands slide back to your waist, gripping just a little firmer this time. “You shouldn’t have told me that. Now I’m not going to be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to. Please.”

Seungcheol forgets all about his bag by the door. He scoops you up in his arms, taking you back to your room. You let out a soft sound, something almost like a purr, keening under him, excitement and arousal flooding you overtime.

He notices, groaning when he catches the change in your body chemistry. He places you down on the bed gently, crawling over you, hand skimming up your t-shirt as he does. His fingers are warm and light, playful. You don’t want playful, though. You want greedy. Hungry.

The buzz of anticipation curls low in your belly, heat blooming under your skin like wildfire. You arch into him instinctively, hips twitching. “Don’t play with me,” you breathe, reaching up to fist the fabric at his sides. “Please.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Recognition, you think. Like he sees the hunger gnawing inside of you and he recognizes it as his own. You want it, want that fire in him. You want to dive in head first and never come up for air. You want him so bad it hurts, a physical pain manifesting between your legs as your thoughts drift away and your instinct takes over.

“Please,” is all you can whisper.

That’s all it takes. The control he’s been clinging to snaps like a thread pulled too tight. He crashes his mouth onto yours, swallowing your moan as his body presses down, heavy and solid, every inch of him demanding to be closer. His kiss is nothing like the ones before, this one is rough, consuming, all tongue and teeth and need. His hands slide up your sides, pushing the shirt higher, until the fabric is bunched at your ribs and he can finally touch bare skin.

His palms are searing, dragging up your waist to your ribs, brushing just beneath your breasts before he groans deep in his throat, your scent thick in the air now, laced with heat, need, you.

“You smell so fucking good,” he growls, mouth trailing hot, wet kisses down your throat. “It’s driving me insane.”

You thread your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again, his hips pressing into yours, and you gasp at the hardness you feel through his pants. He’s still in his work clothes, though they’re wrinkled and sweaty and a mess. You tug at them desperately, whining, trying to get them off.

He growls again, low and possessive, and then he’s kissing you hard, his body rolling against yours in slow, grinding movements. His thigh slots between yours, pinning you in place, and the friction makes your back arch, chasing more.

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters against your mouth, one hand cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your bra, his thumb brushing over your nipple. “I’ll give you anything, baby. Anything.”

There’s that nickname again. Baby. It sounds sinful on his lips, like he’d do anything for you, like he would give anything for you. It makes you dizzy with gluttonous power and you pant, pulling him as close as you can get him, a button popping on his shirt.

“I want you. Now.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darken, pupils blown, and he pulls back just enough to kneel above you. His gaze rakes over you, flushed, trembling. He makes a sound, something pitiful, hands trembling slightly as his fingers work the buttons of his shirt.

He shrugs his shirt off, the fabric catching on broad shoulders before it falls, revealing hard planes of his chest, skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. His muscles flex when he moves, every line of him radiating strength. Your mouth waters, arousal pooling between your legs, screaming to touch him, to taste him.

He doesn’t rush, though. His fingers linger on his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, the clink of metal loud in the charged silence. Your hips shift, impatient. He tuts at you, narrowing his eyes and you still immediately, falling into line, eager to please. His mouth twitches and he drops a hand to give your thigh a squeeze as if to say good job.

It makes you want to pass out.

Seungcheol slides his belt free, letting it drop, and when he unbuttons his pants, the sound of his zipper is tortuous. You want him immediately, you want him now, but he seems dead set on doing this at exactly his pace. So you let him, letting the ache peak inside of you, shivering at what you know he’s going to give you.

He carefully shoves his pants down, kicking them alongside his briefs in one fell swoop. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the tip glistening with precum. Your core clenches at the sight, a fresh wave of slick dripping from you, and he groans, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, voice low. He peels your sweats down your legs, shaking his head as he goes, overwhelmed by the sheer need for him, to your body's reaction. “Fuck.”

He crawls back over you, hands skimming your sides, sliding up to peel your shirt off of you. The air is cold but Seungcheol’s touch is burning you up. He deftly removes your bra, tossing it somewhere behind him. He pauses, eyes locked on you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your breath catch. It’s like he can’t get enough of you, cannot fathom what’s in front of him.

Seungcheol shakes himself as if from a daze and then his mouth is on you, lips trailing fire down your throat, over your collarbone, until he reaches your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling, and you moan, back arching to press closer.

His worship is meticulous, unhurried. He lavishes attention on your other breast, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, while his hand slides down, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You’re trembling, omega instincts in overdrive, and when his fingers finally find your slick-soaked folds, you cry out, hips bucking into his touch. He groans against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, and pulls back to look at you, eyes blazing.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice scratchy. “So wet for me.” His fingers tease, spreading your slick, circling your clit with maddening slowness. “All for me?”

“Yes. Yours.”

Hearing you say it makes something snap in him. His pupils dilate, fucked out and filled with an intensity you didn’t know was possible. He dips lower, kissing a path down your stomach, nipping at the soft skin above your hips. He settles between your thighs, spreading them wide, and the sight of him there, all broad shoulders, dark eyes, and lips parted, makes your core throb.

He doesn’t tease this time, reaching up with one hand to rip off his glasses and toss them to the corner of the mattress. He drops down and his mouth finds you, tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line through your folds, and you moan, loud and broken, as he tastes you. Relief floods through you. You feel yourself go boneless, the pain that was ebbing in you a moment ago dulling again as Seungheol leisurely tongues at you, groaning while he does.

Seungcheol is relentless, worshipful, every lick and suck a testament to his need to please you. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, then harder, and you writhe, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard. He moans into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and doubles down, tongue flicking with precision, lapping up every drop of slick. His fingers join in, two slipping inside you, curling against that perfect spot, and the stretch, the pressure, is overwhelming.

You gasp, hips grinding against his face, chasing the building heat in your stomach. He hums, pleased, and the sound pushes you closer to the edge. He’s messy, slick coating his chin, his lips. He doesn’t care. He seems drunk on it, one hand pressing your thighs to further open you up, pressing his face further into your cunt to drink you in.

His fingers thrust in time with his tongue, every curl and suck calculated to make you unravel. You shiver under him, your limbs unable to keep up, thighs twitching against his hand. It feels maddening, better than anything you’ve ever felt up until this point.

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, dragging you under until you’re gasping for air. Your thighs clamp around his head and he lets you. He laps at your entrance as it drips, drawing out every shudder, every pulse, until you’re whimpering and overstimulated.

Even overstimulated, you want more. Need more.

Seungcheol pulls back, lips glistening, eyes wild. He pulls his fingers from you and crawls up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is filthy, desperate, and you moan into it, pulling him closer.

“Need you,” you gasp, hands roaming his back, feeling the muscles flex under your fingertips, your nails cramping. “Need you inside of me. Please.”

He nods, unable to respond. He lowers his waist and drops a hand down to peel your thighs open. You feel how wet and messy you are but you don’t care. Seungcheol seems to appreciate it, swearing when he looks between your bodies to fist his heavy cock and line himself up with your entrance.

The anticipation makes you tremble. He pushes in slowly, stretching you inch by inch, and you both groan, the sensation overwhelming. He’s big, filling you completely, and your walls flutter around him, slick easing the way.

“Fuck,” he grits out, dropping his forhead against yours. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

Seungcheol fights to keep still, fights to let you adjust around him. You’re stretched tight, gripping him like a vice, your breathing hitched as you struggle yourself, near ready to come from just this alone.

You manage to hang on, tangling your fingers in the damp hair at the base of his neck. You need more - always more. You start rocking your hips, urging him deeper. It feels so good you see spots in your vision. He moans and thrusts hard on instinct, bottoming out.

The pace builds, his hips snapping, each thrust precise and deep, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. The pressure builds so fast you barely register it, chasing your high and whatever he’ll give you, your omega instincts screaming for it.

He can tell. He quickens his pace, trying to get you there faster. It does the trick, because you come around him without warning. You pulse around him and he slows down, grinding his hips against you, letting you gush around him until your shaking subsides.

Seungcheol is still rock hard, cock throbbing. Your forehead rests against his forearm, Seungcheol leaning over you, caging you in.

“Can you take more?” You nod but he shakes his head, nosing your temple. “You have to verbally tell me.”

“Can take more.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He kisses your temple and picks his pace back up.

It’s slower, but more defined. Deep. Seungcheol’s stroke is slow and deliberate, one of his hands slipping under your thigh to hike it up around his waist. That makes you whine, high-pitched and he loves it, mouth catching yours, drinking in all the sounds you make.

You’re close again, the pleasure building faster now, amplified by the way he watches you, eyes never leaving your face, like he’s memorizing every gasp, every moan. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, still swollen from his mouth, and he rubs tight, relentless circles.

“Want you to come again,” he murmurs, voice raw. There’s a bit of a command in his voice, laced with something you swear is devotion. “Wanna feel you, baby. Give it to me.”

His words and the relentless drive of his cock are too much. You whimper, nails digging into his back and he leans down, lips brushing against your neck. Not biting - that’s far too advanced for whatever this is - and his fingers press harder, circling faster.

The coil in your belly snaps and your second orgasm crashes through you, sharper and more intense. Your body locks around him, walls pulsing as you come again. He groans, low and guttural, pleased by the way you clench around him. But he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it.

You’re shaking and oversensitive, but he’s not done. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, keeping you tethered.

“So good for me,” he praises, kissing your sweaty forehead. “So fucking perfect. You did so good.”

The praise makes your omega sing, and you cling to him, breathless, as he chases his own release. His hips stutter, breaths growing ragged, and with a final, deep thrust, he comes, spilling inside of you. He groans, dropping his forehead against you, shaking in your arms as he comes down from his high.

Finally, he collapses over you, careful not to crush you. You stay like that, a pile of tangled limbs, panting. His lips find your neck, kissing softly, soothing spots he’d nipped.

“You okay?” He croaks, voice hoarse with disuse.

You’re only slightly coherent, somewhere stuck between a dreamlike space where your omega is satiated and reality. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Good.”

“I’m gonna grab water, okay? I’ll only be gone for a second. Just gonna get water and then we can sleep for a little.”

“Mhmm.”

Seungcheol is hesitant this time when he gets up, no doubt worried about what happened the last time you thought he left. This time, you’re too out of it to really register how long it takes him to get water. One moment he’s out the door and the next the bed is dipping under his weight as he cradles your head to feed you water.

It’s cool and you come back to life a little, opening your eyes as you gulp, greedy. He admonishes you to be careful not to choke, tilting the glass so that the water isn’t gushing into your mouth. When you drain the glass, he smiles and kisses you.

“Good,” he hums, happy. That makes you beam at him, thrilled that he’s pleased. “More?”

You shake your head. “Tired.”

“Okay. Let me change the sheets - don’t move. I’ll work around you, okay?”

Somehow, he manages to. With a careful series of rolling you to the side and lifting you to slide new sheets under you, Seungcheol executes an impressive sheet change without really bothering you. He disappears once more to throw the spent sheets in the wash.

Upon his return, you’re barely awake. You reach for him anyway, buried somewhere underneath piles of blankets that smell like him. Finally.

Seungcheol lets you pull him into bed, sliding across the mattress until you’re flush chest to chest, the beating of his heart against yours. He smells good. Content. Happy. Your eyes blink heavily as you breathe him in, all pain forgotten.

“Sleep,” he mumbles, just as tired. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When you wake up again, you’re not really sure what time it is. All you know is that there is orange light burning through your blinds, something like late afternoon. More important, there’s an ache between your legs and there’s sweat on the back of your neck, already restless from whatever dream had woken you up.

The room is quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing and Seungcheol’s steady exhales beside you. His arm is draped loosely over your waist. His scent is warm and spicy, grounding you. But beneath that cool calm his presence brings is a restless heat simmering, starting in your core and spreading to your limbs.

