#you glide across the stage like a shooting star

[suguwu]

...pantalone & ballet dancer reader

[bonezone44]

‘Stages of Grief’

Word Count: 1968

Joel x Reader

image credit

Summary: After a tense interaction with a family member who raised you when you were little, you spiral. Joel talks you through it.

Tags: Reader gender unspecified, angst, grief, familial neglect, childhood emotional/physical abuse

a/n: Read if your family sucks. Read if you like crying. Read if you’re crying-curious. But also keep in mind that I’m a random person on the internet who writes fanfiction. Not a therapist.

++++++

‘It’s not fucking fair,’ you tell yourself. The pain shooting through your body in a way that feels unending. 

How can an emotion feel so much worse than anything else?

How can a thought trigger a full body nuclear meltdown? How can it send you burning and twisting and writhing and regressing into the small child you once were?

Years have passed since you were a little kid, being tugged around and shoved from place to place, trailing behind the adults in your life. All your curiosities being ignored. Your questions going unanswered. Your needs being shoved aside so they could do whatever the hell they thought was so much more important than you. Their child. Their responsibility.

But what about you? What about your needs and desires? What about all the shit that you wanted to do? 

You still remember staring up at the glowing carousel–the colorful, twinkling lights mirroring the stars in the night sky. The beautifully painted horses gliding up and down to a fun, jaunty tune playing loudly from some hidden location within. Your eyes sparkled with majesty and wonder. And you remember how the whole place smelled like popcorn–rich and buttery. The memory always made you hungry when you thought about it.

“I wanna go on that next!” you pointed and shouted with hope and excitement.

You heard an angry scoff. “We’re not going on a fucking kiddie ride.”

“But I wanna go!” you stomped.

They turned around and got in your face. “Well too fucking bad!” They yanked your arm, tugging you through the crowd. Other adults. Other kids. Other people with cotton candy and stuffed animals and new light-up toys and big smiling faces.

You started crying. It felt like your whole world was shattering. “But I wanna go!” You kicked and screamed. You wanted to have fun. You wanted what you wanted.

They shoved you into a corner and got into your face again. This time it was accompanied by their finger and a suffocating cloud of anger. “I don’t give a shit about what you want. Now shut the fuck up and don’t fucking embarrass me.” They whispered fiercely.

“But–”

They slapped you hard across the face. 

It stung. Badly. You felt dizzy.

But it got you quiet.

“Now I’m gonna go down there and hang out with my friends–” they said, pointing down the dim, smelly alley behind the stalls. You saw two men in dirty aprons, sitting on buckets and smoking cigarettes with greasy fingers. “--and you’re gonna shut the fuck up.”

You pouted and sniffled, but had no choice in the matter. They were your adult. You had to go wherever they went. There were no other options.

And now you’re older and wiser, but anytime you’re with them or think about them or meet someone who reminds you of them–it sends you into a spiral. As if they still have their hand wrapped around your arm and you’re still begging them to let you get your way.

“You gotta talk to me, darlin’,” says Joel.

You can’t even see him. You know he’s in the room but your head is a thunderstorm and it’s raining out your eyes. “They do this. They do this every fucking time!” You choke out through sobs. “They can’t be happy for me. They can’t let me have anything!” The last word comes out with a stomp. You clench your fists and dig your nails into your palm. The pain is sharp and you shake your head, burrowing into it. “They never give me anything!” Never give you their attention, their love, their respect. It didn’t matter if you still lived in their house or not–they still saw you as a burden. “It doesn’t matter what I say or-or-or how I say it. They just refuse to fucking hear me!” They wouldn’t even listen when you spoke. “I have tried everything and nothing works.” You wipe your eyes, attempting to compose yourself.

“Then why do you keep tryin?” he asks.

You stare at him dumbly. “‘Cause they’re supposed to! They’re supposed to-to-to–” You break down harder. You can barely say the words in your own mind, but somehow they come out your lips. “They’re supposed to love me!” Your anger recedes, replaced with pain. Pure heart-stinging pain. You rub your chest with your palm. “They’re supposed to love me, Joel.” Your head falls back, your eyes on the ceiling. You can feel the muscles straining in your neck. “But they don’t!” Your mouth is wide and grimacing as you cry. “I can’t even get them to care about me!”

“Then why do you keep tryin?”

“‘Cause they’re supposed to,” you pout. Your brow is tight and you can feel yourself getting a headache. 

“But they don’t.”

Hearing those words from Joel–it knocks a part of you back into place. Like you had spread out into a puddle of tears and he’s scooping you back together. You’re still hurting, though. You’re still crying.

“So why do you keep tryin’?” he asks again. “When you know they don’t care?”

“Because… because I want them to. I want them to care about me. I want them to know me. It’s not fair that-that-that I’m living this whole life without them and they just… they don’t even make an effort.”

“So stop tryin’.” He shrugs. His arms are crossed against his chest. “Stop givin them the effort that they won’t give you.”

“But I have to–”

“No,” Joel says firmly. “No, you don’t.”

“But–” you’re not giving in. You refuse. Your leg is shaking. You wanna beg him. Plead him. “But they’re my family.”

Families are supposed to love each other. Share stories. Call on the weekends. They’re supposed to learn and heal together. They’re supposed to be interested in one another’s dreams and struggles and achievements. They’re supposed to be lifelong companions. And when you’re an adult–they’re supposed to make the effort to heal whatever wrongs occurred during your childhood.

“I can’t just… leave ‘em, you know?” Your lips are trembling as you try to get the words out. “I can’t just give up on them.”

“Yeah–” Joel’s eyes are wide and serious. “Yeah, you can.”

“But–”

“You don’t owe them shit, darlin’,” he says. “It don’t matter if they fuckin’ raised you.” He shrugs. “It don’t matter how much money they spent on you or the time they took outta their shitty little lives to take you to school or soccer practice or to fuckin’ feed you.” He steps closer to you. “If you feel like shit every time you talk to them or try to… reach out–then stop.” He shrugs his shoulders again. “They coulda gifted ya a million fuckin dollars and it still wouldn’t make a difference.” He stares right into your eyes. “You don’t owe them anything.”

Your sobbing has ceased, though your cheeks are still wet. “Then what am I supposed to do?” you ask. What are you supposed to do with this piece of you? This solid chunk of yourself that sits in your gut. What is it supposed to do if it’s not desperate and yearning for your family’s attention and approval and support? 

“Nothin’.”

“...What?” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says while shaking his head.

“But…” But that didn’t make sense. You were always doing something. You were always seeking and reaching and tugging and pulling and grasping for them. You were always begging and pleading and crying and aching and needingneedingneeding them. 

“But…” And you could feel yourself releasing–like the odd burst of blood flow you got after unclenching your fists. When you had been holding onto something so tightly for so long that you stopped even feeling your own hand anymore. Didn’t know you had fingers. The only thing you noticed at the end of your arm was a strange sensation.

And when you finally let go, unpeeling your fingers, your joints moved unfamiliarly and uncomfortably. Your muscles trembled and shook–feeling weak. Your fingers were warm and tingly and pulsed. It made you think of a balloon popping–without the sharp sound. It was dull and matted and flat, but also exploding and alive and free.

“I don’t have to do … anything?” you asked. Because how the hell was that possible? Because once again, you were always doing something. Always feeling some sort of way.

“All you gotta do is live your life and do what you wanna do. In whatever way you can.” He shrugs. “If they show up, they show up.” He holds his palm out. “But you don’t owe them anything if they do. Even if they try to tell you that you owe ‘em.” He shakes his head. “You don’t.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “Nobody asks to be born, darlin’. But that don’t give them permission to treat you like shit for it. And you don’t owe them for doin’ the bare minimum to keep you alive.”

 “So I can just… do whatever I want?” The tears return and you’re not sure why. There’s still pain inside you, stored deep in your muscles. But the twisting ache in your gut isn’t as strong as it was before. You feel lighter. Lighter than you ever have in your whole life, you think.

“You can do whatever you want.” 

You start crying again, in a mix of confusion and hurt and relief. But you’re nodding. You’re agreeing with Joel. God, you can’t imagine what you must look like right now. Probably covered in snot, swollen eyes and lips. You just cried like a little baby and he watched you and talked you through the whole thing. You feel so silly and stupid and–grateful. You feel so grateful for Joel. 

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing back tears. “Thank you for loving me,” you choke out and you reach out to hug him and his big arms wrap all the way around you. 

“Of course, darlin’” he whispers and kisses your head. His hands rub up and down your back as you sway into each other. “Of course.”

Once the tears fully stop, and you can think of your family without immediately falling apart, you sigh and let go of Joel.

His big hands cradle your face and he kisses you on the forehead. “Gonna get you some water,” he says and leaves the room.

You know this won’t be the last time you do this–grieve your family. But it’s a start. It’s a baseline. It’s a feeling you know you can seek out again when the next spiral hits. And then the next spiral. And the next. 

But it will take less time in the future when you know the destination–when you can recognize the end of the journey. And even if Joel isn’t around for those, he was around for this one. The first one and worst one. And he didn’t judge you or silence you or push you away for having your feelings or expressing yourself. He didn’t treat you like a burden or toss you aside for being you and dealing with your shit. 

And he didn’t try to replace your family. He didn’t try to become the new target of your yearning and desire and need for approval. Because he knows he can’t be that for you. He can’t be your new family–your new lifelong companion. Only you can. Only you know your own thoughts and desires and ambitions and dreams. Only you can be there inside your head at every waking moment and every sleepy night. And when that solid chunk inside of your gut starts to spread, grasping like ivy for something outside of you to fix you or approve you–you have to scoop it back in and tell it, “No. I don’t have to do anything. I can do whatever I want.”

+++++++

a/n: I'm currently enjoying my ride on the 'Joel x Reader x Healing' train. Most of my fic titles end with "(18+)" and I was tempted to put "(Fun for All Ages)" on this one 😂

[tsukikoayanosuke]

From the Cloud, I Meet You - 12 Days of Ruikasa (2023)

Day 1-2: Past

Stories and legends have always been part of Tsukasa's life. As the prince of the Kingdom of Horos, he has access to the largest library in his kingdom just a few feet away from his room. Days and days he would sit in the corner reserved for him and read all the storybooks they had there. When he grew older, he got attached to theater. To see your favorite tale come to life has been Tsukasa's dream for the longest time. Perhaps one day he could act and dance on the stage like the actors.

One tale that he held close to his heart was the story of the Sky Prince and the Sea Spirit; a tale about a meeting of fate, a forbidden romance, and a tragic ending.

The Sky Prince, coincidentally named Tsukasa, was the son of the Night Sky God, born from the first twin stars along with his twin sister, Saki. Their domain was the starry sky, each tasked with a different duty. Saki was in charge of wish granting through shooting stars, while Tsukasa was in charge of guidance through constellations. They were essentially messengers between the gods and humans; always flying and never touching the earth nor having the ability to have power to create life.

But Tsukasa the Sky Prince had always been a curious godling. Watching the heroes and listening to their tales through the muses made him even more curious about the realm below the sky. Would Earth's ground feel the same as the clouds? Would it always be sunny like here? How does the food taste below there?

However, he didn't see the ground for the first time.

Instead, his feet landed on a mass body of water.

Is this...what they call the sea?

It felt ticklish and bouncy underneath his feet, unlike the soft blanket-like feel of the clouds above. Didn't humans need to use something to walk across this area? A boat? Or was it a ship? This realm was kind of empty. There was nothing that caught Tsukasa's eyes except the vibrant blue color. Seemed like a boring realm. Why do humans want to go through here?

It was then he heard something rumbling. Looking down at his feet, he could see the water was vibrating even more. A loud splash caused Tsukasa to turn around and what he saw shook him.

A sea monster. Something that doesn't exist in the sky realm.

Tsukasa quickly drew his staff before jumping away as the sea monster's tentacles nearly hit him. Summoning his power, he waved his staff to summon his starlight before launching them toward the monster. Tsukasa knew his power was nothing compared to the gods, but he could do something in self-defense. The sea monster didn't back down though and kept trying to catch him. Tsukasa could only glide around and used his light as a reflector.

But Tsukasa didn't see more tentacles sprouting from the sea. One just right behind him as he flew backward, not even noticing until it was too late. It swatted him, throwing him into the sea.

For Tsukasa who had never seen the sea before thus not knowing how to swim, it was a death sentence to him. He could do nothing but sink into the sea monster's open jaws...

Something grabbed him by the waist, dragging him away before the sea monster could close its jaws.

Whoever just rescued him raised their hand as if they were commanding the creature to stay away.

And surprisingly, the sea monster listened to them and swam away.

But Tsukasa was losing his breath. His lungs hadn't gotten used to breathing in a different realm. The last thing he saw was a purple individual's face hovering before everything turned dark.

-----

The first thing he heard when his consciousness awakened was the sound of the water, rolling waves on the beach. It was a peaceful sound, like a lullaby, luring him back to the realm of sleep. But he couldn't. He had to wake up.

So, he opened his eyes. Someone's face greeted him as seawater dripped onto his already wet face. Who is that?

"Oh, thank the sea, you're awake," the figure said who seemed to be a male. "Are you lucid yet?"

Tsukasa frowned. "I think..." he muttered but then a cough erupted from him. The figure quickly turned Tsukasa's body to the side so he could cough out all of the seawater. "Thank you..."

"Not a problem."

When Tsukasa finally could sit up without getting dizzy, he looked at his rescuer.

Purple hair with two cyan streaks and dressed in a white top with frills. He doesn't have a leg, instead, he has a dark purple tail with violet fins, the same color as the fins that are supposed to be his ears. His golden eyes gazed at Tsukasa's sunset ones, filled with curiosity.

"You're not a human, are you?" the purplenette asked.

"Oh, I'm not. I'm a godling." Tsukasa said before smiling. "And you saved me."

He smiled back. "What is a godling doing in the vast ocean? This is not your realm."

Tsukasa let out a nervous chuckle. "Well...I kind of just went exploring before the monster attacked me."

"You know how dangerous the sea realm is? Have you never been here?"

"I've never been anywhere this close. I usually just fly around the constellation."

"The constellations..." Suddenly, the golden eyes widened with youngling excitement. "You're from the sky realm? What is it like up there?"

"O-Oh, well, we have lots of clouds. But the night sky is very beautiful! My job to to guide heroes to their journey."

"Such an important job..."

"Nah, it is nothing."

The purplenette shook his head. "No. It is very important. Without the stars, sailors would get lost in the sea and we sea spirits can't do anything. With the sea being dangerous as you've seen, the stars are their sign to sail through a safer water."

Huh. Tsukasa has never thought about it that way. "Oh..." he blushed, "I guess I did a great job then?"

"Of course," he smiled. "Godling always has the best job."

"So, you're not a godling?"

The purplenette shook his head again. "I'm just a humble sea spirit. I haven't done anything great unlike you."

"But you saved me." Tsukasa grinned. "That's a great job."

"I guess I did," he said with a chuckle.

"Again, thank you for that. I don't know what would happen if I got eaten." Tsukasa offered his hand. "I'm Tsukasa, son of the Night Sky Father and the Guiding Constellation. I should know the name of my savior."

The purplenette blushed slightly but took Tsukasa's hand. "I'm Rui."

-----

Prince Tsukasa of the Kingdom of Horos has always loved the beginning of the story. A being of the sky meets a being of the sea. Two opposites, yet they're attracted to each other. Tsukasa always wished that one day he would find someone special like Rui the Sea Spirit to Tsukasa the Sky Prince. He wishes that his story could be as sweet as their first meeting.

[aurik-kal-durin]

If Peach & Bowser were partners in classic Paper Mario...

I really want them to make a traditional Paper Mario game one day a la TTYD where you have Peach and Bowser on the team as partners. This is just one way I thought it could go. Let me know what you think.

Unlike Paper Mario 64 and TTYD, Paper Mario 3 (let's call it that for now) would allow you to take direct control of all your partners in the field, swapping between them and Mario just like in battle.

Princess Peach

Overworld Abilities:

Parasol Pummel - Peach can strike enemies and objects with and overhead swing with her folded parasol. Can deal first strike damage and activate objects.

Parasol Glide - Allows Peach to glide across gaps using her parasol to reach places that Mario cannot. If Peach enters a battle when separated from Mario, she will be fighting alone.

Battle Moves:

Parasol Pummel (0 FP) - Peach strikes an enemy over the head with her folded parasol. Base damage is 2. Can only strike enemies in the front of the group.

Charm (4 FP) - Peach charms an enemy, causing them to attack their allies for several turns.

Star Storm (6 FP) - Peach unleashes a barrage of shooting stars, striking all enemies.

Shadowy Embrace* (15 FP) - Peach allows the Shadow Queen to possess her for the remainder of the battle, increasing her Attack and Defense, and replacing all of her other abilities. 

Battle Moves (Shadowy Embrace):

Shadow Strike (1 FP) - Replaces Parasol Pummel, allowing her to attack any enemy with a bolt of dark lightning. 

Ensnare (5 FP) - Replaces Charm, which has a higher chance of bewitching an enemy to fight for her. 

Dead Hands (7 FP) - Replaces Star Storm, which summons a horde of dead hands to pull all enemies into the shadows and deal damage. 

Queen’s Wrath (16 FP) - Replaces Shadowy Embrace, which raises Peach’s attack by 7 one round, and then unleashes a powerful shockwave attack that strikes all enemies the following round.

The amount of Flower Points (FP) for all of Peach's attacks also increases by 1 when using Shadowy Embrace.

*To unlock Shadowy Embrace, Mario must not only obtain the Ultra Stone for Merlin, but go on a side-quest to retrieve Shadowy Essence from the crypt in the Palace of Shadow. This will allow Merlin to bind Peach to the Shadow Queen, allowing Peach to command her. 

When using Shadowy Embrace in combat, the regular battle theme is replaced by the Shadow Peach Battle theme from TTYD.

Bowser

Overworld Abilities:

Fire Breath - Bowser breaths fire to deal first strike damage to enemies and activate objects. Can also burn through certain obstacles like vines, spider webs, or wooden barricades.

Battle Moves:

Bite (0 FP) - Bowser bites ground-bound enemies, with a chance to poison them if the action command is executed properly.

Fire Breath (6 FP) - Bowser breaths fire over all enemies, setting them on fire and causing them to take damage over time.

Ground Pound (3 FP) - Bowser leaps into the air and comes crashing down on an enemy, immobilizing them for several turns.

Koopa Command (8 FP) - Bowser summons a legion of Koopatrol and Magickoopa minions to fight alongside him. Both can attack enemies directly, though Magickoopas will also heal Bowser and Mario if their HP drops too low. Minions deal less damage as they take damage, and flee the stage if their HP drops to 0.

Yeah... I know some of these abilities sound overpowered. I tried to make Peach's "Shadowy Embrace" ability at least somewhat balance by adding an extra quest to obtain it AND making it cost an absurd amount of Flower Points, but TBH I don't care how OP it is as long as it's FUN.I just really want to be able to play as both Peach AND Shadow Peach in a classic Paper Mario game with the classic turn-based battle system from TTYD.

[yutahoes]

Music, Dance

loosely inspired by the lyrics of Music, Dance by NCT 127

pairing : gunman! Yuta x stripper! Reader

genre : smut, slight fluff

warning : Alcohol, Lap Dance, Slight striptease, Teasing, Lots of hickeys, Breast fondling and sucking, Oral - Female and Male Receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Gun, Mention of killings, Drugs, Cursing

(I would also like to warn you about a badly written scenario with a badly written smut 😅)

word count : 5.5k

(Please forgive me. I went all out and crazy over this 😭)

summary : You are his star, the hottest, the shiniest. He is your music, the only one you wanted to dance to.

For @neosmutcollective ‘s 3rd Event: Risqué

She's the star. The gem shining brighter than the lights illuminating the place. 

And his gaze can't leave her. 

The way she walked to the platform, full of confidence with a cocky expression, attracted him. She knew full well that all eyes were on her. And they are, as they should be. 

She smiled at the people before holding the pole on stage, swaying her hips along with the bass music booming through the speakers. The flickering lights made her sultry movements shine. Her haughty smile at the men who crave for her, made him breathless. As her body swayed on the music, she playfully attempted to remove her red brassiere which made the men holler. 

Who wouldn't? She's perfect. Her voluptuous body. Her sinful movements. She's addicting to look at. A real jewel. Her eyes caught his and she winked, making him smirk. A strain on his pants is evident. All this, because of her. Only her. 

His star. 

--

She smiled the moment she came inside the door of the private room. "You're here…" she started, strutting in red high heels. "Senpai." 

