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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years ago

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Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly.

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him.

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it.

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning.

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences.

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils.

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather.

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

#anna writes #this prompt rly sent me into a tailspin of emotion #Anonymous

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fanficmemes · 4 years ago

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Dear CB,

I am happy to hear you appreciated my last letter.

Your words are always kind and warm my soul in these dreadful days of deadlines and indecisive weather still not sure if the first blossom of summer is here or if the ice will return in our homes. It also made me rest easier in my bed to learn you are now better, after the sickly days subsequent to the medicine administration.

You are now free of the burden of the heavy cloud of sickness still cover our cities, and it make me happy.

You told me you would have liked to receive the recipe of the pie i told you about last time, so i will write it down in a paper to put in the same envelope of this one. I already excuse my persona for the verbosity i will submit you, but the power of synthesis is not something the sky gifted me.

Hope my letter will find you in good health and sweet mood,

With love,

Soupy.

Dear Soup, I'm writing this with the greatest of joys after receiving your recipe. It sounds heavenly, and am quite excited to enjoy it to the fullest.

Just as you say my words warmed you, so did your words keep me through those pale and cool spring days. I reread your most kind letter while in my illness, it helped greatly with recovery, I assure you.

If it's alright with you, I shall attach the recipe underneath my goodbyes, as I tend to lose things with great ease and it would pain me to lose such a gem as this. And never worry that chatter while baking would ever bother me, I find it quite lovely.

I hope this letter will find you far across the waters between us, and that it will bring a smile to your face and joy to your heart.

All love,

Lemon pie recipe.

This doses are for a 22 cm diameter mold.

It is but a simple recipe, not so different from every other lemon pie you can probably find everywhere, but is the pie we always eat in my family, since sour lemons is something everyone of my affections love the taste. You can picture how much it make me silly laugh when i think about how my taste for the citrus extend also to my leisure reading times, but there are things we cannot tell properly in public, and i confide in the secrecy of our reading club.

The structure is the classic one, composed by a crust, a lemon cream and a sweet meringue.

For the base i am biased in using shortcrust, that better adapt to the type of cream and is quite easy to prepare, surely more than complex french pastry. Is of course understandable is a lack of time and desire to cook made you go instead for a modern storebought puff pastry.

For the crust you will need:

250g of all purpose flour

125 g of butter

1 egg

100 g of powdered sugar (also normal crystal sugar is good, it you prefer a more rough feeling)

A bit of lemon zest for taste.

Cut the butter and mix it with the flour, crumbling it till it reach a sable consistency. Add then the sugar, the egg and the lemon zest, and work with your hands till is smooth and workable. Is better to not strain it too much, or the gluten would form and instead of a crispy crust we would find ourself with an hard chewy bread. Let it rest in the fridge for at least an half hour. When rested, and remember to rest also yourself, work it in a flat disc or your preferred thickness and put it in an already buttered and floured mold. Cover with cooking paper and chickpeas to not let it rise in the oven.

The recipe would ask to cook it at a static 170 C° for 15 minutes, but experience always teach ovens are what of most similar exist in this world of hell work, so judge your oven history and control every couple of minutes so not to burn it to a crisp.

For the cream you will need:

5 to 8 lemons (and if your taste require it more)

3 eggs

150 g of flour and potato starch (usually i make half and half, but it can function even with all flour or all starch. All starch is advised if you will want to put the pie in the oven later to roast the meringue, since all flour will liquify the cream at strong temperature)

Sugar to taste

Separate the whites from the yolks. The yolks can be put in a pot, while the whites are to be put in another bowl to use for the meringue later.

Add the zest of all your lemons to the yolks (if you can find not treated lemon, if not this passage will be sadly skipped). Juice your lemons and add water till you reach 1 liter of liquid. Mix your lemon zested yolks, flour and starch and liquid, bit by bit, to have a smooth cream. Add sugar to taste, i personally add only two spoon, but i know the sour taste is not to everyone taste. Put the pot on low fire and mix till the cream become heavy and smooth and dense. Put it in the pastry shell. You can wait for the cream to cool a little, but be attentive at not waiting too much or it will solidify.

For the meringue you will need:

The whites of the cream eggs

200 g of sugar

I strongly prefer Italian meringue, being it faster to make and being myself in a strong enmity with the frenchs. Also, for a real french meringue it would be needed to whisk the whites with sugar and cook them for 12 hours at low temperatures. I know the latest kitchen programs make it seem like something faisable in a short time, and i will always resent them for this, but what they are serving in real is just raw meringue made with raw eggs, and for how much the raw eggs part can be solved with pasteurized whites, it would make for a more expensive ingredient.

For an Italian meringue, you have to put in a small pot 200g of sugar and a bit of water, just enough to wet it. It then have to be cooked till it make a boiling syrup. Be attentive at not making caramel instead, that would risk ruining the eggs. While the syrup simmer, start whisking the whites. When they start to be whipped add, while still whisking, the hot syrup. The boiling syrup will cook the eggs and give a nice shiny finish at the meringue, while the whisking will assure the sugar is distributed heavenly and the whites continue to whip.

When they are whipped enough to not fall out of the bowl if turned, distribuite the meringue over the pie.

If you like a golden finish it is possible to put in in the oven for some minutes, to toast the meringue, or pass it with a blowtorch.

My verbosity could make seem the recipe long and complex, but i can assure is quite easy to make, even in absence of big space. I do not live in a big estate like the ones of the nobles we are sometimes invited for a ball, as my preparing myself the sweet cakes instead of giving the order to a cook probably already made clear, and last time i prepared it i did it in a chopping board above my sink, and it come out quite good.

Hope you will find it as delicious as i find It myself.

With love,

Soupy

#asks #personal asks #soups letter #I’m so fhcking excited to make this pie #never made one of these #lil scary #but it sounds soooooo good #dhsjskskakaka I forgot that ur from like #the uk???#somewhere around there I think u said #my brain didn’t read ur voice w an accent until I saw grams #then I was like ohhhh yeahhhhhhh #I do love a good lemon dessert

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muffcakezzz101 · 4 years ago

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the calm after the storm

‣ part two of the Xiao x chronically ill reader series!

‣ warnings: mentions of death and suicide

‣ note: i’ve been having a hard time making my writing longer and less choppy, sorry if it’s not to your tastes ;-; i’m not on my creative streak at the moment

“An adeptus? Do you mean Xiao?” the woman replies.

“Xiao is his name?” I inquire. “I need to know this Xiao’s location.”

The woman laughs. “Why, he resides on our highest balcony! If you’d like a word with him, bring him some almond tofu and he’ll stay as long as you need.”

I grin mischievously. “Thank you ma’am, will do.”��

---

I silently creep onto the balcony, a bowl of sweet almond tofu in my hands. I place the porcelain bowl on the smooth wooden railing and wait. The languid sun is like a molten egg yolk in the sky, waning and waxing as it descends. Soon enough, darkness begins to shadow the sky.

Something in the air quivers, then snaps. His presence appears suddenly, nearly scaring me out of my wits. However, the surprise was instantly overcome by triumph and returning anger. “I FINALLY FOUND YOU.”

Xiao looks awfully bored. “Oh. It’s you.”

I bristle furiously. “Yes, it’s me, the girl who was carried to safety by some white knight. I never asked you to save me.”

Xiao looks at me with shadowed eyes. “Why is it that you want to die? Most mortals are dreadfully afraid of death.”

“Somebody like you could never understand my reasons. You’re powerful, fully capable of executing whatever deed you want.” Even amidst my rage, tears threaten to spill. “Listen….” I sigh, small crystals falling from my eyes. “I’m sick. Physically sick. My own body betrays me every day. It’s ruined my life. You just found me at the rock bottom.” I finish.

Xiao stares straight at me with those striking golden eyes, yet his body language makes it clear that he’s exceedingly uncomfortable. He narrows his eyes and a pensive look draws across his features.

“Nevermind then. I shouldn’t have opened up like that.” I say, wiping my tears. “Forget I said anything.”

Xiao sighs. “You mortals are very difficult to understand. You already have a limited time in this world, why shorten it? Even with a curse upon you, your life is fleeting.”

Xiao’s words of advice are nothing new. My parents constantly told me to not give up, to get up and keep trying. The thing is, I’m tired. After battling with my illness for years, I’ve grown numb and passive. “I’m not sure I can do that anymore.” I reply in a quiet voice.

Xiao’s eyes narrow. “I’ve witnessed the horrors of war and the darkest points that life can offer. Unless you’ve shouldered the burden of Liyue, you will not take your life. Life is fleeting. Remember that.”

His words touch some sort of nerve in my heart. I guess he’s right, I could be in a worse situation. I was so focused on finding a way to escape, I guess I never considered how much I’d lose. He’s not so bad after all. I lift up my head and smile sadly. “Thanks for putting me straight. I’m sorry for all I said.”

Xiao nods. “That’s good.” The scene is unexpectedly beautiful. An adepti, silhouetted against the dawn; his hair dancing in the cool breeze. His golden eyes pierce the surrounding sky, layering yellow upon pink. When his gaze lands on mine, whispers of the dead and the condemned wriggle up my body, sending shivers down my spine. He’s terrifying. But alluring. Only a god could possess such beauty, I think. I blink once, and he disappears.

As I stand up to leave, I notice the empty porcelain bowl I placed on the railing.

#genshin oneshot #genshin xiao #adeptus xiao #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #oneshot #sick reader #xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n

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sxfterhearts · 4 years ago

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66. [6:04 pm]

“Damn it,” Mark cursed under his breath as the two of you exited the restaurant and was immediately met with menacing grey clouds that threatened to spill rain droplets over the innocent people roaming the streets. “We were supposed to have a picnic by the Han River, but I guess it’s not possible now…” He trailed off, clutching the bag of takeaway dakgalbi in disappointment, his shoulders slumped and his lips forming a deep pout.

“It’s fine, Mark,” You reassured, huddling closer to him as a strong gust of wind threatened to blow you away. You locked arms with his and guided both of you towards the subway entrance.

He huffed out a huge sigh. “I had the perfect date planned, Y/N! We were gonna get dessert at that bingsu place you like, then watch the sunset from Namsan Tower.” Mark continued, his sorrow clearly written all over his face.

“Mark, baby, I don’t mind,” You tugged him along, making sure that he got out his T-money card in time and urged him towards the correct train line that would take you two back to his apartment. “As cliché as this sounds, I honestly don’t care what we’re doing on our dates, as long as I get to spend quality time with you.”

It was true, considering how both of you were final year university students and already had insufficient time on your hands due to the continuous stream of work, assignments, tests and exams. You could understand Mark’s disappointment, though. This was only your third official date after he asked you to be his girlfriend, and he had planned each date meticulously, exceeding your expectations every single time.

Unfortunately, the past few weeks have been tough. Midsemester exams were coming up and Mark was bombarded by emails from the anxious first year students he tutored for a marketing unit. You had to prepare a presentation for your research project as well, and your supervising lecturer had been far less helpful than you’d imagined. Overall, the time apart made you miss him even more. It seemed like it was harder to meet up with Mark compared to before when you were just friends. Previously, the two of you made it a point to invite each other over for dinner or grab drinks together regularly. Now, it was getting nearly impossible to clear your schedules because of the urgency of your respective deadlines. Time with each other was scarce. You found a small part of yourself wishing to go back to those simpler days filled with impromptu meetups and midnight ramen sessions.

Miraculously, the two of you boarded the train and were fortunate enough to find two seats next to each other. “Well, I can’t argue with that.” Mark whispered close to your ears and pressed his warm lips against your temple. Your eyelids fluttered shut at his soft gesture. It had been nearly two months since Mark asked you to be his girlfriend, and you still hadn’t gotten used to his kisses. They always left a tingling sensation in your stomach.

A short fifteen minutes later, you entered Mark’s apartment. Although you had visited his humble abode many times before, you couldn’t help but to linger in front of the shelf standing beside the TV while your boyfriend got out the plates and cutlery. A fond smile worked its way onto your lips as you perused the vast collection of photos he had on display. There were older, framed family photos of the young Tuan siblings standing beside their seated parents, all wearing identically radiant smiles, and another faded picture of Mark’s baby photoshoot. A polaroid photo album that consisted of more recent snaps stood proudly in the centre, opened to a page containing Mark’s favourite polaroids. They were mostly from his trips back to LA with his family and close friends, and a couple from weekend getaways with his university friends.

Your gaze fell upon a particular polaroid that caught your eye. It was a candid shot of you taken by Mark on the night he asked you out. He had sent you a text near midnight asking you to come over for ramen. You turned up shortly after in slippers and an old band t-shirt with your hair messily tied up, the novel you were engrossed in tucked under your arms. As you leaned over the counter to catch a glimpse of his signature dish, Shin Ramyun with an egg (the egg whites for him and the yolk for you), he sneakily whipped out his Polaroid Camera and took a quick shot. Later that night, you nearly choked on the semi-runny egg yolk when he suggested that the two of you should go on a movie date together.

“Babe, food’s ready. Come and eat while it’s still hot.” He called as he made his way to the living room, placing the dakgalbi on the coffee table. “Are you looking at my photo shrine again?”

“Photo shrine?” You repeated, chuckling at your boyfriend’s interesting choice of words.

Mark unveiled the tasty prized possession as you sat cross-legged on the floor, beside him. “Yeah, it’s a photo shrine because it contains pictures of people and memories that hold a special meaning in my heart.” He gave you a lopsided smile as he waved a piece of fragrant, spicy stir-fried chicken in front of your lips, beckoning you to open your mouth. You accepted gratefully. “My favourite picture of all is the one of me lying on the ground with my sister’s baby on top of me.” He continued teasingly.

“Hey!” You let out a muffled exclamation as your mouth was filled with the well-seasoned meat, feigning jealousy over the fact that your polaroid wasn’t his favourite.

Mark laughed heartily, clearly amused at your reaction. “I’m just kidding. Of course yours is my favourite. You’re my favourite human.”

You hummed happily upon hearing that. “Are you sure about that, Tuan?”

Mark’s thumb came up to the corner of your lips to wipe off the reddish stain from the sauce. “Such a messy eater.” He commented as he raised the thumb to his own lips and licked the remnants off. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Y/N. I said you’re my favourite human, not my favourite living thing. Milo still takes the top spot.”

