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papurgaatika · 21 hours ago

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Keep A Leftover Light Burning

Pairing: joel miller x Ceramicist! reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORKS PLEASE !!

A/N: howdy howdy and welcome all now this is a very special fic for @burntheedges for the @pedrostories secret santa event!! I hope you like it and find it as fun as i did. I think this isnt a trope that we see very often, but after a healthy dose of tiktoks (and watching the scene from ghost again) this came into being. As always thank you to my beloveeeeeeed @carlynkurin for beta reading, and peace and love on the planet earth from me, xoxo Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! tags: Ceramicist reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), publicish sex, strangers to lovers, lots of wet clay, joels arms require their own tag Word count: 3.4k Summary: Sarah forces joel to go take a day to himself, pushing him in the direction of your pottery studio. Despite calling yourself professional and priding yourself on your morals, you can’t help but… fantasize about the man in front of you.

Joel needs to take time for himself. He’s always on, always ready to go at the flip of a switch, never taking time to sit and breathe. Everyone knows how hard he works, and despite what he says, Sarah knows that he needs to do something calming. Something that doesn’t involve carving wood or going to the shooting range with Tommy on the off chance that both of them are free for long enough. So being the perfect daughter that she is, she enrolls him in a ceramics workshop that she had gone to once. It was a small studio, tucked away next to the Palace Theatre in downtown Georgetown, soft and quaint in the suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Sarah managed to get a hold of you over the phone and explain the situation, a smile threatening to creep onto your cheeks at the sheer amount of care she had for her father. You tell her not to worry about the price and that you would stay open for an extra hour next weekend just to get him in, a squeal on the other side is all the confirmation you need as you pencil it into your schedule.

Sunday rolls around and Joel… Well, he was being Joel. Stubborn and groaning as Sarah essentially pushes him out the door to make the drive up IH-35, complaining about “I build things for a living,” and “it’ll be a waste of time.” but Sarah is hearing none of it and one look from her has Joel slipping on his boots. In any other circumstance, he would have praised her for holding her ground, but right now he just sighs and gets into his truck realizing just how much of his stubbornness had rubbed off on her.

He ends up at the studio just before 5, the sun starting to dip under the horizon, casting beautiful pinks and oranges around the sky. He’s still bitching and moaning as he makes his way to the building, taking a deep breath as he steps inside. You barely even hear the jingle of the little bell above your door, too busy fighting with your sink: now clogged with clay from your last class with 3 kids under ten who didn't understand that when you told them not to dump clay inside the sink. You had meant it. “Fucking thing!” you groan, poking a paintbrush into the drain, hoping to get enough clay out of it so that it would run again.

Joel stares at you, half confused and half amused with the scene in front of him; your hair a mess, your apron covered in clay and paint, hacking into your sink in ways that he knows won't do you any good. He clears his throat after watching you struggle for about 30 seconds, stifling a smirk when you jump and look back at him. “Need some help? I’m s’possed to have a class now- my daughter-” he shakes his head at the idea of sharing the whole story again “Did I get the wrong time?”

You look absolutely mortified, dropping the paintbrush in the basin and giving the man in front of you a weak smile “No! No, I just got a little... occupied… you’re on time” You wipe your hands on the front of your apron, not even bothering to attempt to fix your hair, before walking over to greet him. Properly this time. “You must be Joel. Your daughter was very persuasive on the phone.”

Joel’s smirk shifts into a full-blown smile at the mention of Sarah, the pride he has for the girl shining through. “Yeah, she’s a good one.” he praises. Despite his reluctance to listen to her advice, he knows just how good her heart is, and how much she cares about him. I “Ain't sure what she told ya, and to be honest she hasn't told me what I'm s’possed to be doing here either”

You can't help but smile at his words, the pure adoration for his daughter combined with the slight nervousness in his voice was endearing in ways you weren’t sure how to describe. “No worries, I promise it isn’t anything scary.” You glance around the studio. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, the soft lighting of the different lamps inside the building casting the both of you in a warm glow. The glaze on the ceramics you had on display was a wide assortment of colors: intricately painted motifs, bright splashes of colors, silly cartoons, almost anything you could think of. You pick up a faded apron and hand it to him, watching him stretch as he puts it on. A brief flicker of guilt passes through you as you ogle him, but then you see the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt and the guilt gives way to something primitive.

He turns back around and you look away with a cough, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks when he raises his brows at you. “Right um-” you stumble over your words, more unrefined than you would have liked to be “Sorry, sorry. We’ll start with choosing what you’ll want to make. I always recommend something easy, like a bowl or a spoon rest..” you pick up a pencil cup that had been painted to look like a pencil and a spoon rest that was a simple blue color, to show him “I already have the clay prepped so we can get started straight on th-”

Joel cuts you off as he glances around the studio, pointing at a lidded cookie jar “That one.” His words leave no room for argument but certainly bring questions up to the surface. “I'm gonna do that one.” You had been making ceramics for years, starting with air-dry clay in school, continuing to use the wheel throughout university, and eventually quitting your day job to start the studio. You knew the skill level it took to make a jar, the precision and technique to keep it balanced, and it just wasn’t a beginner project.

“I'm sorry, the cookie jar?” You try not to let your voice betray your disbelief. It wasn't that you lacked faith in the man in front of you, you made sure to be confident in all of your clients, it was simply an issue of skill. “I don't know if that’s the one for you to start out with, it’s a little advanced-”

But Joel was having none of it. If he was going to be forced to sit here and make something to “calm him down” then damn it it was going to be something that takes skill and effort. Something that he could bring home to Sarah and brag about slightly. Was it a little strange that he wanted to one-up his daughter and prove that he didn't need to be here? Maybe a little bit, but he didn't dwell on it. “Yes ma'am.” His voice is set in the decision. “I'm sure it can't be that bad, let me at it.”

Never one to truly tell people no, you simply nod and get the prepared clay out. It was soft and slippery, staining your hands a taupe color as you brought it to the wheel, plopping it down on the wheel, and pressing down on the sides to make sure it stuck. “Alright, so with the jar..” you gesture for him to take a seat in front of the wheel, moving to stand behind him “It’ll be a little bit more involved than something simple, but you're in good hands I promise.” Your words are soft, and frankly, you were excited. You didn't throw fun projects with clients as much as you’d like to anymore, focusing more on teaching the basics, so this was honestly a welcomed surprise. “We’ll just start with getting the basic shape of it, you’ll take your hands like this, and we’ll work it up.”

You sit on your stool behind him, usually, you’d be able to reach around and help with hand placement but good god was he broad. You adjust and readjust your position a few times, finding it oddly difficult to find the right mix between comfort and functionality, eventually ending up with your legs spread a little bit past their comfort level, so that you could lean over his shoulder and help him with the shaping. You squeeze some water onto his hands, moving them to cup the base of the clay and pop the wheel to life. His hands were big under your smaller ones, the roughness contrasting both the soft clay and your skin. You can't help but feel a twinge of something stirring inside you as you help him bring the clay up and down, your hands guiding his. Joel’s brows were knit together in concentration, both endearing and attractive as you watched him focus on the clay. The movements of his hands under yours were careful, almost hesitant, his eyes peeking back at you every so often for assurance.

Once the clay was at an appropriate size you moved your hands off of his, the wheel slowing to a stop. You swear that you see his hands twitch to stay under yours, but your mind might be playing tricks on you. “Now call me unartistic but this ain't really lookin’ like a cookie jar yet.” Joel raises his brows, a slight hint of teasing hidden in his southern drawl, and you can’t help but snort at the comment.

“I will not call you unartistic, it isn't supposed to look like a jar yet.” You hum and wipe your hands on your apron “We’ll do the lid to it later, but you have to actually make it into a bowl first.” your thumbs gently press down onto the center of the clay to form a soft dent. The wheel starts back up again slowly and you start to open the center up a little bit. “Right so now you just gotta take your thumbs like I did and- perfect!” Joel manages to press his fingers slowly against the clay, working it open, and god you wished that was you more than anything at that moment. You press on the sponge, the water dripping down his hand and onto the clay, almost sensually. Your eyes are locked on the way his thumb dips into the clay, the way the clay comes up onto his skin. Your mouth is dry, and you cough as you stand up, needing to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself.

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel's voice rings out from behind you as you move to take a drink of water, and you swear if his voice was just a tinge deeper, you would have choked right then and there. In the rush of getting up, your brain had ceased to realize that moving off the pedal would stop the wheel from turning.

You feel like an idiot. A stupid, hormonal, completely unprofessional idiot. You take a moment to scold yourself mentally before turning around to face him again. “Yeah, yes. Sorry I just realized how thirsty I was, I just needed water.” You move back to your stool behind him, halfway composed, and move to start the next step. If you'd been in front of him for one more second, you would have seen the knowing smile on his face. There was no denying the attraction between the two of you. Pressed up against each other, hands touching, dim light surrounding you both, it was inevitable. You move your hand to show him the right finger position “so you’ll want to take your middle and ring finger-” You press the two of yours inside of the bowl to give him an example and you swear he laughs a little bit.

“Oh, believe me, darlin” his voice rings out, big fingers expertly finding their way into the exact position. “I know all about this one.” You watch his fingers glide up and down the inside of the bowl, your hand on top of his, steadying his wrist. You bite at your lip, fingers shaking slightly on top of his. Your chest was pressed against his back and you could feel your nipples hardening. You were annoyingly turned on. This wasn’t normal for you, this wasn't something you do, get the hots for a client, but here you were. And with the way Joel's fingers were methodically moving over yours, you were begging that he felt the same way. “Wouldn’t mind showin’ ya all I know about it.” The want in his voice makes you clench subconsciously, your breath faltering for a second.

You hold your breath for a moment as if trying to make sure you hadn’t imagined his words in a haze of horniness, only to be broken out of that haze when he shifts and pushes his stool back, and turns around to face you. Both of your hands were covered in wet clay and your aprons were messy, neither of which stopped you from pressing your lips against his. You sigh against his mouth as your hand's fist in the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric with readily drying clay. “I don't usually do this,” you murmur when you pull away for air, your lips swollen and red.

Joel just grins at your words “S’alright, honey,” his lips find their way to your jaw and move down to your neck, his nose nudging at the fabric of your shirt. “Don't gotta explain anything to me.” His voice is like molasses, smooth and syrupy, keeping you stuck on his every word. You let him move you around, the small wooden stools were less than ideal for either of you. In the mess of standing up and finding a table to bend over your shirt comes off and he groans at the sight of you, his hands grabbing at your waist, staining your skin with water. “Good god… sight for sore eyes…” You can't help but flush slightly at his comment, feeling more exposed while you stare at his fully clothed figure.

Joel picks up on it, his hands moving from your waist to his shirt and apron, a frustrated noise leaving his mouth when the knotted strings keep him from taking it off. “Let me,” you whisper, reaching around to undo the strings, the fabric of the apron sagging and then getting tossed to some other corner of the room. You stare at him. You couldn't not stare at him. At the hair covering his chest leading down to his belt, the soft yet strong features of his body, at his hand undoing his belt. Your own shorts had been removed, your hands moving to reach into his jeans until he stopped you, a pout and protest forming on your lips.

Joel just shakes his head at you, picking you up and setting you on a relatively clean table, his body wedged between your legs. “My momma raised me to be a gentleman,” he hums against your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts, nudging your nipples with his nose before giving each of them their own kisses “I didn't take ya to dinner, at least let me get my fill yeah?” Your back fully arched into his mouth as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles were white. The feeling of his tongue flicking against the hardened bud had you moaning out in ways you had never imagined you would, and you swear you could feel him smirk even as he licked a stripe down the soft skin of your tummy.

His knees crack as he settles between your legs and the sight of him is so sinful you can't help but moan softly. He raises his brows at you, a warm chuckle leaving his mouth at the sound, his lips pressing against the inside of one of your thighs “Look that good?” His voice is laced with a gentle mocking as he presses another kiss, a hair's breadth away from your aching cunt “think I got the better view though.” You don't even have the time, nor the brainpower, to reply before his lips press against you, a groan vibrating against your skin as he tastes you. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had… could get damn addicted.”

Your lips are parted as his tongue swirls around your clit, your whines and moans spurring him on even further. “F-fuck joel-” you manage at some point, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread apart, despite how much they’d like to clamp around him. He was good at this and he knows that, moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, the words giving him a newfound energy. You feel his warm palms against your thighs keeping you spread open for him, and you almost whine when his tongue leaves your clit, only to cry out in ecstasy when his tongue prods at your pulsing hole. His nose is pressed up against your clit, giving you just the right amount of friction as he gathers your slick on his tongue, cycling between fucking it into you and laying it flat over your cunt. “Joel- joel oh fuck-” Your moans are frantic as he continues to send you closer and closer to that edge, his motions only getting faster as your hand fists in his hair. “Oh my god- fuck fuck fuuuuck-” your legs shake around his head, his hands keeping them apart as he works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you were spent and hazy, laying back on the table with shuddering breaths.

Your eyes were pressed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of your orgasm, only to peek open when you hear the clink of his belt. His mouth was covered in the sheen of your orgasm, a hungry look in his eyes as he spits into his hand and pulls his cock out. “Tasted like a damn dream,” he groans while he strokes himself. “Gonna remember this forever…” Your eyes are locked on the motions of his wrist, the steady pace, the pearly precum that was leaking from his tip. “Fuckin’ perfect… makin’ me feel like a damn teenager again.” You wait with bated breath as he continues to stroke himself, wiggling your hips in order to entice him.

“Joel,” your voice is soft, but so heavily full of need it was almost painful “Please… I want you.” If you were being honest, you thought that it would take more convincing, that you would have to ask more, but Joel was desperate, maybe more so than you were and so when he sinks his cock into your dripping cunt it was ecstasy for both of you. Your eyes fall shut again at the feel of him, the stretch so much but so good. “Oh my god…” you whine, pushing yourself onto him further, your breathing stuttering when one of his hands palms at your breast, the other one gripping your hip with so much strength you think it would leave a mark.

“That’s it…” he groans, slipping into you all the way. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy, like she was made for me.” His words are punctuated with shallow thrusts that fill you up again and again. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. The feeling of his hips pressing against yours is something you would never be able to get out of your memory.

You both lay there, bodies pressed against each other, his hips rocking into you slow and steadily, the dim lighting of the studio casting an ethereal glow over the scene. His hips move at a steady pace, keeping you full of him as the coarse hairs around him press against your clit with the right amount of friction. It doesn't take much time until he's panting on top of you, your lips pressed against each other's in a heated kiss as you feel him spill inside you.

“That was…” you were breathless, his chest still against yours, the rhythm of your hearts syncing up.

“Yeah…” He grins, pressing a kiss against your forehead gently. “I know I told ya I was a gentleman but, I really would like to see you again… of course no pressure if you don't want to or anything-”

You cut him off with a small laugh before he can keep going, nudging your head against his. “I want to, Joel.” You smile gently at him “Plus, you didn't finish the jar.” You grin, looking in the direction of the unfinished work of art he had started. “And then I have to fire it, then glaze it, then fire it again, then… well you get the point, I think I’ll be seeing you quite a few more times, Joel.”

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

#papaya writes <3 #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller au #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #pedro characters #pedro pascal

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talesfromawannabewriter · 1 day ago

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@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Cain thought good and hard about what he wanted. On the one hand there was the possibility of having to deal with the overbearing mess of his father and Charlie. On the other….His mom needed him. That was enough to make up his mind.

Cain: (Nods) let’s go.

Satan smiled at his mate and immediately conjured a portal to where Adam was.

—

Adam screamed as he felt another contraction hit him. It had been so long since he felt a great pain such as this. He didn’t even get periods up in Heaven, because again it was Heaven. Meaning no physical pain. Currently he was lying in a hospital bed, sweating bullets while all the doctors and nurses kept jittering about.

As for Lucifer he was trying his utmost to comfort his mate.

Lucifer: It’ll be alright love just breathe

He demonstrated

Lucifer: Three in, one out. It’s easy

Lucifer regretted those words the moment they came out. Adam turned and for the first time in a while gave him the scariest rage filled expression he had seen since he was still an angel. Possibly worse.

Adam: Lucifer is you want your penis to remain intact by the time our daughter is delivered then I suggest you shut the absolute fuck up!

The words came out in a low growl as his eyes flashed yellow. Adam then went back to trying to block out the pain. After about a minute of that a behemoth nurse came up to him asking if he wanted an epidural.

Adam: W, w, what’s t, that?

Nurse: An epidural your highness is a drug used on delivering mothers so that they won’t be able to feel any kind of pain, just slight pressure.

The nurse suddenly found herself mere inches away from the Queen’s face as he pulled her in and screamed,

Adam: PUT ALL THE DRUGS INSIDE ME!!!!

—

Cain and Satan entered the hospital and spotted Charlie sitting in one the lobby’s chairs with her mate beside her. He marched right up to her and asked in a serious tone,

Cain: What room is my mom in?

Charlie: Cain? What-

Cain: What room is my mom in Charlie!?

Charlie: Delivery room 666 on the third floor.

Cain: Ok thanks!

Cain made a dash toward the elevators leaving all three demons behind. Satan didn’t blame him, he was just worried. Instead he sat down next to his mate’s sister and her mate as they waited. By the time Cain made it he was almost out of breath as he swung the door open. Where the sight of his mother vulnerable while a doctor invected something in him. Cain: MAMA! Adam turned to see his eldest child in the doorway. Tears filed his eyes as a wobbly smile rose from his lips.

Adam: CAIN!

The two once humans rushed to embrace each other. Cain: Oh Mama I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to cause any stress or for my sister to come early. Please, please, please forgive me.

Adam: There’s nothing to forgive. Cain I’m the one sorry for pushing you when you obviously weren’t ready. I just didn’t want discord around our baby. But I know you can’t force people to like each other. Someday you’ll see how much those two love you. But I can’t blame you for being angry at your father for not listening or your sister for not understanding. And I wish I can say more but I’m about to have another contraction so if you’ll excuse me AGHHHH!!!!!

Adam screeched as he rode out the pain. Thankfully, it wasn’t as long as the first ones. It meant the medicine was already kicking in. Cain: Mom is there anything I can do? Like get Dad! Wait where is he?

He noticed the lack of his father.

Adam: He went out to get me ice chips and check on Charlie. Hopefully by the time he gets back the pain meds will have fully kicked in.

Cain watched, completely helpless as his poor mother started to clutch his belly as another one hit him. He winced feeling pain just from seeing his mom in pain. He still remembered back on Earth when it happened. Unless one of them could help they were to remain outside the den. By order of their papa.