Yuta smirked. He might be here too often. But can he blame himself when this is the only place he can go tonight? "You don't like it?" She laughed, sitting beside him on the red velvet couch. She poured beer on his half-filled glass, drinking some and leaving a red lipstick mark on the glass then handing it to him. "You're wearing lipstick tonight." He claimed, drinking beer on the same glass. 

"I'm not in the mood for some action." She rolled her eyes, standing up. He watched as she sway her hips, walking in her red high heels to where the audio player of the room is. "The usual, isn't it?" She didn't wait for his answer as she played a sultry song with piano and keyboards in the background. He leaned on the couch, putting down the glass of beer to fully focus on her.  

The girl went up to the table, her heels clicking across the hard wood while slowly turning around the pole of said table. Her eyes stared at him, those black orbs pulling him in. Sensually, she swayed her hips downward. Her fingers majestically grasping the pole. He was enticed. Her seductive gaze. Her haughty expression. It made his pants tighter.

Noticing this, she raised an eyebrow then parted her legs in front of him while sitting on the edge of the table. She stretched one leg, her heel gliding to his thigh to his crotch. Yuta gasped. “Do you like this, senpai?” Her voice was low, laced in sex. She played with the bulging in his pants using her foot as he closed his eyes in pleasure.  

The music stopped that made her chuckle. "It’s three am, I'm done.” He’s close. Too close. “Do you need anything else?" He glared at her. She's really something. “Next time, come earlier.” She said with a smirk then showed her palm. Yuta was chuckling as he opened his wallet to pull some cash as a tip for her but she took some more from his wallet that made him shake his head. “I’ll wait for you, senpai.” She winked before standing up and walking out of the door. 

Yuta shook his head, chuckling to himself. She’s one of a kind. 

--

"Where have you been?" Doyoung asked as soon as he entered the door to their hideout. "Taeyong hyung is looking for you." 

Yuta dropped his keys on the table, opening the suitcase full of armed weapons. He took one gun, reloading some bullets. "Where?" 

"27th street," Doyoung said while looking at his computer, "12th building." The older smirked, cocking the gun he's holding. "Are you going to bring just that?" Yuta pointed his gun to the dummy on the side, pulling the trigger that the bullet shot through the middle of the dummy's forehead. 

Things were pretty bad in the 12th building. But he's not a hired gunman if he ran away. It was just two big men, why is Taeyong so scared of them? Without even a sweat, he shot both guys on the head. "Where were you?" The leader asked, getting the suitcase full of money then another suitcase with the drugs in it. "Are you with that girl again? I swear Yuta, one day I will hunt that girl down…" 

He pointed the gun on Taeyong's head, "Do that TY, and I swear the next bullet I'll shoot will be in your brain."

"So you're already crazy for this girl?" He teased but Yuta just glared at him. "Call Jaehyun, ask him to clean this up." The gunman hissed. He hated this. 

--

The next time came earlier than expected. There wasn’t much to do in the organization anyways so he watched her in her stuff, being other men’s eye candy. The thought that these sleazy men were putting their hands on her made his blood boil that he’s suddenly annoyed now. Should he kill someone today? He's been in a sour mood lately. 

“You’re early.” The girl teased as she entered the door in her red ensemble and high heels. Her lips were flaming red that made him hiss, no action. “You look unwell.” 

She swayed her hair as she opened the audio player for another instrumental music. “I’m not in a good mood today.” She turned to him, her tongue swiping along her bottom lip. 

“I can change that.” She smirked then knelt on the couch that she’s sitting on his lap. “Can you pay extra today?” Yuta nodded and she smiled. “Remove my lipstick,” she ordered. He looked at her in confusion, why wear that if she wanted it removed? “Kiss me.” 

He smirked. “That’s against the club rules.” 

“I make my own rules.” Her voice is confident. She wanted this. “Kiss me, senpai.” He didn’t need to be told twice as he leaned in to place his lips on her. She rolled her eyes when he broke the kiss, “You kiss like a dad saying goodnight to his daughter.” She leaned in to suck his bottom lip, making Yuta gasp. Her lips were so soft, her tongue slithering inside him tasting like mint, lime, and alcohol. When she break away from the kiss, she tapped his cheek. “That is how you kiss.”

She really does know how to turn around someone’s mood. But had she done this with other guys? It’s against the rules to touch a dancer inappropriately. The reason why, even if he wanted to touch her, his hands remain on his side. Naturally, it’s also against the rules to kiss the dancer, moreover sex. And she’s willing to break those rules for some cash. Is she in dire need of money? 

“I still have my lipstick,” she said while swiping her thumb against her bottom lip, a faint red stain can still be seen. “This is trouble.” He looked curiously at her. But her, wearing lipstick is so hot. “I can’t mark you.” Her voice was low, seductive. 

“Why not?”

Her lips were automatically placing small kisses on his jaw. “Your wife will see.” Yuta laughed, funny of her to think that he has a wife. "You don't? A girlfriend then?" He shook his head. 

She looked surprised and he chuckled. "Why would I be here if I have a girlfriend?" 

She raised an eyebrow at that. "You'll be surprised at how many guys here have girlfriends and wives." She sat properly to face him. "So have you danced before?" Yuta gave her a curious look. Danced? "Don't tell me you're a virgin, senpai." 

Is that what it meant? He smirked, shaking his head. "Have you danced before?" 

She beamed at that. "That's my job." She leaned closer, her lips on his neck. She sucked on his skin, letting her tongue lick the spot before kissing it. "Maybe you just need to find the correct music to dance along." She did the same to the other side of his neck, him groaning at the warmth of her mouth. 

The girl had to smile at her masterpiece, giggling at the purple marks she did to him. "It's three am. Your time is up." Her fingers trailed from his neck down to his clothed chest then to the tent of his pants, taking time in playing with his growing bulge. "You have to go back before those marks disappear, senpai." 

But his focus was on her middle finger rubbing the tip of his clothed member. He muttered a breathy curse that made her smile. Her fingers moved up to his torso that made him open his eyes. "I'll see you soon, senpai." She sucked on his bottom lip while standing up. The lack of contact made him sigh, breathing heavily as she walked out the door. 

He wanted her, so bad. 

--

The guys were staring at his neck when Yuta entered their safehouse, grinning like wolves to themselves. "What?" He asked, pissed off, then sat on the vacant spot on the chair next to Jaehyun.

Taeyong just shook his head before handing out his phone to Johnny and Doyoung. "Get ready for our next transaction two days from now." It was passed to both Jaehyun and Yuta that made the latter surprised. 

"Club Fancy?" He asked which made Taeyong nod. 

Why there? Of all the clubs in town. Why does it have to be that club? "We need you there Yuta if something happens," Johnny ordered. And he wished nothing happened. He doesn't want anything bad to happen. Especially to her. 

--

The lights were flickering as different women grace the stage with their seductive moves. But none of them fascinate Yuta. Weirdly, there are five of them in one area, drinking slowly and cautious of the surrounding. Someone here is their enemy tonight. 

When the speakers boomed a sensual song and a silhouette of the girl on the platform can be seen, Yuta sighed. “They won’t come. Let’s go.” But the four just stare at him then at the girl who was shining under the spotlight. The Japanese man hissed as he sat down, why would she wear that set tonight? All black leather, with a garter belt and pantyhose, black stilettos showing off her confidence. She's out here to take everyone's attention. 

“That’s your girl?” Johnny asked and he glared at him. 

“Let’s have a little show,” Taeyong exclaimed and Jaehyun chuckled. 

Yuta was pissed off at this point. He’s sure they’re just teasing him. Is the transaction in this club even real? Instead of enjoying himself through her little striptease, he was more than worried. He doesn’t trust these guys. What if they do something to her? 

Her eyes were glancing around, illuminated by the stage lights, as if looking for someone. Her gaze kept on looking at the area where he usually sits alone. A warm feeling crept up his body. Is she looking for him? Surprisingly, his eyes met hers and she smirked before twirling around the pole to give attention to other men worshipping her on her feet. She is. 

Once the set was finished, he told them to leave already but it was Johnny who teased that he just wanted a private time with ‘his girl’. That sounded nice. But she’s not his. 

She passed by their table with other girls and her manager but she stopped in front of them. "Senpai," she greeted that made the other guys snicker. "You're back early," Yuta smirked at her. "And you brought friends." Her eyes traveled on each of his colleagues' faces as if memorizing it. 

"It's an official business." 

"Here?" She asked then raised an eyebrow at him. "And I thought I could spend some alone time with you." She said loud enough for the other guys to hear. They only smiled knowingly at that. 

Does she really have to do it today? But two can play this game. "You want to spend some alone time with me?" 

"Of course, you're my favorite." Damn it, she's so good. He smirked at that. Her favorite. "Finish your business. I'll see you at six am later." She flipped her hair before following the group of girls to the other table. Six am? The club is already closed at that time. 

Fuck, he thought. "We need to finish early." 

--

It's two hours past the assigned time when the five decided to leave the club. Yuta's eyes wandered to her before leaving the club, another male's hand on her thigh that pissed him off. 

Taeyong stopped on his tracks when ten other guys, all clad in black, blocked their way. Yet, even if three of them are skilled in guns it's still no match to ten amateur shooters. Yuta was once again pissed off that he suffered a gunshot wound on his shoulder. Totally a first. 

He was lucky that police sirens can be heard that made everybody scram out of the place. Even if he wanted to come back inside, to make sure she's safe and to see her, he can't. Not when Johnny is already dragging him to the car while muttering how stupid it is that he got hurt. 

It annoyed him. Did he really think that he wanted this? What annoyed him the most is that he can't see her. Will she be waiting for him? Should he just go to the club and come clean to her? Tell her he's shot and maybe he can bring her to his place. But damn, with his injury he can't do anything with her. Why doesn't he even know anything about her? Name. Number. None. 

As much as it annoyed him, he waited until the bandages are gone and the wound is completely healed. Until he knew that he can hold her in his arms. He pondered whether to watch her perform, ask for a private lap dance once again, or just wait for her. Yet in the end, he wanted her alone so he waited until six am for her. Unsure if she’s here today. 

What should he tell her? Sorry that she had to wait. Did she wait? Tell her that he’s been shot. But she will surely ask what he does for a living, what happened. Is he ready to tell her everything? That he’s an evil man, a greedy man who kills people just to spend some time with her. 

There are two things that can happen when she finds out the truth. First, she’ll avoid him like the plague. He’s a dangerous man, he’ll understand. Second, she’ll stay and enter his world. And that scared him more. 

But when she went out of the club, he stopped then gaped at her. She looked different in the natural light, with less make-up and more clothes. If possible, she’s prettier. A contrast to the fox she is inside the club, an angel. In no time, he was out of his car that surprised her. She looked surprised. “Long time no see.” 

“Sorry.” The only thing he can mutter right now. “Things happened.” 

“What things?”

He can’t. If she finds out about it, she’ll be in trouble. He can’t risk that. “Just things.” He mumbled. She raised an eyebrow at him, arms crossed on her chest. “Do you need a ride home?”

A smirk appeared on her lips. “I think I want to ride something else.” Fuck, he really can’t escape her. 

--

Yuta wasn’t sure why of all the places, he brought her to his apartment. The girl marveled at how elegant everything looked, plopping herself on his couch. Yuta went to the kitchen to bring out two glasses and wine that made her giggle. Early morning and wine. “This is one amazing crib,” she exclaimed, eyes not leaving the interior of the house. “You’re a really wealthy man.” He shook his head. He’s not. “So what do you do for a living?” She asked casually, pouring wine on both glasses. 

“Things.” He took the glass of wine, drinking it without removing his eyes on her. He sat on the chair opposite her, the wooden coffee table separating them both.  

She smirked. "Will you tell me in exchange for something?" She asked in that haughty voice of her which made him nervous. Why is she so interested in the things he does? She arched her hips, pulling down her panty from under her skirt. He watched as she removed one leg then raised her other leg that has the fabric of her underwear, hanging on her foot. "So what do you do for a living, senpai?” 

Yuta laughed before taking her underwear then holding her foot. He kissed her calf, licking the skin where his lips were earlier. “I steal jewelry..” His kisses went up to her leg that he’s now kneeling in front of her. “I rob banks.” By now, his lips and tongue were on her thigh. “I deal with drugs.” 

He sucked on the skin near her throbbing core, his head under her pleated skirt. “I kill people.” A gasp can be heard but he wasn’t sure if it was because his tongue entered her or his confession. She tastes so good that it’s addicting. Her moans and her scent, indulging his senses. He held both her legs to wrap them around his head, pushing him further inside her. Her hands thread on his hair, tugging it and he smirked as he felt her clenching on him. 

He removed his tongue inside her then flicked her clit that earned a moan from her. She looked so erotic: hips arched, lips agape and, eyes closed. He wanted her real bad. He sucked on her clit, pushing a finger inside her to stimulate the spot that made her scream in no time. Her moans of pleasure were so stimulating that he pushed her to her limit. 

She shook in orgasm but he kept his finger inside her, even inserting another one. He sat on the table while watching her ride his fingers. “Senpai,” she said in a breathy moan. “Are you going to kill me?” Another finger was inserted and she grabbed his arm, the wounded arm from before. Yuta smiled, he’s relieved that he waited or else this will be trouble. Her nails dig on his flesh, turning him on. "Senpai," she called as her body squirmed for her second orgasm. 

Her breathing was ragged, heavy pants against his shoulder. “You’re really going to kill me.” 

Yuta laughed, a sound vibrating against the walls of the house. “I can’t do that to you.” The girl tapped the space on the couch next to her and Yuta obeyed, sitting next to her. She sat on his lap, her wet core rubbing against his thigh. “You really want to ride something else?” 

She grinned. “I feel safe in your lap.” That startled him. He’s not a safe man. There’s blood in his hands, a lot of people he killed. Her fingers grazed the scar on his arm. “Were you shot? That’s why it took a long time for you to come back to the club?” 

“Were you waiting?” 

“I wish you wouldn’t do something like this again.” Her lips hovering against his, “If I give you something, can you stop meeting with them?”  

Yuta smirked. She slowly removed her shirt, his hands traveling on her back and stopping to where her brassiere is. He marveled at how soft her skin is, that she is his for today. His mouth found her naked breasts, his hands on the curve of her waist. He didn't know how he managed to get her inside his room without breaking their steamy kiss but he did. A chuckle escaped his lips when she pushed him to bed, shimmying out of her skirt that she's naked now. She found her place on his lap once again, hands trailing under his shirt. 

He loved how dominant she looked while slowly removing his shirt, her fingers tracing the tattoo he had. "So hot." She whispered, licking his earlobe then heading south to trace the inks on his skin with her tongue. But she's hotter in this position that he can't help but jerk his hip up to grind on her. She moaned before licking the lines visible on his abdomen as her hands started unbuckling his belt. 

His remaining clothing was quickly discarded, his cherry cock springing hard for her. He watched as she rubbed her wet pussy lips against his length as if teasing him, staring in her haughty expression. Yuta groaned when she slowly sat on him, entering her core with ease. She's so wet and so tight. His self-control thinning out to not fuck her mercilessly on the mattress. She started riding him, controlling their thrusts. One hand was holding Yuta's chest for support, the other on the headboard as her body bounced above his. The man licked his lips. Her breasts jiggling at the motion, her mouth agape as soft whimpers can be heard, her eyes closed tight while her head rolled back. Fuck, she is so hot. 

He sat up, holding her waist to help her ride his cock while his mouth started to attack her mounds causing her to move forward. His cock hit a different angle that made her moans louder. He could feel her clenching on him that made him smirk. Already? Yuta started jerking his hip up, meeting her thrusts halfway that made her scream. His control is now gone. He just wanted her to orgasm, to make her shake in his arms. 

Her body was closer to his, nails digging on his shoulder that made him groan against her ear. She came with a shudder but he didn't stop thrusting inside her tight core. He could feel himself getting thicker by the second and with another thrust, came inside her. His lips were on her, whispering apologies for cumming inside her but she just shook her head, smiling at him. 

"Shouldn't I know your name by now?" She whispered, breathing heavily beside him. Her fingers started trailing the tattoo marks in his skin. "I can't call you senpai forever, you know?" 

Yuta chuckled at that. "If you find out my name, you wouldn't be able to escape me." 

"What if I don't want to escape?"

The guy smirked at her haughtiness. "Yuta," he whispered, lips hovering against her. "And I want you to shout that name when you cum." 

The girl giggled when he hovered above her in bed, his mouth started sucking supple marks on her skin. Her fingers thread on his hair, tugging on the strands as she kept on moaning his name over and over. It turned him on, knowing that it was her who's giving her this much. "Yuta." she whispered, “Please, Yuta." 

He started kissing her breasts then licking up to her neck. He held both her legs wrapping them on his waist before thrusting into her so deep that she screamed while fisting the bedsheets. "Now move, Yuta." He kept on slamming into her as she scratched his arm in pleasure, repeatedly whispering his name in every thrust. "Oh my God. Yuta!" She shouted while he kept hitting her pleasure spot, pushing his cock into her so deep that she started shaking in orgasm while calling for him. 

He kept giving her multiple orgasms in exchange for her calling his name, only his name as if chanting a magic spell. Yuta kept filling her up, kissing every skin in her body. He liked this feeling. That she's his. That they're the only ones who matter in the world. And he wished every day could be like this. He needed to stop working with them, put his life into order and get her out of the club. They can start a new life together and every day will be exactly like this. 

“Will you stop dancing in the club if I promise to stop doing this?” Her gaze on him was warm, looking surprised that he even said those words to her. “Let’s run away. Just you and me.” 

A heavy breath escaped her lips. "I can't." She nuzzled her head on his chest. "I still have to finish something." 

"Then I'll wait for you." 

--

He let her do what she wanted. He let her go her way, whatever she wanted, that's her. She knew where she's attracted. To the stage, with everyone's eyes on her. And Yuta had no problems with that. He'll wait for her, he promised that. 

"Why are you here?" She asked, smiling like a teenage school girl then running to him in her heels. "Did you miss me, Yuta?" she grinned, sitting on his lap. His hands were automatically on her waist, like previous nights when she did the same action. 

He thought he was okay with her like this. Clearly, he's not. 

His tongue darted out to lick a spot on her neck. "You have a hickey," he claimed while touching the spot he just licked, a faint purple bruise can be seen. 

She gulped hard. "The client paid extra so I thought it's alright." 

"Do you think it's alright?" She shook her head but he gripped her hair, pulling it. "You wanted to be a slut?" A glint appeared in her eyes and she nodded that surprised him. "Do you know what sluts do?" 

She gasped. "That's against club rules." 

"I'll pay extra since you love money so much." She gulped when he started unbuckling his belt, revealing his semi-hard cock. "Now, suck, my slut." She was kneeling in front of him. The warmth of her mouth engulfing him, the softness of her tongue in contrast with his hardness. Her hand gripped on the base of his cock as the other played with his balls. "Fuck, that's so good." He growled, tugging on her hair. 

She started using her tongue to lap him up from the shaft and tasting the precum seeping on his tip. Her hands started jerking his cock then licked the underside of his balls that made his eyes widened. Fuck, that is different. Where the hell did she learn all these techniques? A smirk appeared on her face when she returned to sucking his cock in such force that made him groan. He's so close. 

The girl started deep-throating him, pulling back then bobbing her head once again. Yuta groaned at the sensation when she bobbed her head faster, eager to get him to his release. "God." Yuta groaned, saliva dripping on his balls. "You're so good." His hand tightened on her hair as she deepthroats him once again, eyes rolling back as he felt his release that made his body tremble. 

She slurped his cum, even lapping up the tip of his cock to clean him up. He saw her gulp, swallowing the heavy load in her throat then placed a soft kiss on his cock. His thumb wiped her mouth and she sucked on the finger that made him smile. "That was the best blowjob ever." 

The girl licked her lips then smirked. "And it will cost you." Yuta took out his wallet but she slapped his hand, sitting on his lap once again. "You're gonna have to fill me up later." Is it a cum fetish? Why is she like this? 

Yuta nodded then leaned in to kiss her, tongue exploring her wet cavern. His phone rang that halted their make-out. What the hell? Why now? She stared at him and he just looked at his phone for a while, a message from Taeyong. 

He groaned which was immediately drowned by her lips, her hand taking his phone away. "What's your plan?" She whispered but he only stared at her when another message came. Taeyong gave the name of a building, telling him to come immediately. "Stay." 

"This is the last time." He kissed her once again. "I'll come back real quick." She called his name in a desperate attempt to stop him. "I promise, this is the last time." 

"Yuta, I have to tell you something." 