Right on cue, the white fluffy ball of fur trotted towards Mark from his usual resting place in his bedroom, tail wagging eagerly at the attention. “Hi Mi Mi, my baby. I’ve missed you.” He picked Milo up and cradled him in his arms, giving him several loud smooches as the puppy licked his lips.

You playfully sighed in defeat at the pair’s blatant display of affection. You were about to give him a snarky retort when you were abruptly disrupted by a deafening crack of thunder.

Milo padded over to the glass door leading to the balcony, barking furiously at the dark skies. The puppy refused to calm down until Mark scooped him up, babying and distracting him by scratching his favourite spot behind his ears. “Silly baby, it’s just the rain.”

“Great…” You remarked sarcastically. The summer rain usually lasted for hours, which meant that getting back to your place would be a huge hassle. “I’m gonna have so much fun taking public transport in this weather.”

Mark placed Milo down between the two of you and the puppy cosied up next to your feet, nudging you lightly with his head. The sight warmed your heart. You’ve known Mark ever since he got Milo and you’ve basically watched him grow up, but it was always a pleasant surprise when the puppy acted so comfortably around you. “Stay over then?”

You nearly choked on the dakgalbi that was halfway down your throat. A sip of water later, a soft “What?” left your lips.

It was the first time you would be sleeping over at each other’s houses, or sharing a bed, for that matter. Your response was totally understandable. Mark could feel the tips of his ears heat up and flush dark red, somewhat embarrassed that he brought up this topic in the first place. “I mean,” He added hastily. “I don’t want you going out and getting sick. I’ve got a towel and a spare toothbrush. You can take a shower, change into my t-shirt and a smaller pair of boxers. And I can take the couch if you��re not comfortable with sharing a bed.”

It was a very tempting proposal. You nibbled on your bottom lip, silently wondering whether it was too soon for you to sleep over at Mark’s. He did make a strong argument, though, and judging by the violent whacking of raindrops against the glass doors and windows, the rain outside was relentless and wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Staying dry and warm within the comforts of your boyfriend’s home definitely beats walking back in the rain. “Alright then,” You replied finally, putting a nervous and embarrassed Mark out of his misery.

“Okay.” He replied without missing a beat. “Sure, cool.” An awkward air hung above your heads at the thought of you spending the night at his place, of saying good night and good morning to each other in person. It was the next step in your relationship; yet doing domestic things like brushing your teeth next to each other and exchanging kisses filled with morning breath excited him to no end.

“But like,” You paused, uncertain. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch. If that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, totally okay with me.” Mark said quickly, barely containing his smile. He tried to feed you another piece of chicken, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer. “Here, have some more.”

Mark stirred awake as his mind registered a ticklish, cold sensation near the bottom of his neck. Reluctantly, he blinked away the last traces of sleep from his eyes and stole a glance towards the source of his discomfort.

His eyes laid upon your sleeping figure and your face, framed by your mildly dishevelled hair, resting upon his chest and left arm. Your mouth was agape, indicating that the wet patch close to his collarbone was a result of your drooling. A small hand was splayed possessively across his torso, while your legs did a good job of tangling themselves with his. Soft snores were released amidst the chirping of birds outside his window. Despite the fact that he had lost all sensation in his left arm and was starting to get uncomfortably warm from the body heat you were emitting, he stayed as still as possible to admire you for a little longer.

Mark couldn’t stop beaming at the sight. He wouldn’t mind waking up to this every single day for the rest of his life.

So far, he had learned three things on your third date: you brushed your teeth in the funniest and most adorable way possible, you clung to him like a teddy bear in your sleep, and you were a heavy, heavy drooler.

It was almost as if you could sense him teasing you in his head. Just as he was preoccupying himself with counting your long and plentiful eyelashes, your body shifted in search of a comfier position. Mark thought it wasn’t physically possible for two bodies to get any closer, but you somehow managed to position your entire body on top of his.

“Babe,” He croaked, his morning voice gravelly and rough.

You cracked an eyelid open slowly, trying to face him but digging your chin into his chest in the process. Mark wiggled slightly at the discomfort. “Morning.” You yawned, seemingly unaware of your current position.

“Good morning to you too. Listen, I always say that you’re the perfect size and the perfect weight for me, but right now, can you please do me a favour and roll off my body?”

You complied, landing onto the other side of Mark’s single bed with a soft groan. “Right, m’sorry. How long was I there for?” Mark noted with amusement that when you were awake, you were far less clingy in bed. It seemed like you were purposely trying to maintain a distance between the two of you by lying as far away from him as possible.

“Not long, don’t be sorry.” His arms worked its way around your upper body and pulled you closer to him, returning you to your original position. “I want cuddles. Don’t run away from me, you were so eager to get closer when you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t…” You denied weakly, burying your face into his muscle tee. You inhaled a deep breath of his scent, a mixture of fabric softener and vanilla body wash. It was familiar and comforting, which lulled you back into your slumber.

Mark chuckled as he sensed your body relax in his arms and heard your breathing deepen once more. “C’mere, gimme my morning kiss before you fall asleep again.”

Grumbling at the thought of Mark smelling your horrible breath, you leaned upwards to give him a quick peck. He wasn’t satisfied though, and held your head close to his, deepening the kiss with an expert flick of his tongue against your chapped lips. Sleepy and defenceless, you let him have his way with you. It was a slow, lazy make out session, but it still managed to leave you breathless. The two of you smiled in bliss once you pulled away.

“Okay, satisfied. Go sleep some more, sleepyhead.”

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candychronicles · 5 years ago

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stoner // h. shinsou

A/N: My take on the stoner collab! Thanks for letting me join @heroheads and I hope you all enjoy!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,127

WARNINGS: drug use, mentions of drugs

SYNOPSIS: it’s a fight to the top, and once you get there, it doesn’t get any easier. smoking, however, gives you a chance to breathe, and maybe even more.

Want to read more? Click here!

lazy trails of white smoke drifted through the air, creating a mirage of loose shapes and figures. your hand reached up to dance around in the clouds, feeling everything and nothing all at once. your roommate, Shinsou Hitoshi, mimicked your movements, hands meeting in the middle of the milky sky, soft shockwaves of electricity sizzling between your fingers.

you two were desperately in love with each other, an undeniable attraction that was so thick it could be almost physically felt. you met in high school, vying for the top, to be heros, to be greater than you were now and greater than you could ever imagine to be, but you two still fought, making your way up into the ranks. high school was a whirlwind, a shit show, a storm of emotions and anxiety and pain and when you were both nearing the end of your ability to handle everything that came your way, you found a miracle drug.

weed was the escape you could never imagine and now could never imagine living without it. it was a sweet little plant that, used responsibly, created a much needed relief for the two up and coming heros. with your odd quirks, becoming a hero seemed less than possible, but that never stopped you both from achieving your dream, and it was partly in thanks to the little green goddess allowing you two to spend time relaxing and unwinding, both alone and with each other.

now that you two got through the years of struggle and fighting to be recognized, the use dipped greatly, but there were those rare days where you were both off and you needed to unwind a little bit. this was one of those days.

your eyes shifted towards Shinsou, blinking once, twice, three times until he came back into focus. you moved your hand from lazily waving into the air to place it on his head, stroking his soft hair and disheveling it more than usual. his eyes had never left yours, watching your every movement, too entranced by being around you to even think about looking away.

usually, the intimacy between you two was far and few inbetween. there simply wasn’t enough time in the day, but you two made your schedules that way, wanting to avoid time with each other at all costs because you were both too afraid of the feelings that you both had for each other. today, however, was different.

there was too much commotion going on at your agencies, too much stress, too many civilian casualties and failures that piled up and made the feeling of despair greater than normal. the need to be with someone you trust was too great, and so you sought solace out in each other, drawing together like moths to a flame, not caring if you get burned because you’re so desperate to reach that bright light, that feeling of warmth and love.

“Hitoshi,” you started, waiting for him to hum in response before you continued, “i think i’m in love with you.”

he stared at you for a long time, watching as you took another hit from the blunt, watching the tip glow a bright orange. you ashed in the designated tray that you two found at a thrift store, some kids experiment that worked well enough for the two of you. you passed the blunt back to him, watching as his slender fingers gently grabbed the brown paper, puffing on the end of the slowly shrinking log.

he focused on breathing in and out, unsure of what to say or do. he knew what he wanted to do, but wasn’t too sure that it was the best idea. you two were high, absolutely blitzed, and he wasn’t sure if what you were saying was real or just a feeling you had in passing, but he decided after a while that he didn’t care, that he would take full advantage of what you said and see where it led him.

he carefully snuffed the now roach out, tossing it in the tray and finally looked back at you. how fucking lucky you were that your eyes didn’t get red. he continued to stare at you once more, reaching forward and pushing a piece of hair out of your eyes, then cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath before leaning forward and placing his lips on yours.

you took a few moments to respond, not processing what was happening until your brain caught up with your body. your lips moved on their own accord, though, and your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what had happened.

when you said that, you weren’t expecting much. you just knew you were sick of feeling this way, sick of being so desperately in love and unable to say anything, and so you did without thought, wanting to get it out of your mind and out into the world. you somehow knew in that moment that, no matter how Shinsou felt, he would never judge you, and would accept your feelings.

your brain didn’t even come across the idea that he might reciprocate those feelings, and definitely didn’t expect him to kiss you. he tasted like lavender and bud, like fields of green, a breath of fresh air in an otherwise bleak world. his lips were soft and smooth, gliding over yours with sloppy motions, not caring about technique, just wanting to taste you and to have you taste him, to become a part of him, even if only for a moment.

when you pulled away from the kiss, you almost couldn’t breath, wanting to savor the sensation for as long as possible. your foreheads were pressed together, warm skin and humid breaths mingling together. you moved away first, touching his face with your hands, running over every edge and curve, memorizing the feeling of him on your fingertips.

“was that real?” you asked him, not sure of your own voice, hoarse and dry.

he nodded his head and hummed in response, too breathless to respond.

the kisses continued, back and forth for hours, the drug slowly leaving your system yet still feeling high from the sensation of one another. when you were both sober, lips red and swollen from kissing, cold from leaving the window open and yet too entranced to bother closing it, you confessed your true love, all the feelings of desire and need, and melded together, skin on skin and souls intertwined in a beautiful dance.

the sun was now slowly sliding down the sky, a yellow yolk streaking the mirage of reds, oranges and purples and yet that sight did nothing to compare to the beauty of the moment, of two lovers finally becoming one, in both body and spirit.

Tags: @redbeanteax @softforshigi @katsuki-bakugous-lady

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

#shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #bnha shinsou #bnha shinso #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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raewrites98 · 5 years ago

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Runaway Train

For @foxeshaveclaws! You wanted long-distance relationships and surprises gone wrong- it's my first time writing for Andreil and this fandom, so I hope this still manages to live up to that, while staying withing the realm of their relationship :) Thank you for your wonderful prompt! Happy Valentine's Day <3 @aftgexchange *** “Come on, Josten,” Wymack yelled from where he stood behind the plexiglass, “Hurry up.”

Neil grit his teeth. He readjusted his grip on his racquet and swung, fast and hard. The ball sailed across the court, right into Robin’s waiting net as she caught it with practiced ease. He tore his helmet from his head and ran a hand through his sweaty, tangled hair. Fuck. That was the third shot he had missed. (Keep reading here or on AO3!)

“Nice shot, captain,” Jack taunted with a sneer, leaning against the wall. He shared a glance with Sheena, who scoffed in agreement.

It was late afternoon and the team had gathered to practice for their home game against the Breckenridge Jackals this Friday. They had been running drills for the last half hour or so and Neil was suffering. He couldn’t focus. The harsh fluorescent lights stung his eyes and his head pounded viciously. His thoughts kept drifting off into nothing, mind numb from exhaustion. At this rate, Coach was going to bench him.

Wymack blew his whistle, the sharp ring echoing across the court. “Go home,” he said, “You better not pull this shit tomorrow.” He spoke to the team, but Neil could feel the weight of his words as if they were directed at him specifically. He was captain, he should be better than this. He was better than this.

They dispersed slowly, the girls heading to one locker room and the guys the other. Before they parted, Robin brushed a hand against Neil’s shoulder. “Sweetie’s later?” She gave him a half smile. Her wild, curly hair stuck to her forehead, face red and sweaty.

Neil nodded. He went to his locker without a word, sat down and started peeling his shoes off one at a time. Bruises were starting to form where he had been body-checked into the wall several times during their scrimmage. It was a familiar feeling, one that usually offered comfort, but now only made him feel worse.

A shadow fell upon him. Neil glanced up to see Jack leaning against the lockers, arms crossed. He was still in his bright orange gear, golden hair slicked back. “You better not fuck up this weekend,” he said. “I don't want people thinking the whole team sucks as much as our captain.” A few snickers passed through the room.

Neil grit his teeth. He undid the Velcro strap of his gloves. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering how Dan had ever managed this- the disobedience and disrespect from players who thought themselves superior. Even as vice-captain, he at least had been able to rely on Kevin’s demanding personality and fame to keep them in check.

But neither of them was here now. Even the cousins were gone, leaving Neil to start the fall semester on his own. He thought after years of running, he was used to being alone, but his time with the Foxes had changed that. He would never admit it out loud, but he missed them. Badly.

“If you do blow it, though,” Jack continued, “maybe Coach will actually do something worthwhile and give your position to someone who deserves it.”

“Like who, you?” Neil eyed him up and down. Jack was only a sophomore and already thought he was better than everyone else, simply because Kevin recruited him. He started shoving his gear in his locker. “Your defense is weak, you can barely hold your own against the press and, frankly, your personality is shit.”

Jack scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from the guy getting fucked by that psycho Minyard,” he spat, as if the words left a foul taste in his mouth. “Bet the press would have a field day with that.”

Neil clenched his jaw. Fuck this. His and Andrew’s relationship was never a secret, not with the way the Foxes gossiped, but it was private. He didn’t go around throwing it in everyone’s face, and he definitely didn’t need some arrogant little shit doing that for him. “Don’t,” he warned.

Jack laughed, raising his hands. “What are you gonna do? Make me run laps?” He rolled his eyes.

That was it.

Neil’s fist collided with Jack’s nose. It gave a satisfying, sickening crack, blood spurting from his nostrils as he stumbled back with a cry, clutching his face. “What the fuck!” He lunged forward. Acting quickly, one of their teammates grabbed him and held him back. “You son of a bitch!” he snarled.