You try to ignore it, shutting your eyes and willing yourself back to sleep. It doesn’t go away, an ache growing in its place. A whine slips through your lips, despite your best efforts. The sound is small, but piercing through the stillness and before you can tamp down on it, Seungcheol is stirring, arm tightening briefly before he’s hooking a chin over your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks, voice low and rough with sleep. “You okay?”

His fingers brush back and forth across your waist. It’s supposed to be soothing but it’s almost maddening.

“Feel hot. Need you.”

Seungcheol presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. You feel the curve of his smile. “I’ve got you.”

He moves slowly, peeling the sheets back. His hands are reverent, skimming your thighs and parting them as he settles between them. The air feels electric, every brush of his skin against yours sending sparks through you.

Like always, Seungcheol takes his time. His lips start at your knee, kissing softly, then trailing higher, nipping the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You whimper, hips twitching, needy and desperate, and he hums, pleased.

“So needy,” he teases. You’re not embarrassed this time, knowing that with him, there’s nothing to be worried about.

He spreads your legs wider, exposing your warm, wet core. He bites his lower lip, teeth digging into the flesh as he groans, like he’s trying to fight himself on diving in and taking what he wants versus giving you what you need.

The first pass of Seungcheol’s tongue is slow and deliberate, a long, slow-soft drag through your folds that makes you gasp, hands fisting the sheets. He hums, the vibration making you twitch. His lips close gently around your clit, giving an experimental suck. You cry out and he grins, dragging his tongue to dip back down to your entrance for a taste.

Seungcheol is relentless, his mouth working you with a devotion that borders on obsession. His tongue traces every inch of you, slow and thorough, lapping up your slick like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He alternates between broad, languid strokes and precise flicks, learning your reactions, lingering where you tremble most. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you open, grounding you as you writhe, the slick coating his chin and lips only spurring him on.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling away for a second. He leans over your cunt and lets a string of spit and cum drip from his swollen mouth to your cunt before chasing it with his tongue. “I could stay here forever.”

He dives back in, tongue pressing into you, fucking you with slow, shallow thrusts of his mouth. Your moans are broken, and he takes it as encouragement, running his tongue in lazy circles, tasting all of you. Just as you start to near a soft high, his fingers join in, pressing in gently, making your vision blurry.

The first orgasm builds fast, your body already primed from the restless heat of your sleep. His fingers pump in time with his tongue, relentless, and when he sucks hard on your clit, you shatter. A cry tears from your throat, hips bucking against his face as slick gushes, your walls clenching around his fingers. He doesn’t stop, lapping through your tremors, drawing out every pulse until you’re shaking, oversensitive, whimpering his name.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick. “You can give me one more.”

You can. He knows it. You know it.

His mouth softens, less intense but no less thorough, kissing your folds gently before returning to your clit with slow, teasing licks. Your body protests, too sensitive, but the heat is already building again, coaxed by his worshipful attention. He’s patient, methodical, every movement calculated to keep you on the edge without overwhelming you. His fingers slide back in, slower this time, curling lazily, and you feel the stretch, the fullness.

Your second orgasm creeps up, slower but deeper, a steady wave that builds as he works you with unwavering focus. His tongue flicks faster, lips sealing around your clit, and when he hums, the vibration tips you over. You come with a sob, less sharp but more intense, your whole body trembling as pleasure rolls through you, slick coating his hand, his mouth. He laps at you softly, easing you through it, until you’re boneless, panting, your omega sated.

Seungcheol’s kisses turn languid, worshipping, cleaning up the mess he made, savouring every drop. Your hands loosen in the sheets and he finally pulls back, crawling back up to the bed, pressing scattered, wet kisses up your body as he does.

“Better?” He asks when he reaches your face, nose brushing against yours.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and settles beside you, pulling you into his chest. His scent surrounds you, grounding, and you feel the bond pulse, warm and steady.

“Rest a little. Then we’ll shower.”

The shower fills with steam and the scent of eucalyptus. Fog covers the shower door as hot water runs over you and Seungcheol. His broad frame stands behind you, hands gentle but firm as he massages shampoo into your hair, working slow circles into your scalp. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed.

If only for a moment, it’s perfect. Almost too perfect, which makes your chest tighten with a quiet ache. This is just Seungcheol helping you through your heat, a temporary balm for a fire that will ultimately flare again.

You don’t know how you ever did this without him before. Don’t know how you’re going to manage to do it without him in the future. After just a day, Seungcheol has flipped your scope of the world upside down, changing your heat cycle entirely.

Typically, it’s days of foggy suffering with suppressants to numb you. It’s a listlessness that chases you for days until your hormones are right again, until you can feel the sun on your face and let it make you smile.

Now, you don’t know what it’s supposed to be.

You turn to face Seungcheol. Water is streaming down his chest, catching the sculpted lines of his front. Each droplet clings to him in a way you understand - you want to cling to him too.

Seungcheol is breathtaking, all strength and quiet care. It’s a wonder that someone so powerful can also be so gentle. He’s unlike anything you expected, and breaks the norms of what you thought having an alpha help you through your heat might be like.

You don’t fool yourself into thinking there’s anyone else like him. You already know that this is just him, just Seungcheol. It makes a flicker of fear come to life in your chest, wondering what will happen when your heat fades and the intimacy here dissolves like the water flowing down the drain.

You push the thought down. Gliding your hands over his chest, your fingers chase the droplets of water, feeling the steady pulse of his heart beneath your palm. It makes you ache with need again, an always there need for him coming back to life.

Heat cycles are like that. They’re made up of peaks and lows, moments where the need is so high it drives you insane followed by a near catatonic need to drift and sleep.

Now, you’re approaching another peak, pulse picking up, body thrumming.

Seungcheol senses the shift immediately. He’s attuned to you quickly, but you refuse to let yourself wonder what that means. He steps closer, hands pulling at your waist, dipping his head to brush his mouth against yours in an almost kiss.

His eyes darken with a mix of concern and something darker. “What’s that look?”

He steps closer, pressing you against the tiled wall, water pooling where your bodies meet. The warmth of him, the slickness of his skin, feels like a dream you’re terrified to wake from. You don’t answer, can’t. Your hands dip lower, tracing the hard ridge of his abdomen, and he tenses, breath catching.

“Baby,” he warns, voice rough. There’s no real protest there. Just a playful warning, edged with want.

The endearment hits you like a spark, igniting you. You can’t get enough of it when he calls you that, when he says it velvet-soft and purring, when he says it like you are his baby. His world. His omega.

You sink to your knees, tiles cold and wet beneath you. You look up at him through wet lashes, biting your lower lip, hesitant, wanting permission. His cock is already hard - has been the entire time you’ve been in the shower - and the sight pulls a whine from your throat. You want to taste him. Want to make him feel good.

“Please,” you ask, still unmoving, hands resting on your thighs.

The way he looks at you - everent, undone - makes you feel like you’re everything, even if part of you whispers that this is just your heat talking, just his alpha responding to your need.

Seungcheol nods. He places one hand to brace against the wall as you lean in to press soft kisses to the base of his shaft, lips brushing his warm skin. He groans, the sound deep and raw, and it sends a tremble of excitement through you.

Your tongue traces the underside of his cock, following a thick vein from base to tip. You swirl your tongue greedily around the crown of his cock, tasting the faint salt of him. It’s intoxicating, perfect, and you let yourself sink into it, humming pleasantly.

One of his hands comes down to rest on top of your head, not pulling, not pushing, just anchoring himself as you take him into your mouth. You go slow, savoring the weight of him. He’s big, stretching your mouth painfully to the limit, but you relax, breathing in through your nose.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Shit fuck. That mouth.”

The praise makes your omega preen. You hum again, the vibration making his hips twitch as you build a steady rhythm, head bobbing, tongue working the underside of his cock while your hand wraps around the base, stroking in sync.

Water rains down on you, making everything fluid. Your lips glide effortlessly around him, your grip on him firm, squeezing gently as your hand meets your mouth on the upstroke. His groans grow louder, more desperate, hips twitching but never taking control of your pace. His fingers tighten on your head, and yet he remains in control of himself, letting you take what you want.

“Fuuuck, just like that,” He pants, head tipping back. Water falls down his throat in rivulets. The sight of him, vulnerable and unraveling, makes your pussy throb, a wave of arousal running down your thighs and mixing with the water.

You take him in deeper until your nose brushes his pelvis, swallowing around him. He makes a broken sound, half growl, half moan, and his hips finally jerk. You welcome his shallow thrusts eagerly, moaning around him, encouraging him.

Seungcheol looks down, eyes locking with yours. His are fucked out and fazed, the raw edge to his gaze making your heart beat faster. You pull back a little, focusing on the tip, sucking hard, tongue swirling. Your hand pumps faster and his breathing turns ragged, muscles in his stomach twitching. You know he’s close and it makes you grin up at him, mouth full of spit and precum.

“Gonna - fuck - come,” he warns, voice strained.

You don’t pull away. You suck at him harder, desperate to give him this, to hold onto this perfect moment. With a guttural sound, he spills into your mouth. You swallow down every drop, lips sealed until he’s over sensitive and shying away from your mouth.

Easing back, you look up at him, your knees aching. He pulls you to your feet and to his lips, pressing you into a kiss that’s deep and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. He licks into you, uncaring as he pulls you close to his chest.

“So good,” he murmurs between kisses. “Such a sweet girl for me.”

You grin as he turns you around, walking you forward so that you're pressed against the warm tile of the shower wall. “My turn.”

Soft, neon light filters in from your window, washing your room in a smear of watercolor. You fidget in bed, body coming alive, arousal starting in gentle waves, building the more your body catches up. Seungcheol is already awake beside you, sensing your need. His warmth is a quiet anchor.

Seungcheol’s lips brush your neck, nuzzling and scenting, his gentle possessiveness soothing your omega. You let out a soft sigh, going pliant for him. He hums, pleased at your easy submission, tongue darting out to lick your neck playfully.

He’s tender, peppering your shoulder and neck with soft, wet kisses. Each one stokes the steady fire in your core and chest. The way he handles you is maddening, like you’re spun glass but he knows you can take whatever he gives you. Your omega preens and you shift closer, feeling the heat of him against you.

This is different from earlier. At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done this. You’ve lost track of time and the days. There’s just this: Seungcheol’s hand sliding down to lift your leg up for him, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance, weeping and wanting for him.

Then he slides in, slow and stretching you inch by inch, earning a dreamy exhale from your trembling lips. He grinds his hips against the curve of your ass, deep and languid, easing the ache between your legs. His strokes are measured and intimate, each one dragging against your walls, stoking the flames without rushing.

You moan, breathy, as your slick coats his cock, the wet sounds of your bodies obscene in the silence of the room. His hand slides up, cupping your chest, thumb brushing back and forth over your nipple until it pebbles under his rapt attention. You arch into his touch, whimpering.

“So good for me,” he murmurs against your neck. His voice is rough with sleep, just how you like it.

Seungcheol keeps the pace slow, hips rolling lazily. It builds a steady burn. His lips find the pulse point below your ear, sucking gently, not enough to make tender, but enough to make you shiver, cunt leaking down your thighs.

You reach back, fingers sliding in his hair to tug softly. He groans, low and raspy, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.

“Seungcheol,” you breathe, voice barely a whisper. “Cheol.”

He hums, pleased at the nickname. He grinds deeper, the friction perfect and overwhelming as the tip of his cock brushes against the soft spot inside of you, making you unwind.

Your eyes flutter open and you peer over your shoulder at him. The neon light catches the sweat on his skin, making him glow. You marvel at how beautiful he is, a powerful alpha, yours in this moment. Maybe not later, but you don’t think about that now, trembling as he brings you close to your orgasm like he’s done every time before.

His hand slips between your thighs, fingers seeking your clit, slick and swollen. He starts to circle the throbbing bud with agonizing slowness, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The sensation is devastating, punching the breath from your lungs. You rock your hips to meet his, desperate for your undoing, needing to come.