"Later." He kissed her again then springing into his feet, leaving her on the couch. "Wait for me." And he was out of the door in no time, phone on his ear.  

--

Another dealing and he didn't know exactly why the five of them were needed this time. When police sirens were heard, he already knew why. They're cornered. A total first. Who the fuck caused this? And why now? 

With Doyoung's quick thinking, he and Yuta had an escape on one of the backdoors. But the younger was easily caught by one of the armed men, even overhearing that they were caught because of Doyoung's phone. Yuta escaped outside, watching as the four were held by bulky policemen. This is bad. He even left his gun inside because of the commotion. 

"Stop right there.” He heard someone say. He was about to turn to know who it was when the voice continued, “Hands up.” followed by a clicking sound of a gun and cold metal on his nape. He followed the order, raising his hand above his head. A hand went on his waist as if looking for something that made him smirk, obviously a woman’s hand. 

“Go south. I might have been hiding something.” The metal behind him was pressed on the back of his head that made him chuckle. “I can give you a better night, you know?” 

“I know.” That voice. “Now move, Yuta.” Her. 

He was pushed on a wall, a gun still pointed at the back of his head. When he felt it gone, his hands were bound behind him as the cold metal can be felt on his wrists. Handcuffs. “Who are you exactly?” He wasn’t surprised when he turned to see who it was. Of course, it’s her. His star. "Is this your plan?" She remained expressionless, one hand getting out her phone while the other was on his chest to stop him from going somewhere. "All of this, pretending to be a stripper and fucking me, just to trap us? Am I an easy prey for you?" 

There was surprise in her features as she looked at him. "No, Yuta. You're not." She returned her phone back to her pocket. "You weren't our target at first but you made connections with the syndicate we're after and now, the five of you are under the radar." She explained. "I did warn you to stop meeting up with them." He rolled his eyes at that. "We should be at your place right now if you just did your promise." 

Now that he's staring, he can’t deny that she looks so good in her ponytail and black ensemble. Red lips ruining his focus as his mind whirled on those soft plump lips marking his skin. Her soft skin on his fingertips. Her warmth felt through his body. She looks different when she's serious, more charming. Hotter, even. “I genuinely like you.” 

She stepped closer and his heart skipped a beat at her scent. She’s still addicting. “So do I, Yuta.” 

"Then you should let me go." 

She shook her head. "They already saw you." Her fingers trailed from his shoulder to his chest, making him smirk. “Don’t worry. Please bear with this for a while, I’ll make sure that they will treat you well.” He raised an eyebrow at that, looking skeptical at her words. Can he still trust her? But she leaned closer, her lips sucking on a spot on his neck that made him groan. “You will miss me while in prison." She touched the hickey she just made. "So I guess I’ll have to see you before these marks disappear from your neck.” 

"You can do that?" 

"Be a good boy and I'll just might do that." He can see people walking to where they are. "I might even help you get out of prison." 

"Why are you helping me?" He asked but the girl smirked at him, "You're my music, senpai." 

“Miss Y/N.” A policeman greeted her with a salute. Yuta realized that this was the first time he heard her name. She nodded before two guys held his arm, dragging him away from her. “Chief has been looking for drug organizations for so long. It only needs her so they can get more information for other organizations.” One guy said to the other. 

“Chief was right to name her the star of the police force.” The other claimed. 

Yuta smiled. His gaze fell to her, watching as she was standing in front of someone in another police uniform. She turned to him and their eyes met that instant. Yuta smirked when she winked at him. Truly, one of a kind.   

His star. His music. 

He hoped he could dance with her again. 

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Crashing | Jurdan Fake Hating One Shot

Written for: @poeticbrownmermaid​ for my 1k celebration!

Massive thank you to: @clockworkgraystairs​ and @sweetlyvillainous​ for beta reading this and holding my hand before I posted 🥺❤️

Summary: You’ve heard of fake dating. Get ready for fake hating. It’s all very romantic.

Rating: M/E for explicit language and a short, soft focus smut scene (a steam scene, if you will). The sexy parts start and stop after the ☽☽ in case you want to skip.

Masterlist

“You taste—” I’m cut off by my own giggle, which rises to my lips like my mouth is a glass and my laugh is the Champagne they’re serving at this dumb party. “You taste like bubblegum.”

Cardan looks at me funny, then snorts. “What?”

His eyes are beguiling when they’re amused. Even more beguiling when they’re amused and looking at me. They are dark intoxication. They compete against the night sky for vastness. I could swallow them whole.

We’re on the terrace under the stars outside his fancy-pants mansion. I’m sitting on the stone railing, my knees bracketing his lithe frame. His hands and lips are breathless effervescence on me.

I’m in a daring dress of red satin that I would’ve never chosen for myself had Oriana not insisted on finding us girls a tailor. It’s an elegant, backless number with an audacious slit up the side. The whole time before this in the ballroom, I could sense Cardan’s eyes eating it up while he pretended to hate me.

In this dress, I am a femme fatale spy from a film, meeting her tryst in the secret of shadows. Which is honestly not too far off from the reality of the situation, though I am no spy.

Cardan ghosts one hand up the exposed skin of my thigh. The night air is bracing as his touch.

“Jude,” he murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

He’s in a rakish black velvet suit with two blood-red rubies dangling from the pointed tips of his collar. It is decadence and sin given form. The first hour of this hell party was just that: Hell. By the time Cardan pressed a napkin into my palm with the words “Terrace. 10 min.” scrawled on it in smeared ink, I was beginning to glare at him in earnest—if only for the way he must’ve known he was teasing me.

Now, we’re making out behind two conveniently tall potted plants.

It’s all very romantic.

“I had one glass of wine, Cardan,” I say. I slide my hands from his hair and scrape my nails lightly down the column of his neck. It is heady, watching his eyes shutter. My hands slide down his chest and take up his lapels. I give them a firm tug. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I,” he says, lips hovering over my own, “Don’t believe you.” His breath fans across my face. It really does smell like bubblegum. And not the minty kind, either. I’m talking bright pink and bubblicious.

I lean back a little and stick my bottom lip out in a mock-pout. “Why not?”

“For starters,” he says, “You’re a lightweight.” He trails that damned hand down my exposed thigh again.

I shiver. “So? I also ate like twenty of those canopy things.”

“Canapés?” Cardan smirks.

“Yeah, whatever, Your Highness.”

He flashes me a grin and I’m briefly stricken into silence. “Then, what have you to say to your unprecedented giddiness this evening, Your Majesty?”

“Ew, don’t call me that.” I grimace. “I just called you ‘Your Highness’.”

“What? Scared of the implication?”

“Uh, yeah.” My brows shoot up on my forehead. “Mainly because it implies that I’m your mother.”

Cardan’s face goes slack. “Shit, really?”

I nod and bite back my grin.

“I thought they were interchangeable.”

“About as interchangeable as a fork and a spoon.”

He sputters a laugh. “Shows what I know about royalty.”

“You realise how ironic that is, don’t you?” I say, nodding pointedly in the direction of the party.

It goes on without us, spilling its mirth in great golden shafts out onto the terrace. It doesn’t touch us, though. The air is cool, clear of the preening bullshit that so regularly lathers these kinds of events. And though he makes me dizzy, Cardan is the only real thing here.

I think I like parties better this way. From the shadows. In there, we’d have to talk to people, explain ourselves. We’re supposed to hate each other. We were always supposed to hate each other.

A smile plays at the corners of Cardan’s lips as if he’s gleaned these thoughts of mine. “You haven’t answered my question.”

I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m too giddy to not be drunk.”

“Mhmm.” He nudges his nose against mine. “I’ve never heard you giggle before.” A slender finger tracks up my spine and it takes a considerable amount of concentration not to squeeze my thighs together. Goosebumps and a flush spring to my skin, anyway. “It’s delightful,” he tells me.

“Well, maybe you should work on your sense of humour.” My voice comes out shakier than I want it to.

“Maybe,” Cardan says, grabbing the back of my knee and hitching it up. “But that sounds like effort.”

I want to roll my eyes. This is exactly the reason we used to hate each other. His laziness, his arrogance, and entitlement made me want to punch him clean across his pretty cheekbones. I know my stubbornness and sharp tongue made him hate me right back.

Yet, when our worlds crumbled around us, we found ourselves crashing into each other. Entwined in a thicket of mutual understanding. Suddenly, there was so very little to hate.

We pretend to in public to keep up appearances. Everyone knows we hated each other. If we started being friendly around everyone else, people would talk. That’s the last thing we want. Even if they’d technically be right.

In private, though, Cardan is probably my most closely held secret.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still annoying as all hell. Like right now. But I’ve always liked a challenge.

I hook my leg around his back, pulling him in. My fingers card through his hair again. “I can be delightful in other ways,” I say, biting my lip.

His eyes lower to my mouth. “Oh, I’m well aware.” Cardan’s voice comes out a rasp. He cants my chin with the crook of his finger, pulling my lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. He looks at me with undiluted lust. The weight of his gaze is like a dizzying nightmare.

Then, he devours me.

Our mouths slide together, slowly at first, but building in fervor. Hot and heavy, like a fever. His grip on my thigh is bruising. His other hand splays across my bare back, crushing me to him, long fingers twining in my hair. Everything turns saturated and slow.

I invade his mouth with my tongue, determined to drink him up. He tastes like bubblegum and our reconciliation. At the same time, I hook my other leg behind him so he’s pressed flush against the apex of my thighs. ☽☽

A muffled groan rolls between his teeth. “Fuck, Jude.” Cardan is growing firm beneath his trousers. The feel of it sends a curl of sweet desire, dark and throbbing, through my core.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that,” I tease. I’m so featherbrained on the savour of his mouth, his liquid touch. My veins feel full of amber liquor instead of blood. I know I’m not drunk, and yet I feel it.

His fingers drawl back up my leg. “The question is, dear,” he says, “Can you be quiet?” The coolness of his hands sends a shock along the heat of my inner thigh.

I realise where he’s going with this and my breath hitches. My cheeks blaze. “Yes,” I tell him, though I don’t sound as confident as I should for such a high stakes rendezvous.

“Hmm,” Cardan thrums. “We’ll see about that.”

His fingers are deft and twice as sly. He hisses through his teeth when they glide over me, exploring.

As a steady rain, he begins my unravelling. His mouth covers mine, swallowing a soft whimper that escapes my throat. I want to moan his name, to curse aloud, but I can’t if we’re to stay hidden.

The thought is both terrible and exciting at once.

Cardan keeps a torturous pace. I cling to him, panting, clutching at his arms, clawing at his back. His mouth roams my jawline. His teeth tug my ear. My mind is frenetic, frenzied, and at once thick in a viscous haze.

All I can think about is how this party is so stupid and soul-sucking, but Cardan is the farthest thing from stupid and soul-sucking. About how he makes me feel very much alive. About how I like him more than anyone here, probably more than even myself.

His other arm wraps certain and solid around me as he spins my world on its side. I lean my forehead on his shoulder. He kisses my neck. I can’t help the gasps that leave me.

My heart is racing. So quickly does it pump, in time with his ministrations, I think I might turn to white lightning in a bottle before all is said and done.

I know it when I’m drawing towards that precipice. My toes curl and flex. My legs begin to quiver. My knees lock up.

“Cardan,” I gasp. “Please.”

“Can you be quiet for me, Jude?” Cardan murmurs rough against my ear. He sounds a little breathless, too.

I am so muddled, I am so close. I can only manage a soft sob in response. Now he’s doubling his efforts and oh, gods is he clever.

I bite his shoulder to keep from making a sound as I shoot over the edge, a wondrous arc so high I’m sure I scrape the stars of their dust.

My hips writhe against his palm. I pull and rake my fingers through his hair as I spiral through the five stages of sweet delirium.

He holds me through it. Presses his lips to my hair and whispers what I think must be comforting things into my ear. I can’t tell because I’m incapable of comprehending much of anything beyond myself in his arms. He strokes soft circles over my back until it’s done. ☽☽

When everything settles, I’m still clinging to him, my forehead against the sureness of his shoulder. A sheen of sweat dewing my skin.

I’ve always hated this part about intimacy. The aftermath. Everything is too quiet. The excitement is gone. You’re faced with the reality of looking at each other without the rosy filter of lust. Maybe you’ll see each other for who you really are, and that’s a scary thought.

That’s probably how I felt once with Cardan, too. Back when we started…whatever this is. But now, in this moment with him, it feels less vulnerable and more like holding someone’s hand as you stare upon something a little terrifying.

Which is why I’m able to look up at him and ask in every manner of seriousness, “Why do you taste like bubblegum?”

His responding laugh is gentle and he shakes his head. “One-track mind,” he says. I shrug and wait.

“They’re serving bubblegum cocktails at the bar inside.”

My nose crinkles. “You actually drank one of those?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“No, I think I’ll sleep quite soundly if I never do.”

Cardan gives me an awful kind of grin that makes my toes curl anew. “Didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” he says, then tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “I happen to like bubblegum cocktails.”

I give him a dubious look. I can’t help but feel that maybe we’re not talking about bubblegum cocktails anymore.

For a long moment, we just sit there staring at each other. There’s a bloom of laughter from inside the house. The clink of glasses. His eyes trace the lines of my face. I still feel drunk on him and he’s looking at me too soberly.

So I say, “You have shit taste, then,” and hop off the railing. I side-step him before beginning the task of smoothing down my dress. If I walk back into the party all flushed and disheveled, people will know what I’ve been doing—which is almost as bad as if people knew who I’ve been doing.

“Oh, you can’t say that dear,” Cardan lilts as he leans back against the balcony with all the insouciance of someone who lives in this ridiculous mansion. And rightly so, because he does. “Not when you taste equally delicious.” Then he brings his fingers, the ones that have just been inside me, to his mouth and closes his lips around them, burning gaze locked on mine.

My eyes go wide. My jaw slacks as I watch him. I’m somewhere between affronted by his audacity and completely turned on again. Which is a confusing place to be.

He laughs at my probably very foolish expression and I turn on my heel to head back to the party. I’m not actually offended. I just can’t bear to look at him while he’s tasting me off his fingers without combusting on the spot.

Cardan grabs my wrist. “Wait, wait,” he says, still laughing.

I arc a brow and turn to face him. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and sounds earnest enough. “It’s just… you make me giddy, too.”

His words are a punch to the gut. I hadn’t realised it until he said it, but it’s true. It’s not the way he kisses me or the high of a climax, though those are surely nice things, too. It’s the way I feel when we’re together. Just his presence makes my head swim, my stomach turn flips.

He makes me feel a little bit invincible, and entirely beyond reason.

I look at him, the warm glow of the party playing off the sharp angles of his face. He’s still holding my hand, fiddling with the ruby ring I always wear.

On the crest of a breath, Cardan says, “Stay tonight.”

“Why?” I whisper, because we’ve never spent the night. I’m not sure we’d even know how.

“Because I’ll miss you terribly?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I think you’ll survive.”

“Because you’ll miss me terribly.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely survive,” I say. Even as my heart gives a squeeze. I don’t want to leave.

Not yet, not yet.

“Because you’re too intoxicated to drive home,” he says.

“I took an Uber here, Cardan,” I tell him. “And for the last time, I’m not drunk.”

“I’m not saying you’re drunk, Jude.”

He’s not grinning at me, which I think is a good sign. It means he’s not hinting at something sexual. Then again, that might also be a very bad sign. It means he’s hinting at something deeper. I’m not sure I want to get into that conversation just yet.

“Fine,” I say. I do want to stay. The thought of it sends a little thrill through me. “Hate me for an hour more. We’ll have a big argument about… something. And then I’ll tell Madoc I’m leaving.”

His hands snake around my waist. “What will we argue about tonight?”

I smile at him sweetly. “If your head is half as cunning as your fingers, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Cardan hums. “I do love it when we’re at each other’s throats.”

I roll my eyes but I’m betrayed by my laugh for not the first time tonight. Stupid punch-drunk feelings.

☽☽☽☽☽

Enjoyed this? Try:  King  |  Wicked Game  |  We’re All Mad Here

Masterlist

AN: So this was supposed to be a drabble for my 1k celebration but my hand slipped and whoops! It’s 2.5K words. I really hope you enjoyed this secret tryst one shot. I had so much fun writing it. If you liked this and want to see more from me, comments and/or reblogs are very much appreciated!

I have a tag list so if you’d like to be added to that, let me know in the comments/my messages/inbox and I’d be happy to add you! I also recently jumped on the Twitter/Instagram bandwagon. You can follow me @/rebelwriter23 on Twitter and @/slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Instagram.

Back to the forest now. -Em 🖤💫

Title Inspo: Crashing- Illenium

Tag List: @velarhysismine​ @knifewifejude​ @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte​ @clockworkgraystairs​ @thesirenwashere​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ @whocares-idont​ @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous​ @aesthetics-11​ @storiesandschemes​ @jurdanhell​ @poeticbrownmermaid​ @thechainofiron​ @random-llama-socks​ @villanellevi​ @lady-thea-of-narnia​ @b00kworm​ @flowersinvegas​ @vanessa172003​ @cardanstrickytail​ @queen-of-glass​ @doingmyrainbow​ @words-of-the-wise​ @scarznstars​ @charincharge​ @fizziefaerie​ @fateandluminary​ @tessas-herondales​ @styles-taylor​ @jyoti96​ @losssssstttttt​ @transbordeamento​ @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer​ @woodsbeyond1​ @hizqueen4life​ @highqueenjudeduarte��� @m-like-magic1-blog​ @dorkzrul​ @whataboutmyfries​ @livelovereading123​ @queenofgreenbriar​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @lifeminuspickles​ @df3ndyr​ @christalpaez @aknymph​ @iammissstark​ @disco-tits1​ @star-flecked-soul​

[mythrilhusk]

Despite Everything - Chapter One

NOT RPF (RPF = Real Person Fiction) Genre - Magical Warriors (based off Magical Girl genre) Featured Relationships (only SFW): Niki/Puffy

Niki Nihachu never wanted to be involved with the corporation-funded magical battles sparring in the skies of her home planet, Io. But when she accidentally awakens an ancient evil, she's forced to take responsibility and join an ageless war to save the entire universe.

CW: Death, violence, threats, manipulation

(Ao3 link) Words: 1,874 Next Chapter 

Rain patters on the sky bridges forming webs throughout Io's largest city, Kumo Dome. Niki's boots scrape on the ironwood planks as her bridge sways over the icy void. She strides easily across, used to the motion. 

Above her, in the cold black sky unbrightened by the cold yellow speck of the Sun, several figures glide and dance in a clearly staged battle. Niki scoffs, reaching the highrise at the end of the bridge. Two-hundred stories above the ground, her favorite little cafe seems so peaceful, with icy cyan crystals growing over the railings of the balcony. Niki removes her cape and hands it to the host. "Thank you, Jack." 

"Anything for you." Jack grins and hangs her cape on a hook. "You change your mind at all? We could really use the publicity." 

"I'm not here to talk business." Niki replies, restraining her annoyance. If he were anyone else, she'd give them an earful. 

"Alright, Niki. The usual?" 

"Yes, thank you. Oh, add a few sprinkles to it, I'm celebrating." 

"Oh?" Jack leans across the counter, waggling his brows. 

"I got a new apartment that allows pets." Niki smiles as she sits down. It's not a lie, more of an obfuscation. 

"Awesome." Jack mixes up her drink and scatters unicorn sprinkles over the whipped cream. "This one's on me." 

Niki purses her lips. "I'm still not-"

"I know, I know. I'm just being nice." Jack sets the drink down on her table, then sits down in the opposite chair. 

"I'm expecting a date, actually." Niki tosses her hair teasingly. 

"Ohh? Who?"

"You wouldn't know her." Niki shoos him out of the seat. 

The door's bell chimes and Captain Puffy strides in, her billowing rainbow hair dripping from the rain and her cloak slung uselessly over her arm. Jack smirks at Niki. "You'd be surprised."

"Hey, Jack!" Puffy hops onto the seat Jack vacated and grins at the host. "Get me a bottle of Bloody Vodka." 

"Sure thing, Cap'n." 

Puffy turns her gorgeous smile on Niki. "Hey." 

"Hey." Niki responds dumbly, lost for words. "You're all wet." 

Puffy snorts in a vain attempt to restrain her giggles. "Wow, we're going there already?" 

"I meant the rain, but if you insist." Niki laughs. "Let me buy you a pastry. The donuts here are good." 

Puffy shrugs graciously. "I'll have the salamander crumb one." 

"Oh, that is a good one." 

"Puffy," Jack calls, "Please tell her to join us!" 

