#book release tour sign up

[sykostyles]

subject to change 1.0

wc: 6.4k summary: in which Y/N is a fairly inexperienced romance author, and Harry is a bookstore owner who happens to be a big fan. What happens when he offers her one night to experience some of the things she’s written about? part two

a/n: hi there! can you tell I'm ovulating? that is the only explanation I have for this one. big shouts to my mootite patootie @celestie0 for being a real girls girl and being my beta reader and personal hype woman! she read the whole thing and she doesn't even like Harry like that! Ellie is a real one. (check out her story kickoff rn!🔪)

cw: bdsm dynamics, impact play, breath play, spit play, cum play, anal, anal creampie, p in v, facefucking, mild shibari, bondage, use of sir, degradation, edging, spanking, choking, toy usage (vibrator, butt plug), overstimulation, there’s a lot okay reader be warned.

“Hey, Jenny!” Your voice echoed through the phone. Your publicist had a habit of calling when you were trying to get your daily rough drafting and editing done. Currently you’re staring at a manuscript of the follow up to your latest release, still unsure what to name it. 

“Y/N, I’m glad I caught you! I had something come up for you to start the press tour for your newest release!” Jenny, your publicist excitedly squeals through the phone. Her tone makes you peel the phone away from your ear for a split second. You glance over to your right to look at the book in question. “Little Freak” was your latest release. Another smutty romance novel full of things you’d never actually experienced; only dreamed about. You were experienced enough, but always craved more. But your books were a hit and people were snatching them up left and right.

“A press tour? I’ve never done anything like that.” You respond, balancing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, tapping away at your computer 

“I know, but it’s a signing! At this local shop downtown.” She explains, “The owner says they’d love to host in exchange for the publicity.”

“A signing?” you question. Never did you think a signing would be an event you’d have. ”People want to meet me?” 

“Oh yeah, girl. Loads of people.” She chuckles. “Do you know how many people have sent you fan mail saying you gave them a sexual awakening with your books? So many people want to meet you.” Her response makes you physically laugh. 

“Wow, I'm just writing about fantasies I have.” you chuckle, “But I’m so glad people are finding themselves.” 

“But about this signing!” She continues. “It’s booked for next weekend, but I’ll be going this weekend to meet with the owner and talk about the setup. You can be there if you want or you can just leave that to me.” She continues rambling about anything and everything pertaining to the signing. Ending the call she gives you the address and you tell her you’d meet her there on saturday. 

You loathed taking public transportation, and requesting a car for a short trip seemed pointless to you. So hoofing it, it was. Weaving your way through the city sidewalk, you’d located the shop rather easily. You were shocked you’d never heard of this place before. You’d been through here many times.

“Y/N, over here!” You hear Jenny yell from the corner of the store. It was really nice. Big floor to ceiling windows. Full mahogany bookshelves lining the walls and aisles. A giant seating area with plush chairs, couches and bean bags. A coffee and tea bar near the windows. String lights hang from the exposed rafters. The aroma of the store wafting scents of natural wood, patchouli and vanilla. There’s plants everywhere. The cash register tucked in the corner with a “Owners Picks” section right in front. Harry’s House in big yellow bubble letters on the wall. 

Your eyes just scan everywhere before they fall on Jenny, standing next to a man. A man with emerald eyes, dark chestnut curls, glasses pushed atop his head, and a smile plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe this place has been hiding here,” you state, walking towards her and the man. “Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’re holding your hand out to him. He eyes you before slipping his hand in yours and giving you a delicate shake. Your skin heats up at his touch.

“M’ Harry. S’nice to meet you,” he claims, “I haven’t opened yet. Your signing will be my grand opening.” He states, letting your hand go. What was that?

“That explains why I’ve never seen it before. It’s beautiful in here,” you gesture all around. “It’s so cozy.” Why do you want him to touch you again?

“That was the vision when I was planning everything. When I heard your team was looking for a place to host a signing, I knew it would be perfect for a grand opening as well.” Keep talking.

“You’ve heard of me?” you ask in disbelief with your eyebrow raised. He’s looking at you as if he’s ready to eat you alive. Please do.

“I’m quite a big fan, actually.” he chuckles, “I’ve read all of your releases so far. But, we can discuss that after. Jenny, do show us what your plan is.” He says, leading you both over to the seating area.

After your sit down meeting with Harry and Jenny, Jenny says she’s heading back to the office to send out the email to your team with the plan. Harry asked you if you’d stay to continue your conversation from earlier and go over more specifics, to which you happily obliged although you felt a tinge of nervousness once you were left alone with him.

You eye him as he prepares some tea for the both of you, getting a really good look this time. Glancing at the furrow in his eyebrows as he focuses on the task at hand. The fabric of his white dress shirt pulled taught across his shoulders as he moves around the space; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The skin you can see is littered with black ink. The way the veins in his arms start to give you unholy thoughts about how they’d feel wrapped around your neck– 

“You’ll have to forgive my shortness earlier, I’m not used to men telling me they’re a fan of my work,” you chuckle, trying to steer your thoughts in a different direction.

“Ah, not to worry.​​​ It takes more than that to offend me,” he says, walking back to the couch you’re settled on; tea cups in hand. “But, indeed I am a huge fan,” he hands you one of the cups as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch. “I believe the first book of yours I read was Lingering Smoke,” he ponders for a moment, “Or no, it actually was Whipped & Chained,” his recall of your titles make you squirm.

“T-those are my two most popular titles,” you start to speak, praying he didn’t notice the way he made you stutter. He did. You clear your throat before continuing, “but my latest release is wiping the floor with both of those at this rate,” you say, regaining your composure. He offers you a smile. A salacious smile.

“I’m not surprised,” he says, eyeing the pink tinge on your cheeks, “I have read them all though,” he says, shifting his seating position on the couch to now fully face you, “they often give me,” his gaze boring into yours, “ideas,” he’s lifting his tea cup to his lips. You swear you feel a chill down your spine.

“Ideas?” you question, your eyes searching his. Are they darker?

“Ideas.” He affirms. “You should know though. You write about them.” He chuckles.

“I mean, I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, “I’m just writing fantasies I have,” you laugh, but he doesn’t.

“Fantasies? You mean you’ve never done those things? Felt those things?” He asks in disbelief.

You shake your head with a light laugh. “I seriously find that so hard to believe.”

“Please, my college boyfriend could never,” you chuckle, setting your tea cup on the coffee table. “I just drum up some ideas–as you so call them–and put it into a story. Nothing special.” He stares at you in disbelief again. 

“I jus–wow. I honestly expected you to be super well versed in those aspects. Pardon my assumption,” he says, holding his hands up.

“I mean, I guess it’s a pretty fair assumption, so no offense taken. Apparently I’ve given people sexual awakenings according to Jenny,” you laugh making him laugh this time. 

The awkward tension seems to dissipate with the shared laughter, but a different tension seems to linger. He seems so stone-like; like he only has one goal; and that goal is you. Truth be told, you’d happily oblige.

“Would you like to?” He asks, repositioning himself on the couch again, slightly closer to you.

“Like to?” you’re feigning ignorance. You know what he wants, but you're playing dumb.

“Experience those things.” He leans his arm over the back of the couch, taking in the obvious look of desire in your eyes.

“I mean, sure. Who wouldn’t?” You snort, looking over to him but he’s just staring at you. “Oh, you mean like, with you?” you ask slowly, still playing dumb.

He smiles that smile again, “Sure, why not?” He asks. “I’m game if you are.”

“Harry. Do you hear how crazy that sounds? We’ve known each other for half an hour.”

“So? We don’t have to see each other after. I don’t really do ‘feelings’ anyways.” he’s gesturing air quotes around feelings, his tone rather repulsed sounding. “This could be a one time thing. You get to experience some of the things you’ve written about, and I get my rocks off. A win/win situation if you ask me.” He says, gathering the tea cups and sauntering back over to the coffee station. 

“You sound so romantic, Harry,” you chuckle. Maybe this wouldn’t be a terrible idea. The last hookup you had was less than thrilling. And here you have a very attractive man offering exactly what you’ve been looking for. Regardless if it’s for one night, you’re willing to try.

“Interested?” He asks, leaning against the counter behind him.

“Sure. Why not,” You respond, mimicking his words back to him.

You make a mutual agreement to meet up and converse every day over the next week to discuss specifics, what each other's limits are—Harry all but told you he had none—and to remind you that this was all about you and what you wanted to experience. He gave you homework of coming up with what exactly you wanted. Your mind races as you think about what you’d want to experience first. There are so many options! 

He adored the look of mixed emotions on your face; the excitement, the apprehension. The enthusiasm in your voice but also the way you shied away when he asked you to list what you wanted, and how you wanted it. The way you sit on the couch in his bookstore with your legs crossed as you look down at the notebook in your lap. Ever the author; making a rough draft of these taboo acts you want this near stranger to do to you. Harry may not make it out of this alive if you keep looking at him with those eyes.

After your signing is when he’d bring your fantasies to life.

The spare key to his apartment was burning a hole in your hand as you made your way down the hall. You stood in front of the door a moment, contemplating one last time if this was what you wanted. He reminded you before you left the bookstore that there was no pressure. He would understand if he got home and you weren’t there. But you’re certain you want this. If nothing, you’ll get more fuel for your writing,

Once inside, you set his key on the counter before making your way to his bedroom so you could prepare for his arrival. Nerves are sneaking up on you but they’re overtaken by sheer excitement once you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the wall on the opposite side of his bed. You begin to undress, watching yourself in the mirror as you pull your dress down your shoulders, revealing the dark red lingerie set you wore for the occasion.

The sound of his front door opening causes your breath to catch in your throat. Finding your spot near the bed, your hands find the tops of your thighs as you kneel on the floor in anticipation of his arrival; eyes cast down like he directed. His footsteps draw closer, causing the butterflies to stir awake inside your gut. The bedroom door opens, but you keep your gaze down. The tops of his shoes come into your vision. “Eyes up.”

Your head snaps up in response, eyes meeting his dark gaze. That salacious grin being the star of the show. “Hmm,” he starts, sliding his thumb across your cheek as he takes hold of your chin, “Already so obedient,” he clicks his tongue, “I like that.” The mild praise makes you grin.

His free hand slides down to fumble with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking together sending shockwaves straight between your legs. You feel the leather being slung around your neck and he sinches the sides together, tightening around your throat. 

Your breath hitches.

“Open,” he says. Your tongue immediately lulled out as you open your mouth, aiming to please him. You groan as a warm stream of spit falls onto your tongue and two of his fingers press down to smear it around the surface. “So pretty like this.”

A whimper escapes you in response.

“Do you remember your safewords?” You nod. “And what are you supposed to do if you’re unable to speak?” Reaching up, you tap his thigh three times. “What about if your wrists are bound?” You snap your fingers before resting your hand against your thigh again. Gurgling sounds fall from your lips as his fingers run over the back of your tongue. “Good girl,” he pushes a little further, “That’s a good girl,” he says as his fingers make their way down your throat, brushing against your gag reflex, causing you to gag slightly. “Ooh, a little training is needed I see,” he mocks.

Your core is on fire and he’s barely touched you. A few dirty words and his fingers in your throat and you’re ready to roll over and bark like a dog, Nevermind the fact that his belt is around your neck like a leash. 

Whimpers leave you at his chastisement, making him grin. Spit rolls down your chin; your hands reach up instinctively to grip the front of his thighs. “No touching,” he reminds you, making you timidly retract them. “Do I need to restrict your hands already?” You try to shake your head in his hold to say no, causing the belt to tighten. 

That was one of the only rules he gave you. “No touching, no kissing, and you have to ask me permission to cum.”

Tears burn in the seams of your eyes as he continues his exploration of the inside of your mouth; fingers prodigy at your gag reflex again. You cough and gag but he presses on just a little further until he feels you instinctively pull your head back. Harry withdraws his fingers as he watches you cough and heave. “Don’t know how you’re gonna take my cock, sweets,” he mocks you again, “you’re already a crying mess from two fingers.”

His words make you audibly groan. You want more. You need more. “Need it, sir,” you smile up at him. 

“I know, pup,” he’s cradling your face. He taps your cheek with those same two fingers, telling you to open again. “You’ll get it,” he spits on your tongue once more, “Now, remember to breathe through your nose this time,” he says before he slides his fingers back in your mouth.

Your ankles are secured to the posts of his headboard; wrists hooked to the leather belt around your waist, and your head hangs over the edge of his bed. Harry’s hands roam your upper body, groping your breasts and pinching your perked nipples. His cock sliding in and out of your throat at an agonizingly slow speed; savoring the feeling of your tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft. “Fuck, sweets,” he groans. A hand sliding up to lightly grip the sides of your neck, “haah, feel that?” he asks, squeezing the sides where your throat bulges, “feel me deep in your throat?”

Drool pours from the sides of your lips; the wet squelching sounds of his cock gliding in and out of your throat is like music to his ears. “This what you wanted?” he asks, pulling himself from your mouth, tapping his length on your lips. You writhe before him, trying to catch your breath. He rubs the tip of his cock over the apple of your cheek, smearing the drool and precum across the surface. “Asked you a question, pet,” he says, giving an open-palmed smack to your right breast, making you yelp.

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe out, “T-this is what I w-wanted.” You wish you could clench your thighs together to feel some kind of friction. His condescending tone has a rush of arousal pooling between your legs.

“Yeah?” he mocks, “Wanted your throat fucked like some cheap whore?” He slides back in your mouth. A whimper escapes your lips as he reaches the back of your throat. Steadying your breathing through your nose, you focused on the task at hand; keeping your tongue flat and your cheeks hollow. You’re squeezing your fists together, creating crescent shaped indents on your palms. It’s like you can already feel him everywhere. You can’t wait to actually feel him everywhere. “Just wanted me to have my way with you?” he slides one hand down between your legs and swipes two of his fingers through your folds, “Such a dirty girl. So wet for me already,” your hips involuntarily buck at the contact with your neglected core, making him chuckle before shoving your hips back down onto the bed.

“Hold it,” he demands as he stills his hips with the tip of his cock nestled in the back of your throat. Five. Ten. The seconds tick by as he tests your breath holding ability. Fifteen. Twenty. You flex your hands before clasping them back shut; Harry keeping a close eye on them lest you need to perform a safeword act. Twenty five. Thirty. “Good,” he commends as he pulls out and you struggle to catch your breath. “Very good, Pup,” he taps your cheek with his fingertips.

Harry maneuvers himself around the bed, grabbing the spool of rope on the floor before moving to settle on his knees between your legs. He frees your left ankle before taking hold of your hips and pulling you towards him, letting your head rest on the mattress. “How’re you feeling up there?” he asks, smoothing his hands up your legs, over your hips and tummy, stopping and rubbing slow circles. 

“G-good, s-sir” you stammer out, still breathing deeply; flexing your hands to get the feeling back in them. You feel his hands grip under your knee, lifting your leg into a bend; foot flat on the mattress.

“Yeah?” he smirks, “What’s your color?” He grabs the spool of rope to his right, beginning to wrap the rope around your bent leg in a frog tie; the back of your calf is flush with the back of your thigh, forcing your leg to remain bent and open.

“Green,” rushes out before you even think about what he asked, you just want more.

Harry smiles at your response, finishing up the last bit on the knots. He runs the tips of his fingers over the rope before lifting himself on his knees to lean over you. “Good,” he smirks. Leaning forward, he braces his weight on one hand near your head. “Well just look at you,” he mocks. Your mascara is running, the lipstick you wore is smeared, and half dried patches of spit and precum litter your skin.