When some of his brothers and sisters learn to become mid wives did Cain ms worry slightly dull. However, there was still the heartbreak of not being able to take the pain away. Something that when he learned why it happened made Cain curse the angels. Looking back it was probably one of the reasons they made him commit the first murder. Still Cain wanted to help his mother relax, to ease the attention and get his mind off of the pain. At least until there was none.

An idea popped into his mind like a light bulb. Tenderly he grabbed one of Adam’s hands, the other reaching around to his back and began rubbing soothing circles. Both on his back and hand. He then began to hum and Adam instantly recognized the melody. It was the same one he used to sing to Cain.

As the song progressed Adam’s anxiety dwelled along with the pain. Until finally it was gone at long last. He reached a shaky hand to Cain’s head and tussled his fluffy hair affectionately. Adam: Thank you my sweet baby boy. You’re a good son.

The First Anti-Christ

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

(excuse me for the long prologue)

Anti Christ, the child of the fallen one, the devil. Everyone knows of the name and what it means. However, they don’t know of WHO that child is do they? Everyone thinks that the child will make themselves known as they bring on the end of humanity. What people don’t realize is that the anti-Christ has already walked upon the Earth.

In fact he was the first to be born on the planet. You see he was one of the very first humans. The very first child and son of the mother of humanity, Adam the first omega. His name was Cain.

Now many must be wondering on how this came to be. Why did it happen. How and why did the first omega manage to give birth to the fallen one’s offspring. All will be explained here, in this story.

A long, long, long, time ago when the Earth was still young the creator of it had decided on what its final inhabitants would be. They were called humans, the very first of their kind. He made them into something special. With their names came their designations.

Lilith the first woman and alpha

Adam the first man and omega

He made the two to be companions, to watch over another as one would for a friend or as he hoped like siblings. However, his other creations had other plans. While the Lord was busy attending to his purpose of watching over the universe. The other creations, the angels went down to the humans and they told the two that they were more than just companions. They told them that they were mates and they would bring forth true humanity.

Both were confused and asked how? The angels told them that once a month Adam’s womb would welcome Lilith’s seed and instructed him for when the time came for Adam to lay on his back and to spread his legs for his mate. When they heard of this both were rather disgusted by it. They hadn’t known each other for long but they simply weren’t compatible in that way. They couldn’t even bother to be friends for they both had too many differences that often clashed with each other.

While Adam was energetic and outgoing, Lilith was reserved and careful. It would often cause arguments from the two, especially when it came to their duties. Their first duties, of naming and caring for everything in the garden. Lilith thought Adam to be immature. Adam thought Lilith to be demanding. Both seemed to think that nothing was ever good enough for each person. One thing they both could agree on is that they did not wish to be mates.

Still Adam did not wish to upset the angels and simply bowed his head and nodded submissively. They began to explain other sets of rules that both were to follow. Lilith as the alpha was to always provide and care for her omega. Adam as the omega was to always follow her way and submit to his alpha. Both were to bring children into this world.

Lilith would become the father of humanity. While Adam would become the mother of humanity.

Lilith, disgusted at the thought, disagreed wholeheartedly. She fled from the garden and away from the omega. Hoping to never set another foot in there again. She was found by someone, an angel of the Lord himself, whom she would soon call a friend and sometime after that a husband. Though she didn’t trust him at first she eventually told the angel of why she ran from paradise.

The angel was shocked and confused. Why would his siblings do that? Why would they mess with his Father’s creations that way? He wanted so badly to go up there and tell his Father of what they had done to Lilith. He knew that they would somehow find a way to pin the blame onto him.

That is why he came up with a new plan. To meet and talk to Lilith’s supposed mate. What he didn’t know at the time was that the omega was actually his true mate.

He crept into the garden, careful not to aware the elders of his presence. What awaited him in the garden was not what he expected. A true beauty, one that took his breath away. Though he had thought Lilith to be pretty. She was nothing compared to Adam.

His soft brown hair, honeyed eyes that sparkled, and tan skin that was splattered by freckles. His Lucious curves was enough to drive him insane. The angel managed to open his mouth and introduced himself. His name was Lucifer, the angel of light and God’s most favored son.

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skzfairyyydreamz · 1 day ago

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Replaced? (Part7)

Genre: Skz smau, Text posts, Non!idolAu, Angst, friends to enemies, Mini series

Pairing: Bsf!skz , Fem!Reader, Stoner!Skz/Stoner!Reader, Bartender!skz, Club manager!Chan, Club security!Changbin, Bottle girl!Reader

Warnings: ‼️Slow build‼️strong language (obvi coming from the profanity queennnn) , mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of fighting, mentions of/implied SA, mentions of anxiety plz let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: thank you guys sooo much for all the love on this mini series, and my biggest apologies for the wait! i pinky promise NOT to take a whole month to post the next part!!! but with this series coming to an end prepare yourselves for non stop CHAOS DRAMA and ANGST! all feedback, reblogs, and replies are SAUR greatly appreciated !!! thank you for sticking around and reading my silly little stories!

<<<Previous | Next >>> Word count: 4K Screenshot count: 30

After what felt like 30 long and silent minutes of everyone collectively cleaning up the after math of that night, you finally broke the silence..

“Honestly Thank you guys sm for staying to help me with this crazy ass mess .. and you know…” you spoke nodding your head in the direction of your bedroom referring to jeongin while avoiding saying his name like it was some type of bad omen.

“No, Ofc!” Changbin spoke.

“You know we wouldn’t leave you alone after all that happened tonight.” Felix added as he finished pushing all your furniture back into its designated places.

“please" chris scoffed “as much time as we spend in this apartment, we’re practically your roommates! Ofc we’d stay to help out. ” he added as he came out the kitchen holding what sounded like a garbage bag full of empty solo cups and broken glass.

“Girl go get some rest you're gonna need it, gimme that.” minho said while taking the broom and dustpan from your hands and shooing you away.

“Agreed! ” Felix walked up behind you kissing the side of your head and gently rubbing your shoulders “You’re free to go shower and change or get comfy however you need darling.”

“Nuh uh, you s-?” You turned around but he shut your protest down rather quickly. “I’m positive princess, go. We’ll take care of everything out here”

“But -”

“GO...I got it!” he turned you around ignoring the pout on your face as he nudged you in the direction of the hallway.

It was nearly sunrise, and you were absolutely dreading the idea of having to face jeongin when he woke up. Even then in that moment walking into your bedroom to prepare for a shower, you dreaded even being in his presence. Just the thought of him possibly waking up at any given second was eating you alive, REGARDLESS to the sound of his grizzly bearlike snores and the sight of drool sliding down the sides of his mouth, indicating that he was VERY much sound asleep. However, You never even made it passed the doorframe of your room before the anxious knots in your stomach told you to turn around and run right back down that hallway.

“ lix ... i cant- I cant do it.” you whisper panicked running up to him and grabbing his hand.

“cant what baby ?” “ i feel so nasty and guilty, i can't even look at him right now what if we wakes up!??”

“ baby... first of all you have nothing to feel guilty for. And secondly, he slept through the sound of you trying bash sophies face in with glass liquor bottles... I'm pretty sure that dude is not waking up any time soon my love” he let out a chuckle. “What if he does thoooo!??” you whined “ im not ready to face him babe what will i say to him huh??? Oh, hey there jeongin i just tried to kill your girlfriend because shes such a shitty unfaithful stupid little bitch, how did you sleep?” felix cackled out loud this time pulling you into a hug and kiss to calm your racing mind. “ okay okay I'll get your clothes for you, no worries princess”

“ugh, thank you so much lix youre actually an angel“

“no problem jagi , tshirt or hoodie?”

“hoodie” you continued to pout slightly , while trying to brush the weight of tomorrows worries away “sweatpants or shorts?"

“shorts please”

“mkay, be back in a jiff!!” he began walking down the hall to your bedroom “pink towel, black loofa please!!” you yelled out to him.

“you got it!” he answered back “you're so amazinggg, you deserved the world!! “ you thanked him aloud once more “ i already have her” he sing songed back to you as you smiled to yourself thanking the heavens you could go a least few more hours avoiding the inevitable. ~~~~~ ��

“... no im telling you it was weird as fuck! Like her whole aura just completely changed when she saw him.” ( felix)

“putting two and two together he clearly had to have said or done something to her for her to be so angry. We’ve known y/n for a long ass time and I've never seen her more mad than she was tonight.” (minho)

“besides trying to murder sophie..” (changbin)

“yes... besides that! Also not to mention his face was bright fucking red when we came back upstairs and they were the only two in the apartment.” (minho)

“it WAS! Idk what happened but im pretty positive she smacked the shit out of him.” (changbin)

“ hold on?... Yall left her ALONE with that fucking scumbag?” lix raised his voiced stressfully running a hand through his hair as he scooted closer to the edge of the sofa, beginning to get more irritated by the conversation he and the boys were having.

“WHOA! Hold on!” minho pointed at felix also scooting to the edge of his seat jumping quickly at the only opportunity he had to both calm felix down AND defend himself. “ it wasn't like that at all, the three of us went downstairs to get the birthday cakes out the car while y/n came upstairs because she had to use the bathroom. Alex was actually already here setting up his DJ equipment before y/n even got back!”

“yeah thats true.. And that really only took about 10 minutes, truth be told. ” (chris)

“and where tf was jeongin?!” (felix)

“he and sophie had ran out to get ice” (changbin)

“Listen, all i know is whatever happened it is NOT to be taken lightly. y/n is a tough girl and not much is going to make her cry so we WILL be getting to the bottom of this TODAY, THIS hour.” (chris)

“ SHE CRIED!? ... oh imma kill him” felix let out a sinister almost emotionless chuckle as he slightly rocked back and forth in his seat being only seconds away from crashing out.

“wait deadass? When??” (changbin)

“im deadass. It was before the party started like right when the guests started arriving. I went in the kitchen just to chat with her and i noticed she was having a moment, she tried to brush me off but you know i always call her bluff.” (chris)

“and what did she say? Because Bin tried to ask what was wrong and she seemed too angry to even speak, she gave us a look but that was about it. she just poured herself a drink then went out to get some air on the balcony.” (minho)

“ she didn't really tell me anything all she said was that she felt stupid and violated.. So ofc i told her i would handle that shit right then if she just told me what happened, but she insisted on dropping it and initially I wasn't going to but i just let it go and held her for a little bit once i saw her shed a few tears... however she did promise me that we would talk about it later and shes good for keeping a promise so ofc i trust her to do so.” (chris)

“yeah... im ready to go to jail” Felix let out yet another emotionless chuckle.

“okay, something definitely did happen between the two, yes. But lets just breathe and hear it from y/n first before we start collecting bail money.” ( changbin)

“man fuck all that fr! I need answers this shit is really starting to eat at me” (felix)

They were so caught up in their conversation that they didnt even hear you come out the bathroom and back down the hallway.

“So is sleep out of the question?” you spoke, making your Prescence known as they all snapped their heads in your direction.

“entirely outta the question my love, we have quite a few things to talk about” felix responded patting the spot next to him on the sofa signaling you to sit and join the conversation.

You hesitantly took a seat next to Felix on the sofa across from minho and chris, as changbin was sat in the loveseat to your right. Taking a look around the room you let out a shaky sigh really not wanting to have this conversation after the hectic night you had but you knew you couldn't put it off any longer or they all would lose their fucking minds.

“Take your time kiddo, no pressure.” Chris spoke softly sensing your body tensing up.

“Whenever you're ready love, we trust you.” felix added holding your hand and kissing the back of your knuckles.

“y/nnnnie dont look so upset” changbin spoke next “ you know we’re not here to scold you, you did nothing wrong we just want to protect you and know that you're safe.”

“ we just want to know what happened is all babe.” felix pulled you into a hug and began rubbing your back to calm you down.

“ i know i know...” you took a deep breath and let out another heavy sigh.

“just relax a bit, I'll go make some tea.” minho spoke before getting up and walking to the kitchen.

It took about an hour-long conversation to tell the guys what alex had did and explain everything in detail. Emotions were very high but somehow you were able to calm them all down and convince them to let it go at least for now. Chris had kept insisting that you press charges against him but you let it be known that you genuinely didnt feel the need to because one, you were more than proud that you found the strength to defend yourself when you really needed to, plus you were almost positive that nasty smack you gave him would leave a bruising. Secondly, you knew that regardless to lix being calm in that moment, he was definitely still on hots and there would be absolutely nothing nobody could do to stop him from beating alex’s ass again the next time he saw him. So for you the score board was 3 to 1, in your head it was perfect girl math. (LMAO) and truth be told you really didn't want to get lix involved and have him end up with assault charges for beating this man's ass multiple times. You just wanted to let it go and forget it all for as long as you possibly could.

After the conversation had died, everyone just sat in complete silence with their own thoughts for a few minutes. Tiredness, worry and deep frustration sketched over the faces of everyone in the room. Not that you didn't already know this but this moment made it so evident how much your friends and boyfriend truly, truly cared about you.

“ughhh! That was alot..I need another blunt” Felix broke the silence with a deep sigh.

You lifted your head off of his shoulder to get up from your spot on the sofa, reaching for your stash box sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “I’ll roll , yall can meet me on the balcony in 5” you left a kiss on the top of Felix's head before walking out to the balcony.

A few minutes had passed before both chris and lix joined you on the balcony, while bin and minho stepped out on a breakfast run for you guys. It was a bit passed 7 a.m the sun was out and the birds were chirping. You sat in silence while the joint rotated between the 3 of you. What you would normally consider to be a beautiful morning, had actually become the one thing you were dreading the most. You tried to at least enjoy the morning breeze against your skin as you ignored the burning feeling in your chest that jeongin would be waking up pretty soon and you would then have to face yet another conversation you did NOT want to have.

Just as you finished up your smoke session and went back inside you heard the door to your bedroom creak open with jeongins voice immediately following “hey, where's Sophie? She didn't stay?”

“Speak of the fucking devil...” you whispered to yourself.

“bro .. what exactly are you trying to say to me right now?!” jeongin raised his voice, you could see frustration visibly building within him.

“jeong listen.. You really need to start seeing sophie for the person she truly is or youre gonna end up broken in the end.” you said as calmly as you could.

“so what im supposed to breakup with her and end my relationship because you say so?!”

“jeongin if you'd just calm down and listen to what i have to say you would understand where im coming from.”

“well wtf are you saying y/n? Stop beating around the bush!”

“basically me and sophie got into a fight last .. and it almost got physical.”

“what?? y/n tell me you did not hit her?? what could have possibly happened while i was asleep for y'all to even get into it like that?!”

“i didnt get the chance to but you can thank chris and felix for that”

“so what youre telling me is that you get drunk and sassy then start picking fights with your friends? I swear you cant leave drunk women unattended for shit” jeongin rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as he walked away to pick up his phone, most likely to check on his girlfriend.

“wth? jeongin when i have i ever not been able to hold my liquor?! It was the end of the night the party was already over by that time and i had already sobered up, just shut up and listen for a moment.”

He let out a sigh as he flopped down on the sofa with his eyes still glued to his phone “im listening” he replied with annoyance lingering in his tone of voice.

There was a quick moment of hesitation as you shared a nervous look between chris and felix “ you know you're my best friend and i love you right?”

Breaking his gaze from his phone, He finally looked up at you clearly super annoyed with the conversation at this point “ ...yes” he replied with a blank stare.

“ and you know I'd never lie or do anything to hurt you right?”

“right ... except try to beat up my girlfriend” he said in a low sarcastic tone rolling his eyes before looking at his phone again

“it wasnt unprovoked, jeongin! theres more to that story!”

“like i said , im listening!! But im not hearing shit?!”

“sophie kissed me!” chris blurted out, not being able to take your stalling any longer.

And just like, the air and the whole atmosphere of the room had entirely changed like a press of a button. His face went to stone as he stood up from the sofa with his phone tightly gripped in his hand.

“what did you just say?” he raised his eyebrow challenging Chris in a cold tone.

“she had been making advances and throwing herself at me from the moment you passed out in y/n’s room, i told her NO multiple times and she literally forced herself on me in the kitchen.”

“bullshit!” he glared at Chris.

“Lix and i walked in on it .. we literally seen it with our own eyes, jeong..” you defended Chris in the softest voice you could, really not wanting jeongin to get any angrier than he already was.

“BULLSHIT!” he repeated, turning to scream in your direction this time.

“YO! WATCH IT! Felix yelled back at him wasting no time to defend you. He quickly stood up in the middle of you two, reaching behind himself to grab your hand once he realized the loudness of his deep voice had startled you.

“wtf is this some sick and twisted joke?!”

“jeongin, mate ..we have no reason to lie to you. I know this is a lot to take in right now and its gonna be rough but Sophie is no good ... we’re your closest friends and we just want what's best for you.” chris tried to calm him even knowing that was likely not to happen.

Jeongin said nothing, he just let out a sarcastic dry laugh as he walked away from the conversation. The apartment stood quiet waiting for him to return back to the living room. And when he did, he followed the silence, quietly flopping back down on the sofa once more to put on his sneakers.

And that was Chris’s last straw, jeongin’s silence had sent him over the edge. “SO WHAT?? IM A LIAR NOW?.. AS LONG AS WEVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS THIS IS HOW YOU ACT OVER A FUCKING GIRL THAT DOESNT EVEN DESERVE YOU TO BEGIN WITH!?”

Jeongin kept his silence as he continued to take his time putting his shoes on almost as if he was ignoring Chris.

“Well if that's what you think wait for minho and changbin to come back and ask them yourself, they were here for it was well!”

“nah I'm good” jeongin put on a false nonchalant act.

“so you don't believe any of us is what you're saying? Minho, bin, y/n, lix, and i are all just gonna lie on your girlfriend unprovoked??”

“i just dont undertsand when we started ganging up on eachother instaed of talking shit out ??!”

“IS THAT NOT WTF WERE TRYING TO DO RIGHT NOW??” chris barked back.

“ yall BEEN holding hostility against sophie, you think im fucking dumb i peeped the energy shift a WHILE ago!!”

“ thats because sophie is a fucking werido jeong!” you jumped in to defend chris once more “Shes been doing hella weird and shady shit for a long ass time, but for the sake of YOU we tried to keep the peace and keep it under wraps! I even distanced myself from her a while ago because shes been lying on me and acting hella phony. Youre like my little brother ofc i didnt want to bring it up and end up putting you into a predicament where you had to choose between her and your friends that would be fucking ridiculous ..”

“You think i wanna be doing this right now?! Jeongin us having to have this conversation is hurting my fucking heart because you love so blindly!! you dont even realize what this girl is doing to you!” your passionate argument had turned into screaming at this point and you were afraid that the love you held for your best friend and the action of trying to protect him had gotten lost in translation.

“i dont realize what shes doing to me?? wtf is she even doing ?!!?” he barked back at you clearly clueless and stubborn not even putting any effort to try and understand your point of view.