“Come on,” he urges, lips brushing your ear. He presses his fingers hard, circles them faster. Your breath catches and he feels it, deepening his thrusts, becoming more deliberate. “Come for me, baby.”

The words mixed with the intoxicating feeling of his cock makes you shatter, a soft cry spilling out of your lips as your pussy pulse around him, soaking him thoroughly. He groans, fucking you through it, slow and steady, drawing out the full length of your orgasm until you’re boneless and barely there.

But he’s not done. Seungcheol eases out carefully and shifts you onto your back. You blink, starry eyed and warm as you watch him slide down the bed and settle between your legs. Your thighs fall open at the sight of him and he groans, pleased at how you immediately know what he wants, ready to comply with your alpha.

No. Not your alpha. But he is right now and that’s all that matters.

Any fight on that subject vanishes as he kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs. His eyes are dark and burning when he looks up at you, pupils wide.

“Need to taste you,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Then, his mouth is one you, tongue dragging through your folds, lapping at the mess left over from your orgasm. It’s filthy, the way he moans into you, lips and chin glistening as he buries his face in your cunt. But it’s gentle, his tongue slow and worshipful, circling your clit.

It’s soothing, the way he moves, tongue tracing lazy patterns, circling your clit with no pressure, just presence. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there, grounding you further. Your fingers find his hair, threading loosely, not pulling, just holding, and he groans softly, the sound muffled against you. The ache in your core softens, not gone but eased, replaced by a warm, liquid comfort that spreads through your limbs.

Seungcheol mouths at you with no purpose other than to soothe and because he can. He doesn’t seem focused on getting you off, isn’t trying to overstimulate you. It builds a soft glow anyway, your breathing hitching as he keeps going, tongue dipping lower to taste your entrance, letting you drift toward the edge without pushing you toward it.

“Taste so good,” Seungcheol mumbles, mouth full of you.

This time, your orgasm comes like a tide, not crashing but rising, warm and steady. You whimper, hips shifting and he holds you steady, one hand sliding up to lace his fingers with yours. You squeeze his hand tight, letting him keep you tethered as you come undone, throbbing softly. He drinks you in, tongue lapping and slow, easing you until you’re limp and sated, the ache finally gone.

Seungcheol pulls back, mouth glistening neon in the low light. His eyes are heavy with something that you can’t read. When he crawls back up, you realize he’s come untouched, spilling his own release while getting you off. It makes your chest tighten, instincts purring at the proof of his want, his devotion to you.

He slides in beside you, kissing your temple before pulling you close.

“Better?” He rumbles, already half asleep.

“Better.”

“You have to eat.”

You huff. “Don’t want.”

You’re curled up on the couch in one of his jackets, inhaling deeply. His scent makes you tired, limbs heavy. You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to make yourself small. The blanket over your shoulders is warm and smells like him, making you sink further into the cushions.

Across the room, Seungcheol watches with thinly veiled amusement. He holds a steaming bowl in one hand, a spoon in the other. You love him like this, hair fluffy and still damp from a shower, glasses pushed high on the bridge of his nose as he glares at you.

“You need to eat,” he repeats gently. It has to be the third or fourth time he’s said it, each time just as gentle as the last.

You grumble and turn away from him, hiding in your blankets. He sighs and pads over to you, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. Shirtless Seungcheol is a weapon in itself, but the way you smell him immediately, can tell he’s using pheromones against you, makes you growl at him. There’s no heat in it and he laughs.

“Yeah?” He teases. “Gonna growl at me?”

“I’m tired.”

“I know,” he coos, voice dropping into that low, soft register that always seems to settle you. “Your body is working hard. But you still need to eat something, baby. For me.”

“Meh.”

“I’ll feed you.”

That sparks your interest. You peek out from your blankets with one eye, peering at him. He smiles, dimples appearing when he sees he’s got you listening now. His scent wraps around you, luring you deeper into his spell.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll start pouting. I don’t care if I’m an alpha, I’m good at pouting.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. The image of him pouting is sweet. His smile grows, triumphant as he stands up to sit next to you on the couch. You sit up, squirming toward him.

“There she is,” he hums, happy. “Open up that pretty mouth for me.”

Blue light flickers from the TV while golden light of the afternoon sun washes the room, peeking through the blinds. You’re curled into Seungcheol’s side, his arm around your shoulders and your legs tangled together beneath the shared blanket. Jurassic Park plays quietly in the background because you asked for something familiar, something comforting.

Your heat is finally starting to fade, edging toward Stage 3. The decline leaves you exhausted, but the full haze of Stage 2 is lifting, leaving you with less thoughts of tangled bodies and tongues. You can feel it in the way your body no longer aches with desperation, clarity seeping in like a slow tide.

With the clarity comes unease. Because… Well, what now?

Neither of you have brought it up, the what happens next. Everything still feels good, but it also feels fragile, like you’re balancing in the quiet moment between inhale and exhale, waiting for the next breath to shatter whatever this little bubble you’re in.

Your fingers fidget lightly against his chest. He notices, as he always does, and his hand smooths down your arm in slow, comforting passes. You lean into him instinctively - you don’t know how you will ever unlearn this - basking in his warmth.

But your thoughts keep spinning.

You don’t know how to voice the big question, don’t know how to talk about it. Don’t know what the best approach is. So you pretend it isn’t there, staring at the TV screen with unseeing eyes, thoughts burning you from the inside out.

Seungcheol senses it anyway.

“What’s up?” He asks, lips pressed against the top of your head. His eyes are still on the screen, the movie reflected in the lense of his glasses.

“Did you know the stegosaurus had brains the size of walnuts?” You ask suddenly, eyes fixed. “Built like a bus with a very small brain. It was like two ounces.”

“Really?”

You nod, grateful he doesn’t question why you’re talking about dinosaurs again. “Yep. For years people thought they had a second brain somewhere near the anus.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m serious. There’s an enlarged area near their hips and early scientists thought it must have been for a second brain because they couldn’t believe something with so much mass could operate with such a small brain. Turns out it wasn’t an ass-brain.”

He huffs. “Ass-brain would have been cool.”

“Right? I always hated that people thought they were docile too. They literally have massive spiked tails as a built in morning star and could beat predators' asses. People need to put respect on them.”

“Hmm. Sounds like we’re talking about more than dinosaurs here.”

You go quiet. Your eyes flick toward the screen, but you’re not really seeing it. He’s not wrong. You chew your bottom lip, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

Of course it isn’t just about dinosaurs. You’ve always admired creatures like that, misunderstood, underestimated. Not flashy, not predators, not something people are afraid of on instinct, but fierce all the same. Stubborn. Ready to dig their heels in and fight if they had to.

Which is why you liked the stegosaur. You resonated with that. Maybe not the smartest or the strongest, but never easy to push over, always ready to bare teeth when push came to shove. It was why you liked working for Jeonghan, too, seeing a lot of that fight in him.

Which brings you back to thinking about work, and that tomorrow is a new work day, and your heat will most likely be fully complete. And you’ll have to go back to… normal?

You don’t know.

“Why are you so nervous?” Seungcheol asks, bringing you out of your reverie. You look at him, eyes wide. He gives you a soft smile. “What, think I didn’t notice?”

You hesitate. His face is open. Honest. He’s giving you no reason to hold back, no reason to hide from him. But what you have to say is scary.

You take a deep breath and think about the stegosaurus. “Because my heat is fading. And I know things felt intense and - to me - special. I just… what happens after?”

“What do you mean?”

Tears prick your eyes and you curse your hormones for making you emotional. “When my heat is over, what then? We go back to normal? I’m… I don’t know. Having a heat partner is new to me, and I’m not begging you to stay or make you feel bad, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts, catching your face in his hands. His eyes are round, gentle. “I’m going to be honest, nothing is changing for me when your heat is over.”

You blink in surprise. See nervousness flicker across his face when he says carefully, “I stayed because I wanted to help you. I - look, I was already a little soft for you. Now that I’m here, I like being with you, heat or no. Even when you’re talking about dinosaur ass-brains.”

That makes you laugh and his smile lights up the room. “Really?”

“Really, baby.”

His thumb brushes across your cheek, catching a single salty tear. “Unless you don’t want-”

“I want,” you insist. “I want so much. I have never wanted this much in my life.”

“Then I’ll stay. I’m yours.”

“Even if I start talking about ass-brains?”

“Even then.”

The air in the room shifts, charged with something warm and unspoken. You move without thinking, surging forward and climbing into his lap where he sits on the couch. The soft fabric of his shirt brushes your thighs as you straddle him, your hands settling on his shoulders. He feels solid and warm beneath you.

Seungcheol’s hands find your hips, pulling you closer. Your forehead rests against his, breathes mingling, and for a second, you just stay there. Savoring the intimacy. Savoring his scent, bergamot and cardamom.

“You’re sure?” You ask, voice small.

“Very sure.”

His hands slip upward, slow, under the hem of his hoodie. His fingers graze the sensitive skin of your waist, making you shiver as heat pools low between your legs. You lean in and kiss him softly, lips brushing, then pressing, slow and deliberate.

You deepen the kiss, unhurried. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, tasting you, opening you up. You shift, grinding down on him gently, feeling the hardening length of him through his sweats. He makes a sound, soft and low, and it buzzes through your mouth. You feel yourself grow wet against your underwear and he sucks in a sharp breath, catching it.

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are fathomless but warm. His hands push the hoodie up and over your head, baring your chest to him. His eyes flicker and he curses. “You’re so perfect.”

You flush, shy under his gaze. His lips find your collarbone, kissing softly before drifting lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your breast. Your head falls back as the cool air hits you, your eyes closed.

He takes a nipple into his wanting mouth, tongue swirling, sucking gently. You gasp, hips rocking instinctively, grinding harder against him. The friction is delicious. He groans against your skin, sending sparks through you.

Seungcheol’s hands stay on your hips, encouraging your slow, rolling movements. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t push. It’s soft, the couch slightly creaking under the weight of you.

His mouth moves to the swell of your other break, lavishing it with the same care. His teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. You feel slick drip down your thighs, not as heavily as before, but still just as ready for him.

“Cheol,” you breath, voice shaky.

He hums, lips sealed around your nipple. The wet buzz of his mouth makes you grind on him faster, chasing the heat in your belly.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look up at you, eyes glassy. “Love watching you like this. Love feeling you. Want you like this.”

He pulls back just enough to tug at his sweatpants, shoving them down his thighs, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening. You bite your lip, the sight making your core clench, and he catches the look, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth.

Carefully, he helps you kick your sweatpants off. You sit back in his lap, not bothering with your underwear. He pushes them to the side with a careful finger, his knuckle deliberately dragging over the wet heat of your pussy.

“Fuck. Wet.”

You nod as he grabs the base of his cock, helping you sit high on your knees. He rubs the rib through your messy folds, both of you moaning in unison before the head catches your entrance and sticks. You sink down, taking him slowly, the stretch punching the breath from your lungs.

His shirt stays on, bunched where you fist it against his chest. It is work, sitting on him fully. You feel him deep in your stomach, your breath turning ragged. You savor the fullness, hands tangled in his shirt.

Taking a deep breath, you start to move. His hands grip your hips, not controlling but encouraging, letting you set whatever pace you want. His cock drags against your walls, smooth and fluid. His lips find your chest, mouthing at a nipple, sucking gently.

Your nails dig into him through the fabric of his shirt, the wet heet of his mouth, the press of his cock, all of it driving you mad, sticky with sweat as you continue to use him however you want.

He lets you, content to suck and mouth at your chest all the while. The couch creaks faintly, a quiet underscore to the soft filth of it all, your slick coating him, dripping down to soak his sweatpants, the way his shirt clings to his sweat-damp chest.

