#and like. most of the time i don’t care what my neighbours do. that extention is ugly as balls

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

how is it that our most-unbearable neighbours have been having construction work going on at their house for over a week , i’m talking cranes lifting materials into their garden kinda construction work, but none of us can see any changes to their house? are they purely doing all this to be annoyingly noisy?

[welldonebeca]

i could have chosen (and yes, I would) - 1

Summary: To form an alliance with another Kingdom, your father arranges a marriage between you and James, the duke of Barnes and best friend of King Steve I of a neighbouring kingdom, and you struggle to make a relationship out of your arranged union. WC: 2k words Warnings: Royal AU. Arranged marriage. Tension. Angst.

Masterlist

You stood straight as your lady in waiting pinned your hair in place, setting it back tightly before walking, back, and you turned over your shoulder to watch her move, picking something up and walking to you.

“What is that?” you asked, realising what she had in her hands.

A gable hood. One you knew too well, that you had worn against your own wishes many times before.

Lady Anne stopped, looking confused, and eyed the hood in her hands.

“It’s your hood, my lady,” she looked back at you.

It was a hood. Not your hood, no.

“That’s not my hood,” you corrected her. “I had two hoods made, one for today and one for my wedding. This isn’t either of them.”

Anne clenched her jaw, breathing in and out and moving her hands, pinching her nose, rubbing her hand over her face and looking for words as she squeezed the squared hood in her hands.

“My lady, this was sent by your stepmother,” she told you. “I don’t… it’s not my position!”

Yes, your stepmother, of course.

“I’m not wearing that,” you told her, shaking your head. “My father told me I could choose what I would wear tonight, this is not what I chose!”

Nothing was ever like you chose.

Not your food, your clothes, the people you were surrounded by, or the way you were always locked inside these walls every day - the whole day - without a friend or anything to do with yourself but waste away.

Ever since your mother died, things were just dreadful.

Your stepmother was your father’s second wife, a beautiful woman who had given him all the sons he could possibly have ever wanted, while your mother died giving birth to a single boy who had barely breathed before God took him too.

And you couldn’t even say goodbye to her.

Your sisters were gone, too - one was married off to a Duke in Bavaria, another to the Prince of Orange, and another in France. None would write to you often. Married life was probably much better than what you were all subjected to at home.

Your father’s dear wife just wanted to get rid of you, just as well, and send you as far away as possible. She had her five sons, a baby in her belly, and no patience for a girl who reminded her of a dead woman she had come to replace.

It didn’t quite help that your father didn’t have much time to worry about your household, too busy caring for the King - your uncle - and his business.

“Your father isn’t here, my lady. His Majesty summoned him,” she reminded you, sounding like she lamented it as much as you did. “And your husband-to-be is already waiting for us.”

Yes, your husband-to-be.

For years, your stepmother had been looking into a marriage alliance for you. To your most dreadful luck, all good Kings and princes were married or too young for you. The closest you’d been to actually marry someone was with King Steven, of a minor country, but it didn’t go through, and he just married the daughter of a duke who’d been his ward as a child.

And yet, that didn’t stop him from remembering you after a few years.

Your husband-to-be was a new duke, a strong ally of his who had been given the title for his service to the King, after almost dying to save his life. The same situation had left him crippled for life, though you didn’t quite knot the extent of it.

And you were his other prize, of course. A minor princess who was too far down the line to inherit anything but a title, but had enough of a name to give him one.

“I’ll be wearing my French hood to my wedding,” you told her. “And I don’t care what my stepmother says about it.”

Lady Anne just walked to you, and waited with the gable hood in her hands.

It was stupid. A stupid hood, one stupid little thing that you wanted to have, and yet you couldn’t.

“He is a good-looking man,” she whispered. “Quiet. None of his servants had anything to say about him to us.”

You swallowed down, nodding, and she moved forward to cover your head.

“Nothing good?” you asked her, afraid.

“And nothing bad,” she pined it, fixing your veil just as well.

What was worse? To be unacknowledged and forgotten, or step into the dark? You didn’t quite know. And yet, you were living both.

A little knock on your door made Anne stiff, and she turned to you.

“Come, my lady,” she offered you a hand. “They are waiting for us.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath, and followed her.

Anything would be better than this life.

