#I’ll say I don’t have anymore sets in me but we’ll see where the week takes me

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jijidraws

Jiji Knight is a latina pinup illustrator. Her work is overall geared toward thick ladies and dedicated to fat positivity out of a purely selfish need to create art she wished she had seen growing up. She often features sexy and soft macabre themes on vibrant or sweet colours and takes great joy in making folx feel good about themselves with her work. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration and operates out of her very sunny hometown of Las Vegas.

Check out our interview with Jiji below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh my gosh… I have art blocks all the time. My favorite way of overcoming it is by making fanart. Funnily enough, that’s something I don’t do in my own work anymore. But there are still IPs I return to that still bring joy to my heart. I love returning to drawing Sailor Moon like when I was in first grade. Or I’ll even look up the last fashion week and start drawing the fashion week outfits from the Paris or New York show. Stuff like that is what gets my creative juices flowing.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Resin. Resin art is so stunning. People make the most amazing and beautiful sculptures using resin, and I don’t think I could ever bring myself to play with something so complicated. There are a lot of ways to cure it, and sometimes, it doesn’t cure properly…I already work with enough chaos as it is! I respect resin artists, but I don’t think I would ever touch it. I’ve admired it from a distance. There is an artist I follow who does these resin layer paintings. So they’ll paint a layer of resin, then cure it, and paint on top of the cured layer. They build up these amazing paintings using resin…I could never. Maybe one day!

What is one interaction you had with a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I still remember…It was my first and only Flame Con in New York. I had a fan come up to my booth. They didn’t say hello or that it was nice to meet me. They started to cry! They cried, and the first words out of their mouth were, “I’ve never seen myself in artwork before.” So, of course, I started to cry! So we were just crying across the table at each other. It was just one of the sweetest interactions, and it really sticks with me still to this day.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

My latest collaboration with the artist Missupacey. We’ve been collaborating for two years now, and our last collaboration was for Midsummer Scream. It was two very cute clown girls, and I designed our T-shirt. It was one of the most fun projects we’ve done in a long time. We love doing collaborative work because it keeps working in the art industry fresh—being able to bounce ideas back and forth. So we do it where someone picks the color palette, and someone picks a theme. We’ll get references together, put them on a big board, and send each other sketches. It’s really nice to work with somebody else.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Honestly, it changed everything. I mean, I used to draw for myself a lot. And while I still do that, I now predominantly draw for my Patrons. For a while, I was drawing for the internet. So I was drawing stuff people wanted to see in terms of plus-sized versions of characters—a plus-sized Poison Ivy or a plus-sized Sailor Moon. My Patrons have allowed me to start drawing for myself again. But technology, for a while, essentially dominated what direction I was taking with my art, so I’m grateful to take some of that power back.

If there is one thing that you want art enthusiasts to remember you by, what would it be?

Body positivity. I would love for them to remember that there is an artist making work that is making people feel good about themselves and about the way they look at themselves.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Have a method of taking money, have a method of displaying your work, and have a way to take a break. I have a plastic picnic cover that costs like a dollar at any store. All I have to do is clip it to my display grates, and it covers up my entire display. I feel secure enough to take time for myself in a 10-hour workday to eat something, go to the restroom, or even take a moment to breathe and reorganize my inventory. So it’s so funny that this one-dollar piece of plastic is like the most life-saving item in my display of items.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@mayakern comes to mind. She is another body-positive artist who expanded into making body-positive clothing. She’s amazing, and just to see someone else out there promoting body positivity. Maya’s been doing it longer than I have, I believe. It feels good to know that I’m not alone. Her work is always stunning, and I love her body-positive DnD characters and the fact that she’s still plowing through the clothing industry. For example, she’s expanded from skirts to button-downs and even custom-wrap shirts. I love to see what she’s doing, and it inspires me to pursue different avenues with my own work.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Jiji! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jijidraws.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi! i’d love to request a blurb with lip gallagher x northside!reader with prompt 26."You don't want them to hear, do you?" and m. Keeping the relationship a secret

thank you <33

Forbidden Fruit.

college!lip gallagher x northside!female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

You were doing so well.

You got up bright and early, put on the outfit you’d picked out last night, did your hair and makeup all pretty. Ate breakfast, drank a coffee, packed your stuff and set off on your walk.

You were finally going to turn up to your 9am class on time.

And then you bumped into Lip Gallagher.

“Hey, Northside. Where you goin’?”

“To class, Lip. Which is where you should be going. We have a test next week.”

“Eh, I’ll be fine.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing.

“Sure, smartass. I’m gonna be late. See you around.”

“Tonight?”

You take a deep breath.

“No. I told you last week was the last time, Gallagher. I’m not doing it anymore.”

Lip gives you the look. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Your breathing picks up, chest heaving as you refuse to break eye contact. You won’t let him win.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Now, he’s got you pressed up against the door of a tiny storage room on campus, one hand covering your mouth and the other one with two fingers curled inside you.

“Shh, baby. You don’t want them to hear, do you? Their Northside angel, getting fingered in a janitors closet…” he clicks his tongue. “What would they say, hmm?

All you can do is whine and keen, squirming against him. His body is pressing yours into the cold wood, face smushed against the door. His fingers keep up their rhythm, thumb pressing against your clit in firm circles. You can hear how wet you are, and it would be embarrassing if you weren’t so turned on.

“Please, Lip.”

“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg for it. Whore.”

He says it so affectionately, pressing a kiss into your temple.

“You’re almost there, huh?”

You nod frantically, grinding your hips down into his fingers. The hand that was covering your mouth moves to rest on your throat, squeezing gently.

“Come on, baby. Let it go for me.”

“Atta girl, that’s it.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Make a mess for me, you got it.”

“There we go. Good girl. You look so pretty when you come, angel.”

You come so hard you see stars, squeezing his fingers like a vice. He talks you through it, low, murmured words spoken right into your ear.

You relax, going loose against the door. Lip holds you up, both arms around your waist. Turning in his hold, you lean up to kiss him, groaning when he slips his tongue into your mouth.

“Take me home, Lip. Want you to fuck me.”

He chuckles, pressing his lips into your neck.

“What about class? Thought we had a test next week.”

“We’ll be fine,” you wink, linking your fingers with his and dragging him down the hallway.

[moonstruckme]

Just Remus Lupin who has a crybaby girlfriend that overthinks everything.

Thanks for requesting!

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 872 words

You knock on the door, and Remus reminds himself for the third time this week that he really needs to get you a copy of the key. He groans, rolling his neck as he stands from the reading position that had gotten uncomfortable at some point while he wasn’t paying attention, an apology on the tip of his tongue as he opens the door. 

“Sorry, dove, I keep forgetting—hey.” You’re biting down on your bottom lip, face red and eyes glassy. “Sweetheart,” the endearment comes out slow and heavy-hearted, “what’s happened?” 

It’s like you were waiting for permission. You crumple, mouth twisting awfully as a quiet whine tears from the back of your throat. Remus coos, stepping outside to wrap you up in his arms. You’re ready for him, and your arms come around his neck, your sniffles wet and pitiful next to his ear. 

“I thought you were just meeting up with Marcy,” he murmurs, a question embedded in the statement. 

“I was,” you choke out. “She’s mad at me.” 

Remus’ heart contracts painfully. He pets the back of your head. “Come here, love, come inside.” He starts walking backwards in the door, and you follow. “Do you want a cup of tea?” 

“No thank you,” you warble. 

He closes the door behind you, guiding you into a seat at the table. “I’ll make us hot chocolate, then.” 

This is somewhat routine. You’re a sensitive thing, with a delicate spirit. You feel what others feel keenly, and it’s not rare for small things throughout your day to work you into a tizzy for reasons Remus can’t always wrap his head around. A warm drink usually helps. 

“So,” he says cautiously, the gurgling of the kettle cutting through the quiet of his flat, “did you and Marcy have a fight?” 

You shake your head, sniffling. Remus makes a mental note to bring you some tissues. “No, I don’t think so.” Your voice is weak and broken up by little breaths as you try to calm yourself. “She just—” Your lip wobbles, and you bite down on it cruelly. “I could tell she was irritated with me,” you say miserably. 

Remus feels his brow pinch in sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What did she say?” 

“It’s not—she wasn’t mean.” You palm some wetness away from your cheeks. “It was just her tone.” 

He hums, mixing the hot chocolate in two mugs. “What was her tone like?” 

You shake your head, more tears slipping past your lashes. “She just seemed so annoyed with me,” you weep, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sounds. “I think I talked for too long.” 

“Wait, dove,” Remus tucks a box of tissues under his arm as he brings over the mugs, setting yours in front of you, “you think she was cross with you because you talked too much?” 

You nod heartbrokenly, reaching for the tissues. “I was telling a story, and I could tell by the end that she was getting irritated so I stopped, but then when I asked if she was free to hang out again next week—” you hiccup out a tiny sob “—she just said ‘we’ll see’.” 

“Darling,” there’s a bit of relieved laughter in Remus’ tone, but you look up at him, crestfallen, and he shoves it right back down where it belongs, “I don’t know if she was quite so upset as you think, sweetheart. Maybe she just said that because she wasn’t sure if she’d be free next week.” 

You shake your head, sniffling. “Rem, you weren’t there. She looked so—so done with me.” A fresh wave of tears falls, and Remus decides to take matters into his own hands, leaning across the table to thumb them away. You lean into his touch, love-deprived. “I don’t think she’s going to want to be friends anymore,” you barely murmur. Your tone is heavy with resignation. 

Remus makes a soft, pitying sound. “I’m sure she still wants to be friends,” he says quietly, stroking at your damp cheek. “Even if she was upset, I doubt it’s enough that—”

Your phone chimes, and he goes quiet, both your eyes flying to where it sits face-down on the table. 

“Who is it?” 

You turn it over, an exhale rattling out of you. “It’s Marcy.” 

Remus retracts his hand, picking up his hot chocolate to take a sip. “And what did she say?” he asks, already smug. 

Your face is tensed with anxiety as you open the message, but then it slackens. “She wants…she’s free to meet up again on Tuesday.” 

Remus doesn’t try to suppress his grin. He shakes his head at you, taking a long, satisfied sip of his hot chocolate. “What did I tell you?” 

“I…I’m sorry,” you say slowly, clearly struggling to switch gears. He doesn’t rush you, half enjoying his front-row seat to your realization. “I thought…wow.” You sniffle, looking at Remus through your lashes, sheepish. “I’m sorry I came home and ugly cried to you. I thought she was really upset.” 

He chuckles, reaching across the table to thumb a residual tear from your jaw. “That’s alright, dove. And you don’t ugly cry.” He chucks you gently under the chin. “You could never be capable of ugliness.” 

[guiltypleasurecreative]

Best Friend Vacation

Best friends Harry and Y/N have been the best of friends for nearly a decade. They’re such close friends they take an annual vacation together, just the two of them. This trip, however, may just be the one that changes things.

Contents: Explicit depictions of sex, fluff

6.6k words

“Oh, my goodness. Harry! This is so nice!”

“Yeah, I think this is the nicest one yet.” Harry set the luggage just inside the door of the cabin you rented for the week. It had been a long drive, but it was still early afternoon—plenty of time to relax and enjoy the day.