His other hand reaches up to lightly grip the sides of your face, turning your head from side to side in his hold as he really studies his handiwork. “Seems I’ve turned you into a little throat slut, huh?” His degrading words send shockwaves to your cunt. “But, let's see what else your holes are capable of,” He says with a firm smack to your cheek, causing your head to jerk to the left and a masochistic smile to form on your lips.  Harry slides off the bed before appearing above you again, a blindfold in hand. 

Your vision has been taken from you as well as your mobility. He has you exactly where he wants you; pliant and ready for him.

Harry settles between your legs again; teasing touches linger up your legs towards where you want him most. You feel two fingers spread your lips apart. “Hmm, such a wet little pussy. Were you feeling neglected down here while I was fucking your face?” he teases. You whimper in response, making him grin. Ghosting his fingertips over your sensitive bundle of nerves, he slides two of his fingers between your folds before dipping them inside and curving them upwards. A strangled moan falls from your lips. “Let me hear you,” he’s scissoring his fingers in and out of you, “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“G-god, sir. S-so good,” you whimper. “N-need more, please,” your skin begins to heat up; a thin layer of sweat forming. Chills follow; goosebumps littering the surface

“Oh, I’ll give you more,” he chuckles at you, bringing his free hand down in a firm smack on your clit, making you jolt. Reaching to his left, he picks up a wand vibrator, sets it against your clit and turns it on the lowest setting; gradually turning it higher in tandem with his fingers. He’s working you up to the peak of the mountain, steadily keeping you on your toes.

“Please, please, please, can i cum, sir?”

“No,” he’s retracting his fingers and the wand as he watches you whine and writhe before him.

“Hnng, sir, please,” you beg him. “Put it back, please,” Tears begin brimming in your eyes at the loss of stimulation.

“Silence,” he slaps down on your clit again making you yelp. “You cum when I say you can,” his tone firm, “Do you not remember that part of our conversations?” his hand comes down on the bundle again. Warm tears start dampening the blindfold held against your face. You nod your head. Smack. Again. “Words,” he prompts.

“I-I r-remember, Sir,” your voice wobbly, “I’m s-sorry,”

“I’ll bet you are. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure it sticks in your empty little head,” another smack follows.

He’s got you on your knees now, left leg still frog tied and the other reattached to the bedpost, your back in a full arch. Your hands are stretched above your head; wrists tied together with leftover rope. His hands are anchored to your hips as he drives his cock in and out of your cunt. “Sh-shit,” he grunts, “this pussy feels so good; sucking me in like there’s no tomorrow,” One of his hands glides down to tickle the bottom of your foot, causing you to jolt and squirm in his hold. He grins at your attempt to escape the sensations.

“Hnngh, sir,” you groan, turning your head against the sheets. “Feels. So. Fucking. Good,” each word sounding pointed with each thrust of his hips. Your body is addicted to the dopamine rush; still holding on to the feeling of every orgasm he ripped from you with the vibrator before he decided you were ready for his cock. But not before he nestled a dark red, heart shaped plug into your ass to prep for later. You feel so deliriously full with both holes being stretched. 

Harry reaches up, gathering your hair in one of his hands before tugging you up to be flush with his front, keeping up the pace of his hips.

“Know it does, pet,” he switches his hold, gripping the front of your throat with one hand as he slides the other one down between your legs to rub fast circles on your clit. “Can feel you clenching down on me like a damn vice,” His grip tightens on your throat, his fingers speed up as you turn into a crying mess from his touch..

“G-gna cum,” you stammer,  “P-please, let me cum, s-sir,” 

“Cum,” he stills his hips against your ass, but continues his ministrations against your clit causing you to convulse against him’ your abdomen contracting with each wave of pleasure.

“S’too much, sir” you cry out, “Please! Too much!” you wiggle in his grasp. He squeezes the sides of your throat a little tighter as a warning.

“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he reminds you, continuing to massage the abused bundle. 

You choke out a whine in response, your body trembling with red hot pleasure. He knew you didn’t want him to stop. You knew what words to use to get him to slow down.

“Dirty girl. You’ll take anything I give you, huh?” he chastises you, his words scratch an itch in your brain and send you into a second orgasm. He continues to pull delicious sounds from you; all the sounds he’s become obsessed with. Tossing you back down onto the bed, he braces himself on either side of your head as he begins to piston his hips into you, fucking you into the mattress and siphoning every ounce of your orgasm he can out of you. “Such a good little slut, creaming all over this cock.”

His hips begin to slow as you come down and he runs one of his hands down the expanse of your back, before pushing and pulling on the plug.

“Oh, f-fuck, sir. That feels s-so go–ood,” your voice muffled by the comforter. “W-want you in my ass, sir. Please,” you say, turning your face against the mattress so he could hear you.

“Yeah? Wanna feel me stretch that tiny ass open?” he starts to pull on the plug, your hips jerk in reaction.

“Mhm, need it.” you mewl. “Please, sir,”

“I’ll give it to you, pet, don’t worry,” he says as he slowly pulls himself out of you. Harry stands from the bed before pulling you towards him. Maneuvering you to lay on your side with your back and butt facing him as he stands behind you. He smooths one hand up your side, groping your breasts, sliding further along to grip your chin. “Open,” he commands, just like earlier. Opening your mouth, you invite two fingers inside. “Suck.” You happily oblige; wrapping your tongue around his appendages. His other hand reaches down between you to grasp the edges of the plug as he eases it out, toying with you in the process. 

You whine at the empty feeling, but you’re too focused on his fingers in your mouth to really care. Feeling his free hand swipe between your cheeks, he pushes a finger inside, eliciting a gasp from your lips. He takes the opportunity to push his fingers further into your mouth and add a second finger into your ass; slowly pumping the two fingers in and out of the tight ring of muscles. Groans fall from you at the strange intrusion; but you’re craving more.

“M-more,” you moan, voice strained from his fingers pressing on your tongue.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to speak with your mouth full?” He sneers at you, retracting his fingers from your mouth before colliding his fingertips with your cheek.

You smile.

“S-sorry, sir. Feels s–so good. N-need more,” you’re pushing your hips back against the thrust of his fingers.

“Are you a little anal whore now too?” He chastises, but adds a third finger anyways, stretching you as best he can. 

“Mhm,” you whine. “Want your cock. Please, sir.” 

“Yeah, know you do,” he says as he withdraws his fingers slowly. He spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around the head of his cock, smearing the spit over the tip. He aligns himself with your tighter hole before beginning the tight press inside. “Just breathe,”

“Ngh, fuck,” you groan as he slowly inches inside. “Sh–shit,” your body tenses at the intrusion. It hurts so good. The stretch. The fill. Your head is spinning. More. More. More! 

“Mm, such a tight ass. Pulling me in so good,” he continues his shallow thrusts, easing his way inside until he’s fully sheathed. “T-there, we go.”

You’d never been comfortable enough to go beyond a plug in your ass with previous partners. Perhaps knowing you won’t see Harry after is what made you so feral for it this time around. You can’t describe the level of fullness you feel right now. His hands are gripped on your hip, thumbs digging into the supple flesh as he pulls you back to meet each thrust of his hips.

“S-sir,” you whisper out to him, your voice gone hoarse from screaming out in pleasure.

“What, pet?” he squeezes your hip, “you need something?”

“C-can you touch m-me, please?”

“This still isn’t enough for you? Such a greedy girl,” he brings his hand firmly down on your ass. Bringing his hand back, he lifts your leg from behind, tucking two fingers into your cunt; curling them to prod at that spot. 

“Oh, f–uck y-es, right– right there, sir,” your sobs of pleasure are going straight to his cock. “Pl-please, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says with a smug grin etched onto his lips. “You want more?”

“Y-yes, please! Please, sir, more!” You aren’t sure what more he could give you but you’ll take whatever it is. You feel his fingers leave your cunt and his hips come to a halt against your ass. The sound of the wand vibrator coming to life fills your ears. He presses it against your sensitive clit, then tucks the end of the wand under the rope around your leg; keeping it firmly in place. You cry at the sensation. His fingers enter your pussy again, eliciting an animalistic like moan from your throat. “Oh–hngh–oh my god, sir, holy fuck.”

“That’s it,” he smacks down on your hip with his free hand, “Such a dirty little whore, just wants all of her holes filled like the girls she writes about in her dirty books.”

Your whimpers fill the air along with the sounds of sticky, squelching flesh and Harry’s grunts. You’ve never felt so full and empty at the same time in your life. The only thing you’re able to focus on is how good he’s making you feel. He’s kept true to his word; this was all about you and what you wanted. Every fantasy you told him over the week you met up with him at his book store, he brought to life. All of your senses are on fire, but all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.

“Sir, g’na cum! Please let me cum!” you scream. His fingers continue their assault on your g-spot, as he reaches down with his free hand to switch the vibrator to its highest setting before taking a firm grip on your throat and squeezing; sending you over the peak.

“Cum for me,” he demands, pulling the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life from you. A wet feeling forms between your legs and you hear Harry groan behind you. “Ohh, there’s a good girl. C’mon and keep squirting all over me, sweets,” his praises go straight between your legs as more moans and pleas escape from your throat. His fingers work overtime in your pussy; pulling every ounce of your arousal from you. The incessant buzzing of the wand on your clit puts stars in your vision and the feeling of his cock pounding in and out of your ass is the cherry on top. A second wave rushes over your senses, your body convulsing against Harry’s. “There she is,” he coos, “such a good, dirty girl.”

Harry eases his fingers from your core, and switches the wand off before untangling it from the rope and tosses it to the side. He grips your hip again with both hands as he pistons himself in and out of you, finally chasing his own orgasm. “Sh–shit, pet. Gonna cum. Where do you want it?” he pants out, digging his thumbs into the plush of your ass cheek.

“Pl–please cum in my ass, sir. Want it so bad,” you whine out, “Need it, please sir!”

“Calm down, gonna give you what you want, sweets.” His hips begin to stutter, grunts and groans fall from his lips along with cries of your name. He pushes in as far as he can as he empties himself into you–”Fuck, just like that, pet. S-so good”–before retracting his hips and pressing in again; fucking his release back into you. 

“So, was that everything you wanted?” Harry asked as he unties the knots that were keeping your leg bent. You’re lying flat on the mattress, a warm washcloth in your hand as you wipe your face.

“Mhm, and then some,” you smile at him.

“Yeah? Happy to be of service,” he chuckles, beginning to help stretch and massage the muscles in your leg. You wince at the feeling of his fingers kneading the more tender areas. His calloused hands rub and dig the knots left behind. “I’ll take that,” he says, holding his hand out for the washcloth. He rubs it over your sensitive areas, not pressing too hard; really taking his time cleaning up his mess. “I’m going to run you a bath, and make you something to eat,” he stands from the bed, tossing the washcloth into the hamper before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Your thoughts begin to take you hostage as he fiddles around in the bathroom. You’d just let basically a total stranger do unspeakable acts to you, and now you’re about to take a bath in his tub. He’s being sweet to you now, making sure you’re comfortable. But that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to see you after today. 

Upon his return, he catches himself smiling at your naked form laying across his bed. Clearing his throat, he strides over to you and extends his hand. “Upsie daisy, sweets,” he chuckles at the pained look on your face after you take his hand and stand at full height. “How do those legs feel?” he teases.

“Shut up,” you stick your tongue out at him, “I just went through a lot,” you laugh with him.

“Indeed you did,” he smiles sweetly at you. A completely different kind of smile than he’d ever given you before. When he looked at you at the bookstore, it was like a hunter eyeing his prey. Now he’s looking at you as if you’re the reason the sun rises and sets every day. You’re trying really hard not to think too hard into it. 

“He’s just being nice after figuratively beating the shit out of me,” you think to yourself. 

“Are you going to get in with me?” you ask once you reach the edge of the tub. Your big doe eyes looking up at him so sweetly as the words leave your lips. He’d never done something like that before. He doesn’t do the sweet stuff. But with the way you’re looking at him now, how could he say no?

“D-do you want me to?” he asks quietly. 

You nod softly in response, “If I only get one night with you, I’d like to make the most of it,” you turn to step into the tub.

Harry’s heart pangs in his chest. He nods slowly and swallows the lump in his throat. Leaning forward, you allow him enough room to slip in behind you before you lean back against his chest. His arms warily make their way around your body as he pulls you back as close to him as possible. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” leaves you before you can even think about it.

“You’re asking if I had a good time making you bend and break at my will? Yeah I think I did,” he says, making you laugh. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure,” you say tilting your head to the side to look up at him. “I had a great time by the way.” you chuckle before turning back around.

“I’m glad. You did a great job,” He picks up the fresh washcloth he’s gotten for you, and dunks it in the water. “May I?” he asks, gesturing towards you.

“Sure,” you whisper, your cheeks turning a soft pink at the praise. He rubs the washcloth over the expanse of your chest and tummy; up your arms and down your legs, really taking his time helping you feel relaxed. “Thank you, Harry. For today.” you feel yourself lean into his hold.

“My pleasure, Y/N," he smiles against your temple.

“You sure you have everything?” Harry asks as he helps you put your jacket on, pulling your hair from underneath for you.

“I had everything the last three times you asked,” you giggle at him, the sound is like music to his ears. He’d do anything to hear it for just a little bit longer. He said he could do just one night. He swore he could. But why does the thought of you walking out his door make him feel like his chest is going to cave in?

“Just want to be sure,” He smiles that soft smile at you again, making your cheeks heat up. 

How dare he.

“Please, stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, unable to hide your discomfort anymore.

“How am I looking at you?” his voice quiet and sad.

“L-Like you actually care about me.” tears collect in your waterline, “You said so yourself, this was a one time thing. So, please, just stop looking at me like that. It’s very confusing.” The words poured out of you before you could stop them. He just stares at you with sad eyes. “T-Thank you again, Harry. I really appreciate your help.” You say, your voice shaking as you avoid eye contact. He’s studying your face; The hurt etched across your features. The same hurt he felt in his chest, but refused to show. “Good luck with your store,” you say as you pull the door shut behind you, leaving him in the silence of his empty apartment.

c/n: oh my what a ride, right? this is not the last of our brooding pair. you'll see the ending of their story soon!

please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x you #harry x reader #harry styles x you

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

[wumblr]

the way house of leaves has been revived for a cult following is so funny. it's completely backwards! it was a music industry book. the singer poe, who made waves with her debut for having a few tracks produced by j dilla and then if i remember correctly doing a 500+ show tour, essentially tanked her career to promote the book (written by her brother)

not like on purpose but it was supposed to be a paired project and there was a remix with a book excerpt read by mark (the kyrie bmw sex scene) and like, i don't know, a tie-in website -- but then her label got sold or merged or acquired and the project was eventually cancelled after languishing in limbo for a few years. there's also an aspect of this where like, a texas oil executive posed as a friend of her late father (possibly true) in order to manipulate legal proceedings (?) to ultimately own her writing and recording copyrights post-acquisition (dubious allegation, which also relies on her having signed away both types of copyright to her label in the first place, arguably a larger problem spanning the whole industry, even today, still coming up in legal proceedings from kesha and taylor swift and so on)

anyway the album (haunted) and the book were both inspired by the same event (death of their father, tad danielewsky -- as an aside, a professor of theater at brigham young university). the album features samples from a box of cassette tape recordings of his voice. and also some fake samples from a couple of guys pretending to be tad danielewski with an obviously ridiculous accent and a couple of kids pretending to be her as a kid. and it takes place inside the house. the growl is there and everything i swear

it really was one of the top tier 90s concept albums (it was released in 2000 actually) but it is usually FAR too much to handle for casual listening and a lot of it comes across difficult for being so sincere and so unfocused (it is a love letter to her dead father where one of the songs is a list of places she's gotten fucked, because, uh, this is a conversation she wanted to have with him. shrug). and yet it's hard not to take it as it is because it's so consistently well produced

so i know nobody's computer comes with a cd player anymore but to read the book without listening to the paired album implicitly packed in the back of the book jacket is kind of like missing the whole point. there's a whole second act of rashomon you guys are missing. and a third act hello the etsy teleplays. ANYWAY the point i wanted to make is that there are a couple of things about the album sticking to the roof of my mouth as being somehow prescient. there's a distorted "why (are you) so serious" sample that would have come across VERY differently post-joker, but there's also "tell me something dangerous and true," a far more interesting variation on the theme currently circulating. and i'm speaking to an empty room here because it's only the celibate 60% of this website who is reading the book because it allows them a patina of literary validity and several nested unreliable narrators to distance themselves from the sex scenes, but haunted is very authentically, directly and exclusively written in first person and to be honest it fucks too hard for you guys. i'm sorry

#house of leaves

[alotofpockets]

Book launch | Leah Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Reader

Prompt: "What if I don't know how to be a good parent?"