Neil slung his bag over his shoulder. “You want the extra laps too?” Jack glowered at him. “I didn’t think so.” Neil slammed the door shut as he left, the sound of it echoing throughout the gym.

***

Neil’s phone rang as he was forcing himself through the last of his math homework. He picked it up without checking the caller ID. All these years and he still had the same ringtone. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Andrew’s voice was muffled. There was some shifting and crackling through the speaker, until he sounded clearer. “Heard you finally snapped.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Who told you?” He chewed the cap of his pen and scribbled down something he thought resembled a logical answer. Tiny inked fox paws and exy racquets littered the margins of his paper.

“Robin.” Of course. She, along with the rest of the team, had found out during morning practice, when Jack strutted in with a bruised face and swollen nose. To say Coach had been displeased was an understatement.

“He was asking for it.” Neil shoved his book aside and walked over to the bed. He let himself fall backwards onto the mattress, hitting it with a soft huff as the air left his lungs. He balled his hand into a fist, watching the ugly, shiny white scars stretch across his knuckles. A deep purple bruise colored the skin of his hand. He didn’t regret punching Jack. If anything, he wished he had done so sooner.

“I’m surprised it took you this long,” Andrew remarked dryly.

Neil chuckled. Silence passed. He fidgeted with the strings of his sweater. “How was your day?”

“Long.” After graduation, Andrew had signed a three year contract with Boston’s pro team. He lived there now, in a small apartment Neil had the only spare key to. It hung on his key chain, along with the ones for Columbia and the Maserati.

Neil hummed. “You talked to Nicky?”

“More or less,” Andrew said. “He’s as disgustingly happy as ever.” A few months ago, Nicky finally moved to Germany. The wedding wasn’t until next year, but it was all he ever talked about.

“Good.” A pause. “You visiting soon?”

Andrew was silent for a while. “Not for a few weeks,” he said. “Think you can manage that long, Josten?”

He huffed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure,” Andrew drawled.

He rolled his eyes. He flipped and laid on his stomach, holding the phone in front of him. “I want to see you,” he mumbled into the sheets.

There was another pause, and for the briefest moment, Neil wondered if he had crossed a line. If he had made things weird. This was their first year apart and learning to navigate this whole long-distance thing was frustrating. They weren’t the most outwardly affectionate to begin with.

“Happy now?”

Neil looked up. A blurry, pixelated image of Andrew appeared on the cracked screen of his phone, glasses sliding down his nose and hair damp.

He was wearing his PSU sweater, Neil noted. “It’ll do, I guess,” he said with a shrug.

“I could hang up on you, you know.”

“You won’t.” Neil’s smile grew.

He didn’t.

***

“You sure you’re okay, Josten?” Robin asked as she chewed at the end of her straw, bending it left and right. Sweetie’s was surprisingly empty for a Monday night. A few people lingered at the bar and an elderly couple occupied the booth behind them, but other than that, it was empty. “And don’t give me that I’m fine crap.”

Neil pushed his eggs around, watching how the yolk broke and spilled across his plate. “Just tired, I guess,” he mumbled. It wasn’t a lie. He always slept better with someone near him. It used to be his mom, but over time, Andrew had managed to worm his way into that spot instead. In his absence the mattress felt too cold, too empty. It took Neil hours to fall asleep.

“You talk to Andrew?”

“Yeah.” They had called for another half hour or so, before Neil left to finish his homework. It was fine at first, but their conversation had quickly grown stilted, punctuated by one word answers and long silences. He noticed that was happening frequently lately. Thinking about it made him sick to his stomach. He pushed his plate aside.

“Then what’s got you so fucked up?”

“Nothing.”

Robin gave him a look.

He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s this whole captain thing, I guess,” he said, slumping back in his seat. The leather booth squeaked under his shifting weight.

“Hey,” Robin said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “You carried us through the first season. You’re doing fine.” She offered him a reassuring smile.

The gesture was appreciated, but it didn’t make Neil feel that much better. “Yeah,” he muttered, tearing his toast to shreds.

Robin picked up her pencil and started tapping it on her sketchpad. The book was filled with scribbles and quick sketches of him and the team. She carried it wherever she went. “You know what? We should do something fun,” she said suddenly, sitting up. “After the game. Go out for a movie or whatever.”

Neil considered it. He wasn’t a fan of movies, or anything social really, but the idea of spending another night locked in his room alone sounded excruciating. “Sure,” he said with a shrug.

Robin looked surprised. “Okay,” she said. “Cool. Meet me here at eight?”

He nodded. Maybe it would help distract him, even if only for a few hours.

***

They ended up losing the game.

Earlier that morning, right before their last practice, Neil sent Andrew a quick text.

To: Minyard [6:45am] You watching tonight?

From: Minyard [7:25am] Can’t. Plans.

That shouldn’t have bothered him so much. When he was on court, adrenaline pumping through his veins, the weight of his racquet in hand, he couldn’t care less about who was watching. All that mattered was the ball in his net and the goal ahead. Everything else faded into the background.

But Andrew always watched his games.

And then, when he tried to pry for answers as to what these plans were, Andrew’s replies went from short to nonexistent.

Neil managed to walk the team through warm-ups, but he couldn’t stop the flow of thoughts that forced their way into his mind, whispering of his incompetence as captain, his lack of friends and his possibly dying relationship with Andrew. When the first buzzer sounded and he nearly dropped his racquet, startled out of his spiraling thoughts, he knew it wasn’t going to end well.

It had been a close call in the end though. With thirty seconds left on the clock, Neil soared across court, twisting and turning around the Jackal’s defense until the goal was in sight. He stopped, swung his racquet back and took the shot.

The Breckenridge goalie dove for it and at the very last second, caught the ball with his net. The crowd gave a deafening roar, drowning out the buzzer as it signaled the end of the game.

Neil’s heart dropped to his feet. He stared at the goal, a cold, dreadful numbness spreading through him.

“Come on,” Robin muttered, slapping him hard across the back, “Keep it together.”

The rest was a blur. As captain, he upheld his duty to entertain the press, but didn’t have it in him to bite back against their snarky, provocative comments. Wymack seemed pleased, if not a little concerned with his compliance.

No one spoke in the locker rooms. Tension hung in the air, sharp and uncomfortable. Most of his teammates slipped out of the room without a word, but Jack stopped in front of Neil as he stood. He towered over him, six feet of anger and misplaced arrogance. “Should’ve fucking known,” he hissed.

Neil bristled, fists clenched and ready for a fight.

“Don’t bother, Jack,” one of his teammates said. “He isn’t worth it.”

The door closed and Neil was left alone surrounded by an oppressive, judgmental silence. Sweat trickled down his neck. His chest felt tight with each breath.

There was only one thing left to do. He had to run.

***

The sun was long gone by the time Neil made it back to the Fox Tower. His legs burned and arms ached, but he felt better. Running lessened some of the panic that had held him in a vice-like grip, but their loss still hung over him like a thick cloud. What if Coach was wrong? What if he wasn’t cut out for captain?

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a single car parked under the lamppost. Neil crossed the street and kept his head down as he passed. A few steps from the tower’s entrance, he stopped.

He turned. “Andrew?”

Leaning back against the hood of the car, a cigarette in hand, stood Andrew. He was wearing a burgundy button down and black tie, sleeves rolled up to reveal his arm bands. Under the flickering yellow light, his hair glowed a deep gold, neatly swept off his forehead. Neil swallowed thickly.

“Running away again, Josten?” Andrew took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke in his direction. His dark eyes flickered over Neil’s sweaty, disheveled appearance.

Neil walked over and came to a stop in front of him. It didn’t make any sense- Andrew wasn’t supposed to show up for another two weeks. What was he doing here? Had he been at the game? Neil hoped not. “Why are you here?”

“Take a guess.”

“I thought you had plans,” Neil bit, shoving his hands in his sweater.

Andrew looked unimpressed. “Is that your guess?”

“I don’t know,” Neil snapped. “Are you here to watch me ruin my career as captain?” He kicked a stone, watching as it skipped across the parking lot.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “One game and you’re ready to jump ship?” He tsked, shaking his head. “I thought you were over the whole ‘flight risk’ thing.”

“I’m not running away,” Neil snapped.

Andrew stared at him, waiting.

“I just-” He tore a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay?” Once he started, he found he couldn’t stop. The words came rushing out with a single breath, every thought and twisted emotion he had bottled up since the start of the school year. “I’m not Dan, or Kevin. I don’t know how to be a good captain, and I definitely don’t know how to do it on my own.”

“Then quit.” The cigarette glowed bright orange, another puff of smoke drifting in the air.

Neil scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not that easy.”

“Nothing is.” Andrew reached for him, turning Neil’s chin so he was forced to look up. He stared at Neil, stoic and calm, the deep brown of his irises like liquid gold, holding Neil captive. It was in that unwavering apathy he found himself relaxing, shoulders slowly sagging as his worries slipped away. “You’ll manage.”

Neil drew a slow breath. The acrid, sharp scent of the cigarette smoke eased his nerves. He nodded.

Satisfied, Andrew dropped his hand. He picked up Neil’s wrist instead, analyzing the bruised skin of his knuckles. He brushed his thumb along the row of scars.

Neil’s heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“You missed dinner,” Andrew remarked.

A frown furrowed Neil’s brow. “What do you mean?”

“You had plans, didn’t you?”

Fuck. In his sudden and overwhelming distress, Neil had completely forgotten about Robin. She was going to be so pissed.

“Yeah, with Robin,” he said. “Did she tell you that too?” He wasn’t the kind to be jealous, but sometimes he wondered if she spoke to Andrew more than he did.

Andrew looked unamused. “I can’t believe how incredibly stupid you are sometimes.” He gestured to himself.

“What?” Neil’s eyes flickered over his outfit. Then it clicked. “I wasn’t meeting Robin, was I?”

“Reservations were at eight,” Andrew remarked dryly.

Neil checked his phone. Quarter past ten. He winced. Had he really been gone that long?

He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like Andrew to visit unprompted. Definitely not like this. Not as a ... surprise.

Something else caught Neil’s eye as he looked at his phone. “It’s February 14th,” he said, a slow grin curling his lips.

“He knows how to read,” Andrew said with mock surprise.

“That’s Valentine’s day,” Neil persisted.

“Really?” Andrew flicked the cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out with his foot.

“You know,” Neil said slowly, trailing a finger along the fabric of Andrew’s collar, “I wonder what the press would think if they knew Andrew Minyard was a hopeless romantic,” He stepped closer.

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “One hundred and three percent, Josten.”

He leaned in close, lips inches from Andrew’s. “Yes or no?”

Andrew flicked his head but pulled him forward by his collar. “Yes.”

His lips met Andrew’s in a soft, warm kiss that sent pleasant shivers down his spine. All of his worries faded into nothing and when Andrew’s cool, rough hands found their way into his hair, pulling him even closer, he knew that in the end, he was going to be okay.

#the foxhole court #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #my writing #raewrites98 #valentines day #fanfic exchange #fluff #neil is sad and slightly dumb #long distance relationship #surprises #all for the game #aftg #@foxeshaveclaws

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years ago

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Survey #250

"you’re so pretty, dripping sin.”