You couldn’t say anymore who’s idea it was, but for the last five or six years you and Harry have taken a friends vacation together. One year, you invited some mutual friends, and it wasn’t as fun or relaxing, so you stuck to just the two of you. Things were so much better this way.

After nearly nine years of friendship, you two were super close. You two hung out most weekends and recently had spent many weeks planning this trip to a forested mountainous town close enough to the coast that you could smell the salty ocean air.

“Which room do you want, Harry?”

“I wake up earlier than you, so I want the one with the view. I want my morning tea with a view.”

“I can enjoy the same view when I wake at noon.”

“I’m calling it, Y/N,” he smiled at you and picked up your bags, setting them into the other room – the one without a view, apparently. “Look! Yours has an en suite with a big bathtub.”

You walked further into the room and saw there was a large claw foot tub. “Wow, I don’t remember this on the listing.”

“Me either. Maybe its new and they just haven’t updated the listing yet?”

He turned around to face you, but you only shrugged.

“Let’s put the groceries away, and we’ll figure out what to see first. Maybe we just hang out here and jump in the jacuzzi?”

“Are you hungry?” Harry asked as you entered the house. You’d spent the afternoon in the jacuzzi with a bottle of Moscato. When the bottle was empty you and Harry decided it was time to go inside.

“Getting there.”

“Let’s get cleaned up then I’ll make dinner?”

“Sounds good.”

When you got out of the shower you heard the sound of chopping coming from the kitchen.

“Hey.” Harry greeted you while chopping heirloom tomatoes. “I thought we could have something light. We have burrata and pesto so I’m making a nice tomato salad. I’ve got some garlic bread in the oven.

“That sounds lovely. What can I do?” You took the towel from your hair and draped it over a chair at the kitchen counter.

“Nothing. Go pick a movie.” He smiled as he mixed the tomatoes in with the pesto then seasoned it with salt and pepper.

“What do you feel like watching?” You walked to the living room and turned on the giant television.

“Whatever. What about that movie you were telling me about on the drive up?”

Harry put the burrata in the center of a serving plate and the tomatoes around it. Harry always had a knack when it came to making food look as good as it tasted. On another plate he piled the garlic bread then took it out to the living room where you sat on the couch, remote control in hand.

“Can you grab us some drinks?” Harry asked as the plates on the coffee table. He looked up and saw that you had on a very tiny pair of pajama shorts.

“Of course. Beer okay?”

“Y/N, didn’t you pack any pants? You’re not even wearing socks!”

“I was hot after my shower!”

“Yeah, but as soon as you sit down, you’re gonna get cold. And what are you gonna do? You’re going to tuck your cold ass feet under me!”

“But you’re always so warm!”

“Y/N...get socks at least.” Harry was behind you in the kitchen now grabbing two small plates and utensils.

“Yes, dad.” You smirked, knowing you were annoying him.

“Fine, don’t listen. But you can’t tuck your cold feet under me and I’m not letting you warm up your fingers on me either.”

“Just grab me a blanket if you’re so worried, damn.”

Harry smacked your ass then called you a brat under his breath.

“Bastard! I almost dropped the bottles!” Harry only turned around and winked at you in response.

Harry sat on the couch. When you sat down, he handed you a plate then served you.

“This was a good idea, Har. Something nice and light after all that crap we ate for lunch.”

“Actually, I wanted something lighter because I want ice cream with all the toppings later.”

You rolled your eyes and pressed play on the movie.

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence.

“Pause it for me please? I’m going to put the leftovers away.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks. And get some socks! It still gets chilly at night.” He smacked your ass again as you got up from the couch.

“Are you going to bitch at me every night? We are never taking a vacation in the Spring again. Summer only.”

“Then I’ll just bitch at you about staying hydrated in the heat.” He smiled up at you as he laid down on the couch.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m your best friend. You know you love me! Hurry up, the plot was just getting good.”

You put the leftovers away then went to your room to grab socks out of your luggage. When you returned to the living room you sat down by Harry’s head and made a big show of putting on your socks.

Harry smiled and gave your thigh a light squeeze. “Thank you.”

The movie was pretty good, not what you had expected, but it was enjoyable. When it was over you stood up and stretched, looking down at Harry.

“I think I’m going to bed. You want me to get you some ice cream before I go?”

“Nah, I don’t really feel like it anymore. I think I’ll go read my book. Thanks.” Harry stretched before standing up, too.

“Alright. Good night, Har.”

“Night. Sleep well.” He kissed you on the top of your head and squeezed your shoulder before walking to his room.

When you reached your room, you took your time washing up then climbed in bed. You scrolled your phone for a bit, but you couldn’t quite relax. Thankfully, you brought your toy with you.

You got out of bed and looked for it in your luggage. Quickly, you realized it wasn’t in that particular bag, so you searched your other bag, but had no luck. In frustration you flipped on the bedside light and dumped both bags onto the bed.

A few minutes later you were folding your clothes and putting them back in your luggage, defeated. A knock on your door startled you.

“Y/N?”

“Come in.”

“Everything okay? I got up and saw your light was on.” Harry was dressed in sleeping pants with a matching unbuttoned shirt. He had obviously just thrown it on just to leave his bedroom.

“I forgot my vibrator,” you sighed.

Harry chuckled. “Oh, no. A sexually frustrated Y/N is no fun at all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go to bed, Harry.”

He sat down on the bed, watching you put your things back into your bag. “Oh, come on. Don’t get all bent out of shape. You still have hands.”

You stopped what you were doing just to smack Harry in the arm. “You think if that worked for me, I’d be upset right now?”

“What? So it won’t feel as nice. It’ll still take the edge off.”

You put your bags away and flopped on the bed next to Harry. “No, like, I can’t get there at all without help. Trying just makes me more frustrated.”

After a moment of silence, you reached over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. “You staying or going? I’m just going to go to sleep.” You didn’t wait for an answer before you settled under the covers again and prepared to sleep.

“Would you like my help?”

With a hearty laugh you swiped your hand down Harry’s face. “Close your eyes and go to sleep Harry.”

“No, I’m serious. Thinking about your toy got me all worked up, too.” You didn’t respond so he continued. “My hand isn’t as fun either. Why don’t we help each other out?”

Is he for real?

“Harry, did the heat from the jacuzzi get to your head?” You chuckled and reached out for his hand and closed your eyes again.

“No, but all my blood is rushing south. Maybe that’s it.”

You opened your eyes again and looked down at his pants. The room was dark, but you could still see he wasn’t lying. He was sporting a bit of a hard on and you let out a breathy laugh. “You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know that?”

“Mmm. Night, Y/N.”

Harry said good night but made no move to go back to his bed. You two had slept together on who knows how many occasions. It was never a big deal, but tonight felt different. You had never fallen asleep next to him while he had a hard on. Or at least not that you knew of.

The two of you laid together quietly before you spoke up. “Okay. Let’s help each other out. I’m not gonna sleep in this state. You can’t be too comfortable either.”

“Y/N?”

“Oh, come on. You make the suggestion then get shy on me? Besides, we’ve seen each other naked before.”

“You’ve seen me because you never knock anymore, but I don’t recall ever seeing you,” he said with a laugh.

“Wow, Harry. Thanks. Good to know it was memorable.”

“I’m serious! I don’t remember. When?”

You turned your body to face him, and he did the same.

“You’ve seen my breasts I don’t know how many times!”

“Breasts don’t count! You’ve seen mine too.” Harry laughed again.

“We really lack boundaries, don’t we?” You giggled.

“Nah, I think we’re just comfortable with each other.”

“Maybe,” you laughed, “but breasts count.”

“Breasts do not count,” Harry countered.

“Okay, well, this is your chance to see the rest of me. Are up for it?”

Harry sat in silence for a moment. “I’m game. My situation hasn’t gone away yet.”

You laughed, “I can’t believe we’re gonna do this. We’re so stupid.”

“We’ve been stupider,” Harry answers, causing both of you to laugh harder.

Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to stop his laughter. “So, we’re serious about this?”

“Yeah, why not. We’ve been stupider right?” You smiled at your best friend.

“Like that time we got lost in Rome after letting our cell phones die?” Harry sat up and put his hand on your knee.

“God, that was so dumb. I still don’t know how we managed to find our way back to the hotel.”

The two of you broke out into a fit of laughter again.

“So. Any hard boundaries? Things that you like?”

“Harry, I’m not discussing my kinks with you. We’re just going to scratch this itch and go to bed.”

“Okay, okay. You afraid I’ll judge you if I find out you like your hair pulled?”

You were a little surprised. “How did you know that?”

Harry shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Ugh, you know me too well.” You got comfortable on the bed and Harry moved to stand on his knees between your legs. He rested his hands on your knees.

“That I do, but I still don’t know where you draw the line.”

“Uhhh. I like dirty talk, but nothing degrading. Nothing rough. I don’t like pain.”

“I could have guessed that,” Harry chuckled.

“What about you? Any no-goes?”

“No, I’ve always really enjoyed wherever the act takes me,” he laughed.

“You’re such a man,” you joked.

Harry shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt. “Do you…want me to play with you?”

“That feels a bit too intimate, don’t you think?”

“More intimate than sex? Not really. And unless you want to start this with no warmup all dr—”

“Okay. Uh, you could…you could touch me?”

“Sure.” He kissed your forehead and moved from between your legs to lay down beside you. He looked in your eyes as he rested his head on your pillow. He rubbed your stomach, just below your navel. When he moved his hand in gentle circles, his fingers grazing the waistband of your shorts.

“Wanna take these off?” His voice was soft and quiet.

“Yeah.” You looked down at your waist where Harry’s hands still laid. You lifted your hips to take off your shorts and underwear.

Harry groaned and looked back up at your face. “Can I go lower?”

You nodded, not saying a word. He slid his hands lower, barely grazing over your clit on his way to run his fingers between your folds. Your mouth fell open with a sharp intake of breath. His face mirrored yours, clearly drunk on your pleasure.

He played with you for a bit as both of you watched his fingers dip low to gather your arousal and bring it to your clit. He felt amazing. You closed your eyes and focused on your growing pleasure.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?” You opened your eyes and focused on his face. You could see his arm flexing out of the corner of your eye and it was driving you mad.

“It’s getting painful.” He chuckled uncomfortably.

“Fuck! Sorry!” You got up on your knees, forcing Harry to pull his hand away. “Lie back.”

Harry laid on his back and tucked an arm under his head, watching you.

“Can I take these off?” You kneeled between his legs with both hands on his pants.

“’Course.” He lifted his hips to help you take off his pajama pants. You tugged his pants all the way off of his legs. When you looked back up at him, he had his fingers pressed to his face. “You smell really good.”

You shuddered. It was always such a turn on when a partner enjoyed the smell of you. Without taking his eyes away from you he licked his fingers.

You let out a moan. “Really?”

“It’s a huge turn on for me.” Harry had a broad grin on his face.

“Me too. Never thought we’d know that about each other.”

Harry laughed, prompting you to laugh, too. When you felt a throbbing in your core you decided to get serious.

“Spit.” You held your hand out to his mouth. Harry furrowed his brows. “I mean, unless you like it dry.”

Without taking his eyes away from yours he sat up and spit in your hand. Jesus, that was hot. You brought your hand to the tip off his penis and began to rub him. Your other hand went between your legs to rub yourself. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and his head fell back on the pillow. When he began to feel dry again you switched hands, bringing the hand covered in your arousal up to his dick.