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 1.2k

You loved hosting events in your London based bookstore, story times were one of your favorites. Whether it was the author of a book, a celebrity, or a volunteer, you knew people from the surrounding neighborhoods would show up, and you loved hosting the excited crowd.

Today you got to your bookstore a bit earlier than usual, because today was a special story time. You wanted everything to be perfect. The guests team was setting up the meet and greet table, along with the backdrop, while you set up the seating area and made sure there were plenty of books by the author laying around.

You snapped some pictures and sent them to the author. ‘I hope it's everything you were hoping for.’ You got a message back instantly. ‘It looks perfect.’ You smile and pocket your phone. 

When the team wrapped up you offered them something to drink and you got to talking. While you grab something from the back, your special guest arrives. You spot her looking around the place taking everything in. After snapping another picture you walk up to her. “Hi darling.” You say as you wrap your arms around her waist and place a kiss to the back of her shoulder. She melts into your touch. “Hello, my love. Thank you so much for this. I wouldn't want to kick off my book tour anywhere else.” 

When her team suggested a book tour, she instantly agreed on the condition that the first stop would be your store. Your girlfriend loved to include you in everything, as did you the other way. You were beyond proud of all the hard work she put into this project, and could not wait for the world to see what she created. 

Leah went into the back to get ready while you did the finishing touches on the reading area. Soon after you opened the doors to the store, children accompanied by parents and grandparents started pouring in. Seeing this many kids wearing Lionesses and Arsenal jerseys with your girlfriends last name on the back was incredible. It was wonderful to see how Leah, along with her teammates, were inspiring these young children.

You greeted everyone that came in, telling the kids to find a seat, and pointing the adults to the coffee and tea station you set up. When everyone entered and it was time to start the event, you walked up to the front of the kids. “Hi everyone, my name is y/n, and welcome to my bookstore. Are you ready to meet Leah Williamson?” You smiled when all the kids started screaming ‘yes’. “In that case, I won't keep you waiting anymore. Can you all give a round of applause for Leah, the author of The Wonder Team and the Forgotten Footballers?” The kids started clapping and cheering as one of their favorite soccer players entered the room. 

Leah waved to the group and talked with the kids a bit before sitting down with them and reading them a few chapters from her new book. You helped the adults who wanted to buy a copy of the book at the counter, so that the kids could get them signed by Leah after the story time was done. Throughout the checkouts you kept looking over to Leah, amazed at how zoned in all the kids were to her words. 

“Alright, that was the story. I hope you liked it.” Leah tells the crowd. “I will take a short break and after that I want to meet each and everyone of you!” And she did, all the kids wanted a one on one moment with her. She spent the afternoon taking pictures, signing copies of the book, and little pictures of her for the ones not buying a book. 

When everyone had their turn, you walked up to her station with your own copy of the book. “Hi, I would love for you to sign mine.” Leah smiles, “You bought a copy, even though we have a full box of them at home?” You nod, “Yes, because this one is special. It marks your book release and the start of your book tour.” Leah takes the book from you. “You're too cute.” She started writing her personal message to you. You read the message with a smile on your face, her cute message warming your heart.

To my love,

Thank you for your ever growing love and support. You've always been in my corner, and I couldn't be more grateful to have you in my life. 

Much love,

Leah x

Once everyone left, Leah's crew said that the two of you could hang back while they cleaned everything up. You gladly accepted the offer, and took Leah's hand. “So, tell me, how was it?” You asked as you sat down. Leah sat down next to you with a big smile on her face, “It was amazing. Seeing their reactions to the story line was so much fun. And meeting them was so wholesome. Thank you so much for hosting this, it made everything extra special.” You place a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Of course, you know I love hosting story times, and like you said, this one was extra special.”

A smile creeps onto your face. “What are you smiling at, my love?” Leah asks. “I was just thinking that I can't wait to have a couple of little Williamson kiddos running around.” You see Leah's facial expression change, “Hey, what's wrong? Should I not have said that?” She shakes her head, “No, no, you’re good. You know I want to have kids along the road, it’s just that lately I’ve been thinking. What if I don't know how to be a good parent?" You place your hand on her leg, hoping to offer her some comfort as she’s clearly been struggling with this.

“Oh, darling, I had no idea you were worried about that. I completely understand being worried about big subjects like that, it can be hard to imagine those kinds of things because we have no experience with it. That being said, from how I’ve seen you interact with these kids today, as well as with the children in your family and from your teammates, I think you will be an amazing mom. You really have a way with kids, I know all the kids in your family love their Auntie Leah very much. Darling, you have nothing but good in you, and I know that when we have kids, you will love them with your whole heart.” Leah looks up at you, “You really think so?” You nod. “Yes, I do. It will be something we can work toward together, read up on parenting books, take classes if you’d like, do some baby sitting together. We can prepare in any way possible, and when we’re both ready, we will continue to learn as our little kiddos grow up.” 

Leah leans into your side and you hold her for a while, placing soft kisses to her head. “I love you.” She mumbles into your shoulder. “I love you too, darling. Are you ready to go home?” You close up the store and drive home together. Spending the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch together. Both posting some pictures from today on your social media, sharing this special day with the world. 

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a tip 💗

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #woso x reader #leah williamson imagine #wosoimagines #woso imagine #woso #leah williamson x you #awfc #lionesses #engwnt #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #pockets celebration

[lemonwrap]

Okay, imagine: Merman Ghost and marine biologist Soap. 

Soap is a young, intelligent marine biologist who is invited to study a newly acquired mermaid. Of course, the species is not newly discovered, but, like great white sharks, its proven impossible to keep them alive in captivity for more than a year or so. They’re also difficult to capture in the first place, and the only reason Ghost had been captured was because he had been injured.

Soap is introduced to Ghost. The tank is barren, with no hiding spots and not much substrate, so Soap gets an eyeful of the beautiful merman in the tank. He’s huge, with a sleek black tail, pale, scarred skin, and a matching set of gills on either side of his neck. The other researchers think that the scars are from nets, or perhaps from attacks from other members of his solitary species. Ghost swims up to the glass to investigate Soap, which surprises the other researchers, who describe him as elusive and reserved. 

After being shown a tour of the facility, Soap gets started at his new job. His job is to study and observe Ghost, especially his behavior, so it’s no wonder that Soap ends up feeding him one day. Ghost pokes his head out of the water and watches Soap with sharp, intelligent eyes, but seems bored of the fish. Soap tries to talk to him, and Ghost is interested, but he doesn’t have the same vocal chords a human does, so he cannot speak like a human would. 

The next week, Soap goes out of his way to get some fresh, exotic fish from a market, which Ghost greatly enjoys, judging by the happy chirp he lets out. They grow closer. Soap even picks up a book on British Sign Language and teaches both himself and Ghost so that they can communicate. Communication between mermaids and humans is unheard of, but Soap keeps it a secret because Ghost feels special to him. He knows he’s neglecting his work by not recording it, but he doesn’t tell a soul anyways. 

Once he has the words, Ghost tells him of many things, from the fact that he liked the exotic fish that Soap had brought him, to that he had been attacked by a shark before he had been brought to the research center, to that he wishes he had hiding spots, to that he misses the ocean. Ghost even comes up with a special sign for his name. Soap gets him some accommodations, like a proper hiding spot and some plants for his enclosure, and tells him more about himself.

But as the time goes on, Ghost’s shiny scales grow dull, he becomes skinnier, his appetite lessens, his happy moods are much less frequent. Soap knows that his time is drawing near. It has to be. It’s been nearly a year of captivity, and the longest living mermaid in captivity had only lived a year and a half. 

So he hatches a plan. 

He stays late one night, and breaks Ghost out. He carries the merman out to his car and drives to the ocean nearby, and releases the ailing Ghost off of a pier. Ghost disappears in a flash, and Soap knows with an aching heart that he will never see him again. 

It’s a few weeks before Soap returns to the pier where he released Ghost. He feels torn between missing Ghost, and knowing that releasing him was for the best. And then he notices something. A dark shape in the water stands out to him, and before he knows it, Ghost is peering out of the water, frantically signing Soap to him and chirping happily. 

#cod #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost cod #soap cod #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #lemonwrap writes #drabble #mermaids

[quirklezz]

Thank you so much ❤I was thinking that yn is Toms gf and is very loved by his fans as well, but also because she's a book author and tries her best to stay put of the spotlight("my books speak for me") and let Tom shine. Her aura is just super mesmerizing. I was thinking she could be a horror author( like the love child of Stephen King and Anne Rice) and Tom is her #1 fan. What do you think?

Bookworm | Tom Blyth

a/n: Thanks so much for requesting I love this idea since I also love reading and inspire to be an author myself. Feedback is appreciated and requests are open!

tomblyth Hard at work 🖤 @ynusername

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user1 LET HER COOK 🔥

user3 this may be my sign to start reading her books skskskskksksks

↳ user2 you def should I love her writing

user5 Tom has a gf?!?

↳ user1 Yes but she doesn’t post much since she wants to keep out of the spotlight

↳ user5 respect

user4 I know for a FACT Tom made that cup of coffee for her

↳ user3 yep!! I think he mentioned it in an interview before

ynusername trying to write but I’m getting distracted by the view @tomblyth

view all comments

user3 caption is so real

user4 if Tom was in front of me I’d be distracted by him too

user1 me during finals with that one Tom Blyth edit iykyk 😫

↳ user2 A MAN A MAN A MAAAAAN

user3 not me opening up booktok after seeing this

↳ user6 do you think YN knows about booktok?!?

↳ user1 I wonder if Tom knows about booktok because of her skskskskksks

↳ user3 her horror stories are so booktok coded fr

tomblythdaily Tom during the press tour for tbosas where a fan asked him to sign @ynusername newest addition to her horror series

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user4 we love a supportive bf

user1 omw to get a copy 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

user5 babe wake up new horror book just dropped by @ynusername

user2 they better turn one of her books into a movie already she deserves it

↳ user3 facts!! especially since Tom is her #1 fan and an actor he could easily star as the lead

↳ user4 Tom in a horror film written by YN we’d love to see it 👀

user6 was a YN fan before a Tom Blyth fan but I love seeing how they support each other

↳ user1 power couple fr!

tomblythupdates Tom is confirmed to play the lead in @ynusername film adaptation of her #1 best selling horror series. Follow us for more updates!

view all comments

user6 I’m so proud of her

↳ user2 same 😭

user3 SHE DID THAT

↳ user1 facts!!

user5 the fact that her book is being made into a movie and her bf gets to star in it is so inspiring to me 🥹

↳ user4 she’s winning at life

user6 @ynusername is saving the horror genre of 2024

↳ user1 she’s been saving it since her first book release

↳ user7 I haven’t read the books yet but now I want to

user1 Stephen King who? I only know YN ☕️

↳ user6 and I oop-

#tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth imagine

[borninwinter81]

Library tour - Pratchett and Gaiman focused with some honourable mentions

Of course I've constantly had full bookshelves since I was a child, but I'd always wanted a room I could properly call a library. The house my husband and I now live in has 3 bedrooms, so as we're child free we've each taken one of the spare rooms to do with as we wish.

The majority of the furniture you see is thrifted (aside from the bookcases) and it was self decorated with a lot of cut corners-for example I decided instead of proper flooring it would be cheaper just to pull up the carpet and varnish the actual boards.

I spend more time in here than I do in our living room 😁

Gaiman stuff. Sandman alongside some Alan Moore, Preacher, Hellblazer, my signed copy of The Crow and one volume of Sin City. Two copies each of Ocean (one illustrated), and American Gods (original and authors preferred text). And of course one of my copies of Good Omens. Plus you can see the novelisation of Pan's Labyrinth sitting next to Neverwhere. Del Toro is another favourite fantasist of mine.

Pratchett stuff. Complete Discworld of course, and I'm slowly increasing my non Discworld Pratchett collection, my second copy of GO, the Paul Kidby illustrated edition (makes sense to have one living with the Gaiman books and the other with Pratchett). Soul Music and Hogfather are both signed, I met Pterry when I was 14 on the Hogfather signing tour.

The crocheted toy was actually from a pattern for a mimic I made (pattern by Complicated Knots on YouTube), but it's luggage-y enough that I put it with the Discworld books, Rob Wilkins' biography of Pterry, and a Librarian to look after everything, make sure the books don't get rowdy and take care of the L-space. I've had him since I was 18.

Specifically Good Omens stuff: a pair of felt plushies a friend made for me after S1 was released (@diedarlingsuk on Instagram), a pair of drawings I bought from a very talented 15 year old artist at a tiny comic con also after S1, (I'd credit her but I've no idea of her name or if she has an online presence), the script book, the TV companion, and an art book by the wonderful @mistysblueboxstuff, who I'm sure most of the fandom know and love. This contains all her GO art from S1 and S2.

Honourable mention stuff - I put above that I love Del Toro, so I've got to share the Angel of Death from Hellboy 2 as its one of my favourite things in this room. And its an angel, so that's kinda linked.

Made for me by another friend from clay on a doll's body and the wings on wire frames (@sids_workshop on Instagram).

Finally the Complete William Blake illuminated works, a guidebook to a Blake exhibition I went to, and Gustav Dore illustrated copies of Dante, Milton, Coleridge, Tennyson and Poe. I am a huge poetry nerd, and I think many GO fans would find a lot to interest them in some of these, particularly Blake and Milton.

I could go on, there's tons of other stuff I'd like to include but this post is fairly massive already and I wanted to try and stick to my theme.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #good omens #go2 #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #guillermo del toro #books and reading #home library #books & libraries #the luggage #discworld #The Librarian #book omens #good omens book #the sandman

[boldlyvoid]

Love Story

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: About a week into knowing her, Spencer knew he wanted to marry her one day. So, for her birthday, at The Eras Tour, he kneels to the ground and pulls out a ring...

Warnings: allusions to sex, stupid couple fights, Spencer spoiling her, roadtrips, food and drink mention, talks of the future (future kids) proposals.

a/n: this fic is for my best friend in the whole worlds birthday. @reidsbookclub, i love you, i hope you have the best time at your concert tonight <3

Word Count: 6k

Set in the Sweet Nothing Universe

He’s been in Reno for 3 months and dating Y/N for 3 months now, too. 

They practically live together now that it’s summer vacation for her. She took on some kids for tutoring, and she sees them a few hours a week whenever they have time. She mostly goes to their houses or meets them at the public library, which is right next door to his work. She brings him in a coffee or a snack whenever she’s in town, they have lunches together and she even stays a little longer in town so she can drive him home afterwards. 