Do you plan on having children in the future? No. How big is your house? It's very small. Two bedroom, one bathroom. Do you believe that the world will actually end? Humanity, yes. The planet being inhabitable, probably at some point. The universe itself, life itself, won't, though. Describe your handwriting: Very fancy/fluid, a weird mix of cursive and print. Can you speak any other languages than your first language? Some German, but not a lot by now. I've lost a lot of memory of it. If you could speak another, which would it be? I wanna be fluent in German, but it's not something I pursue 'cuz I guess like... why. I don't think I'll ever really apply it to my life, nor is it something I'm DYING to do, so paying for classes just seems. Idk. What is one trend you think is stupid? I don't care. Let people enjoy things. Do you ever watch any soap operas? No. Do you ever get goodnight or good morning texts from people? Not usually. If I do, it's only ever Sara. When did you last go to the doctor and what for? I'm assuming you mean a general doctor, in which case, I think it was just a regular check-up a month or so back. Are you socially awkward? To a painful degree that I'm incredibly sick of. Can't be in a social situation and not feel uncomfortable even if it saved my ass. Would you rather watch a comedy movie or horror movie? It would depend on my mood, but horror would usually win. Do you know where your family came from? Europe. If you could choose to be any mythical character, which would you choose? Realistically, probably like, an elf or something 'cuz they're pretty unlike me so it'd be a nice change. :^) Where are both of your parents right at this moment? Mom's at church, and Dad is probably at home 'cuz it's Sunday. Have you ever seen a movie so ridiculous you couldn’t watch the rest? Yep. Does it make you angry when people text short messages back? If I'm seriously trying to have a conversation, it doesn't make me *angry*, just aggravated. What is your favorite animal and why? Meerkats. I could write a damn essay on why, but I'm not up for it, so basically, they are just extremely interesting animals with serious fire in a foot-tall body. Are you satisfied with your gender? Yeah. Have you ever kept a successful diary before? Not really. Well, I guess for short periods of time. I'd call them just "journals," though. It was something to do every time I stayed in the hospital, a good, insightful thing even, and just really at my lowest times, it helped me, but I never stuck to it. Are you good at admitting your problems? I think I'm very honest about them, really. Have you ever had a hangover? No. What is something you’re looking for in the next three months? I don't know. What’s something you normally cannot spell on your own? I have trouble with certain words where "e" or "a" could both easily be used (ex., "independEnce"), so I rely on spellcheck with words like those a lot. Looks or personality? Which is more important to you? Personality. Do you know any strippers? I don’t think so. How many times have you dyed your hair? Holy fuck idk. What is something that reminds you of your childhood? Cranium games. Do you think you eat healthy? I think I eat decently. Since I started paying attention to calories, I improved a lot. How would you describe your style of speech? Are you a fast/slow speaker? Do you stutter often? Generally, I think I speak quietly (but sometimes actually too loud, according to Mom) at a pretty normal pace, sometimes kinda fast, but I stutter a lot. When was the last time you’ve visited a family member’s house? What was the occasion? I haven't been to anyone's in a while... I think the last time was when I went to Ashley's to babysit my nephew a few months ago. Have you ever tried to construct a language? How do you feel about fictional languages (such as Dothraki and Klingon)? Not really. One of my old RP friends and I kinda-sorta had this "ancient meerkat language," but it was faaaar from developed. I don't feel any particular way about fake languages. Were you born and raised into a certain religion? What was it and have you changed your religion? Yes, Roman Catholicism. I've changed my religion quite a few times... Well, I don't like "changed." It just developed away from what was instilled in my head as a little kid. How do you usually feel when one of your favorite television or book series end? This doesn't apply to me really, because I haven't been involved in those things for a long time. The only one that I really cared about/was watching when it was current content was Meerkat Manor. I was sooooo so bummed out. That show had such, such, SUCH a colossal impact on my life. What do you like most about your town or neighborhood? Nothing. Well, it's small. Are you looking forward to any upcoming events? I'm obviously anticipating Mom starting chemo this week, but also very nervous. I don't want to see the physical toll it takes on her. What were your first impressions on your current best or closest friend? Lmao it's still funny to this day to me, our start... I just didn't like her. I thought she was over-dramatic and attention-crazed. What would you do if you knew a person that you were not fond of or even disliked, but they considered you as a friend? Would you confront them, avoid them, etc.? "I wouldn’t confront them unless something happened that made it come to a head. I’d try to be civil yet non-committal. It would also depend how I knew them and how much I had to interact with them." <<<< This. It doesn't seem necessary to just randomly walk up to this person and be like "hey you know you're not my friend, right?" Just leave it be unless something occurs where it seems more relevant. What are some things that you do to make you feel relaxed? Listen to music, nap... How often to do go to concerts? What was your favorite experience so far? Not even nearly enough because 1.) I'm not in a position where I can afford tickets and 2.) NO good bands like, ever come here. We only ever have country bands. The only concert I've been to was Alice Cooper, which was great. What is your newest and/or current passion? Newest, uhhhh. Idk man. I have a lot of current passions, but none surpass the Blazing Inferno of Love in my heart for Mark Edward Fischbach. Do you still have a fear that you had held since childhood? If not, how did you overcome one or more of your childhood fears? Yes, dolls. It's really mild now, but still, I really don't like porcelain dolls. What is your favorite type of weather? In general, a moderate snow. To actually be in, ohhhh man, gimme that cool, crisp fall air with a partly cloudy sky, very little to no breeze, depending on how cool it is. Do you watch documentaries? If so, do you have a particular favorite? I love animals docs. Meerkat Manor is of course my favorite. Is there a particular sentence or line from a book that carries a deep meaning to you? What is that sentence/line and why does it speak to you? I'm sure there is, but none immediately come to mind. When's the last time you ate bread? A couple days back for a sandwich. What's the last movie you watched on your own? UHHHHHHHH I think it was The Shining. Great movie, so glad I finally watched it. What about the last movie you watched with another person? Now this I'm unsure about, but I want to say The Lion King (live action) with Dad. What about the last movie you saw at the cinema? Was it good? ^ It was fucking great. I mean maybe I'm biased because it's my favorite movie, but either way, the hate it got shocked me. I know people were upset about like "oh they looked so emotionless" but like... they're animals made in the most realistic portrayal possible. I thought that was very cool. Do you attend school, college, or uni? I'm a college student. What do you study, wherever you study? Photography. What industry do you want to be a part of when you’re older? At least SOMETHING with art, or even animal rescue and conservation. How many girls can you trust? Like, two. What about guys? Also probably two, maybe three. How do you earn your keep? I don't. I don't/can't work (at least right now) and my disability case was just denied for the second time, so, y'know, I'm basically a leech. If you could speak three different languages fluently, what would they be? Not including English? German, Japanese, and Spanish, for convenience's sake. Who do you usually text the most? My mom or Sara. Baths or showers? Showers; baths gross me out. Cheese or tomato? Noooot a tomato fan, so. At least I like some cheese. Shaved legs or shaved arms? ??? I mean I think shaving your legs is more noticeable, but I don't care. I'd only ever shave my legs (I mean unless I had a good reason to shave my arms?), but shave whatever you want, dude. How many coats do you own? One winter coat. What about shoes? A handful, though I only ever wear my sneakers or flip-flops, lol. One word to describe your most recent ex? A soldier. Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? I will only ever fully eat scrambled eggs. Boiled, I'll only eat the whites. Fuck yolk, shit's gross. Have you ever been surprised with breakfast in bed? No. Where, in your current cournty, would you like to live, other than where you do now? Western NC, in the mountains. It's beautiful. Where wouldn’t you want to live? Several places, like North Korea. Do you like snow? I'm a kid when it comes to snow, I love it. Have you always got good grades? Up until college, I did... Do you like sheer clothing? With something under it, yes. List four things about your facial appearance: 1.) It's this really weird mix of dry as hell and oily; 2.) I have blue/gray eyes; 3.) I wear large, black-rimmed glasses; and 4.) I have a vertical labret in my bottom lip. List four things about your general appearance: 1.) I'm fat even though I've worked my fucking ass off to keep losing weight for two years now :^); 2.) I have some but certainly not enough tattoos and piercings; 3.) I'm very pale; and 4.) I have very short, brown hair that needs to be dyed immediately. List four things you like about yourself: 1.) I'm extremely empathetic; 2.) I care a fucking LOT about the people I love; 3.) I'd say I let myself fall kinda easily, yet I'm resilient as shit and will always get back up; and 4.) I'm extremely open-minded and capable of considering a whole lot. List four things you dislike about yourself: 1.) MY GOTDAMN WEIGHT; 2.) my teeth are too yellow for my liking (I've been exceptionally self-conscious of that lately as I've used whitening strips); 3.) I'm extremely impulsive with what I say and do when I'm seriously upset; and 4.) I will, without fail, jump to the worst possible conclusion in any and all situations. List four of your favorite TV programs: 1.) Meerkat Manor; 2.) That '70s Show; 3.) Fullmetal Alchemist (+Brotherhood); and 4.) Deadman Wonderland. List four of your favorite foods/drinks: 1.) Mountain Dew Voltage is my absolute worst enemy; 2.) I will ANNIHILATE the spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden; 3.) the shrimp & cheese quesadillas from Mexican restaurants are not safe either; and 4.) pizza is, of course, rather gucci. Cats or dogs? Idk, I really like both. Have you ever seen anyone famous in the street? Hunty I live in NC, that doesn't happen here. Are you hungry right now? No. What do you think of couples who have entire albums just for them, with pictures of them just randomly at home, doing nothing that really requires a photo? Dude, I love that. Cherish every moment with each other. Make memories, freeze them in pictures. Can you work the microwave? Well, considering it's the only thing I cook in and we've had the same one my entire life (ours is extremely old/can't be bought anymore and is SERIOUSLY durable with time, apparently, as it works perfectly), I know it well. Can you work the washing machine? Heh. Not really... embarrassing as that is. My mom does both of our laundry together, so... but I should seriously still know. She's shown me a few times, but with how abominably horrid my memory is, I forget again and again. There's too many options. Do you like your photo being taken? NO. Have you ever got into a club, whilst being underage? Never been to a club period. How many magazines do you buy a month? None. How many of them are car-related? "If I did, they certainly wouldn’t be car related. That doesn’t interest me at all." <<<< Big same. What about fashion? Well, I'd like ones that offered alternative clothing choices that you could order. Any celeb gossip ones? Ew. What pets do you have? We're about to have only two: my snake Venus and cat Roman. With Mom's cancer diagnosis and both chemo and surgery coming along, she simply can't handle our dumb dog anymore. He's needed to go for a LONG time, so we're trying to find a new home for him. Last gig you went to? Still Alice Cooper. Next gig your going to? Should Ozzy still have his concerts like he wants to after his treatments in Sweden or wherever it is, most likely him. Mom and I planned to, and we will absolutely go if he reinstates them. I'm completely understanding if this doesn't happen though; he has to take care of himself, the poor 'ole man. Bless him. Life's a cruel bitch, giving a legendary singer Parkinson's (it's going to disable him from singing with time). Favorite color? Pink! o: Are you regularly tired? Only always, my friend. Are you excited to live on your own? Completely alone, no. I know it would be extremely unhealthy for me with depression and becoming so easily lonely and unmotivated without encouragement and companionship of some sort. I'll have to live with a spouse. Even then, I'm nervous about it. Living with Jason and our friends in that apartment was both a good and very bad experience; it taught me a good deal of independence, but I still found it very stressful. When do you plan on moving out? When I've been in a long-term, healthy relationship. Do you daydream? Only all the time. Do you dream at night? More like have nightmares/terrors almost nightly. BUT! They've actually chilled some the past few days!! I don't recall what the dream was (but I'm 90% sure Mark was in it, A SHOCKER), but I woke up laughing hysterically recently, Mom told me. So that could only be a good sign. When you’re sick, do you like to be pampered, or left alone? A mix, but mostly the former honestly. Halp pls. But I also want my time to sleep. Are you superstitious? Nope. How many pictures are in your wallet? Ohhh I'm actually not sure. I know I have a handful of my nieces and nephews. I need one of Emerson now. If someone cries while watching a sad movie..do you laugh at them? ???? That is so insensitive???? No???? How often do you change your sheets? I'm... not sure, actually? I know at LEAST once a month (which probably isn't enough), but possibly another time? Idk, I don't pay attention. I just do when I feel it's time to. Is you bedroom upstairs or down? We only have one floor. Is it true blood is thicker than water? Nope. If you could wish someone out of your life... who would it be? Well, he's not *literally* a part of it, but Jason, as far as in my head. Remembering him, sudden memories, flashback prompts, all that jazz are very much daily events. Truly, it doesn't *really* affect me much anymore, it's just so "normal," but it would certainly be grand if he wasn't the most staple person in my head. If you could be with anyone in the world..famous or not..who would it be? HUNNY SWEET CHILD- Are you high maintenance? Nope. If you could change one thing in the world... what would it be? PEACE. JUST PEACE. No war, no violence in general, just. Handle shit like mature adults. If you could star in any movie... which would it be? None. I'm too self-conscious of myself to be in a movie, and I'm a horrible and extremely awkward actress. If you could live in a fairy tale..which would it be? "Alice in Wonderland." <<<< 100% 100% 100%. If you could live in the past..where would it be? The '80s, baby!! If you could see only one person right now..who would it be? Ugh, Sara. I've missed her to death and desperately wanna hang out. Do you wear shoes in the house? No sir. Do you dream in color or black and white? YO! I only recently learned this is a thing with some people, but I dream in color. What is your favorite accent? British. Do you write poetry/songs/stories? Poetry, occasionally. Stories, well, you could easily consider RP that, as we're all collaboratively writing many. Do you wear socks with sandals? gtfo of here with that shit Would you marry for money? HA, no. Do you have any “in the mood” music you like to listen to? AHAHA YES I'M SORRY. Would you vote for a woman president? "If she was a good candidate in my own personal opinion, yeah." <<<< "This. I want to vote for someone who I feel can do the best job. Their gender has nothing to do with it." <<<< Ditto. Are looks/appearances really important? For me personally, not really. Like yes, it's nice to feel physical attraction towards your love interest, but it's a very, very little factor for me, if at all. When you die, do you want to be cremated or buried? Please just cremate me. I really don't wanna be buried. Just taking up space. Do you like to play video games? Yeah, but not as much as I used to, though I wish I did... I think I've watched way too many let's plays to where I can enjoy just fine watching YTers I like experience the game, and I do secondhand while getting some good laughs. Do you like Final Fantasy? Which one do you prefer of all? Oh my god, I wish I was more involved in that series, as I know how madly beloved it is. I used to be obsessed with the demo for FFVIII; my sister, brother, and I would play it like mad, but only Bobby could beat it. The final spider-like boss of the demo was fuckin impossible. I did play a lot of FFVII, which I adored, it was just... so long and by maybe over halfway through, I just drifted from it. I need to watch a playthrough of it, honestly, because the story was so captivating and I genuinely would love to witness how it ends. Have you ever caught on fire? WOW no thank fuck. Do you have a YouTube channel? Yeah, but I don't really make stuff anymore. I don't have Vegas on this computer and honestly I'm just not motivated to really make videos. Do you ever go to video game arcades? No. :( Do you care what people think of you? In most cases, VERY MUCH. Not always, though, but it STRICTLY depends on the situation, big time. Like, I'll walk into Wal-Mart in my pj's np, but there are just a lot of things where I will seriously care too much. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? No. I had one teacher that ALL the girls thought was super attractive, but I definitely didn't have a crush on him... and then later he got fired for sexual relations with one of the students. OOF. Do you like Lady Gaga? I don't mind her, usually. She's got some good jams. "Bad Romance" is legendary. Do you think you have been in love before? Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadly in love, friends. Do you like Edgar Allan Poe? Love him! Have you ever gotten hit on by some creeper? Oh god yeah and it was awful. Do you bless random people when they sneeze? Yep. Do you have a short temper? No. Have you ever had a yard sale? Yes. Do you go to Barnes and Noble for books, the library or someplace else? I go to Books-A-Million. Do you have an iPad? Nope. Are you scared to die? Yes and no. It's the unknown of what comes after that makes me apprehensive. Do you go to church every Sunday? I never go. Do you think you draw well? I honestly think I draw decently. Have you ever wanted to be a meteorologist? No. Do you like Taylor Swift? Not really, and DEFINITELY not newer stuff, but I will rock hardcore to "Picture To Burn," "Safe and Sound" is positively beautiful, and "Love Story" used to be my favorite song at one point.

#survey #quiz #questions

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daysswithyou · 5 years ago

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Fallen Chapter 11: Is this...?

previous / next

Characters: DAY6 Young K x OC (Rachel)

Genre: angst, fake dating, high school romance, fluff, romance

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And so, you do.

You become a regular visitor at the team’s training sessions and gradually, you’ve grown to love the team. You start to care for them like your younger siblings; and you have a particular soft spot for Dowoon because he takes Biology classes with you. All it took for you was a week to be able to match their names to their faces, positions and class levels. Now, after a month, you’re around the team so much that you’re able to match personal belongings to the person; you know whose shoes belong to whom, and whose gym bag belonged to whom. Very soon, you started helping captain Sungjin with his duties – both of you hollering at members after training sessions to bring home their basketball shoes and dirty jerseys. It was a clear indication that you were perhaps spending too much time with the boys, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to show up for trainings, sometimes with food in hand for the entire team. Brian watches all of this with pride from the side line, smiling when he saw how the boys readily accepted you into their tribe, treating you with respect like they would with their biological older sister.