“oh my... fucking goodness ..” felix let out a loud frustrated sigh as he slouched back into the sofa. He and chris both facepalming simultaneously as you just stood there looking at him like he had four heads..

“dude.. She basically cheated on you! She kissed me.. ANOTHER MAN!! That man being one of your best friends and your roommate...that's literally right under your nose!! so she clearly doesn't give a fuck about you, she didnt even have the decency to do it outside of your friend group, jeongin” at this point chris knew good and well that the only reason jeongin continued to argue back was because he was embarrassed and in denial.

He stood quiet for a few seconds just upset and breathing heavy not really having much to say to continue defending sophie (because what is there even to defend DROP THAT HOE!)

“so what, she just left after that happened?!” jeongin spoke again attempting to argue back

“no... I tried to take her fucking head off because why would she ever do some grimey shit like that?! But these two wouldn't let me hit her so i kicked her outta my fucking house.” you spoke with annoyance.

“ that shit dont make no fucking sense why would she try to kiss chris when we’re literally dating and everyone that was in here knows that!!” he raised his voice again

“bingo dipshit!” felix’s frustration had began turning into sassy side remarks

“THAT RIGHT THERE IS OUR POINT EXACTLY!!” you screamed starting to feel like you were talking to a brick wall

“not TRY might i add .. she DID kiss me. She quite literally grabbed my face and kissed me after i told her to stop.” chris added in a sarcastic tone, he was pissed that this conversation was even still going on.

“call her.” felix chimed in but jeongin just glared in his direction not saying anything.

“call her right now with all of us here and ask her why she got into it with y/n last night

He went silent once more ignoring felix entirely before getting up from the sofa to go grab his jacket and keys.

This silence was much thicker than each one previously, and it left loud feelings of frustration and utter disbelief lingering in the air.

“jeong, you deadass?..” you spoke again, standing frozen. All the anger in your body wholly dissipating, being replaced with the hurt that was painfully evident in your voice as it trembled slightly.

Realizing how badly he fucked up, jeongin once again chose to stay silent and avoid your gaze.

“Denial is a fat bitch to swallow isn't it?” felix scoffed.

“ Fuck off, felix!” jeongin bit back as he began walking towards the front door

“right back at ya cunt!” felix barked in a harsh tone as he flipped him the bird

“you're mad at the wrong people idk wtf else to tell you but if you wanna choose to be stupid for this fucking girl than have fun with the outcome!” chris dusted his hands with the situation and walked away as jeongin walked in the opposite direction, storming out of the apartment slamming the door behind him

You stood there staring at the door almost stuck in a trance. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to come back through that door or for this to just be some bad dream but it most definitely was not.

Slowly turning around towards felix who was already slowly making his way towards you feeling the sadness in your aura. He gently grabbed your hand immediately rubbing his thumb over the back of your kunckles in an attempt to comfort you. Your watery eyes met his apologetic ones and he could feel everything you were feeling in the that moment. He was pissed because every single thing that you were scared of happening had just come true.

“ lix.. Please tell me i did not just lose my best friend over this bitch..” your voice was almost a whisper with a barely audible sob leaving your mouth before you could even finish your sentence. The tears began to fall at a rapid pace and there wasnt much lix could even say to comfort you. “ i knew it... i knew this shit was gonna happen!” the tears kept flowing He felt so defeated, and the only thing he could do was the one thing he does best, and that was hold you. He held you on the sofa for hours. You had cried and cried, fell asleep, woke up and cried some. Minho and changbin had come back and immediately realized exactly what had happened. Chris filled them in on all the details of how ridiculous jeongin was being and of course they were just as heated as the rest of you were. The guys had all ended-up crashing in your guest bedroom before felix had woken up and carried you to your bed so that you could rest properly. It was definitely needed after so much emotional destress on top of you being awake for 24+ hours and all the partying and drinking that had happened right before all the drama.

Taglist (Open) : @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @imastraykidsfanan@simpracha @turtledove824 @laylasbunbunny @armystay89 @eclipsemina @4ln-stay8@aalexyuuuhm @scribblesnsketches05 @amarecerasus @euphoric-univers @stellasays45 @night-storm7 @vixensss @blossomlilly @jc003 @hanniesbubuwife @beccaskz@soyeonbean @kawaiijellyfishtimetravelr @chuuyaobsessed @estella-novella @gabriellamarie@livelaughloveskzmwah @thatshroomiegirl @flowerbunnii @whoa-jo @babygirlskz98@leftenemydestiny @dazzlingjade @hyuneyeon @nightmarenyxx @slayyparkjimin @aliceskzfan@velvetmoonlght @here-to-read-and-read-fics (plz lmk if you would like to be removed or added)

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ladykailitha · 2 days ago

Text

A Love For Christmas Part 7

Hello! Welcome to penultimate chapter! I've been loving the little guess on the elf, who will be revealed tonight in the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged. You make my day brighter.

Sledding is fun is because it's dangerous. And the company holiday party arrives.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The next thing I put the little elf in charge of was the sleds used for sledding. There isn’t much to do in the North Pole, so we always trying to have some fun. Ice skating and sledding are two such pleasures we get to enjoy year round.

I let out a jolly laugh to see that they were finally having fun. Just enjoying themselves and being free.

I should have known that wasn’t going to last.

They got up on the highest hill with the swiftest sled and with one mighty push, they were careening down the slope, getting faster and faster.

I thought for sure they would hit the bottom of the slope and jackknife right into the snow bank at the bottom.

But I was wrong.

What happened might well be considered worse.

They hit the bottom of the slope, but instead of slowly, like it was meant to, it kept going. The elf tried to steer. To get it to slow down.

But it was fruitless.

They saw what was coming and dived off the sled, rolling into the snow. They rose in time to watch the runaway sled crash through the remaining snowpeople, knocking them down like bowling pins or dominoes.

They looked up at me, eyes wide with shame and bewilderment. There was no reason it should have continued like that.

And I suspected sabotage and sure enough another elf’s name appeared on my naughty list that afternoon.

So I gathered up the elf and told them, I would find something special for them to do. Something I knew they could be good at if they tried.

Making friends.

When Steve told Eddie that he had never gone sledding because it was too dangerous, the arborist made his mission to get Steve on the slopes as soon as possible. But that meant it would be the morning of the office Christmas party, which Steve was absolutely fine with.

Hell, if it was as dangerous as his mother claimed, maybe he would be in the hospital with a broken leg and he wouldn’t even have to go.

He bought a nice two person sled as well a single seater and brought them to Eddie’s nursery as that was where he was meeting him.

Wayne came out first as he always did because he liked talking to Steve.

“Hey Steve,” he greeted warmly. “I hear you’re taking Eddie to that fancy ‘do of yours tonight. Aren’cha worried he might bring little bit more...bedlam then the occasion calls for?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “God, I hope so! I hope he brings all the chaos loving, long haired, metalhead energy he has in him. I want people to see how wonderfully wild and outrageous he is, because I that’s what I adore about him.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And Eddie is aware of this...plan?”

“Yup!” Eddie said cheerfully, popping out from behind one of the Noble firs. “It’s part of the reason I agreed to go. Me and Stevie here are going to have a real good time.”

Wayne shook his head fondly. “All right, as long you both know what you’re in for, I’m not going to stop ya.”

“We’re taking my van,” Eddie said, turning to Steve, “if that’s okay.”

“Yup!” Steve replied licking his lips and pursing them to hide the bright smile on his face. “I’ll just grab my sleds and I’ll meet you at the van.”

“Great!” Eddie said full dimples on display and Steve couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that sunk into his soul that it was aimed at him.

He hurried to his car and got the two sleds out of his car and trotted over to Eddie’s van.

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Wha’cha got two for?”

“I’m too chicken to go myself the first couple of times,” he said holding up the two-seater. “So I’m hoping you’ll go with me in this. And then...” he held up the single person sled, “once I’m brave enough to go on my own, that’s what this is for!”

Eddie cocked his head to the other side, admiring him. “That’s some good thinking. Of course I’ll come with you the first couple of times until you get your sled legs.”

Steve laughed, putting the sleds in the back of Eddie’s van. “What the fuck is sled legs?”

They both got in the van.

“It’s like sea legs only with sledding.”

Steve shook his head. “Of course it is. What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t,” Eddie said, starting the engine. “But that’s because you’re in the presence of the wonderful me! It’s such a trial to be this pretty!”

He leaned into Steve’s space and fluttered his eyelashes at him. So Steve did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed the tip of Eddie’s nose. “You’re cute.”

Eddie blushed and sputtered. “You’re going to ruin my reputation is what you’re going to be doing here, Stevie.”

Steve just laughed.

They got to the park where they were doing the sledding and the hills were covered in people of all ages screaming and laughing and just have a blast.

“This always looked so fun to me growing up,” Steve said wistfully. “But my mom would never allow me to go. Not even when my best friends tried to sic their moms at her. It was just too much for her precious boy.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat!” Eddie said gleefully throwing himself out of the van. Steve scrambled to catch up.

They grabbed their sleds and raced to the hill.

Will spotted them first and started waving vigorously. Steve and Eddie grinned, then made their way to them.

“Hey!” Mike said with a returning grin. “You guys made it. We’ve been here for hours!”

And they certainly looked it. Their cheeks and noses were red and their pants were soaked to their skin, but they looked like they could go all day without breaking their stride.

“Some of us work for a living,” Eddie groused. “Teenagers!”

“Nancy and Robin both work and they’ve been here all morning,” Dustin huffed, pointing over to the two girls.

There standing on the top of the hill in snow suits. Robin, Steve clocked immediately. She was in a mix-matched suit that was navy blue on the bottom but an ugly brown up top. The other girl was all in pink with bright blue mittens, cap, and scarf. Her curly hair stuck from her under her cap and her cheeks were rosy.

Honestly, if Steve hadn’t known any better, he would have pegged Eddie as her brother, not Mike.

“That was nice of their bosses to let them take the day off,” Steve said with a smirk. “Eddie’s is running the nursery with just him and Wayne, and my boss is a bag of dicks. So...maybe don’t compare what you don’t know.”

Everyone turned and looked at Steve wide-eyed like they had just witnessed a murder. Which, Steve thought with a huff, they probably had.

Then everyone oohhing and whistling and calling Mike out. He just rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever.”

That was when Steve knew he had truly won.

Eddie set down his sled and then took the two seater from Steve. “You ready for this, big boy?”

“I guess, I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve said with a smile.

Eddie set up the sled at the top of the hill and said, “All right, you get on first and steer and I’ll push, okay?”

Steve nodded and did as he was told. Then suddenly they were off, sliding down the hill at breakneck speed. Steve did his best to avoid hitting the major bumps and too soon they were at the bottom of the hill.

“That was fun!” Steve said, turning around to face Eddie. “Let’s do that again!”

And so they did. Steve spent most of the afternoon on the two seater or drinking hot chocolate with Robin, trying to warm up to go back at it. She was there to supervise.

“I’m here to make sure no one gets hurt,” she said dryly. “I’m just too uncoordinated to do it.”

“So come with me on the two-seater,” Steve said. “I’ll push and you steer.”

Robin chewed her lip and then nodded. Steve grabbed it from where it was sitting next to him and hauled it over to the top of the hill. Once they were all sorted, Steve pushed them off with a shriek of laughter and they were tearing off down the hill.

They slowed at the bottom and she looked back at Steve with a wide grin. “Let’s do that again!”

Steve laughed as she echoed his previous statement.

Then it was time for Steve to try his solo trip down the hill. Robin agreed to push him gently down the hill and Eddie offered to spot him at the bottom to help ease his fears.

Steve got settled on the sled but before Robin could even push him, the sled wobbled and started off down the hill on its own. Steve yelped as he struggled to steer the sled. But it was no good, he was heading right for a bump.

“Look out!” he cried as he hit the bump going top speed.

Everyone at the bottom of the hill scrambled to get out of the way. Steve caught air and landed hard at the bottom of the hill, tumbling out of the sled and rolling to the side.

Eddie was standing over him when he finally dared to open his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve took a moment to take stock. “Sadly, yes. But I think that means I’m done for the day.”

Eddie burst out laughing and helped him to his feet. They said their goodbyes to everyone and made their way to Eddie’s van.

“Thanks so much for today,” Steve said as he climbed in. “It’s been really nice hanging out with you guys all month.”

Eddie smiled fondly. “Of course, Stevie. I just hope you find Christmas just a little bit better.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie was dressed up as nicely as he could be, black button up shirt, nice black slacks, but he paired them with combat boots, a leather jacket and as many chains as he could get his hands on. Steve was dressed in a simple dark grey suit with a white shirt and red tie. Eddie thought he looked dashing.

They walked in through doors of Steve’s office building and while Eddie had been there before with the trees he hadn’t seen it decked out. Joyce’s ornaments were beautifully placed and Claudia’s cooking was being doled out by servers in black vests.

“Wow,” he murmured. “You sure do know how to plan a party. Damn, man. You did good for someone who out-nerved Robin that day when you came to the nursery.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie’s head whipped over at the nickname and he just lit up brighter than the Christmas tree.

Then a loud, boisterous man came storming up to them. “Steven, what is the meaning of this? You were supposed to bring a date, not the help!”

Steve blinked at him a moment and then cocked his head to the side. “But you didn’t say that though. You said I was expected to bring someone, not a date. So I picked Eddie. He’s been a real asset to helping plan this party, I couldn’t have done it without him.”

Mr. Harrington stuttered and stammered before leaving the way he came, in a huff.

“So...that was you’re dad I’m assuming,” Eddie said with a grimace. “Because hooboy, I can see why you don’t talk about him much.”

“Yep,” Steve said dryly, rocking back on his heels. “Clint Harrington, asshole extraordinaire.”

“Hey, I’m going to get something to drink,” Eddie said trying to change the subject. “You want anything?”

“Just water.”

Eddie frowned at that but went and got him an apple cider, some food and goodies, and brought Steve over some water.

“There you go,” he said brightly.

“Thanks,” he said taking a sip of the water.

He held up his plate. “You want any of this?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll eat later.”

Eddie dug into his food and they chatted. Everyone gave them both a wide berth and Steve loved every moment of it.

“Thanks for this,” Steve said brightly after the third person skirted around them. “I’ve never had such a peaceful party before.”

Eddie chuckled. “You’re welcome. I’m going to get more of the gingerbread snaps, you want anything.”

Again Steve shook his head.

“I don’t know why you won’t take any of the spoils of your labor,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “You deserve to eat this too.”

Steve looked up at him with a slight smile. “I’m allergic to orange. I literally can’t have any of it because it’s likely been touched by orange in someway, and I’d rather not spend Christmas in the ICU.”

Eddie eyes went wide. “Come again?”

Steve shrugged. “My parents do this every year. I’ve been allergic since I was seven, but they always had Christmas with everything covered in orange and complained when I refused to eat any of it.”

“Dude,” Eddie hissed. “That’s like child abuse.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie looked around and saw that everyone else was having fun while Steve was forced to put on a smile and not enjoy any of it.

“Do you want to get out of here and grab a burger?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, sure. I just need to do something really quick. I’ll meet you by the car.”

Eddie nodded and went downstairs.

Steve slipped into his office and sent off an email with a grin on his face. As he was leaving his father stopped him.

“I’m don’t know what you are trying to pull with this,” he hissed. “But your mother doesn’t want to see you until after New Year’s, she that upset!”

Steve shook him off. “Maybe I’ll get to eat something for Christmas for a change.”

He stormed off, racing down the stairs and out into the crisp winter air. Eddie was by Steve’s car and he just held his arms open.

Steve dashed right into them and buried his head into Eddie’s neck. “I just quit.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “You did what now?”

“I sent in my two weeks notice, dated today,” Steve said with a grin. “They won’t see until the 5th of next month when they all come back, but by then the two weeks will be up and they’ll have to give my severance as well as all my PTO that I’ve accrued.”

“And just how much will that be?” Eddie asked looking down at this man of his dreams.

“At least sixty thousand dollars,” Steve replied, his grin growing wider. “Enough to get me through school to get my teaching degree so I can teach middle school.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You are a menace, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah.”

“Come over to our place on Christmas,” Eddie said, “enjoy the holiday for a change.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Part 8

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight @themoonagainstmers

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #hallmark christmas au #businessman steve harrington #christmas tree farmer eddie munson

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suzukiblu · 6 hours ago

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Day twenty-four of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, burying his face in Bernard’s shoulder; feeling syrup-sticky and slow and warm and sweet. “Robin told me.”

“Good boy,” Bernard says, pressing a kiss against his temple and petting the back of his head; stroking a hand across the small of his back too. “Mn. Fuck, you really are tight. Still this excited to get played with, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kon pants against the other’s shoulder, rolling his hips a little faster, and everything in the whole world just feels liquid. “Play with me, Rob said you could, said I could be good for you, I’ll be so good for you, pleasepleaseplease–”

“C’mon, yeah, just like that,” Bernard sighs breathlessly, tightening his grip on him a little more; rolling his hips up into his a little harder. “So cute. You can hold onto me with your hands too, boy, you don’t have to do it with just your ass. Or do you wanna hold my hand again, it’s alright if you–”

“Mn” Kon chokes, rolling his hips a bit too hard, and he knows he needs to keep the super-speed out of bed with baseline humans as much as possible, but his hands just snap to Bernard, one grabbing the hand of the arm the guy has wrapped around his waist where it’s curling around his hip and the other grabbing onto his back and just–clinging, maybe, kinda, sorta.

Definitely.

“Fucking cute,” Bernard mutters, then presses another kiss into his hair. “Good boy, best boy, how’s it feel? You like it? Wanna come like this?”

“I–your shirt,” Kon manages stupidly even as he clings tighter to the other and nuzzles tightly into his neck, because, like–he’s probably already gotten pre on it by now being pressed in this tight against the guy, but if he actually comes right now, he doesn't think he'll be able to concentrate enough to keep it off his–

“S’okay if you make a little bit of a mess,” Bernard hums, nuzzling him in return; curling his fingers against his scalp and shifting the hand he has underneath his to grip his, and Kon muffles a moan against his shoulder, and there’s just no space left between them and Bernard just keeps talking and–“S’what I’m here for, right? I’m taking care of you ‘til Tim gets back. You don’t need to worry about anything else. Just lemme make you feel good.”