It’s been wonderful. 

Everyone at work knows her, they call her Mrs. Reid as a joke and she thinks it's cute… Spencer, on the other hand, wishes she was his wife so, so bad. It’s way too early to ask her, even if he knows in his heart that she’s the one for him. So he’s waiting. He’s not sure how long he’ll wait. He doesn’t even know if she wants to get married one day. He still has some things to learn about her. 

Her birthday is coming up, soon, he knows that much. He actually learned about her birthday when Penelope was first telling him all about her. August 4th, making her a Leo, the lion sign, even though she’s as gentle as a flower. 

They haven’t planned anything for her birthday yet, it's still a couple of weeks away. He knows she’s told her kids that she’ll be busy from the 3rd to the 6th, taking 4 days just to herself, she wasn’t planning on doing anything. Spencer wants to treat her to something so bad. Be it a nice dinner, a gift she wants or a trip somewhere. So he takes those 4 days off too, he books it in advance with his boss, it’s approved and now he just has to plan something. 

During one of his lunch breaks that she isn’t sitting in on, he takes out his phone and calls up Penelope. Having known Y/N longer, she’s the perfect person to discuss ideas with. 

“Spencer my lovely! What are you doing calling me at 3pm on a weekday?” She answers full of cheer. 

“Y/N’s birthday is coming up, I need your expert advice on what to get her,” he heads right into it, skipping all the niceties, he only cares about her. 

“Taylor Swift tickets, duh!” 

“I tried that months ago, they sold out way too fast,” he complains. “We missed the Vegas show 'cause I obviously didn’t know her in March, all she has left are the Seattle and California shows… but again, they’re all sold out and the resale tickets are insane.” 

“Hey, six grand for 2 tickets with the love of your life is so worth it,” Penelope teases. “I might have a connection to the Inglewood show… maybe I can see if they have any last-minute tickets?” 

“How do you have a ticket connection?” 

“My brother's wife works for Ticketmaster, she said they save some tickets for important people until the last minute and if they’re not taken, they get released to the general public and you can get better deals if you call Ticketmaster instead of going online,” she explains. “I’ll give her a call, I’ll see what she can do.” 

“Okay, call me back when you know more?” 

“Will do, Spence-roo,” she says before hanging up, making him smile. 

—

He goes home to Y/N’s apartment that night, they have a home-cooked meal together and they settle down on the couch to watch something on TV and just relax for the rest of the night. 

She’s cuddled into Spencer’s side watching TikTok on her phone. She scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, barely watching anything for more than 30 seconds and then she stops on one. Spencer can hear the music and the cheering, it’s a tour video. He peeks over to it, watching as someone proposed to their girlfriend in the middle of Love Story. 

She likes it, opens the comments and congratulated them. The next words out of his mouth are barely in his control. They just tumble out. 

“Do you ever think about getting married?” 

She smiles up at him, “To you? Absolutely.” 

He pulls her in for a kiss. She locks her phone and tosses it to the side so she can climb into his lap and kiss him some more. His hands migrate to her hips, and she runs her fingers through his ever-growing hair. Making out with her on the couch, she lightly grinds against him, he hums into the kiss, breaking it to kiss her jaw along to her ear. 

“I’d want to marry you too…” 

She cups his face, staring him down, “Ask me whenever you’re ready.” 

“It’s not too soon?” 

She shakes her head, “No… I mean, people will probably think you knocked me up because of how fast we’ve moved but, it’s been 3 months. We know everything about each other, we sleep beside each other every single night, and I never want to break up with you. The next logical move would be to get married.” 

He steals another kiss, “I think,” he kisses her again on her jaw again, making his way down her neck, “You’re right.” 

She smiles, letting him go down to her boobs, “about people thinking you got me knocked up?” 

He laughs against her, “I mean, we fuck so often—

“No, don’t even joke,” she pulls his attention back to her. “You can’t get me pregnant just randomly, I don’t have enough money to pay for my substitute. You’d have to knock me up so I can have the baby in the summer…” 

He laughs, “You’re not serious, right?” 

“I’m completely serious. I don’t get maternity leave, I have to have summer babies if I want to keep my job.” 

“I have money,” he reminds her. “If we get married it becomes our money, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again.” 

She settles slightly, her shoulders drop again and she stares at him so softly, “I’d still worry, you know me.” 

He kisses her again, reaching up to brush her hair back, “I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life… and if we ever had kids, you know I’d do the same for them.” 

“Do you want kids, like genuinely?” She asks. “Cause I know you love Henry and you said that you thought about having them with Maeve but—

“I want you to have my babies… whenever you’re ready,” he tosses the phrase back to her. 

That does it, she dives back in for another kiss, heating it up tenfold, he cradles her head and back, leaning down against the couch so he can hover over her. Working the button on her jeans open, he starts to tug on them when his phone rings. He wants to just let it ring, but it’s Penelope's ringtone. He hasn’t changed it, no matter how long he hasn’t worked with her, it’s still the same thing. 

“Hold on,” he whispers, trying to pull away. 

“Leave it,” she tugs him back in. She gets a few more kisses in and then he pulls back further. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he reaches out to grab his phone off the coffee table and walks out of the apartment to take the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” Penelope answers. “But I have good news. We were able to pull some strings and I got you 2 floor tickets for the 4th.” 

“No way?” He’s gobsmacked. 

“Way!! I gave her your information, the tickets are in your name and they’re being mailed to you so you’ll have physical tickets. You can just pay me back.” 

“What was the damage?” 

“they were $1800 each…” 

“That’s a lot better than the resale price,” he’s so glad. “Thank you, Penny, really, she’s going to love this.” 

“Hey, she was my friend first, I’d do anything for her,” Penny teases. “Now go back to hanging out with her, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

“thank you, we love you,” he reminds her. 

“I love you too!” And then she’s gone. 

He heads back inside and she’s no longer on the couch. The tv is off, all the lights are out, and she’s retreated back to the bedroom. He knocks before he enters, “Hey… sorry about that.” 

“It’s fine,” she says, clearly a bit upset. “I get it, works more important that me sometimes.” 

“No, no it’s not… and that wasn’t work.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Cause it doesn’t.” 

He timidly walks towards her, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. I know. But it was important… it’s for your birthday, that’s all I can say.” 

She bites back a smile, looking him dead in the eyes. “Really?” 

He nods, “You still have from the 3rd to the 6th off, right?” 

She nods, “I do… why?” 

“I’ll tell you more when the day gets closer, just, don’t plan anything, I want to make this special. This is our first birthday together, I want to celebrate you.” 

“Okay, you’re forgiven,” she gives in, she rushes over to him and tosses her arms around his neck. “But next time it rings and you’re about to go down on me, it can wait.” 

“It definitely can,” he agrees, picking her up, he tosses her onto the bed. “Let me make it up to you.” 

—

She watches the era’s tour live streams on TikTok every weekend, she favourites outfits that she’d want to wear and she tells Spencer all about the surprise songs that she’d want to hear live one day. 

What she doesn’t know is that Spencer has memorized everything she’s said and he’s been using it to his advantage. He’s found her Pinterest board with eras tour dream outfits, and he’s made a playlist of her favourite songs so he’ll be able to sing along no matter what surprise songs happen. And he’s started to buy tour outfits for himself too. 

He puts a lot of work into her tour outfit, too. It’s midnights themed, he got her a denim jacket with the back panel cut out and replaced with a starry lace pattern. He bought iron on paper and printed out her favourite lyrics to iron onto the arms and put stars on a pair of dark blue Converse. He’s even been making friendship bracelets while on his lunch break at work. He just hasn’t been able to decide on what to get her to wear under the jacket and with the shoes. Nothing seems to be perfect enough. 

He’s walking home from work one night when he passes a window display full of sparkly dresses. He just doesn’t want to get her the wrong size. So he has the bright idea to take one of Y/N's dresses with him to the store to compare sizes. Trying to steal one of her dresses… that’s going to be difficult. 

“I have a question for you,” he asks that night at dinner. “But you can’t ask any follow-up questions or anything, okay?” 

“Alright..?” 

“Can I have one of your dresses to compare to a dress I want to buy you for your birthday?” 

She swoons, “Yeah… or you could take my measurements?” 

“Either way, I just want to make sure it fits.” 

And so that night she gives him one of her favourite dresses. She tells him the size she prefers in different fabrics and he makes a mental note of every single thing she says. 

-

The next day, he brings the dress to work with him, people want to ask questions but they don’t. He makes it through the day, walks out of work with the dress and right into the store he saw yesterday. 

The shop owner clocks him right away, noticing the dress, she thinks he’s making a return. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” 

“I’m surprising my girlfriend with Taylor Swift tickets for her birthday and I’m trying to plan her outfit, too, and the dress in the window is perfect! I brought in one of her other dresses, just to compare sizing so I get it right,” he explains. 

“Oh my god, aren’t you the dream boyfriend?” She teases. “Can I see that?” 

He places it on the counter for her, she takes a look at the tag and holds it up, “I think I have the window dress in this size… what era are you going for?” 

“I made her a jacket in the Midnights aesthetic and her shoes are evermore,” he shares. “The dress in the window is kinda mirrorball-esque, I like it.” 

“You know your shit,” she can’t believe it. “Do you have an outfit picked out?” 

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t decide if I want to do fearless or lover…”

“You could do both, get a puffy Romeo shirt and some pink pants, that would be cute?” 

“Yeah, yeah I like that idea… you know the Lover album cover, the heart she has around her eye? How would I do that?” He asks, he hasn’t had someone to talk to about any of this, so he’s taking a chance and asking everything. 

She’s really helpful, she’s able to get him the dress in the right size, show him where he can get adhesive sparkles for the face, helps him plan his own outfit and even get some accessories too. He spends a fair bit of money in her store and he thanks her. 

“I’m going to bring her back here after the tour, maybe she can get her engagement party dress here,” he suggests. 

“Wait, are you going to ask her to marry you at the show?” 

He nods, “During love story.” 

“She’s one lucky girl,” the shop owner swoons again. She’s overjoyed for them. “If you bring her back here for that I’ll give you a discount, that’s the sweetest thing in the world. I really hope she says yes.” 

“Me too.” 

—

He stole a piece of her costume jewelry when she wasn’t looking, a ring she typically wears on her right ring finger and brings it with him to all the jewelry shops he goes to. Finding a ring that feels like Y/N is hard. He wants it to be perfect, he wants it to be big and pretty and something she’ll show off to everyone. He wants it to be a ring that will stay in style for the next 50 years, he wants it to last. 

He’s looked at a million styles, every colour and cut imaginable… but nothing seems right. He knows the kind of rings she likes from her Pinterest, but even they don’t seem to fit what he imagines for them. This ring is supposed to symbolize their love and their relationship. It has to be perfect. 

He finds the ring on Etsy of all places. It was his last chance to get a ring. There were only 2 weeks until her birthday and he had to make sure the ring was in his possession before they took their trip to LA. 

The ring comes in two parts, one ring for the engagement and the other for the wedding. The wedding band perfectly encompasses the engagement ring, making the main ring look like it has little leaves coming out from around it. 

He gets them in white gold, the main stone is a man-made, oval-shaped diamond and the stones around it are man-made opal, 4 on each side to be exact, shaped like little diamonds. The wedding band also has man-made stones, in green. Together, they look perfect. He has them expedited, he pays the artist top dollar to make sure they’re at his house by August 1st and he prays they make it. 

—

She picks him up after work on July 31st and when they arrive at his house, there’s a package sitting on his front step. Part of him is furious that they just left it, they didn’t leave a drop-off notice and take it back to the UPS store for safekeeping, the rest of him is relieved that it made it. Y/N on the other hand, is nosey. She wants to know what he ordered. She’s curious as to why he didn’t want to open it in front of her, but she doesn’t bring it up again once he hides it in his room. 

They’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she wraps her arms around him, stands on her tip-toes and rests her head on his shoulder to watch him stir around the pan. “Can I ask a question about my birthday?” She pries slightly. 

“Depends on the question.” 

“Do I have to pack a bag or anything?” She asks the first question. 

“Yeah… I got us an Airbnb for the few days we’re taking off work,” he explains, not giving away too much.

“Okay, and what should I pack?” 

“Underwear, pyjamas, comfy clothes,” he lists off a few things. “Makeup and whatever you want to do with your hair… I’m going to tell you what’s happening the day of, you’ll have a few hours to plan for each event.” 

“Each event?” She picks that out. 

He just nods, “You’ll find out more later.” 

“Fine,” she sighs, resting her chest against his back now, she holds him tighter. “I’m going to go all out for your birthday too, you know.” 

“I know… we’re kind of obsessed with each other,” he teases. 

“I think it’s called love,” she reminds him. 

“You’re right… I do love you a lot,” he says as he spins around in her grip and hugs her close, kissing her neck gently. “I love you so much.” 

She hums happily, “I love you too, sneaky man. It’s killing me that I don’t know what’s happening but I trust you.” 

“Good,” he pulls back and cups her cheek. “How would you feel leaving late on the 2nd instead of early on the 3rd?” 

“We can do that, I know you prefer driving at night,” she knows him well. “We can pack after work and leave once we’re done.” 

“I will be packed the day before,” he teases. “I’m not a last-minute man.” 

“Oh, I know, you don’t do anything lightly, but I might need help packing,” she reminds him. “You can help me pick out accessories and shoes to match whatever you got me.” 

“You think I didn't get you shoes and accessories? Have you seen me?” He teases, that’s one thing she loves about him. He’s always matching.

She just laughs, “Of course you did.” 

—

Spencer walks from his apartment to hers with 2 suitcases, one for his own things and one just for their eras tour outfits. He has her second key fob, so he unlocks her car when he arrives and puts his things in the backseat and heads up to her apartment. He knocks once but ultimately lets himself in. “Babe?” 

“Bedroom!” She calls back, letting him know where she is. 

“Hey…” 

“So I’ve played out a bunch of outfits, what ones will be good for what you have planned?” 

“Anything is good, I have your outfit for the main event planned, the rests are dinners, brunches and us driving to and from California.” 

“We’re going to California?” She can’t believe it… but then she clues in. “Oh my god, Spencer, why are we going to California?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, you tell me?” 

“I’m going to lose my mind if we’re doing what I think we’re doing,” she explains, rushing to his side, she places her hands on his shoulders, “I’m going to go nuts.” 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to…” 

She can’t believe him, she just hugs him and holds him there, “Oh, you’re so cute when you try to lie to me, I love you so much.” 

“I love you,” he hugs her back, kissing the top of her head. “Now, hurry up and pack, we can check into the Airbnb after 10pm tonight, if we leave now we could be there by midnight?” 

And so they pack her up, they check the apartment to make sure everything is off and all the widows are closed and they head out. She locks the door, he brings her suitcase down to the car and she lets him drive. He’s a lot more comfortable on the road at night, he takes them out of Reno, down Highway 695 towards Carson City. They see Bridgeport, Willow Springs, Mammoth and Crowley Lake, Big Pine, Independence, Long Pine and then they stop for gas and a snack. He drives from Long Pine to Ridgecrest and then they pass through Mojave around 11:30. 

They’re in the home stretch now. She knows exactly what’s happening when they go through Santa Clara.  She can see on their GPS that by taking the 405 south they’ll end up in Inglewood in just a few minutes. 

He got them a cute little Airbnb just a stone's throw from the stadium, they’d be able to walk to and from if they wanted to. Once he parks outside of it, she turns to him with tears in her eyes. “How did you manage to do this?” 

“Penelope,” he says with a smile. “She knows someone at Ticketmaster, they got me really good tickets for the 4th. I bought you an outfit, I made myself one, too… I know how badly you wanted to see her so I made it happen.” 