Today, Brian is witness to another defining milestone of your journey in joining the team when Coach Nickhun walks up to talk to you, a sure sign that Coach was also beginning to accept you as part of this big family. Brian’s chest swells with happiness at the sight, letting out a small puff of laughter because his body can no longer physically contain his delight at the sight in front of him. Eyes never leaving your beautiful face, Brian carries on watching your interaction with Coach Nickhun, his smile growing wider by the second. He was completely oblivious to Sungjin’s presence beside him, until the older male decides to make himself known.

“Kang, you really like her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, she’s my fake – ”

Brian pauses midsentence, unable to continue the rest of the sentence. Was he… really about to call you his fake girlfriend? It felt so wrong to label you as his fake girlfriend when it’s been so long since you’ve been acting like one. Ever since basketball finals, you have been genuine with him and the team, lending them support in any way that you can.

The star player turned to look at his captain, confusion written all over his face. Meanwhile, Sungjin directs a pointed gaze at Brain, almost as if he expected this outcome to his question.

“Not in that way Kang. I meant liking her as a woman, as a partner. It feels weird labelling her as a fake girlfriend, doesn’t it?”

For a split second, Brian stares at his captain with a dumbfounded look on his face, not wanting to believe the truth behind Sungjin’s words. He kicked the thought out of his head the moment it dawned upon him, not wanting to let himself immerse too much in this notion.

“Ay hyung~ what nonsense are you sprouting! I don’t see her that way, and I’m sure she does not too.”

Sungjin scoffs at his teammate, in disbelief of Brian’s stubbornness.

“Deny it all you want Kang, but your heart will eventually tell you to the truth.”

Sungjin runs off the moment he finishes the last word, going back on court where he is needed more. This gives Brian time to turn his attention back to you, whom was still talking to Coach Nickhun.

Do I… really like her… in that way? No, it’s rididculous. How can I be in love with her? There is no feelings involved in this, it’s all purely business.

Yet, the nagging feeling scratching away at his chest will not leave him alone, making him more uncomfortable by the second. Thankfully, he’s distracted by you waving him over. Jogging over leisurely, you pull Brian down to sit beside you when he’s within arm’s reach, your kneecaps now pressed against one another. You don’t give Brian a chance to greet you when you interject with your question, talking at quickly at full speed,

“I’ve got an idea, listen and tell me if it’s good. I was talking to Coach Nickhun just now, and he mentioned that he wanted to reward the entire team for winning the championships again, but he was getting sick of just bringing all of you out for a meal at some fancy restaurant. So, I suggested holding a party at my aunt’s café. We can close the place for the night just for the team; there’ll be homecooked food, you can stay as long as you want because no one is going to chase you out during closing. But then again, I’m not sure if this is a good idea, or if the celebration comes too late after your victory. Also, is it too corny or – ”

Brian’s face lights up with each proposition you make, grateful that you even thought of offering up your personal space and time to do something for the boys to appreciate their efforts. Without thinking, he slips his hands into yours, holding on tight before giving your hand a squeeze, affirming your efforts.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea. I’m sure the boys will enjoy it very much.”

Still holding on your hand, he turns back to face the court before hollering at them.

“YA KIDS! YOUR NOONA HERE WANTS TO HOLD A PARTY AT HER PLACE TO CELEBRATE OUR CHAMPIONSHIP WIN! IS EVERYONE GAME?”

The boys take some time to process his words that were shouted over the large expanse of the court and surprisingly, Jae, whom is seated right at the opposite end, asks the most important question.

“IS THERE FOOD?”

You throw your head back in laughter as Brian opens his mouth, ready to reply. But this time round, you beat him to it, completing his sentence for him like a couple would.

“THERE WILL BE! I’LL COOK!”

The entire team erupts in cheers when they hear your answer, all agreeing without the slightest bit of hesitation. Brain watches the happy scene unfold before his eyes, already counting down towards the weekend.

This is going to be a good time.

Both of you continue to watch the team as they huddled together to discuss about their plan for the weekend now that the party is happening. Everything was going well – except that you two weren’t the only witnesses to this event.

---

The weekend rolls around fairly quickly in between school tests and assignments, and the team was all in high spirits when they made their way over to your café, grateful for the celebration and small time granted to them to unwind for the week. Brian, in particular, was excited to see you again, after his last text to you roughly three hours ago. (The conversation ended because you had to busy yourself in the kitchen, making food enough to feed a hungry group of boys.)

The food prepared was all laid out on the table the moment the team came in, your aunt welcoming them on your behalf. You pop your head out to say a small greeting to the team and coach before heading back into the kitchen to prepare dessert, knowing that the boys will be in good hands with Esther and Jae around.

True enough, the duo got the party started at full force, switching between karaoke and games effortlessly in between food breaks. You glance out from time to time, observing the party outside through the small glass panel on the kitchen door. Focusing on swirling the chocolate again, you only looked up when you heard the sound of the kitchen door swing open, loud pop sounds filling the quiet space for a moment before the door swings shut again, muffling the sounds from outside.

Brian Kang makes his way over to you, standing to watch you with his hips against the counter.

“Younghyun, what are you doing here? You should be outside enjoying the party; I think Esther and Jae are doing a great job hosting the party.”

“Is there anything I can help with? I feel bad leaving to do everything alone.”

“Your sling might be off, but you’re still recovering. It’s not a good idea to have you do anything.”

“Oh come on! I can play basketball now, surely I can help with cooking.”

You contemplate for a short while, wanting to reject Brian’s offer to help. However, it looks like he won’t leave until he gets his hands dirty – so you eventually concede.

“Well, I could use an extra pair of hands, but do you know how to cook?”

You raise your eyebrows at him as a challenge, doubting that he would have the time to experiment with cooking in between school and intense training sessions. But as always, Brian Kang is full of surprises.

“Of course, what do you need me to do?”

“Oh~ alright then you can help me prepare the whipped frosting by first beating the eggs. Just the egg white though, no egg yolks.”

“Gotcha.”

Quickly washing his hands, you watch as he walks around the kitchen like a natural, finding all the utensils he needed with ease.

Both of you fall into an easy conversation as you worked on the dessert together, and you watch as he eats well whilst preparing the food, stealing a chocolate chip or two from your open bag whenever he walked past you. You chuckle at the sight, glad that he is eating so well.

“You know, Mum and Dad would have loved to meet you.”

“Why?”

“You love food as much as they do. They would have fed you well if they saw you here today.”

“Really? Speaking of which, I haven’t seen your parents yet. Are they out of town today?”

Your hands stilled upon hearing the mention of your parents, panic flashing through your eyes momentarily. You swallow nervously, hoping that Brian would not have caught on. Steadying your voice, you said your next words slowly,

“Yea, they’re out of town today.”

Wanting to turn the conversation away from this dangerous topic, you glanced around for anything that you could possibly talk about, before you spotted the scene outside and deciding that it would be something safe to talk about.

“This is really nice; it’s been so long since my aunt and I had so much fun.”

“What do you mean?”

You shake your head at his response, not expecting him to question you about your current situation; you were hoping that he would have responded by confirming your statement, seeing as he’s also one of those that didn’t get much time to himself in between student duties and basketball trainings. But now that he’s got the ball rolling, you didn’t find the need to lie to him about your current situation.

“Oh, the usual. Bills to pay, and we’re hardly keeping up with the rent. We almost got evicted and if someone wants to buy over this place, we’re doomed. We’re barely keeping this place alive but…”

You trail off, wondering if you should add in the last part to complete what you wanted to say.

“But…?”

“But we keep going. We keep trying our best.”

You turn to meet his eyes that were already trained on you this entire time, flashing him a smile. It was one that said – It’s ok. I’m ok. You don’t have to be so worried for me if you are.

Brian’s heart clenches at your words, wondering about how tough it must have been for you to hold on, and how much more about yourself that you’re holding in but not revealing. Your eyes seem to harbour more unspoken stories, but he will not pry until you’re ready to tell him. But he does wish that he has the ability to take your burdens as his own; he wants to do something – anything – to help lessen the weight on your shoulders.

Yet when you show him that pretty smile of yours, his heart lightens a little, and he’s able to find the strength within him to mirror your smile, knowing that you’re still hanging on just fine with your unwavering conviction and spirit. He finds one more reason to love you more than he did just the day before – even though he was still blissfully unaware of the fact that this was love that he was feeling.

You’re the first to break away from the sweet moment both of you shared, suddenly remembering the ravenous group of people outside that you’re supposed to serve.

“Let’s go feed them dessert now, they’re probably still hungry despite polishing off the main course.”

You’re the first to push through the heavy doors, the sight of you with a tray full of chocolate cake in your hands a very welcomed sight. The team thanks you with cheers and hoots of appreciation, relieving you of your tray-carrying duties fairly quickly, before decimating the cake and devouring it in seconds. Brian watches this entire scene from his spot behind you, fighting back a small smile when he sees how much you’ve managed to gain the approval of everyone – even usually strict Coach Nickhun is looking upon this heart-warming sight with happiness.

From the corner window, a black figure watches the sickeningly sweet moment unfold, eagerly waiting for the time to come – to rip this happiness to shreds.

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gleek-runner · 6 years ago

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I was tagged by @darkside-cookies-913 who I, if you haven't figured out already, stan more than anything else. What an idol. Go follow.

Rules: answer this q & a. Then tag your five new followers and three of your biggest fans. (I assume based on the tumblr algorithm)

So I shall tag: @moutliaaa @youdontknowmesowhydoyoucare @kalamilamepolutampler @lucieischilling @silver-and-gold27 and @fangirl-daydreamer97 @falloutnikki @drawyourgunsr5

What's your shampoo scent?

Strawberries. Although, because of my hair conditioner, my hair usually smell like honey.

What's your aesthetic?

Empty coffee cups, stacks of cds, broken mirrors, open notebooks, yelling before bursting into tears, stretchmarks, red and black, poetry, new ideas, withering roses, sarcasm, broken wings, crooked smiles, memes and finger guns.

What's your favourite time of the day and why?

Early in the morning because I'm somewhat more happy and cheerful.

What do you like the most at the beach?

The sound of the waves.

What's the one thing you keep stressing yourself about?

The future and what I'll do with my life.

A song that's made you cry.

When I was younger, like one or two years ago, Two Birds had me weeping like a baby. Currently though, It's over isn't it has the same effect. (Honorable mentions: All Hamilton songs, Waving through a window and Seventeen)

Some tips to ease your followers.

Tumblr is not a reliable source. Never. Posts don't solve everything. The world is ugly and will always be. If you however, learn to not give a hoot, you'll be fine. Do chase what you want but don't fly too close to the sun.

Things that make you tear up.

Being yelled at. Failing. Dogs dying. Compliments.

What's your favourite thing for every sense?

Sight: moments before the sun is down when the sky is yellow. Frozen areas. Neon lights.

Hearing: violin and piano melodies. Up-beat music. People singing softly and suddenly going too deep. My dog's woof.

Taste: coffee, cheese and chocolate.

Smell: honey, baked cookies, the smell of home after being away, new books.

Touch: blankets, wool, my dog's fur, pillows.

In which alternative universe would you like to live in?

Somewhere, there's a world where soulmates are real and I would be very okay with that. Unless, we're already living in that world and that's why we wake up with songs stuck in our heads that we haven't heard for some time ;)

What's some problems you face on a daily base?

Failure. Social anxiety. Lack of time. The constant fear of how awful I am both outside and inside along with the self-objectification. The big possibility that I shall never be loved enough.

A scene from a book that always makes you sad?

*spoilers ahead for The Death Cure*

Thomas walked half the distance to Newt, then stopped. The worst part about his friend was the wildness in his eyes. Madness lurked behind them, two festering pools of sickness. How had it happened so quickly?

“Hey. Newt. It’s me, Thomas. You still remember me, right?”

A sudden clarity filled Newt’s eyes then, almost making Thomas step back in surprise.

“I bloody remember you, Tommy. You just came to see me at the Palace, rubbed it in that you ignored my note. I can’t go completely crazy in a few days.”

Those words hurt Thomas’s heart even more than the pitiful sight of his friend. “Then why are you here? Why are you with … them?” (...)

“Just come with me,” Thomas begged. “I’ll tie you up if it makes you feel better.”

Newt’s face suddenly hardened into anger and his words shot out in a rage. “Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn’t you read my note? You can’t do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero, like always? I hate you! I always hated you!”

He doesn’t mean it, Thomas told himself firmly. But they were just words. “Newt …”(...)

“I hate you, Tommy!” He was only a few feet away and Thomas took a step backward, his hurt over Newt turning to fear. “I hate you I hate you I hate you! After all I did for you, after all the freaking klunk I went through in the bloody Maze, you can’t do the one and only thing I’ve ever asked you to do! I can’t even look at your ugly shuck face!”

Thomas took two more steps back. “Newt, you need to stop. They’re going to shoot you. Just stop and listen to me! Get in the van, let me tie you up. Give me a chance!” He couldn’t kill his friend. He just couldn’t. (...)

“You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you? No, I don’t think I did.”

“What happened?” Thomas asked, stalling for time. He slipped his fingers around the weapon.

“I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed. I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all … your … fault!”

Newt suddenly twisted around and grabbed Thomas by the hand holding the gun. He yanked it toward himself, forcing it up until the end of the pistol was pressed against his own forehead. “Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! Kill me! I trusted you with the note! No one else. Now do it!”

Thomas tried to pull his hand away, but Newt was too strong. “I can’t, Newt, I can’t.”

“Make amends! Repent for what you did!” The words tore out of him, his whole body trembling. Then his voice dropped to an urgent, harsh whisper. “Kill me, you shuck coward. Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery.”

The words horrified Thomas. “Newt, maybe we can—”

“Shut up! Just shut up! I trusted you! Now do it!”

“I can’t.”

“Do it!”

“I can’t!” How could Newt ask him to do something like this? How could he possibly kill one of his best friends?

“Kill me or I’ll kill you. Kill me! Do it!”

“Newt …”

“Do it before I become one of them!”

“I …”

“KILL ME!” And then Newt’s eyes cleared, as if he’d gained one last trembling gasp of sanity, and his voice softened. “Please, Tommy. Please.”

With his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas pulled the trigger.