Puffy raises an eyebrow at Niki, who blushes and flusters. "Look, Jack, I've told you a thousand times, I will not be your goddamn mascot." 

"Mascot??" Puffy laughs brightly. "Jack, you idiot!"

"What??" Jack cries. "It's not my fault, Niki jumped to conclusions and never gave me the chance to explain!!" 

"Niki, darling." Puffy steeples her fingers and leans on the table. "You don't have to join anything you don't want to. But, that being said, we're kinda shorthanded without the Spirit of Death on our side." 

"What the fuck??" Niki cries, leaping up from her seat. Her heart pounds in her throat; her hands spark with emerald fire. She hastily smothers the flames, stuffing her hands under her arms. "I- I can not be Death, I will not be Death, I don't- I don't want this, why can't you magic bastards leave me alone??" Why today of all days??

Puffy stares at her, taken aback. Jack whistles awkwardly and retreats into the kitchen. "Niki, no, sweetie. You're not Death." 

"Damn right I'm not." Niki snaps. "I don't want to play in your goddamn staged battles, I don't want to fight anyone, I just want to be left alone." 

Puffy raises her hands in surrender. "I'm not asking you to." 

"Good." Niki's hands drop to her side.  

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I didn't realize it was a sore subject." Puffy sighs. "You're not Death. Just the reincarnation of the Spirit of Death." 

"What the hell does that even mean?" Niki cries, curious despite it all. "I'm not a Patron, I'm- I'm barely even a Hex, and I don't want any of this." 

Puffy gives her a sharp smile. "Oh, Niki. There are so many other powers out there." She gestures for Niki to sit down. Niki obeys. "What do you know about your own power?" 

"I- I can heal." Niki raises her hands. Emerald sparks flicker beneath her pale skin. "That's it, though." 

"That's green hex stuff, yep." Puffy covers Niki's shaking hands with hers. "You know Patrons, too, yeah?" 

"Yes, but I am not one." 

"Alright, alright. Spirits are reincarnations of the ancient dragons. Each dragon was a Patron of a different realm of reality. There's six of us right now." Puffy smirks and her eyes alter, mesmerizing Niki with fractals upon fractals of pulsing multicolored flames. "I am Captain Puffy, Spirit of Fire." Her voice crackles with the screams of blazing embers. 

As suddenly as the change had come over her, the normal Puffy returns. Niki laughs breathlessly. "That- that was hot." 

"Literally, yes, I am extremely hot." Puffy giggles.

"There's six of- of the Spirits?" 

"Fire, Ice, Light, Dark, Life, and Death." 

"I'm Light!" Jack calls from the kitchen. 

"Shut up, Jack, she doesn't care!" Puffy snipes back. 

"I'm just saying. She might want to know." Jack grumbles. 

"Puffy, I don't want to be involved." Niki stares at the table, at her trembling hands, at the silver lichtenberg scars on her arms. "I've seen what this power does to people. It- it is not a good thing, this Spirit, and I don't want it." 

"Alright." Puffy shrugs. "Fair warning, though, if you try to use it without being properly prepared, it will be harder to control." 

"I know. I'm not going to use it." Niki sighs, wishing the conversation hadn't turned so dour. "I'm sorry. Can we still have a nice date?" 

"Oh, of course." Puffy smiles and changes the subject. 

They talk till it's almost curfew. Jack cleans up around them, then pulls a seat up to join in the meandering conversation. Finally, Niki stands up and gives Puffy a shallow bow. "Thank you for the enjoyable date." 

Puffy bows back. "Any time, sweetie. I had fun." 

Outside, the rain has cleared and the clouds have parted to reveal Jupiter. The planet's glow bathes the city in orange light. Niki smiles up at the hidden stars. When she concentrates, she can feel them out there, massive gravitational wells of plasma. When she concentrates, it almost seems as though she is a star herself, blazing and powerful and implacable. 

A spark of terror ends the moment; her hands clench and she strides across the bridge, eyes welling with angry tears. She can't even have the stars. Not even today, the anniversary of her death.

The day Niki died started off like any other day. At the time, she hadn't learned to control her healing yet. When the errant lightning spell hit her, her magic reacted as a belated reflex. She was physically dead for a whole ten seconds. Ten seconds too many. 

The officials didn't investigate, but Niki knew the spell was from the staged battle nearby. She tried to sue the corporations who'd hired the Hexes, but nobody would take the case, claiming it was a lost cause. 

Getting more pissed the more she thinks back on it, Niki shoots a glare at the current staged fight on the next highrise over. The idiots just shoot off spells and don't even care who or what they hit, protected by the trillionaires funding them. 

One of the fighters, a cyan Hex, blinks onto the bridge, making it sway and rock. Niki grips the railing. "Fuck you!" 

He barely even glances at her before activating his jetpack to leap back into the air. A fire spell blasts past, narrowly missing the bridge. 

Niki hastily strides for the end of the bridge. She's just past the middle when the bridge tilts sideways, then swings wildly. Niki grips the railing, cursing colorfully. Overhead, laughter mocks her. 

She lets go to flip off the fighters. A fire spell slams into the bridge and knocks her into the abyss.

Niki screams, flailing as wind whips past her. Through the blinding haze of terror, she gathers enough wits to preemptively activate the only spell she knows. Emerald fire consumes her body as she slams into the ground, over two hundred feet below the bridge. 

++++

Hm. Niki? That's a nice name. I'm [redacted]. 

Huh. You're not dead, are you? That's good. If you were dead, you'd be rather less useful. 

Niki, you don't want to die again, do you?

Nobody wants to die, least of all more than once. 

I have a deal for you.

...

That was fast. I haven't even told you what it is yet.

Hm. Okay. You want revenge, that's easy enough. Just heal me and I'll give you your revenge.

Ha... 

....Hahaha....

You idiot. You really did it. You actually freed me! Heh, I guess you can have a reward. 

I'll let you rest in peace. There. Don't get in my way or I will make your eternity very painful. 

It was so nice to meet again, Spirit of Death...

++++

"Niki!!" Puffy's distraught cry shatters through the haze of drowsy distance. 

Niki groans and tries to open her eyes. She feels weightless, disconnected. Her eyes remain stubbornly closed, like she's still dreaming. Magic crackles in her body, desperately working to mitigate the damage and knit her together. 

A spark of foreign magic trickles into her hand. Niki lashes out, snatching the tendril and yanking it away. A furious yell frees itself from her lungs. 

"Wait, sweetie, it's okay!" Puffy blazes in Niki's awareness, a form of flames and crackling lightning. Terrifyingly, hypnotically gorgeous. 

"Are- are you a star?" She opens her eyes and sees Puffy kneeling over her, cutting a stark shadow from Jupiter so far above. 

Puffy hiccups, wiping away her tears. "Niki, I saw you fall and I thought- oh, gods, I thought you were dead!" 

"I was." Niki tries to reassure her, but this only makes Puffy start to cry again. "Puffy, I'm not dead, it's okay!" 

"Are you sure? Are you a ghost?" 

"No, I am not a ghost." Niki sits up with effort and reaches for Puffy's hand. "See? I'm alive." 

Puffy yanks her into a fierce, warm hug. "Don't die ever again." She hisses. "I don't like it." 

Niki laughs brightly, still recovering from the shock of her final few moments. "I will try." 

Puffy continues to embrace her. "We've only known each other for like two weeks, but if anything happened to you, I'd probably have a villain arc." 

Niki extricates herself from the embrace. Puffy looks absolutely magical, covered in grime, tear stains down her cheeks, her eyes and nose puffy from crying. "Thank you for coming." 

Puffy sniffles. "What else would I have done?? You fell from a goddamn bridge, nobody would have found your body for ages!" 

"I think most people would have left me." Niki admits bitterly, recalling her first death. 

"Fuck that, you're my friend." Puffy cries hotly. "Let's get you home." 

Niki rests her head on Puffy's shoulder as she's picked up. "This doesn't mean I'm joining your team." 

"I never said anything about that, sweetie." 

Next Chapter

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 9

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, AO3

~*CS*~

Los Angeles, May 24th

“-and there’s a bit of a backup on the 405 just south of the 10 due to a two car accident in the southbound lanes.  That’s the morning traffic report brought to you by your local Southern California Honda dealer.  This is Treena in the morn’ and I got some Yaz on the way along with Echo and the Bunnymen and Talking Heads after this-”

“A clock radio?” Emma mumbled into the pillow, “Really?  What are you, like, three hundred?”

Killian’s chuckle stirred the hair at the back of her neck, “Try thirty-five, love.”

“So you say,” she groused as he reached over her to turn off the alarm.  She blinked up at him as he set his hands on either side of her shoulders, looming over her with a smile, “I bet you still have a landline, old man.”

“And a rather impressive laserdisc collection,” he said with a wink.

“You would.”

He laughed, a bright joyous thing that had her smile stretching from ear to ear.  It was the last of the three days of no shows that they had while in LA and the second morning she’d woken in the bed of Killian’s house in Malibu.  Since their first night together in Denver they hadn’t slept apart, much to Tink’s delight and Will’s annoyance.  When they’d arrived in LA Emma had been surprised and pleased to discover that Killian had a house there where no one would disturb them as long as they kept their phones on silent.  Unfortunately it hadn’t really been an option as her suddenly vibrating phone reminded her.

“What time is Regina sending the car?” Killian asked as he dipped his head and started trailing kisses down her throat.

She hummed in pleasure, blindly swiping at her phone to dismiss the call, “Nine.  We’re having brunch with people from the label to talk about the next album and then it’s interviews for the rest of the afternoon.”

“And after all that we’ll rendezvous back here for dinner and a bit of Netflix and chill,” he murmured into her collarbone before dragging his tongue across it.

“You go-” her breath hitched as his hand travelled up her thigh, “going somewhere?”

He paused his ministrations, much to her frustration, and said somberly, “Aye, Robin still lives out here with his son.  I haven’t been in town for… well, quite a while and I’m long overdue for a visit.”

The delicious tension she’d been feeling mellowed into something warm and soothing at his earnestness.  Ever since they’d landed he’d waxed nostalgic about all the things he’d used to do in the city, places he’d eaten that he wasn’t sure were still around, venues he’d played, museums he’d spent hours getting lost in and all the interesting people he’d met in that time.  What he hadn’t mentioned once was his former bandmate and friend.  In the bright morning light streaming through the wall of windows she could see that for some reason he was nervous about seeing him again.

“You guys talk all the time,” she reminded him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair and cupping his cheek, “I interrupted one of your FaceTime dates just a couple of days ago.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye, and don’t think I haven’t received more than my fair share of nosey texts about that since.”

She blushed, forgetting that when she’d done the interrupting she’d been wearing one of his shirts and not much else.

“Seeing as Robin has come to Boston several times in the years that I’ve been there it’s only fitting that he gets to monopolize some of my time while I’m here,” he said, one shoulder lifting higher than the other in a half shrug. “I’ll be home by the time you’re done with your interviews.”

“You don’t have to rush back just for me,” she said quickly, guilt already pulling at her, “Just text me when your male bonding time is over.”

“We’ll deal with the logistics later, love,” he murmured, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to her palm, “For now I’d like to pick up where we left off before-”

Emma sighed in disappointment as her phone began to vibrate again.  Knowing that Regina was the only one who would not only call but do so before nine a.m. no matter the time zone she couldn’t ignore it.  She’d made the mistake of doing it before a show in Arizona once and had sworn Regina would have pushed her into the Grand Canyon if she’d been given the opportunity.

Gently nudging Killian off of her with an apology she sat up and grabbed her phone.  Killian sat up behind her, pushing her hair to one side as he nuzzled into her neck.  Giggling but in no way discouraging him she swiped up to answer.

Regina started talking the second the call connected, “The car will be there in thirty minutes to take you straight to the restaurant-”

“Wait, what?” Emma jerked away from Killian’s ministrations to look at the clock on the bedside table and saw it was only a little after seven. “I thought you said it’d be here at nine!”

“Plans have changed,” Regina said off-handedly. “The brunch meeting is now a breakfast meeting and I’ve pushed up one of your radio interviews to give you the time you’ll need for the streaming exclusives.”

“Exclusives?” She asked warily.

“Enchanted XM wants you to curate a ten song playlist and record intros for their Alt Rock station and then there will be an in-depth interview with one of their djs.  Snowdrops and Buttercups has been their number one request since its debut and is poised to take the number one spot on the chart next week.  It’s also been getting increasing play on their hits station.  We need to strike while the iron’s hot.”

Emma tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling as she counted to ten to keep her patience.  She was well aware that self promotion came with the territory, especially as a solo artist, and usually she had no problem giving interviews or whatever little fun extras needed to do so.  What she hated was that Regina tended to take liberties with her schedule whenever they were in a big enough city and there was extra down time.  It was all the more frustrating that Regina knew that things between her and Killian had shifted and apparently didn’t care about infringing on their time alone together.

“We’ll still be done by six right?” She asked, resigned, Killian’s warm hand gliding across her shoulders calming her much more than her counting had.

“Yes,” Regina huffed and Emma could practically hear her eyes rolling, “You and lover boy can have your romantic evening together and don’t think we won’t be discussing how to play whatever it is you two are doing to the press.”

“Really?” She growled.

“Really.”

Before Emma could even begin to shoot down that idea Regina had hung up, leaving her staring at the phone in her hand with disbelief and anger.  Even Killian’s gentle ministrations were no longer helping.

“I need to get ready,” she said mournfully, moving to stand from the bed.

Killian stopped her with a hand on her wrist, “Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, everything’s great.  The meeting with the label got moved and there’s already a car on its way.  Which normally wouldn’t be a big deal but-” she shrugged, still angry but also starting to blush, “We were getting to the good stuff.”

“That we were,” he agreed with a salacious grin.  Then the grin faded and he narrowed his eyes at her, “Was there something else she said?  You seem upset over more than just an earlier meeting.”

Emma hesitated.  As much as she wanted to share her frustration with Regina dictating her life she couldn’t do so without bringing up the questions she’d successfully avoided since the morning after they’d first slept together.  First and foremost, was what they were doing just as important to him as it was to her and if it was, then what did that mean for them once the tour was over and they returned to their respective lives.  Chickening out she figured they could talk it over later, when there wasn’t a time constraint or a full day of interviews where she’d need to keep focused.

She shook her head and smiled, “Nothing you need to worry about.  Regina just has me getting some list of songs together for some streaming thing and I have no idea what I’m going to pick.  It takes me two hours to edit the playlists I already have, how the hell am I supposed to choose ten songs and then talk about them?”

“Simple, pick one of your playlists, put it on random and the first ten songs that play are the ones you choose,” he said easily. “You already know and enjoy those songs if you spent two hours picking them and there’s no pressure of trying to curate a perfect list from scratch.”

“That’s… actually a really good idea-” she beamed, grabbing her phone and bouncing up from the bed.  She spun around and gave what she hoped was a come hither look, “You know, I hear California is in a drought.  It’d be a shame to waste water by taking separate showers.”

His lips curled wickedly, “I’d say that I love the way your mind works, Swan.”

Taking his hand she led him into the bathroom and made good use of the less than twenty minutes they had before her car arrived.  Several hours later, however, she wished she had pushed back a little more against the schedule Regina had set up for her.  Of course she’d had no way of knowing that her too short morning with Killian was going to be the least stressful of her day.

Sitting in one of the green rooms at Enchanted XM between the recording session for her song picks and her interview she let her eyes slide shut.  It had already been a long day and it was nowhere near being over and done with.  The breakfast meeting had been good, the representatives from the label had been pleased that she had already written a few songs that she felt were strong contenders for the next album and they had easily agreed to giving her three months off after the tour to work on the rest.  Even Regina had been pleased with the meeting, if her short and not too unreasonable list of demands for moving forward were any indication.

The interview she’d done directly after had been the kind that she’d gotten used to over the years.  Questions that were more often than not the same ones others had asked her time and again.  She’d gotten good at making it sound like she was hearing them for the first time and varying her answers just enough so she didn’t sound like a robot.  The best part were the teasing texts from Killian waiting for her once she was done.  She was surprised and touched that he had taken the time out of his day to listen to her interview, especially since he knew how unexciting they could be.

As her day continued Regina had left her to make her way to the Enchanted XM studios on her own.  Once there she had immediately had to get to work ironing out her list of songs and recorded the intros with the program producer.  It had been more fun than she’d anticipated.  She’d already had her choices written down in one of her ever present notebooks, having listened to a randomized playlist in the car on her way to breakfast like Killian had suggested.  The first ten songs that had played had been perfect but she’d made one substitution to make sure that a Realm of Jewels song was one of her picks.  It was her thank you to Killian for giving her the idea in the first place and a not so subtle wink to whatever was going on between them.

The producer, a woman named Gwen, had been impressed with her choices.  They’d spent nearly an hour talking them over, working through a rough script of what she would say about each one.  Then she had been taken to a small recording booth where it had taken less than an hour to get what they needed.  She’d wanted to text Killian about it but Gwen had immediately invited her to lunch and she hadn’t had the chance.  Once they’d returned to Enchanted’s headquarters she’d been asked to record a few small promos for the stations that played her songs in heavy rotation.  Not willing to say no she’d been ushered to another recording booth with barely any time to take a breath.

Being left alone in the green room was a welcome break from what had become an increasingly busy day. Just as she was about to pull out her phone for the first time since after her first interview the door opened and Regina stormed in, angrily snapping at whoever the poor soul was that was still in the hallway.

“-not recording as scheduled and I want to know why a rider was requested when nothing that is on it is in this room.  There’s not even a bottle of water.  See that it gets taken care of.”

“Of course, Ms. Mills.”

The disembodied voice wavered slightly and Emma's earlier annoyance at Regina flared back up.

“The water that’s in here is fine,” she called out, leaning forward and catching the eye of the young woman in the hallway giving her an apologetic smile.  She turned pointedly to Regina and glared, “I don’t need anything else.”

“That’s not the point,” Regina sniffed, her dark eyes narrowing followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. “Certain expectations were to be met and they weren’t.  Just one more thing this company has failed at.  I have a mind to stop booking appearances here if they’ll just be treated like this.”

“Okay, this is about something more than water bottles and a missing box of Milk Duds.  What’s going on?” Emma asked suspiciously.

Regina pursed her lips as she took out her phone and began rapidly typing.  Emma waited patiently for her to answer, knowing better than to push if she wanted to keep her head on her shoulders.  With a final tap on her screen Regina focused back on her with a wary look that immediately had her on edge.

“You were supposed to do the on air interview with Graham Humbert but apparently due to an ‘unfortunate’-” Regina rolled her eyes, “scheduling conflict you have to do it with Walsh Hoakley instead.”

Emma groaned.  An interview with Graham would have been fun and easy.  They’d both gotten their start in the business around the same time, so he not only knew what types of questions she enjoyed answering but what her boundaries were when it came to her personal life.  Walsh, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

Every interview she’d had with him had her sitting through bad jokes and his comparing her career against his own.  He had been the frontman of a pop punk group that had taken a break almost a decade before, though he insisted that it was only a matter of time before they would release another album.  It was bad enough she had to play nice as he gave her unsolicited advice but once the mics were turned off he tended to dial up his smarmy charm and invite her out for drinks or a meal.  She’d always firmly said no but he’d kept it up and after their last interview nearly two years earlier she’d told Regina that she preferred not to do any more with him.

“I thought he was with that big station in New York,” she said sullenly.

“Apparently not,” Regina sniffed.  Her eyes softened fractionally, “Do you want me to reschedule?”

“No,” she sighed, “We’re already here and I know we don’t have any time to come back while we’re still in LA.  Plus I don’t want rumors starting that I’m being difficult over Walsh Hoakley.  I don’t want to give him that honor.”

Regina smirked, “I’m sure he’d dine out on that for years.”

“He would.  So where’d you disappear to?” Emma asked, through talking about Walsh.

“I do have other clients that happen to conveniently live where their label’s offices and some of the best recording studios are,” Regina said drolly, perching herself delicately on a chair. “You might want to reexamine the benefits of moving out here after this tour is done.  You’re only going to get bigger from here on out.”

She hummed noncommittally.  For a few seconds she let herself daydream about moving into Killian’s beachfront house, waking up in his arms every morning before heading to the studio that would admittedly be leaps and bounds better than the one back in Maine.  She could almost see herself returning at the end of her day to find Killian preparing dinner in the kitchen or strumming his guitar on the balcony.  Before her thoughts went any further than that she stopped them in their tracks, forcing herself to remember all the reasons why she loved living in Storybrooke and to not let herself get wrapped up in a fantasy.  She didn’t let herself dwell on how her imaginings had given her the same feelings of home that her real memories of Storybrooke did.