“You really are the man of my dreams,” she swoons. “Thank you.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he reminds her. Meaning every word. 

“I know… now let’s get all our shit inside so I can give you a proper thank you.” 

—

They spend their first day there just looking around. They have brunch at a cute little spot she’s always wanted to try, they visit the National History Museum and Exposition Park. It’s a lovely day where they just get to hold hands and be together. They order dinner to their Airbnb and eat while watching TV and then they spend another night in bed together. It’s perfect. 

When they wake up on the 4th, Spencer smothers her in kisses and wishes her a happy birthday… they don’t leave the bed for a while after that. 

He orders her breakfast and while they’re waiting for it, he shows her the outfit he has picked out for her. The dress, her jacket, the shoes, a cute little clear purse for the stadium and a lot of sparkly makeup options for whatever she wants to do. 

“Spencer, this is perfect?” She’s amazed by it all. “How did you know?” 

“I found your Pinterest,” he shrugs. “and you always show me cute outfits on TikTok, I took a lot of inspiration from what I knew you’d like and your favourite songs to make this… and these,” he pulls out a ziplock bag full of bracelets. All handmade. All perfect.

She spreads all the bracelets out on their bed, and she reads each and every single one. He has sent titles, lyrics and abbreviations, even quotes from Taylor that he’s memorized from how many times she’s watched Miss Americana on her days off. “Spence, how am I going to part with these?” 

He shrugs, “Don’t trade your favourites? Maybe leave any special ones here?” 

“Yeah, I guess I could do that… I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of making these just for me, seriously, when did you have the time?” 

“On my lunch breaks,” he laughs to himself. “I had no idea what I was doing and then Keesha, our undercover girl, showed me how to make them better.” 

“Everything is perfect, Spence,” she stands and wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “This is going to be the best night of my life.” 

She really had no idea. 

“I was thinking we could maybe go get our nails done,” he says as she pulls away. “We don’t have to be at the stadium till 6, I think it would be nice to get some eras nails done? I might even get some colour?” 

“Yeah, that sounds amazing!” She agrees, not thinking anything of it. 

He really just wants her to think her nails are pretty when he slips the ring onto her finger later tonight. 

He already made the appointment with a local nail salon for 1pm, giving them enough time to head back to their Airbnb and get ready for the show and maybe even get something to eat before they go. He’s such a planner. She loved every second of it, it made her less stressed to know that he already knew everything that was going on and he was confident about it too. 

He gets his nails done as well. He’s always wanted to but never had the chance to. He gets just basic gel while she goes all out with a shorter acrylic shape, she gets sparkles and stars all in the 10 different album colours and she loves them. She keeps staring at them the whole walk home, she loves how they sparkle in the light and how pretty the shape makes her hand look. 

The ring is going to look even better on her hand now. 

They shower together back at their place, Spencer watches in awe as she does her hair and her makeup and it’s not until the end that he hands her the adhesive sparkles and asks her to help him put the lover heart around his eye. 

“What did you plan for your outfit?” She asks while carefully sticking each sparkle to his face. 

“I got some bright pink pants, like, highlighter pink, bright,” he smirks. “I also bought a puffy shirt like Romeo… I wanted to go for Lover Story.” 

She laughs, “Oh you’re going to look good.” 

“I also bought cowboy boots…” 

“You didn’t,” she can’t believe it. “What colour?” 

“Pink.” 

“Oh my god, Spence… really?” 

“well like you said Lover and Midnights go together like they were planned to be back to back and you’re my other half so I wanted us to match… and then I’m partly fearless which came after Evermore which is on your shoes, so, it all matches.” 

“I love you,” she cups his face gently, “like it’s insane how much I love you.” 

“It’s not insane. It’s the perfect amount,” he teases, pulling her in for a kiss. 

—

She doesn’t know they have front-row seats until they’re at the stadium getting their tickets checked. The best part of her reaction at the gate is that she thinks this is the last surprise… she’s so overjoyed with the thought of being that close to Taylor Swift that she can’t even fathom him proposing tonight. 

From all the Tiktok's that she’s watched since March, she knows that the best time to go to the merch stands isn’t before the concert. It’s during. So, on their way to their seats, they simply buy some overpriced drinks and trade a couple friendship bracelets before heading towards their seats. She looks around with her mouth agape, amazed at how big the place is and how much of the stage takes up the floor. 

At their seats, she shakes her head and lets out an exasperated laugh, “I can’t believe you got these?” 

“Only the best for my girl,” he teases, wrapping his arm around her, he brings her in and kisses the top of her head. “I love you, Happy birthday.” 

“I love you,” she smiles up at him. “Thank you for this, really. I’m going to thank you a million times.” 

“You don’t have to,” he waves it off. “I wanted to come too, you know, she’s a big reason we’re together in the first place.” 

“If only we could tell her thank you,” she laughs. 

“We should’ve made a sign,” he teases. 

“We should’ve…” she agrees. “Maybe I can just put big text on my phone and hold it up to her?” 

“That could work.” 

So that’s what she does, sitting in her seat, waiting for the opener, she drafts a few things to say while the stadium starts to fill up. 

It takes a while before someone behind them actually shows up. Spencer worried there for a moment that the seats behind him didn’t sell and thus part of his plan for tonight would be ruined… but then a couple girls, in their teens, show up just before HIAM comes out to play. 

Spencer takes something from his pocket, pretends to reach between their seats to the floor and turns back to one of the girls. “Um, I think you dropped this,” Spencer says to the girls behind them, he hands them a note and a $5 bill. Y/N watches him hand it back to them and then turns right back to watching the openers play. 

“Oh thanks,” the girl says with a smile. She opens the note and her eyes widen as she reads it. 

‘Can you please record me and my future fiancé during love story? I have an important question to ask her and I want to remember it forever.’ And his number at the bottom. 

She looks at Spencer with her eyes full of tears and nods, mouthing “I can do that.” 

He gives her a thumbs up and turns back to watching the show. HAIM are a band he’s heard Y/N play before, he’s surprised how many words he knows just from being around her. They’re amazing and he knows that because they’re on the tour now, that means their song with Taylor has been added to the setlist. He really likes that one, even if it is about premeditated murder. 

He knows the setlist like the back of his hand. It starts with Lover, the intro is a remix of all her eras names over top of the song Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince, the dancers wear these big sheets of fabric, peacocking around the stage and then they cover the middle of the main diamond stage. Once they lift the sheets back up, however, Taylor emerges onto the stage and the crowd goes wild. 

He’s seen the show on Tiktok live so many times that he’s okay with missing it in person, instead, he watches her. He watches the way she stares at Taylor like she hung the stars and the moon herself. Like she’s some sort of god and everyone here is blessed to be in her presence. She cries, shaking her head in disbelief, she chants the words back to her and doesn’t even realize Spencer has been staring at her the whole time. 

“Look how close she is,” Y/N bumps his shoulder and points. “She’s literally right there.” 

“I know,” he smiles, so in love with her he couldn’t even pay attention to Taylor. 

When Cruel Summer starts, she screams so loud, Spencer’s sure she’s going to lose her voice tomorrow. He finally starts paying attention to the show now. Singing along, he knows all the words. He actually really loves this song. And the man. He loves everything from Lover simply because he’s so deeply, deeply in love. 

Post-lover, Taylor heads in for a costume change and thats when Spencer starts to feel anxious. He’s 2 songs away from his big moment. He checks his pockets, he still has the ring, in its box staying safe, it’s right there and ready to go. He almost blacks out for most of Fearless, he snaps back into it for You Belong With Me and the first note to Love Story gets his heart beat racing a million miles a minute. 

He looks back at the girl behind him who has her phone out already she smiles at him, nodding like she’s ready to go and he takes a deep breath. Taylors walking down the catwalk, she’s going to be literally right in front of them when he gets down on one knee… he doesn’t think she’s seen a proposal this close and in person yet on this tour? Maybe she’ll notice them? 

He sings along, genuinely loving the song and it steadies him a little. Y/N is singing too, jumping up and down and pointing at Taylor during all the best parts. She’s having the time of her life… she has no idea what’s coming.

The second chorus comes and he reaches into his pocket, he’s holding the box in his hand and his heart is in his throat. 

“And I got tired of waiting… wondering if you were ever coming around, my faith in you was fading! When I met you on the outskirts of town!” Y/N sings along. “And I said Romeo save me I’ve been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you but you never come is this in my head I don’t know what to think, he kneels to the ground and pulled out a ring and—

She notices then that he’s dropped to one knee, following the song, he holds open the little black box and she screams. Everyone in their section is screaming. “Marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone I love you and that’s all I really know!” Spencer sings along to the song.

She’s frozen, can’t believe this is happening and real but she looks at the ring and then at him, her eyes full of tears. “Yes!!! Yes, I’ll marry you!!” She gets down to the ground with him and pulls him into a kiss, he smiles into it, happier than he’s ever been in his whole life. 

When she pulls back he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her ring finger. He helps her back to her feet and all she can do is stare at it. “Holy shit?” 

“I love you!” He shouts, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I want to love you forever.” 

She pulls him into another hug, not even noticing that Taylor did see it. She pointed at them, she got excited and there was footage of it from a million different angles that she’ll get to see later. She finishes the song, running back to make her mark and then she disappears once again to get ready for Evermore. 

Y/N snuggles into his side, her left hand resting on his chest, she keeps pulling her hand back to look at it. There’s just enough quiet between eras that she asks, “Where did you get it? It’s beautiful.” 

“Etsy,” he says with a smile. “It was on my doorstep the other day when you came over.” 

“No way?” She laughs, “how long have you been planning this?” 

“Since I asked you how you felt about getting married one day,” he admits. 

She stands on her tiptoes and leans in for another kiss, “I Love you.” 

“I love you,” he reminds her. “Forever and always… but I actually mean that.” 

She laughs, “god, you really are the number 1 fearless stan, aren’t you?” 

He’s about to reply when the girls behind him poke him in the back, “Hey!” They both turn around. “I texted you the video and my friend got the other angle of Taylor's reaction!” 

“She saw it?!” Y/N freaks out. 

They nod, freaking out with her, “Yeah!! She pointed at you guys and she was so happy!!” 

“Holy shit!” Y/N shouts for the second time. “This is the best day of my fucking life, how does it keep getting better?” 

“I don’t know man, but congrats!” The girl says. “You guys are so cute together.” 

“Thank you,” they say at the same time. 

She looks at him this time like he hung the stars. If you told him just 4 months ago that he’d find the love of his life and get engaged to her at a Taylor Swift concert of all places, he would’ve laughed… now he can’t imagine his life going any other way. 

This is where he was always supposed to be. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86 @buckleyhans 

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Middlemen without enshittification

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Enshittification describes how platforms go bad, which is also how the internet goes bad, because the internet is made of platforms, which is weird, because platforms are intermediaries and we were promised that the internet would disintermediate the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

The internet did disintermediate a hell of a lot of intermediaries – that is, "middlemen" – but then it created a bunch more of these middlemen, who coalesced into a handful of gatekeepers, or as the EU calls them "VLOPs" (Very Large Online Platforms, the most EU acronym ever).

Which raises two questions: first, why did so many of us end up flocking to these intermediaries' sites, and how did those sites end up with so much power?

To answer the first question, I want you to consider one of my favorite authors: Crad Kilodney (RIP):

https://archive.org/details/thecradkilodneypapers

When I was growing up, Crad was a fixture on the streets of Toronto. All through the day and late into the evening, winter or summer, Crad would stand on the street with a sign around his neck ("Very famous Canadian author, buy my books, $2" or sometimes just "Margaret Atwood, buy my books, $2"). He wrote these deeply weird, often very funny short stories, which he edited, typeset, printed, bound and sold himself, one at a time, to people who approached him on the street.

I had a lot of conversations with Crad – as an aspiring writer, I was endlessly fascinated by him and his books. He was funny, acerbic – and sneaky. Crad wore a wire: he kept a hidden tape recorder rolling in his coat and he secretly recorded conversations with people like me, and then released a series of home-duplicated tapes of the weirdest and funniest ones:

https://archive.org/details/on-the-street-crad-kilodney-vol-1

I love Crad. He deserves more recognition. There's an on-again/off-again documentary about his life and work that I hope gets made some day:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#putrid-scum

But – and this is the crucial part – there are writers out there I want to hear from who couldn't do what Crad did. Maybe they can write books, but not edit them. Or edit them, but not typeset them. Or typeset, but not print. Or print, but not spend the rest of their lives standing on a street-corner with a "PUTRID SCUM" sign around their neck.

Which is fine. That's why we have intermediaries. I like booksellers (I was one!). I like publishers. I like distributors. I like their salesforce, who go forth and convince the booksellers of the world to stock books like mine. I have ten million things I want to do before I die, and I'm already 52, and being a sales-rep for a publisher isn't on my bucket list. I am so thankful that someone else wants to do this for me.

That's why we have intermediaries, and why disintermediation always leads to some degree of re-intermediation. There's a lot of explicit and implicit knowledge and specialized skill required to connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, and other sides of two-sided markets. Some producers can do some of this stuff for themselves, and a very few – like Crad – can do it all, but most of us need some help, somewhere along the way. In the excellent 2022 book Direct, Kathryn Judge lays out a clear case for all the good that middlemen can do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

So why were we all so anxious for disintermediation back in the late 1990s? Here's a hint: it wasn't because we hated intermediaries – it was because we hated powerful intermediaries.

The point of an intermediary is to serve as a conduit between producers and consumers, buyers and sellers, audiences and creators. When an intermediary gains power over the audience – say, by locking them inside a walled garden – and then uses that lock-in to screw producers and appropriate an ever larger share of the value going between them, that's when intermediaries become a problem.

The problem isn't that someone will handle ticketing for your gig. The problem is that Ticketmaster has locked down all the ticketing, and the venues, and the promotions, and it uses that power to gouge fans and rip off artists:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

The problem isn't that there's a well-made website that lets you shop for goods sold by many small merchants and producers. It's that Amazon has cornered this market, takes $0.51 out of every dollar you spend there, and clones and destroys any small merchant who succeeds on the platform:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can stream most of the music ever recorded. It's that Spotify colludes with the Big Three labels to rip off artists and sneaks crap you don't want to hear into your stream in order to collect payola:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can buy any audiobook you want. It's that Amazon's Audible locks every book to its platform forever and steals hundreds of millions of dollars from creators:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

The problem, in other words, isn't intermediation – it's power. The thing that distinguishes a useful intermediary from an enshittified bully is power. Intermediaries gain power when our governments stop enforcing competition law. This lets intermediaries buy each other up and corner markets. Once they've formed cozy cartels, they can capture their regulators and commit rampant labor, privacy and consumer violations with impunity. That capture also lets them harness governments to punish smaller players that want to free workers, creators, audiences and customers from walled gardens. It also hands them a whip-hand over their workers, so that any worker who refuses to aid in these nefarious plans can be easily fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A world with intermediaries is a better world. As much as I love Crad Kilodney's books, I wouldn't want to live in a world where the only books on my shelves came from people prepared to stand on a street-corner wearing a "FOUL PUS FROM DEAD DOGS" sign.

The problem isn't intermediaries – it's powerful intermediaries. That's why the world's surging antitrust movement is so exciting: by reinstating competition law, we can keep intermediaries small and comparatively weak, so that creators and audiences, drivers and riders, sellers and buyers, and other groups seeking to connect will not find themselves made subservient to middlemen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

#pluralistic #intermediation #disintermediation #publishing #creative labor #middlemen #distributors #publishers #publicists #enshittification #monopoly #monopsony #crad kilodney #trustbusting #antitrust

[alicerosejensen]

Find me

Warning: mention of blood, violence (physical and psychological), mention of viruses, parasites, zombies; kidnapping; the reader has a slight anemia; Fem/reader; established relationship with Leon.