“I–I–” Kon chokes, clinging to him even tighter, and Bernard nuzzles in behind his ear and bumps a couple of his earrings with his nose in the process and rolls his hips up into his without pulling back out of him at all and gives his hand the softest little squeeze, and Kon’s stamina is apparently just fucking gone because he immediately comes all over both of their stomachs with a gasping keen of a sound and–and Bernard keeps nuzzling him, keeps his arms around him, keeps his hands on him and his hips pressed up into his, and Kon literally did not even get his dick touched properly again, just kind of not-even-deliberately rubbed up between them at best, and he–and he–why’s he so–he managed to keep his TTK from letting his come get all over Bernard’s shirt, barely, but he really doesn’t even know how he did, because everything’s just so–“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I–please don’t–please–”

“Not gonna take your toy away, boy, you can play long as you want,” Bernard murmurs, then gives his hips a pointed roll up. Kon makes an absolutely pathetic embarrassment of a sound this time, body shaking and face buried in tight against the other’s shoulder and everything just–just liquid, even as he makes the reflexive little gesture that flicks the mess of his come out from between them before it makes an actual mess, though he can’t make it all the way to the trash can with it this time and has to just–just settle for the sheets, this time.

He’s just–he’s just all oozy, syrupy, melty liquid, all molten in his bones and bleeding through his veins and muscles and guts. The only thing he can feel that doesn’t feel like liquid right now is Bernard’s rock-hard cock hilted up so deep inside him; hilted up so perfect inside him. Literally nothing else even feels worth feeling, right now.

“Bernard,” he whines, and can’t even be embarrassed anymore. “Bernard, Bernard, s’so good, feel like I’m gonna–feel all–Bernard.”

“You’re so cute with your toys,” Bernard coos just a little bit breathlessly, scritching lightly behind his ear. “Cutest boy, and so eager, and so pretty in pink.”

Kon just moans uselessly into his shoulder again, too liquid and boneless in the other’s lap to keep clinging to him with anything but his TTK; feeling like something Bernard could fold up and put at the bottom of the bed for whenever he wanted it, like just some useful little gift Tim got him, like something worth the using. Like he could just stay right here as long as Bernard wanted him here, and just be useful right here as long as Bernard wanted him here. Something weighted, something warm, something Bernard can just come in as many times as he feels like, something–

Fuck, he thinks dizzily, and can’t really think anything more coherent than that. Bernard squeezes his hand and it feels like the only thing that’s keeping him from floating right up to the ceiling, except for maybe the other’s cock, and Bernard squeezes his arm around his waist too and Kon still can’t even be embarrassed, even with the sticky mess of his come only making it to the sheets and his barely-softened cock pinned between them all oversensitive and aching and the way he can’t seem to stop shuddering. He–he’s–he’s really supposed to be better at this, he can last all night when he wants to, but he just–he just can’t–

He can’t help it, he thinks, and then manages to find a little bit of embarrassment again after all. But–it’s just–

It’s Tim, and Tim Domming for him, and Domming him maybe better than anybody else ever has just because–just because Tim’s so obviously into it too, it’s not like–like, it’s not a trade-off of different kinks he’s gonna have to pay back later or something that Tim’s doing just to humor him, or only feels like once in a blue moon, or just wants to use as an excuse to just be an asshole to him, or . . .

No. It’s something Tim really likes. Like–clearly. Obviously. Very muchly.

It’s something Tim really likes, and he wants to do it for him. Wants to do it–do it with him.

Wants to do it with him enough to melt him down into useless syrup and let him be good for his boyfriend, even.

#timberkon #konbern #timkon #timbern #kon el #conner kent #bernard dowd #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #dom/sub

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 day ago

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REMMY—😭😭😭When you told me to check Tumblr because you’d left a review, I was NOT prepared for this emotional ambush 😭 The fact that you took the time to write something so thoughtful? For me?? ME??? 😭 Days have passed, and I’m still sitting here sniffling into my tea.

I’m absolutely over the moon that you’re enjoying your birthday gift so far! (Though my ignorant European ass did forget about those pesky Freedom Units again… 😂). It’s cozy without feeling cramped, right? ✨ And the way you called it a WHOLE ASS WORLD? 😭 I’m sobbing. I didn’t even think I did that much world-building for this one—I purposefully kept it light because I didn’t want to bog down the story with scene explanations and accidentally double its length. (Though let’s be real, you know I love doing that).

And yes! I normally don’t write Yoongi like this, but I decided to mix it up this time. He’s quieter, more reserved, but his actions? Oh, his actions. They’re practically shouting with love and warmth! He’s going to be there for Y/N in ways that feel so steady and genuine (don’t worry—no big bad angst! The only backstory drama is Jimin’s past, which… maybe was a spoiler? Whoops 😬).

His daughter? Adorable. Sweet, polite, playful—she’s everything 🥹 You’ll see (or should I say read). And oh, the location details! As I told you on Discord, this place is pretty far out—like five hours from the big city by car (even longer by public transport). It’s a poorer neighborhood, which is why everything is so affordable—Y/N’s house is dirt cheap compared to her city apartment.

AND JIMIN—😭😭😭 I’m actually tearing up again because this Jimin owns my entire heart. I’ve never met the man (obviously), but I poured so much of what I imagine him to be into this story. He feels so authentic to me, and I hope that comes across for you too! He’s warm, welcoming, and OH, you’re going to get so much more of him 😏

As for Y/N—YOU are Y/N! (Or not—you do you. Personally, I dissociate completely 😂 I write Y/N as someone totally different from myself.) But yes, the tea she’s drinking? Absolutely your favorite 🥰

THE BEST PRESENT YOU’VE EVER HAD??? 🥹 Now I’m straight-up bawling. I hope that’s just a sweet exaggeration, though, because surely you’ve received something better than this silly little story! Either way, I’m over the moon that it made you so happy. I was low-key terrified you might not like it 🫣Thank you so much for reading and leaving that incredible review, @remmykinsff 🫂 You know I absolutely adore you. And for the love of Jimin, don’t forget to eat! (Did you enjoy them, by the way?) Sending you all my love and a billion hugs 💜

Songs of the Heart (m) | pjm | chap 1: rebirth

Having just settled into a small house on the outskirts of the bustling city, you’re drawn into the haunting melodies of your neighbor’s sad love songs, echoing through the quiet walls day after day. Concerned, you finally gather the courage to knock on his door, unsure of what to expect—only to be face-to-face with Park Jimin, the renowned singer-songwriter whose voice has touched millions. What begins as a simple gesture of kindness soon unravels into something far more complex, as the melodies of his heart beckon you closer.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: musician!au (not completely idol!au), single dad!au, slice of life!au → Trope: strangers to lovers / neighbors to lovers → Genres: slow burn romance / fluff / angst / smut / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 5.6k → Warnings + triggers: nothing much, just heartache and small misunderstandings 🤭 → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: Hi!!! How are you doing?? 😄 I hope you’re as excited about this new series as I am (and I really, truly mean it when I say this might be my last series for a long while… so buckle up, it’s going to be a ride!). Now, before you go thinking I’m just setting myself up for failure, let me be real with you: my last Jimin series didn’t exactly set the world on fire—sigh. But I adore it, like, adore it. (I know, I’m biased, but can you blame me?) Soooo, this time, we’re going for a more “mainstream” vibe. Think heavily inspired by Jimin’s album Muse (seriously, his whole vibe in that is chef’s kiss), sprinkled with some Face flavor, and, honestly, just Jimin being Jimin. Because, let’s face it—he’s my bias, and I’m OBSESSED. Like, full-on crush mode. So, yeah, it’s basically me writing about my ultimate crush 😳 Now, let’s clear the air about the smut—I’m not going all-out with it here (though there will be some spicy moments, don’t worry 😉). Why? Well, I have a sneaky feeling this series is going to do okay (I mean, I adore these characters so much already 🥹, but engagement might be a different story). So, I’m going to save my energy for what really matters to me—the heart and soul of the story, instead of focusing too much on the smut (which, honestly, I’m not as into writing as I used to be). Okay, okay—back on track. I’m super excited to share this story with you, and I really, really hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Don’t forget to tell me your thoughts—whether you love it, hate it, or just want to fangirl over Jimin with me ✨ This whole story (which will be posted every Sunday for the next eight weeks) is for my dear friend @remmykinsff! I hope you’ll love it 💜

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

“Why the hell do you have so many boxes?” Yoongi groans, his voice slicing through the quiet winter air as he hefts a particularly heavy one—something he clearly should have let Namjoon handle. His breath fogs up like ghostly clouds, a silent testament to the biting cold.

You stand by the moving truck, arms crossed, the chill curling around you like an unwelcome scarf. The streetlamp above flickers weakly, casting long shadows over the small gathering of your life in boxes. You shiver, not just from the cold but from the weight of this moment—watching your brother Yoongi and your best friend Namjoon haul the sum of your memories into the truck, piece by piece, bound for a new beginning.

It wasn’t your choice to leave; the landlord had pulled the rug out from under you with a sudden hike in rent you couldn’t possibly manage. But this wasn’t just an ending. There was a glimmer of hope in the move—a small house on the outskirts of the city with a garden that you could already see yourself tending, sunlight warming your face. Perfect wasn’t something you’d often dared to dream of, but this felt close enough to touch.

Namjoon heaves the final box into the truck and straightens with a satisfied grin. “That’s the last of it. We managed to fit everything,” he says, his breath visible in the frost-tipped air.

Yoongi, less triumphant, leans against the truck, arms crossed, his usual scowl softened by exhaustion. “Not a lot of stuff, huh? Then why does everything weigh as much as a small planet?”

You roll your eyes at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Tiny apartments don’t leave room for a lot of stuff,” you murmur, thinking of your now-abandoned shoebox of a home. What you own might not fill much space, but every piece carries its own story, its own weight. To them, it’s just heavy. To you, it’s everything.

“Yoon, you should really hit the gym more,” you tease, your voice laced with playful scorn, though the grin on your face betrays your fondness. The sibling bond—a language of its own, fluent in jabs and unspoken affection.

“Are you calling me weak?” Yoongi snaps, his tone sharp, but the flicker of indignation in his eyes is almost theatrical. He knows the answer. You know he knows. It’s part of the game.

You laugh, the sound light and unbothered, a knowing glint in your eyes as you glance at his slender arms. “I don’t have to say it, do I?”

Before the exchange can escalate, Namjoon steps between you with a calm authority that feels as solid as the ground beneath your feet. “Alright, easy, you two. I’ll take care of the heavy lifting. Yoongi, you drive.”

Yoongi scoffs, letting your remark go as he shoots you a withering look that doesn’t quite land. He climbs into the driver’s seat with a practiced air of resignation, his fingers brushing over the steering wheel as Namjoon closes the back of the truck with a satisfying clunk.

The three of you settle inside the truck, and silence slips in, gentle and familiar, as the hum of the engine vibrates beneath you. The radio crackles to life, filling the space with the soft strains of a slow love song. The melody spills out like liquid silver, sad yet hopeful, and the singer’s voice—a perfect blend of sweetness and longing—wraps around you like a blanket against the cold.

Your chest tightens as the words begin to take root, burrowing into the quiet corners of your heart: “Even though I was pitch black, I can’t stop thinking about you all day long. Without you knowing, I want to take one step, then another, closer to you. Stay with you. I will be your reason. I hope this feeling reaches you.”

You stare out the frosted window, the aching beauty of the lyrics mingling with the soft glow of the late afternoon light. The world outside shifts and transforms as Yoongi steers the truck with steady hands, the city’s sprawling chaos giving way to the calm, snow-dusted edges of the outskirts. Frost clings to the barren trees and lonely streetlamps, their icy shimmer catching the fading sunlight like quiet promises.

There it is—your new beginning, cradled in the quiet of the outskirts. The small house stands modestly, embraced by a low, whispering hedge that frames its quaint charm. A tiny terrace juts out at the front, its stone surface dappled with the faint traces of winter frost. You remember the cozy backyard from the last time you visited—a patch of earth waiting patiently for spring to bring it to life.

Yoongi eases the truck to a stop in front of the house, the engine humming briefly before falling silent. The three of you step out, boots crunching softly against the snow-dusted gravel. Your heart thuds louder with each step as you approach the door. It’s a humble thing—made of frosted glass that blurs the world on the other side, catching the dim afternoon light and casting it gently inside. You know that when the sun graces it, the whole entrance will glow like a promise.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you fit the key into the lock, turning it with a satisfying click. The door creaks open, and you step over the threshold into your new home. It greets you with its smallness—barely 80 square meters—but it feels vast compared to the cramped city apartment you left behind. Here, there’s space to breathe, to begin again. And the rent, blissfully lower than what the city demanded, makes it all the sweeter.

You glance at the neighboring house—a touch larger, its lot sprawling wider—but you don’t feel envy. This space is yours. Yours to fill with laughter, with quiet mornings, with life.

Flipping the light switch, the warm glow floods the entranceway. The layout unfolds before you in inviting simplicity. The entrance flows seamlessly into a snug living room, its openness spilling into the compact kitchen. The single bedroom feels intimate but holds a delightful surprise: a small walk-in closet that sets your heart alight with possibility. The bathroom, unexpectedly spacious, feels almost indulgent—a small luxury you hadn’t dared to imagine.

You stand in the quiet warmth of the space, letting it envelop you. Yes, it’s small. Yes, it’s simple. But it’s yours. For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not just standing in a house. You’re home.

Namjoon brushes past you with a box in hand, his footsteps purposeful. “Where should I put this?” he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of settling dust.

“In the bedroom, please,” you reply, recognizing your own messy scrawl on the side of the box. He nods, disappearing down the short hallway. Moments later, Yoongi follows, arms burdened with lighter boxes this time, his silent stare speaking louder than words. You’re not sure if it’s disapproval or exhaustion—or maybe a mix of both.

Together, the three of you move with practiced rhythm, unloading the truck, the occasional grunt of effort punctuating the soft winter stillness. One by one, your belongings find their way inside, until finally, after an hour and a half, the truck stands empty. Inside, your life now lies in disarray—boxes scattered like misplaced puzzle pieces across the small living room. Thankfully, the heavier furniture already sits snug in its designated spots, thanks to Namjoon’s methodical eye for order.

You all collapse onto the sofa, a symphony of sighs and tired exhales filling the room. The cushions envelop you like a long-awaited embrace, and you lean back, the ache in your muscles giving way to a fleeting moment of peace.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Yoongi asks, his tone more dutiful than eager. You catch the subtext immediately: he’s ready to leave, and who could blame him?

“No, I’m good,” you reply with a grateful smile, sinking further into the plush comfort of your sofa.

But Namjoon isn’t done yet. “Can we make dinner for you before we go?” he offers, sitting up straight as if a second wind has just hit him. You wave him off, declining politely, but he shakes his head, determined. “I saw a grocery store just down the street. Yoongi and I will grab a few things, and then he’ll cook for you.” He’s already on his feet, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves.

Yoongi remains rooted to the sofa, his arms crossed and his expression somewhere between incredulous and annoyed. “You think I’m going to cook for my baby sister?” he scoffs, throwing you a pointed look.

Namjoon doesn’t miss a beat, rolling his eyes like an exasperated parent. “What, are you planning to let your family starve?”

Yoongi’s brows twitch as he fires back, “She’s over thirty. She’s a grown-ass adult. She can take care of herself.”

Your lips part, ready to volley something back, but before you can, Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s arm, hauling him to his feet with an ease that speaks of strength and familiarity. “Come on, Mr. Grown-Ass-Adult,” he says dryly, shoving Yoongi’s coat into his hands while slipping into his own.

Yoongi grumbles under his breath, but he doesn’t fight it. As Namjoon steers him toward the door, he casts a helpless glance back at you, like a cat begrudgingly herded.

“We’ll be back in a moment,” Namjoon calls over his shoulder, his voice brimming with cheerful authority. “Relax. Or unpack. Your choice.”

The door swings shut behind them, leaving you in the stillness of your new home, the faint scent of winter air lingering. You let out a soft laugh, your heart warm despite the cold. Family might be exhausting, but they’re also everything.

Then the door closes, and for the first time today, you’re alone. The silence wraps around you like a fragile shell, amplifying the creak of settling walls and the faint hum of distant life. You sink into the sofa, letting the stillness settle, until your ears catch something unexpected—a faint thread of melody, a guitar’s quiet murmur drifting through the air.

Curiosity tugs you upright, your steps soft against the floor as you follow the sound. In your new bedroom, you pause, pressing your hand to the wall. The music is clearer now, gentle and raw, strings bending under someone’s practiced fingers. Your new neighbor, perhaps? The thought lingers as you drift back to the kitchen, the faint melody becoming a backdrop to the rustle of cardboard and clinking pans. You begin to unpack—the pans your brother will use to cook, the utensils that clatter together like an impromptu percussion. Cooking has always been his way of showing love, and you can’t wait to taste the comfort it brings.

As you move through the small kitchen, time slips through your fingers like grains of sand. You make progress—each box emptied feels like a small triumph. The living room is next, and though you didn’t bring much, your touch begins to transform the space into something warm, something yours.

The sharp chill of winter sweeps in as the front door swings open, announcing Namjoon and Yoongi’s return. Cold air rushes past them, carrying the earthy scent of snow and fresh groceries. Shoes and coats are shed in a flurry of motion, and Namjoon drags his bags to the counter, while Yoongi mumbles something under his breath—his version of commentary that you’ve long learned to ignore. Yoongi grumbles as he hauls two bags into the kitchen, while Namjoon shoulders four with ease, a playful smirk on his face as he shakes the cold from his hair. Your brother dives into the kitchen, already rifling through drawers to find the pans you just unpacked.

As you help Namjoon sort the groceries, you note their choices: fresh greens, vibrant vegetables, sturdy staples like rice, beans, and coconut milk. Practical and thoughtful, as always. Your brother doesn’t waste time, snapping orders your way to chop this and rinse that. Namjoon, wisely, steers clear of the chaos and retreats to the sofa, knowing better than to tempt fate near a knife.

You and Yoongi move seamlessly, a practiced rhythm born of years of shared meals and unspoken communication. The kitchen fills with the sizzling symphony of cooking: onions crackling, garlic blooming in fragrant waves, and the gentle stir of sauces melding together. The aroma wraps itself around you, warm and grounding, a promise of the meal to come.

When the food is done, the three of you gather at your small round dining table. The plates are filled with comfort—steaming rice, perfectly cooked vegetables, and savory flavors that speak of home. Yoongi hums faintly in approval as he eats, his silence a language of contentment. Namjoon, ever the conversationalist, smiles wide as he asks about the neighborhood. You don’t know much yet, but his enthusiasm fills the gaps.

The meal lingers, rich and satisfying, until the plates are empty and the room carries only the faint scent of what was. They stand to leave, hugs exchanged at the door, their warmth momentarily shielding you from the cold creeping back in. As they drive off, the truck rattling softly into the night, the quiet returns. But this time, it feels different. Not empty.