Harry groaned loudly. “That is the hottest thing anyone’s ever done for me in bed.”

You smiled and hung your head. The feel of Harry’s dick in your hands was such a turn on and you could feel yourself getting closer to your release. You loved it when your partner moaned in bed, it was probably the sexiest thing a man could do in bed. Every sound that fell from Harry’s lips spurred you on.

“Ah—sh—it’s getting dry again.” Harry sat up on his elbows.

You nodded without a word and switched hands again, covering him in more of yourself.

“Y/N, are you still taking the pill?”

Both of your hands stopped moving. “Huh?”

“You’re still on the pill, right?”

“Yes. Yeah.” Your brain was too fuzzy with pleasure to figure out why he was asking.

“So, let’s like, actually do it.”

“Do you want to?” Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You could have come just like this, but you couldn’t turn down intertwining your bodies, feeling full.

“I think that’s pretty obviously a yes. You can feel how hard I am right now.”

You laughed and took your shirt off, just remembering it was still on when the fabric painfully rubbed against your nipples. Harry moaned at the sight of your bare breasts.

“Shit. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“At least you’ll remember seeing me naked now,” you laughed.

“I never forgot! I just said breasts don’t count.” He ran both hands down your sides. “You haven’t answered me yet.”

“Yes.”

“Regularly?”

You laughed remembering all the times he had to remind you to take your pills in the past. That was so long ago now; you had gotten much better at taking them regularly and on time. “Yes.”

“So, what’s stopping us then?” Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Nothing.”

Harry smiled before pressing his lips to yours. He guided you down on to your back and climbed between your legs again. His kisses trailed from your lips, down your neck, then to your chest. You relished the feeling of his lips on you and running your fingers through his hair. Damn, was he good in bed.

“I wanna try something.” Harry was breathing heavily.

“Anything.”

Harry wasted no time bringing his lips to his to your nipple causing you to cry out. He propped himself up on one arm and brought his hand between your legs. His fingers slid into you and his thumb rubbed your clit.

“Ah! Harry, that feels really good.”

“Good.” He pressed another kiss to your chest.

All too soon you felt that familiar tension building then spilling over. You had one of the best orgasms you’ve had in who knows how long.

Harry pulled his fingers from between your legs and brought them to his lips. Once he had sucked his fingers clean, he brought himself to your entrance. “You’re still okay with this?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his body flush against your chest. He easily slid into you, filling you up. Harry pumped his hips, pulling in and out of you slowly while moaning. His breath on your neck was heavenly.

“Y/N, what’s your favorite position? What will make you come again?”

“I don’t know. A partner has never given me two in one go,” you answered.

“Jesus, Y/N. What kind of losers do you sleep with?”

You laughed but before you could even respond Harry had pulled out of you and was flipping you on to your stomach. He pulled your hips up just a bit so he could slide back in. He placed a hand on your ass and pushed you back down flat against the bed. His hand ran from your ass to your shoulder, massaging as he kissed the nape of your neck. With one last kiss he laid his body flat over yours.

“Cross your legs at the ankle and squeeze your legs together.”

You did as you were asked and thought you were going to come again. Your core was so tight he could barely move himself inside you. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he slipped a hand between you and the bed to rub your clit. He continued to press soft kisses to your back as he slowly thrust in and out of you. You could feel how wet you were.

“Y/N, I’m close.”

“Harry, yes. Just use me.”

“No—ah, I need to see my girl’s face when I come. It’s kind of my thing.”

“Lie down,” you commanded.

Harry traded places with you then you grabbed his dick again and lined it up with your center. You sank down on him slowly, enjoying the sight of him coming unraveled.

He held on to your thighs until you placed both your hands over his and brought them to your breasts. “Keep touching me.”

Something about watching your chest rise and fall while you rocked your hips had Harry needing more. He grabbed you by the small of your back and pulled you close to him. He sat up and leveraged the headboard to thrust up into you, his hands back on your hips.

Eventually he felt the need to hold you even closer. He wrapped his arms around your torso and buried his face in your neck. When that wasn’t enough, he placed one hand on your ass helping you to grind into him. He brought his other hand up your spine and grasped the back of your neck.

“Y/N, quick—do I need to pull out?”

He sounded out of breath, and all wound up.

“No, Harry, just come.”

With that something in him snapped. He grabbed your head in both his hands, roughly dragging his thumbs over your lips. “Y/N, look at me.”

You grabbed his face too and held his stare as you felt his warm release spill inside you. He continued thrusting until he was spent, never letting go of your face. When he stilled, he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

He was the first to break the silence. “Well, that was quite something, huh?”

You laughed. “Jesus, Harry. You should just wife me right now because I don’t know how anything would ever feel that good ever again. You’ve ruined men for me so you should take some responsibility.”

Harry laughed that gorgeous full-chested laugh of his then tapped your thigh, indicating he wanted you to get off his lap. “Ah, careful, Y/N.” He was so sensitive over his penis sliding out of you. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and laid down on the bed. You told yourself that in a second you would get up and clean yourself, but for right now, you just needed a minute to catch your breath.

Harry got out of bed and slipped his pants back on. His first stop was to the hall closet for a hand towel. Next, he went to the kitchen and filled two glasses with ice and grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey from the freezer. He turned on the tap in the kitchen sink and waited for the water to warm up. While he waited, he grabbed a bar of dark chocolate, knowing you couldn’t handle straight alcohol without something sweet.

Harry grabbed a serving tray off the counter and loaded everything on it before checking the water temperature. It was warm enough to sting his hand – just the right temperature for you. He soaked the towel thoroughly then wringed it out, trying not to burn himself on the hot water. How you enjoyed water that hot was beyond him.

When he got back to the room you were still in bed.

“Here, take this.” Harry set the tray on the bed and handed you a glass of ice. He filled it with chilled whiskey.

“Thank you, Harry. That’s so thoughtful.” You took a sip and grimaced even though you enjoyed the flavor.

“But wait! That’s not even the best part yet!”

Harry pulled the warm damp cloth from the tray and grabbed you by the back of your leg, just under your knee. It was one of your sensitive spots and was almost enough to make you want round two. He began wiping your thighs and cleaning you up.

“Wow. Aftercare? I’m impressed, Har. You this nice to all your partners?”

“A few,” he smiled up at you when you brought your glass to his lips and tilted it to give him a drink. You watched his throat as he swallowed. “Usually, I wear a condom so there isn’t this big of a mess.”

“Just a few? Aren’t I lucky, then?”

“You got that right,” he winked. “Only the best from my best friend. Look!” Harry reached behind him then held up the bar of dark chocolate. “I even remembered that you can’t drink it straight without something sweet.”

You giggled. “Wow. VIP treatment tonight.”

Harry finished cleaning you up the chucked the towel into a hamper near the bathroom door. You sat up and poured him a glass which he gladly accepted then laid down. You broke off a piece of chocolate and held it out to him. He grabbed it with his mouth and thanked you.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Harry asked even though his mouth was still full of chocolate.

You sat up and faced him. “Depends. Do you wanna stick close and go into town or do you want to take a little drive to the coast?”

“Mmmm. That’s a tough one. Why don’t we play it by ear?”

You playfully nudged him. “You mean you don’t have tomorrow all planned out already? Another?”

“Yes, please.” Harry held his mouth open waiting for another piece of chocolate.

“If we stay in town, we can go to that cute little restaurant we saw on the way up.” You tapped his shoulder as if it would jog his memory.

Harry nodded his head but otherwise stayed quiet. He finished his drink then set it down on the tray at the end of the bed.

“I don’t know about you, but I think I need another shower. I worked up a good sweat and now my skin feels all tight and sticky.”

“Can I join?”

“That depends. Are you going to want the temperature scalding hot?”

“Maybe. But I know you love it when someone washes your back for you.”

“Alright, you can come with. But I want you to scrub my back really well. Few minutes at least.” Harry had a playful look in his eyes.

“Deal.”

“Well alright then. Lead the way,” Harry followed behind you, watching as you opened the glass door to the spacious shower and turned on the water.

You stuck your hand under the water and looked at Harry. “This good?”

Harry leaned into the shower stall, a hand on the small of your back. “I guess. Unless you’re willing to turn it down just a tiny bit?”

“Not a chance.” You stepped into the shower under the stream of water. He always knew you were beautiful, but tonight was something else.

“You’re making me want another round,” Harry smiled as he slipped off his pants and stepped in the shower, closing the door behind him.

“Funny, I was thinking that earlier when you were cleaning me up.” You twirled your finger in a motion that asked him to turn around. “Pass me the body wash please.”

Harry passed the bottle and waited until he felt you press a soapy loofah to his back. You placed your other hand on his back to steady yourself as you ran the loofah over his back and sides.

“You know, that was pretty good for me, too. Maybe we can do it again. I mean, there’s no harm, right?”

“Yeah. Until one of us gets into a new relationship,” you agreed.

Harry laughed, “Why would I need someone else?”

You hit him on the back with the loofah before scrubbing him. “What do you mean? I’m not sleeping with you while you’re sleeping with someone else.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, why would I need someone else when I have you? With you I have companionship, someone there when I need them. You give me advice and now I know that we can have some of the best sex I’ve ever had together? What more do I need? We already kind of plan our futures with the other in mind. So… why involve anyone else? I have it made now.”

Both of you laughed.

 “Here. You finish up.” You handed him the loofah and grabbed the shampoo. You began to wash his hair.

“What about love? You can live without someone to romantically love?” You ran your fingers through his hair, cleaning his curly brown locks.

“I don’t know, Y/N. You keep screwing me like that I think I could get to romantic love. I already love you; I just need a couple more orgasms like that to tip me over the edge.”

You held his arms for stability as you bent forward laughing. He held you back and joined in your laughter.

“You’re terrible. Wash up.” You pushed him under the water and watched as he closed his eyes and washed the shampoo from his hair.

“’Kay, your turn.” Harry lathered his palms with shampoo and worked it into your hair by massaging your scalp. You hummed with pleasure, loving it when someone rubbed your head.

“Remember Adriana?”

You didn’t open your eyes to answer him, “Of course. You were crazy about her.”

“I was. But we agreed we weren’t the best for each other.” Harry began to clean the rest of his body. “We actually argued once because she thought we were too close.”

“Sorry, Harry. She wasn’t too far off the mark, though. I mean, look at our history. And then this evening—” You trailed off not finishing your thought.

“Can’t argue that,” Harry chuckled.

Harry placed a hand on your waist to trade places with you so you could rise off.

“I think I’m good without a girlfriend. How about you? Think you’ll get back into the dating game?”

“I don’t know.” You turned to look at Harry. “Done?”

“Yeah. I’ll grab our towels.”

You turned off the water and Harry took a step outside of the shower stall and handed you a towel.

You continued your thought as you dried yourself. “I mean, I think I’m good for now. You’re right that we already have a lot of the components that make a relationship fulfilling. I wouldn’t mind exploring a more physical relationship with you because I already know I can be open and trust you.”

Harry grinned from ear to ear. “I’m always right.”

You playfully smacked his chest and moved past him out of the shower.

“Love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at him but didn’t say it back.

“Y/N! I said I love you.”

Again, you didn’t respond, only nodding. You knew Harry could not handle it when you didn’t say it back.

“Y/N! Say it back!”

Instead, you wrapped the towel around you tighter and scurried back to bed.