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hookedonapirate · 7 years ago

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A Birthday Surprise

Summary: It’s bad enough Emma was goaded into helping her college roommate throw a surprise birthday party for her boyfriend who Emma hasn’t gotten along with since they’d met. It’s even worse when he accidentally walks in on her in the shower thinking she’s said roommate. Talk about a birthday surprise he’ll never forget…

A/N: This was meant to be a birthday gift for my dear friend @rouhn and it’s way early, but I decided to post the first half to cheer her up. I hope it at least makes you smile, and I hope you can find inspiration to finish your story, Lydia!

Thank you @resident-of-storybrooke and @teamhook for taking a look at it and for all of your help!

Starts with Millian, but definitely ends with Captain Swan.

Rated: Explicit

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Part 1/3

“Crap! We’re out of milk.”

Emma casually shrugs in the entryway sipping her mug of cocoa and cinnamon, indulging in the sugary hot liquid as she watches her roommate frantically run around the kitchen making pancakes. Milah’s trying to at least.

“How can we be out of milk?!”

There’s butter smudged on the countertop, there’s white flour dusted all over everything, including her angry friend and a spot on the floor where Emma can assume Milah tried to clean up a broken egg based on the smeared yolk, glop of egg white and remnants of egg shells.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I told you I can do this on my own!” Milah shrieks in vexation. “I don't need any help. It's Killian’s birthday and I'm perfectly capable of making him chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast on my own, without your assistance,” she insists, adding some ingredients in the bowl, her pale features twisted in disapproval at her unfinished concoction. “I just need to get some milk.”

Emma responds with an eye roll, because how could someone forget an important, yet basic ingredient such as milk? Okay and there may be several other reasons to be annoyed.

For weeks, Milah’s been droning on and on about doing something special for the guy she's been seeing for four months now. And although Emma's been helping her plan his birthday party, adding her input with every last detail—the decorations, the food (not to mention the pirate ship cake she picked out), the invites and even what gift to get him (she unfortunately knows the man better than his own girlfriend does)—Milah won't let Emma help make him breakfast. Don't ask her why because she has yet to fathom a reason.

Milah can't even cook a box of macaroni and cheese, which is why the task of making most of the meals is always left to Emma. But Milah wants this day to be special, and absolutely insisted on making pancakes by herself. So, Emma just leans back and watches her roommate make a complete fool out of herself.

“You know, you could've just made pancakes from a box. They probably would've turned out better anyways,” Emma teases waggishly.

Milah flashes a scowl and sets the mixing spoon down to pick up a rag and wipe off her mess from the counter. “I'm going to the store to get some milk. Killian’s supposed to be here in twenty minutes, but if he does arrive before I do, I'm sure you could occupy him until I get back?” Milah drops the rag and approaches Emma, clasping her hands together, her lips forming a pout. “You two can get along for two seconds, right?”

Emma emits an exasperated sigh as she turns around, making her way out of the kitchen. “Consider him occupied,” she assures her roommate, and at the same time, she's anxious to hop in the shower because she really doesn't want to be seen by him in her current state. She may hate the man's guts but the thought of him looking all gorgeous and cleaned up while she’s in her bathrobe with no makeup and her hair a disheveled disaster—well, she just can't give him that kind of satisfaction.

“Oh, and can I take your car? Mine’s on empty.”

“Go for it. The keys are in my purse,” Emma replies dimly and proceeds down the hallway, wishing this day would fly be as quickly and painlessly as possible.

“Thank you, Em! I'll be right back!” Milah calls out, and with the jangling of Emma’s keys and the door flying shut behind her, Emma is left to her own devices and traipses into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

Seriously though, is the guy worth all of this trouble? He's just a man Milah will probably grow sick of after a few more months anyway. During the year she and Emma have been roommates, Milah has gone through five short-lived relationships that ended badly (on his end at least). Milah is always way less involved in the relationship than the guy is, so when she cuts him loose, she wipes her hands of him and literally has another man in her sheets the very next night. So really, Emma doesn't know why her roommate is going to all this trouble for this one guy. And if Emma is being honest, she feels sorry for Killian even though she cannot stand him. He's smug and cocky and overall a huge pain in the ass. He hangs around the apartment way too much and she can't understand why they don't go to his place more often. And the reasons she hates him has nothing to do with the fact that Emma had met him before Milah did. No, she had reasoned a while ago that she hated him the moment she’d met him.

• • • •

It’s a Monday morning during her second semester of junior year at the University of Camelot as Emma hurries across the campus with her bag of textbooks slinging over her shoulder. It had rained overnight, so the grass is slippery and wet, and there are puddles scattered among the parking lots in front of the various buildings. In retrospect, she should've rethought her outfit as soon as she walked outside and stepped onto the wet concrete, considering she’s wearing her favorite sweater—a white Camille that her mother had gifted her for Emma’s nineteenth birthday—but she takes her chances and plunges through it, her long, golden curls bouncing behind her. The boots she’s wearing are receiving the rough end of it anyway, collecting mud around the edges, but they’re old and tattered so she’s not too concerned.

She’s crossing a small parking lot in front of Cricket Hall, the psychology building, when she's nearly run over by a motorcycle, dodging and falling in a puddle and dropping her bag in the process.

Emma curses, utterly humiliated as she struggles to get up, but the sound of the motorcycle cuts off and there's suddenly a hand being extended to her and bright blue eyes looking down at her. All of the air leaves her lungs and she can't do anything but take in the black leather, dark unruly hair and rough scruff on the sharply shaped jaw of the man who has almost run her down with his stupid bike.

“My apologies, love. I didn't see you.” His sultry British accent and kind words tear Emma from the trance she's fallen into and she shakes it off, not accepting his help as she tries to push herself up. But she's all wet and the ground is too slick, so she falls again splashing in the mud and huffs in frustration. This time, she reluctantly accepts his assistance because, well to be blunt, her dignity’s already been thrown out the window, and she's covered in mud so there's really no way to amend the situation at this point. She takes the offered hand, and the contact sends a bolt of electricity through her body.

He pulls her up as she grumbles under her breath, and when she's finally standing, she quickly releases his hand and peers down at herself to assess the damage. Her favorite sweater is completely ruined. “Shit! Look what you did! I'm covered in mud, my bag and the sweater my mother gave me are ruined and I was supposed to be in class two minutes ago! How am I supposed to show up late, or at all for that matter, looking like this?!”

Emma's expecting another heartfelt apology or for him to at least sound like he's sorry for ruining her clothes or her bag (Shit! Her books are probably ruined too!), but to her chagrin, he only picks up her bag, a scowl settled in his handsome features as he holds it out for her to take. “Like I said, I didn't see you.”

“Yeah, well maybe you would've if you were watching where the hell you were going.” Emma snags the bag from his hand and unzips it peeking inside and pulling out a book that is now drenched from the mud puddle.

The guy only shrugs and replies with, “Yeah well maybe you should watch where you’re going,” before he leaves her fuming with anger.

“You owe me two new school books!” she shouts after him, but he keeps walking away, “and a new sweater!”

“I’ll get right on that, love!” he calls back, increasing the distance between them.

Emma is furious as she watches him casually sashay across the lawn, as if he didn’t just almost run her over with his damn motorcycle.

“I’m not your love!”

He whips around and lifts a flirty brow, throwing a wink and that big stupid grin as though to argue with her statement before turning and proceeding his trek.

• • • •

Stupid bastard.

He never did replace her books, Emma thinks resentfully. Untying her robe, she lets the satin fabric fall from her naked body and hangs it up on the hook before stepping into the shower. It’s hot and steamy, but it feels soothing on her skin as she dips her head back to get her hair wet, running her hands through the golden tresses.

Flashbacks of her early encounters with Killian flicker through her mind as she appreciates the peaceful shower time that doesn’t involve annoying roommates barging in to steal her hairbrush or blow dryer and then using the items in the bathroom while Emma’s still showering. Needless to say, Emma appreciates the quiet moments.

The campus is not even that big, considering the small college town, but Emma had managed to run into Killian several times after he’d almost taken her down with his bike—the library, the cafeteria, the student center—and neither of them were any more pleasant.

“Oh look; it’s the douchebag who hit me with his motorcycle,” she would remark, and he’d always respond with a sardonic grin and make the comment, “Oh look; it’s the lass who couldn’t watch where she was going. I better steer clear and make way for the enchanting princess,” he always teased, whirling his hands around in a worshipping gesture to which she reacted with an exaggerated eye roll.

For the better part of the previous semester, Killian was like a moth to a flame or one of those annoying gnats buzzing around in her ear that wouldn’t go away, but somehow he’d managed to grow on her. Not that she would ever admit it to his face. She guesses it all started when she’d helped him get rid of a girl he wasn’t interested in by pretending to be his girlfriend for a whole five minutes at a party.

• • • •

“Well, well, love; I guess you are good for some things after all,” he taunts sarcastically as Emma removes her hand from his and pushes him away, while cursing under her breath. She really needs some alcohol right now. To think, she could've had the luxury of being in her own home, studying for finals, but instead she went to this party in hopes of forgetting about her upcoming exams on a Friday night before being holed up in her apartment, studying all weekend.

Heading for the beer keg, Killian is hot on her heels, following behind her like a lost puppy dog begging for a bone. She accepts a red solo cup filled with beer that she’d watched one of the guys pour for her and takes a big swig, wiping her lips as she leans back against the wall.

“You owe me,” she mumbles, and he flashes one of those heart-stopping smiles that she absolutely hates.

“Aye, love. I really do.” His eyes are bright and full of warmth, and it’s the most sincere she’s ever seen him, and maybe it’s the alcohol in her system talking, but she kind of likes him like this. “I am truly sorry for ruining your sweater,” his voice is soft, every word laced with apology, and she loses a sharp breath when he steps closer. Their eyes are locked, and Emma gulps, feeling the heat between them as he licks his lips. She definitely does not feel the loss when he takes the cup from her hand, and leaves shortly, bringing her back another beer. “Almost running you over and ruining your things without making it up to you was very bad form on my part.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma brushes his words off with the flick of her hand before taking the drink, their fingers brushing in the process. Her heart flutters (just a bit). Raising the beer to her lips, she downs the bitter liquid in one graceful gulp before releasing a not-so-graceful burp. When she lowers the cup, Killian’s eyes are on her, and he appears to be genuinely impressed and rather amused.

“You may look like an angel, but you drink like a pirate,” he chuckles.

Yep, his intense, stormy blue eyes definitely require the liquid courage she just doesn’t possess in order to engage in any sort of civil conversation with this guy.

And it’s working.

Emma’s actually having a decent time, which she didn’t even think was possible when she was dragged to this place by her roommate, Milah, even though Emma insisted they both had to study. But of course, Milah talked her out of spending a Friday evening working on “boring school shit" only to ditch her for some guy the second they walked through the door, like she did pretty much every week since they’d moved in together

It was nine months prior, the start of junior year, when Emma had offered her small, two-bedroom apartment to the raven-haired coed; they had met in Visual and Cultural Communication class (if Emma told someone she knew what that meant, she'd be straight-up lying) where they sat next to each other complaining about their looney professor. Emma had been low on funds at the time, and was desperate for a roommate to alleviate the financial pressures of college life. The building she’s staying in is located in the heart of the area’s collegiate life, but it’s far more expensive than it’s worth. Plus, she was lacking a female companion before Milah moved in, so it was much more lonesome being on her own than dorm life was during freshman and sophomore years.

“Em, there you are!” Milah’s words sound in her ear as she strides over, swinging her arm around Emma’s shoulder.

Emma can tell her roommate had indulged in a couple drinks as a lazy smile curves her lips, eyes dull and glossy. “I've been looking everywhere for—” Milah cuts herself off when she looks in front of her, seeing Killian standing there with a charming grin on his face. Her mouth gapes open, hazel eyes dancing with intrigue as she stares at Killian like he’s a fucking Greek God or something.

Emma can’t comprehend the effect he has on the female population. Okay, she kind of gets it. The guy is smokin’ hot and makes even the popular, attractive college boys look like a disgrace to the male species.

Killian's hair is artfully disheveled and he has those blue bedroom eyes that definitely do not have a swooning effect. And what is with all the leather he wears?—she has no clue, but if he’s going with the cliché biker look, he’s succeeded and she may or may not have told him that a couple of times when she had to see his stupid handsome face around campus. He certainly wears the leather well, with his sinfully tight pants and his black jacket with a skull and crossbones on the back, which completes the outfit.��

“Em, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Milah asks, towing Emma from her thoughts, and she blinks a few times, gesturing between them.

“Milah, this is Killian—the guy who almost ran me down with his bike—and Killian, this is my roommate, Milah.”

“Ah, so my reputation precedes me.” His smile widens as he chuckles and takes Milah’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, his eyes connecting with hers.

And Emma does not feel the smallest pang of jealousy in her gut. Certainly not.

Milah’s breath is stolen, and she tries to gather words, never taking her eyes off of the British man. Milah’s doing her best to stay calm and collected, but it’s clear to Emma that it’s an internal battle, which is quite strange because normally Milah is very confident with the college boys. She normally runs the show, so to speak, when it comes to the opposite sex. “I—Umm—Em here has mentioned you,” she finally musters.

Emma watches them intently, glancing between the two of them, and she can see that there’s a bit of interest buzzing in his eyes, but he’s also torn as he averts his gaze, staring at Emma and gulping thickly.

She watches as her roommate flirts with Killian, Milah’s cheeks flushing as she laughs at his attempt to make jokes.

Deciding two glasses of beer is just not enough, Emma disappears briefly, but not before Milah hands Emma her empty cup and throws her a wink.

“Thanks, Em. You’re the best.”

Emma grumbles under her breath as she returns to the keg to acquire some more beer.

Killian shares a few drinks with them, along with some laughs and playful banter, but neither he nor Milah drink as half as much as Emma does.

She doesn’t know exactly why, but she’s pretty sure she drank her body weight in beer—she doesn't even like beer. She can barely stand, and is starting to get tipsy when she foolishly attempts to climb on a table to dance, but instead she starts to fall before she's even up on the surface, landing safely in a pair of strong, warm arms with an “oomph” flying from her mouth.

Grabbing his shirt and clutching onto him like he's a life source, she looks up seeing Killian peering down at her. A lazy smile pulls at her lips. “Thank you for catching me,” she manages, her words breathy and slurred.

He flashes an adorable grin in return. “Thanks for being a great catch,” he quips, his words making her heart stutter.