Your home, though still half-full of boxes, feels alive now, touched by their presence. And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Silence settles again, fragile and heavy—except for that faint sound of a guitar, now joined by a man’s voice. It drifts through the stillness, soft and haunting, the kind of melody that reaches into places you didn’t know were aching. From the little you can hear, his voice holds a quiet sorrow, tinged with a beauty that seems almost too fragile for this world. Wrapped in the haze of a full belly and the gentle pull of exhaustion, you sink deeper into the cushions of your couch. The music lulls you, and before you know it, sleep claims you.

When you wake, it’s to the sharp protest of stiff muscles, your body groaning in rebellion. You stretch, long and languid, wincing as you ease into movement. The living room light is still on, casting a warm but tired glow across the scattered boxes. Reaching for your phone, you blink at the screen: Saturday morning.

A sigh escapes you, accompanied by another stretch, your bones clicking softly in protest. As you yawn, the faint strands of music that lulled you to sleep the night before have grown bolder, louder, weaving through the quiet morning air. It’s coming from next door, a melody more insistent now, rising and falling like a tide against your walls.

You pause, half-annoyed, half-curious. Who plays music so loudly on a Saturday morning? Still, it isn’t unpleasant. The sound curls around you, melancholy and mesmerizing, coaxing goosebumps to bloom along your arms.

Shaking off the morning grogginess, you shuffle into the kitchen to make tea, the faint chill of the floor against your bare feet grounding you. As the kettle hums and hisses to life, your attention drifts back to the music. This song, like the one before, carries a sadness that pierces through its beauty, the kind of sorrow that feels personal yet strangely universal.

You sip your tea slowly, the warmth unfurling through your chest, and let the notes wrap around you. The lyrics, muffled but achingly tender, float into your thoughts. A sad love song, you think—heartache distilled into sound.

And then, for a fleeting moment, your mind wanders. Who is your neighbor, and what might they be feeling? It’s hard not to wonder. To play songs like this on a quiet Saturday morning—it speaks of longing, of loss, of someone trying to untangle the knots of their heart.

Exhaustion anchors you to the couch, your body heavy with the weight of weeks spent unpacking, working, and simply trying to adjust. The hours blur together as you let yourself drift, half-lost in the steady stream of music flowing from your neighbor’s house. Sad love songs, one after another, their melodies curling through the air like smoke, filling the silence with their ache. At least your neighbor has good taste; the voice is mesmerizing, familiar, tugging at the edges of your memory. And then it clicks: you’ve heard it before, floating from car radios or playing softly in cafes.

Nearly two weeks slip by, the days stacked like unopened letters. Despite the proximity, you’ve yet to meet your enigmatic neighbor, though their music has become an unintentional soundtrack to your life. Namjoon, ever the social butterfly, has nudged you more than once to pay them a visit. “Just say hi,” he urged, grinning. But socializing hasn’t exactly been high on your list, not when there are boxes to unpack, deadlines to meet, and your energy drained to its dregs.

Still, a seed of worry takes root. The songs haven’t changed—still steeped in longing, still carrying that unshakable sadness. Day after day, it’s as if the house next door is exhaling heartbreak. Maybe Namjoon’s right. Maybe you should go introduce yourself, ask about the neighborhood, and gently check if everything’s okay.

Which is how you find yourself walking up the snow-dusted path to your neighbor’s door, nerves prickling like the winter air against your skin. Their house looms larger than yours, its quiet elegance a subtle reminder of its age and stature. Even the door, frosted glass like your own, feels imposing—a pale barrier between curiosity and the answers waiting behind it.

Your footsteps crunch softly on the frozen ground as you approach. You hesitate, your breath clouding in the cold, before raising a hand to knock. For good measure, you press the doorbell too, its chime echoing faintly into the stillness.

And then you wait, heart thrumming in quiet anticipation.

The music drifts out from the house, faint yet achingly persistent, wrapping around you like the winter chill. You shift on your feet, blowing warmth into your hands, impatient as the cold nips at your nose and fingers. Just as the thought of retreating crosses your mind, the door creaks open.

Your gaze lowers, meeting a pair of wide, brown curious eyes belonging to a little girl. She’s impossibly small, bundled in a sweater too big for her, her dark hair a gentle mess. Her smile, shy but sweet, carries a warmth that momentarily pushes back the frost.

“Hi,” she says, her voice as soft as a whisper of wind through snow-covered trees. She studies you carefully, her head tilting as though trying to puzzle you out.

You return her smile, bending slightly to her level. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I just moved in next door.” A pause, then a gentle laugh. “I was getting a little worried with all the sad music coming from here. Are your parents home?”

Her smile falters, her gaze flickering downward before rising to meet yours again. There’s something heavy in her small expression, far too much for a child her age. “It’s just me and my dad,” she says quietly, her voice tinged with something you can’t quite name.

Your heart clenches at her words, though you don’t fully understand why. She’s so young, so sweet, and yet there’s a fragility to her presence that stirs something protective in you. For a moment, you wonder about her mother, where she might be, what might have happened.

“Is your dad home?” you ask gently, your tone as soft as your smile.

She nods, stepping back into the warm glow of the house. “I’ll go get him. Please wait here,” she says, her words so polite they make you smile again. She scurries off, leaving you at the threshold with the frosty air swirling in around your feet.

As you stand there, you catch glimpses of the house’s interior: the dim light casting long shadows, the faint smell of wood and something floral, and always that music—a bittersweet tune that seeps into every corner.

When she returns, she isn’t alone. A man follows her, his presence filling the doorway.

Your breath catches, your jaw slack as your mind struggles to process the sight before you. You’d expected the father of the sweet little girl to be ordinary, unassuming. But this? This man? He’s a vision pulled straight from the realm of angels.

The first thing you notice is his presence—tall, confident, yet carrying a quiet weariness that tugs at the edges of his posture. He’s dressed simply, but somehow that makes him all the more striking. A plain white t-shirt stretches across his chest, the sleeves rolled just enough to bare sinewy arms, and on his wrist, a faint tattoo peeks out like a secret. His black dress pants sit high on his impossibly small waist, falling loosely down his legs in elegant folds, a sharp contrast to the effortless way he carries himself.

And then there’s his face—soft yet devastatingly sharp, a contradiction of beauty. His jawline is so defined, it looks as if it could carve through stone, and yet his full lips, slightly parted as if mid-thought, ground him in warmth. His eyes—soft brown, tender, and framed by glasses and sleeplessness—pull you in, speaking of long nights and untold stories.

His hair, warm blonde kissed with streaks of brown at the roots, falls in uneven waves, longer in the back. It looks as if it was tousled by the wind or restless fingers, and you can’t help but wonder if he even knows how effortlessly beautiful he is. A few faint birthmarks dot his skin, adding something human to a face that feels otherworldly. As he steps closer, his features soften even more, and your pulse quickens.

“Hi,” he says, his voice a low, soothing melody that sinks into your bones. It’s angelic yet grounded, the kind of sound that lingers, reverberating long after the words are spoken. “What can I do for you?”

For a moment, you forget how to speak, how to breathe, how to exist. All your intentions, your purpose, your very reason for knocking on his door dissolve under the weight of his gaze. You can only stare, unmoored, helplessly captivated.

“This lady said she’s our new neighbor,” the girl chirps beside him, her bright voice cutting through your daze like sunlight through clouds. She looks up at her father with a grin, and he nods, clearing his throat.

He steps closer, extending a hand toward you, the motion deliberate and polite. His hand is warm when it meets yours, soft in a way that belies the calluses at his fingertips—marks of labor, of skill, of a life lived.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” he says with a gentle smile, and you realize your heart is racing, thundering in your chest like it’s trying to escape.

“My name is Jimin, and this is my daughter, Hwa-Young,” he says, his voice soft yet resonant, like the distant hum of a melody that refuses to be forgotten. It’s only then that you realize—mortifyingly—that you’re still holding his hand, the warmth of his palm grounding you far too much. With a jolt, you release it, your cheeks burning like embers, the sting of your foolishness wrapping itself around you. This is why you don’t talk to people, you scold yourself silently. You’re a mess. A fool.

The moment blurs, and you barely register Jimin’s words as he politely repeats something—was it your name? Before you can respond, Hwa-Young steps in, her voice clear and chiming with youthful certainty. “Her name is Y/N,” she declares with the pride of someone who’s solved a puzzle.

Jimin smiles, his expression warm enough to melt the frost clinging to your thoughts, and opens the door wider. “Would you like to come inside for a cup of tea, Y/N?”

You nod mutely, words lodged somewhere between your heart and throat. Speaking feels too dangerous; your silence, you hope, can’t betray how tangled your thoughts have become.

Inside, the house welcomes you with a kind of quiet charm. You peel off your coat and shoes, swapping them for a pair of slippers left by the entryway. The hallway leads you into a living room bathed in soft, creamy tones, its minimalist style broken only by the unmistakable fingerprint of family. Children’s drawings hang on the walls in uneven rows, their vibrant colors a stark but beautiful contrast to the muted decor. A small clay sculpture, wobbling slightly on its base, sits proudly on a side table. It feels like stepping into a story—a place where every corner holds a piece of life lived and loved.

Jimin gestures toward the sofa, and you sink into its inviting cushions, the fabric soft against your fingers. Hwa-Young follows, nestling beside you with a quiet familiarity, her presence grounding. From the nearby kitchen, the faint clatter of porcelain and the rustling of tea packets signal Jimin’s quiet movements.

The room feels alive with warmth, not just from the home itself but from the gentle energy of its inhabitants. You take it all in—the way the light filters through the curtains in golden streaks, the faint scent of lavender mingling with the hum of boiling water, and the soft chatter of a child’s imagination as Hwa-Young shows you a paper star she made.

You glance toward the kitchen, where Jimin moves with unhurried grace, and a strange calm settles over you. Maybe, just maybe, this unexpected meeting wasn’t such a mistake after all.

“Are you from the city?” Hwa-Young asks, her voice bright with curiosity, her smile tugging at the corners of her youthful face. You nod, mirroring her smile with one of your own.

“Yes, I just moved in about two weeks ago,” you reply, the words tumbling out like snowflakes in the quiet. “How old are you?”

“I just turned ten!” she exclaims, her voice brimming with pride, her grin wide and unrestrained. Somehow, the innocence in her joy stirs something deep within you, a warmth that begins to thaw the cold edges of your weary heart.

“Congratulations,” you say softly, folding your hands in your lap as if to hold the fragile moment still.

Jimin enters the room, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. He sets them gently on the coffee table, the soft clink of ceramic against wood breaking the silence. With effortless grace, he disappears briefly, returning with a glass of water for his daughter. As he takes his seat in a plush chair opposite you, his presence feels both calming and grounding, like the steady rhythm of a familiar song.

“How are you liking the town so far?” he asks, his voice carrying a soothing cadence, as if he’s accustomed to drawing out answers with kindness alone.

Lifting the mug to your lips, you blow softly on the surface of the tea, the fragrant steam curling upward like a wisp of memory. “I like it so far,” you say, your tone reflective, as though you’re still making sense of this new chapter in your life.

The faintest flicker of realization ignites, and you remember the reason for your visit. You set the mug down, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I haven’t seen much of it yet. Between work and unpacking, I’ve barely had a chance to explore. But, actually…”

He takes another sip of his tea, and you can’t help but let your gaze linger. The delicate curve of his lashes, impossibly long and casting soft shadows on his cheekbones, draws your attention. His lips—pink, full, and unassuming—meet the edge of the mug, and for a brief, absurd moment, you find yourself wondering how something so simple could be so captivating.

What are you even thinking? You shake off the thought, clearing your throat.

“Ah, yes,” you stammer, a little too loudly. “I couldn’t help but notice…” You trail off, grappling for the right words. “I’ve heard a lot of sad songs coming from your house since I moved in, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Like, not…heartbroken or anything?”

Your words hang in the air, an awkward tangle of concern and curiosity, and you silently curse yourself for blurting them out. Was that a question or a statement? Even you aren’t sure.

But then he smiles—a real, genuine smile—and for a split second, his eyes vanish into crescents of warmth. His teeth peek out, slightly crooked, but so charming it nearly takes your breath away. Running a hand through his tousled blonde hair, he chuckles softly, his laugh like a melody in itself.

“Oh, that’s me. I’m the one guilty of all the sad music,” he admits, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that makes you feel at ease despite your earlier awkwardness.

Your brow furrows in thought as you tap your pointer finger against your lips, the name of the voice eluding you. “What’s the name of the artist? I know I’ve heard him on the radio, but I just can’t place it…”

His smile blooms, radiant and unrestrained, his eyes crinkling into crescents of pure light. “That’s me,” he says, a giggle escaping his lips, soft and melodic like the hum of a lullaby.

You blink at him, utterly perplexed, your mind spinning as you try to piece together what he could mean. “Sorry?” you venture hesitantly, hoping for clarity, your confusion painted plainly across your face.

“The artist,” he explains, his voice effortlessly calm and sure, “is Park Jimin. And I’m Park Jimin.”

The name lands in your ears, but it takes a second longer for the meaning to sink in. His daughter bursts into delighted laughter, while you sit frozen, your expression surely something straight out of a cartoon—wide eyes, jaw unhinged, disbelief written all over you.

Your thoughts race, chasing one another in circles. His voice, angelic and hauntingly beautiful, had felt familiar from the moment you heard it. And suddenly, the puzzle clicks into place. The songs—the ones that wrapped around you like a bittersweet embrace—were his. His.

Your eyes dart toward one of the rooms down the hall, where the music had been flowing endlessly up until the moment he greeted you. But now, the silence is palpable, a stillness that confirms your dawning realization. It wasn’t the stereo at all. It was him.

“Daddy, show her a song!” Hwa-Young pipes up, her small voice brimming with excitement as she hops off the couch and scampers toward a room. The door is ajar, revealing a glimpse of equipment and scattered papers.

Jimin’s smile softens, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle invitation. Without a word, he rises and gestures for you to follow. And as though caught in a spell, you do, your curiosity pulling you forward.

His studio is a world unto itself—a symphony of black and white, sleek lines, and personal chaos. Guitars in all shapes and sizes line the walls, their polished bodies gleaming under soft light. A microphone stands at attention, its cable curling like a lifeline to the scattered pages of sheet music littering the desk and floor.

It’s not just a room; it’s a glimpse into his soul, a sanctuary of sound and vulnerability. You can’t help but let your gaze linger, taking in the effortless beauty of it all.

Hwa-Young leaps onto the couch with a boundless energy that only a child can muster, the cushions bouncing under her weight. She pats the spot beside her, a silent invitation laced with an innocent warmth. You accept, settling in as Jimin crosses the room with a quiet confidence, his every movement purposeful yet unassuming. He retrieves an acoustic guitar, its wood glowing faintly under the soft overhead light, and perches on a nearby stool.

“Play her that new song, dad,” Hwa-Young beams, her voice lilting with pride and affection. She leans back into the couch, her tiny frame dwarfed by its embrace, but her presence fills the room.

Jimin nods, a soft smile tugging at his lips, and then his fingers meet the strings. A single strum reverberates, low and tender, a sound that seems to dissolve the walls and pull you into a different world.

And then he sings.

His voice flows like a stream over smooth stones—gentle, searching, yet laced with a fragile ache. Feather-light and haunting, it brushes against you, delicate as a whisper yet powerful enough to root you in place. “We never met, but she’s all I see at night.Never met but she’s always on my mind.Wanna give her the world,And so much more.Who is my heart waiting for?If every day I think about her,Yeah, every day of my life.Then tell me why I haven’t found her.”

Each note hangs in the air like a secret meant only for this moment, for you, for the stillness that has settled over the room. Your mind empties, swept clean by the sheer beauty of his voice, each syllable carrying raw emotion that you can’t help but feel, though it’s not your story to claim.

You watch him, this man who pours his heart so freely before a stranger, as if vulnerability were as natural as breathing. His fingers dance over the strings with practiced ease, but it’s the weight in his voice—the yearning, the quiet pain—that lingers in your chest.

A flicker of a question rises, unbidden, as you take in the scene—a renowned singer-songwriter, his talent unmistakable, living humbly in this crappy and cheap neighborhood. Why here? Why this place, when his voice alone could carry him anywhere? But the question dissipates as quickly as it forms, lost in the tide of his music. At this moment, none of it matters.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv

→ Series taglist: @13-manggaetteok @mima795 @hnnnjm @flaneuseonthestreets @miniesjams32 @graydolan12

→ Author’s endnote: soooo?? Tell me everything! What do you think about Jimin? Is he stealing your heart yet, or is it his adorable daughter who’s totally got you wrapped around her tiny finger? 👀💜 And don’t even get me started on what’s coming next... are you excited? Nervous? Ready to cry?? Because trust me, the next chapter has all the feels™. Let’s hear your thoughts—I’m dying to know!

#remmykinsff <3 #remmy <3 #fic: songs of the heart #fic review

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naturesapphic · 1 day ago

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mommy nat x little reader where she has an anxiety attack and nat holds her and sings her a lullaby to calm her down🤍

Lullaby

Mommy!natasha romanoff x little!fem!reader

Warnings: age regression, hurt/comfort, mentions of needles and a doctor

You were playing with your toys when you heard your mommy’s voice from across the room. She was busy doing paperwork and you haven’t gotten to see her much today so when you heard her voice, you immediately got up and walked toward it. You see that she’s talking on the phone so you waited until she was done.

“Yes, yes she will see you tomorrow Doctor Cho. Thank you goodbye.” Nat said as she hung up the phone and you felt your heart drop at the name your mommy just mentioned. Dr. Cho. Meaning that you will be going to the doctors and you absolutely hated going to any sort of doctors appointment. Natasha looked up to see you looking up at her with a terrified expression which caused her to sigh.

“Baby-“ Natasha started to say but you cut her off by running away crying. You ran to your room and hid under your bed as you sobbed your eyes out, while holding onto your stuffie. Natasha came into your room and heard your cries which caused her heart to break at the sound of it. She went to the edge of your bed and went on her hands and knees, looking under the bed to find you curled into a ball crying.

“Babygirl, come on out. Come to mommy Angel.” Natasha said softly and you whimpered and shook your head no, scared that she will take you to the doctors right then and there. Natasha sighed and carefully went under the bed and gently pulled you out which caused you to cry more. “Baby we aren’t going to the doctors today, we are going tomorrow.” She reassured you and you sniffled, burying your face in her neck. “All dr. Cho is going to do is give you your yearly check up, that’s all love bug I promise.” Your mommy said softly while giving you a forehead kiss.