Ten minutes and an increasingly impatient Regina later another assistant came to show them to the recording booth.  From behind the glass they watched as Walsh introduced the next group of songs that would be playing and teased her interview.  As soon as he switched off his mic she was ushered into the booth, shown which headphones and mic to use and then left alone with him.  To her great relief he smiled and shook her hand, seemingly not knowing that she had requested not to do interviews with him.  She smiled back, settling in the chair in front of the mic she’d been shown and adjusted everything to her liking.  As they waited for the queued songs to finish playing they made small talk about their day and the thankfully very few mutual acquaintances they had.

The interview started off well.  Walsh only mentioned his band Behind the Curtain twice and kept his advice to a minimum.  Emma found herself actually enjoying the questions he asked, responding with enthusiasm when he asked about living in Maine and her writing process.  She was so caught up in lightheartedly debating with him over notebooks versus a phone app to write lyrics that she was surprised when he mentioned that their time was drawing to a close.

“So, Emma, before you go, how has this tour been so far?  You’ve only got a few shows left right?”

“Yeah, just the last few cities heading north but it’s been really, really great,” she enthused, “This is the biggest tour I’ve ever done and the fans have been amazing in every city we’ve played.  I’m actually really looking forward to tomorrow night’s show since it’s where they have the Oscars.”

“Right, the Dolby theater, when we played it was still the Kodak and it’s a great venue.  Bigger than what you would think when you see it on tv,” Walsh said with a wink and a grin.

Emma fought against a cringe at his bad innuendo, glad that he hadn’t been like that through the whole interview.

“I haven’t had a chance to get in the space yet and, I know this is really nerdy or whatever, but I’m really excited to stand on the same stage that some of my favorite actors have been on.  I mean, some of my idols have played there and it’s always an honor to get to perform where they have too, but come on, tomorrow I could be standing in the exact spot where Meryl Streep or Tom Hanks or Oprah have stood.  Oprah!”

Walsh chuckled, “So you still get starstruck meeting other celebrities?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a nod. “I don’t even think of myself as a celebrity.  I live in the same town I mostly grew up in, all my friends are ones I’ve had since before I even thought about recording an album, I don’t even have ‘people’ or whatever.  I nearly had a heart attack seeing Lady Gaga from across the room at a benefit concert once.”

“So how was it when you met Killian Jones, famous guitarist for Realm of Jewels, before the start of your tour?”

She shot a glance to the window into the sound booth where Regina had been throughout the whole interview.  Regina barely looked up from her phone and nodded, twirling her hand in a gesture Emma took to mean keep going.  They had talked about what would happen when Killian was finally recognized but the longer they went without it happening the more she had convinced herself that they could get through the whole tour with no one the wiser.  It seemed their time was up.  Taking a deep breath to settle her racing heart she looked back at Walsh and found him watching her closely.

“I was surprised and a little annoyed actually,” she said with a small laugh. “Ruby, the guitarist I usually tour with, had broken her arm but said that she’d found her replacement for me.  The thing was she wouldn’t tell me who it was so I walked into the recording studio and Killian was there.  Realm of Jewels was one of my favorite bands, still is, so seeing him sitting there was a kinda surreal fangirl moment and intimidating too, knowing how good of a guitarist he is.”

“Rumors have been circulating on social media for a few weeks that it was Killian onstage for your tour and then earlier this afternoon uber-producer Robin Locksley seemed to confirm it-” Walsh pulled up a sheet of paper and began reading, “He said in an interview: ‘I’m very excited to begin working with Killian Jones on new music and other projects moving forward.  He’s been touring the past few weeks as a backing guitarist and he told me it’s been a great first step to getting back out there.  I was even fortunate enough to hear a few rough cuts of songs he’s already written for a new solo album and they’re amazing.  I really can’t wait.’  Since you’ve confirmed it yourself have you heard any of his new songs while on the road?  He’s already with your label and turns out he signed on with your manager Regina Mills back in March so will the rest of the tour be a double bill?  Maybe even a possibility of a duet in the future?”

Emma felt dazed, like she’d been hit with a pillow shot out of a cannon.  She had completely forgotten that Robin had become a music producer after Liam and Milah had died.  He’d even sent her an email after her last album had been released, saying he wanted to work with her at some point.  That little detail was nothing compared to the realization that Killian hadn’t mentioned that his lunch with Robin was really about business.  He hadn’t even hinted that he had whole songs written let alone recorded anything.  Worst of all was that he had signed on with Regina before he’d joined the tour and she knew without a doubt Regina would do anything necessary to further a client’s career.  Especially if the final outcome would prove advantageous for two clients at once.

“I, uh, haven’t listened to anything he’s recorded-”

Her phone buzzed at her elbow.  There were several notifications but the preview screen showed a text from Regina.  She opened it in a daze.

Regina: No double billing, play coy about duet, plug rest of tour, still seats in Vancouver

The fog she’d been in cleared away as white hot anger took its place.  She looked at Regina through the glass and found her making the same ‘continue on’ motion she had before.  There was no sign of an apology on her features, only impatience and  the ever present look of expectation that she perform well.  While acting wasn’t her forte she was more than ready to give the performance of a lifetime.

“Killian was only brought on temporarily until Ruby was well enough to play again.  Luckily her recovery happened to work out perfectly with us arriving in LA-” she knew she sounded too upbeat but pushed through, “I’m sorry to dash any hopes but Killian has decided to stay here and focus on his own music.  Ruby will be back for tomorrow night’s show and will be finishing out the tour.  We’re sold out for most of those shows but I think there’s still some tickets left for Vancouver, but not many.”

“So, no duet?” Walsh asked hopefully and Emma wasn’t sure if he meant musically or hinting at something between her and Killian.

“Nope,” she said decisively, her heart cracking as she did. “I’ll be taking some time off after this tour is done.  Rest and relaxation are the only duets I’ll be performing any time soon.”

Walsh laughed, “Now that’s a duo everyone loves.  Well, Emma, it’s been great talking to you.”

“You too,” she said with feigned pleasure.

“Here’s Emma’s latest single ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’ which has been flying up the charts.  Safe to say you’ll be playing it tomorrow?”

“Yup.  It’s been fun to see the responses get more enthusiastic as it gets played on the radio more,” she said, finally feeling like she was being genuine.

“That’s always a great feeling,” Walsh said with a grin. “Alright, here it is ‘Snowdrops and Buttercups’. Thanks for stopping by, Emma.”

“Thanks for having me.”

As the first notes of her song filled the studio Emma ripped off the headphones, ignoring the constant buzz of her phone at her elbow.  She wasn’t sure who it was that was calling, she’d told everyone important to her about the interview and she knew they had probably all tuned in to listen.  With the way her pulse was pounding in her temples she wasn’t too sure she could keep herself from unfairly snapping at whoever it was and whatever questions they were going to have.

“Emma?”

She looked up at Walsh and by the way his grin faltered a bit she was sure that her anger was painted clear across her face.

“Yeah?”

“Er, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink?” He asked hesitantly. “Talk a little shop, maybe?”

“I already have plans,” she said shortly, the words tasting like the ashes of the evening she originally thought she’d be having.

“Coffee then? Or lunch?  I’m up for anything really,” He said with a wink and a chuckle.

“Look, I don’t know how much more clear I can make this but I’m not ‘up’ for doing anything with you,” she snapped, his annoying persistence the final straw. “I thought that you’d gotten better than the last time you tried this but apparently not.”

She snatched up her phone and turned to leave when she heard him scoff and mutter something under his breath.  She spun back to face him.

“Wanna share with the whole room?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said with a sneer that twisted his face into something vicious. “You act all high and mighty but you’re just a step away from falling into obscurity just like me.  That whole thing about Jones was given to me by your people and by tomorrow morning both your careers will be reaping the benefits from it.  I could have helped you along even further with the contacts I have in this business.”

Emma gaped at him, “By going out with you?  Classy, you sack of shit.”

Something flashed in Walsh’s eyes, “You-”

“Emma!  Let’s go, now.”

For half a second she was grateful that Regina had burst into the room, then she remembered why she was angry in the first place.  She brushed past her, ignoring her stream of hissing admonishments and the stuttered apologies of the producer.  Halfway back to the green room she realized her phone was still buzzing non-stop.  Her stomach lurched, not wanting to know if it was Killian calling when she was walking the thin line between yelling at him or breaking down in tears.  Steeling herself she finally looked at the screen and breathed a sigh of relief, swiping to answer.

“Ruby, pack your shit.  I need you in LA tonight.”

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Hiraeth (Pt. 3)

(a/n: I've decided that im going to start posting new parts on my wattpad a few days before I post here as a sort of early access sort of thing… please consider checking it out!)

"Movie night?" You were sipping another iced coffee, this one of your keurig's creation. In front of you stood four girls trying to worm their way into your room.

"Really more of a girl's movie night." Sierra smiled, looking innocent. At least, as innocent as she could be. "Besides, we have nail polish. And face masks!"

You knew better than to argue so instead, you just sighed and moved out of the doorway, allowing them entrance into your room. God help you if you got caught having a sleepover on a school night, especially with students from another house.

When it came time for you to pick a movie, a wave of nostalgia overtook you, and you found yourself selecting The Princess Bride.

"OMG. I loved this movie when I was a kid." Sierra currently had on a sheet mask that made her look like a panda bear and was painting Kaykay's nails a bright shade of bubblegum pink.

"Me, too. I always wanted to find someone like Wesley." Kaykay sighed into her chocolate bar. You kept a stash on hand for kids who were feeling down, but let the girls raid it. Just this once.

"I forgot how dumb Buttercup was. She contributes nothing but problems to the entire movie." Kaykay's comment mirrored your own thoughts on the princess, not that you had expected her to have seen The Princess Bride before.

"Yeah, Buttercup definitely does not pass the Bechdel test." Crystal was admiring Sierra's handiwork on her own nails, hers a shade of bright blue.

You scoffed. "Are you kidding me? Buttercup invented the Bechdel test. A sexy lamp could have contributed more to the plot line than she did."

The girls laughed, each of them still watching Buttercup crying over Wesley despite the teasing.

"Damn. I wonder if there are any Wesleys around here." It was Sierra who first brought it up. The boy talk. It happened at every sleepover. You were expecting it, but that didn't mean that you were prepared for it.

"I don't know. Maybe." Crystal said. "I'll tell you who's not a Wesley, though. Ashton. That man is the biggest player I've ever met."

"Um, have you met Michael Clifford?" Kaykay gave Crystal the side eye, as if she was offended on Michael's behalf.

"Not only have I met him, but I've had to watch him flex during chapel." Sierra shuddered. "It's terrifying."

"I dread the day Luke becomes interested in girls." You gave a low chuckle. "He's still in the "girls have cooties" stage right now."

"Literally the only guy who I could even remotely see in a relationship aside from Ashton is Hood." Kaykay looked at you the entire time she talked. Which meant she definitely saw you blush at the thought of Hood in a relationship.

Sierra grinned, but she didn't push you. All she needed was that blush. Girls' night was super fun, and she was gonna force all of you to do this more often, but Sierra would be a liar if she said there were no ulterior motives for said girls' night. This was icing on the cake.

She and Kaykay met eyes, sharing small smiles. There was still much work to be done, but they were off to a great start.

Hood was starstruck by you, that much was clear to Sierra.

The stoic man the group once thought they knew had been reduced basically to a puppy. He 'escorted' you to and from all your classes, sat next you at all the meals, chatted you up over coffee on weekends. He even smiled and laughed at pretty much everything you said.

Sierra hadn't even known that Hood was capable of getting above a smirk on the smiling scale. Judging from the blush that had spread across your face, you were feeling much of the same. Although, you did seem to be better at hiding it that Hood, who froze every time he saw you. Without fail. Every. Single. Time.

Sierra had known from the very beginning what a great match you two were for each other, but even she couldn't have predicted this mess of emotions. You two were into each other, that was obvious. Now she just had to trick you into making it obvious to each other.

...

"I'm dying." Sierra banged her head down onto the table dramatically, sighing loudly. She raised her head ever so slightly to see if you was paying attention to her, and sighed louder when she realized you were not.

"Well, maybe you could be considerate and be a bit more quiet as you ease into the cold embrace of death?" You didn't look up from your book, trying to find that one specific bit about cellular mitosis in your textbook. Biology was a bitch for you, and the moaning coming from your study buddy didn't make things easier.

"Ughhhhh." Great, more moaning. Sierra was going to be the death of you, dragging you into the afterlife with her. You slammed the book shut, reached into your wallet and threw a twenty at her, watching as it dejectedly fluttered to a stop next to her arm.

"Go get us coffee, then. Take a break." You reopened the book, not even bothering to make sure she left. The upcoming test was stressing you out, and you really hadn't planned on taking multiple children under your wing when thinking about studying hours.

"Hey." God, what now?  Or, more accurately, who now? It was always someone doing something with this group, and you were exhausted right now. You didn't think you could handle another crisis.

"What?" You closed your book with a whack, the word coming out like canine teeth in a fight.

When you looked up, it was just in time to see Calum hiding a flinch. You mentally sighed, regretting your words.

"Um, I was just gonna ask if you were okay?" Calum's hand came up to scratch the back of his head, the other holding his backpack on his shoulder. He looked a bit sick, almost as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Not really." The words were thinly veiled with impatience. You were barely halfway through the first unit and there were still two more to go after this, and that was only for biology.

"Oh, um, anything I can do to help?" Calum swallowed thickly. He should have never come over here. He knew you didn't like him, were only tolerating him for the rest of the group. God, he wanted to run. Just as fast as his legs could take him away from here. How could he be dumb enough to think you liked him?

"Yeah, peace and quiet." You didn't even get the word 'peace' out before Calum mumbled out a 'bye' and walk-sprinted away from you, straight out of the library.

It was weird, but it was also a bit too late to track him down and force his feelings out of him now.

...

One foot, then the other. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Hood kept repeating the mantra over and over, synchronizing his arms and legs to mold the air around him. He cut through it, gliding and fighting, gasping as he rounded the corner of the field once again. The air didn't stay in his lungs long enough, making them burn, and cramping his sides. But he could still replay the conversation with you in his head in perfect detail, so he kept running. He'd stay out here all night if he had to.

Because after running, he could always practice shooting. And then dribbling. And then whatever came to his mind next.

When you had said peace and quiet... you had sounded exactly like...

Hood shook his head, sprinting the next lap to push that thought away. You had been funny and kind, that night in the library closet. Just truth and idiocy, drunk on exhaustion. Then that night in the car. When it was just you and him and the stars. You had laughed, and teased, and sang softly to every song on the radio. It was honest. He thought you were a good person.

So why had you tricked him into believing you liked him?

Suddenly, the stitch in his side turned into a heart attack. The shortness of breath from running became air escaping his lungs and never coming back. He footsteps slowed, his feet muddling together until one of them caught on the other and sent him stumbling to to ground. He couldn't even see the grass to catch himself. His vision had gone kaleidoscopic, all darkness and spots.

This was it. He was about to die.

He couldn't get air in, couldn't stop shaking enough to get to his bag and text someone. They'd find his body in the morning, probably. Here, drenched in sweat and bile.

"Hey, Calum!" You had noticed Calum running laps earlier as you walked back to the dorms from the library. Things had ended weird with the two of you earlier, and you wanted a chance to, if not fix it, at least figure out what was going on. You assumed he was still peeved, though. Even after calling his named again, he still hadn't looked up.

"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. I know I said peace and quiet to you, but I was hardcore projecting Sierra's chattery-ness onto you." You plopped down next to him slipping off your sandals and beginning to lace up your cleats. Calum still didn't look up.

"Hey." You nudged his shoulder, only to have your hand come away drenched in sweat. Weird. You looked at the boy sitting next to you a bit closer, noting him sort of shivering, even though he was burning up, and the way he wasn't quite breathing, but ... panting. Shit. "Calum. Hey. Look at me."

Realization hit you like a truck. He wasn't mad or ignoring you. He was having a panic attack. You scooted closer to him, gently cupping his cheeks in you hands and bringing his face up to meet your eyes. They darted around wildly for a moment before zeroing in on yours.

"Cal. You are okay. I need you to breathe for me, okay bud?" These sort of situations... they weren't new to you. It hurt you to be able to say that, but you were grateful for it at least for right now. "Come. Focus."

The first thing he felt was cold. Cold hands, right on his face. They felt nice on his feverish skin. The hands brought his head up, moving his head for him, since his neck was incapable. Everywhere was too bright, the was too much to take in. But your eyes... he could focus on your eyes. Slowly, painfully, you got him to breathe. In four, hold seven, out eight. Hood knew the exercises. He pretty much wrote the book on them. But they were so much easier when they came from you. Hood watched as the sun set behind you, escaping in a way Hood only wished he could.

...

"Hey Luke, wait up!" You jogged along the covered pathway, trying to catch up to your favorite child-genius. Luke was lost in his own little world. He was reading and walking again, which you and Crystal had both told him not to do anymore. He was doing it anyway.

Which, of course, meant that Luke didn't see him until it was too late.

Torrin. God, you hated that asshole. He had been giving Luke crap the entire time you had known him and probably before that, as well. So, when you saw Torrin hone his attention in on Luke, you dropped your crap right there and kicked your jog up to a sprint.

You got there a split second too late to stop Torrin from slapping Luke's book out of his hands. That was about as far as you would let him get, though.

"What the hell, Torrin?" Just like that you were in front of Luke, pushing him behind you, shielding him with your body.

"What?" The asshole had the gall to smirk, putting his hands into his pockets. God, you wanted to slap that grin right off his smug face. "I'm just teasing."

"Yeah, last time your 'teasing' resulted in him having to buy a new book bag and replace all his notebooks." You growled the words out.

"Fuck off, bitch. This is between me and the twerp." Torrin was never bright enough to grasp the concept of patience.

"Hey, better idea. Go fuck yourself." You watched as the bullies features contorted into pure rage, the kind only testosterone and teenage angst could encite.

"I'm done with you." Torrin grabbed your shoulders, pushing you away from Luke, who tried to back away.

Oh, this was gonna be bad. You remember thinking that specifically, that part was one of the only moments of clarity you had. Everything sort of blurred after you decked Torrin square on his chin, knocking him flat on his ass.

…

tags: @rbforsmileycal​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​

[random-imagines-blog]

Crash Love {Davey Havok x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2822 Summary: You keep notebooks of your writing, sort of like journals. And the person that you write about the most happens to find one.

The water brushed up against the shore in light waves. It was a rather calm day in the late fall, so there weren’t many people actually out here on the beach today, which made it absolutely perfect. It was perfect sweater weather, your favorite cardigan wrapped around your body keeping the warmth in. You had taken off your shoes though, and were digging your toes into the cool sand. In the Summer, it was much too hot to walk across barefoot, but now, it was deliciously cool. Your favorite time of year. Your soy latte was beside you, having dug it into the sand so it wouldn’t fall over, and your notebook was on your lap - you felt like you were in your own little paradise, ready to forget about the world around you for a little while. Your best friend, the person that you were writing about in your notebook, wouldn’t be around for another hour, so you felt safe in putting your feelings down about him. He couldn’t try to peek at it, the way that he usually did.

You were even using a pen that he had gotten for you as part of your birthday gift. It wouldn’t be Davey if it didn’t have some sort of darkness to it. Rather than just being your average pen, it looked like skulls stacked on top of one another, but was surprisingly easy to grip.

The pages of the unassuming notebook were mainly full with all sorts of things. Poems, short stories, notes on things that you meant to write about but never got to do, even doodles. It had been your faithful companion for almost a year, and would need replacing within the month. There were only a couple of pages left. You meant to make them count. Once you were done with this notebook, it would be going straight into the lockbox under your bed, among the others from previous years. You didn’t have much of value except for your thoughts and your words, so they were the only things that took up the lockbox.

Putting pen to paper, you let the words flow. Many people, including past English teachers, had told you that you had a gift for words, and they had expected big things out of you. A best selling author or something among those lines, but you never quite lived up to those expectations. You preferred to keep your words private. Your own secret little pleasures.