“Brat! Come here and say it back to me!”

Harry followed after you and grabbed you with both arms causing you to yelp. He pinned you to the bed and tickled you.

“Say it back, Y/N. Say you love me back and you can end this.”

“Harry, please!” You cried out between giggles.

“Just say it. Three words and I’ll let you go.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

“Wrong.” He wrapped your hair around his hand to expose your neck. He blew raspberries on the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“Okay, fine! I love you! Are you happy now? Shit!”

Harry playfully pushed your head into the bed and rolled off of you.

You acted mad but Harry knew better. “Was that so hard?”

“No, but I can’t let you have everything so easily. Someone has to keep you in check.”

“So like you. Difficult for no reason.” Harry winked but you still threw a pillow at him.

“You sleeping here?” You had already hung your towel up in the bathroom and crawled in bed again.

“Might as well. I’m already here, right?” He got in bed and pulled the blankets up to his waist. “Do you mind if I sleep naked?”

“I don’t think that after today you ever have to ask that question again.”

Harry chuckled. “Come here. Since we’re being touchy feely, I want to cuddle you in my sleep.”

You scooted closer and relaxed into his arms, your back against his warm chest. He swung a leg over your legs.

“Don’t get upset when my morning wood pokes you.”

“Harry! You’re terrible! Go to bed.”

“Y/N? Wake up. Your breakfast is gonna get cold.”

You opened your eyes to see that Harry had made omlettes with the leftovers from last night’s dinner.

“See, this is why I took the room with the view. I had tea in my room and still had time to make breakfast before you woke up. You missed a hell of a view.”

You smiled, and looked over at the clock and saw it wasn’t yet 9:00. “Dude, it’s still so early, I’m sure the view is just as nice now as whenever the hell you woke up.”

“You’re something else. Scoot over, would you?” He got in bed and handed you a plate then grabbed his from the bedside table.

When breakfast was done you put the dishes in the kitchen then brushed your teeth. You had yet to get dressed after last night’s shower.

“Hey, Y/N? I’m feeling very frustrated again.”

You laughed, “are you now?”

“Come here.” Harry patted the bed beside him.

When you came near enough, he placed a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in for a kiss. You laid on the bed next to him and he immediately brought a hand between your legs.

“Are you always so eager?” You smirked at him and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“You have no idea. You better get used to it. Especially if you insist on walking around with nothing on.”

Any response you had dried in your throat. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything else other than the growing pleasure between your legs.

“Y/N. I want to try something with you.”

Harry looked at you nervously, but you only smiled. “Anything.”

“You’re going to regret having said that,” Harry said with a mischievous grin. He laid down on his stomach between your legs. “Still with me?”

“Yes.” You could barely breathe. The anticipation only made you more wet.

Harry wrapped his hands around your thighs and began to kiss your legs, making his way to your core. You let out a low, breathy moan. Even when he was teasing Harry was amazing. Without warning he licked your folds, causing you to cry out. He sucked on your clit before lapping up more of your arousal. He added his fingers and slowly pumped in and out of you, watching you squirm.

“Harry. Come here. I need to feel you.” You ran your hands through his hair.

Harry seemed to be ignoring you. He licked at your insides while he continued to pump his fingers. You caught how he was grinding his hips on the bed and felt a shiver run through your body.

“I’m so close,” you panted.

Harry moaned in response then brought his thumb up to rub your clit. His tongue was still lapping at your folds and licking your insides. Before long you felt yourself shaking as you climaxed.

When your legs had stopped trembling Harry climbed up your body. He kissed you deeply and pressed his body to yours, grinding against your hips. You were so slick he plunged into you without having to guide himself into you.

“You feel so good, Y/N. I’m never leaving this spot between your legs.”

As Harry pumped into you, you thrust to meet his hips. Deep and desperate moans filled the room along with the sounds of your bodies slapping together and the bed creaking.

“Fuck, I’m getting close.”

You wrapped your arms around him in response and dug your heels into his ass in an attempt to bury him deeper within you.

“Y/N, do I have to pull out?” Harry was panting, not slowing his pace at all.

“Inside. Always inside. Give me everything you got.”

With that, Harry came. He drained himself inside of you, his hips only slowing to a stop when he became too sensitive. Harry kissed you with a big smile on his face then laid down next to you. He rubbed your lower stomach—something you could get used to.

“You know, if we keep going raw like that we’re going to end up with an unplanned pregnancy. Especially with how forgetful you are with your meds.”

You smacked his chest playfully. “Hey! I am so much better now. It’s been ages since I’ve forgotten.”

Harry smiled and kissed you on your forehead.

“We should probably invest in condoms. I’m going to want to do this all the time. We could put them on an auto delivery.” You giggled and interlaced your fingers with Harry’s.

“Yeah. I’ll look into it as soon as we get back home.” Harry fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. “Or I could just get a vasectomy. Unless you want kids. Do you want kids?”

“Harry!” You burst out laughing. “We just started this…friends with benefits thing yesterday. Now you’re talking about vasectomies and children?”

“It’s a conversation we should have if we’re going to be sleeping together. Have you changed your mind since the last time we talked about kids?”

“You’re right,” you sighed. “Uh, no. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Well, your whole ‘if it happens, it happens’ stance is not a solid plan.” He laughed before kissing your forehead. “Such a wishy-washy approach could make things difficult later if something unplanned does happen.”

“What would you do if we go back home, and a couple weeks from now I miss my period. What do you want? Could you raise a kid with your best friend?”

“Absolutely. We’d be great parents.”

“Be serious!” You laughed, causing Harry to laugh too. You cuddled up to him and rested your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and gave you a loving squeeze.

“So, we actively take steps to make sure it doesn’t happen. Which may or may not include a vasectomy so I can keep enjoying you without a barrier between us.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.”

“But it still doesn’t address the unplanned. What’s our move then?”

“Um…then we have a child. We raise it with all the love we can.”

“I can handle that.”

Harry rested his head against yours and went quiet again. You were rubbing his arm when Harry blurts out, more to himself than to you, “what if we just get married now?”

“The fuck is going on in your head that that is where you ended up?”

“No, listen. I’ve been telling you for years your insurance is too expensive, whereas mine is quite reasonable. If we do become parents-to-be it would be so much cheaper and convenient to have you on my insurance plan.”

“So, I’ll join your insurance plan. Why do I have to marry you for that?”

“Because I don’t have the option to add best friends to my plan. Immediate family only like spouses.”

“Okay, well, if that happens Vegas is only a 6-hour drive from home. We’ll get married and I’ll get on your insurance plan. Deal?”

“Deal.” He snuggled you closer.

“You know, if this is your idea of pillow talk, I no longer wonder why your relationships haven’t worked out.”

Harry playfully shoved your face away onto your own pillow. “Brat.”

“Damn. Maybe we should get married. Think of what we’d save not paying for two mortgages.”

 “Now you’re talking. I’ll start planning the wedding.” Harry chuckled then winked at you.

“You should probably start planning for a future where I leave you and move across the country because you drive me insane.”

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You looked up at him expectantly.

“Shower first?”

“Fine. But this time you have to scrub my back!”

Part Two

[luvyeni]

MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter. 14 )

— CHAPTER FOURTEEN: my favorite cashier 🥰🤍…

— 𖦹 warnings? none

previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist

You opened the door to the café, immediately coming into jeongins view. “Hey.” He waved; you waved back. “Well, isn’t it my favorite cashier.” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, smiling to himself. “D-do you want the same.”

“You know it.” You said, “And what drink would you recommend.” He thought about it, before pointing. “I order that every day.” You nodded, “then i’ll have that too.” You smiled. “Are you eating here today too?” he asked. “Yeah I have a while until my next class.”

You found your favorite seat, pulling out your phone to wait for your food. You checked your messages, frowning — it had been a week since your mystery man texted you, he was supposed to be only a client, but you actually looked forward to his text.

Why was he ignoring you? Had you crossed the line by saying you wanted to see him? No way, guys would beg to see you — they’d pay money to spend the night with you, even if you knew you’d never do it. Maybe that’s what made him different. Maybe he only wanted to keep it strictly over the phone. By why? “(yn)?”

“I’m about to go on my lunch break.” Jeongin told his co-worker. “Good, you can take this to your girlfriend.” He handed him a tray. “My girlfriend?” he said, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“So that girl isn’t your girlfriend?” He pointed to where you sat. “n-no, she’s not.” He stuttered; you were the only girl he could mutter a single word to unless it was a coworker. “But i’ve seen you talking to her, which is rare for you, you know she also asks for you when you aren’t here?”

You ask about him? Why? “We’re just friends.” He said. “Well, she’s cute, you should set me up.” He took the tray from the boy. “Stop saying nonsense, i’ll be back soon.” He walked over to you; you hadn’t acknowledged him yet.

“yn?” you finally look up at him, he sat your tray down. “Thank you.” You said, “Are you on your break now?” He nodded. “Good now you can sit with me.” You pointed to the seat in front of you. “m-me?” you chuckled. “Well there’s no one else i’d be talking to silly.”

He hesitantly sat down, you past him the drink. “Here, drink this.” You smiled, “I get these for free, you didn’t have to.” You flagged him off. “I know, that’s why I also got you this.” You handed him half of the dessert. “Eat up.”

You watched him pick up the fork, taking a bite of the dessert. “Good, now stop being so scared, we’ve been talking for a few weeks you shouldn’t be this scared of me anymore.” You said, his ears turned. “I-i’m sorry.” He said, you reached out grabbing his hand. “Don’t stress it too much.”

He hated that he was like it this, being so shy has never worked out in his favor, we’ll expect those few times, drunk girls don’t really care if you’re shy or not, they just want to jump on the closest cute guy they see — that’s a story for a different time.

“I talk to much anyway, so I can do the talking for me and you.” You smiled, he mirrored yours. “Does that sound good?” He chuckled, looking down realizing you haven’t taken your hands off his — his heart thumping for a second, he followed your hand. “You have a tattoo?”

Where has he seen that tattoo? Before he could get another look, you took your hand away. “it’s embarrassing, me and lily got matching tattoos and they completely fucked it up.” You laughed, covering it up, that’s where he probably seen it, but he could’ve sworn he’d seen it somewhere else. “Ah, you two must be close?” You nodded. “We’re both from australia, she was the first person I actually met besides chan.” You spoke.

Sadly, it was time for him to get up, but he didn’t want to, he enjoyed talking to you. “You have to go back to work now?” He frowned, nodding. “Sadly.” He stood up, you grabbed his hand. “Hold on.” You reached into your bag, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. “I know we live next door to each other, but if you ever want to hang out when you’re not at work, you can call me.”

He watched you writing your number down. “Here.” You put the paper in his hand. “Make sure to actually use it, I really want to hang out with you.” You said, he nodded, praying you didn’t notice his red ear, or at least ignored it. “o-okay, i will.”

“Good.” You let his arm go with a smile, and he turned to walk away, smiling to himself. “Oh, it’s you.” He ran into your friend. “Mat!” He heard you yell. “It’s nice to see you, you should come out with us again, you cook really good meat.” Jeongin nodded, walking back to his register.

He watched you conversation with your friend, looking over at him, smiling waving. He waved back, smiling. “Jeongin pay attention, you have a customer.”

He shook his head; you were all he was focusing on, he forgot he was at work. “i’m so sorry, welcome to Love café how can I help you.”