Pleasure builds, slow and warm, a glow that starts in your core and spreads. You grind deeper, chasing it, and he groans, head tipping back, eyes half-lidded but never leaving you.

“How could I ever wanna leave this?” He asks. “How could I ever want anything but the perfect omega?”

The words, the way he says them, tip you over, and your orgasm comes soft but deep, a gentle pulse that has you trembling, walls clenching around him, a quiet moan spilling from your lips.

The way you tighten pushes him to the edge, and he groans, low and broken, thrusting up once, twice, before he comes, hot and thick inside you. His hands grip you tighter, pulling you close, and you collapse against him, panting, forehead pressed to his, the fabric of his shirt sticking to your skin.

“Mine,” he assures you, giving you a gentle kiss. “Ass-brain and all.”

“Please,” you laugh.

That single word makes him melt, makes him all soft at the edges. “Anything for you, baby.”

The office feels noticeably cooler when you return, the hum of the air conditioning a welcome sound after days away. Cold air brushes the back of your neck as you step off the elevator, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth on your skin, not from the building, but from Seungcheol following close behind you.

Seungcheol’s presence is unmistakable. And people notice.

Jeonghan is the first. He’s perched near Wonwoo’s cubicle, half-lounging on the edge when he glances up and spots you. His gaze flicks from you to Seungcheol, then back again. His eyes widen. A slow grin spreads across his face, and he immediately points a finger.

“You-”

“Not a word,” Seungcheol warns, voice low as he slides a steadying hand to the small of your back and gently guides you toward your desk. Your cheeks heat, teeth sinking into your cheek to suppress a laugh as Jeonghan starts bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“We’re just walking, Jeonghan,” you mumble, feeling anything but casual.

“You’re glowing!”

Wonwoo straightens in his chair, peering over his cubicle wall. His brow lifts as he spots Seungcheol casting a warning glance back at Jeonghan, lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk.

“I knew it,” Jeonghan asserts, looking at you and nodding. “He’s always thought you were the cutest omega. Does he know you’re obsessed with dinosaurs yet?”

“Ugh, Jeonghan.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol confirms with a flat grin. “You remind me of a Stegosaur, Jeonghan. Very… you have similar brains.”

You snort before slapping your hand over your mouth in horror.

Jeonghan saints at him. “I don’t get it.”

Seungcheol ignores him, turning to you instead. He brushes his fingers against your arm, and his gaze softens instantly, all gruffness melted into something warm and fond. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nod, smiling despite yourself as he walks away calm. Sure. Unmistakably yours.

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#seungcheol smut #scoups smut #scoups fanfic #svt smut #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fic #seungcheol x you #svt fanfic #svt fic #seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #scoups x reader #seungcheol imagines #alpha seungcheol #alpha scoups #svt omegaverse

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physalian · 11 months ago

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How To Make Your Writing Less Stiff 5

Movement

Dredging this back up from way back.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much during heavy dialogue scenes. E.g. two characters sitting and talking—do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them…

Gesture

Wave

Frown

Laugh

Cross their legs/their arms

Shift around to get comfortable

Pound the table

Roll their eyes

Point

Shrug

Touch their face/their hair

Wring their hands

Pick at their nails

Yawn

Stretch

Sniff/sniffle

Tap their fingers/drum

Bounce their feet

Doodle

Fiddle with buttons or jewelry

Scratch an itch

Touch their weapons/gadgets/phones

Check the time

Get up and sit back down

Move from chair to tabletop

The list goes on.

Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t—what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

As in, you could say “he’s nervous” or you could show, “He fidgets, constantly glancing at the clock as sweat beads at his temples.”

This site is full of discourse on telling vs showing so I’ll leave it at that.

Epithets

In the Sci-fi WIP that shall never see the light of day, I had a flashback arc for one male character and his relationship with another male character. On top of that, the flashback character was a nameless narrator for Reasons.

Enter the problem: How would you keep track of two male characters, one who you can't name, and the other who does have a name, but you can’t oversaturate the narrative with it? I did a few things.

Nameless Narrator (written in 3rd person limited POV) was the only narrator for the flashback arc. I never switched to the boyfriend’s POV.

Boyfriend had only a couple epithets that could only apply to him, and halfway through their relationship, NN went from describing him as “the other prisoner” to “his cellmate” to “his partner” (which was also a double entendre). NN also switched from using BF’s full name to a nickname both in narration and dialogue.

BF had a title for NN that he used exclusively in dialogue, since BF couldn’t use his given name and NN hadn’t picked a new one for himself.

Every time the subject of the narrative switched, I started a new paragraph so “he” never described either character ambiguously mid-paragraph.

Is this an extreme example? Absolutely, but I pulled it off according to my betas.

The point of all this is this: Epithets shouldn’t just exist to substitute an overused name. Epithets de-personalize the subject if you use them incorrectly. If your narrator is thinking of their lover and describing that person without their name, then the trait they pick to focus on should be something equally important to them. In contrast, if you want to drive home how little a narrator thinks of somebody, using depersonalizing epithets helps sell that disrespect.

Fanfic tends to be the most egregious with soulless epithets like "the black-haired boy" that tell the reader absolutely nothing about how the narrator feels about that black-haired boy, espeically if they're doing so during a highly-emotional moment.

As in, NN and BF had one implied sex scene. Had I said “the other prisoner” that would have completely ruined the mood. He’s so much more than “the other prisoner” at that point in the story. “His partner,” since they were both a combat team and romantically involved, encompassed their entire relationship.

The epithet also changed depending on what mood or how hopeless NN saw their situation. He’d wax and wane over how close he believed them to be for Reasons. NN was a very reserved character who kept BF at a distance, afraid to go “all in” because he knew there was a high chance of BF not surviving this campaign. So NN never used “his lover”.

All to say, epithets carried the subtext of that flashback arc, when I had a character who would not talk about his feelings. I could show you the progression of their relationship through how the epithets changed.

I could show you whenever NN was being a big fat liar about his feelings when he said he's not in love, but his narration gave him away. I could show you the exact moment their relationship shifted from comrades to something more when NN switched mid-paragraph from "his cellmate" to "his partner" and when he took up BF's nickame exclusively in the same scene.

I do the same thing in Eternal Night when Elias, my protagonist, stops referring to Dorian as "it" and "the vampire" instead of his name the moment they collide with a much more dangerous vampire, so jarringly that Elias notices in his own narration—the point of it being so explicit is that this degredation isn't automatic, it's something he has to conciously do, when everyone else in his clan wouldn't think twice about dehumanizing them.

—

Any literary device should be used with intent if you want those layers in your work. The curtains are rarely just blue. Whether it’s a simile with a deliberate comparison or an epithet with deliberate connotations, your readers will pick up on the subtext, I promise.

#writing #writing advice #writing a book #writing resources #writeblr #writing tips #writing tools #literary devices #character description #character development

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malcolmschmitz · 7 months ago

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The Insider and Outsider Detectives

So there's a lot of discourse about detectives floating around, ever since 2020 shifted a lot of people's Views on the police. Everyone likes a good mystery story, but no one seems to know what to make of a detective protagonist- especially if they're a cop. And everyone who cares about this kind of thing likes to argue over whether detective stories hold up the existing order or subvert it. Are they inherently copaganda? Are they subversive commentary on the uselessness of the police?

I think they can be both. And I think there's a framework we can use to look at individual detectives, and their stories, that illuminates the space between "a show like LAPD straight-up exists to make the cops look good" and "Boy Detective is a gender to me, actually".

So. You can sort most detectives in fiction into two boxes, based on their role in society: the Insider Detective and the Outsider Detective.

The Insider Detective is a part of the society they're investigating in, and has access to at least some of the levers of power in that society. They can throw money at their problems, or call in reinforcements, and if they contact the authorities, those authorities will take them seriously. Even the people they're investigating usually treat them with respect. They're a nice normal person in a nice normal world, thank you very much; they're not particularly eccentric. You could describe them as "sensible". And crime is a threat to that normal world. It's an intrusion that they have to fight off. An Insider Detective solving a crime is restoring the way things ought to be.

Some clear-cut examples of Insider Detectives are the Hardy Boys (and their father Fenton), Soichiro "Light's Dad" Yagami, or Father Brown. Many police procedural detectives are Insider Detectives, though not all.

The Outsider Detective, in contrast, is not a part of the society they're investigating in. They're often a marginalized person- they're neurodivergent, or elderly, or foreign, or a woman in a historical setting, or a child. They don't have access to any of the levers of power in their world- the authorities may not believe them (and might harass them), the people they're investigating think they're a joke (and can often wave them off), and they're unlikely to have access to things like "a forensics lab". The Outsider Detective is not respectable, and not welcome here- and yet they persist and solve the crime anyway. A lot of the time, when an Outsider Detective solves a crime, it's less "restoring the world to its rightful state" and more "exposing the rot in the normal world, and forcing it to change."

Some clear-cut examples of Outsider Detectives are Dirk Gently, Philip Marlowe, Sammy Keyes, or Mello from Death Note.

Now, here's the catch: these aren't immutable categories, and they are almost never clear-cut. The same detective can be an Insider Detective in one setting and an Outsider Detective in another. A good writer will know this, and will balance the two to say something about power and society.

Tumblr's second-favourite detective Benoit Blanc is a great example of this. Theoretically, Mr. Blanc should be an Insider Detective- he's a world-famous detective, he collaborates with the police, he's odd but respectable. But because of the circumstances he's in- investigating the ultra-rich, who live in their own horrid little bubbles- he comes off as the Outsider Detective, exposing the rot and helping everyone get what they deserve. And that's deliberate. There is no world where a nice, slightly eccentric, mildly fruity, fairly privileged guy like Benoit Blanc should be an outsider. But the turbo-rich live in such an insular world, full of so much contempt for anyone who isn't Them, that even Benoit Blanc gets left out in the cold. It's a scathing political statement, if you think about it.

But even a writer who isn't trying to Say Something About The World will still often veer between making their detective an Insider Detective and an Outsider Detective, because you can tell different kinds of stories within those frameworks. Jessica Fletcher from Murder She Wrote is a really good example of this-- she's a respectable older lady, whose runaway success as a mystery novelist gives her access to some social cachet. Key word: some.

Within her hometown of Cabot Cove, Fletcher is an Insider Detective. She's good friends with the local sheriff, she's incredibly familiar with the town's social dynamics, she can call in a favour from basically anyone... but she's still a little old lady. The second she leaves town, she might run into someone who likes her books... but she's just as likely to run into a police officer who thinks she's crazy or a perp who thinks she's an easy target. She has the incredibly tenuous social power that belongs to a little old lady that everyone likes- and when that's gone, she's incredibly vulnerable.

This is also why a lot of Sherlock Holmes adaptations tend to be so... divisive. Holmes is all things to all people, and depending on which stories you choose to focus on, you can get a very different detective. If you focus on the stories where Holmes collaborates with the police, on the stories with that very special kind of Victorian racism, or the stories where Holmes is fighting Moriarty, you've got an Insider Detective. If you focus on the stories where Holmes is consulting for a Nice Young Lady, on the stories where Holmes' neurodivergence is most prominent, or on his addictions, you've got an Outsider Detective.

Finally, a lot of buddy detective stories have an Insider Detective and an Outsider Detective sharing the spotlight. Think Scully and Mulder, or Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde. This lets the writer play with both pieces of the thematic puzzle at the same time, without sacrificing the consistency of their detective's character.

Back to my original point: if you like detective fiction, you probably like one kind of story better than the other. I know I personally really prefer Outsider Detective Stories to Insider Detective Stories- and while I can enjoy a good Insider Detective (I'd argue that Brother Cadfael, my beloved, is one most of the time), I seek out detectives who don't quite fit into the world they live in more often than not.