‘Just as the waves pound against the shore, again and again I find it even harder that I am meant to pretend That my heart isn’t the sand, being pushed down hard By your smile, your eyes, which put me on guard California itself is cold when you leave it here alone I hide myself in sweaters which you have outgrown You go around the world like a bird spreading wings I watch you on TV and miss the little things Like the way your piercing hits my cheek when we hug Or the way your cologne keeps me in a state of fugue’

You left it there for now. It wasn’t as happy as some of the other things that you wrote, but knowing that he was going to be taking off for a tour in Europe hurt. And you would have to pretend to be happy for him and all of his success. You were immensely proud of him, he was getting everything that he deserved and worked so hard for but -

-but you could selfish sometimes and want him for yourself. It had been you two throughout high school, and then at University until he dropped out to focus on music full time. You didn’t even hold fault with the rest of the boys for taking him away, finding a sort of family with Jade, Adam and Hunter eventually. But you just didn’t have the connection with them that you had with Davey. And you knew it was because you were in love with him.

You turned back to something happier that you had written a couple of days ago, after Davey had taken you out to dinner, just as something fun to do.

‘For once, clouds overhead resemble me and you Though I’m glad for gravity to keep me like glue With feet on the ground, we walk side by side Though with your talents, I’d say, more like a glide My head upon your shoulder, and arm entwined with yours You only let go to kindly open up the doors The smell of the the spices, the delicious food, oh- I love you so much, just please, watch me glow.’

You heard footsteps coming up the sand. It was quiet, but distinct, so you immediately closed up the notebook and placed it under your legs where it won’t blow away if a gust of wind were to come about. You looked over your shoulder to see the familiar figure approaching. Your heart was beating fast just looking at him. Although he looked amazing when he was on the stage, dressed up and full of make up, you thought he looked his best just as he was now. His hair was sticking out from beneath his hood at odd angles, his tongue was flicking against his lip ring, his eyes were crinkled from the smile that he was giving you. Just a natural beauty, in your opinion.

“You’re early,” You said, patting on a hard patch of sand beside you, wanting him to sit down. He did, sliding into the spot, his legs splayed out in front of him. He moved the hood from off of his head, showing off his freshly shaved sides. It was tradition for him to get a haircut before the tour started.

“Are you complaining?” He teased. He picked up your drink, which had gone cold in the time that you were out here, though it was still half full. He took a sip, smacked his lips, then put it back where it had been. You rolled your eyes at how he just welcomed himself to your things. It was as if the only thing that really was private were your writings. He’d even taken some of your clothes before. In fact, you were pretty sure that it was one of your t-shirts that was sticking out from beneath his sweater.

“I was hoping to get more done by the time you got here, but alas,” You sighed, dramatically.

“Writing again?” He asked, seeing the notebook underneath your legs.

“When aren’t I?” You said, teasing yourself. “I might even finish another notebook by the time that you get back. You’re bringing me souvenirs, right? I really want a little replica of the Eiffel Tower for my collection.”

“I’ve already bought you two,” Davey pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing the real thing. We can’t all be rock stars,” You nudged him, making him laugh.

“Never know - you could do something with all those words you scribble down.” He tapped the top of the notebook and you moved it out of his reach possessively. It was from him especially that you hid those words from. He was content to just be friends with you and the idea of ruining that was devastating. Even more so than this stupid unrequited love crap that you hoped would only be in books, but you were living through.

“Definitely not,” You shook your head. “Besides, as I’ve demonstrated for you time and time again, I cannot sing. Wasn’t it Hunter who rushed in the room, thinking that I was killing a cat?”

Davey laughed at the memory, and had to nod, which didn’t offend you in the slightest. You knew that you didn’t have the pipes to be a rockstar. Davey used to think that it would be great to have you as a backup singer or something of the sort so you could be a part of the band, but your little demonstration had put an end to that.

The two of you sat on the beach for a couple of hours, enjoying the solitude of the day, and the calm weather which rarely came into California. He even used his phone to deliver Starbucks to their location, tipping the delivery guy generously for coming out onto the sand so that the two of you could have your coffees. You listened to him go on about the busy tour schedule, and how he didn’t have much hope of sightseeing beyond the van and the venue.

“But I’ll get you your damn replica,” Davey assured you, making you smile with hope. More than anything, you wanted to go with him, but it really was just band and crew only. You and Davey already tried that, but the record label, who was paying for everything, had put their foot down.

“My collection thanks you,” You grinned. “Oh, maybe next time you’re in Asia, you could pick me up one of those little Tokyo Tower ones. It’s almost the same, but red.”

“What, you have enough of them that you need colors now?” Davey asked, looking at his phone and pulling a face. “I have to go - practice and packing...”

“Do you need any help?” You asked, hoping to spend a little extra time with him, but he shook his head.

“The last time that you helped me back, you somehow replaced all my underwear with speedos. Not happening.” He got to his feet and then helped you to do the same. You loved the warmth of his hand. This little bit of contact was the most that you could hope for and you savored it immensely. But it ended all too soon. “Want a ride home?”

“With the way that you drive? No way,” You stuck your tongue out. He was infamous for being a horrible driver, and even you who barely saw his flaws thought so. “I’ll just walk, it’s not far.”

“Okay,” He said, shooting you one of his infamous smiles. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“Just promise me you won’t look at it while you’re driving.”

-

You had never felt so frazzled or stressed out in your life. This was worse than the time that you had slept in before exams in your final year of University. This was worse than the interviewing process to get your current position. This was even worse than the time that Jade had set you up with his brother on a date, and it had turned out to be the most awkward experience of your life!

Your notebook was missing.

You couldn’t remember the last time that you had it but you had a feeling that it was at the beach. But you would never forget it there, would you? You weren’t stupid enough to just leave it for someone to find. It didn’t have your name in it, or your address so no one could link it to you if they actualy found it but ... it was still mortifying.

You walked where you had been the day before with Davey, going down the same path and stopping in what you were pretty sure was the same spot. Nothing. So this either meant that it wasn’t where you had lost it, or someone had picked it up. You grew so frustrated with yourself - how could you lose something that was so close to you all of the time? And even worse, the special pen that Davey had gotten you was tucked in among the pages.

You dragged your way back home, only to see that there was a black car in your driveway. From the dent in the bumper, you could tell that it was Davey’s. He had a key to your place, so he wasn’t waiting outside, but still - you couldn’t think of why he would be here. You entered your place, and looked around to see that he wasn’t anywhere in sight. “You better not be drinking all of my almond milk!” You shouted. You walked into your kitchen, and rather than him being the first thing that you noticed, it was the notebook, sitting on the counter. You knew that you hadn’t left it there, having walked through this kitchen a dozen times in your search. You stopped in the entryway, and forced yourself to look onto Davey’s face.

“I noticed it when you were walking away,” He said, opening up the notebook. Your jaw dropped at the audacity that he had. He knew that it was private. You had never let him even peek inside one of your books before, and here was, flipping through it like he was looking for something in particular. Did he have the pages memorized? “I was going to give it to you but you were already gone.”

“So you just went through it?” You asked, marching forward to try to take it from him, but he held it out of your reach. High above his head, with the page facing down so that he could read whatever page had interested him. You tugged on his arm, but he was relentless.

“I’m glad that he doesn’t know that he’s all I think about, He doesn’t feel the same way, I have no doubt. I’m glad that he doesn’t know that I dream about his mouth The way he kissed me cheek on vacation, down south. I’m glad that he doesn’t know that I want to share house So that at night be can help unbutton my blouse I’m glad that he’ll never find any of this out He’s someone that I could never live without-”

“Please stop,” You pleaded with him. And he did. He just flicked his tongue at his lip ring again, sucking on it slightly, thinking about something. “Would you believe me if I told you they were about someone else?”

“No.”

“Thought not,” You said. Davey lowered his arms and you took the book out of his grip, slamming it shut before he could peek anymore. But he had all night. He probably read everything. You’ve never felt more mortified in your life.

The only sound was that of the ticking clock which hung on your wall. The seconds were passing by. “Can you maybe say something?” You asked, finally, unable to take it anymore. “Like - I don’t know - we’re not friends anymore and leave?”

“Why would I leave?” He asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“Why would you stay?” You asked in return.

He didn’t answer you with his words. Rather, his lipring was against your lips now, still slightly wet from his tongue, which was all that you could focus on. Until you realized that his arm was sneaking by you, trying to get the notebook again. You pulled yourself away, came to terms with what just happened, and then gasped loudly. “What-”

“What?” Davey asked, snatching the book before you could take it back, and hid it inside of hoodie. “It’s all very cute - really. Why didn’t you read me any of it before?”

Your mouth opened and closed, and you felt like a fish trapped out of water. “Why do you think?” You finally sputtered out. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, still feeling the metal against them. Still feeling that kiss. “Because they’re silly and it’s humiliating!”

“They’re not silly. You’ve got some good material here,” Davey said, hugging it close to his chest so you couldn’t attempt to get it. You didn’t. He’d already seen everything. There was no point in trying to get it now. “It’s just kind of funny...”

“What is?”

“I’ve been trying to use my lyrics to get through to you,” He said, smiling. You were glad he looked so happy, but the situation didn’t seem to call for it. You were still more confused than anything. “Not as sappy as your poems but-”

You hit him in the arm, and he laughed and took a step back. “You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah, and I feel like one since I still have to leave tomorrow,” He frowned, the light leaving his eyes. Still, now that you weren’t hitting him, he approached you once more, and wrapped you in one of his infamous hugs. It felt different now though. It had more meaning. “I shouldn’t ask you to wait for me-”

“Are you kidding? I thought you read this book - I’ve been waiting for years. What’s another couple of months?”

[myfeetkeepdancing]

One Last Effort  | Tom Holland x Male!Reader

Warning: Smut

Request:  Can you do a smutty bottom Tom x top male reader where they're both closeted actors and costars in some big movie and the tension between them gradually rises until the last day of filming when it comes to a head and they just let it all out in one of their dressing rooms

A final push clicks the mechanism of your suitcase shut. The end of an era. It has something emotional about it. But you weren’t going to admit to it. You pop yourself beside the suitcase on the mattress. Eyeing the trailer, you spend the last months in, recollecting all the treasured memories you made here. Not only this trailer. But also around it. The studios. The stage. Your co-stars all had one, lined alongside the studio. A journey that started far and foreign. Alone and lonely. New co-stars and colleagues. Adjusting your way of living, getting into the flow of filming. Long tiresome days, but with rewarding results. And most important, feeling valued for what you do — being acknowledged at what your best at doing.

Within no time, co-stars started becoming friends. The crew was becoming more than colleagues, making the long days bearable. Dining with the crew, instead of alone in the trailer, going out with co-stars, instead of hanging in your trailer at night. The whole experience was turning out to be a life-defining experience. But all that joy and fun came and abrupt ending.

Months seem long. A year even more so. But once the daily routine, and the things you do become enjoyable. Time has no grasp on you anymore. The most memorable birthday to date was celebrated largely at the studios. Emotional moments were filmed with real pain and feeling. And so was the last day at the studio. In hang in the air for weeks. The tension was tangible between everyone. Sharing the last moments on the screen together. It kept you awake at night. The thought that this was the final moment together. There was no part for any of you in the post production. And if there was, it was voice acting. Something that could be done at home.

Then there was that one person. Tom Holland. You had known him. Years before you got the news, you looked up to him. Admired him. And more.

 Thank the Gods for that first meeting. That moment you met him was magical. From day one, you hit it off. In a good way. You were sure that from day one, some sort of spark hit you. You could feel it. Almost sense it. There was more to it. But who was going to take a shot at it? Risk it all?

 In the months to come, you had shared vast amounts of time with each other. Met his family, friends, and shared memorable moments. Becoming far more than just co-stars, making that last day on set extremely difficult. Hugged, laughed and finally shed a small tear. It was inevitable. Each was going their own way.

Now you were alone. Waiting for the taxi to arrive. Your conscience bothering you. Eating at you, the fact you didn’t tell him how you felt. You let him go. For a moment, you trapped in your own thoughts.

“(Y/N)?” The trailer door creaks open. “H-Hey!”

Snapping from your somewhat daydream you look up at Tom coming through the door. “Get that look from your face. C’mon!” Reaching out to you open arms.

“Oh shut it, Tom.” Waving away his open arms. “I clearly remember seeing you cry as well. Don’t you hate these days?”

“More than you, trust me.” Showing a thin smile. “But I believe-...” Looking about the room. “-you still have my hoodie.”

“I don’t, Tom.” You chuckle lightly. Thinking back to that one night.

“It has to be!” Opening random drawers and closet doors around the trailer. Before locking his gaze onto your suitcase. “You’re were going to take it home, weren’t you?” Pacing towards your suitcase.

You turn your body towards him and pull his arm away. “Don’t you look in there, Tom.”

“What? Why not? Whatcha hidin’ there?” His smile turning in a devilish grin. “You got some of my underwear as well?”

“To be fair, I haven’t had the chance-” You grin, rising to your feet. “-to ask for it.”

“You know… You didn’t ask for my hoodie…” Closing the distance between you. His breath brushing past your skin. His one hand holding onto your shoulder, as he leans into your ear and whispers. “So maybe you should… take it…while you can.” You feel the goosebumps shoot across your skin.

The distance between the two of you was dangerously close — the tension thickening. You catch the sparks glitter in his eyes as he moves back. Your bodies yearning for one and the other. But hesitation holding you both back. Not sure who’s going to take the first step.

“How about you?” You let your fingers brush past his hips, sliding one finger along his belt, pulling him in like an anchor. Your lips were hovering past each other, nearly touching. “Do you want anything… in particular?”  

“Well…” He says while his eyes look about your figure. Before meeting your gaze again. “I’m looking for something-… He pauses as his strong arms reach around you. Pulling you tenderly against him. “-memorable.” Feeling his muscular body pressed against yours. “Got an idea?” He says with a cocky edge.

“I can help you with that…” You wrap your arms around his neck. “But it involves your underwear.”

“Good...” He grins. “Cause it’s starting to get a bit tight down there…”

His lips part before engulfing yours in a long passionate kiss. Your bodies finally finding each other. Moaning deeply into the kiss. Tom becoming fiercer the moment your fingers run along the waistband of his pants. Tom flips your suitcase across the floor so violently. Clothes fly all through the room. Pushing you to mattress, undoing each other of clothes with substantial ferocity. All the pent up energy from past weeks released within seconds. You had teased and played with each other for long enough. Locked in the embrace of love and desire. You both wrestle naked on the mattress, worshipping each other’s body with unrelentless desire, rolling back and forth as you both desperately crave more. Kissing every inch of each other’s skin, sucking and caressing as much as each can. Tom eventually succumbs to his nerves. Lying flat on his back, breathing heavily, his fingers intertwined into your locks of hair as you caress his abs with your lips. Soft moans circle the trailer. You halt and gaze upwards, feeling your hips being clasped by his legs. He cups your cheeks and brings your lips to his. Kissing you violently. Before suddenly pulling you away from his lips. Demanding your attention. “I want you to do me…” He says. “Fuck me (Y/N)” He groans. Right here, right fucking now.” Grinding his pelvis against you.

Before he’s able to utter another word, you have placed your tip at his entrance and push lightly against his hole. Before continuing, you circle a wet finger around his hole. Tom moans out loudly. The anticipation driving Tom mad. Startled by his reaction, you gaze at his lust, overflowing face. Craving you more than anything else. His cock in front of you, standing up in full glory. You’re mesmerized by his meaty shaft and all its veins. All converging to a big throbbing head a top. The reason for your nightly wet dreams. It’s wonderful. You feel your throat falling dry. Feeling yourself harden by the second. “Ram it into me (Y/N)!” He snarls, pulling you back into reality.

You hesitate for a moment. Slowly pushing into him. As soon as you feel the tightness wrap around you. A long a powerful thrust from your pelvis pushes you all the way into him. The warmth and wetness gliding far and deep. Tom’s back arches upward, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. An intense moan sounds through the trailer. “Yes, babe!” He cries out. “Just like that...”

You grab both his shoulders firmly, and start rolling your hips, holding his figure back against your thrust. And begin to slide in and out with increasing speed. The sound of naked flesh slapping against each other was soon overshadowed by cries of pleasure from Tom. His muscled body now under complete control of your shaft, you snatch the pillow beside you and shove it under his hips. Arching his ass more towards you. You reposition along and continue ramming into him. The effect immediately noticeable, feeling yourself gliding much deeper. Not only for yourself.

Tom’s eyes widen, gasping loudly as he arches upward. But you have his body tight into a grasp. Pushing him down again. His lips quiver as he tries to utter a word. His arms fall beside him like a ragdoll. Rendered motionless. Only air escapes his mouth. And the deeper you ram into him, the tighter it feels. Squeezing your member more and more. You feel the edge coming closer. 

Tom’s body shudders under your hands, the sweat making it difficult to hold onto him. His head rolls back, eyes close, and suddenly a long white string lands onto his face. Another lands along his jawline and more on his neck. It never seems to stop. You clench onto his figure and feel a sudden jolt of pleasure shoot down into your hips. And groan uncontrollably as it passes outwards through your member. You shudder and shake as you watch Tom unload himself. Tom eyes instantly lock into your gaze, feeling what’s happening. Before the final spurts sprinkle on his chest. The shaking and shuddering stops and the two bodies collide into a panting mess of flesh and wetness.

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

“Finally got one...” You smile, spinning Tom’s underwear on your finger. A chuckle followed by a tender brush of his fingers along your jaw, he turns your face towards him. Rolling you onto your side, his lips finding yours.

“Well, I’ve got plenty more...” Tom whispers after releasing your lips. His fingers ghosting along your figure.

“Underwear?”

“Oh, you name it, love. Just as long as every piece counts towards this...” His fingers run along your pelvis, Tom grins. “We’re going to be busy for a while.”

“You include socks as well?”

“Fuck yeah…” He grins, pushing you down onto the sheet, throwing one leg over, taking place on top of you. Both his hands cupping the sides of your face, kissing you long and intense. “And they’re going a piece. Not per pair.” He mumbles into the kiss.

[saeranin]

If it's not too lewd for you, how about rfa+minor trio's reaction to mc giving them head for the first time?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  (nsfw! some of these turned out really long... also vanderwood is my fave so thank you for that!!) 

YOOSUNG

the blushing mess who used to be known as yoosung kim laid on top of you on the bed. you’d slid down his body, leaving kisses all over his smooth, shuddering skin. “a-ahh, mc… that’s not fair…” he groaned against the pillow he’d shoved his face against.

you teased him with your fingers, pressing the tip of his length and the slickness that followed. you grabbed his hip and pulled him towards your mouth.

he propped on his elbows, clawing at the pillow when your tongue flicked over him. he felt like his knees would slip and he’d crash over you. “h-hey… let me onto my back…” he hissed.

“yoosung...”

“mhhmm… y-yeah?”

“thrust, please.”

he clenched his jaw, turning to look at you sprawled underneath him. “d-don’t do this to me…” he whined.

“please?”

oh goddamn it. he jerked his hips harshly, his cock hitting your throat. his thrusting was uneven until you placed a steadying hand on his thigh. your other hand reached for his ass, squeezing him closer.

“pull away,” he growled, sweat dripping down his neck. “i’m serious, pull away…!”

you pushed him further and he blew his load on your chest with a emptying groan. he tilted on his back, finally, and buried his face in his hands. you slid up to his side, lifting his arm so you could lean against his chest.

“are you okay?” you frowned. maybe you’d overdone it.

“you’re asking me? i should be asking you that!” he ranted. “i’m… more than okay… that blew my mind…”

you were ready to be caught in the sweet embrace of sleep when you felt yourself being pulled over him by your hands. he slid downwards, grabbing your thighs hard enough to keep you from leaving his hold.

“but i’m not gonna let you onto your back, either.”

ZEN

the empty teathre he had brought you to see was too good to be true. and he would perform here in less than a month.

“please, don’t forget me when you become a shooting star,” you grinned, pushing him down on one of the seats in the audience. he looked at you, dumbfounded and hard.

he trembled so bad he had to grab something to keep himself from thrusting up at your mouth. he chose to hold on to the back of the seat, pushing his legs down hard.

remember that one phone call where you send him a kiss and he goes all MMMPFFGH. yeah, that’s him now.

“just let yourself go, zenny,” you gazed up at him from between his legs.

and he went into overdrive.

his groans echoed across the empty stage, his hips jerking up at you. “shit, shit, shit….” he kept crying out, feeling himself leak.

you just laughed, putting on a show for him. you held his gaze the whole time taking him in your hand and licking up his whole length, giving his tip a slow, finishing kiss.

and he just burst. he bent down, grabbing your shoulders and calling out for the saints. he was almost in tears, finally realizing how much he had held back with you before now.

“…… there’s a couch backstage,” he said as he tucked himself back and yanked you up with a wolfish grin.