And this time he actually said it with a smile.

— ( taglist. CLOSED ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie @aalexyuuuhm @iraa567 @cheshireshiya @ihrtlix @abbiestearsricochet @niaalove @skzswife @babrieeee @thisisnotjacinta @luvskai @ikeusol @costalmaine @whos-kkira @minhosprettywife @hey-hey-heybitch @jeongins-version @denisaandreea20 @lovesunshinefelix @222brainrot @thatgirlkay @ss3oung @number1jeonginstan @whitney190 @jongseongsluvr @chesemonky @worcesheshestershiresauce @puppy-minnie @prettygirlsstanskz @hanniemylovelyquokka

©LUVYENI

[its-time-to-write]

hi i love your work.

can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy

you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.

I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂

sinking into your worn out mattress

It’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.

You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.

You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.

You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day. 

“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”

She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared. 

But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.

—

It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.  

It’s stressing you out.

How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?

Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town. 

“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”

You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”

That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.

She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”

Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.

—

Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.

“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”

Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”

At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.

“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.” 

You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.

“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”

You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.

“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.

“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”

Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”

She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice. 

The gesture is so much like something a sister would do. 

“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”

Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”

You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”

She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.

“Probably since before I moved,” you say.

“And when was the last time you saw your family?”

You begin to see where she’s going.

“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”

Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”

“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”

Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”

It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”

“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”

You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”

—

Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience. 

You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities. 

You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain. 

You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air. 

“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”

It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.

“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to  each other, least of all themselves.”

Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.

“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”

“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.

She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.

“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”

Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”

You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.

“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.

“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”

“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.

“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in. 

Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”

You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.

“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”

Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.

You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”

That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.

—

It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.

Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.

But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard. 

Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.

And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.

—

You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out. 

You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.

You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing. 

“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”

You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.

“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”

You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.

Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.

“Mint,” he says.

—

“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.

“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.

“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”

What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.

“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped. 

“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”

“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack. 

“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”

You say thanks and hang up. 

Oh.

—

You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes. 

There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.

“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”

“And why are you here?”

You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.

He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”

You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.

“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”

His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.

“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”

You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth. 

You can feel his breath when he pulls away.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.

—

You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.

“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”

You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.

Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.

You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.

Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.

—

“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared. 

You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath. 

“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”

Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”

You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better. 

You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs. 

“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”

So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist. 

You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.

—

It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie. 

You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five. 

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.

It’s Jamie.

The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms. 

“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”

He can feel tears on his neck.

“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”

You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.

Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back. 

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.

You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.

“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.

“Are you dyin’?” he asks.

“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.

“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”

“Mental,” you agree.

Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.” 

He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.

You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”

Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”

“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“No you don’t,” you say.

“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”

You’re at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”

[rottenimagines]

THE FAVORITE GIRL

Summary: You, Negan's favorite ''wife'', have been captured after trying to escape. Now you have to face the consequences of your actions.

(Little disclaimer: English is not my native language, but I try my best, I promise x.)    

.

.

It had been a week since Y/n had escaped; a too-long time for someone like her to survive alone in the woods. Although all her effort was useless in the end, since she was captured by a search party anyway.

She was Negan's favorite woman, after all. He wasn't going to let her go that easily. He knew very well that she would not get very far by herself. And he was right...

.

.

.

Two of his men drag her to Negan’s office, where he has been waiting for their reunion for a while.

‘‘Well, well, well... Look who's back!’’

He says, as he immediately sets down what he was doing and jumps up from his desk to greet her with a triumphant grin. When he's right in front of her, he motions for his men to leave, and so they do. Both are left alone.

He smirks, looking her up and down, and lets out a mocking whistle before speaking again.

‘‘Well, my dear, it's good to see you again, still in one piece. You look terrible, though. No offense.’’ 

He grabs her chin and tilts her head up. ‘‘Tell me, Y/n, where were you?’’

She glares at him, ‘‘away from you.’’ 

He grins and pulls her closer to whisper in her ear, ‘‘you know you can’t escape from me...’’

‘‘You’re an asshole...’’ 

Negan rubs his face against hers. She can feel his hot breath on her skin.

‘‘You should be grateful, y’know? I saved you from the life you were living,’’ he stares her down. ‘‘I’m the reason you had three meals a day. I’m the reason you slept in a warm bed. I’m the reason you’re breathing right now.’’

‘‘I don't want any of those things anymore. I don’t want anything from you.’’

He steps away a bit, surprised by her attitude. He remains serious for a few moments, analyzing the whole situation before his eyes.

‘‘You wanna be the dinner of one of those dead pricks, darling? Is that what you were looking for out there? ‘Cause, you know, all this little mischief of yours has been stupid as hell. You know that, right?’’

He stares at her as if she’s the stupidest person alive, and she stares at him back as if he's the worst.

‘‘I'd rather be one of those monsters' dinner than yours.’’

The playfulness disappears from his face; he looks at her with a dead stare this time.

‘‘You must be joking...’’ his cold, dead stare last another few seconds, then he laughs. 

‘‘You’re just like every other woman in this world, aren’t you? You say one thing and do another. You agree to be with me, and then you just run away like a scared puppy.’’

He tries to get a more passionate reaction from her; he wants to provoke her to put an end to this new cold attitude of hers that is starting to make him mad.

‘‘Think what you like...’’ is her only response.

‘‘Oh, I know you’ll come back to me’’, he kisses her cheek, ‘‘...because you have no choice, right?’’

‘‘We’ll see.’’ She is willing to face the risks. 

A look of disappointment slowly creeps across his face. 

‘‘If you wish to be treated like the rest, fine. I’ll remove you from your pedestal and treat you like everyone else. No benefits. No special status. Nothing at all. Is that what you really want, Y/n?’’ He pauses a moment, while uncomfortable thoughts arise through his mind. ‘‘Just because of a little... misunderstanding?’’

She nods, impassively. 

‘‘Very well, then’’. He nods and puts his hands on his hips staring at her sternly. ‘‘You are on bathrooms cleaning duty starting tomorrow.’’ 

 He is willing to make her life as difficult as possible from now on as punishment for running away and, of course, to get her back to him.

 ‘‘...Fine.’’ 

‘‘And one more thing, Y/n. If you ever try to run away again...’’ he puts a finger under her chin, lifting her head to look at him. He leans in, close to being nose to nose, ‘‘you’re dead. Got it?’’

She nods.

‘‘Good girl.’’ He leans in and speaks in her ear: ‘‘You’ll come back to me, honey. You'll see, you'll see’’. His words come out in a husky whisper. 

Negan kisses her cheek before letting her go.

.

.

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[slicznymartwy]

and all at once i knew

part i (request)

read it all on ao3

billy lenz x gn!reader - billy watches you kill. he could have hurt you but he doesn't because he loves you. warning: includes minor character death(s), brief suicide/self harm mention, obsessive behavior

Billy’s a stray. He’s a kicked dog. He’s going to bite and hump anything that moves. He’s been abandoned at the park, or maybe he just ran away and forgot how to get home. But you own him now. He caught your scent, and he loves you. He’s your good doggy and he’s so terrible he should be put down for what he’s done. 

He’s so loyal to you. You’re so nice to him. You rub his scalp and give him food and water. You don’t beat him. You only make him feel so so so good. He loves you so much. He could bite you. He has, but you forgive him. He loves you. He doesn’t mean it when he draws blood. He’s so lonely and cold, and you let him sleep at the foot of your bed.

You plan in the dark. Sometimes, you face each other; other times, you hold him from behind, arms wrapped around his waist. You hold hands and let your legs touch under the covers. You fix his hair when it gets messy, and he brushes an eyelash off your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

“We’ll do it one by one, while they’re asleep,” you tell him one night, tracing the line of his nose. His eyes are closed, relishing in your touch. 

“Tie them up so they can’t fight. Stupid sluts,” he whispers a week later. He entwines your fingers together, staring at them. You think he likes seeing how close he can get to you. He watches how your body wraps around his with reverence and worship.

“We could set the house on fire. They’ll never know it was us,” you giggle, laying on top of him. His hands are on your hips, and his touch is so warm that it makes you want to take your sweater off. 

“I’ll cut off their heads if they talk to you again. I’ll saw them off and kick them like footballs,” he says darkly, drying your tears with his palm. He’s so angry you think he might kill them right then. 

When Susan left, no one thought to ask you where she went. They knew how she treated you. They all watched her mock you, and they laughed along like it didn’t make them complicit. They cried and wrung their hands while the police questioned them, and you tell Billy about it at night.

“Tonight,” he hisses, holding you down on the bed. He pins your wrists down against the mattress and he sits on top of you. Sometimes, you realize what he is. Rabid, feral, untamed. He can be mollified with fresh food and pets along his back, but he’s wild, even when he manages to speak clearly. “I’m going to kill them tonight. They’re all going to die.”

“Wait, please. One more day,” you say, trying not to look afraid. “Just hold me. Please.”

He does, but you wonder if you let him go too far. You gave him too much lead, and now you won’t get him to heel again.

Like Billy entering your bedroom in the dead of night, some changes happen so quietly you don’t realize what’s happened until it’s too late. You wake up one ordinary day, and your sisters are nice.

Maybe you’re just easier to be around, with how happy Billy makes you. Maybe they felt guilty and wanted to make amends. Maybe Susan had your sisters under an evil spell that made them act like complete cunts to you and, by killing her, you freed your housemates from her mind control. 

They laugh with you, they invite you to eat lunch with them. They still get teary eyed when they think about your missing sister, but they don’t say anything when you don’t cry. They know, and they’re sorry, and it feels good to hold that over them. 

“Billy,” you murmur at night. He moans low and quiet at the back of his throat, and the sound vibrates against your chest. You brush you hand through his hair gently. “I don’t think we should hurt them anymore.”

Billy doesn’t respond. He’s so still, you wonder if he’s asleep. 

“They’re not so mean anymore. It’s better now,” you explain. “I think they’re sorry.”

Still, Billy doesn’t respond. You pick your head up to look at him, but he’s already staring at you. His eyes are hauntingly empty of emotion. You try to smile, as placating as you can. 

“I’m sorry, Billy,” you whisper.

He turns his face towards your chest, pressing his nose against your bare sternum. He groans, but it sounds like a growl. 

“So stupid,” he mutters, sounding far away. “Stupid Bambi. Stupid slut.”

“That’s not nice,” you whisper quietly. You can feel his lips against the swell of your breast, and he kisses you like a lover. 

“Stupid. Can’t see what Billy sees. Stupid disgusting lying whores,” he says against your chest.

“I’m not stupid,” you defend yourself meekly. “Stop being mean.”

“Billy can help. Billy will help his Bambi,” he promises.

“I don’t want your help anymore, Billy,” you say, pushing at him. He doesn’t budge.

��Need Billy. Bambi needs Billy,” he mutters. You wonder if he’s even listening to you, if he’s ever listened at all.

“No, I don’t,” you say, trying instead to stand up. Billy effortlessly keeps you down. “Stop it.”

“Stop it,” he says, matching your tone. “Stop it, Billy.”

You sob out of frustration, trying to squirm out of his hold. He doesn’t let you go.

“I hate you,” you say, looking into his dark eyes. “I wish I didn’t know you.”

Billy freezes at your words. The room falls quiet. He stares at you like you’re food. 

“Something’s wrong with you,” you say, voice shaking. 