Synopsis: You could have a quiet wedding and a good life with the person you love most in the world. Leon was ready to protect you to the death from his enemies and viruses but… it seems that someone is also interested in you. And the price for life will be very high.

A/N: The idea from this post that I wrote about quite a long time ago. "Together forever" I'm not very good at writing (apparently the Yandere theme is not mine, no matter how much I like it). So I'm going to try this plot. I don't know how many parts there will be, but if everything goes well, then probably a lot (maybe 10-12 or so). I hope someone likes it because I have serious notes on this work in my notebook, as if these are sketches for the 9th part of the resident).

Tags will be added to the following parts. I was very much inspired by the remaster and Haunting ground when I was taking notes. After all, both games were made by Capcom.

Feedback is welcome (but no insults!)

Sometimes the worst horror happens in the name of love. It's not the worst plot for books, films or paintings that are more than a hundred years old and it's impossible not to admit that sometimes we want to be loved until our death.

And maybe after it.

The words sound soft, with a slight taste of regret, as if somewhere between the letters there is a treacherous "I'm sorry". But in fact it was so predictable. Leon hugs you too tightly, experiencing an inexhaustible sense of guilt, because he promised to decide together where you will spend your honeymoon, which is unlikely to last exactly a month, he promised to watch a movie with you that you have been planning for a long time and… and everything went to hell.

Leon nuzzles your cheek and devoutly kisses you gently, leaving a wet trail with his eyes closed. Another sign of his eternal love, his lips are imprinted on the bridge of your nose, making you smile from the slight tickle caused by his stubble. He had no power over not being called to work for at least another week, but the government is not interested in the personal life of his best agent. And yet you enjoy the way he puts his arm around your waist, holding you as tightly as he can.

"Okay, Mr. Kennedy," you joke kindly, inhaling the almost faded scent of his cologne. "I forgive you, once again. Run to save the world" You smile looking into his crystal blue eyes filled with sadness and longing.

"I promise that I will ask the authorities for a good vacation," Leon swears very sensually, continuing to hold you tightly in his hands and look with those puppy eyes from which the soul is torn apart and kisses again this time on the forehead, "If necessary, I will harness Ingrit and no one will bother us. We'll plan everything the way you want, even if it's a tour of all the castles in Europe"

You laugh sincerely, removing the bangs from his face, hoping to stretch the moment of intimacy with him longer. It was so warm and safe next to him that you snuggled up to his chest and he gently cradled you in his arms like a child.

"Don't do anything stupid in my absence"

"I still need to do an exhibition and maybe I'll finally clean up the bookcase," you lie knowing full well that the books will still lie randomly on the shelves and you won't even touch them. Actually, your work was the only thing that could save you from the all-consuming longing for Leon.

"Be careful, okay?" with some hidden fear, he asks, reluctantly releasing you from the ring of embraces. "I'll call as soon as I get a free minute and I'll really be back soon"

Leon is already out on the street and you follow him with a sad look, noticing some dark car to the side. Rightly deciding that they came for him, you lower your head, sighing heavily and literally taken aback when Leon's lips abruptly cover yours with a demanding and somewhat rude kiss that you forget how to breathe. At some point you try to seize the initiative, but strong hands push you against the wall and you hit the back of your head a little painfully, allowing him to dominate. As always.

"I would eat you right here," Leon said sarcastically and quietly stroking your hips, "But I really have to go."

And you silently bite your lower lip while watching him move away from you and get on his bike.

Well, that cool car wasn't for him, but this thought quickly leaves your head and in the end, tired of standing on the street, you just go back into the house, closing the door, grabbing the phone and immediately sending him an impatient "I miss you already." However, this does not prevent you from also ordering food with home delivery and watching some movie to pass the evening that was hopelessly spoiled.

The evening really became disgusting, neither delicious food saved him, nor a good movie will save him.

"Complete shit" a quiet curse came off your lips when you looked at the phone screen for the hundredth time in the evening and endlessly reread Leon's last message "My love…" which seems to have been imbued with such despair that tears came to your eyes. He was like a big kid who couldn't live a day without you and besides, only with you his sleep was like a more or less healthy one. You were his only light and he wanted that light to stay with him forever. Well, you could send him a hundred more messages, but it's unlikely that he will have the opportunity to read them in the next few hours or even days. So with bitterness, you just turned off the TV and went to the bathroom to get ready for an earlier than usual sleep.

Hot water pleasantly calmed and warmed the skin flowing down the body. You spent 15 minutes in the shower, brushing your teeth and doing all the usual and favorite cosmetic procedures, smeared your body with a lotion with a pleasant floral scent, waiting for it to soak into pale skin. The mood even improved a little when you changed into pajamas and straightened the bed once more before putting your head on the pillow and looking at the phone.

Nothing.

There's no point blaming Leon or doubting his love. It wasn't up to him. Sometimes he was dragged out of bed late at night and you could not see him for weeks without even being able to talk on the phone for one minute. But when he returned, he turned into a puppy clinging to his beloved owner and covered your body with a lot of kisses, not letting you get out of bed. Not that you mind… You always miss him and worry about him.

Sighing, you turn over on your side, putting the phone on the bedside table and not seeing the desired message from your fiance. Therefore, grabbing Leon's pillow, the lungs are filled with his smell and instead of feeling his presence, you experience only a deep feeling tearing apart that makes your heart beat a little faster.

And closing your eyes, you reach for the switch, when suddenly for a second the phone quickly notifies you of a new message from the addressee next to whose name the heart turns red.

"Don't forget to take the pills that the doctor prescribed for you. I want this sickly pallor to disappear. Love you"

Well, smiling, you took a screenshot of the message for some reason, saving it in your gallery on your phone. After sending Leon the answer, you still remembered that you really forgot about those pills once again, but you didn't want to get up anymore, so you left this matter for the morning. Sighing once again, trying his luck in the hope that Leon would write something else, your mobile was treacherously silent while you were just flipping through the social media feed.networks thinking only about how dependent you are on this man. However, the same can be said about him. The phone went out, as did the light in the bedroom, and sleep slowly overtook your mind when you hugged else's pillow without hearing quiet footsteps in the next room. The uninvited guest, thanks to Leon, had to tinker a lot with the lock of the front door before he unlocked it, quietly closing it behind him so as not to attract your attention while you were in the shower. Merging with the surrounding darkness, it was necessary to wait for the right time and prepare the syringe so that everything went as it should and the target was quietly neutralized without attracting the attention of neighbors.

The order was well paid and the fact that Leon left the house on that day was only to his advantage. After all, a government agent can ruin everything and getting rid of him threatened big problems that were not needed by anyone, but who will remember about his pretty bride, about whom he will probably quickly forget everything himself? The unknown person only needed to stick a pomeranian, inject the substance and quietly take the target out of the house by throwing a fake note with a handwriting similar to yours that you and Leon do not see the future for yourself. Pick up a few personal items and throw them in the nearest trash as proof of the truthful departure of the unfaithful bride.

Not the worst plan, especially since Leon Kennedy will think about your disappearance and how natural it is, no one really cares. Even if he suspects this ill-conceived plan, by that time you will be too far away from here anyway.

The problem was solved by itself because you are a simple art worker did not pose any threat even if you tried to resist. One step, two… the blessed victim will not suspect anything until the very moment when someone else's hand in a black glove closes her mouth and sticks a needle into her body. You fall asleep without suspecting anything, somehow reflexively reaching to the left side where Leon usually sleeps with his back to the bedroom door.

You are separated by literally a few meters from each other before one inept movement spoils everything.

The sound of falling books that Leon has been asking you to arrange exactly for so long makes you open your eyes by squeezing the pillowcase of the pillow and the "guest" freeze without touching the door handle. However, you felt a gaze on you that did not let you be deceived that someone had entered the house.

In Leon's bedside table there is a 9mm pistol fully loaded. It's not that you were very accurate, but Leon took you to a place as entertainment, where you trained shooting at targets under the watchful eye.

"not the worst result for a beginner," he said condescendingly so as not to upset you, but it was fun even if the gun was real.

Except now there are no jokes! You heard another step towards your side and held your breath, gathering strength for a jerk to pull out the gun and remove it from the safety. From fear, the heart beat faster, causing the blood to roar in your ears and before the intruder's hand landed on your face, you abruptly rolled to the left side of the bed, throwing a pillow at the person standing over you, winning for yourself a couple of seconds from his confusion.

Jumping to your feet, you quickly grabbed the gun pointing it at the man with trembling hands, removing it from the safety.

"Your own life is more expensive," you thought when a man of impressive size in a mask stood a meter away from you without a weapon, because his goal is to deliver you alive because you will not be of any use dead.

You held his floor at gunpoint, but your hands were shaking from the unusual weight and you really wanted to lower them down, but you held on trying not to panic. A step towards you and you pulled the trigger without aiming so stupidly hitting the closet, startled by the loud noise of the shot, immediately shrinking and from unaccustomed frightened by the strong recoil of the weapon.

"Fuck," he swore loudly, immediately rushing to you, forcing you to scream at the top of your voice while miraculously dodging. Rushing to the door, the first thought was to run outside and ask for help from neighbors, especially since the sound of a gunshot and a woman's scream certainly did not go unnoticed and someone probably should have already called the police. We just need to hold out. However, you only managed to jump out into the corridor when suddenly a strong man's hand roughly grabbed you by the hand in which you were holding a gun and your finger pressed the hook again making a shot.

Again a loud noise, your screams and a small hole in the ceiling.

Again the bullet flew by.

"Get off me, you bastard!"

A ringing slap in the face and you abruptly fell to the floor dropping the gun somewhere to the side. He immediately hung over you, but grabbing the first book that came to hand, you threw it in her man's face and taking advantage of another hitch jumped to her feet, running on without thinking about how much lip hurts.

And yet, the chances of escape were initially small, especially when shortness of breath began due to anemia and the chest began to ache sharply. A deep breath did not help even if your body was filled with adrenaline, he still knocked you to the floor, pressing your whole body to the floor, taking that ill-fated syringe out of your pocket and sticking it into you by quickly pressing the plunger . It only takes a few minutes, but because of your screams and shots, even they could put the entire mission under the "failed" icon, so without wasting even these precious minutes, the kidnapper grabs you by the hair and just hits your head on the floor suppressing resistance at the root. The world before your eyes becomes hazy and barely audible when a strange and unusual feeling of lightness covers you despite the pain in your head.

"Bitch ruined everything"

This bastard threw you over his shoulder and quickly ran out of the house, leaving the syringe lying there on the floor because there was no more time. Throwing you carelessly like a sack into the backseat, he slammed the door and gave gas to get away from the crime scene as soon as possible and dump the tail by moving to another car. They'll pay him well anyway.

You only blurred vision being on the verge of consciousness silently watched your loss until a long sleep covered you.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy resident evil #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon scott kennedy x reader

[sophiewith7es]

some of my six of crows modern headcanons xx

nina and inej are taylor swift and phoebe bridgers best friends

inej is vegan and i will not be explaining myself

matthias’ snapchat username is matthiashelvqr but jesper’s is animal_loverjes123 because he made it when he was nine

wylan is scared of planes but not helicopters

jesper is scared of helicopters but not planes

nina and inej listened to midnights together when it was first released

jesper got matthias into star wars

jesper loves the prequels and clone wars, matthias prefers the original trilogy and rogue one

both nina and jespers first bi panic was watching pirates of the caribbean

kaz has a secret fear of escalators so he always takes the stairs even though it actively causes him more pain

kaz and wylan watch criminal minds together in silence, but they both say the line about tracy lambert together

matthias falls asleep to animal documentaries narrated by david attenborough

inej jesper and nina are big greys anatomy fans

wylan’s first crush was teenage simba

matthias plays rugby

they have a book club (audiobook for wylan)

they read the acotar series and all had vastly different opinions

nina was an avid zoella watcher

kaz doesnt pay for any streaming services but has all of them anyway, jesper also doesn’t pay but uses everyone elses

matthias pays for the netflix account though

him and nina share one profile and everyone else has their own profile

nina cried when they took new girl off netflix

kaz says he prefers dc over marvel just to cause conflict

jesper read percy jackson growing up and still has the same battered copies he read as a kid in his room no matter where he lives

nina was a harry potter reading child and also still has her original copies of the books

HARRY POTTER REWATCH MOVIE NIGHTS!!!!

wylan is a secret marauders stan

nina jesper inej and wylan are all marauders era fans but wylan is soooo much worse

wesper = wolfstar

jesper’s favourite movie is the breakfast club

kaz says his favourite movie is fight club but it’s actually fantastic mr fox

kaz follows six people on instagram: inej and all the members of one direction

he does that to piss the others off

jesper went viral on tik tok one time

matthias loves oasis (both the band and the drink)

nina fought for eras tour tickets and managed to get them all tickets

kaz is going as reputation (his usual attire) jesper as lover, wylan as evermore, inej as speak now (she got the speak now dress), matthias as debut (they got him a cowboy hat) and nina as red.

matthias secretly cried over the how to train your dragon ending

matthias and inej read a lot of classics and share their collection, they both annotate the books as well and enjoy seeing what the other has written

kaz has a do not disturb sign on his bedroom door like in a hotel and puts it on the door handle even when he’s not in there

kaz is weirdly good with technology

jesper collects mugs

kaz and inej steal pint glasses from pubs

when inej and nina listened nothing new on red(tv) they lost their minds

kaz loves boygenius

matthias and wylan love modern family, wylan’s favourite character is gloria and matthias’ is jay

jesper loves formula 1 and its the only sport he’ll watch

nina and matthias play animal crossing together

kaz terrors jesper on terraria

when they play minecraft functionally, inej is the builder, jesper is the farmer, matthias and wylan mine, kaz has netherite armour in like half an hour and nina collects flowers and tames animals

when they play minecraft disfunctionally they just blow shit up

kaz plays the guitar

inej DEVOURED the cruel prince series

zoya and genya are nina’s foster/adoptive sisters

wylan is scared of clowns and is like that one episode of new girl when nick has to go into the haunted house

whenever jesper does something stupid or doesnt do something or whatever he says ‘#yolo’ and moves on and it drives kaz insane

jesper has muggies of everyone

inej takes 0.5 pictures of everyone when theyre sleeping without them knowing

matthias loves the hunger games series

kaz regularly predicts major global events

wylan loves breaking bad

#six of crows #six of crows headcanons #six of crows spin off #PLEASE #nina zenik #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #jesper llewellyn fahey #matthias helvar #helnik #kanej #wesper #shadow and bone #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone cast #spin off pls #zoya nazyalensky #genya safin #modern au #modern six of crows #six of crows modern au #soc

[cultofsappho]

In honor of AGCD 🤠, a list of my berserk findings in roughly chronological order RE: A RWRB Sequel:

1. When the movie come out, Casey did an AMA on Threads for both Alex, then Henry. In Henry's AMA, they posted this:

Meaning at the very least they'd be open to writing/sharing/creating more for Alex and Henry, if not a direct sequel [more from the AMA: X]

2. Casey also had an interview with Out Magazine in Nov '23 where they were asked if the want to write a sequel and they said "Of course I'd love to! 😉 I don't think i'm allowed to say anything more than that.😊" They're so fucking precious. We all know what 'not allowed to say' means. [twitter video: X]

3. Taylor has had a bunch of interviews recently, mostly as an ambassador to the SAG awards. He's been asked a dozen times about a RWRB sequel and everytime he says something along the lines of "Anything could happen! But I don't know, they don't tell me these things aha! 🤪 Give me a call!" And he's so unbelieveably obvious that his interview clips have already been compared to Andrew Garfield denying having any role in Spider-Man: No Way Home: [tiktok: X]

4. PrimeVideoUK has been bringing up RWRB & Firstprince more on social media recently. It could be for any number of reasons, it's their movie they can market however they feel like. Especially since Nick has a bunch of projects releasing rn (one of which, The Idea Of You is also releasing on Prime this summer), they may want to capitalize on the attention on him. Or, it could be to test RWRB's engagement #s... [tweet: X] [tweet: X] [twitter poll w/a rwrb sweep: X] [tiktok: X] And all the comments on these posts (and more) are begging for a sequel. So, if their social media manager is passing on the message... 👀

5. This is def a reach, so if you don't mind, i'm pulling out the red string for this conspiracy corkboard. But Casey was recently in London, it could have been a trip for literally anything. But, the first movie was filmed (and maybe produced idfk) in London. [insta post: X] they sold the movie rights for RWRB before the book was released, if I'm remembering that right, but maybe they retain rights to sign off on a sequel.

so anyway i was thinking about all those little things adding up in my head and thinking i was on to some kind of conspiracy then Nick goes and does press for Mary & George (which i just started, and is amazing btw) and says this shit:

6. Nick confirms in an interview with HitsRadio that they're talking about a RWRB sequel. Just flat out: "Yeah obv conversations are happening, duh! 😇" energy. God bless him. He says there have been conversations about a sequel. And, they're all on the same page that the script needs to be right and "all the components" need to be right. [X minute 15:50 they bring up the rwrb sequel, but the whole interview is great and you should watch it!]