JUMIN

let’s make him make him flustered, was the thought that started it. you dangled from his office couch, gazing at him upside down from where you had sprawled yourself to wait for him. no one was at the office anymore, and you had been waiting for him to wrap up for… well, just too long.

the sunlight that poured through the glass walls hit him just right, lining him with gold and honey. “just a bit longer, my love,” you heard him say. he didn’t even look up at you. for a moment, you felt bad for interrupting his thoughts, but boredom was too strong of a foe.

you hummed while getting up slowly, walking over to him with silent steps. you placed your hand on his shoulder, pushing him back on his chair. you seated yourself into his lap, hand slipping towards his crotch. you cut off the start of his protest with a deep kiss, sliding from his lap to in between his legs.

he already knows where you’re going when your kisses begin to drip down from his stomach to his hipbones. so, he leaned his face against his hand, reaching down to stroke your hair just to watch you take care of him.

he smiled, slowly and very softly pushing himself against your lips. he thinks he’s all ready to what’s coming. wrong. the second your mouth is filled with him, he yeets into another realm.

“damn….” he growls.

you swirled your tongue around him, cheeks hollowing out with a sweet sound as he left your mouth. you gazed up at him, and the sight of him nearly made you choke. his eyes hung in a half-lidded haze, his face redder than a thousand suns. his palm was against his mouth, no doubt keeping the moans from escaping him.

“you all right, mr. director?” you licked your lips with a self-satisfied smile. “should i stop?”

he scowled, slinging one of his legs around you. he couldn’t answer, because the threat of his voice failing was like a dark cloud over him. he pressed his leg against your back harder, urging you to continue.

you took him into your mouth again, pumping him teasingly. his hand was now covering his whole face. he lasted longer than either of you suspected, finally releasing himself with a loud moan that jerked him as if coming from the barrel of a gun.

“feeling flustered?” you wiped your mouth and crawled onto his lap, biting down a grin.

“is that what you were doing?” he chuckled. “you could say i was… thrown off.”

“i’ll take that!” you pumped your fist in victory as he shook his head at you.

SAEYOUNG

“y-yeah? something you need, precious 606?” he grinned at you, though nervousness was radiating off of him. he held his hands close to his chest, glancing down at yours that had trapped him between the doorway.

“i’ve been needing something for a while now,” you countered with a sharp, yet playful gaze. it pierced through his eyes, and you almost expected to see a stream of gold burst from his eyes.

“really? you know i’ll do anything… to…. w-where are you going?” he asked, trapped somewhere between nerves and lust. a strangled moan wrung out of him when he felt you hug him closer by grabbing his ass tightly. your face pushed against his crotch, and he bent over to hold onto your shoulders.

“hey, hey, hey… are you sure? here…? wouldn’t you like to be somewhere more comfortable? let’s just go-” his sentence dropped with his pants. he choked on his own words, fingers clutching your hair.

“show me, saeyoung,” your lips pushed the flushed skin beside his cock. “i want to touch you too, you know.”

“ngh….” he grabbed your wrist, guiding you to his base. he brought his knuckles over his mouth, leaning against the doorway with all sorts of lewd thoughts slinging across his mind like in an arcade game.

he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. he ducked his head to the side, feeling your warm mouth on his length. “that’s… oh my god…” he unconsciously thrusted against your mouth, the urgency of it choking you. 

he rushed to yank himself away, but your nails dug into his thighs to keep him in place. “dammit… i’m sorry,” he gritted, feeling his knees give up on him. he slammed against the door and slumped down.

you broke all of his limits, and he moaned with reckless abandon. his toes curled when he finally let out his last cry of pleasure. he pulled you against his chest, his hand on your head and his body still quivering.

“man… what’ve you done to me…” he chortled. “such unfairness shall be punished by god seven, you know?”

“even if you enjoyed that unfairness?”

“yeah… even so,” he laughed, taking your shoulders and falling on you like a dead weight. he chuckled at your ‘oompfh’ and slid his hands along your sides. “i couldn’t call myself a defender of justice if i didn’t.”

JAEHEE

she gasped so hard she had to swallow a cough. feeling you yank her legs over your shoulders sent all sorts of nightmarish 'getting caught’ visions through her mind. it was late, but the chances of say, jumin han, slamming into her office were enough to make her shudder in a very wrong way.

"mc… please don’t tell me you’re going to…?“

her sentence faded to oblivion when your tongue darted over her wetness. she moaned, throwing her head back with her hands that slammed against her mouth.

you held her down with your fingers dug to her thighs. she was soaking. you smiled against her and let your hands glide along her smooth legs.

her back arched and she moaned, hands gripping at her skirt that you’d shoved over her waist. her heels locked you between her legs as your tongue went deeper.

"s-stop, that’s enough,” she moaned.

your hands went under her ass and you lifted her. her back shifted off the desk and she had to grab the edge not to get swept up fully.you had to use most of your strength to hold her as the tidal wave of pleasure flowed through her. you left her slumped over her desk, pulling her skirt back down. “… are you angry?”

“angry…? i’ve never felt so ecstatic,” she pushed herself up to press her head against your chest. “but i must say… if someone comes in the next time you decide to do that, you’re telling jumin.”

“… noted,” you laughed nervously.

SAERAN

a scar of worry slashed across his face. he’d be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn’t dreamed of you going down on him from time to time. so although the dusk had settled, he found that he wasn’t tired at all. not when your mouth had wrapped around his cock.

“you… really don’t need to go this far for me,” he blushed. “just stop if you’re uncomfortable.”

“don’t worry,” you encouraged him. “you do the same, too.”

he nodded, gnawing at his lip. he was propped on his elbows on the bed, his head dangling back from the sensations you had thundering through his body. his toes curled when you hollowed your cheeks.

“mmh... my head feels so weird…” he moaned.

“do you want me to stop?” you asked. your fingers wrapped around his length, slowly kneading him. you felt him throb around your hand.

“no, just… keep doing that,” he groaned back.

he was shaken to the core by how unrestrained you were with him. a choking moan came out of his throat and he turned his head to muffle himself into the sheets. he seemed to forget himself for a second, calling out your name until he came with a groan bursting from his chest.

after the maelstrom within him had settled, he pulled you up against his chest, “you left me speechless…” he spoke against your hair.

the huge smile on your face sent happiness into his heart, and he laughed. “would you like me to try that, too?”

JIHYUN

when you pushed his legs apart, his brain short-circuited. he knew he could count on you to take care of the things he was too afraid to take on. because he still tended to hold back on the things he longed for the most.

“you don’t have to…” he spoke against the palm of his hand.

“just sit tight,” you encouraged him from between his legs. “i really want to. is that all right?”

he nodded slowly, most ashamed how painfully hard he was from just the sight of you close to his crotch. he leaned back on the arm of the couch he was sitting on, bending his knees to give him some steadiness.

he gasped when his dick disappeared into your wet mouth. his hand shook as he reached for your head, pushing your hair back. he forgot the ability to breathe, and you had to tap his leg for him to realize it.

“you’re gonna pass out if you do that,” you giggled. “are you uncomfortable?”

“no… not in the least,” he finally exhaled. “keep going, please…”

you knew that if he had the guts to say that, he must really be feeling otherworldly. forget paradise, the earth underneath him was quaking by the mere feel of you against his body. you glided your hands along his thighs, squeezing him softly.

he bit down a moan when you grabbed his wrist and lead it down for him to pump himself. he kneaded himself, his face flushed and heart threatening to shoot out of his throat.

you kissed the fingers that he kept on his length, and he suddenly cried out for you. he had surpassed all the limits he thought he had, finally letting go and coming with a shuddering moan. his back hit the couch and his legs were left dangling over the armrest.

“i love you so much…” he heaved, pushing back his sweaty hair. he turned to gaze at you with an unfamiliar look swirling in his eyes. “you should… come closer to me now,” he told you as he reached out his hand to poke at your thigh.

VANDERWOOD

he leaned back on the couch, having closed his eyes for the first time in what felt like ancient times. he felt sleep pulling him in like death itself, but was crushed back to reality by your weight slamming down on him.

“goddammit!!” he coughed. “what do you think you’re doing?”

“vandy… it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other-”

“we saw each other three days ago-”

“and i missed you so much-”

“you’re so dramatic sometimes i swear to-”

you shot upwards on him, shutting you both up with a long kiss he nearly drowned in. the fatigue kicked in and he melted under your warmth and familiarity.

his eyes kept shut as your mouth began to ghost down his jaw, his chest and stomach, all the way to the tender place just above his groin. was he dreaming? why does he suddenly feel so- oh. oh shit.

he jerked up and the sight nearly knocked him unconscious. your tongue was teasing him through his underwear. your gaze was intently on his growing strain, finally pulling down the last of his clothes. he sprung up and your fingers and mouth were on him without delay.

“hey, don’t… that’s not, i mean you don’t have to…” he cursed silently, holding himself down with whatever was left from his strength. “this can’t be comfortable to you…”

“shhh,” you shushed him, reaching with your hand to push him back down. his head hit the arm of the couch and he knew he had to suffer his defeat. or ride out his victory. he was a silent, trusting man when it came to being pleasured.

he came with a long, shuddering groan that was the final blow to his tired body. you pulled yourself up to leave him to sleep, but his hand caught your wrist and you fell against him. his arms went around you, a soft kiss landing on your forehead.

“love you…” came the sleepy scratch of his voice.

[rksecretsanta2019]

Merry Christmas to @jsominrk                          | from @jaeminrk

Minju,

Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoyed this classic Christmas tale with Somin and Jaemin. You said you liked Christmas stuff, so I obviously ran with it! I hope that we can plot or just chat together sometime in the future. This was not only fun to write, but getting to know what your muse is like was a bit of a rabbit hole for me. Most of all, I hope that you enjoy your holidays and that you spend time with your family, friends, or any other people you hold close to your heart. Enjoy your break, lovely!

Jingle Bell Rock!

AU - Canonverse (Jaemin and Somin are already buddies AU!)

—

“What do you mean you’ve never really experienced the holidays?”

Jaemin shoots out of his seat, as if he’s been struck by a jolt of electricity. With a straight face, Somin simply blinks at the show Jaemin is making out of seemingly nothing. An aggressive finger finds a way to her face. “We are going to do the most stereotypical holiday experience,” Jaemin swings his arms out as if he’s about to burst into a goofy musical number. “I’m talking corny Christmas movie! We need the food, the lights, the cold, and the events!” His boisterous outburst is causing other patrons at the little cafe they’re at to look on with anger. Swiftly and quietly, Somin slams the over-the-top boy back into his seat. She shushes him and slouches back in her chair in embarrassment. “Sounds dumb…” She flashes a smirk. “… But I guess you can count me in.” Jaemin lets out one final hooray before he shoots out of his seat and drags her out into the snowy street.

“Okay, so the first thing we need to do is get hot cocoa so we can carry it with us through this snow-filled city!” He confidently announces. When he turns to Somin for her thoughts, she raises an eyebrow. “We just left a cafe, Nana.” She states bluntly. With a nervous chuckle, Jaemin marches to the cafe across the street. “Yeah, but I thought everyone in there was going to murder me,” he admits. Without throwing on their coats, they quickly cross the street to get out of the cold. The two of them are relaxed as the warmth of the indoors surrounds them once again. Oozing with his usual greasy flirtatiousness, Jaemin flashes a smile at the barista. “Hey,” he says in a “cool” voice. “My friend,” he nods in Somin’s direction, “and I need your finest hot cocoa. You think you can do that for me?” The barista rolls her eyes and tells him that they only have one type of hot cocoa. Letting his face fall, he shrugs. “Whatever, so long as it has marshmallows, we’re okay.”

After getting their warm cups of hot cocoa with extra marshmallows, they put their coats on to once again face the freezing cold. “Okay, Somin, you’re graceful, right?” Jaemin shoots a grin in her direction, as he opens the door for her. What a strange question, she thinks. Somin is a dancer, so one could say that. “Yeah, I guess,” she says. Her voice wavers as the cold breeze bursts for a moment. “Good! I’m not, so at least one of us will look cool,” Jaemin laughs as he starts leading the way. They pass by all of the store fronts on the main boulevard. As they walk in silence, the lights glitter along storefronts and the shiny red tinsel adorns even the plain streetlights. Somin’s eyes excitedly scan over the decorations. The warmth of the cup of hot cocoa spreads from her fingertips to her face. A small, warm smile develops on her face, seemingly beyond her control. These small actions bring joy to people simply walking from place to place.

When the destination they seem to be heading towards is in sight, her thoughts immediately are interrupted. “An ice skating rink!” She excitedly gasps. Her pace picks up and soon she’s the one leading Jaemin. “I’m glad you’re excited,” he sighs out. “I’ll be honest. I fall on my butt too often to find this too fun.” Picking his energy back up, he pushes Somin to go faster. “But! This is a traditional holiday activity so we have to do it!” In a rush, they quickly get to the worker to rent some skates and gain entry to the rink. After slipping into their skates, Somin is up and ready to go. “Let’s go, Jaemin!” Jaemin, fumbling with his laces, groans. “I’m coming. I’m coming!” Nearly tumbling over as he gets up, Somin quickly grabs Jaemin’s arm. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. You really are bad at this.” She flashes him a cheeky smile. “I’ll help you as much as I can… for a bit.”

Guiding him to the ice, she steps on first and puts out her hand for him. “Okay, take my hand and I’ll help keep you balanced.” With a nervous face, Jaemin reluctantly puts a foot out to step on the ice. As he almost wipes out, Somin grips onto his hand as tight as she can to keep him from face planting. “Come on, Nana!” She groans as she helps him to an upright position. With a whine, Jaemin asks if he can just sit and watch. “No way! You’ll ruin my holiday experience, man,” she teases. “Now, let’s take little glides.” She helps him start to take his first glides, before he’s back to almost falling flat. Breaking his hand away from hers, he clumsily sails to the wall of the rink. “Go on without me, Somin!” He dramatically cries. “Go skate your heart out!” Raising an eyebrow, Somin can’t help but ask, “Are you sure?” With a somber nod, Jaemin reassures her that it’s for the best. “If you say so,” Somin gives in.

Skating seems to come naturally to her. The natural balance that one needs isn’t something Somin lacks. At first she skates a couple of laps, but she soon finds it boring. She can do more than just skate in circles! Feeling an overwhelming feeling of energy and excitement, Somin tries her best to dance on the ice. While she’s a trained hip-hop professional, the beauty of dance is the same principles: time, space, energy, and shape. Applying these principles, Somin performs a modern dance. Her arms flowing and sometimes matching her glides, she skates past the sea of people. When she skates past Jaemin, he cheers for her as loud as he can. She can’t help but laugh at him still clinging to the wall, while she’s basically performing on ice. As she starts to feel worn out, she returns back to him. “Wow! That was amazing! How do you do that!” Jaemin cries out. She just laughs and guides him back to the exit. Collapsing on to his knees, he praises the floor and strips his skates off in record time. “Okay! Let’s head to our final destination.”

As they walk down another crowded street, they endlessly talk about Somin’s amazing dancing skills, both on and off the ice. “Maybe you should try becoming an ice skater,” Jaemin mentions. “You could easily do it!” Somin appreciates her friend’s enthusiasm but laughs him off. “I think your brain is still jumbled up from fear, silly.” All Jaemin can do is roll his eyes at her. His eyes stop on a shop. “Hold on.” He stops Somin with his hand. In a dead stop, she watches him run into an unknown shop. As quickly as he ran in, he’s running out with a bag of goodies. Pulling out a sugar cookie shaped like a reindeer, he hands it to Somin. “I got us some cookies to treat us on our walk to the main event!” She happily takes the cookie and takes a bite of the classic sugar cookie. The flavor isn’t anything new but it’s nevertheless delicious. Still chewing, Somin asks, “What is this main event anyway?” With a cheeky grin, Jaemin says, “You’ll see.”

“Here, we are!” Jaemin announces. Somin looks around the crowded plaza. There are people everywhere; families, friends, and couples standing around. Towards the center, there’s a giant Christmas tree in the center of this plaza but there aren’t any lights lit up. They’re so far away from the giant tree that she can’t tell if there are even lights on it. A chorus sings Christmas carols acapella, which makes the bleak plaza seem a bit more upbeat. “Uh, are you sure this is the right place?” Somin asks her grinning friend. “Yes, yes, yes! It should be in a couple minutes, I think–” Jaemin gets quickly cut off by the sound of loud jingle bells. The two spin around to see a sleigh being pulled through the crowd by real reindeer. There’s a man dressed like Santa waving at the crowd. Like a kid, Jaemin jumps up and down. “It’s Santa, Somin!” He excitedly waves to the fake Santa. Somin laughs and waves at “Santa”, as Jaemin’s outburst somehow caught the old man’s eye.

After Santa moves through the crowd, he stands up on a stage by the Christmas tree. “Ho, ho, ho!” His low voice echoes in the microphone. “Welcome, boys and girls!” Somin flashes her eyes to Jaemin. His eyes are twinkling and he’s looking onward like he believes it’s the real Santa. While she doesn’t really understand, she still laughs and goes back to looking at the Santa. “Thank you all for coming out to this wonderful event. I know you all must be on the nice list, since you’re all here!” The Santa laughs. “I think I know one thing that you all want that isn’t necessarily on your wish list. So, without further ado,” he pauses before flamboyantly pulling a lever. “Merry Christmas!” As if his wishes willed it so, the lights on the Christmas tree begin lighting up. The ones at the bottom fade in. The light dazzlingly dances to the top of the tree. The colorful, delicate ornaments adorning the enormous tree come into view as the multi-colored lights illuminate them. As the lights get brighter, finally the star on top is shot on. A beacon of light, the star glitters and flashes at the crowd.

A light delicate snow starts to fall on them. Somin’s eyes look like they’re looking at the Milky Way, with all of the lights twinkling and dancing. She had never seen a tree so beautiful, so bright, and somehow so warm. Looking at the lights shine and the ornaments gleam, Somin is amazed. She can’t blink, with fear that she’ll miss a new ornament she didn’t see before. Nevertheless, with her eyes closed and smiling to herself, she reflects. These moments make her cherish what she has and makes her excited for what’s to come. The year had been one of trials and tribulations, but there had also been so many good things. Heck, she got engaged this year! Who knows what the next year will bring? She hopes that she can have another amazing holiday time with her friends and family, like she got to today. Softly, Somin pokes Jaemin’s arm for his attention. With a bewildered look, he looks at her. “Thank you, Jaemin. Thank you for showing me this,” she delicately whispers. With a big grin, Jaemin teasingly tousles her hair. “So you do like the stereotypical holiday experience, Somin?”

[flawsomesims]

Pen Pal Project 💻 {📤 To: KC #2}

| 📑 Table of Contents/Information | 🦙 Main Blog |

📥 Incoming >> Letter from Chance Keener

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Mrs. Jessica Fletcher, who makes an appearance in this chapter, was taken from the gallery and made by maybethemoon1. I hope this isn’t too long? >~< I had a small idea for what I wanted for this chapter and it didn’t seem long in my head, but then I got the shots and was like, ‘oh, that’s a lot’ lol

Previous Letter

◤◢◣◥◤ ◢◣◆◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

I groaned in frustration, feeling my head starting to hurt as I stared at the screen of my laptop. I had been sitting there for nearly two hours and still only had about a paragraph written out. Why is writing so hard? But it can also be so much fun. Writing makes me happy and I know this is the path I chose. I don’t regret it, but it can get really frustrating at times!

I decided to take a break and headed out into the living room where my mom was sitting at the dining table, working on her schoolwork for college. I plopped down beside her, sighing dramatically.

She raised a brow, slapping the book closed. “What is it?”

“Writer’s block…”

“Didn’t you just have that?”

“Yeah…”

“Hm, well, just be positive and it’ll work out!”

I sighed heavily, letting my upper body fall onto the wooden table. “It’s not that simple…”

She hummed again before standing up, the chair’s legs sliding across the floor as she did so. “Alright, let’s go out to The Blue Velvet!”

“A nightclub?” My brow furrowed. “Ew,”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“You know I’m a loner. I don’t do well with other sims,”

“Nonsense! You just gotta believe in yourself!” And with no room to argue, she grabbed my arm and tugged me up out of my chair and out of the house. The nightclub in question was on the other side of town, maybe a ten-minute car ride from our house.

“Go on inside, I’ll be right there, hunnie.”

I squinted at her for a few seconds before doing as she asked. I didn’t miss how she pulled out her phone and was talking in a hushed whisper.

Thankfully, since it’s the middle of the week and only noon, there weren’t too many people in the nightclub. Even so, I settled down at a table as close to the wall as I could find and tried to not may eye contact with anyone. Eye contact leads to conversation and I didn’t want that.