And if that's the vibe you're looking for... you're not going to run into a lot of police stories. It's absolutely possible to make a story where a cop (or, even better, an FBI agent) is an Outsider Detective-- Nick Angel from Hot Fuzz was originally going to be one of my 'clear-cut examples' until I remembered that he is, in fact, legally a cop! But a cop who's an Outsider Detective is going to be spending a lot of time butting heads with local law enforcement, to the point where he doesn't particularly feel like one. He's probably going to get fired at some point, and even if his badge gets reinstated, he's going to struggle with his place in the world. And a lot of Outsider Detective stories where the detective is a cop or an FBI agent are intensely political, and not in a conservative way- they have Things To Say about small towns, clannishness, and the injustice that can happen when a Pillar Of The Community does something wrong and everyone looks the other way. (Think Twin Peaks or The Wicker Man.)

Does this mean Insider Detective Stories are Bad Copaganda and Outsider Detective Stories are Good Revolutionary Stories? No. If you take one thing away from this post, please make it that these categories are morally neutral. There are Outsider Detective stories about cops who are Outsiders because they really, really want an excuse to shoot people. There are Insider Detective stories about little old people who are trying to keep misapplied justice from hurting the kids in their community. Neither of these types of stories are good or bad on their own. They're different kinds of storytelling framework and they serve different purposes.

But, if you find yourself really gravitating to certain kinds of mysteries and really put off by other kinds, and you're trying to express why, this might be a framework that's useful for you. If your gender is Boy Detective, but you absolutely loathe cop stories? This might be why.

(PS: @anim-ttrpgs was posting about their game Eureka again, and that got me to make this post- thank them if you're happy to finally see it. Eureka is designed as an Outsider Detective simulator, and so the rules actively forbid you from playing as a cop- they're trying to make it so that you have limited resources and have to rely on your own competence. It's a fantastic looking game and I can't recommend it enough.)

(PPS: I'm probably going to come back to this once I finish Psycho-Pass with my partner, because they said I'd probably have Thoughts.)

(PPPS: Encyclopedia Brown is an Insider Detective, and that's why no one likes him. This is my most controversial detective take.)

#detectives #detective fiction #sherlock holmes #agatha christie #benoit blanc #knives out #hot fuzz #murder she wrote #jessica fletcher #death note #...i'm not tagging EVERY DETECTIVE HERE gods have mercy #on writing

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avatarthelastairgender · 6 months ago

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saw a post where someone was saying they liked the wicked movie and someone else (a stranger to the OP as far as i can tell) responded with a condescending comment making fun of them. and there was some discourse back and forth because the person who liked the movie was a woman and the person making fun of her was a man, about whether it was misogynistic etc etc, and then there was a second wave of comments like "making fun of base consumerism isn't misogynistic and you should be concerned about the attempts to equate women with mass culture consumption, this was actually a critique of popular culture etc etc" and i think all of this can be boiled down to a much simpler answer which is that there is no great political harm or benefit to the post one way or another, but rather it's just kind of a representation of how basic social etiquette has been a bit warped online, because quote tweeting a random stranger enjoying themselves to make fun of them isn't misogynistic but it is just sort of socially maladjusted and rude.

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imsobadatnicknames2 · 1 year ago

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Wish I had been able to articulate this sooner but the current wave of discourse about Cozy Wholesome Farming Games really shows once again that a lot of people's metric for the line that divides "smart person doing good, thoughtful analysis" from "terminally online freak looking too deep into into shit to start pointless discourse" is when they look deep enough to find something to criticize in a Popular Thing.

Like. The takes "Stardew Valley is an anticapitalist tale about the importance of community because in it the members of this small rural community band together to kick out the Costco analogue" and "The fantasy of landwonership on which games like Stardew Valley are predicated on is kinda bourgeois and the fact that it's considered politically neutral enough to be a common subject matter for games explicitly labelling themselves as Cozy or Wholesome speaks to how entrenched it is in our our culture and art" attribute roughly equivalent weight and importance to the politics of a cutesy farming game, but one of them is very popular and widely liked and the other gets you anons like "Uhm it's literally just a hecking cute farming simularino!? Touch grass lol you should be at the club lol do you even enjoy stuff lol not everything is politics are you really trying to make my heckin' farmerino simulator problematic? Stop looking for politics in everything you're just looking for stuff to get mad at you are a tar pit" etc etc etc

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callsigns-haze · 6 months ago

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Lost that mothering feeling

Summary: The more your kids grew up the more you've lost that mother feeling and Bob, being your perfect husband, brought it back for more than one night.

Warning: feeling worn out, feeling overwhelmed, pregnancy, pregnancy test.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader

The living room is alive with the hum of laughter and conversation, your four kids seated around a makeshift studio of microphones and cameras. Alex and Max, your eighteen-year-old twins, are debating something enthusiastically—most likely their usual heated discourse about the latest sci-fi show they’ve been obsessed with. Theo, your fifteen-year-old, leans back in his chair, effortlessly tossing in sarcastic comments that make his brothers groan. And then there’s Matilda or also known as Tilly. At eleven, your youngest is sprawled on the couch, mic in hand, her big eyes sparkling with mischief as she waits for her moment to steal the show.

You’re in the kitchen, fingers flying over your laptop keyboard as you work on the latest chapter of your romantasy series, the one that’s catapulted you to stardom. The scent of fresh coffee lingers in the air, a half-full mug sitting forgotten beside you. The click-clack of keys is soothing, grounding—until Tilly’s voice pierces the air.

“I nearly died today.”

The boys freeze mid-conversation, their attention snapping to her. “What?” Theo demands, his voice pitched higher than usual.

“How?” Max asks, leaning forward, concern creeping into his tone.

“Good.” Came from Alex.

Tilly waves a hand nonchalantly, twirling the cord of her mic. “I don’t know. I just got bored of that topic.”

Alex groans, dropping his head into his hands while Theo mutters something about needing a refund on her drama classes. Max, ever the patient one, shakes his head, muttering, “You can’t just drop that and move on, Tilly.”

A smile tugs at your lips as you listen, the corner of your heart warmed by their camaraderie. You glance toward the living room, watching as Tilly shrugs and dives into a completely unrelated story, her brothers laughing and rolling their eyes.

The sound of the front door opening is soft—practically silent—but you catch it. Bob’s always been like that, moving quietly as if afraid to disrupt the calm. It’s something you adore about him, even if it sometimes works a little too well.

“Hey,” you say without looking up, sensing his presence before you see him.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice low and warm.

You’re about to turn around when his hands brush your waist, making you jump slightly. “Bobby!” you exclaim, laughing as your fingers hover over the keyboard.

He chuckles softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips. It’s brief but tender, and it makes your heart flutter the way it has since you were sixteen.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, though the small smile playing at his lips tells you he’s anything but.

You turn in your chair to face him, meeting his soft blue eyes. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, his brow furrowing just slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice laced with quiet concern.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of his attention, the way he can see through you even when you try to hide. “Nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “I just—I’m going to go shower. Be right back.”

Before he can protest, you stand and kiss him on the cheek, retreating upstairs. The sound of your kids’ laughter follows you, a comforting reminder of the life you’ve built together. But as you step into the bathroom and close the door, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Bob leans into the living room doorway, still clad in his flight suit, his nametag and patches catching the warm glow of the lamps. His usually calm demeanour is replaced with a firmness that immediately commands attention.

“Alright, guys,” he says, his tone sharper than usual, “wrap it up. You’ve got five minutes.”

The twins groan in unison, Max throwing his hands up dramatically. “Dad, we’re live!”

Theo adds, “Yeah, you can’t just barge in like that. It’s a podcast, not a family meeting.”

But Bob doesn’t budge, his blue eyes steady as he crosses his arms. “Five minutes,” he repeats, leaving no room for argument.

The chat on their live stream explodes.

“OMG, who is THAT?!” “Is their dad a PILOT???” “The FLIGHT SUIT? Hello???” “Dad just alpha’d the room, I’m crying.” “Wait, that's their dad, Robert? I thought he was supposed to be shy???”

Bob’s presence, authoritative yet quiet, always had that effect, and even now.

Tilly, unfazed by the shift in tone, bounds over to Bob and throws her arms around his waist, burying her face in his flight suit. “You’re home!” she says brightly, looking up at him with adoration.

Bob’s expression softens immediately, his hand coming to rest gently on the back of her head. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m home.”

Theo, still seated on the couch, smirks and mutters just loud enough to be heard, “Favouritism much?”

The chat picks up on it instantly.

“Theo called it lmao.” “Tilly’s the favourite CONFIRMED.” “Theo and his middle-child energy, I can’t.” “FAVORITISM??? Dad’s girl for sure.”

Bob sighs, glancing at Theo with a small shake of his head. “You’ve all got five minutes,” he says again, but this time his voice is quieter, more measured.

Tilly beams at him, sticking her tongue out at Theo before turning back to Bob. “Are you staying for dinner?” she asks, completely ignoring the chaos in the living room and the chat still lighting up with messages.

Bob leans down slightly to meet her gaze. “Of course, Tills. Go finish up with your brothers.”

Satisfied, she scampers back to her spot, and Bob steps into the kitchen to give them space, though his presence lingers like a steadying anchor in the house.

Bob stands in the kitchen for a moment, his arms crossed as he listens to the faint hum of voices from the living room. The kids are finishing up, just as he’d instructed, but his focus isn’t on them. It’s on you—how you seemed distant, how you avoided his question and slipped away upstairs.

His jaw tightens, a flicker of worry sparking in his chest. He knows you too well; something’s not right. Without hesitation, he pushes off the counter and heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

The house is quieter as he approaches the bathroom door, the sound of the shower running faint but steady. He knocks lightly, his knuckles brushing the wood.

“Sweetheart?” he calls, his voice low but firm enough to carry through the door.

There’s no immediate response, just the continued rush of water. Bob’s brow furrows as he leans closer, his hand resting on the doorknob. “You okay in there?” he asks again, concern threading through his words.

This time, your voice answers, muffled but audible. “I’m fine, Bob. I’ll be out in a minute.”

But he doesn’t buy it. Bob’s always been patient, the kind of man who gives space when it’s needed, but not tonight. Tonight, something feels off, and he’s not about to let it fester.

He cracks the door open just enough to speak without shouting. The warm steam drifts out, curling around him. “I’m coming in,” he says gently, giving you enough time to protest. When you don’t, he steps inside, careful not to startle you.

Through the frosted glass, he can see your silhouette, your head bowed under the stream of water. His heart tightens at the sight—it’s not like you to look so small, so defeated.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice soft as he crouches slightly to your level, even though there’s a door between you. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You sigh, your voice barely audible over the water. “I just needed a minute, Bob. I’m okay, really.”

But he stays put, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the shower door. “You sure? Because you didn’t seem okay downstairs.”

For a moment, there’s only silence, and then you turn off the water. Grabbing a towel, you wrap it around yourself and open the door, your eyes meeting his. They’re glassy, unsure, and his stomach twists at the sight.

“I’ll be fine,” you say softly, but Bob doesn’t look convinced. He reaches out, his fingers brushing your damp hair back from your face.

“Angel,” he says, his voice steady and grounding, “you don’t have to carry it alone. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

You sigh, clutching the towel tighter around you as you sit on the closed toilet lid, Bob crouched in front of you. His hands rest on your knees, his touch warm and grounding, but you struggle to meet his gaze. The lump in your throat feels almost too big to speak around, but his quiet presence gives you the courage to finally let the words out.

“I don’t feel like… like a mom anymore,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I am, obviously. But I feel like I’ve lost that mother feeling, you know?”

Bob’s brow furrows, concern deepening in his blue eyes. He doesn’t say anything yet, just lets you keep going.

“They’re so independent now, Robert. Alex and Max are practically adults. Theo doesn’t need me for much anymore. Even Tilly… she’s off doing her own thing, and she’s only eleven. And I—” Your voice catches, and you shake your head, tears welling up despite your best efforts to hold them back. “I just feel like I’ve been replaced. By their friends, by their hobbies, even by each other. They don’t need me the way they used to.”