“S-shots?” You said looking up at her with a scared look plastered on your face. “Maybe baby but hey, mommy will be right there with you yeah? You are the bravest little baby I know. Remember? You are just like mommy, my little baby widow.” Your mommy says with a big smile and you gave her a little smile but then you start to freak out again because the thought of needles make you scared to death. Natasha shushed you quietly and started to gently rock you in her arms. “Take a deep breath baby, then out, then in. Repeat it with me princess.” She said calmly as she guided you through it.

After a few minutes of some breathing exercises you were still pretty upset so she decided to sing a Russian lullaby that her mother used to sing to her when she was little and now Natasha sings to you. You laid on her chest as she starts to hum your favorite song and you felt her chest moving as she sung quietly. Closing your eyes, you slowly drift off to sleep in your mommy’s arms, the one place you always felt safe at. Natasha gently stood up with you in her arms and went to tuck you into bed, lifting the other side of the covers up so she can lay next to you. She wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you close to her and started singing the lullaby once more, lulling you into a deep sleep, knowing you are protected by your mommy.

A/n: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! I’m trying to come back guys I swear, it’s just been hard since I’ve been busy and resting as much as I can, having some problems with my back so it’s been hard to do really anything but I’m gonna post some more fics today don’t worry :) I hope yall enjoyed it and that the anon did as well. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves, I love yall :)

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sirenesolace · 1 day ago

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SOLAR RETURN CHART 2024!!

Solar return charts usually last until your next one BUT because the year is almost over, i wanted to look at some of the predictions my chart indicated😸 some of them were WILD so hold on tight!!

DISCLAIMER: I am NOT a professional astrologer and these are just OBSERVATIONS I am doing purely for having fun!! My aspects or placements may not turn out like yours so don’t worry 💕 These observations were made thanks to several already written posts on here about solar return charts, my personal experience and some researches😽

HAPPY HOLIDAY ❄️☃️

————————————————☆★!!

VIRGO RISING: starting with the rising sign. I read on here (I’ll try my best to tag the creators), that the year you have Virgo rising on your solar return chart, will one of your busiest years, and BOY WAS I BUSY. I started college (as indicated with my packed 9th house) and every time I thought I could relax there was a new assignment to do or notes to take for a class. I was practically drowning in homework.

SATURN + NEPTUNE 7TH HOUSE: because I was so busy all the time, i barely had time to really form any romantic relationship even tho I daydreamed about it a lot (Neptune). I was rejecting people + dates left and right, because I was busy but also I am very inexperienced with relationships: so I was sorta scared of diving into them. (Saturn representing blockage and fears in the house of relationships). Another interesting point was me manifesting and visualizing a relationship with a specific man (Neptune)

9TH HOUSE STELLIUM: I not only started college this year, but I also traveled a lot! A lot of my travels were done by plane this year. I went to a whole new country, and visited some family in another country.

4TH HOUSE LORD IN THE 9TH: the 4th house sign is Jupiter, and it’s placed in the 9th house; because I am going to college in a new country, I moved away from my home country. I’m already settled in and I absolutely LOVE the city I’m studying in😸! The people there are so freaking sweet and nice!

SUN + VENUS IN 11th HOUSE: I made sooo much friends this year and I’ve gotten so much compliments 🤭 I also became so confident this year, and that reflected in my reality. Compliments from strangers were so common this year. People would literally walk up to me and tell me the most unique compliments. It wouldn’t be the 11th house if i didn’t talk about social media. I started posting so much more on my socials (which is funny because before my solar return I took a social media break). I gained so much followers and overall focus on posting + creating content. Also I took manifesting seriously this year and gotten so much of my desires.

CHIRON 8TH HOUSE: I avoided having intimate relationships so much this year💀 Not necessarily a bad thing for me, but it’s very paradoxical knowing that I was wishing to have it so bad. I honestly was very avoidant and kinda scared to be intimate because I never experienced it AND before I can be intimate, I have to truly love someone intensely. That didn’t happen so I’m actually glad I wasn’t intimate with anyone. The solar return chart will run all the way to 2025 until my birthday (July 12th) so who knows 😛

JUNO 21°, 1ST HOUSE: I kid you not, a stranger that saw me at my hotel (while on vacation in a foreign country) asked my mom for my hand in marriage 😭😭 my mom speaks little English so he google translated what he needed to say to my mom💀 Juno in the 21st degree makes it interesting because it’s linked to Sagittarius: languages, foreign countries and long distance .

MOON 5°, 1ST HOUSE: I read on here (pls help me tag the creator) that planets at a 5° signify change. The moon is linked to menstrual cycles and because 2024 was a leap year, there was a change in my cycle. I also became better at regulating my emotions (I started meditating, doing breath work and Yoga) and became better at transmuting them so I could persist in my manifestation instead of having break downs about my reality.

LEO MERCURY IN 12TH HOUSE: I DID ACTING!! One of the things I manifested for myself. I did theatre and I had so much fun playing the character. The ugly side was that I was extremely drained from doing homework, coming late from rehearsal and I was barely sleeping + eating (literally had a breakdown multiple time and I was hopping they would kick me out the show). One of the directors (FUCK THAT BITCH) literally didn’t care fr and acted like she did. It’s a relief my mom came to visit the week before the big show and stayed with me till now. I was well fed and had so much energy because of it. Show went extremely well and my cast members kept mentioning how much the audience always were more responsive when I was on stage, so that made me so happy that they loved it🥹 One thing is that I’m never joining the theatre club again. It’s extremely demanding with my time and as much as I enjoyed acting, what I went through wasn’t worth my sanity😭 The next time I will be acting, I know it will be film acting instead because i didn’t enjoy theatre acting that much.

VIRGO AURA CONJUNCT ASC: this one was super interesting. People kept telling me you give off the vibe of someone who’s super intelligent, organized, confident and focused on her study. The word “aura” at the moment is very well known to mean “someone who radiates a lot of power/confidence” and people have told me I do radiate that; because of it I’ve gained a lot of suitors and admires (men and women).

PLUTO 5TH HOUSE: This one is gonna be a STRETCH but, I think Pluto here kinda explains me feeling burnt out about theatre 😭 the 5th house does govern this so I think it makes sense. 5th house also governs crushes and casual relationships, and i tried to avoid these as much as possible this year. I will say that I did have at least 1 crush this year which was super exciting knowing that I haven’t had one for 3 years. He acted like a “know it all”, was not a gentleman, did nicotine (one of my biggest turn offs) and when I finally did want to make time for him/ tried to reciprocate his feelings (because he literally loved me from the first time we met💀), he kept giving me mixed signals. I take a mixed signals as a “No” so I immediately stopped giving him any attention after that.

I hope you guys had as much fun reading as I had fun making this😽

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cakepoppresent · 1 day ago

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Shareholders are Worse When Idle

Vaghun just wants the best for his Little Lady~

Transcript under the cut~

[Vaghun]: Its nice running into you here Princess.

[Veronica]: You stalking me now Leary?

[Vaghun]: Not at all. Just a coincidence.

[Veronica]: No such thing as coincidences when it comes to you. You just happened to be at Xavier's school? For what?

[Vaghun]: The Leary's are alumni of the school, I’m here on behalf of my father for a meeting. Seeing you is just a nice treat

[Veronica]: Whatever.

[Veronica]: Is that right? Thats weird since I don’t actually want to speak with you. You can leave~

[Vaghun]: It’s good that I caught you here. I’ve been meaning to speak to you

[Vaghun]: It’s important Princess. Has to do with you working with your father

[Veronica]: Excuse me?

[Vaghun]: I’ve been hearing rumours you’re having issues gaining the trust of the shareholders

[Veronica]: It’s just rumors. I’m doing just fine, nothing to worry about

[Vaghun]: Of course not Princess but shareholders can be vicious and I’m worried for you.

[Veronica]: “Worried for me?” Get over yourself. My work ethic and results speak for itself. The shareholders are just old losers with nothing to do

[Veronica]: Wait...What the hell are you saying?

[Vaghun]: Its not just about work ethic. They wanna know if you have any pull with other influential families in San My. And I’ve heard that’s not the case and that’s why they’re worried. Nothing good comes from worried shareholders

[Vaghun]: I’m saying you have no backing and they think you’re weak. Your father owning the company isn’t enough, especially if you're being groomed to take over

[Veronica]: Just stop talking for a second. Just shut up. Where are you hearing all of this? You know more about my company than I do? How?

[Vaghun]: The perks of being a Leary. We have eyes everywhere

[Veronica]: Don’t piss me off right now. You sound like a fucking creep

[Vaghun]: I’m just worried for you Princess. Its better that you know and be prepared

[Vaghun]: I don’t want to scare you Princess but I don’t want you to be blindsided if they try to pull the rough from underneath your feet

[Veronica]: Why hasn’t my dad said anything to me. I’m just supposed to take your word for it?

[Vaghun]: My sources are a bit different than your fathers but I'm sure he’s already aware

[Veronica]: I need to talk to my Dad about this

[Vaghun]: Let me help you Princess. This is something I specialize in

[Veronica]: God...This is the worst. Let me thi-

[Xavier]: Vaghun!!! I missed you so much!!

[Vaghun]: Little Dude! You’re looking much bigger now. What are they feeding you?

[Xavier]: Vaghun!!! I missed you so much!!

[Vaghun]: Little Dude! You’re looking much bigger now. What are they feeding you?

[Xavier]: Steak! Are you here with Veronica!? Can we all go out and eat?!

[Vaghun]: Unfortunately not Little Dude. I have a meeting with the school

[Xavier]: Awh...That’s so boring

[Xavier]: How long is your meeting? We can wait! Right V?! We’re just going home! Lets go eat!! Then to the aracade!!

[Veronica]: Absolutely not. You’re forgetting you’re grounded, I’m taking your ass right back home!

[Vaghun]: Grounded? You rob a bank or something?

[Xavier]: Nothing! I took my friends to have fun! There’s no crime in that

[Veronica]: Incorrect. Skipping your tutor lessons and spending over $500 at an arcade isn’t “nothing”

[Vaghun]: Can’t get you outta this one but once you're free I can take you out. With your sister's permission of course

[Veronica]: Hmm...I’ll think about it

[Xavier]: Ughhhh We don’t even have to tell Mom or Dad! Lets just go out and eat!

[Veronica]: No. Accept your punishment's and get over it

[Vaghun]: Don’t worry Little Dude. I’ll see you soon

[Veronica]: You can book an appointment with my secretory if you wanna speak with me Leary

[Vaghun]: We have more to talk about Princess. I just want to help

[Vaghun]: I can do that. See you soon Gorgeous

[Veronica]: Whatever

#sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims #thereevesfamily #black simblr #ts4 screenshots #ts4 screenies #ts4 stories #ts4 story #ts4 simblr #sims community #we are back kinda...#i should be more consistent starting next week #fingers crossed lol

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foreststarflaime · 1 day ago

Note

Do you think Soldiers scar?

Oooo good question! Hmm well disregarding the effects of degradation—bc I think post-cc Genesis would absolutely have a big nasty scar on his shoulder—I’m kinda conflicted about it.

On the one hand. It would make degradation even scarier if they didn’t. They’re so used to having no wound able to leave a mark on them at all for any extended amount of time, and then all of a sudden there’s a wound, no matter how severe, that just won’t leave no matter what. That would be terrifying I imagine.

And also there’s the matter of Sephiroth having his whole chest out in his uniform. And really Sephiroth in general. Hojo says somewhere in ff7r that it’s better to mar the mind than the body (iirc—sometime when he’s talking about Aerith I think?), and yet we know from the pumpkin soup event that Hojo has physically tortured Seph in the past. So it would make sense if he did that bc he was beyond scarring, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about an open uniform potentially exposing the horrors of what he’s doing to poor Seph.

On the other hand. I want Angeal and/or Genesis to accidentally catch sight of a scar that’s slightly too perfect to have been made in the heat of battle. I want the angst that would come out of that confrontation. I want Hojo dead when they realize. So probably soldiers wouldn’t scar in canon actually because this did not appear to have happened.

But OH RIGHT we’re forgetting that Zack canonically has a face scar! But it was inflicted by Angeal, another SOLDIER, so maybe that has something to do with the severity of the wound? Maybe Angeal’s greater force hit him hard enough to scar, and/or maybe Zack neglected care to the wound afterwards being numb with shock of that terrible day.

A compromise. Perhaps SOLDIERs are less likely to scar the more mako that gets pumped into them. So the lower ranks can get scars, especially if they get more severe wounds, but when you get up the power scale to people like AGS it becomes nearly unheard of

#asks #star rambles #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #crisis core #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7

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stripedstarsblueflags · 17 hours ago

Text

Sunshine boy

Word count: 3.5k

Pairing: Landoscar

Rating: T for substance use

caught in the rain

omg did blueflags just write fluff?

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Oscar says. “Remind me how you got this number?”

On the other end of the line, Max Fewtrell is not amused. “Mate, I’ve had it,” he grumbles, huffing into the speaker like he’s struggling with something. Oscar winces at the static and pulls the phone away from his ear. “And, seriously, you’re worried about that now? We’ve got bigger problems.”

From the background, a giggling voice slurs, “Hi Osc!”

Oscar allows himself one second of blushing and butterflies at hearing Lando’s voice; then Max’s concern spreads to him as well. He listens as Max attempts to calm him down from… whatever’s going on. “Hey, Lando, come on, look at me… take some deep breaths– no, no, don’t eat that–”

“What’s going on?” Oscar interjects, standing up and pacing. His anxiety is immediately conjuring up worst-case scenarios, and it’s not helping. He walks to the window and looks out at the night outside; some fresh air would be nice, but it’s been absolutely pouring for the last few hours and shows no signs of abating now. “Is he okay?”

“I’m okay!” Lando sings, so loud into the speaker that Oscar flinches and nearly drops the phone. There’s some more scuffling on their line, presumably as Max swipes his phone back. “He’s not,” Max contradicts firmly as Lando whines petulantly in the background. He has to raise his voice over a white-noise roar in the background, Oscar notes.

“Did he take something?” Oscar asks. He looks to the front door where he’s left his shoes. He thinks about driving fast in this kind of rain– it’s not that he can’t do it, it’s that none of the other drivers on the road can. “And where are you guys?”

“I found him in a park, stoned out of his mind,” Max tells him. The roar in the background gets louder, like a busy street. “I don’t know who he was smoking with, he’s not really giving me complete sentences, but–”

“That’s because you’re not nice,” Lando complains. “See? That’s complete. Tha’s very complete…”

As worried as he is, Oscar can’t help but feel an almost painful sense of endearment. As cute as he is, though, Lando has apparently had some lapses of judgement tonight.

“Are you outside?” Oscar asks, just as a roll of thunder rumbles overhead. “In this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Max says, urgency creeping into his tone. “He’s locked out. No keys, no wallet. He called me on a payphone. I mean, thank god I know his spots…”

Oscar swears under his breath. He can’t take his eyes away from the storm outside, the way the rain slices through the air in cold sheets and spills over rooftops with whitewater force. “Okay, okay,” he says, mostly to himself as he tries to thinks. “You drove there, right? Can you at least–”

“We’re walking to my car right now,” Max confirms. “And normally I’d just let him crash at mine, but I’ve got family visiting this weekend. They can’t see him like this. Fuck, Lando, I told you to keep your arm around my shoulders– sorry,” Max apologizes. “He’s a lot to handle right now. Listen, Oscar, I’ve already called half a dozen people. If there was anyone else, I wouldn’t–”

Oscar puts the pieces together over Max’s fumbling. “You want to drop him off at mine?”

“I’ve got a spare,” Max says quickly, talking in a rush like he’s scared Oscar will hang up. “Somewhere, I mean. I didn’t have time to find it before I went out to get him, I can go back to my place and look for it properly but I don’t know how long that’s gonna take and I don’t want to leave him alone in the car too long and–”

“Max, it’s fine,” Oscar interrupts. It’s only when Max sighs, full of relief, that he starts wrapping his head around what he’s just agreed to.

“Thank you,” Max tells him sincerely. “You’re a good guy, Oscar. Knew I could count on you.”

Oscar bites his lip against the sudden warmth in his face, overwhelmed by the compliment, and tries to push his embarrassment aside. “Right,” he mutters. “Um, don’t mention it. How far away are you?”

“I need your address, first.”

Lando, sounding no less coherent, pipes up: “‘S in my phone already.”

“What?” Oscar and Max say at the same time.

“Lando, you don’t have your phone,” Max reminds him. Then, to Oscar: “Why does he have your address?”

“Um–” Oscar is uncharacteristically flustered at the interrogative tone in Max’s voice, which seems to imply something far beyond the mundane situation. “Uh, he dropped me off from padel, once, we were playing with–”

“Okay, yeah,” Max concedes. Whatever that edge was in his voice (suspiciously like jealousy) is smoothed out before Oscar can make sense of it. “Listen, just text me your address and I’ll tell you when we’re close. Also, uh–” Max clears his throat. “He’s, like, soaking wet, so–”

“I’ll take care of him,” Oscar assures him.

“Oscooooo,” Lando coos happily.

He hears Max open a car door, and the call ends sometimes in the midst of Max trying to manhandle Lando into the passenger seat, which is a relief. Oscar doesn’t think he can say a single word without stammering now.f

If Lando sounded out of it on the phone, Oscar is definitely not prepared for what’s standing on his doorstep.

Both Max and Lando are drenched to the bone, water pooling under their shoes and into the hallway carpet. Max must’ve given one of his layers to Lando because he’s only wearing a t-shirt, which is plastered to his skin and nearly transparent. Despite the extra jumper, Lando’s shaking so badly that Max has to hold him upright.

“Shit,” Oscar say. “You guys look terrible.”

“Nice to see you too, Oscar,” Max grumbles, slinging Lando’s arm over his shoulders right before he starts sliding.

“Nice to see you, Oscar,” Lando mimicks dopily, eyes glazed. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose are a blotchy red like he’s been badly sunburnt, while the rest of his skin is frighteningly pale. His teeth are chattering too hard for him to keep his mouth closed, and there’s a slight glisten of drool on his chin

Oscar quickly opens the door wider and beckons them both inside. Max struggles to get Lando to coordinate his feet enough to walk; Oscar reaches out instinctively, then immediately draws his hands back like he’s been burned. He aches watching the two of them struggle, but it’s one thing to agree to help Lando, and quite another to… what, cradle him? Carry him? Surely if Lando were sober he’d have objections–

“Did, uh,” he starts eloquently. “Did he, like, OD? Is that even a thing with weed?”

Max shakes his head and braces himself against a wall so he can adjust his grip on Lando’s waist. Lando watches the dark handprint spread under his palm and drip rainwater onto the carpet, mesmerized.

“He didn’t, and no,” Max says, in answer to Oscar’s questions. “But his tolerance is practically nonexistent. Worst I’ve ever seen. And knowing him he probably forgot to eat…”

“Sorry,” Lando mumbles, confirming.