You pushed the anger away from your face quickly, and let Lady Anne guide you away

She had very little power in your life, but was your only constant company. Some ladies would come and go from your household, usually attending to your stepmother, but Anne was your mother’s lady-in-waiting and had taken the role of caring for you and your sister when she passed. As the youngest, you were the one who needed her the most, and maybe the reason she had yet to retire.

As your wedding was arranged, you had hoped she could come with you, but she wanted to retire, and you could never ask her to give up on that.

You didn’t see your intended when you came down, nor your father or your stepmother, but your little brothers were right there, and they were the only reason you even smiled. They looked elated to see you, and Peter was the first to rush to your side when you stopped by him, squeezing your leg over your dress.

He was a quiet boy, just a little over five and very affectionate, and often slipped away to see you during his lesson breaks.

“Your husband is so big,” he exclaimed in a loud whisper.

You chuckled.

“Everyone is big when you are this little, Peter,” you petted his hair.

He giggled, and you bent, pressing a little kiss to his forehead.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you asked them.

This wasn’t a dinner for children, and only the oldest of the boys - Ferdinand, who had just turned 11 - would be present.

“Yes,” William, who was seven, nodded. “They let us have pudding.”

You chuckled. Good, they deserved pudding. They were all very good boys.

“Does your mother know you are all out of bed?” you asked, reaching for Joseph, the oldest of the little trio. “I don’t think you’re even supposed to be here.”

“I do,” you heard, and stood quickly, raising your eyes as your stepmother walked into the room. “They wanted to see you when I told them you would look very pretty tonight.”

You nodded stiffly.

“Thank you, your grace,” you whispered.

Your stepmother swallowed down. She wasn’t that much older than you, not enough to be your mother. You were nine when she came to marry your father, just turned 20, a bit over twelve years ago. For two years, your father had remained single, until your uncle reminded him of his duty as a prince - he hadn’t had any sons yet, and your father had to make sure he had a few of his own in case the worse happened.

Ferdinand came into the world around the same week of their first anniversary, and Joseph came two years after, then another two years later was William’s turn, and then two years later, Peter came, and Edward had been born just shy of two years ago, and was probably asleep right now.

“Now go, you three,” she told them. “Give your sister a hug and get to bed.”

Joseph, William and Peter squeezed you tight in a circle, and you knelt to kiss their cheeks, caressing their chubby faces as your heart ached. After you left for your husband’s kingdom, you’d hardly be able to ever see them again, and would probably never meet your new baby singling.

Hopefully, that would be a boy too. It’d be good for the kingdom.

“Can you read us to bed tonight?” Peter asked.

You smiled sadly at him.

“I can’t,” you caressed his hair. “It’ll be too late when I’m done with dinner.”

“And tomorrow?” Joseph asked. “Can you read us tomorrow?”

You hesitated. Tomorrow, in the morning, you would be getting married. It would very unlikely that you did even find a moment to do so.

“I’ll be spending tomorrow with my husband,” you explained to him.

They all looked very sad at your explanation, and Peter perked up.

“What if he lets you read us a story?” he asked. “Can you?”

You smiled a little sadly.

As if your husband would let you.

“Yes,” you decided to answer, to appease them. “If he does, then I will.”

They all nodded together and kissed your cheek, one by one, and you watched them depart, standing and turning when your stepmother cleared her throat.

“Shall we?” she asked.

You nodded, clasping your hands in one another.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She walked in front of you, and you just followed her down to the dining room, waiting quietly for the Duke.

When he walked inside, you realised Peter was actually right. Your husband-to-be was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered with a hardened face. His skin was a little tanned from the sun, and contrasted greatly with his dark brown hair, falling in messy waves on his face.

“Your serene highness,” your stepmother curtsied to him, and you did the same.

“Your Royal Highness,” he bowed to her and then to you. “Your royal highness.”

Your gazes crossed, and you sucked in a deep breath. His eyes were light blue, piercing and just… gorgeous. Like a clear morning after a long rainy season.

“We are honoured that you accepted this dinner invitation,” she spoke to him. “We know you are a busy man and can’t afford to waste your time.”

He simply nodded, not saying anything, and she cleared her throat.

“As the wedding is tomorrow morning, we don’t intend for this to take too long, of course. Just a family moment.”