“I love you,” he finally manages to whisper.

“Leave me alone. I don’t need you,” you say, turning your face from him. You can still feel his eyes on you, they burn through you like the sun through a magnifying glass.

When you don’t say anything else, Billy stands. He stares at you from the side of the bed, and you pull your sheets up to hide your bare chest. It feels strange, hiding from someone that you’ve already shown everything. 

Billy leaves without shutting your door.

The next night, you lock it. You can hear him on the other side, twisting the knob. He rattles the door, wanting it open. Your pillow is so wet you have to turn it over to go to sleep. Your bed is so cold without him.

In the morning, the house is quiet. No one’s in the kitchen. There’s no line for the bathroom. No sounds are coming from any bedroom. There’s nobody in the house. You find some eventually, a pile of five girls in the bathtub. The tile is wet with their dark blood, so are their pajamas. You scream when you see them. Clare is on top, staring at you accusingly.

Sobbing, you fall onto your ass and kick your legs to get away. You feel like a kid again, throwing a tantrum when faced with consequences. You did this, you tell yourself, you asked for this. 

When he appears by your side, you hug him without a second thought. He cradles you in his arms on the bathroom floor and he lets you weep.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head. “I love you. I love you.”

You sob. You keep your eyes screwed shut. You can’t look at them, laying like logs for a fire. You fist your hand in Billy’s sweater, remembering what it was like to hold the knife for Susan. 

“Billy won’t leave Bambi,” he promises. It feels like a death sentence and a wedding. You’re the only two living souls in the house, and maybe the entire world. You love him because of it, but you wish you didn't.

“I need to clean before it stains,” you say, sniffling as you pull away from his chest. There’s so much blood. You wonder if there’s more in their beds, but you don’t want to know. Maybe it’ll be easier to burn it all to the ground with you and him still inside.

You find the bucket and gloves under the sink and turn on the faucet. Through the mirror, you see Billy rise and walk towards the tub. The water burns your hand and fogs the glass until you can’t see him anymore.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated

[e-adlirez]

So I once made a presentation about Thea Stilton for school

Before you ask when I did this, this was in 2023, during my last year of high school :3

So yes, this was very recent, I was very much active on Tumblr at the time, and I was very much aware of what I was doing. We were told to ramble about anything we wanted in any way we wanted (essay, TEDTalk, comic, etc.), and me being me, I knew I had to make a TEDTalk about my eleven-year-long hyperfixation, and I had just the topic for it. I spent a week making multiple drafts before cranking out the final one in time for the deadline of the script and the presentation, and I figured that since I'm still very proud of how the essay turned out, I oughta put it here :3

So this is the script of my talk, Dreams In the Cloud Castle, and spoilers for the aforementioned book, the Cloud Castle. Hope you enjoy :3

I’d like to start this talk by asking a question. Who here knows Thea Stilton, show of hands? (Response based on hands raised.) Alright, so just so everyone knows what I’m talking about, we have this mouse man named Geronimo Stilton, who has a sister named Thea Stilton, who has these students that are the actual protagonists of the Thea Stilton franchise. These students do investigation stuff in the normal world (think the Earth but mouse people), and sometimes they go to some nifty mythology realms to do investigation stuff. Got that? Good, because we’ll be talking about one of those mythological adventures, specifically the book, The Cloud Castle.

There’s a weird scene in the book’s climax where, because of circumstances, Violet, one of the main characters, saves her friend in an act of heroic sacrifice. The cost? Her dreams. The adversary she saves her friend from is this Crystal Eagle, who steals the dreams of those who look him in the eye. Such a fate is permanent, and unfortunately, such a fate has befallen Violet, who now can’t dream anymore.

But what does that mean?

Violet lost her dreams. What does that mean? This is one of those questions where you don’t realize that you don’t know the answer, until you think about it and look into it a little more than what was probably intended. Kinda like how Marvel Cinematic Universe plots start to make less and less sense the more you think about them. In this little talk, I’ll try to extrapolate an answer, and why you should care about it. I am taking up about eight minutes of your time, after all. Hopefully the argument I have for you today is a convincing one. These are dreams, what they mean, and why they’re important to us.

To understand the loss of something, one must understand what was lost. In this case, dreams. In this book’s setting, the Land of Clouds, dreams play a surprisingly important role: the fairies of this world use it to make clouds. How do we do that? Well, when a fairy sleeps, and more specifically dreams, they produce this silver thread that accumulates on their nightstand. When the fairy wakes up, they can use it to weave clouds. They make clouds from silver thread, that is made from their dreams, and clouds are what their entire world is made of. It seems like dreams are very important to this world or something.

Now, even though this bit about dreams was about the harmless visions you see at night, isn’t this similar to how we use our goals and aspirations in real life? We dream, that is to say we aspire to a certain goal, and with that goal, we create. We create something that inevitably becomes a part of the world we live in: construction, technology, music, art– all of these, I’d argue, are important to our society, and all of these things come from here. Isn’t that a powerful thing to have?

Now that we’ve talked about dreams, let’s talk about that hypothetical: the idea of losing your dreams, and the ability to dream. What does that mean? Well, think back to what I said earlier. The fairies’ nightly visions and their ability to have them allow them to create. Our goals and our ability to reach for them allow us to create. The fairies’ purpose is to turn their dreams into clouds. Our purpose in life is dependent on what we want to do with our lives, which is directed by our dreams, our goals. Without our dreams, without our goals, without our aspirations… Who are we if not lost?

Actually, let’s explore this thought experiment a little further. Think about this: Why do we do things? Besides the essentials for survival, why do we do things at all? Because someone else told you to do it? Well, why did they tell you to do that? Because someone else told them? Eventually, this will all circle back to a first person who had some sort of motivation, some sort of dream. The Merriam-Webster definition of a dream is “a strongly desired goal or purpose”. Desiring something can already call it a dream. Maybe you want to run for office, or run a successful business, or make art, or make technological advancements for the good of humanity. All of these things are dreams. If we were robbed of our dreams and the ability to have them, what then? If you didn’t have any dreams, what would you create? Would you desire to create at all? You may think “this isn’t worth pondering about at all. I have my dreams, and I don’t have to deal with crystal eagles.” And yeah, you’re right. We don’t have magical birds that appear out of nowhere and steal our dreams; but what do we have? Burnout? Depression? Intrusive thoughts? If these things conquered us so thoroughly, if we stared into the eyes of the eagle for too long, to the degree that we lost sight of our dreams… I ask again, who are we?

When I read the segment that ensued after Violet lost her dreams for the first time, I wondered to myself what was going on in her head. It was a question that I had for the longest time, and I would scan that third act of the book again and again, to get even the tiniest glimpse into what it was like to be dreamless. I would always end up frustrated, because it seemed like Violet was doing nothing besides going along with everyone else in silence. At most, she’d make some pointless comment that contributed nothing to the conversation, let alone the plot. I originally thought that this was an act of negligence on the part of the author, or perhaps the censorship of the English publishers; but then I realized something: Violet was doing nothing. When she walked through the Hall of Mirrors that she previously said she was scared of, all she could say was that her reflections looked pale. When the girls were presented with a pick-the-door riddle, Violet didn’t give a single word of insight. When the girls finally discovered the reason why the fairies can’t make clouds, Violet didn’t react at all. Violet was doing nothing. Throughout the entire third act of the story, Violet was doing nothing. She wasn’t even making a productive conversation. And how could she make anything in that state of mind, where it is impossible to dream, impossible to create, impossible to… do anything?

After this epiphany, I thought about a scenario where she returned to her home below the clouds dreamless. She’s a naturally creative person– would she be able to make art while she was dreamless? Would she be able to write, make music, play music at all? Since dreams in this case denote ambition or motivation, and Violet’s condition is the antithesis of that, would she be able to do anything at all? If we were put in a similar situation that could happen in real life, would we be able to do anything at all? If we were fortunate enough to lose the dream but not the ability to dream, how would we process the situation? How would we deal with it? How would we get through it? Would there come a moment where we can reach for something again? Or would we be stuck like that forever, wandering aimlessly for the rest of our lives?

Thank Queen Nephele’s plot-convenient healing crystal that Violet got better.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

♥︎ Whump Dating Sim: Longing for Flight - Part 4 ♥︎

Current Heart Level: ♥︎♡♡♡♡ (1/5)

Last Poll | Masterlist | Image Source

Last week, we had a tie between two answers, so I chose, “Let him go. Tell him about the chip, that your people will protect him.” I also rolled a die (virtually) to determine whether Allister would be able to remove the tracking chip. I rolled on Allister’s behalf against a difficulty of 12. It was a 6, so he is not able to find and remove it. He’s also very happy with your decision! You get two more relationship points, for a total of six! That’s over five points, so you now have one heart with Allister. He considers you to be someone worthy of at least a small amount of trust – you’re a friendly acquaintance who has helped him. He feels safer with you around.

I'll post a "heart event" at some point!!

CW: hospital setting, walking with injuries

“Okay! Okay, we’ll let you go to this rendezvous point. Meet your handlers. Just please don’t hurt yourself.”

They stop struggling right away, although they're still dealing with the aftereffects of panic. They look a bit stunned. “…What? Really?”

“Yes. I’ll have to talk to my higher-ups, but I’m in charge of this project, and if I say you go, then you go. …And there’s something else I need you to know. “ You take a deep breath. He’s probably not going to like this, but you can’t stand to lie to him anymore. “During your treatment, our physicians embedded a tracking chip under your skin. We – “

“What!? Where is it?” He’s looking at his arms, but he won’t be able to find it. It’s on his back, where he hopefully can’t reach.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not ideal. But it does mean that we may be able to help you. We’re going to find out the information that you can’t safely tell us. We’ll see where you go, and we’ll be there to rescue you as soon as we can.” You try to sound more confident than you feel. The Operator is slippery – who knows what could happen. But it’s as solid a plan as you’re going to get.

That look of stunned disbelief only magnifies. They lean back against their pillow, just staring at you in wonder. “I haven’t…even considered that possibility in so long…” He shakes his head and seems to come back to himself. “No, you won’t be able to do it. Security is too tight.”

“I – “

“No. I’m not getting my hopes up. But…thank you. I’m glad we got the chance to talk. You don’t know how much peace you’ve given me. Sometimes I forget that there are decent people, on the outside. I’ll be surviving on that memory in the coming months.”

Months? You wonder about that choice of wording, but you don’t comment. All you say is, "You're welcome. I've done almost nothing, really."

He’s still jittery. “Can we get going? It’s already too late but the sooner I get there…well, let’s just say my punishment will fit the crime.”

You do your best to ignore that ominous phrasing. You’re coming for him. You’ll get to him before anything can happen, it’ll be fine. “Yeah, I’ll get the medics to unhook everything.”

So the IVs come out and he gets his clothes, his wallet. You hate to see him up and moving in this state. He's unsteady, trailing a hand against the wall on the way to the door but he refuses a crutch. “I’ve been in worse shape,” he says. You stay at his side in case he falls.

“Do you want us to drive you?” God it hurts to watch them limping like that, trying not to favor either the leg that was shot in the thigh, or the side that was shot through the abdomen.

“No. You can’t know where I’m going. Or at least…they can’t know that you know. Not right away. Once I'm out there, stay at a distance. Don’t come until you see that my tracker has stopped moving for a while, okay?”