ANYWAY i'm in a land of delusion, gnawing on the iron bars of my enclosure, etc, but also maybe not bc they're talking about a sequel and now we just need to wait for the greenlight

And (pseudo point #7), it would be a dumb business decision for Prime to not make a sequel. RWRB did way too well for an LGBT product, releasing during a dual actors and writer's strike, with little to no promo and zero press tour. From the RWRB Wikipedia page: "For the first three weeks after its release, it was the top watched film worldwide on the platform and provoked what Prime Video described as "a huge surge" of new subscribers." [X] And subscribers are all these streaming services care about.

I can't wait to reblog this with a screenshot when they inevitably post an offical confirmation for a sequel movie...

#the special intrest popped out here ngl #but im having fun with my red string and frantic gesturing towards social media screenshots #let me have this #rwrb #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #rwrb sequel

[harlowsbby]

Fluff Concept: Jack is on the road performing and the reader stayed behind so he calls just to hear her voice and tell her how much he misses her?

Love Cycle

Being away from you wasn’t easy on Jack, he knew this was his career and what he basically signed up for, but boy did he miss you dearly.

The one thing he missed the most about you was your voice. It was just so soothing and soft and even though it might sound weird, your voice just always helped him relax.

You stayed behind this tour mainly because you were close to graduating college and you also had a full time job that wasn’t going to let you have months and months off of work to follow around your well known boyfriend.

“Jack, you’re due on stage in a few minutes.” Nemo told Jack as he walked past his dressing room. “Alright, thanks Nemo for letting me know.”

Jack frowned and looked down at his lock-screen, it was the two of you. He was laying down on the couch with you on-top of him the two of you in a deep slumber. Urban had taken this picture it was taken at the party for his album release of Come Home The Kids Miss You.

The two of you were completely exhausted and just ended up falling asleep on the couch together.

Jack decided to call you after a couple of rings you finally answered. It was around 7 in the morning in Louisville right now and where he was at it was about 8 at night.

“Hello, Jack?” You groggily said into the phone, he bit his lip nervously he didn’t mean to wake you up. “Baby, I’m sorry for waking you up baby.”

It was quiet for a few minutes he heard the sound of the sheets and blankets being tossed around, meaning you were getting up. “It’s okay I had to get up anyways, you know I don’t really like sleeping in but last night I stayed up studying for my final.”

He chuckled, “Baby you study so damn much you’re literally going to turn into a book worm.” Giggling you got up and went into the bathroom. “Whatever I’d rather be a bookworm than a big headed loser like you.”

He gasped dramatically making you double over in laughter, it was the simple things Jack did that made you double over in laughter. He could be walking down the street and almost trip and you’d be laughing your head off.

“Damn so I got a big head now? You wasn’t saying that when I was deep in your-.” “Jack! It’s literally 7am it’s too early for all that.” He laughed. “I’m sorry baby, so what are you doing today?”

Finishing up making your coffee you made your way back into the living room and sat down. “Well I’m not really sure yet, I know Clay is back home for a few days he asked if I wanted to hangout with him but I might stay home.” “Yeah just stay inside or something babe.” “Yeah I think I might.”

It was quiet for a few minutes the two of you just enjoying the silence. “I miss you a lot Y/N.” You frowned even though he couldn’t see you. “I miss you too Jack.”

He started tearing up he truly and honestly missed you. Being away from you was hard you were his other half and not having his other half with him at all times just didn’t feel right. “I wish you were here so bad baby you have no idea, I can’t sleep at night without you by my side.” He sniffled into the phone. “Are you crying Jack?”

He sniffled again. “What, no I don’t cry I’m a man.” Smacking your lips you rolled your eyes. “Jack I know you’re crying whenever you cry you always sniff a lot.” “Well fine I’m crying, I’m crying because I miss you and I want you by my side you know I don’t really do well when you aren’t here.”

You went to interrupt him but he wasn’t finish talking yet. “I know you have your own life outside of me and I get that but I fucking miss you. I miss waking up and rolling over and seeing you next to me, I miss hearing you laugh, I miss having to look and search for clothing because you took them, I just miss you baby please I need you here with me.”

You knew Jack was going to act this way he always did, looking over your school calendar you noticed spring break was in a few days so that have you the idea to come fly down and be with Jack for a few days, you’d be off work considering your boss gave you two weeks off for your spring break.

“Well I go on spring break in three days, if you want I’ll come fly down and I’ll be all yours for two weeks, how does that sound.?” The frown on his face was slowly turning into a grin followed by a smile.

“Really baby? You’d come all the way out here and see me.” Hearing the excitement and happiness in his voice made your heart beat. “Of course, you know I can’t go long without seeing that little freckled nose of yours.” He laughed. “Thank you baby I love you so much.”

“I love you even more Jack.” “No I love you even even more Y/N.” You gasped dramatically and playfully. “Well I love you all the way to the moon and back.” Your little battle of who loves who more was interrupted by Nemo and Urban.

“Jack, come on man you’re due on stage you can finish this who loves who more battle shit later.” Jack’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “You’re such a simp man.” Urban added on.

“I love you more.” Ace mimicked your voice. “No I love you way more baby and you know this.” Urban spoke trying his best to sound like Jack.

“Give me a kiss babe.” Ace and Urban made kissing noises which resulted in Jack throwing some random piece fruit that was in his dressing room at the two of them.

“You have to go?” Your voice came from the phone. “Yeah baby but I’ll call you once the show is over?” “Okay that sounds good. I love you Jack and I can’t wait to see you.” “I love you too baby.”

The two of you hung up, Jack started missing you again but he knew in three days you’d be wrapped up in his arms again and he’d be loving on you and kissing all up on you none stop.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

[ladyamanda123]

HOLY FUCK!!!!

You guys! YOU GUYS! This has to be fake right??? Like it legit has to be fake!?! This can’t be real! If this is fake I hope blondie sues the mother fucking shit out of this!

T A Swift……Taylor Alison Swift

OBVIOUSLY

Tortured Poet

OBVIOUS

Fucking EYE theory cover!!!! I’m DYING @9w1ft

Page count 213!!!!!!

Release Date the DAY BEFORE TTPD album drop!?!?

The presale price……8.11…..

Help me out fam! What’s the significance of this???? All of my potential connections feel like stretches for now…..

2 days after KK showed up to the party (aka 8.9 eras tour) could be a hugely significant date for them (which may be revealed in the poetry/lyrics)

8 is obviously August - KK’s Bday

11 is November - 🎶 I recall late November, holding my breath, slowly I said, “you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?” “Yes” #Karlie would you want to

Alexa play Call it what you want to!

Any other 8.11 significance my baby Kaylor brain is missing? It’s such an odd price it has to mean something!

EDIT : Also those ✌️ peace sign flashes she’s been giving us a lot lately….I keep thinking double album drop but what if it’s hinting at an album and book combo!? The bonus track is called The Manuscript! Is this the fucking bonus track!? Is the The Manuscript?!!

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!!!!

#taylor swift #kaylor #the tortured poets department #fragments of a tortured poet #what the actual fuck is happening right now!?!?! #Taylor unhinged #mastermind

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

hello can you do a xavier thorpe with midnight rain ?please

This has been in my drafts for so long and I did not plan for this to be over 2.7k, but here we are. Midnight rain is one of my favorite on Midnights so I couldn't not write this

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You've dreamt of writing novels since you could hold a pen.

At nine years old, you wrote your first short story, a dark mystery starring you and your sister Wednesday. Your English teacher was both impressed and horrified when she read it. She sent it to a writing contest for young writers, believing your writing skills deserved to be read by bigger names, but the judges preferred a tooth-rotting romance written by a typical American sweetheart.

You never stopped writing. On the contrary, you were spending more time with your typewriter, perfecting your storytelling and expanding your vocabulary. Those judges were too narrow minded and weak stomached to appreciate your writing.

At eleven years old, you met Stephen King at a book release event. You were the youngest in line and may or may not have skipped school in order to meet him. Sorry, Mrs. Jackson, but Stephen King was of greater importance than your lecture on World War I. You got him to sign your favorite book and dropped a folder with your name on the cover. The horror writer was confused, thinking it was something else you wanted him to sign — it wasn't.

''It's my first novel. I would like you to read it.''

His opinion mattered more to you than those judges from the young writers contest.

Wednesday, the ever so pessimist, kept telling you he would toss your novel in the trash and move on with his day, but a few weeks later, you received a handwritten letter from the man himself. He had read your short story. He called it macabre and at times disturbing, which was a praise coming from him.

Ten years later, you were standing in the very same bookstore you met Stephen King. But this time, you were the one sitting behind the table and signing books.

It felt surreal seeing your name on a book cover.

The New York Times listed you as one of the promising authors under the age of thirty, which made the sales of your novel go up.

You were getting ready for your signing, making sure you had enough pens and that your dark lipstick was not on your teeth when Eleanor, your personal assistant for this book tour, came up to you holding a bouquet of flowers.

''These were sent to you, Ms. Addams,'' she said, placing the bouquet of black dahlias on the table.

You looked at it in confusion. ''Who are they coming from?''

''They aren't addressed to me, I legally cannot check.''

You nodded in understanding and sent her off. Whoever had sent these knew your favorite flowers. Most assumed it was black roses, but you preferred dahlias — like the murder.

You took the small card attached to the bouquet and read it.

Congrats on the novel. I knew you were gonna make it.

X.

A rush of emotions swarmed through you. You had recognized the handwriting, the perfect calligraphy of the boy who once owned your heart.

Sometimes, you catch yourself wondering what your life would be like if you hadn't broken his heart during your last year at Nevermore. You would be lying to say you didn't miss him. Xavier was more than a teenage romance. He was the love of your life, but your and Xavier's vision of the future, life after Nevermore Academy, didn't align. He wanted a comfortable life, away from the spotlights. You wanted the world to know your name.

You tried to make the relationship work, you really did. You thought you could do it, true love can get through the hardest ships, but you started focusing on your writing more and more, and lessening the time you spent with Xavier. He was understanding, knowing how important writing was to you. Sleepovers became less frequent as your nights were spent with your typewriter, weekly dates turned into monthly dates, and the 'I miss you's outnumbered the 'I love you's.

This wasn't fair to Xavier. He deserved someone who wasn't always going to make him second in her priorities. You had always been driven by a greed to succeed, the desire to accomplish your dreams. Love had come to you when you least expected it. It had never been part of your life-plan.

With a heavy heart, you found yourself turning the page on a relationship you thought would last your lifetime, because when you love someone, sometimes you need to let them go. Even if it hurts.

''Madelaine is asking when we'll begin,'' your assistant asked, pulling you out of your mind.

You shifted your eyes away from the card, hiding it in the pocket of your trousers.

Eleanor averted her gaze from you, turning to the beautiful flower instead. She was curious of their provenance, but knew it was none of her business. ''Eh, sorry. I didn't want to interrupt—''

''What is it?'' Your tone was a little rude, but you didn't get to apologize.

''There's a line outside that extends to the café and the owner is complaining that it's blocking the way and interfering with his business. Madelaine is asking when we'll begin.''

You glanced at the large clock on the wall. ''I'm meeting Wednesday and Enid for lunch at 1pm. I need to be finished by then.''

Eleanor nodded. ''I'll tell Madelaine to let the people in, then.'' She gave you a smile, then walked away.

*

After having dinner with Enid and Wednesday, you returned to your hotel. On the walk there, your heart jumped in your chest when you saw a tall man with his hair tied into a bun waiting to cross the street. Your mind immediately made the connection, the piece of paper in your picked feeling suddenly heavier.

According to Wednesday, Xavier lived in New York. He bought a loft somewhere in Greenwich Village and displays his paintings in a gallery. She and Enid had attended his last exposition a few months back.

It made you happy to know his paintings were displayed in a gallery. You always knew he was talented and could make a living off his art. You wondered what his paintings looked like. He must have improved since high school. Was he still using his nightmares as inspiration? Had he moved on to a more abstract style? Did he still have that painting of you?

Your questions remained unanswered, having reached your hotel.

Eleanor must have come into your room after the signing because the black dahlias were placed on the table along with the few small gifts you had received from your readers. You removed your coat and walked up to the flowers, a feeling of nostalgia filling your heart.

The first time Xavier got you black dahlias was on Valentine's day. While everyone got their significant other roses, he got you a black dahlia. The special attention had touched you. You had only mentioned once that they were your favorite. It was at his shed and he was painting. You thought he wasn't listening to you, but he was. He always listened.

You gave one last lingering glance to the black dahlias on the table, then called your mother through your crystal ball. A phone would have been more practical, but you weren't a big fan of technology.

Shortly after summoning her, Morticia appeared through the crystal ball. ''You look tormented, my little stormcloud.''

You couldn't hide anything from her.

Before you told her anything, she noticed the flowers behind you and immediately understood the provenance of your torments. Fortunately for you, heart matters were Morticia's favorite. She had a preference for those involving cursing a lover who did you wrong, but she was still very pleased to be of help.

''What's stopping you from reaching out to him?''

Flashes of Xavier's teary eyes haunted your thoughts as guilt and regret filled your guts. ''I broke his heart, Mother. I cannot show up at his apartment.''

''If he is the love of your life, why not give it a shot? Love makes us forgive the heaviest mistakes, my darling.'' Morticia paused, thinking about her own past mistakes. ''Besides, he sent you flowers, didn't he?''

*

The cab ride to Greenwich village felt interminable. You almost told the chauffeur to turn around fifteen times, but when would you be in New York again? This was your chance.

The car stopped in front of Xavier's building. It was tall and most lights were out. Maybe he was asleep? Xavier has always been a night owl, the chances he was asleep at this hour were very slim.

You paid the driver and took the stairs, your heart hammering behind your chest as you got closer to Xavier's door. You paused before knocking, deciding to use the secret knock you and Xavier used at Nevermore when sneaking in each other's dorms. It's been a few years, but you hoped he remembered.