Bob’s hands tighten gently on your knees, his touch a silent reminder that he’s right here. “Angel…”

“And it’s not just that,” you continue, the words spilling out like a confession. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my work lately. The deadlines, the tours, the next book… it’s like I’ve traded being their mom for being… well, me and if I can do it again. And now, I don’t know if I’m doing enough for them. Or if they even see me the same way anymore.”

Bob leans closer, his voice soft but firm. “Hey, stop that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

You finally meet his eyes, and the depth of understanding there nearly undoes you.

“You’ve been their mom every second of every day since the moment they were born,” he says. “And just because they’re growing up and finding their own way doesn’t mean they don’t need you. They do. More than you realize. And as for your work…” He pauses, brushing a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You’re showing them what it means to chase your dreams and still be there for the people you love. That’s not losing anything—that’s giving them something incredible to look up to.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words sinking in even as the doubts linger. “What if it’s not enough, Bob?”

He smiles softly, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It is. It always has been. And it always will be.”

His reassurance washes over you like a balm, soothing the ache in your chest. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his, and his arms come around you.

You pull back slightly, still wrapped in Bob’s steady embrace, and let out a heavy sigh. “I just… I feel so old and used up, Bob.”

His brow furrows, his hands resting on your shoulders now as he studies your face with that quiet, unwavering focus that has always made you feel both seen and understood. “What are you talking about? You’re only thirty-six,” he says softly, like he’s trying to remind you of something you’ve forgotten.

“Exactly,” you reply, your voice tinged with frustration, “I’m only thirty-six, but I feel like I’ve lived three lifetimes already. Everything happened so quickly. We got married young, had the twins before we even had a chance to figure out who we were as adults, and then… it was just one thing after another. Kids, work, responsibilities—it never stopped. And now I look in the mirror, and I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

Bob’s face softens, his hands sliding down your arms to hold yours. “Sweetheart…”

“I love our life,” you continue, your voice breaking. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But sometimes, I just feel… worn out. Like I gave everything I had to everyone else, and now there’s nothing left for me. Not even enough to feel like me anymore.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but not in a way that feels dismissive. He’s absorbing your words, weighing them carefully before responding. “You’ve been through so much, and you’ve carried so much,” he says finally, his voice thick with emotion. “But you’re not used up. You’re… you’re still you. The same woman I fell in love with when we were kids, the same woman who raised four amazing kids with me, and the same woman who inspires people all over the world with her stories. You haven’t lost anything, baby. You’ve grown. And yeah, life’s been fast, but you’re not finished. You’ve still got so much ahead of you.”

Tears spill over, and you laugh softly through them. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy,” he admits, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me, always. And maybe… maybe it’s time we figured out how to make a little more room for you in all of this.”

You bite your lip, a fresh wave of emotion surging at his words. He reaches up, brushing your damp hair away from your face as he continues.

“Let me take some of the weight,” he says gently. “You’ve done so much for all of us. It’s okay to let yourself rest, to figure out what you need to feel like yourself again.”

A playful glint sparking in his blue eyes as a small smile tugs at his lips. “You know,” he starts, his voice light but teasing, “if you feel like you’ve lost the ‘mother’ feeling… we are still young. We could always have another.”

Your eyes widen, and you let out a startled laugh, swatting his arm. “Bobby...”

He chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. You’re only thirty-six, and I’m thirty-seven. We’ve still got plenty of energy left. And let’s face it—our kids turned out pretty great.”

“Bob,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him, though you can’t help the smile creeping across your face. “We have four kids. Four. And two of them are adults...you're comfortable with it? Seriously? You really want to start over?”

He grins, that soft, boyish charm you fell in love with shining through. “With you? Always.”

You roll your eyes, but his words warm your heart in a way that makes it hard to argue. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “But you’re smiling, so I must be doing something right.”

You shake your head, laughing softly as you lean against him. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

“Luckiest guy in the world,” he replies, wrapping his arms around you again. And for the first time that day, the weight on your shoulders feels just a little lighter.

His hands still resting on your arms, and his expression softens with a mix of determination and affection. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” he says, his voice steady but laced with that quiet warmth that always makes you feel safe. “You’re going to go to our room, get dressed—something warm and comfy—and don’t ask where we’re going because I’m not telling you.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Bob—”

“Nope,” he interrupts gently, shaking his head. “No arguments. I’ll handle the kids. I’ll make sure they’re dressed and ready too. You just focus on yourself for once, okay?”

The confidence in his words falters for a brief moment as a hint of shyness creeps in. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side before meeting your eyes again. “I mean, I—I just thought… maybe it’d be good to get everyone out of the house for a bit. Something different. Together.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you watch him, his nervousness only making you love him more. “You’re planning a surprise?”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. Just… trust me on this one, alright?”

You nod, feeling a flicker of excitement despite the heaviness that’s lingered in your chest all day. “Alright. Warm and comfy, huh?”

“Warm and comfy,” he confirms, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I’ll go tell the kids to get ready too.”

As he turns to head back downstairs, you catch the way his ears turn a little pink, a clear sign of how out of his comfort zone this is for him. It’s endearing, and for the first time in a while, you feel a spark of anticipation. Whatever he’s planning, you know it’s coming from his heart—and that makes all the difference.

Bob heads downstairs, his flight suit still slightly damp from the steam of the bathroom. As he steps into the living room, his expression tightens at the sight of the twins and Theo still sitting on the couch, chatting animatedly with the live-stream chat, and Tilly sprawled across an armchair, giggling at the screen.

“Guys,” he says, his tone firm, “I thought I told you to wrap this up.”

Alex glances up, one hand still fiddling with a microphone. “We did, kinda. We’re just saying goodbye to the chat.”

Bob exhales through his nose, his patience wearing thin. “It’s been more than five minutes.”

Max smirks, clearly unfazed. “Dad, it’s live. You can’t just drop off without a proper sign-off. It’s bad for engagement.”

“Engagement?” Bob repeats, his voice sharpening slightly. “What about engaging with the rules I gave you? I said wrap it up—not drag it out for another ten minutes.”

Theo mutters something under his breath, but Bob’s sharp gaze flicks to him, silencing whatever snarky comment was about to come out.

The twins exchange a look, and Max finally sighs. “Alright, alright. We’re logging off. Jeez.”

“Thank you,” Bob says curtly, crossing his arms.

The chat, of course, explodes.

“Omg Dad’s mad 😳” “Dad Mode: Activated” “Who’s braver? Alex and Max or the dad in the flight suit?” “Theo’s about to get grounded, y’all watch.” “Bob deserves a medal for dealing with them, lmao.”

Before the kids can start dragging their feet again, Bob gestures toward Tilly, who’s still watching the chaos unfold with wide eyes. “Tilly, go upstairs and start getting ready. Warm and comfy clothes. We’re heading out soon.”

Tilly hops up, skipping past him and giving him a quick hug on her way. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out,” Bob replies, his voice softening just slightly for her.

As she disappears up the stairs, Theo mutters under his breath, “Favouritism strikes again.”

Bob shoots him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Keep pushing, and I’ll make you sit in the middle seat when we go.”

The twins snicker, finally logging off the stream with a half-hearted apology to their audience. The chat’s parting messages are a mixture of humour and sympathy.

“Dad’s the boss, y’all better listen 😅” “Theo, blink twice if you need saving.” “We’re gonna need a podcast on this later 😂.”

Once the equipment is off and the kids are reluctantly shuffling upstairs to follow his instructions, Bob exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. They were good kids, but sometimes they tested his patience like no one else could.

Still, as he hears their footsteps above and the faint sound of their chatter, a small smile tugs at his lips. They might drive him crazy, but they were his—and tonight, he was determined to make it a special one for all of you.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands once to get their attention. “Everyone upstairs. Get dressed—warm and cozy. Layers. We’re heading out, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about being cold later.”

The twins groan in unison, clearly not thrilled about being told what to do again so soon.

“Warm and cozy? What, are we going to the North Pole?” Max quips, earning a laugh from Theo.

Bob raises an eyebrow, giving them a pointed look. “Do you want to spend the night figuring out if you’re funny, or do you want to actually go somewhere fun?”

That shuts them up, and they start heading toward the stairs, grumbling under their breath. Tilly bounces past them, already halfway up. “I’m gonna wear my fuzzy socks!” she calls over her shoulder.

“Good idea,” Bob mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

Once they’re all upstairs, he lets out a slow breath and heads to the hall closet, pulling out a jacket for himself before retreating to your shared bedroom. He makes quick work of changing out of his flight suit, swapping it for a thick sweater, jeans, and a pair of sturdy boots.

As he ties his laces, he pauses for a moment, glancing at the dresser where a photo of your family from years ago sits. The twins were barely out of diapers, Theo just a toddler, and you were holding Tilly, who had only been a few weeks old at the time. He smiles softly, shaking his head.

“Warm and cozy,” he mutters to himself with a chuckle. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

He grabs his coat and heads downstairs, ready to corral the kids and make sure everyone’s dressed and prepped for the night ahead.

When Bob comes back downstairs, the sound of laughter and mock indignation greets him from the living room. He steps into the room to find you standing in front of the twins, arms crossed, while they grin at you like they’ve won some invisible battle.

“I’m just saying,” Alex argues, hands up in a gesture of defence, “it’s not our fault we’re objectively the coolest kids in the family.”

“Coolest?” you repeat, feigning outrage. “You two barely survived kindergarten without trying to convince your teacher to let you start a podcast about dinosaurs. Theo and Tilly are way cooler than you ever were.”

“Hey!” Max jumps in, pointing dramatically. “That podcast idea was ahead of its time.”

“And,” Alex adds, “Theo’s cool, sure. But Tilly? She’s biased.”

Tilly, sitting proudly on the couch with her fuzzy socks pulled up to her knees, narrows her eyes at Alex. “I am not biased. Mom’s right—you two aren’t even in the top three coolest people in this house.”

Bob leans against the doorway, watching the playful back-and-forth with a small smile. He doesn’t interrupt at first, letting the warmth of the moment wash over him. You’re laughing, Tilly’s defending you like a tiny warrior, and even Theo, sitting nearby, is smirking at his older brothers’ expense.

Finally, Bob clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Are we ready to go, or is this turning into a full-blown trial?”

You glance over at him, a playful glint in your eye. “Bob, tell them they’ve lost all their cool points for arguing with me.”

Bob chuckles, stepping further into the room. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. But,” he adds, looking pointedly at Alex and Max, “if you don’t get your coats and boots on, I’m going to start deducting more points. And I don’t think you can afford that.”

The twins groan dramatically, but they head toward the door to grab their things. Tilly hops off the couch and skips over to Bob, hugging his waist. “I’m ready! And I’m still the coolest, right, Dad?”

Bob smiles down at her, resting a hand on her head. “Of course you are, sweetheart.”

Theo mutters from his spot on the couch, “Favoritism strikes again.”

Bob gives him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Careful, or you’ll be riding in the boot.”

Theo snorts but gets up, heading off to get dressed without further complaint.

“Alright,” Bob says, glancing back at you with a small smile.

Once everyone is dressed and bundled up, the family gathers by the front door. Bob grabs his keys from the hook while you zip up Tilly’s jacket, her fuzzy socks peeking out over the tops of her boots.

“Do we at least get a hint about where we’re going?” Alex asks, pulling on his gloves.

“Nope,” Bob says simply, shrugging into his own coat.

Max groans, dramatically dragging his feet toward the door. “This better be good. I could be streaming right now, you know.”

“You’ll survive,” you say, nudging him lightly as you grab your own scarf. “Besides, it’s family time. Be grateful.”

Theo grins as he slings a bag over his shoulder. “Bet it’s just a trip to the grocery store, and Dad’s hyping it up for no reason.”