The Duke nodded again, stiffly, and you let your eyes run over his body. People around you had speculated greatly about what was wrong with him, but you couldn’t see anything. He was walking, standing straight, and looked a little bit gloomy, but in what looked like perfect health. There was no scarring on his face, either, and he was… beautiful.

The four of you finally sat down, with your little brother taking your father’s place as you four sat around a small table, and your husband continued with his silence, just eating, though your eyes were quick to pick up on a little detail. He wouldn’t move his left arm, not even his hand.

Maybe that was what the war had done to him - it had hurt his arm. You tried to find some clue on your theory, but raised your gaze when you realised you might have been staring, and flushed when his eyes met yours, deeply confused, looking back at your plate before he could figure out what you were looking at.

There was no attempt of conversation as you ate - not from your family nor your future husband - and he simply stood once everything was over, discreetly bowing to your stepmother and then to you.

"Your royal highness."

And then he left.

Your shoulders slumped the moment he heard his horses leaving, but stood tense the moment your stepmother turned to you.

"Enthusiastic, isn't he?" she looked at you, and you could see the worry on her face.

You swallowed down. What was that supposed to be mean?

"Go to sleep, Y/N," she decided. "You'll have a full day tomorrow."

You just nodded.

"Good night, ma'am."

"Good night."

. . .

"i could have chosen you (and yes, i would)" was posted on my Patreon in October 2022 and is fully posted on my page. To read it before anyone else, consider subscribing! It's just $2 a month and it helps me a lot during these hard times.

. . .

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i could have chosen you: open

[survey--s]

428.

Are you going to be busy tomorrow? Nope, tomorrow’s my last day off before work re-opens on Tuesday, so I plan to have a lie-in and then I’ll be doing as little as possible, hah.

What was the last topic you read about on Wikipedia? I was trying to find the voice actors from a film we were watching yesterday.

Have you ever donated money to Wikipedia? No.

Is your country part of the Commonwealth? It is indeed.

Around what time of the year do you start your Christmas shopping? Mid-December.

Do you have blinds or curtains on your windows? Curtains, as the cats just destroyed the blinds we had up.

What are the most common birds you'd see around your home? Pigeons, blackbirds, seagulls.

Did you sleep well last night? I got about eight hours sleep which is pretty decent for me. It would have been more but yesterday was NYE and the fireworks kept me up until late.

Did you live within walking distance of school when you were a kid? Nope, school was about a 20-25 minute drive away.

What board games did you play when you were growing up? Chess, Scrabble, Draughts, Ludo, Snakes & Ladders.

Do you know any sign language? Nope.

When was the last time you bought new clothes? What did you get? I got new boots for work yesterday, but otherwise the last time I got new clothes was when I replaced my leggings a couple of months ago. What, other than books, do you have on your bookshelves? Photo frames, some storage baskets. Do you ever watch streamers on Twitch? No. I just don’t get the appeal of stuff like that. How close are your nearest neighbours? It’s just the house right next to ours. Healthy distance and we don’t have to worry about them overhearing our convos or being creeps, but it’s right next to ours nonetheless.

Has your house ever been broken into? How did you find out? Not this house, but my parents house was broken into while they slept - my dad came downstairs the next morning to find the car had been nicked off the drive and a load of stuff had been moved around.

What do you usually eat for breakfast? Coffee, fruit juice and toast.

What's the first thing your hand touches if you reach to the left? The blanket I’m sitting under. The dog is curled up next to me as well.

If you could teleport to any country right now for a holiday, what country would it be? Iceland.

Are you overwhelmed right now? Nope, not at all. I’ve been off work for two weeks and it’s been so good for me. I feel so chilled and happy.

Did you share a bedroom with someone when you were growing up? No, I was only child and always had two rooms to myself.

Have you ever had anything dry cleaned? Yeah, my old school blazer was dry-clean only.

How many group chats are you in? Do you participate in them much? Just one with Archie’s breeder and all his siblings - and no, not really, maybe a few times a year.

What's the best concert you ever went to? Plain White T’s or Lily Allen.

Do you like to watch subtitled movies? Not really.

Are you still in touch with any of your exes? We’re Facebook friends, but that’s the extent of it.