The door opened and you momentarily forgot how to breathe. His green eyes looked down at you and an army of spiders swarmed your stomach, making you feel like a teenage girl.

Xavier stepped back to let you inside, then closed the door, plunging you in the silence of the apartment.

''You don't seem surprised to see me.''

He casted his eyes down and shook his head gently. ''I had a dream about you last night,'' Xavier explained, shifting his gaze back to you. ''You were here, standing by the large window of my apartment, looking absolutely stunning by the moonglow.''

You crossed the large room, your shoes clicking on the wood floors, and stood by the window adorning the street, trying to recreate Xavier's dream picture-perfectly. ''Like this?''

A soft smile spread on your old flame's face.

''I didn't know if it was my mind playing and trying to hurt me or if it was premonitory,'' he said as he walked over to you, his pace slow and calculated.

The moonglow hit his face, making his beautiful eyes glisten.

You wanted to kiss him.

Shaking that thought from your head, you cleared your throat. ''Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful.''

''I saw a poster with your face at the bookstore last week saying you would be having a signing. I wanted to come, but I didn't know if you would have wanted to see me...'' He got closer to the window, watching the city under.

''I always want to see you, Xavier.''

He scoffed, an ache in his heart. ''That's not what you said a few years ago.'' The wound was old, but it had never healed completely.

Guilt and regret swarmed your guts. You wanted to apologize, but no 'sorry' would be enough to amount how much you regretted those words. You had lied to him, right to his face, that night. You had watched his green eyes fill with tears as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

''Would you have thought of me today had I not sent you flowers?''

''Yes,'' you replied with no hesitation. ''Just because I'm a published writer doesn't mean I've forgotten about my past — our past.''

Shaking off the flashes of the past, Xavier blinked back his tears and tightened his jaw to camouflage his emotions. ''Why are you here, Y/N?''

The question was simple, yet you didn't know what to answer. You couldn't exactly blurt out 'because I still love you'. Although it was the truth, you knew this would not work with Xavier. You broke his heart and if you wanted him to let you have it again, you'll have to mend the pieces.

''I want to fix the past.'’

It was naive and silly to say, but you couldn't find anything better.

You continued. ‘’When we’re young, we think we know everything — we don’t. Decisions we think are right at the time sometimes are not and we only realize so when we grow up. I made a tremendous mistake when ending things with you, Xavier. I’m genuinely so sorry for all the hurt I inflicted upon you that night and all the ones that followed.’’

Xavier glanced at you for half a second, then looked away again.

‘’I wish I could say I wish I never pushed you away, but I can’t. If I hadn’t, I would never have realized how important you are to me. How I miss the deep connection we shared, the way we understood each other without words and having someone to share my greatest achievements with. I miss our late nights together, me writing or reading and you painting. I miss Sunday mornings at your dorm and seeing your sleepyhead beside me—’’

‘’Just because you miss these moments doesn’t mean anything. We all miss things from the past, it’s called nostalgia.’’

‘’I know what nostalgia is, and this ain’t it!’’

Frustration was beginning to build inside you and you were starting to think you were fighting for a love that was too far gone. A flame that had been killed and would never ignite again.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away.

‘’Back then, I believed my career was the most important thing. I thought if I made it and became a writer, I would feel fulfilled, but all this time I’ve been away from you made me realize that love is important too. What’s the point of living my dream if the person I want to share it with is not there by my side?’’

When you got the email from a publishing house saying they loved your novel and wanted to publish it, Xavier was the first person you wanted to call and tell your big news to. Your finger had hovered over his name on your phone for several minutes.

Instead, you had called your mother.

‘’When you're young, we make mistakes we thought were right at the time. When you grow up, you realize and come back to what you need. We’ve accepted that our lives grew apart, but what if I don't want our lives to grow apart? What if I want them to meet in the middle?’’

‘’Do you know how different our lives are, Y/N? I live in New York and you…I don’t know where you’re currently living. How are they supposed to meet in the middle?’’

‘’We make them meet in the middle,’’ you answered simply.

‘’We’ve tried that before.’’ Xavier scoffed, shifting his body toward the window. He could see your reflection in the glass, but tried to ignore it and focus on the street below. ‘’It didn’t work.’’

‘’We didn’t try hard enough.’’

The room was filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty as your words were left pending. Xavier's skepticism was evident, his doubts stemming from the geographical distance that seemed to separate your lives and the flashes of the past. A part of him wanted to jump in and take a chance, but another reminded him of the tough heartbreak he went through when you broke up.

‘’I’m ready to give my all into this relationship, if you’re willing to give us another chance. New Jersey is not that far from New York. I…I could move here! I have a computer now, we could video-call. Or you could come spend a few days at the Addams manor?’’

Xavier turned his gaze from the window to meet your eyes. Like your sister, you had always been reluctant to submit to technology. He was surprised that you owned a computer. ‘’It’s called Facetime.’’

You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’What?’’

Xavier couldn't help but chuckle at your response. ‘’Video-calling,’’ he mocked. ‘’It’s called Facetime.’’

Right. Facetime. Enid had told you many times.

You rolled your eyes. ‘’Excuse me for not being a slave to technology for as long as you,’’ you retorted, turning the teasing around.

Accepting defeat, Xavier then shifted back to seriousness. ‘’You really think we can do this?’’ he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

You took a few strides toward him, raising your eyes to meet his. ‘’If we put our hearts in it.’’ You took his hand in yours, holding it with both hands.

A moment of silence enveloped the room as your words hung in the air. You were trying to be optimistic, but the longer the silence was getting, the less optimistic you were. He was going to push you away...

His green eyes shifted from your hands, distracting himself with the dainty rings on your fingers. You still had the one he gave you for your fifteenth birthday. You were just friends back then, so it didn’t have anything romantic tied to it.

‘’Okay.’’ He covered your hands with his other one, making you look up at him.

‘’Okay?’’ you repeated, making sure you had heard correctly.

Xavier nodded. ‘’Just…don’t break my heart again. Please.’’

You couldn't make that promise. ''I'll try,'' you said instead. ‘’And if you break mine?’’

‘’We’ll say we’re even.’’

—

Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n  @poppet05  @ell0ra-br3kk3r

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#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe x addams!reader

[puuta-heinaa]

Joker Out, Paris (Café de la danse) 22.3.2024

I arrived at the venue around 14ish, and was third to last in the EE queue. However queueing is part of the party! I exchanged sooo many bracelets and met amazing people, some of which I just met that day, some I knew from Discord or tumblr or earlier gigs, couldn't have been happier. Got selfies with Bojan and Jan?? Hug from Bojan??? HELLO. That would never happen in Finland. I described his hug as jämäkkä and turvallinen, which roughly translates to sturdy and safe.

Some of the bracelets I made for the concert!

Met someone in the queue who had hawk's eyes and who encouraged me to go and ask for a selfie with Jan, and later on she spotted Bojan on the street 100 m before everyone else did. I had a chance to give Bojan 3 2 ananaslonkero -bracelet that I'd made, with a tiny drink charm. If the main joke in fandoms is that a hug from your blorbo would cure you? well it's true. Getting a hug from Bojan removed some stiffness between my shoulder blades that I didn't even know was there. It was literally easier to breathe after the encounter. I also kept vigorously shaking for 3-5 minutes afterwards, so much that some people asked if I'm ok. Just released years worth of trauma ig. Also LOTS of happy hand stims throughout the day, my autism was showing lol.

Jan was outdoors SMOKING!!! And Bojan had charmingly dirty hair! He was taller than I had thought.

ANYways the gig !! I ended up on Jance side, which was nice as I was on Kris' side in Helsinki. Whole stage was about as wide as K-18 section at Kultsa, and I think they suit better on smaller stages.

We got Vem da Gres and Gola in soundcheck! I was wearing Vem da gres -bracelet that I got in Helsinki a few weeks ago and thought about that person for a few seconds!

Gola was ok. Bojan got disney mickey ears, and he was wearing my 3 2 ananaslonkero bracelet. Bojan also got a maca plushie that he was NOT scared of, he even made it fly.

Kris left the stage as soon as the last notes of Gola were over, other boys stayed jamming in accelerating speed for couple of more minutes. I showed them my UM sign that only read "I want to sing UMAZAN" at that point. :')

20h02 was ok, didn't connect with their music at all though. JC Stewart seemed a bit sick, but sounded good nevertheless. Finished my sign.

They started with Katrina and Bele Sanje, and people were singing even guitar riffs along. Dopamin hit like dopamine followed by Ne bi smel, Nace was staring at me several times during those songs.

Liinu's superb edit of staring sc Nace and struggling Kris and Arcti's edit about Jan's forgotten library books made my day

People were already singing along to Sta bih ja, and Bojan was sooo happy (and sweaty. We were all very sweaty, the concert hall was ridiculously warm.). Kris disappeared for a moment in the beginning of Sta bih ja, and Bojan looked like a lost puppy (wait, where is kris?? about 5-10 seconds into sta bih ja). Bojan said Kris didn't like how Jan played the riff and that's why he left the stage :P. Jan flipped a bird to him.

Decibels raised by about 20 when they played Ona and Demoni. Turns out they might be the easiest to sing along for absolutely everyone, not just for people who speak Finnish. Bojan looked me directly into eyes during second verse of Demoni for several seconds, and I felt so seen (in a good way). EE was definitely worth its price.

In Helsinki I felt like the setlist was over before it even started, but in Paris it felt more like we were really dancing and playing until the stars fade. I think it had something to do with how much they interacted with each other and with the public during each song. In Helsinki they seemed like they had forgotten how to be on stage, and there was just TOO MUCH SPACE, whereas Paris had Nordic Tour energy.

They all moved a LOT on stage!! Kris was on jance side several times! Nace had a mating dance thingy going on with Kris at least twice, Jan once. Jan interacted with the public on Kris's side a few times. Bojan almost run into Kris at one point - no wonder he caressed Kris's arm to let him know he's there before grapping his hips?? and dancing behind him??? during Behind those eyes. It's cafe de la danse after all.

Def thinking "THIS is how we'll trend on tumblr tonight" right after the famous dance

Everybody's waiting and soooooo many people raised hands when Bojan asked in his spiel before the song if anyone here suffers from panic or anxiety attacks, and I think it made everyone feel less alone. He sang I'm the problem it's me -line to make things a bit lighter before proceeding to the song.

We got Omamljeno Telo and I felt SOOOO HAPPY (but also sad for Moonu) but also SOOOO HAPPY it was on the setlist, I think I screamed VITTU JES on top of my lungs (manifesting it for Ruisrock huh). Famous water spray on Jan during OT, and it shows I've grown old, because instead of "yeeeess I want Bojan's spit on me" I went "rat disease, why am I not wearing a mask".

Everyone sang along during CD, not in French though even if there was a fanproject French translation published a whole 28 hours before(....). Plastika hit like a hammer once again, but I think I was already waiting and stressing for UM, so I didn't mosh for example. Which, good idea, because my neck was soooo sore after Helsinki.

Bojan announced the karaoke song, and asked which versions we have today. He saw my sign, asked "Slovenian version?", to which I "said" (from 4th row on Jan+Nace side) Finnish version, and he heard it and corrected himself and said perfect. I was not afraid at all even if I knew I'm probs going to sing in front of about 500 people in 5ish minutes???? How??? I'm usually a ball of anxiety but here I was just proud and excited to sing my version of it.

I loved the Bretogne/French version (I've still no idea what were the words, but it rhymed super well and she sang well, but that was def NOT paris region French), cringed at some of the "translations" because they did not fit the lines and did not rhyme, sang along to Slovenian versions in Finnish, felt bad for one of them as the karaoke singer started at the wrong moment and Bojan spent most of their special moment trying to orchestrate the band.

When Bojan approached with "I think we still have a Slovenian version, OH NO, A FINNISH VERSION" I chortled, and felt the last bits of nervousness disappear. (Cue "some boat, titanic, oh no".) I had my ACTUALLY finger pointing moment, which, on point with my personality, telling him it's a hybrid version. I don't know what he meant with SUOMI SAA, but it was NOT full-on Suomi SAATANA, that much is certain. I quite like the idea/interpretation he was making a pun with SAA(tan)Are you ready? But who knows. Sad about missed chance to answer "ArE YoU???" now that I think about it, but at least I wasn't the only one who failed the moment :') . Speaking of cursewords though, a histronic youngster next to me did shout vittu though! I loved my spot but she was super annoying throughout the evening.

The Finnish version is in the beginning of this one, and the Arabic version right after Finnish version is AMAZING. The French version is on the first part, as well as Bojan going "uuu Finnish version? perfect".

Started in Slovene, which made him have a Ok?? face, but when I switched to my own Finnish version that rhymes with the Slovene version, he raised his brows and seemed so impressed that I just nodded to him, sending telepath(et)ic messages that yes, our languages match and rhyme, about time you collaborate with Jere. I think he remembered I asked for a hug in the afternoon, because he did not hug everyone during karaoke. Afternoon hug was better btw.

I love his little surprised smile right when I finish the first Finnish line on this one

I usually think quite a lot about how other people perceive me, but now I didn't give a single fuck, just enjoyed being the main character for 20 seconds, having this interaction with my blorbo. Forever grateful for the 4 different angles I received from friends I made in the queue, and 1 from a random guy who asked me after the concert if I'd like to receive a video he took of me singing. Even Vita was filming the whole thing with her big light + camera + phone ensemble. I often sing in my car, and even IMAGINING i'm singing karaoke makes my voice suddenly tiny and weak and compressed, so I'm overflowingly glad it went this well, you have no idea even if I've just bragged about it for 4 paragraphs.

I later realised I was the only one who didn't hold the mic themself, this is a clear example how I objectify the boys, seeing Bojan just as a mic stand.🫣😵‍💫

I got fluent Kiitos from Bojan, that guy needs to move to Finland he speaks Finnish so well. Also LMAO I forgot to sniff him in the afternoon, now I'm praying the snifff I took after karaoke wasn't too evident and doesn't show on Vita's video……….. Jere is wrong, Bojan does not smell like shit, but there were no parfume smell either? He just smells like nothing in a pleasant, pheromone rich way lol.

my translation: Sanje so tvojega okusa Aamuihin taas tuoksusi Neula ei haarukassa Sieluni on hukassa Etsimässä tietään luoksesi

I haven't figured how to translate the first line. I've been playing with "Makus' on tarrannut uniini", but it does not rhyme with the og well enough. Otherwise super proud of my version. Neula and haarukka are parts of compass, basically saying the compass is layed on the map the wrong way. 🧭

This is how small the place was??? I was in 3/4th row, and the hat guy in the right corner was right behind me during the concert so the club truly was tiny.

Apparently bubbles were not allowed on stage in Cafe de la danse? But some people had brought their own so we had bubbles anyway.

Jure exchanged his drumstick to a breadstick. I laughed because a) it was a clever pun and b) such a stereotypically French thing to bring a BAGUETTE wrapped in a napkin to a concert. Also no wonder boys are always sick, I don't even want to know how many people touched that bread before it was on stage.

Life is pain (in mouths)

We waited for the boys after the concert outside the venue in the rain, and they walked past quite quickly. Bojan stayed for 30 seconds to take a group selfie. <3

Honestly so happy I traveled there and met amazing people and surpassed myself on so many levels.

I feel like 2004 again, because that's when I last made a post this long on livejournal and also when I last was this hyped about a group.

I loved band's AMAZING OUTFITS in Café de la danse, everyone had some idrija lace on them, and I'm afraid my next special interest will be bobbin lace.

#joker out #cafe de la danse #my concerts #sys tour #umazane misli #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #nace jordan #jan peteh #jure maček #metrijormaus