Two guys were dancing to the music pumping out of the speakers. Their moves were comical but I knew I had no right to criticize since I dance like a fish out of water. They looked like they were enjoying themselves and not at all embarrassed which I could definitely admire.

The song changed and my head snapped toward the speaker. It was my favorite song! The kind of song that instantly hyped you up every time you hear it, no matter your current mood. With the lyrics sliding through my mind and the bass pumping through my body, I did something I never thought I would ever do.

I started dancing in public.

I felt like an absolute fool and I probably looked like one, too, but the lack of guests and the beat of my favorite song took away my ability to care for the moment. The red-headed man turned his attention to the entrance when the doors swung open, his eyes growing wide as they followed someone.

I didn’t want to turn around in case it was a group of people or worse, a really cute guy.

The man rushed past me and shrieked ecstatically.

My mom, but… who in the world is she sitting with? That didn’t look like Lindy, her best friend. Besides, she should be at work right now.

Mom looked up and smiled brightly, waving me over. “Here she is! Hunnie, I want you to meet someone.”

Great, I thought, holding back a scowl. I hate meeting people, but I slowly inched closer until I could see the woman’s face. Several emotions flooded me at once.

Disbelief. Shock. Confusion. Excitement. Happiness.

I don’t know which was stronger. Sitting at the table beside my mom was my hero, my role model – famous author, Mrs. Jessica Fletcher!

“Oh… oh my grim,” I swallowed hard, trying to collect my racing thoughts. “Can I have your autograph?!”

“Of course!” The older woman smiled kindly as she stood, pulling a photo from her purse that she kept for such occasions. She signed it in her neat little scrawl before handing it back to me.

“A-And a picture?!” I stuttered. “If it’s not too much trouble!”

Mrs. Fletcher chuckled and nodded, leaning in as I took out my phone.

The sheer elation I felt from this encounter had me soaring over the moon and beyond. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as happy as I had at that moment.

“Now, come have some tea with us.” Mrs. Fletcher smiled, re-taking her seat beside my mom.

I could only nod, falling into the seat as I shifted between staring at her like a star-struck teenager and focusing on my hands so I didn’t look crazy.

We spent an hour just talking. Well, they talked and I mostly listened, but it was still a great time. Unfortunately, Mrs. Fletcher had to leave and the two of us saw her out. After stepping through the door, I watched the man that was just entering as we left. His head followed her, eyes wide as a saucer.

And then he started jumping up and down, making strangled noises like a baby trying to string sounds into words.

And then he fainted, his face smacking the floor.

The two women in front of me didn’t seem to notice, so I shrugged and followed them. After saying goodbye, I returned home, feeling more inspired than I had in a very long time. I went straight to my room, hanging the picture of Mrs. Fletcher above my desk before settling down.

Both animals seemed to sense my heightened mood and came into the room.

As I opened up wordpad, my fingers glided across the keyboard. After every paragraph, my eyes would shoot up to the picture as if to reassure myself that yes it really did happen. And then I would be filled with a renewed vigor I didn’t think possible.

After a while, the two pets got bored of just watching and listening to me type and cheer over a photograph, so they decided to keep each other entertained. It’s safe to say that Mist won the sparring match between them, as she so often does.

Hours passed.

My stomach growled at me. My brain begged for sleep.

But I kept writing and writing until, finally, I completed the short story I had set out to write.

“Mom!” I screamed as I held the printed manuscript in my hands, rushing out of my room.

She sprinted into the living room, her eyes frantic. “What?! What’s wrong?!”

“I finished my first book!” I cried happily, only to cry in pain a moment later when she smacked my arm.

“Don’t do that! I thought something was wrong,” She shook her head before smiling, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“I’m proud, too.” I sniffled, rubbing at my eyes behind my glasses. “But finishing a book is only half the battle. What if no one reads it? What if critics tear it apart? Oh god, what if Mrs. Fletcher hates it?!”

Mom smacked my arm again. “Stop being so negative! It’ll do fine and everyone will love it. Now, hurry up and send it off so we can get rich!”

I smiled, looking at the manuscript sitting on the counter. My very first book… how exciting!!

Stepping outside, I pulled the lid to the mailbox open and was about to stuff the manuscript inside when a letter caught my eye. Ah, my pen pal! This day just keeps getting better for me!

I switched them out and turned to head inside, something catching my eye. I scowled as Biscuit thrust the trashcan on its side, spilling the contents across the yard. “Will you stop being so troublesome?”

She only tilted her head at me and I sighed, heading inside and telling mom to go deal with her dog before sitting at the table and reading the letter. With a smile, I started to write my reply.

┌───────────── -ˋˏ ∵✉∴ ˎˊ- ─────────────┐

Dear Chance,

Don’t worry about the time it takes to write back, I know you’re quite busy. I’ll still be here, so no worries! The pictures you sent of Loma are adorable. It’s sad when pets grow older, they’re so adorable as babies, but it’s also a happy time because they are older and wiser and, hopefully, grow into less of a troublemaker haha

That’s a good quality to have. I tend to worry too much about what other people think. You see, I’ve just finished my first book ever! It’s just a collection of short stories, but I’m quite proud. My first thoughts were, ‘what if no one like them?’ even though I, myself, am pretty happy with the result. Musicals, you say? I’ve never seen one before, but I always hear good things about them. I’d love to see one of his stories come to life on stage one day.

My mom says thank you! She’s always wanted to be in the medical field, but she was only recently able to go back to school for it. She’s working hard, so I want to do the same with my writing.

Snowglobes are so beautiful! I got a small one for Winterfest one year, but Mist seems to love them even more than me. It didn’t last long, and we’re still finding those little glitter pieces around the house. May I see your collection? I’ll add a picture of my voidcritters, even though I only have four at the moment. I finally got my favorite one, so I’ll send you a picture of his info card, as well.

Wow, that’s incredible! It’s a shame that their mother was unable to keep them, but I just know they will have a wonderful life with your family. I have a sixth sense about people, you know? And I can tell that you’re both good sims. Twins… I can’t imagine having two babies at once, it must be so tiring!

I wasn’t sure where to fit this in, so I’ll just add it at the end here. The reason I was suddenly so inspired is because I met my idol today. Her name is Jessica Fletcher, a famous author! Maybe Kristopher knows her? She’s just as kind in person as she is on TV. I keep wondering if I’m going to wake up and find it was just a dream. I got her autograph and a picture with her, can you believe it? That’s all I have to report for now~

Until next time,

* Jennifer Plevins

└───────────── -ˋˏ ∵✉∴ ˎˊ- ─────────────┘

Satisfied with the letter, I attached the pictures I had promised before setting the letter inside the mailbox beside my manuscript.

◤◢◣◥◤ ◢◣◆◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Next Letter

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Chapter 2: The Prince, The Prophecy, And A Few Sparks, Too

“Cyrus!”

The young god’s name echoed throughout the palace. Cyrus sighed and flew to the throne room. Air travel had taken some work, but eventually, he had gotten the hang of it. It was one of his favorite things about working for Apollo. Buffy, being a Hunter, only flew by pegasus or one of her birds of prey, and Andi only used air travel when she was going between the Underworld and Olympus with Persephone.

The minor god arrived in the throne room. There were puncture marks everywhere due to the major god’s hobby of shooting several bows simultaneously when he was bored. Cyrus was used to seeing Apollo draped over his throne in a very dramatic fashion, complaining about having nothing to do in song, but today, the son of Zeus was nearly as bright as the star that he drove across the sky every day.

That’s unusual, Cyrus thought. He’s only this happy when…

Oh no.

“There you are!”, Apollo cried when he saw Cyrus. “We”

Don’t say it.

“have”

Please, don’t say it.

“a prophecy!”, the sun god said gleefully.

Cyrus stifled a groan. Prophecies were the absolute worst. They were always confusing and cryptic. And they were always, always dangerous. They were even more dangerous when humans tried to figure them out. And they always tried to figure it out.

“Come, come!”, Apollo said, choosing to ignore his assistant’s obvious deflation at his news. “There.”

Apollo pointed down through the clouds that shielded the home of the gods from earth. Where the god pointed, the clouds rolled away to show a castle in another of Greece’s many countries. Wind swept around Cyrus and Apollo, carrying them down to the earth.

They stood in a courtyard filled with merchant stalls and vendors. Peasants and nobility alike walked around, observing the wares. On the far side of the courtyard, two wooden thrones stood on a stage. They were obviously temporary because they had nearly no ornamentation. On them sat a middle-aged man with smile lines around his eyes. He looked kind, for a king. On his right sat a beautiful lady with flowing blonde hair. She looked strict, but not cruel. Someone who liked order. Cyrus could respect that.

Standing slightly behind the throne was a girl who greatly resembled the lady. Her daughter, the princess. But not only that, Cyrus realized. He could feel the power of Delphi within her. She was an oracle.

In front of the stage, men in armor dueled with a variety of weapons: swords, lances, maces, whips. It looked like a melee tournament. One fighter was quickly outperforming most of the other men. Soon it was just him and another fighter, one who seemed just as skilled.

Almost, at least.

It took only a few well-placed strikes before the other fighter quickly yielded. The champion pulled off his helmet, revealing a grinning face, similar to that of the king’s. The prince, Cyrus understood quickly.

As the prince turned to face his father, Apollo glided over to the stage. Cyrus followed behind, confident that no mortal could see him. Apollo walked up to the girl on the stage and stood beside her. As the prince was accepting his prize, the princess turned to glance at the god.

The king, having awarded his son the win, had stood up to address his people, but he was interrupted by the collapse of his daughter. Guards rushed to catch her, but Cyrus reached her first, effectively losing his glamour. He cringed, knowing hundreds of eyes were on him.

He pulled a stool from...somewhere and then sat the princess down. As soon as Cyrus released her, the girl sat up and green smoke began to flow from around her. A voice older than time poured from her lips. It said:

The God of Death has been taken by ice So spirits get to roll the dice Find him and return him safe Or the ghosts of enemies may take his place

Two of royal blood, one sent to guard them One god of light, one of bow, one of garden May this mission plant the seed Or three be lost to eternity

With the last word, the oracle once again collapsed and was rushed into the castle by the guards, Apollo close behind them. The king dismissed the people for the day and he, his wife, and the prince rushed inside. Somehow, Cyrus was allowed in unhindered, even without his glamour. Cyrus was already tired. According to the prophecy, he had to travel with a bunch of people to get Thanatos, the god of death, back from ice. He wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure that ice was referring to Boreas, god of north wind. He didn’t have a clue about what the seed was, and that was to be expected. But the most confusing part was that the prophecy had not one, not two, but three different gods. Quests are supposed to be for mortals, not beings like himself.

Cyrus was pulled out of his thoughts when he realized he wasn’t alone. The blonde prince stood before him, his green eyes questioning Cyrus’s presence in his castle. Cyrus knew he didn’t exactly look like a god, but he hadn’t learned how to change his appearance yet. Besides, he had just popped out of thin air!

“Who are you?”, the prince asked. He looked about twenty, a little older than Cyrus was when he was turned into a god. His voice wasn’t mean, just curious.

“Um..hi. I’m Cyrus, I work for Apollo. Apollo told me that the oracle was about to announce a prophecy and told me to oversee it”, Cyrus answered, hurriedly, trying to come up with an explanation.

The prince looked doubtful. “You work for Apollo?”

Cyrus didn’t try to hide his eye-roll. He knew this would happen. He looked around the room. Thankfully, it didn’t have any windows, so it was entirely lit with torches. That would make the trick more believable.

Finally, he turned to the prince. Cyrus held his hand palm up and focused on drawing the fire - and the light that came with it - to his hand. One-by-one, the flames flew to Cyrus’s hand. The grinned proudly and looked up to see what the prince thought.

The man was looking at the fire in Cyrus’s hand, astonished. Cyrus was about to say something smug and cool when the prince looked up.

If Cyrus wasn’t immortal, he would’ve sworn his heart had stopped.

The light shrouded the prince’s face, turning his eyes to green flame and his hair into a burning halo. The prince was glowing. He looked like Apollo when he rode his sun chariot, almost god-like.

Cyrus looked down quickly, hoping to hide his growing blush. He shook his hand slightly and the flames returned to their homes. When he looked up again, the prince was smiling.

“I guess you're our god of light then, huh?”, he said with a laugh. “TJ.”

Cyrus smiled and shook the hand the prince-TJ-had offered him. This prophecy might not be so bad.

[brittysaucefanfic]

Acting is Easy, Loving is Harder

Summary: 

A new live action sci-fi/ fantasy show has been cast, Voltron. 

Included in the cast is the famous actresses Allura and Pidge, the famous actors Takashi ‘Shiro’ Shirogane and Keith Kogane, the famous chef Hunk Garrett, and the famous music artist Lance McClain. Throwing these five A-list celebrities onto one show can only come to one of three things. Beautiful Chaos, Painful Chaos, or Both. 

Throw in a romance, and a bad first meeting for some(two), and now you just spell out trouble.

Part 1 

(Next)(AU)(AO3)

VOLTRON CHAT ROOM

anon1: Did you guys hear about the cast for Voltron!? 

anon2: Uh duh!!! Allura, my queen, is in THE HOUSE BABY!

anon3: What about that mysterious guy, Keith? He’s so hot!

anon1: Nah, Lance is where the money is at! 

anon4: Do you think they’ll really show LGBT rep??? 

anon2: God I hope so! Coran hasn’t let us down yet!

anon3: Not to mention half the cast is somewhere on the LGBTQ+ spectrum.

anon1: Like our favorite soldier Shiro! I can’t wait to see the show! 

anon4: Gah can you imagine!??? Allura, Pidge and Lance in one show!!!!!?????? The sheer feminine power in one place, I’m

anon2: You know you put Lance in that group too right?

anon4: Tell me you can’t take one look at McClain and NOT see absolute female power?

anon2: You right tho

~~~~

INTERVIEW EXCERPT

Interviewer: Voltron has taken over social media, and the cast has only just been announced! I’m here today with one of said cast members. Welcome Lance!

Lance: Thanks, glad to be here. 

Interviewer: Is there anything you can reveal to us about the show?

Lance: *chuckles* Sorry darling, my lips are sealed on that front. 

Interviewer: Oh surely there must be something you can share? How about one of the most posed questions in the media? Will there truly be LGBT representation?

Lance: I can’t say much, but as far as we know for the time being, there will be a side romance for sure.

Interviewer: How about your costars? How do you feel about working with so many powerful stars?

Lance: I’m excited, I think we all are. Hunk and I know each other already, and I practically worship Shiro and Allura. I haven’t had the chance to meet Pidge or Keith, and I met Coran once, at auditions, but I have a good feeling about this show.

~~~~

Lance is in his element, soaking up the love of his fans.

Ever since the cast reveal, his popularity had skyrocketed. It's now the last show of his world tour, and then he's off to the set to start filming. Technically, the filming started two weeks ago, but he worked things out with Coran, his cast director. The others are only shooting scenes Lance isn't in, or are unimportant.

Lance smiles to the mirror.

He's really made it. No more will he be struggling to get by on his music doing covers and party performances. He's hit the big time, even getting to do his own world tour! And at every concert, his crowds just keep getting bigger and bigger.

He just has to do one last show.

Lance is pumped, ready to make this the best concert ever. He's going all in on this one, and he owes all of his help to his manager, Plaxum. Weird name, yes, but she's good at what she does. Lance checks his outfit one last time as he tries to settle his nerves. 

His eyes are done with a dramatic eyeliner, and he’s dressed in a fancy metallic suit jacket, blue with silver stars sparkling across the fabric. His shirt is a simple black button up, with the top three buttons open and loose. His pants are just a simple pair of black skinny jeans, the stretchy kind.

Lance dances out his nerves, stretching his body and getting his heart pumping. He’ll be doing a lot of dancing and moving tonight, because he wanted this show to be perfect. Don’t want to pull a muscle. 

There’s a knock at the door, and with a rush of chaos, he’s on the platform that’ll raise him to the stage. They give him a pair of earplugs and a wireless microphone, then Plaxum squeezes between the stage hands to pat him on the back and wish him luck. He barely hears it over the roar of the crowd, and they aren’t even screaming yet. 

With one last thumbs up, the above lights shut off. 

Lance stands into his beginning pose, his back to the crowd and head up. His shoulders roll back naturally and his feet spread apart to stabilize him. The lights above ease back on as his band starts with his first song, something upbeat and slightly repetitive. 

The roar of the crowd turns into a deafening scream and Lance eases in his second earpiece with a smile. 

The first song goes off without a hitch, and his adrenaline is pumping. His lips ache from how much he’s smiling as he takes a moment to address the crowd before song number two. It’s a full set for him, eighteen songs with two encores planned. His voice is sure to be wrecked on his way to the Voltron set. 

He does four songs in a row after song two, and with each one the crowd screams louder at him.

He pauses to talk some and get his breath back. And get some water, because the stage is burning up from all the lights. He catches sight of himself on one of the big screens and he almost winces at his sweaty face. His eyeliner is still on point though, thank God. 

“Thank you guys! Wow! There’s so many people here, it’s crazy!” Lance says, giving a little squeal for the crowd, who are screaming right back at him. He runs a hand through his hair, smiling as he waves at the fans. He reads out a few posters, and laughs as he sees one that calls him ‘daddy’, his face red. When his breath is back to normal, he starts singing once more. 

It’s crazy.

The crowd is huge, bigger than he’s ever seen at his own concerts. He does a slow song and the darkness beyond the stage lights up like the night sky. It’s breathtaking really, exhilarating. Who knew he would be here, with such a big turn out? Who knew those grueling years trying hard just find a gig at a sleazy bar would bring him here? Who knew he would be so famous? He stops to talk again after song eleven.

“You guys have been wonderful! This next song, it hits home for me, so forgive me if my voice breaks. When it came out, it helped me through my bisexual crises-” He’s cut off by another roaring scream and he laughs. “Hell yeah! Power to the gays! Anyways, it helped me in my rough times, so I hope it helps you too. I know it’s hard to accept yourself sometimes, but I’m here for you all.” And then he starts singing This is Me from The Greatest Showman. 

He throws everything into it. 

Lance starts out the song soft, soulful, his eyes closed as the words seem to rip themselves from his very core, standing still for the first time since he started the concert. Then on the first chorus he starts gliding slowly forward to the end of the stage. When the second verse starts, he freezes again, one hand gripping his shirt tight. 

His backup dancers, who have all been standing in various crouched poses, like they’re in critical pain, stand up and starts doing the exact dance from the show. Lance backs up as the chorus starts again and joins them, dancing with harsh enthusiasm. He and the dancers do the entire routine, and then when the beat drops after ‘I make no apologies’ he launches himself off the stage in a frontflip. 

Plaxum hated that part in rehearsals. 

He starts dancing the routine through the crowd, who are all screaming in his face and reaching out to touch him. He kisses the hand of a pretty girl before starting in on the bridge.

He makes it back to the stage when the music stops, hopping up with the help of a backup dancer. The rest are all frozen, reaching for the ground in a high crouch. Lance walks through them as he sings the slow part, his voice cracking on ‘this is brave’. When the first beat drops his dancers hit their knees, and when the music starts they all stand and throw their arms out like they’re going to embrace someone, Lance whipping around to match them. 

They finish the song with a proverbial bang as the lights go out. 

He does two more of his own songs, then does an onstage costume change while the lights are out. He changes into a sparkly blue tank top, with knee high leather boots and a fedora. It’s a small relief on his skin to change. 

When the lights go up again, he lets the crowd do their screaming. Then jumps into a cover of Shakira’s She-Wolf, changing all the female pronouns to male, and making the cover extremely gay. The fans went wild when he showed the world he had Shakira’s hips. 

On his last song, before the encores, he trips. 

Lance rolls with it, literally, using the forward momentum to go into a roll and then pops back up on his feet. All without missing a single beat or lyric. After the song he talks to the fans.

“Did anyone see me trip? No? Good let’s keep it that way, because it didn’t happen. Whatsoever.” Lance says and the entire crowd erupts into a roar of laughter. Lance smiles as he thanks the fans for coming to see him. When the lights go out, he does another quick on stage costume change. He forgoes a shirt all together. 

He also kicks off his shoes, and just does his last two songs barefoot and shirtless. 

In other words, his concert was amazing. Plus, he’s trending on twitter, with a very nice picture of him mid song of an encore. He’s barely clothed, in nothing but a pair of tight skinny jeans, and a fedora. Right before he walks off stage he thanks the fans one last time and then tells them to look out for him in a new show called Voltron.

******

(Next)(AU)(AO3)