Max sighs. “We’re gonna have a talk about this, you and I. Don’t think you get off easy just cause you’re with Oscar.”

Oscar’s taken aback, but before he can begin to wrap his head around what that might mean, Max nods at him. “Thanks again for your help. I’ll be back as soon as I can to take him home, just gotta remember where I left that fucking key.”

“Okay.” Max is clearly exhausted. Oscar finally reaches out without second-guessing himself; Max looks at him gratefully before stepping closer and finally shifting Lando’s dead weight from his own arms to Oscar’s.

Lando stumbles, nearly knocking them both off balance, and then curls into Oscar immediately. Oscar flinches and draws in a sharp breath; it’s like hugging a block of ice. Lando is absolutely freezing, and his rain-drenched clothes are quickly soaking Oscar as well. He shivers so hard Oscar can hear the spasm in his breathing, everything too tense for him to catch his breath. He closes his eyes and makes a sound like a mewling kitten and burrows into Oscar’s chest, tucking his face into his shirt.

”You got him?” Max asks, flicking water out of his eyes.

Oscar’s got him. One arm wraps firmly around Lando’s waist, maintaining their balance despite the actual pain his bare skin experiences from how cold Lando is, and the other cups the back of his head in his hand and draws his face closer to his own body heat. Lando hums against him, and Oscar can feel the vibration at the base of his sternum.

“Yeah,” Oscar answers belatedly. “I can find some clothes for him, something comfy…”

“Good. You do that.” Max gives him one pained smile, failing to suppress his own shudders, and steps back over the threshold. “I owe you one.”

Before Oscar can explain that Max doesn’t owe him anything, that he’s happy to help, that he would’ve offered without being asked if he’d have known, that’s he’s actually rather irritated that he wasn’t higher up on the list of people Max had called, come to think of it–

Max leaves, closing the door behind him.

Oscar is left alone with a very cold, very wet, very stoned Lando Norris.

Lando’s ragged breathing is the loudest noise in the flat. He’s squirming in Oscar’s arms, nuzzling insistently at his chest like he’s trying to climb inside of Oscar. His hands are so cold they leave painful stinging impressions wherever they touch Oscar’s skin.

“God, Lando,” Oscar murmurs. “You’re freezing.”

Stating the obvious. Lando moans miserably in agreement.

“Yep, okay. Follow me. Uh, can you walk?”

Apparently Lando can, as long as he’s allowed to cling to Oscar like a giant half-frozen octopus at the same time. The walk down the hall to the bedroom is agonizingly slow, but every time Oscar tries to detach himself to get them both moving quicker Lando cries out. He’s very much not in his right mind, but he still sounds so pained that Oscar lets himself be nearly frozen along with him in the simple quest to get to the end of the hall.

He has to physically pry Lando’s arms off him in order to sit him on the bed. Lando whines and reaches out into the air, trying to pull him back and missing atrociously. Oscar peers into his eyes; there’s not a spark of recognition or self-awareness. All Lando understands is that he’s cold, and the only bit of warmth is going away.

”Lando, please, just stay here,” Oscar pleads, only belatedly realizing he’s using the same voice he used with their family dog. “I promise I’ll be right back, I just need to get some extra clothes for you, okay? Something warm.”

“Mm’kay,” Lando mumbles, nodding too many times. He wraps his arms around himself, but his strength is visibly fading. His lips have darkened to a bruise-like blue. Not a good sign.

“Stay here.” Oscar moves quickly, digging through his drawers to find the warmest possible outfit. He gathers everything he needs and turns back to Lando, sitting near-catatonic on his bed, and stalls.

“Um,” he says, clearing his throat when Lando shows no response. “Hey. Lando.”

A flicker of awareness. Lando’s eyes focus on him for a split second, then cross.

Oscar approaches him, tentatively holding out the clothes like he’s holding out a treat to a stray dog. “Bathroom’s over there,” he says, gesturing with his chin. When Lando doesn’t react, he adds, “You need to get out of these clothes. You’re soaked, you’re gonna get sick.”

To his relief, Lando finally seems to hear him; unfortunately, some crucial parts of the sentence have evidently been missed as Lando starts trying to wriggle out of his shirts right there.

“Woah, uh, you sure–“ Oscar squeezes his eyes shut, which is stupid since Lando’s got so many layers on that he’s not even a little indecent, but he finds it easier to talk without looking. “You sure you want to do that here? And not in the bathroom? Or I could like, step out and–”

”No-o-o-!” Landos’ voice is so broken by shivers that Oscar’s resolve simply melts. He steps forward to help his friend.

It’s a lot quicker with the two of them working together. When Oscar finally pulls Lando’s last shirt over his head, exposing his bare chest and arms, he makes such a pained yelp that Oscar scrambles to get the dry clothes on him like he’s being timed.

With a lot of fumbling and strategically averted glances, they finally manage to get Lando completely redressed. His hair is still dripping, but he looks much more comfortable in fleece pajama pants and a hoodie so big it goes down to his thighs. His fingers don’t even reach past the sleeves; it looks like he’s got big paws instead, floppy when he reaches for the hood and pulls it up.

Oscar’s teased Lando about their height difference a few times, but right now he looks tiny. Red-rimmed eyes blinking up at him from the shadow of the hood, shoulders all but swallowed up in the fabric, hands tucked primly inside the sleeves as Lando rocks on his heels.

It feels only natural when Oscar opens his arms and welcomes Lando back into his embrace. Lando, to his credit, seems a lot more coordinated now that he’s not wearing half his weight in rainwater. He slides his arms under Oscar’s and holds him around the waist, letting his head rest on Oscar’s chest like it’s his new favorite pillow. “Thanks, Osc,” he sighs contentedly.

The nickname that can seem so mundane in the media activities feels suddenly, vulnerably intimate. Well, Lando’s never said it with his lips pressed right up against him, has he?

To distract himself, he tries to focus on just getting Lando away from the brink of hypothermia. He tightens his grip and rubs up and down his back with open palms. “You’re still so cold,” he frets, just to have something to say.

“Nmshph’ you,” Lando protests.

Oscar places his warm hand over the back of Lando’s neck, still refrigerator-cold. “What was that?” he asks.

Lando mouths at empty air a few times before he speaks, like he’s trying to form the sentence before his mind is ready. “I said ‘Not with you’,” he answers.

Oscar inhales a little too sharply.

This does not mean anything this does not mean anything this does not–

He just needs to keep the tremor out of his voice. He just needs to be normal about this.

He closes his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll keep you warm.”

To describe Lando’s response as anything other than a purr would be simply delusional.

Oscar’s hands move without his permission, seeking up to run shaky fingers through Lando’s hair. He’s careful to be gentle around the tangles. It’s still wet, but no longer dripping in small waterfalls into his eyes, so that’s an improvement. Lando sways his head from side to side, like he’s encouraging Oscar to keep going.

So he does. Lando’s breathing evens out, the shivering smoothed over. His eyes flutter shut.

“Do you want to lie down?” Oscar asks.

Lando nods tiredly against his chest, so he carefully walks them both over to the bed. Stripping back the covers proves to be a challenge, because Lando is putting more and more weight on him by the minute. His shoulder is starting to cramp up, an unpleasant stiffness making its way into his neck.

“Lando,” he huffs tiredly. “This would be easier if you could just step ba–”

“So pretty,” Lando murmurs.

Now Oscar might be the one turning to ice, with how quickly his whole body falls into stillness. “Uh,” he begins gracelessly, a pillow slipping out of his hands and back onto the mattress with a thwump that makes Lando giggle. “Erm, what was that?”

He’s asking in the confused, self-denying hope that Lando will either realize he didn’t mean what he just said or will have forgotten the thought entirely. No such luck, though, as Lando finally leans against the bed and allows Oscar’s shoulder a much-needed respite. He turns a bit and tries to arch his back to lean away from Oscar without completely detaching himself, but he doesn’t quite have the coordination. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he places his sweater paws on Oscar’s waist.

Looking down at the position, Oscar’s brain short-circuits.

It looks like they’re dancing. Not even in an elegant, romantic way, more like two school kids who are trying not to get caught by the chaperone.

Oscar brings his eyes back to Lando’s upturned face, bedsheets all but forgotten. Lando still looks so small, swimming in Oscar’s clothes, looking up dazedly through his eyelashes. The smile flickering on his lips could light up the whole room. “You’re so pretty,” he hums contentedly. “What are we doing?”

“What?” Oscar snaps himself out of it seconds after the question leaves his mouth; he does not need to give Lando any more prompting. His face is burning. He’s a little out of breath. He needs to find some way to neutralize this situation, to get himself and his own live-wire feelings away from this…. what, danger? temptation?

“We,” he says, answering Lando and talking over his own spiraling stream of consciousness, “are getting you ready for bed. And then Max is going to come back and take you home.”

“Tu tu tu tu…”

“No, not that Max. The other Max.”

Lando nods sleepily and, to Oscar’s immense relief, finally starts climbing into the bed. Oscar puts his hands behind his head so he doesn’t death-drop it into the wall.

Then Lando’s brow furrows. “Why?”

“Wh– because he has a key. To your flat.”

Lando shakes his head. “Why,” he repeats again with a petulant frown. “Got a bed right here.”

Oscar swallows. “Yeah, but that’s my bed.”

Lando shakes his head again and opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but instead settles for reaching into the air and making weak grabby hands for Oscar. “‘s your bed,” he reasons.

Oscar allows himself a split second of imagination: the two of them, curled together under the covers, the whole room blanketed in the shushing sounds of the rain outside. Lando curling into him like he’s finding some sort of sanctuary in Oscar’s arms.

Then he decides his best escape plan is going to be lying through his teeth: “Um, that’s okay, actually, I’m not tired…”

“Yeah, but I am.”

Something about that last sentence sounds scarily sober all of the sudden. Oscar peers into Lando’s eyes, trying to discern the bloodshot threads that mean the drug still has a dominant hold over his mind. In the dim lamplight of his bedroom, it’s hard to tell. Lando seems to like the attention, though, staring back with what can only be described as awe.

“Pretty,” he whispers, his voice barely audible on the edge of a sleepy exhale. His eyelids are starting to slide shut, slow and heavy as syrup. “Come to bed.”

He sounds tired, but he doesn’t sound nearly as out of it as he did even ten minutes ago.

Something between excitement and panic ignites in Oscar’s chest like a gas fire. His mind races two steps ahead of him, providing an onslaught of horrifying what-ifs: what if Lando comes to his senses and pushes him out of the bed, what if he realizes what’s going on and thinks Oscar is trying to insinuate something, what if he changes his mind about what he means when he’s obviously delirious and half-frozen to death, what––

What if he means it?

Whatever the case, the regretful, abrasive Lando in Oscar’s head is nothing compared to what’s curled up in his bed right now. Longing eyes, reaching hands. Rain-matted curls making little loop-shaped impressions on the pillowcase.

Who would he be to say no?

Oscar climbs carefully into the bed.

His initial plans to stay within the narrow strip of space between Lando and the edge of the bed are dashed immediately.

Lando finds him under the blankets and goes full koala. Within seconds of lying down he’s wrapped in so much Lando that the blankets feel like an afterthought. Lando’s practically lying on top of him.

Oscar tries to keep his breathing under control. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to… well, anyone. Their legs are entwined. Lando’s arm is slung across his waist, head back on his chest like he could build a home there.

And the thing is, it doesn’t feel dangerous. It doesn’t feel like temptation.

There’s no fear here, no second-guessing anxiety or hysterical self doubt.

He’s under the covers with Lando, and it feels right.

Lando’s still a little cold. Oscar shifts up just enough to free one of his arms and wrap it around Lando’s shoulders. Lando curls into him, purring again.

It’s nice.

“Thanks, Osc,” Lando sighs, voice muffled by Oscar’s shirt.

Oscar finds his free hand lifting to card through Lando’s hair again. He can’t help it. “Yeah,” he says as Lando nestles in, savoring all the warmth Oscar has to give, “anytime.”

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lissasinclair · 2 days ago

Text

Meeting Arthur at the mental asylum

I was lying on my newfound bed with wheels, staring at the ceiling. My brain was working hard; I was frantically trying to recall all the prayers I’ve ever heard or learnt by heart. So… the first one is to the Guardian Angel… The second is to God Himself… Or maybe God doesn’t really need me to tell Him all those beautiful prayers in rhyme? Maybe I can try to ask Him for help using the simple words and sentences?

I was feeling awful as hell. I was just lying in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t know anything about that place with bars on it’s windows; no street name, no how it was look like. I didn’t know where are my own clothes; I was wearing an ugly washed-out gown that was held at my waist by the two long cords. I wondered how many people used to wear it. It felt uncomfortable and kind of humiliating. I looked and I actually felt really crazy in that.

It was New Year’s Eve, on the 31st of December. And I was lying on the bed with wheels in a big hall of a mental asylum, a mental prison, with a bandage on my left wrist.

There were about twenty to thirty other female patients around me. Some were just lying still on their beds, like me, sleeping maybe; the others seemed kind of nervous and worried about something. I was afraid to look at anyone. I was feeling like I was displaying myself in a shop window. Two medical workers were sitting next to the door, laughing and talking, guarding us.

Guarding us from whom? From ourselves?

I continued talking to God, closing my eyes shut. I wanted so desperately to have some sleep, but I couldn’t. My anxiety and fear kept me awake.

“Hey, you”, - suddenly I heard my last name, - “Get up”.

I instantly opened my eyes, not believing my luck. I was sure that the person who just called my last name would tell me now that all that was nothing but a huge mistake and I could finally leave this prison. God really helped me. He heard my prayers and pleas.

“There’s a doctor coming to talk to you”, - a female medical worker told me in a rough tone.

“Okay…”, - I answered, slowly getting up. I looked around and saw a man in a white coat coming to my bed. He was reading something in the papers that he was holding in his hands; he wasn’t looking at me.

“So”, - he said, continuing to check something in his papers, - “Tell me what happened to you exactly, why did you stab yourself and so on”.

I was taken aback by his words; it was hard for me to tell exactly what happened in front of all the other people around me. Some of the women got curious and I saw them sitting upright in their beds, looking at me with interest.

“Mmm…”, - I mumbled, - “Right here?..”

The doctor narrowed his eyes and finally looked at me: “Yeah. What’s the problem?”

I sighed and tried to compose myself. I told myself that I had to use this opportunity, maybe this man was kind enough to understand me? Maybe he would help me? Maybe this was my chance?

I started to tell him my painful story. It seemed like he had already heard that same story a million times. He interrupted me a lot and I was feeling that for some reason he was kind of annoyed with me.

“I really hope you understand”, - I told him finally, trying to speak more quickly, - “I’m an average girl, I’m absolutely normal; I just lost my self-control for a few minutes”.

“Well…”, - he said, writing down something, - “You’re not normal… You can’t be normal”, - he grinned just for a second, - “If you were normal, you wouldn’t do that”.

After saying that he disappeared, as abruptly as he had entered. I watched his back as he went away. I really didn’t understand what had I said wrong.

I laid down again and closed my eyes.

I didn’t know how many minutes or hours passed. I tried to sleep again, but it was impossible. I heard some desperate screams, loud noises around me, rough and angry voices, clatter of swift footsteps, laughing and crying.

I wished I had a book or just something to distract myself a little; but I wasn’t allowed to have anything personal at all. So my mind was the only thing I had to amuse myself. At least there was something left that they couldn’t take away from me. I didn’t want to pray anymore, ‘cause God obviously wasn’t listening to me. So I started recalling all the poems I’d learnt in my previous life ‘till my mind was completely blank.

“She’s just pathetic”, - I heard a female voice talking suddenly out loud, - “I mean, she is crazy for real”.

“She is unworthy of any respect, isn’t she? Stupid idiot. You heard what she said? She said that she’d chosen a very special knife for that; it means she wanted to do that a long ago”.

I was lying completely motionless with my eyes closed. Those fragments of their conversation were about me. They were also the patients. There were three of them.

They continued to talk about me, mocking at me and laughing about the reason why I was there.

I wished I was bold and strong enough to get up and tell them to stop that; to tell them that they were also there, with me, in the same place, that they weren’t better than me at all.

But I couldn’t move.

In the evening the cries and the screams around me became louder. I tried to pretend I didn’t hear anything.

After dinner that tasted as bad as it looked and remained untouched by me, I heard that we were allowed to watch a movie because of New Year’s Eve. It seemed such a miserable thing to me, getting stuck in there, at the dining hall, watching some stupid movie on a tiny TV-set. Why? To create a special atmosphere full of wonder? Haha…

After being forced to take some medications and finding no way to spit them out, I went to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water under the gaze of a medical worker. I wasn’t allowed to be alone with myself even for a minute. I had a disgusting feeling because of that; the words “big brother is watching you” were spinning in my head.

There were no mirrors at the bathroom. I laughed to myself, suddenly understanding why.

After that I entered the overcrowded dining hall. There were already both male and female patients there. “Wow, they decided to gather all the departments in here, what a joy”, - I thought.

My eyes desperately tried to find an empty seat.

My head was dizzy. My heart was racing. What were those pills they gave me? They always ignored my questions about that and there were no names on the packs. It was kind of a secret? Secret healing?

I sighed and tried my best not to fall on the floor and not to start banging my head against it, crying and screaming, as if I had really gone crazy.

All of a sudden my eyes fixed on an empty sit on the edge of a hall. I rushed there.

There was a man sitting next to it. I felt a little bit nervous; was I allowed to sit there or should I only sit next to women? Ohhh, what a stupid fear.

“Hi… Do you mind if I sit here?”, - I asked him quietly.

He looked up at me and our eyes met. His eyes were sad and lustreless; he looked kind of lost. He was skinny and slender; his clothes were baggy and oversized, engulfing his thin frame. His features were well-defined yet delicate; his cheekbones were pronounced and his cheeks were hollowed; it seemed that his skin clung to the bones; his eyebrows were thick and beautiful; his dark brown messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearingly charming look.

Usually I don’t look people in the eyes, ‘cause I’m kind of afraid of that and I always get anxious; but for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t take my eyes away from his.

“S..ssure…”, - he answered, his voice was nearly above a whisper, - “Hello”.

I sat down next to him, feeling relieved. He seemed to be a rather calm guy; I hoped that he wouldn’t cry or scream all the time like my female hallmates. Besides, it was a really good place. He was sitting on my left, while there was no one on my right at all; only the window with that ugly bars.

Out the corner of my eye I saw his hands on his lap. His hands were elegant and large compared to my own hands; his fingers were slender and his finger joints were distinct.

I found that beautiful.

I tried to stop secretly observing him and looked at the tiny TV-set. I was wondering which movie they had chosen for us.