Bob raises an eyebrow but doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he reaches for the door, holding it open for everyone. “Alright, let’s go. Out the door. No stragglers.”

Tilly skips ahead, her energy as boundless as ever. “If we’re going somewhere fun, I call dibs on sitting by Mom!”

“Not fair!” Max protests, but Alex grabs his arm, shaking his head.

“Let her have it. She’s the favorite right now anyway.”

Bob smirks at their bickering but doesn’t comment as he ushers everyone out into the crisp evening air. You pause for a moment on the doorstep, pulling your coat tighter around you as Bob locks the door behind you.

When he glances over, you catch the glimmer of quiet satisfaction in his eyes. Whatever he’s planned, you can tell he’s put thought into it—and for the first time all day, you feel a spark of anticipation.

He steps beside you, slipping his hand into yours. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you reply softly, giving his hand a small squeeze.

The drive is lively, the kids filling the car with chatter and guesses about where Bob is taking everyone. As the familiar sound of waves grows closer, you glance out the window, spotting the cliffs that overlook the beach.

When Bob finally parks the car, the confusion is palpable.

“The beach?” Max asks, raising an eyebrow as he steps out. “At night? In the middle of winter?”

Bob smirks as he rounds the car to join everyone, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “It’s not just the beach,” he says, his tone teasing. “It’s a competition.”

That gets their attention. The kids exchange glances, a mix of curiosity and scepticism, while you tilt your head at him. “A competition?” you echo.

Bob nods, gesturing toward the path leading down to the sand. “Here’s how it’s going to work. Max and Alex,” he points to the twins, “you’re on black shell duty. The more, the better. Theo and Tilly,” he continues, turning to your younger two, “you’re looking for big swirl shells. Anything that stands out.”

“What about you and Mom?” Theo asks, already intrigued.

Bob’s gaze softens as he glances at you, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “Your mom and I are on sea glass duty. The rarest pieces win bonus points.”

Tilly gasps in excitement, clapping her hands. “Yes! I’m gonna find the best shell ever and get to stomp all over Alex!”

Max rolls his eyes but grins despite himself. “This feels rigged. You and Mom are on the same team?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t make her the judge,” Bob retorts, his smirk widening. “Now, are we doing this, or are you all too scared to lose?”

The challenge is met with a chorus of “Game on!” and laughter as everyone grabs flashlights and heads down to the beach.

As the kids run ahead, their lights bouncing across the sand, you fall into step with Bob. “Sea glass, huh?” you ask, nudging his arm. “That’s what we’re hunting?”

He chuckles, his breath visible in the chilly night air. “Thought it’d give us a chance to stick together. Plus, you’ve always had an eye for the rare stuff.”

You smile, your earlier worries starting to melt away under the warmth of his thoughtfulness. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his hand into yours as the sound of laughter and waves fills the air, “but you love me for it.”

As the two of you walk along the shoreline, your flashlight sweeping the sand for glimmers of sea glass, you glance at Bob with a curious smile. “Alright,” you say, breaking the quiet. “What’s the real plot behind all this, Bob? You don’t usually spring surprise competitions on us.”

He chuckles softly, his gaze fixed on the waves for a moment before turning back to you. “The plot, huh?” He pauses, his voice thoughtful. “I just… I remembered a few things. Thought maybe this would make tonight feel special.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What things?”

Bob’s lips quirk in a small smile as he stops walking, turning to face you. “Like the first time you found sea glass,” he says quietly. “You were nine. Your friend lived on the coast and told you about it, and you spent hours combing the beach with her until you found that tiny green piece.”

Your mouth parts slightly in surprise, but he isn’t done.

“And your favourite swirl shell,” he continues, his voice soft but steady, “when you were fifteen, watching New Year’s fireworks on the beach with your family. You kept it in your pocket the whole night.”

Your chest tightens as the memories flood back, vivid and untouched, like they’d been pulled from a secret drawer in your mind.

“And the first black shell you found,” Bob adds, his blue eyes meeting yours, “on New Year’s when you were fourteen. You said it was like finding treasure because you didn’t think shells could look like that.”

You stare at him, speechless, the flashlight in your hand momentarily forgotten. “How… how do you remember all that?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bob shrugs, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he looks down at the sand. “You told me about them. Years ago, when we first started dating. I guess I just… I listened.”

Your throat tightens, and you feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to rise. “Bob,” you say, your voice catching. “I didn’t even remember some of that until you just said it.”

He gives you a small, sheepish smile. “Well, I figured tonight would be a good time to bring it back. Thought maybe we could make some new memories while we’re at it.”

The weight of his thoughtfulness, his quiet way of always knowing exactly what you need, settles over you like a blanket. Without thinking, you reach up, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss, the sound of the waves your only witness.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips, the words trembling with emotion.

Bob pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his smile soft and full of love. “Always.”

You and Bob stand hand in hand on the cool sand, your flashlights casting warm glows over the beach. The kids are scattered, their voices carrying on the breeze.

Suddenly, a burst of motion catches your eye. Tilly and Theo come sprinting past, their laughter echoing across the shore. In Tilly’s small hand is a black shell, and Theo is holding something you can’t quite see.

“Get back here!” Alex shouts, his voice full of mock outrage as he and Max charge after them. “That’s stealing!”

“It’s called strategy!” Theo yells over his shoulder, his grin wide as he picks up speed.

“Survival of the fittest!” Tilly adds, giggling so hard she nearly stumbles.

Max groans dramatically as he struggles to keep up. “You’re supposed to find your own stuff, not steal ours!”

Bob chuckles beside you, shaking his head as the twins put on a burst of speed, sand flying behind them. “I told you this was going to turn into chaos.”

You laugh, watching as Tilly veers toward the rocks, dodging Max’s outstretched hand with a squeal. “I think this is less about shells and more about who can outsmart who.”

“They definitely get that from you,” Bob teases, squeezing your hand.

“Oh, please,” you shoot back, nudging him playfully. “You’re the one who taught them how to ‘win at all costs.’”

Ahead of you, the chase continues, the twins gaining on Theo and Tilly as they dart through the moonlit sand. Despite the chaos, the sound of their laughter fills the air, blending perfectly with the rhythm of the waves.

As the kids' laughter echoes across the beach, you turn to Bob, your heart full and your chest tight with emotion. You squeeze his hand, drawing his attention away from the chaos in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice almost lost in the sound of the waves.

Bob tilts his head, his brows knitting together slightly. “For what?”

“For bringing that mother feeling back,” you reply, your eyes shining. “Even if it’s just for one night, I needed this. I needed to feel like this again.”

He smiles gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’ve never stopped being an amazing mom, you know. I’m just glad I could remind you.”

You bite your lip, your heartbeat quickening as you reach into your coat pocket and pull out something small. “Actually… you might’ve brought it back for longer than just one night.”

Bob’s face shifts to confusion as he glances down at the object in your hand. When he realizes what it is—a pregnancy test—his blue eyes go wide, and his mouth opens slightly in surprise.

“Is that—?” he starts, his voice breaking off as his face flushes bright pink.

You nod, a smile breaking across your face. “It’s positive, Bob.”

For a moment, he’s completely frozen, his eyes flicking between your face and the test as he processes the news. Then his hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, his signature move when he’s flustered.

“I—uh—wow,” he stammers, his voice soft and uneven. “I didn’t mean this in the bathroom… I mean, I wasn’t expecting…”

You watch as his shy smile grows, the joy slowly spreading across his face. “We’re—”

“Having another baby,” you finish for him, your voice trembling with equal parts nerves and excitement.

Bob lets out a breathless laugh, his hands coming up to frame your face. “You’re serious?”

You nod, your own smile widening as tears well in your eyes. “We’re serious.”

He pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buries his face in your neck. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just holds you close, his breath warm against your skin.

When he finally pulls back, his cheeks are still pink, and his shy, boyish grin hasn’t faded. “Guess I’d better start working on how to tell them,”

You laugh, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “You’re the one telling them. No way in the world am I dealing with that.”

“My angel traitor,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “no help at all.”

#robert floyd x reader #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob top gun

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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

Text

— come

Toge was always so careful and meticulous about using his cursed speech, not wanting to impact himself or his friends. But when you’re out getting drunk in an attempt to forget your asshole of an ex-boyfriend, and he’s trying to get you home a certain word slips out and it doesn’t quite have the intended effect.

Thanks to the cum/come discourse for sparking this idea.

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dubious consent (to be safe— Toge uses his cursed speech on reader without consent but she likes it), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public setting, unestablished relationship, intoxication.

Word Count: 3k.

You didn’t expect your weekend to end like this. Saturday evening you’d been happily planning a holiday with your boyfriend, and then by Sunday morning, you’d broken up. His speech had started with an “it’s not you, it’s me” before you’d ended up throwing him out of your house and calling your best friend Maki.

And that’s how you’d found yourself in some shitty bar in a rough part of town on a fucking Sunday evening as you throw back drinks to try to numb the pain. It was surprisingly busy inside the dingy bar, and you were just glad it wasn’t one of the band nights they seemingly had each weekend if the obnoxious posters splashed all over the walls were anything to go by. The loud music pounding through the speakers was enough to set the vibe without being so overbearing that it vibrated through to your skull.

Being with your friends arguably made things worse as you glanced across the table at Maki and Nobara who were so clearly in love— why couldn’t you have something like that?

Lamenting softly you eyed your empty glass before honing in on the warm dregs for Yuuta’s fruity cocktail. Watered down by melting ice as you slurped the rest of it back through his straw, left making an irritating noise as you tried to get every last drop of alcohol from the bottom of the glass.

“Yeah, I think you got it all.” Megumi groaned in irritation as he took the hurricane glass out of your grasp, placing it back in front of Yuuta as he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get another one.” You huffed, tapping his thigh to let you out of the booth as he moved to stand.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Megumi countered but did not attempt to stop you as you approached the bar. Clumsily weaving through the other patrons who loitered around the area with drinks in hand, as you narrowly missed walking into a guy holding two beers.

Toge watched you closely as you made a beeline for the bar. He was just happy to be here with you at first, nursing his beer as condensation began to ripple down the bottle as the liquid built to room temperature. The blunt nail on his thumb scratched at the damp silver Asahi label as he languidly peeled it from the bottle. His eyes focused on you as you leaned over the bar to order another round of shots, your skirt raised just enough that he could probably get a peek of the panties you were wearing tonight — not that he hadn’t accidentally snuck a glimpse when you’d crossed your legs on the train into the city earlier (pink, they were pink) — but this meant if he could see your panties now so could any other pervert in this dingy dive bar.

Fuck.

“Toge?” Yuuji calls, “Where are you going?”

Toge waves him off as he moves on instinct. Abandoning his long-forgotten beer as he navigates himself through the crowd towards you, violet eyes glancing at a man who was clearly checking you out as his brows creased into a frown. Deliberately coming to stand behind you to hide your ass from the perverts in the room as he lays a gentle hand on the small of your back.

It’s the way your eyes light up when you see him that has his heart thunderous in his chest, so loud he thinks you could probably hear it over the abrasive drum and bass track that was currently playing.

“Toge!” You turn to greet him, as though you weren’t just sitting beside him in the booth moments earlier.

“Takana?” He looked at you with concerned eyes as your smile faltered.

You’d definitely had too much to drink.

“But I don’t wanna leave yet, Toge.” You pouted at his question, your arms immediately curled around his shoulders as he had to take a step back to prevent his increasingly evident bulge from pressing against your front, “And I just ordered us more shots!”

“Okaka.“ Toge frowned, already certain you wouldn’t be able to stand if you had much more.

“Don’t be like that,” You pouted, “You said you were gonna come out with me tonight to make me forget him, but you haven’t even danced with me.”

If you’d thought Toge had any inclination to dance with you, you should’ve been sorely mistaken. But the thought of you going anywhere without him dressed like this had a rage burning in his chest as he thought about anyone else laying even just a finger on you.