She’s vaguely aware of her roommate or anyone else in the room as they stare into each other’s eyes. His strong, spicy cologne is fogging her already inebriated senses as she presses her palm to his chest, feeling the soft hair tickle her skin, her thumb brushing over the opening of his buttoned shirt.

“You smell very nice,” she mumbles, her smile never fading, eyes never leaving his.

Killian chuckles. “And you’re being awfully nice. I think you’ve had a wee bit too much to drink, love. Why don’t we get you home?”

Emma doesn’t argue; everything around her starts to spin, so she wraps her hands around the back of his neck, tucking her face into his chest. Even though his body is firm and tone, he’s surprisingly soft as she snuggles her cheek into the fabric of his shirt, luxuriating in the warmth radiating from his body and the unsteady heartbeat buried underneath.

Milah covers Emma with her jacket so she doesn't catch a chill in the coolness of the night, and Killian effortlessly carries Emma back to their apartment.

He delicately deposits Emma into her bed when they reach her room, and she immediately curls into a ball, trying to stave off the urge to vomit as she's draped in a sea of blankets.

“I’ll get her some water,” Milah states before leaving the room.

Emma feels the bed dip and the press of Killian’s warm lips on her already heated forehead, but his kiss somehow manages to send a pleasant chill down her spine. “Get some rest, love. You’ll feel better in the morning.” His words are soft and sweet, causing Emma's breath to catch in her throat as she idly ganders up at him.

He’s still hovered over her, so she takes the opportunity to raise her hand to his chest, and the room is dark but the moonlight is draping into the room and she can see Killian’s mouth as she keeps her gaze there, contemplating how those lips would feel on hers. He cups her cheek in his hand, and his touch warms her belly as he smiles down at her. “I think I like you this way, Swan. I should get you drunk more often,” he teases, caressing his thumb over her the apple of her cheek.

Emma’s consumed in his gaze—his touch—and she almost thinks he might kiss her (if he did, she might let him).

“Here you go, Em.”

Suddenly, Killian is pulling away from her, and Milah is offering a glass of water, so she gulps it down, trying to forget the fact she really wants to kiss him.

It’s definitely the alcohol speaking.

Killian stands from the bed, and Emma watches as Milah places her hand on his bicep. “Thank you so much for helping me bring her back. This is the first time I've ever seen her drink so much.”

“It’s not a problem, love.” Killian flashes a smile, and Emma feels the pang of jealousy in her gut, but she doesn’t know why.

“Maybe we can hang out again soon?” her roommate suggests in a flirty tone, fluttering her lashes at him, her eyes full of hope.

To Emma’s dismay, he offers a soft nod. “Aye, definitely. I look forward to it.”

Milah bites her bottom lip, attempting to contain her excitement as she grabs a pen from her purse and takes Killian’s hand, scribbling down what Emma assumes is her phone number. By the time she’s finished, Killian is blushing as Milah kisses him on the cheek. “Great. I can’t wait.”

Suddenly, all of the blood has completely drained from Emma’s face, and she quickly gathers the strength to yank the covers away and removes herself from the bed, feeling the urge to vomit. “I'm gonna be sick.” Emma stumbles and starts to fall, but Milah rushes over, helping her up.

“Emma, let me help you to the bathroom.” She pulls her arms around Emma, holding her up.

“Do you need my assistance?” Killian asks, his voice full of concern.

“No, that’s okay. I can take it from here,” Milah replies and they say goodnight before Killian leaves the apartment.

Emma doesn’t make it to the bathroom and pukes all over Milah’s shoes.

The next morning, Emma is groaning as she slowly drags herself out of bed. Thankfully Milah had closed the curtains so Emma couldn't be blinded when she woke up, but still, her head is pounding and it feels like someone is continuously pounding her brain with a hammer.

She carefully makes her way to the kitchen and slides into a chair at the table where Milah is quickly attentive, and gives her some water and aspirin.

“Morning sunshine.” Milah’s voice is bright and cheery, and it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

Emma vaguely remembers what had happened last night and how Milah took care of her, but she’d been hoping it was a dream. “Did I really vomit on your shoes?” Emma mumbles as she takes the aspirin and glass of water.

“You did,” Milah replies casually, taking the seat across from her, “but luckily I was borrowing yours.”

“Oh good,” Emma mutters, and is very grateful at the moment, practically throwing the pills in her mouth and guzzling down the cool liquid.

“Emma, can I ask you something?”

Oh, fuck.

Judging by the tone in Milah’s voice and the way she’s staring at Emma with her bright hazel eyes, she knows she’s in trouble. She swallows the water down her parched throat and sets the glass on the table, placing the pads of her fingertips to her temples, trying to dull the ache of her throbbing head. “The room has finally stopped spinning, so you can ask away, I suppose.”

Milah draws in a deep breath and stretches her arms over the table, grabbing Emma’s hands and take them into hers. “Look, I’ve been thinking a lot since last night… and I just wanted to make sure it was okay if…” Milah pauses, eyeing her with uncertainty, and more memories of last night flash through Emma’s mind, so she has an idea of what her roommate is about to ask her. “I gave Killian my number last night, but then after he left, it hit me… you always complain about him whenever you see him, but when I joined the two of you at the party, you both seemed… pretty chummy…”

Emma arches a brow, glancing at Milah in confusion.

“It occurred to me that you might actually like Killian, and I don’t want to intervene or steal him away if you have feelings for him.”

Emma would have laughed if she didn’t feel so nauseous. “Are you kidding me? The guy’s a huge pain in my ass. Of course I don't like him. I was only being nice to him because I had alcohol in my system,” Emma makes sure to express adamantly. “I mean, you know I never drink, but I had to in order to put up with him. So of course I don't mind you going out with him. You should.” Emma regrets the words as soon as they fall from her lips. “You’re both single and I could see you were both getting along pretty well.”

A slow smile takes over Milah’s face, excitement lighting up her eyes, and Emma’s throat grows dry again. “Really? You don’t mind?”

Emma shakes her head. “Of course not. You should definitely go for it.” She doesn’t know who she’s trying to fool—Milah, or herself. “Besides, you don’t need my permission. You can date whoever you want.”

“Come on, we are friends; at least I’d like to think so, and I don’t wish to step on your turf or do anything to make you upset.”

“You are right—we are friends—but I promise; you won’t be stepping on any toes,” Emma assures, offering a forced smile.

Milah stands up and hurries over, pulling her into a suffocating hug. “Thank you, Em.”

Regret is coursing through Emma as she lets her eyelids fall shut, sighing deeply in Milah’s hold. She realizes in that moment that she has to stow away any or whatever feelings she holds for Killian. It’s simple. Emma was being honest when she agreed and acknowledged that Milah was correct—a friendship really has blossomed between them, and that is something rare for Emma, so she doesn't want to let her friend down. She wants Milah to be happy. Besides, with her friend’s reputation, Emma figures she’ll be dating Killian for a week before letting him loose like she’s done thus far with other guys she’s dated.

• • • •

Emma could have kicked herself every day since then. She still despises him, but every now and then they're still able to engage in decent conversation like normal human beings, and she is constantly reminded what a huge mistake she’d made every time Emma's breath catches in her throat when he's around. Her pulse speeds up and she wonders what would have happened if Milah had never prevented that potential kiss from happening. Emma's confident that if her roommate would’ve seen them kissing, she never would've given Killian her number or asked Emma if it was okay that she went out with him. Emma muses she would have had more time to realize her feelings for Killian, and more time to accept them. Now it's too late.

Emma sighs exasperatedly as she lathers soap all over her body with a loofah, thinking about what she has to do today. She needs to make sure everything goes as planned for Killian’s surprise party. His friend, Victor, was taking him out for drinks after class to buy Emma and Milah some time to make the final preparations for the party. Then Victor would bring Killian to their apartment so they could surprise him with all of his friends and family.

~*~

When Killian pulls into the parking lot of the student apartments and takes off his helmet, he's a bit confused when he sees that Emma's car is gone—he was under the impression that she’d be there—but he's not complaining. He's looking forward to having some alone time with his girlfriend on his birthday. He's a tad earlier than she had told him to be there, but he figures she won't mind.

Using the key Milah had given him a few weeks ago, he unlocks the door to the ladies’ apartment and enters, shutting the door behind him. He goes into the kitchen, seeing the mess on the floor and the countertop, and peeks inside the bowl. He guesses Emma had been making pancakes and left to get milk, so he doesn't think much more about it. Emerging from the kitchen, he looks around the empty apartment and makes his way towards Milah’s bedroom when he hears the shower running.

A small smirk is tugging his lips as he quietly walks over to the bathroom door, gently cracking it open and hoping to surprise her.

The air is thick with steam as he shuts the door with a soft click, locking it just in case. He unbuttons his shirt and starts peeling away his clothes, trying to be as quick as he can. Normally shower sex was not an option for them because her roommate was always there when he was over, and he always tried to respect the fact that she lived there as well. He and Emma may have gotten off to a rocky start, but he likes to think of them as friends. She can put up a mean front on occasion, but she seems to always be there when he needs her. Milah is great but she is always too distracted doing everything she can to enjoy college life before it's over.

He has a lot of fun with her, but he doesn't see her as the type of lass he'd like to marry. And Milah is certainly not the type of lass to be held down.

Fully naked, Killian grabs the end of the shower curtain, and his heart is racing; he hopes he doesn't piss her off too much by scaring her, but he's hoping to make it up to her. Taking a deep breath, he braces himself before quickly pulling back the curtain and jumping in, stepping behind her and grabbing her hips.

“Morning, sexy.” The sinful, throaty words barely leave his mouth when she whirls around and screams for dear life, and he sees green eyes and wet blonde hair, realizing the woman in the shower is not Milah.

It's Emma.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!” She shrieks furiously, her face white and eyes blown with shock. Killian is stunned in his spot, but before he can move, Emma’s flailing her arms around, frantically trying to push him out of the shower. He stumbles in the process and grabs the slippery shower curtain, pulling it off the hooks and taking it down with him… along with Emma.

They both groan as he lands on the tub floor with a thud, protectively wrapping his arms around Emma's very wet and very naked body. Pain is shooting through him, and the water from the shower head is beating down on them as she struggles to push herself up, almost kneeing him in the groin in the process.

“Careful, love.”

This only pisses her off further and she sinks into him, hitting him in the chest out of frustration. “You stupid bastard! Why the hell would you think it would be okay to join me in the shower?!”

“Swan, it was an accident,” he tries to assure as he gently takes her hands in his, trying to calm her while playfully wagging his brow. “Not that I don't enjoy being on my back, attacked by a gorgeous naked blonde,” (more specifically by Emma, because bloody hell he does) Killian razzes, earning a deadly scowl. “I saw Milah’s car parked out front and I thought you were—” Before he can finish, Emma snags her hand away, pressing her index finger to his lips to shush him. Losing a breath, he's pretty sure his heart actually skips a beat as she looks down at him. He’s quickly pulled in, getting lost in her steely gaze; he finds himself drowning in it. And as she removes her finger and runs her hand down his jaw and his neck and then his chest, slowly sifting her fingers through his matted hair, there's no longer anger in her depths, but still a fierceness hidden underneath the emerald surface. A fierceness that he’s enjoyed since the first moment they’d met. He can also detect the vulnerability and honesty lingering there.

There are no words, only the sound of the water cascading over them, hitting the porcelain tub, and the sounds of their heartbeats and wobbly breathing. He’s vaguely reminded that they are both naked when she shifts ever so slightly and his body is quickly reacting to hers as his hands find her hips, giving her a gentle squeeze. Emma gasps and her mouth is parting softly as they get caught up in a challenging stare, both of them trying to see who’s bold enough to make the first move.

Swallowing thickly, he wonders what it would be like to kiss those soft, wet lips; he's often dreamt of this with no intention of acting on his desires. He licks his lips, and before he can even act, Emma’s cupping his jaw in her hands, crushing his mouth with hers and pressing her body into him. A rough groan rips from his throat as he finally feels her soft wet lips; she tastes more decadent than he'd imagined. And she smells like strawberries and cream and tastes like cinnamon and chocolate. Her tongue sweeps across the seam of his lips demanding entrance that's he's more than willing to give her. He wraps his arms around her, parting his mouth invitingly and letting her tongue dance wildly with his.

He knows this is completely wicked and wrong, and he's going to hell—she is not Milah after all—but he's high on all of the sensations and feelings and emotions coursing through him. Everything he's harbored inside for this woman has suddenly bubbled to the surface, and the unspoken desire that has sizzled between them for many months has popped and is now speaking volumes.

Her naked breasts are pressed to his chest, pink nipples erect against his hair as they devour one another, completely consumed. Emma's tongue is insistent, greedily exploring his mouth, her hands clutching onto him as she writhes in his arms, ignoring the water hitting her back.

Killian playfully nips on her bottom lip and she responds by grinding into him, pressing her center against his groin to egg him on. Groaning roughly as her wet folds are continuously gliding along his length, he’s completely overtaken with pleasure. His hands begin roaming her slippery body on their own accord, pulling her closer and caressing her back, her hips, the sides of her breasts, feeling the beads of water pooling underneath his fingertips. Emma moans in delight, feeling his shaft harden against her, and that's when he forces himself to rise from the cloud of lust he's caught up in.

He gently pushes her away, tearing his lips from hers and catching his breath as his eyes widen in panic. “Emma… we can't do this.”

Shallow pants fill the air surrounding them, and Emma's lips are swollen and her eyes are painted with lust, but she offers a reluctant nod. “I know.”

With that, Emma carefully pushes herself off and grabs Killian’s hand, helping him up. They try not to stare at each other directly, for fear of giving into temptation again, but Killian is still hard as rock… and apparently Emma is not finished with him yet. He tries to avert his gaze but he can feel the burn of Emma's lustful stare seeping into his bones, and before he knows what's happening, Emma is on her knees, her hands sliding down his hips, reaching his thighs and she’s running her tongue up his length.

“Oh fuck…” Killian melts a little, trying to keep his knees from buckling underneath as Emma curls her fingers around his erection and starts stroking him up and down, dragging the skin and muscle in her endeavor as she tightens her hold, causing him to harden further.

“Just relax,” she murmurs in a soothing voice.

His breathing is moving in a slow, shallow rhythm as he peers down at her, catching those beautiful glowing eyes clouded with lust.