“Okay.”

They comes to a rest against the double glass doors, a hand on the lever and their soft, golden hair glowing in the sunset. He’s panting from the exertion of just that short walk, and he's about to have to walk for probably miles more, but you have no doubt he’ll make it to wherever he’s going. “In case we don’t meet again…Thank you. So much. You shouldn’t have to be doing this.”

You scoff. “Hey, I’m not some civilian. This is my job, and facing off against The Operator was my choice. We’re gonna make sure you’re okay.”

But he won’t look at you. He’s scared, you can tell, and it’s as much for you as for himself. “You have to understand how badly I want him dead. It’s the only thing that matters, the only thing that keeps me going. There’s no normal life for me after…after all this. There’s only his death. If it weren’t for the possibility that you can give me an opening, that I can actually take him down… I’d tell everyone to stay the hell away. But this may be the best chance anyone’s had in years, and The Operator’s downfall is bigger than just you or me.” He shifts his weight against the pain automatically, hardly noticing it. You wonder how long it’s been since his own pain mattered to him.

You nod. “I don’t plan on fucking this up.” And, because you can’t let that slide without saying something more, you add…

Tagging: @bluelolblue

Please comment, ask, etc. to be added to a tag list for updates!

[marie-swriting]

Is Your Plan Working ? - Steve Harrington

Drabble Masterlist

Summary : Steve thinks he still can get a number from a random girl, you think he can't.

Warnings : sister!reader, reader is 14, set before season 3.

Word count : 706

French version on Tumblr

French version on Wattpad

Prompt : "Was I supposed to be impressed ?" 4th prompt from this list made by @exhuastedpigeon

“Hey dumbass !” You shout, making Steve turn around.

“What do you want, Y/N ?”

“You make me an ice cream ?”

“You literally insulted me at my workplace and you want me to give you an ice cream ?” He questions, outraged.

You roll your eyes before putting your innocent face on and stating with a small voice :  

“I apologise, my sweet brother. May I have an ice cream, please ?”

“Alright, I’m gonna do your ice cream, but only because I don’t wanna see your face anymore.” Steve gives up, annoyed.

“Love you, too.”

While Steve makes your order, you observe him, wanting to distract him. He started working at Scoops Ahoy three weeks ago so it’s still kind of hard for him. For you, it’s the perfect occasion to have free ice creams and mock your brother. Unfortunately, Steve does his work without a mistake today.

When he’s done, you take your cup and sit at a table near the counter. Steve rolls his eyes as he sees you’re still not leaving. You take your time to eat because you want to annoy him as much as you can. You’re taking another spoon of your ice cream with a fake-angelic expression on your face.

“Tell me Steve, is your plan working ? Did you get any numbers ?”

“Yes. Totally. Without a doubt.” He exclaims, trying to play it cool.

“Huh, technically, you got none.” Robin corrects him as she arrives at the counter.

“That’s false, I got one !”

“Yeah, zero and half. She didn’t give you the good one.”

When you hear this information, you can’t help but burst out laughing, imagining the scene in your head.

“I wish I could have seen that. I can’t believe after all these years being nicknamed ‘King Steve’, you’re struggling that much. I love it.” You state as you take another bite of your ice cream.

“It’s always nice to feel supported.” Steve says ironically. “But we’ll see who’s gonna be laughing in the end when I’ll have a girlfriend before the end of the holidays while you’ll still be hanging out with your little friends.”

“At least, they’re my age. Listen, we really like you Steve but you’re hurting our feelings when you hang with us.”

“Wait, the kids that come here almost everyday are your friends ?” Robin asks you and you nod. “I’m coming back in a sec.” She informs before getting a white board.

As you finish eating, you watch Robin taking a marker pen, drawing two categories where it’s written ‘YOU RULE’ and ‘YOU SUCK’. In that last one, she draws a stick before saying : 

“I feel like this column is gonna be full really soon.”

“Yeah, whatever. Keep mocking me, I’ll prove to you that my charms still work. I’m gonna do it right now, actually.” Steve affirms, showing you the new client. “Get ready to put a stick in that ‘YOU RULE’ column.” He says to Robin before smiling at the girl. “Welcome to Scoops Ahoy, can I offer you an ice cream ?”

“Hello, can I have lemon and strawberry, please.”

“Right away.”

Steve is fully focused on the making of the ice cream, making sure it’s done perfectly. Once he’s done, he gives the cup to the client. She’s about to pay when he stops her with a charming smile. 

“It’s free.”

“Really ?”

“Yes, my pleasure.”

“Thank you ! My boyfriend is gonna be happy.” She smiles while Steve’s face breaks down. “Have a nice day.”

You wait for the young woman to leave before laughing out loud with Robin. She holds her tummy before drawing another stick on the board. Steve tries to not let anything show, even though hurt can be seen in his eyes.

“Was I supposed to be impressed ?” You ask, calming your laugh. “Your face was beautiful, wish I could have taken a picture. Well, I’d like to keep mocking your lack of charm but I have to hang out with my friends.” You state before throwing your cup. “See you Robin.” You add before leaving and ignoring your brother. 

“You have to be home by six !” Steve orders you.

“If you get one number, maybe yes.”

“I love your sister.” Robin smiles, making Steve roll his eyes.

Drabble Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[missmaniac25]

Heroes and Villains - Hyunjin and Seungmin

Warnings - none (i think. Maybe being tossed off of a bridge) W.c: 700+

~

Awkard shuffling. Small sips. Pretending to cough and clear their throats.

Despite their many previous encounters, this had to be the weirdest.

Seungmin taps his finger against the side of his glass, hoping about all hopes that he will be able to leave this event soon. He’d really only come because his parents had asked him to and he owed it to them, after his last close call with the heroes.

He peers over at Hyunjin, his polar opposite out in the normal world, but on equal footing tonight. It was strange. Not even a week before the two had been at each other’s throats, literally, and here they were, pretending to be friends again.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Hyunjin’s words take Seungmin out of his own head.

“I didn’t want to but…” He takes another sip. “Parents.”

“Hmm. Same.”

The noise of the people around them continues to buzz but the two men return to silence. Seungmin tries to think of something to say but the hero beats him to it.

“Apparently our dads are planning a fishing trip for the long weekend,” he says, glancing over. “I’ve already been invited to go with.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a skip then.”

The villain is about to start making up a new plan in his head but…

“Don’t even think about trying anything when I’m away.” Hyunjin faces him properly. “I’ve told my mom to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re such a buzzkill.”

The hero scoffs but there’s a smile playing on his lips.

“Do I need to remind you that you tried to throw me off of a bridge not five days ago?”

Seungmin can’t help but laugh a little.

“I did throw you off. You just managed to grab onto the edge and pull yourself up again.”

There’s a feeling of nostalgia blooming in the villain’s chest. Once upon a time he and Hyunjin used to actually be friends; they used to spend afternoons playing together in the garden while their folks talked, only calling them in once the sun was beginning to set. Seungmin knows that it’s his fault that they aren’t that close anymore. Hyunjin was always going to be a hero and follow in his mother’s footsteps. It was Seungmin who decided to pursue villainy; to not be a civilian like his parents.

“Do you remember when we put wet paint all over Mr Kim’s front porch?” Seungmin asks, the memory suddenly coming back to him.

“You mean the time when you put wet paint all over the porch while I tried everything in my power to stop you?” Hyunjin presses. “Yeah, I remember something like that.”

“How was I supposed to know that Mr Kim had his whole family visiting him that day?”

The two men lock eyes and they can’t help the laughter that bubbles out.

“I should’ve known then that you were going to be a villain,” Hyunjin says, still smiling. “You were always up to mischief.”

Their laughter fades into nothing as they stand there, lost in memory.

“I guess when I next see you, we’ll be back to normal?” Seungmin asks hopefully. He knows what the answer will be but he wants to believe that there’s a part of Hyunjin’s heart that yearns to go back to simpler times, just as his does.

It’s as if a shadow comes over the hero. His expression turning serious.

“Yes. I still have a duty to protect this city and its civilians. Our past never interfered with that before and it won’t now.”

Seungmin nods as he gazes down at the floor.

“Hey.” Hyunjin taps his friend on the arm. “You could always come on the fishing trip with us. My dad would love to catch up with you.”

A tiny spark ignites in Seungmin’s chest.

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

A ping from Hyunjin’s pocket catches their attention and he’s quick to pull his phone out of his pocket. Seungmin can’t see what’s on the screen.

“I have to go,” Hyunjin states, putting his glass down on a nearby table. “Something’s come up.”

“Hero stuff?” Seungmin asks.

“Yeah, hero stuff.”

There’s a moment where Hyunjin doesn’t move and Seungmin wonders if he isn’t going to go. He’s shocked when the hero pulls him in for a hug.

“Stay safe, Seungmin,” Hyunjin says before pulling away and disappearing into the crowd.

Seungmin was left standing there stunned.

[demisexualemmaswan]

I’m trying not to be angry and I’m trying to be forgiving but it is so goddamn HARD sometimes

so this is definitely what you think this is gonna be about but strap in for a story if you’re interested

my cousin’s bf just graduated from undergrad and the off campus house he’d been living at had this cat that would come to the window and beg to be let in

turns out that the day had lived there during the 22-23 school year, was abandoned, and now my cousin’s bf had fed her during the 23-24 school year

so I say well why don’t we see if we can get her and I’ll take her cuz I’m moving to a new apartment

and so I emailed a bunch of rescues to see if anyone would help me and at first no one did

and then this one teacher was like yeah if you can trap her we’ll set her up with a short term foster

and off I went and successfully trapped her but she gave herself a scrape trying to get out because y’know she was scared and confined

and I brought her to the rescue who wouldn’t take her because she hurt herself in transport and because she wasn’t openly affectionate to the volunteer at the rescue

but they give us the name of an animal hospital and I brought the cat to the animal hospital and naturally the cat hissed and swatted at the vet because she was scared and he was trying to touch her

and I had nowhere else to bring this cat because it was 4pm on a Sunday and I’d never been given the impression that there wasn’t a world in which they couldn’t take her at least to see if she’d settle down

and so I had to rerelease her that day

but I didn’t believe that she was totally a lost cause and I had to get a second opinion and the second opinion said there was no way to tell her true personality

so the second opinion and I have been trying a few hours a day for the last three weeks AJ’s today I had off so I was like surely it’ll only take a few hours for her to go under the drop trap since that’s where the food is and it’ll be over

and I’ve been here almost five hours and I’m so angry because I had her

this could’ve been offer three weeks ago if not for that first rescue! and I’ve been here for five hours, I’m covered in mosquito bites, I wanna cry

and now the cat doesn’t trust me anymore (and I don’t blame) and I just feel can’t help but wonder like what if that was my one chance to get her

and she won’t let herself be caught ever again

like she could get really hurt by continuing to be an outdoor cat and I just wanna help and I’m just so angry at that first rescue place

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Bisexual!Michael Masterlist

but then i hear u calling (there u are) (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke N/R, 933

Summary: michael and luke have always been the closest. friendly kisses lasting no longer than 3 seconds are shared frequently between the duo- calum and ashton watching from a distance, almost admiring their friendship. until it wasn't a friendship anymore.

How You Get the Girl (ao3) - 1loulu5 michael/calum, michael/ofc T, 2k

Summary: “Wh… What does ‘castrate’ mean?” Michael sounded perplexed.