“Sujiko.” He motioned to leave, his warm palm splayed against your hip as his fingers pressed into you. Feeling the plush of your body dip beneath his hand as his thoughts ran rampant, thinking about how pretty you’d look beneath him while he palmed every curve.

“You’re no fun,” You furrowed your brows, and your bottom lip jutted out so adorably that he had to physically restrain himself from leaning forward to kiss you. For the first time, he wished that his cursed speech worked on the user because he’d shout a resounding “Don’t do it!” just to get himself to stop.

“Okaka.” He repeated, thankful you could barely see his face beneath his mask as a pastel pink dusted his cheeks. Toge never wanted you to think he was boring, the banter you’d managed to maintain even though you were dating a less favourable guy kept him close to you despite your relationship. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t pleased that you’d finally broken up, even if it meant you were hurting now.

“Oh, yeah— you are fun?” You teased. Toge could see the cogs in your head working as you motioned back to the bar, “Then do a shot with me.”

Toge sighed beneath his mask as he kept one of his arms poised around your waist in a subtle sign of possession as he came to stand beside you at the bar. Glaring at the bright blue liqueur that’s sat in a rather large-looking shot glass— just thankful it wasn’t whiskey again.

He didn’t enjoy letting alcohol get the best of him, especially with his cursed speech. It lowered his inhibitions and made him more susceptible to talking, which could be a danger in itself. Texting someone to “go die” playfully during a game or banter was one thing, but actually saying it when he’s shitfaced would have dire consequences.

“Shake shake,” Toge replied.

The delighted squeal you let out at his answer as he moved his arm from its position to pull his collar down made his lips curl into a smile as he reached out for the glass. Holding it gently as he waited for you to do the same as you leaned your body weight against him, your perfume invading his senses as he tried to remember to breathe.

God, you’re so tipsy.

“Three, two, one—” You practically sing as you throw the shot back.

Toge mimics your movements, not expecting the shot to burn as much as it does as it travels down his throat. Tempted to pull out his cough medicine to try and alleviate the tension, but it’s quickly forgotten when he watches your reaction. Your face is scrunched up adorably in disgust as you stick your tongue out, slamming the glass back down on the bar as you make a cute sound of repulsion.

“I thought it would taste nice because it’s blue,” You whine, “That was even worse than the last one— let me get us something else.”

Your words are slurred as you move to lean back over the bar, trying to get the barman’s attention as Toge tries to pull you back.

“Okaka.” He shakes his head, moving his hand from around your waist in favour of wagging a finger in front of you.

He wants to shout at you, remind you that you promised you’d leave after this, but he doesn’t. Pulling his mask back up around his lips to avoid temptation as he tries to move you away from the bar.

“Tuna tuna.” He presses, as you move back to lean against him. Your arms back around his shoulders as you sway from side to side.

“But I don’t wanna go yet, Toge,” You pout, “It’s still so early.”

Toge ignores your statement as he manages to walk you far enough from the bar that you’re not in danger of ordering more shots. The guy behind the bar was giving you far more attention than necessary and he’s certain he would’ve left the bottle if you’d given him the option.

“Tuna.” He murmurs as you pull his mask down to stare up at his face. Giving him the same childish pout as he mirrored your actions with a pout of his own, showing off his curse marks as you resist the urge to stroke them.

“You go home Toge, but I wanna stay,” You huff, you throw your head back childishly and Toge has to tighten his grip on your waist to prevent you from falling backwards, “Yuuji will take me home.”

Toge was smart enough to know that Yuuji would be completely incapable of getting you home after the sheer number of two-for-one strawberry daiquiris he’d consumed tonight as he gave you a deadpan look.

“Shake shake.” He replied sarcastically, his voice oozing with ridicule. Keeping his grip on your hip as he tried to move you to leave but you kept your feet planted in place.

“Come on, just one more shot and then we’ll go—”

Of course, he should’ve known you wouldn’t be satisfied with one, and the adorable pout on your lips would usually have been enough to have him crumbling, but he needed to get you home.

You shook your head immaturely when he tried again to pull you away from the bar, practically whining as you begged him to stay, causing a disgruntled grunt to vibrate in his chest as he tugged your arm.

��Come.” The word left his lips before he’d even thought about the implication, already turning his body to leave.

And it should’ve made you follow him— But that isn’t how his cursed speech decides to work, and that’s definitely not where your mind is right now.

You can feel it before it happens, your body torn from your consciousness as you feel the familiar tingles of energy pulse through your veins as your climax builds in your pelvis— but this is different. The desire blooms so hard and fast that it’s impossible to fight it, as you try to clamp your thighs together to satiate the ache as your arms tighten around Toge’s shoulders.

He knows what he’s done before he sees it happen. The pleasured look on your face as your thick lashes flutter and your glossy lips part in a shameless whine, manicured nails drag against the messy hair at the base of his skull as your legs become weak. Leaning more of your weight against his a debauched, desperate whine spills from your lips.

Oh, shit. It’s loud, and he’s certain someone has got to have heard it, protectively pulling you closer as though he’s afraid someone else might get to see you like this.

Toge feels his cock respond, pulsing against his pants as it begs to be set free. To feel your trembling walls hug him tightly as he slides into you for the first time— he’s fucked his fist more times than he cares to count to this image, and somehow seeing it here and now could never compare to all those dirty fantasies he’s had about you.

The pleasure is all-consuming and nothing compared to the orgasms you’ve had in the past. It feels as though an invisible energy has injected its way into your veins and has filled you with an inexplicable warmth as your climax surges through you in harsh waves. The intensity has you weak at the knees as you cling to Toge to stop yourself from buckling to the floor, burying your face in his neck as Toge wishes he could see the way your eyes roll as your lashes tickle his throat and your lipstick smears against his collar, not that he cares—

It’s too much, too intense as your hole clenches around nothing and your clit pulses. Thankful for the loud music coming out through the speakers as a sinful whine spills from your lips, your hips jerk wildly as you feel Toge’s hard cock press against your tummy. His breath comes out in harsh pants as he tries to think of something, anything to stop himself from creaming his pants. Already feeling the fresh pre drooling out of his cockhead and soaking his boxers at the mere sight of you.

“Fu-uck, Toge.” You whimper, your nails drag against his scalp as your fingers weave into his messy hair to tug roughly. Stealing a sudden gasp from the back of his throat as he feels you press your body against his.

Toge tries to commit the sound of your moans to memory. The sultry, debased sound of your voice crying out his name as he forced an orgasm from you that he’ll no doubt be fucking his fist to later tonight as he feels your breasts drag against his chest. He feels like a pervert for getting off on this, no better than the men who were loitering around the bar for a glimpse up your skirt.

A real creep— but somehow this was worth it, he thinks.

In all those nefarious thoughts he’s ever had about you while he’s stroking his cock, he’s never once imagined you’d look this good. Completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t even touched you. The corrupt whines he’d stolen from your lips continue well into the tremours of your orgasm as he clings to the sound of them, unabashedly shifting closer so he can hear the high-pitched breathy whines you make over the music playing through the speakers.

He doesn’t even care if your friends can see at this point if he’ll be roasted in the group chat or vilified for it later. He reckons it would all be worth it having finally seen you fall apart for him like this.

And little did Toge know that you didn’t seem to mind much either. Your ex had never made you cum like that— an all-encompassing climax that left you feeling like putty. Your legs quivered as you felt the aftershocks continue to trickle through you all the way down to the tips of your toes. An impassioned energy that had your mind hazy, laced with cheap alcohol as it managed to consume your consciousness.

It’s embarrassing. Knowing that anyone could turn to watch you in the crowded bar, to see just how blissed out you are as you lose control of your body and your senses. The pleasure practically forced itself upon you as you drown in it, wishing he’d help you through it with his fingers against your clit or inside your empty cunt as it continued to flex completely empty. Wondering if this is what he could do with his cursed speech, what Toge would be able to do with his hand— with his cock.

You were looking up at him with the most fucked out expression on your face, it made it difficult for Toge not to want to kiss you— especially with your lips so close.

“Fucking hell, Toge,” You exhaled shakily as you clung to him, “That was—”

He locks his jaw to bite back the urge to cough, trying to swallow it in his throat as he moves to pull his mask back over his face. Hoping to shield his now crimson cheeks but your hand is quicker, reaching out to prevent him from pulling it up.

Toge wraps your wrist in a rough palm to tug your hand away from his mask with a frown, feeling his thumb press into your pulse point as you practically whine at him. Your hips still gyrating as you start to come down from your bliss, his eyes flit out to see if anyone seems to have noticed but thankfully the bar is raucous as he holds you against him as you continue to ride the little aftershocks of pleasure.

You use your grip on the back of his head to tug him down to your height, your glossy lips barely graze his as you press your lips together. A kiss that leaves him craving more as his tongue peeks out to swipe at the gloss, tasting the sugary hint of cherry as you go cross-eyed looking at the curse mark on his tongue.

Toge can’t stop himself now, one taste and he’s addicted. His warm palm smooth along your side as he maps out the curves of your body, inching his way up until he finds your face. Cupping your cheek in his hand as he leans forward to kiss you, his lips press firmly against yours as you gasp softly, allowing his tongue to delve further as he strokes it against every crevice. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss as you brush your tongue against his gently, feeling yourself melt into him as your hand's ball into fists in the fabric of his shirt.

He knows it’s wrong. You’re inebriated, he’s already taken advantage of you by using his cursed speech and yet he can’t stop himself. You’re like a drug and he’s addicted as he longs for one more taste, just another hit and then he’ll quit— except he never wants to quit you.

Toge has never felt so much disdain for the basic human need to breathe as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, keeping his lips pressed against yours as he pants against you. Your warm breath fans his face as half-lidded eyes meet his, your lipstick now smeared across the sides of your lips and chin as you give him a sweet smile.

“Toge,” You whine, “You didn’t have to use your cursed speech on me to make me cum.”

“Ikura.” He curses beneath his breath at the sultry lilt to your tone.

“Can you make me cum again without it?” You ask so sweetly it has his body reacting before his mind as his neglected cock throbs beneath his pants.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be the death of him.

#toge inumaki smut #inumaki x reader

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seat-safety-switch · 5 months ago

Text

For many good reasons, the ancient practice of "funny bumper sticker" has fallen away in recent years. And bad reasons, too. In their stead, the "angry bumper sticker" has begun to dominate America's bumper-based highway discourse.

I am certain that a sociologist would be able to tell you exactly when this happened, and why. Maybe it's Milton Friedman's fault. Actually, it probably is, fuck that guy. Still, the temperature needs to be taken down a notch. I don't want kids in school buses to be getting their entire political concepts from the words in inch-high text: "Fuck Government, Taxes Bad." Crude and a rudimentary analysis at best. That's why I had to do something.

You might be surprised to hear this, but the sovereign nation of China has a whole bunch of bumper-sticker-printing factories. It's where all of our bumper-sticker-printing factories went after we closed them during the great decline of bumper stickers. They're still going, servicing the world's demand for bumper stickers in every glorious language. And for about twenty bucks, you can get a stack of bumper stickers half a foot thick mailed to your door. Those bumper stickers can say whatever you want.

Me and the bunch, we like to hang out at the gas station and slap these bumper stickers on the back of passing motorists. Don't worry, they come off easily and don't damage any paint (if they did, I'd have a lot more holes in my bumper.) What they do do, however, is make everyone else on the highway honk and wave, gleeful to be seeing someone taking a brave stand and making their day just that little bit better. Sure, the operator of the car is probably insanely upset when they get home, but until they figure out what happened, they've brought happiness to so many other folks.

Yep. You could call me a modern-day hero, but I'm just a guy with several hundred Don't Honk At Me, I Will Be So Mad I Swear To Fucking God bumper stickers, doing the only thing he knows how.

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endless-ineffabilities · 11 months ago

Text

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #chemical override #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader

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