“You don't have to do anything. Just let me take care of you.” Again, she slides the flat of her tongue along his fully hard cock, her eyes locked with his.

“Emma…” he attempts to argue, but his mind is foggy with heat, the water is cascading down her perfectly rounded breasts making his cock twitch and he’s too aroused; Emma's tongue feels way too good.

“Shhh shhh shhh…”

His pupils are dilated as he watches her intently, his hand affectionately caressing her cheek, but he doesn't stop her.

Firming her grip on him, she slowly moves her hand up and down, squeezing slightly at the base before relaxing at tip and repeating over and over again. His dick is throbbing painfully in her hand as she smirks and kisses the velvety head. “Just consider this a birthday present,” she insists; her voice is seductive—completely wrecked with desire—her emerald eyes piercing through his soul as she awaits for some sort of signal of approval.

Deciding that he doesn't possess the willpower to resist her, no matter how wrong this is—he is dating her roommate and best friend for crying out loud—but he has longed to be with Emma for quite some time, and finds himself nodding to her request.

Emma grins mischievously before wrapping her red, swollen lips around him, suckling idly on his belled tip and lapping at the slit with her broad tongue.

“Bloody hell.” The whispered words are cracked with desire as his body shudders, surrendering to this striking blonde goddess who’s kneeling before him. He leans his head back against the shower wall as she takes him in her warm mouth, slowly devouring his length.

“Gods, that feels so good Emma, keep go—keep going” he grunts roughly before gently sinking his fingers into her wet tresses.

Increasing her speed, Emma loosens her jaw even further, massaging his balls gently with her hands and bringing him closer to the edge. “Bloody hell, woman. You're trying to kill me with that wicked mouth of yours,” he whimpers, and begins rocking his hips, tangling her wet golden strands around his fingers without forcing her on him as he hits the back of her throat. He's so caught up in her wonderful mouth, her amazing tongue dragging along his length; he completely loses his mind to the pleasure she's bringing him.

Sensing he is almost there, she starts humming around his cock, creating vibrations and is rewarded with a deep groan. His eyes roll to back of his head, feeling his orgasm approaching with rapid force as she takes him over and over, drawing his cock in her throat as deeply as she can. The pressure’s building, and his body is overwhelmed with heat; he's completely unwound as he lets himself go and thrusts his hips at a maddening pace, his hot come exploding into her mouth as he curses her name.

“Fuck, Emma…” He can barely manage the strangled words as he slumps against the wall, attempting to catch his breath and waiting for his heartbeat to slow. His hips are stuttering, his body wincing as Emma sucks on his tip swirling her tongue roughly around the head and licking the last remnants of his orgasm. Killian clutches onto her shoulders for extra balance, trying to keep his wobbly legs from collapsing underneath him as she rises and presses her lips to his ear whispering, “Happy Birthday, Killian.” Emma steps out of the shower, and he quickly feels a shiver from the loss as he tries to gather his wits.

Bloody hell.

Happy birthday, indeed. He's so fucked, but what a birthday this is already turning out to be.

#cs ff #cs ff au #college au #cs smut #Captain Swan #love triangle #a birthday surprise #my fic

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ullights · 3 years ago

Text

Death dreams dark dreams dead dreams

This morning it was cold again. It just happened. From summer to winter. Heater on in the bathroom, shower temperature approaching reasonable at its lowest setting. I felt tired, even though I had a good night’s sleep. I woke at 6am too excited about having eggs on toast for breakfast to go back to sleep. I just had to get up and make it. Fried eggs, soft yolk, brown bread. Lots of butter, a little bit of hot sauce. I sat at the kitchen table eating them with a cup of hot back instant coffee. Only then could I think about going back to sleep again.

There are sharp thoughts in my mind that I can’t look at.

I can brush against them, turn them, but I can’t see them. Not really.

The doors to them have no handles, but would swing open with one wet touch.

Opened, I’d find them not sharp but tubelike, and forever-falling.

I feel sort of guilty but with distance I just don’t care about any of these people any more. The things they talk about, their successes, they used to be mine too. I feel like the part of me that would be energised by all this is just gone. Was it false?

One step away

It drags and draws

Orange and hot

A silent heart attack

A locked bag

Breathing burnt plastic

Before a deep fall

At the edge of your fingertips and the corners of your mind

No struggle no suspects no victim

Feel it pounding in your ears

I can’t see Canary Wharf. I can’t even see it’s airplane shipwreck light. It’s decided not to get light today and I don’t feel light either. It’ll have to come from within me if I’m to get through to the solstice. Hang on to the rails. Avoid the rocks.

At night you are run against the sluice, sucked between its violent teeth and shattered,

dragged down in swollen spirals until

one day you break the gasping surface and it seems you can escape its pull

but then, wrapped in the memory of weeds

you are flushed back into the flow

I’ve been frozen all winter. Waking up, brushing my teeth, staring at a laptop or staring out of the window, brushing my teeth, sleeping. When brushing your teeth is one of the more memorable moments of the day things are getting really dire. I’m so sick of it. Brush, brush, brush.

I swallowed my teeth carefully, one at a time; kept them safe in my gut.

I am blunted now, and heavy with the weight of them.

Everything is new; my day gums, my world liquid. At night when I roll they rattle, and I wake in freezing sweats.

But, at last, when I see you I can smile, sure that I keep my secrets to myself.

I got shipwrecked again, like I said I wouldn’t. Floundering about in the rocks, rolling about in my room. And I got through it, just.

Point is now I’m not sure what’s on the other side. A change needs to be made somewhere. Without any distractions everything just feels pointless. This is not wallowing in it. I have accepted this and am choosing to investigate it. The sky today is white. It’s 4 degrees in April.

So the change. Find meaning or accept there is none. Perhaps if there is none then the pressure is off.

The path is shaded. The branches of winter firs reach across it. The air is thick with pine. Stay here. Rest. Or take a few steps forwards. Just follow the path.

In the slaughter markets it

Feels like you’re walking through treacle ‪the

Air is sickly sweet and heavy and

slow.

Shoppers and supplicants pour over themselves in throngs and

The floor is so sodden that you find your kneecaps are stuck solid while

Pig faces stare down at what you’ve bought.

Is four eggs too many to eat in one day? It feels excessive. The sun’s out today and the high street has thrown open it’s doors to the maniacs and forced shut ins of the Forest. A sad old man in the barbers made me revaluate my life. His daughter’s boyfriend has moved in with him. He hates him. “Throw him out”, says Mozart the barber. He can’t throw him out, he’s a boxer man. The old guy is close to tears. “Don’t put him in the will”, says Mozart. “Don’t let him make you put him in your will.” The haircut was twenty pounds which is more than usual.

Sometimes they sing to me in colour, of exotic places I will never go.

I listen to them whisper, singled shelled, of the sea and of the shore.

Through glass they sit and watch me; snails and clams, chiton and tusk. If I could touch them I would see your future in their whorls.

I search the barren sands and dredge the stinking pools, but still, after all these years, I cannot find my own.

You can strip away everything and get comfortable with the core of what’s left. The challenge is putting and the pieces back together again. They feel like baggage. I felt more myself than I ever have been last year, and now I have to add all these weights back on. Why is that? I can’t tell if I was sleepwalking through 2020 or just totally at peace. It feels like my life doesn’t fit anymore. It’s not the right size. It feels second hand. Musty.

My friend asked his class at school for me; what should you do if you feel that life is meaningless? My favourite answer was; it is. The second best was go back to the fork in the road and choose another path. Where was my fork in the road?

There is language that we have not invented yet.

We don’t have the words and we don’t have the vowel sounds.

There is

eye contact, when to look away and

how long to hold

a touch.

Catch your breath and see what noises our tongues can form.

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cutiecrates · 4 years ago

Text

Cutie Reviews: NMNL April 20

DX I’m semi-bedridden today. I’m not feeling very well, but I really wanted to get this done and I thought maybe it would take my mind off of it.

“Spring is coming! In Japan the season of cherry blossoms and around the world, the season of Easter, colorful flowers, and cute animals. No matter where you are, we got you covered with cute, practical, and fun Japanese & Korean beauty products inspired by Spring and Easter!“

Glam Gift and Contest Prize

Compared to our usual contents, I felt like both of these sets were kind of... boring/subdued. They’re not cute or really decorative, but I like how they were made to represent the cherry blossom aspect of Spring.

Horoscope

This month, the horoscope recommends makeup looks or cosmetics for Spring:

Aries - Red lipstick

Taurus - Dewy skin

Gemini - Glitter eyeshadow

Cancer - Orange/Coral makeup

Leo - Soft pink makeup

Virgo - Nude makeup look

Libra - Glossy lips

Scorpio - Artistic makeup look

Sagittarius - Pink blush

Capricorn - Colored eyeliner

Aquarius - Orange lipstick

Pisces - Lavender eye-shadow

For anyone unfamiliar with my blog, I’m a Libra :P I think I got off pretty easy, I’m not a big fan of orange/coral cosmetics.

Mirror Stickers

Our first item is this unique set of thin mirrors with a sticker backing, so you can place them on various surfaces; such as your phone, or maybe on a notebook, door, etc. They are water resistant, and each features adorable touches of My Melody.

I think this is a really cute idea x3 pocket mirrors can come in handy some times, like when you’re in a hurry. So an even smaller mirror you can virtually put on anything for any time is probably even more versatile.

Diamond Sponges

Makeup sponges can be ones best friend when applying a full makeup look, they help apply it more smoothly, and they feel nice.

You can also use them to make little squishies if you don’t plan on using them for that purpose :3

FGO x Sanrio Lip Gloss & Momocos Cheek Lip Cream

Our pair of cute cosmetics, first up is another item from the Fate Grand Order x Sanrio collaboration set. If you’ve seen my past reviews, you might recognize it, we’ve had two other pieces so far. There are 6 variations of this product, based on each character.

So... basically, all I could say is that this is cute. I really like the packaging and design, but in my honest opinion the actual product is kind of a letdown. It has no scent (not a good one anyway), it’s pretty sticky on the lips, it feels very generic. But the brush feels nice on the lips and it does it’s job, and there actually was a tiny amount of colorant.

- - - - -

Our other item in the picture is from momocos, a brand that started to pop up two years ago I think. This is a lip and cheek cream product, available in 4 different shades: Cocolon Pink, Varity Orange, Birthday Red, and Talk Talk Pink.

I like the concept of lip and cheek items, but they have a hard time working for me. I either get a color that doesn’t look good, or the product itself won’t apply smoothly, I guess because of my dry skin. But I was pleasantly surprised to see how much I enjoyed this one. The color I got is Cocolon Pink, which is nearly reaching a coral-ish tone and I feel unsure if it’s really for me still, but I don’t hate it. I also think it makes a cute cheek color when thoroughly blended. My skin also doesn’t feel like there’s anything on it, and it doesn’t seem to be patchy or anything.

I’d recommend one of these if you can find it in a color you like.

Nemune Bath Powder & Rabbit Sheek Mask

It’s been a while since we got a bath powder/Nemune product, and this one was produced specifically by a scent expert to combine the lovely scents of lavender and citrus, with the intent of calming one before bed to endorse a restful nights sleep.

Sounds lovely, and I don’t doubt that because I really liked their lavender powder I got a while back. But, I didn’t want to open this before using it so I didn’t just yet. The thing is, I prefer to take baths or showers in the morning, and I feel that something like this might not be the right thing to use at such a time. I might try a foot soak or something with it one of these nights though, I think that would be equally nice given this winter weather.

- - - -

Our other item is an adorable pink bunny face mask, made to help control sebun, reduce or keep away wrinkles, and soothes the skin. It features a cute bunny design and has a lovely scent; it’s one that I often bring up, but I can’t identify it.

A typical face mask I’d say. But I really liked it, it was not only fun to wear but it smelled good, and besides being a bit of a pain to unfold, it stuck to the skin very well and left it feeling smooth~

Tony Moly Egg

Our next item is one I’ve seen before, but I never would have considered trying it if I didn’t get it in the box. There are 2 types available, either the Pore Steam Balm or tightening cooling pack. I got the pore steam balm, which is infused with charcoal powder and sea salt to purify the skin from dirt and blackheads, along with vitamin E and egg yolk extraction for hydration. All you do is apply it for 3-5 minutes, then as it turns white you wash it off.

It has a lovely citrus scent, call me silly but I was a little antsy about using egg products, since I don’t really like eggs much (except for egg sushi, that’s really yummy~), but from what I’ve heard/seen, these don’t usually smell like egg at all. Thank goodness.

I really like the design x3 it’s pretty cute how they made the yolk part the lid. The dryness of my skin worsens during winter, so I have to put more care to try lessening it. It made my skin feel very good, especially when I used it prior to this next item.

Miracle Egg Sleep Pack

Firstly, I just want to say that I fell in love with this packaging! Doesn’t it look cute and fun?

This is a product from the brand Lassie’ El, and you get 2 of them to use per-pack. It’s very simple to use, you just loosen the little built-in spoon and mix the gel and cream inside together, then you apply it to your face. You don’t even have to rinse it off because it soaks into the skin.

I like using night products like this, they’re a lot of fun x3 I have one based around bubble tea that you mix the product and bubbles together and apply, but I tend not to use it too often because I don’t like how my face sticks to everything. I’m also not big on having to rinse it off, it’s always been something that I don’t particularly enjoy doing.

Anyway, that wasn’t an issue with this one! I was very surprised by how unsticky it actually was after I applied it, my face wasn’t making my pillow sticky or anything. It also has a very perfumey sort of scent that I love! I have something in this scent, but I couldn’t exactly recall what it was.

I’d seriously recommend these last two products!

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 5 out of 5. I liked everything, it was really fun and/or cute. There was maybe one item I wasn’t entirely satisfied with but that’s pretty much it.

Theme: 3.5 out of 5. A couple of the items featured Eastery things, like bunnies and eggs. I’d also say that the non-related items featured cute colors, which goes with Easter too. But I think maybe they could have done a smidge better.

Total Rank: 9 out of 10. Other than some slight improvement to the theme matching with the items I feel like this box was really good! We had a nice bit of variety in the content, everything essentially works, I recommend a lot of things but the two egg items would definitely be an extreme recommendation!

Also, it turns out I was right. Now that I’m finished with this, I don’t feel sick anymore x3 so I won’t have to spend my day in bed like I thought~

#nmnl #cutie reviews

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