Calum laughed, “It means I’ll cut your balls off.”

“Oh-”

~~~

Michael calls Calum, his ex for the past 4 years, for relationship advice.

Not Just a Stupid Game (ao3) - coffeemuke michael/luke E, 2k

Summary: A game of truth or dare leads to Michael following through on a dare.

Paint Me - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/ashton, michael/crystal E, 17k

Summary: “Holy shit, hold on a minute,” Calum says, “is that who we’re supposed to be drawing?”

“I can’t draw him,” Michael gawks, “I’m not a Goddamn renaissance painter.”

Or, the one where Luke is an art student practicing realism for a month and Ashton is the nude model in his portrait class.

Promise (ao3) - boomercal calum/ashton, sierra/luke, michael/crystal, calum/ofc M, 115k

Summary: Live music photographer Calum does one favour for a friend (filling in last minute for a show), and his life changes for good. Finding his muse, world-famous pop/rock sensation Ashton Irwin. He thinks once the shows are over, he can pack it in and forget all about it, but a Google search and a phone call set him up on a North American tour where he'll see the man every day... Too bad his Google search revealed the man of his every fantasy has a purity pact with God. So what's a..promiscuous young man to do? Repress it? Sure, that'll work.

Tangled in a Triangle (ao3) - orsumeuphoria michael/crystal/ashton E, 9k

Summary: “You ever have him like this, Crys?” Ashton asks. Crystal doesn’t say anything, but she must shake her head because Ashton continues, “Shame. I think you’d like it. He’s so pretty on his knees.” Michael keens. “C’mere.”

Crystal’s immaculate sneakers appear right behind Ashton’s boots.

The next command he gets isn’t spoken. Ashton only has to tap the base of his jaw for Michael to look up.

The image of both Ashton and Crystal towering over him, Ashton smiling softly and Crystal looking intrigued, is one he burns into his memory.

“Hi, dove,” Ashton murmurs softly, “Fucking missed you.”

The Blower's Daughter (ao3) - MyMy michael/calum, luke/ashton M, 13k (WIP)

Summary: “Did you need something else?” Michael inquires politely a little confused himself.

“I was wondering if I could get your number actually?” The stranger asks biting his lip into his mouth quickly.

“Oh sure!” Michael replies happily. He reaches around the register to the side facing the customer and feels around for the little stack of cards with the shop info on it and the logo embossed in solid black.

“Here this has the shop number right here.” Michael points to the tiny row of numbers on the card. “So if you need anything don’t be afraid to call, okay? We can do special orders as well so anything music related we’ll try our best to get it for you!”

The Gayest Thing I've Ever Done (ao3) - coffeemuke michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 1k

Summary: Band bonding crosses the line between normal and weird, and it's Luke's fault. But the boys don't seem to mind.

The Posse's Origin (ao3) - Jay_isnotokay calum/ashton, michael/ashton E, 6k

Summary: "...I've been apart of the princess posse for a few weeks now and I still don't how you two got 'initated' in the first place." Luke said.

"Alright, LuLu, have I got a story for you."

~

Or Luke wants to know how the posse started and, well, they tell him.

up to your mouth, feeling it out (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke, luke/ashton E, 9k

Summary: Ashton's the one who suggested it; after all, he would know how well Luke would do in the industry, since he spent most Friday nights with his best friend's lips around his cock. Luke, on the other hand, didn't know he would end up fluffing for a record-breaking pornstar who is like, really really hot, and definitely his type.

or, Luke is broke and has a talented mouth (and a tongue piercing).

your string of lights is still bright to me (ao3) - merlypops michael/calum E, 81k

Summary: Michael is struggling to be the father his daughters need. Until he meets Calum again.

[runfast-runfar]

Daily things

9/13/23

✨ a coworker of mine went to Paignton a town in England and brought me back some things bc my name is never on anything lol! It was so sweet and thoughtful!

✨ I ended up testing positive for covid yesterday, and I don’t feel great but I also don’t feel very bad. So it’s actually nice bc I have the rest of the week off but I don’t feel awful so I can still get stuff done in my day. (Knocks on wood I don’t begin to feel really awful!)

✨ I’m dog sitting for two weeks and I went grocery shopping and saw these little small Halloween Squishmallows and had to get them! For being in the spirit!! I actually got the cat and beaver yesterday and loved the bat but chose to only get two. And then I couldn’t stop thinking of the bay and so I went back today and got him ☺️

✨ I went on a run this morning and I shifted my mindset with running a few days ago and it’s brought so much joy back into running! I hadn’t ran in almost a year due to treatment/ed related things. And so I was getting so angry at myself bc I couldn’t run like before. My endurance is essentially gone. I’m tired allllll the fucking time. And I’m so bloated and uncomfortable 100% of the time. When I would go run I’d feel awful that I could only go a mile and then be struggling. I would keep saying and thinking about how I used to go out for 12-15 mile runs multiple times a week and not even have broken a sweat. I felt horrendous compared to that. But then I thought back to when I started running back in middle school. I would run a song and walk a song for an hour. And then I’d run two songs, walk one song… and then over time it’d be three or four songs and walk one song.. until eventually I was just running. And I realized maybe that’s what I go back to now. There’s no shame in that. I’ve taken a year off of running. I’m not going to pick up where I left off exactly, and a lot of the beauty of this process will come from starting over. And ever since I looked at it that way, it’s been better. I’ll set to go out for 45 minutes to an hour, alternately between running and walking if needed and not judge myself for it and it’s transformed how I feel after run! And I’m excited to see the growth and progress over time!

✨ when I was on a run this morning I knew to take it easy bc I am sick even if I don’t feel like death. So I went out for 45 minutes and ran 2-3 songs and then would walk a song, run 2-3 then walk one, etc. and it just felt like fun and I loved it.

Then I came back, drank my coffee and watched the Barbie movie (I love it! Also obsessed with Margot Robbie so I’m biased lol!) after that I did a 45 minute peloton class and then have spent the rest of today relaxing, taking a nap, and now I’m watching I, Tonya.

✨ it’s now 2:30 in the afternoon, I’m going to spend the rest of today journaling, playing the switch, taking Finn (the doggo) on a walk, reading a bit and then probably watching another movie later on! I appreciate the relaxing moments so much.

✨ I ended up reaching out to the treatment program I’ve been in for 6 months now (2 months in residential and 4 months in PHP) and letting one of the dietitians know I am leaving against medical advice. I can’t take the time off work anymore and I do feel ready. So we’ll see.

✨ I hope you’re all well, and happy hump day!

[snowdust64]

Ouma Great War Chronicles - Episode 8: It Would Be a Lie to Say I Don’t Feel Bitter

Narrator:  One week has passed since Nagao, Kaida, and Genzuki failed to capture the culprit who was setting up the Treasure Chests of Lunacy. At the Bureau Cafeteria, in the middle of their conversation, Kaida made an offhand comment.

scene:  Bureau Cafeteria

Kaida:  Now that you mention it, it does look like no more incidents of mad transformations have happened since then.

Nagao:  Yeah. But… No way we can call it case closed with this.

Kaida:  That’s the thing. We couldn’t catch the culprit setting up the Treasure Chests of Lunacy, so even now, he’s on the loose, and we haven’t come up with any fundamental solution either.

Genzuki:  The investigation needs to make progress before the incidents start happening again… Hah. I wasn’t expecting a straightforward resolution, but it looks like we’ll be wrapped up in this case for a long time.

Nagao:  Well, as much as it makes our heads hurt, that’s not gonna change. Let’s just each do what we can. Right now anyway, that’ll be eating as much as we can eat. Can’t get anything done on an empty stomach, isn’t that the saying?

Kaida:  You’re just using it self-servingly though. If you eat so much, maybe when you’re battling with demons, you won’t be able to move around properly, you know?

Nagao:  It’s fine. If I eat, just having eaten will let me move. That’s how I’m built!

Genzuki:  Haha… The same amount as Kei-kun would be impossible for me, but I’ll try to eat a lot too. One way or another, what we eat will turn into energy.

Kaida:  Genzuki, you too? … Well, you are right.

Nagao:  Alright. Then, how about the three of us compete to see who can eat the most!

Genzuki+Kaida:  Not gonna.

scene change:  Nagao’s Workroom

 Nagao:  Hah… I went around to check locations where it seemed like more Cases of Demon Madness might happen, but that ended fruitlessly. (Has the culprit completely stopped his activities, or is he being deliberately cautious now that he knows we’re sniffing around on the case? I can’t pick out even a trace of suspicious information. Haru and Toujirou are continuing their own investigations too, but they’re in the same situation as me…) What can we even do? But that said, if we fare badly against demons’ attacks again, it’ll be more troubling. (Moreover… That man who is setting up the Treasure Chests of Lunacy… To think there was someone of that skill within the Ouma Empire. I thought if it was the three of us, we could have lasted a little longer in a fight no matter what kind of adversary we faced. And yet, in reality, we were helpless. It would be a lie to say I don’t feel bitter over something like that!) (We’ll definitely re-challenge. To that end, first, I have to give even more time to training!)

scene change:  Bureau Research Deparment

Kaida:  Uhhhm… To counter the effects that the Treasure Chest of Lunacy has on demons, I need to incorporate something with the opposite effect, but… Plan A and Plan B are both impossible. For Plan C, if the material could be obtained…? Nah. Just the act of finding such a useful material would be praiseworthy in itself… Which means Plan C is also impossible. I need to think of some other alternative, but… nothing is coming to mind anymore. Ah, geez! Throwing my hands up! I admit defeat!

Hinata:  Ahaha… Kaida-senpai, please calm down. I’ve brought some tea! Since you’re been thinking this through this whole time, take a breather.

Kaida:  Ah… thanks, Hinata. Itadakimasu – Ah, so warm…

Hinata:  Heheh, looks like you’ve calmed down a bit, thank goodness. But, I can see the development of that tool you mentioned is running into difficulties. Umm, what name did you call it again?

Kaida:  It’s the Soul-Resting Flute. *

Hinata:  That’s right that’s right! Heheh, it’s a cool name isn’t it. Plus, being able to pacify demons, what an amazing tool!

Kaida:  Mn. If we can accomplish this much, then even if the Cases of Demon Madness start happening again, dealing with them should become easier. But it’s not a simple task to carry this out… Somehow, I’m doubting more and more that I have talent after all. My confidence is disappearing.

Hinata:  No way! Kaida-senpai having no talent, that’s unthinkable! Whatever anyone may say, you’re a genius and also a hard worker, a truly amazing person!

Kaida:  Ah, ahaha… Thank you. (Expectations to this degree do hold some pressure… but I’d like to answer those expectations. For the empire’s sake as well, I must not run away from developing this. However… It’s also a fact that I’ve hit a ceiling with ideas.) Hmm, what to do about this… (What if, with only our current understanding about it, it’s not even possible to create the Soul-Resting Flute…? In that case ─ )

scene change:  Genzuki’s Workroom

Nikaido:  Hah, you’re still doing those sorts of things. How about you start by looking up the meaning of the word ‘efficiency’ in a dictionary?

Genzuki:  … Nikaido-kun…

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Translation notes

*  鎮魂 (chinkon) can refer to calming souls of the living or to serenading souls of the dead, as in a requiem. “Soul-Resting” accommodates either meaning and so that’s what I chose.