A very familiar melody began to play. I shuddered. Well, of course, it was quite expected… New Year’s Eve, the 31st of December… I knew that movie. For me it was a wonderful love story right from the childhood. It was an old Soviet movie, a romantic comedy called “The Irony of Fate”.

It was hard to ignore the throbbing in my head. It was too much… Watching it here… Having no hope at all, having no one to come and save me from here, desperately trying to keep myself sane all the time; answering the same idiotic questions over and over, wondering which answer would be “normal” enough; being forced to strip naked in front of the stupid medical staff, in order to show them that I actually didn’t have anything sharp hidden under my clothes to cut myself once again… As if I wasn’t a human being, but an object to be humiliated… Ohhh… And after all of that I should watch one of my favourite movies in this hell. It felt like I was betraying myself, like I was throwing mud at everything I used to love.

I almost groaned and closed my eyes. I put my elbows on my knees and hid my face into my arms, hoping I would just disappear.

Suddenly I heard a gentle and faint whisper to my left: “Are you okay?..”

I raised my head a little and turned it left. I saw the beautiful stranger looking at me with concern. Or at least it seemed so.

His eyes met mine again and for a moment I felt my breath hitch in my throat. For a moment I was lost in the depths of his eyes.

“Nah… I mean… Yeah… it’s just… it’s just hard for me to watch this particular… movie”, - I answered in a whisper, breaking our eye contact reluctantly and stared down at my knees, feeling shy.

“You… you’ve watched it before?”, - he asked in a gentle whisper.

“Worse”, - I replied, still staring down, feeling kind of afraid and nervous to look back at him, - “That’s one of my favorite… movies”, - I whispered and looked up at him, trying to master my fears. He half smiled in a very sad and meaningful way.

“I understand”, - he replied with a faint sigh, - “You don’t want to… destroy your beautiful memories of that... Being here destroys everything”.

He continued looking at me. I stared back at him, amazed.

“You put my thoughts into words so… perfectly”, - I said, - “That’s exactly what I think”.

The opening melody was over.

He leaned a little closer to me. I swallowed.

“Can we just… Can we try to imagine that we’re not here right now, that we’re… we are…”, - his whisper was soft and calm, like a gentle gust of a sea breeze into my hair.

“At the cinema?”, - I whispered back doubtfully. It seemed to me that I was beginning to understand what he was about to say.

“Yeah”, - he smiled, his eyes were glistening in the dim light coming from the TV-set, - “Let’s imagine that we’re at the cinema. Somewhere in the centre of the city… And we’re watching it there… Feeling free and… safe…”, - he smiled at me, definitely trying to imagine himself what he was talking about.

I couldn’t help but smiled warmly at him. He seemed to be so kind and extraordinary. It was so overwhelming to talk to someone kind in here. To talk to someone who was listening to me at all.

“Nice idea”, - I whispered softly, - “However that screen is too small to imagine that we are actually at the cinema”.

He chuckled shakily, turning slightly to the left to see the screen and then back to me. “I agree with you. The screen is the only thing in here that doesn’t match with our dream… But I guess… we may try to ignore that, huh?”, - he smiled at me; his smile was so tender, personal and playful; it was a smile from his soul. I smiled back at him and nodded quickly, feeling a thrill running down my spine.

I turned to the screen slowly and saw him did the same. He was still smiling. I was feeling both overwhelmed and calm at the same time. I was feeling strangely drawn to this gentle stranger.

The movie was already going on. I was feeling much better now. I really tried to imagine that I was sitting at the cinema next to this kind man, and that everything was absolutely fine. I was trying to imagine that I was watching this movie for the very first time with him. I was feeling so warm inside because of our little conversation.

We were watching the movie in silence. The other patients around us were rather still, only one woman was getting really anxious about being away from her child. When she got too noisy she was taken away from the hall by the two medical workers.

Sometimes I sneaked glances at him to see his reaction to my favorite scenes. I guessed most of all he liked the songs. He seemed to truly enjoy them because of his sparkling eyes and radiant yet shy smile. I knew all the songs by heart and couldn’t help but imagined how I was singing them to him. Why? I didn’t know. Maybe I wanted to make him smile even more.

Several times I heard people’s loud screams from the distance. I guessed those screams were coming from the farthest hallway. It was the hallway located after entering the building. The screams were rather distant yet seemed to get closer and closer before disappearing again. Obviously there were the new patients there, crying and yelling desperately, not realizing yet why they were brought here. I was listening to them with a heavy and aching heart; I tried to pretend that I didn’t hear them as I usually did, although it was impossible to ignore those animalistic sounds. But that wasn’t the worst part. Worst of all were the shouts in response; the medical workers tried to shout the newcomers down, insulting and threatening them. Their shouts were almost completely drowning out the sounds of the TV. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed how the hands of the beautiful man sitting next to me were shaking at those moments.

I heard how the men in white coats, that were sitting in the dining hall with us, guarding us, laughed loudly: “As always they all go fucking crazy at the end of the year, don’t they?”

Almost at the end of the movie the main characters seemed to lose each other by denying their true love feelings. At that moment a very sad song started playing. In the lyrics of that song a man was trying to find his lost love. All his efforts were wasted. This song was called “I Asked the Ash Tree”. It was kind of a metaphorical song; very touching and even heartbreaking. This song always managed to touch the very inner parts of my soul, no matter how many times I’d listened to it. And, of course, it did touch my soul now. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

I turned left just a little to look at my new acquaintance. I saw his eyes locked to the screen with a sorrowful look on his handsome features. His eyes were strangely sparkling and he seemed to be so far away from here. My heart dropped. He was almost crying.

I felt my body shake a little. Did he find this song touching too? His soul seemed to me too gentle to be in here, to be locked in this soulless little world with the bars on the windows.

I felt an unbearable urge to reassure him somehow. I leaned to him and whispered: “Don’t worry; they will be together at the end of the movie”.

He turned to me and laughed nervously but quietly, wiping away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “You’ve just spoiled me the ending, have you?”, - he whispered in a cracked voice with a hint of playfulness.

I grinned at him softly: “I’m sorry; but I guess that was rather obvious; they’re meant to be together”, - I whispered, feeling shy and kind of nervous.

He stared back at me with a calm thoughtful look. “Yeah… They really are…”, - he smiled, his eyes were still sparkling; I suddenly thought that I wouldn’t forget that beautiful moment.

When the movie ended, I saw several medical workers leaving their posts and waiting for the patients near the door, shouting rudely: “Everybody out, now! Hurry up!”

I got up from the chair and saw the man next to me did the same. I felt a piercing ache in my heart. Suddenly a rush of panic and fear was overwhelming me.

All the patients were moving slowly towards the door. It was still rather dark in here, and the only light was coming from the hallway.

I felt so helpless. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want to leave him; what if I would never see him again?

I swallowed hard and looked at him. “Time to say goodbye?”, - I asked, feeling awkward.

I noticed that he wasn’t much taller than me; he looked fragile and even thinner than before now that he was standing.

He looked at me, leaning over to me, his eyes were deep and tender. “Could I possibly ask you to… to stay? I mean… in here? Just to talk?..”, - he stuttered a little bit while trying to find the words.

“What do you mean? They will notice… I mean… our absence”, - I sad quietly, ignoring the dense flow of the other patients around us.

He half smiled. “I guess they won’t… They need to celebrate, you know… Too busy entertaining themselves”, - he said, looking at me with a dark expression on his face.

I understood what he meant. The staff wouldn’t lose the opportunity to celebrate New Year. Moreover there weren’t any medical chiefs at that time. I’d already heard the dish clattering and the laughter coming from the distance.

I felt the adrenaline rushing through my whole body. Obviously I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to talk to him. I needed to get to know him. But at the same time I was scared to death that they would find us and would try to discipline somehow.

And, of course, I was thrilled to stay alone with him. It felt too good to be true.

“I’ll stay with you”, - I whispered, looking at him timidly, feeling my heart racing.

He smiled, seemingly not believing that I actually agreed.

“Come here with me”, - he said quietly, taking me by the sleeve in a very gentle way. He led me over to the last row of the chairs, bypassing the little crowd.

It was still dark in there. No one turned on the light in the hall. We knelt down behind the seats, remaining hidden under the darkness.

I was watching the crowd of the patients passing through the narrow door to the hallway. I was praying so that nobody would notice us. I still wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing staying here with that kind man. Who knows, what was going on in his mind? He was a complete stranger to me after all; but I wasn’t afraid of him at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was feeling oddly calm except for that strange excitement and tension. I just couldn’t resist the temptation to get to know him.

Finally everyone left and the door slammed shut. I was holding my breath, listening to the turn of the key in the door. Then I heard the sound of the footsteps disappearing in the hallway.

It seemed that we both were still waiting for something in a complete silence. After a few minutes my lovely stranger laughed quietly. I turned to him, smiling in relief.

We got to our feet almost simultaneously. I was now standing right in front of him. His eyes were piercing mine. The only light was coming through the window behind my back. There were some lanterns shining in the inner yard of the building. Their soft glow illuminated through the bars of the window making the delicate features of his face visible. I found myself admiring him once again. Even more now. His beauty was exceptional without a doubt. He had a fragile, almost ethereal beauty. He looked like a real piece of art; something amazing, something historical, something you need to cherish with all your heart.

He smiled warmly at me, his eyes were sparkling. “Let’s have a sit over there”, - he said softly, looking behind me. I turned around to the window with a wide sill. I took a couple of steps forward; then I climbed onto the sill and sat on it dangling my legs. He sat down opposite me and looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that I was actually here. His deep eyes were focusing on mine as though he was desperately trying to dig into my soul. He was making me feel nervous but… in a very good way.

We were sitting silent for a few minutes or so. The silence felt strangely comfortable and… safe. It was the very first time I heard silence in here.

A funny thought just came into my mind. “Do you know what people usually say?.. About celebrating New Year?”, - I smiled, looking directly into his eyes.

“What is it? Tell me”, - he said with a soft smile.

“People usually say… that the way you’ll celebrate the New Year…is actually the way you’ll live it”, - I said, smiling shyly yet playfully, - “That means we’re fated to stay here… At least for a year… I mean… No way to escape… From this prison”.

He laughed gently and shook his head. “I hope that people are wrong about that… You’ll definitely get out of here… Not sure about myself though”, - he said, his eyes dulled a little, but his smile didn’t fade.

I continued looking at him with newfound confidence.

“Do you… do you wanna smoke maybe?..”, - he suddenly asked in a low and soft voice, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. His every move was smooth, graceful and calm. I was admiring his irresistible charm.

I widened my eyes in amazement after hearing what he’d just said. “Really?.. I mean… Sure, I’d love to… But… where did you get that?”, - I said, looking at him with wonder.

He grinned with a radiant smile, leaned closer to me and handed me an open pack of cigarettes. I smiled and gladly took one, placing it between my teeth.

“You know, my guards… I tell them some jokes at times and stuff… And if they find it funny enough, they kind of… reward me with that”, - he said, still smiling, yet his expression darkened a little.

I was watching him almost in awe, wondering to myself, how is it even possible to make jokes in such a hell?

He flicked his lighter, and brought the flame up to the tip of my cigarette, leaning even closer to me. I raised my left hand, instinctively covering the flame. The sleeve of my robe fell down, revealing the bandage on my wrist. I froze for a second, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot, ‘cause only pathetic stupid idiot would do something like that.

I took my left hand away, not sure if he noticed that or not. I couldn’t help but looked up at him, inhaling the smoke. He was so close, looking straight into my eyes. It felt like the most intimate and magical moment I’ve ever experienced. I could feel his breathing; it was overwhelming.

I leaned back a little, feeling extremely shy. I exhaled the smoke with a sigh of relief.

“Better?..”, - he asked quietly in low and calm voice, smiling warmly.

“So much… better…”, - I answered, taking another drag, feeling the smoke burning my throat.

He chuckled like he knew exactly what I was thinking about and lit himself a cigarette, taking a long drag on it. He let the smoke linger for a few seconds; after that he exhaled it in a long stream directed to the ceiling.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Oh my… The way he was smoking was so… cinematic. He looked so… perfect, so alluring… He was almost glowing in the low light coming from the window; he looked like an angel.

He seemed to notice my gaze and it seemed that he liked it.

“What is your name?”, - he asked suddenly. His voice was soft, musical and a little husky; I felt my heart pounding against my ribs; I was admiring him, watching the smoke leaving his lips, swirling through the air. “My name is Lana”, - I answered quietly, swallowing hard, - “And what is your name?”

“My name is Arthur”, - he said, smiling, - “You have a very beautiful name, Lana”, - he added; his smile was shy and sincere. It looked adorable.

“You have a very beautiful name too…”, - I answered, melting under his stare like a snowflake on a tongue. His wonderful name suited him so perfectly.

The thin wisps of the smoke floated in the air, making all around us looking like a fantasy.

“Lana… I’m sorry for asking, but…”, - he said in a soft yet hesitant voice, - “Your wrist… That’s the reason why you are here?..”

I froze for a few moments, didn’t know what to answer, feeling embarrassed and, yeah, feeling like a pathetic stupid idiot.

I took the last deep drag from the cigarette and crushed it out on the sill. I swallowed hard and nodded, staring at the window.

“I wasn’t… I mean… I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to do that… I don’t know why I did that… I’m just…”, - I sighed deeply, desperately trying to find the words, - “It was like the other part of me. You know, like it wasn’t me at all. Like the real me was just standing there and observing all that was happening… And she, I mean, the real me, didn’t want to stop that or didn’t know how. Whereas the other part of me had an irresistible urge to hurt someone… To hurt… Myself…”, - the words were flowing out like an endless stream, - “I was so overwhelmed by pain and… fear… so hardly overwhelmed. It was intolerable… Unbearable… I wanted to release it somehow… And also… I wanted to make myself… To make myself feeling even worse. It was like I was wondering… How would I feel after reaching the bottom of this… abyss… But know what, Arthur…”, - I sighed, saying his name felt like the very last step of giving all my trust to him, - “Now I know for sure… This abyss has no bottom… And I’m keeping falling”, - I stared down, feeling my body tremble.

I heard how he sighed heavily, crushing his cig. “You’re not alone with that, Lana… Yow know, I… I do understand you. I feel you”, - he said, his voice was gentle and a little hoarse, - “I feel you…”, - he said again and moved closer to me. He laid his hand on my right forearm softly, like I was made of crystal.

I was feeling like my chest would explode from my heartbeat.

I looked up at him, feeling both deeply embarrassed and suddenly relieved. He was looking at me with a deep understanding, his soulful eyes were filled with compassion and gentleness. “Just so you know… you are not falling alone… And as long as you’re not alone, falling isn’t that scary…”, - he said.

I swallowed, breathing unevenly. His hand was still on my forearm and I could feel his warmth.

“I guess I’m here for…for kinda same reasons”, - he added, continuing looking into my eyes, - “Although… it doesn’t seem so at the first glance…”

“What… what did you did?”, - I asked, my voice was raspy and it was hard for me to speak.

He hesitated for a moment.

“I killed six people”, - he said.

His tone was dark and serious; it sounded like a joke to me, although I could tell from his expression it wasn’t. His eyes became empty, dull and lifeless in just a moment. The look in his eyes was exactly the same as when I saw him for the first time. I could see a pain in his eyes. He looked like a person who had lost all the hope in life.

I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. How could anyone so fragile-looking and gentle-hearted be a killer?..

“But… how?.. I mean… why?..” - I asked, looking at him, feeling my heart heavy for him.

“You know, Lana… I was feeling like I was drowning in my pain... I got used to that, but then… at some point… it was… too much to bear. I didn’t know how to make it stop… At least for a moment…” - he looked away, his voice was hoarse and shaking. “And then something just broke inside of me… Something I couldn’t repair. You told me that you were feeling like there was some other part of you, hurting you… I was feeling exactly the same way… I was feeling like…like I was torn in two… One half of me was petrified and couldn’t move or think of anything, while the other half was dizzy with excitement… With a strange kind of excitement I’ve never felt before… I was… so thrilled, so unstoppable, so… uncontrollable, so unfamiliar to my usual self. And you know what… I was also feeling… free. Finally free from my pain… And even… relieved… But at the same time I felt that feeling that way was wrong… That in fact my pain didn’t fade away at all… But at least it was no longer locked inside of me. It broke free… Suddenly all the pain and suffering were no longer only mine…”

Arthur was silent for a while, staring gloomily out the window. Then he said: “I wish I didn’t do that… but I did”.

I was trembling as if with a chill. Everything he’d just said felt like it was happening to me. I could feel his pain. I could feel how unbearable it was. I wish I could find the right words to reassure him, but it seemed there were no words in the whole world in any languages that would help to heal his deepest wounds.

I carefully jumped off the sill. Then I turned my right hand palm up and pulled his arm gently. He slowly moved his legs off the sill and stood in front of me.

Now he was looking at me. His sorrowful eyes penetrated my whole being. And it hurt me deeply to look into his eyes.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Never in my whole life had I met someone like him. I was feeling like I’d met my own soul in him.

I couldn’t resist but hugged him. I didn’t know from where I got the confidence to do that. I wrapped my arms around his neck and gently nuzzled the crook of it, hiding my face and breathing in his scent. He smelled like smoke; it was on his clothes and I inhaled his scent deeply, feeling light-headed and dizzy.

He froze and I could feel his body stiffening with tension. For a moment I was afraid that he would push me away; but then he gave me a tentative hug back, wrapping his arms around my waist very carefully, as if he was scared of hurting me.

“You… Why are you hugging me, Lana?..”, - he whispered into my hair.

“Because… I feel you. I feel you too, Arthur”, - I whispered back, - “I feel you more than you can imagine…”

I raised my hands a bit and stroked his soft and silky curls.

Arthur pulled me closer towards him, holding me tighter, sighing deeply and shakily. I felt his warmth; it was so incredibly comforting. I instantly felt safe and relaxed; I felt like I was weightless; like I was normal.

“I have a request for you, Lana”, - he whispered softly; I could feel his hands moving slowly across my back.

“What is it?”, - I asked in a gentle whisper, still stroking his hair.

Arthur paused for a moment before saying: “Please be… real”, - he whispered, his voice quaking as if he lost control of his emotions, - “I want you to be real. I need you to be real”.

I smiled, feeling a lump in my throat.

“Make a wish, then, Arthur… Make a wish for me to be real. And I’ll make a wish for you to be real too”, - I whispered desperately and almost inaudibly, - “People say all the wishes come true on New Year’s Eve”.

He pulled back a little and cupped my face with his hands with exquisite gentleness, looking down into my eyes with tenderness.

“I really hope they are right about that”, - Arthur said quietly with a delicate laugh, and then his soft lips pressed very gently against mine.

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