How old were you when the first American Pie movie came out? I have no idea, maybe about ten? I’ve still never see any of them lol.

Do you know how to change the oil in a car? What about a flat tyre? I know how to do both, but I can’t physically change a tyre with my back problems. What do you do for work? I run my own dog walking and pet care business.

[samstrugglingwithlife]

S/O Flinching And Raising Their Arms In Self Defence Due To Past Trauma

Genre: Angst with a good ending, hurt & comfort

Warning: Trauma, anxiety and fear. Heavy topic. Freaking Long ass.

Character(s): Tsukishima, Kuroo, Oikawa

A/N: I should’ve written this one sooner but my own circumstances got to me. I hope this gives you some form of relief and anyone who has these traumas or fears, it is best to seek help either professionally or from someone you trust the most. I am here and my inbox and private messages are always open if anyone ever needs to talk.

TSUKISHIMA

I feel like being as observant as he is, Tsukishima will notice how you react to your parents the few times he has been over to your house. He'd see how you flinch, yelp when they raise their voices, he even noticed your arms twitching as if they are ready to come up and hide your face. He saw everything but never said anything.

Sometimes he'd forget that things are rough at home because whenever you are with your boyfriend, you're always happy and cheerful; You forget all the things bothering you, even when he doesn't exactly put any effort, he just stays next to you.

It was a date like any other date, the two of you were hanging out at a nearby bakery after school, sharing a dessert and drinking your tea and milkshakes. You kept looking at your phone and fidgeting, your leg shaking impatiently; you weren't really paying attention to anything Tsukki was saying, lost in your own troubling thoughts.

Midway through his conversation, he noticed that you weren't paying attention and were lost in your own thoughts with a troubling expression on your face.

Tsukishima frowned as he noticed you fidgeting, "Y/n?" he called out your name. When you didn't respond, he called your name again. You didn't respond even when he called out your name several times.  

He raised his arm and brought it close to your face and snapped his fingers. You flinched and yelped, suddenly bringing your arms up to cover your face. You were quivering in fear. As soon as he saw panic in your eyes, Tsukishima reels back his arm and instantly appears by your side. "Y/n?" He asks as gently as he could, trying his best to hide the shaking of his own voice.

Luckily, there were only a few patrons other than you two in the bakery, so there wasn't a lot of eyes on you guys. 

Listen, Tsukki is also a teen, he wouldn't know how to handle the situation, but I'll be damned if he doesn't try to help you out to the best of his abilities.

He read somewhere that to help someone with anxiety attacks,  its best to remain as calm as possible; he had never felt more grateful to a small fact he had read so fleetingly. 

Tsukki rubs your back soothingly; "Hey, you know I won't hurt you, right?" he tries to keep his voice as gentle possible, making sure that you don't hear the slight panic in his voice.

He sticks by you until you calm down, he makes you sip your drink, and when you finally settle down, he sits back on his spot, making sure to keep his hands out of view.

"I'm sorry..." you apologise, not looking him in the eye. Tsukishima sighs, "It's okay Y/n. This isn't your fault, but you need to tell me what happened," he asks you.

Reluctantly, you tell him how your parents use violence as a form of discipline and punishment; you explain to him that they do not listen to you at all and say a lot of harsh words without a second thought.

To say he was mad was an understatement, Tsukishima was seething, but for your sake, he suppressed the anger from showing on his face. He listened and listened, and with each terrible thing you told him, his heart grew heavier.

When you had nothing more to say, as gently as he could, without a word, he reaches out and holds your hand across the table, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

"Honestly," he begins. "I don't know what to say... What's supposed to be an appropriate reaction to all of this".

"I'm angry, I am furious, I hate what I'm feeling..." he tells you. "Are you angry at me?" you ask. He looks at you as if you've offended him, "No, I'm not mad at you at all. None of this is your fault. I'm mad at your family. I hate them".

Tsukishima squeezes your hand affectionately and with sympathy as you blink away your tears. "What's been bothering your today?" he asks gently, nodding towards your phone. "My mom's mad at me for some reason..." you tell him.

"Do you want to stay at my place tonight?" he asks, you shake your head, "My mom will lose it and she's already super mad right now". Tsukishima thinks for a bit before saying, "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" 

He sees you perk up and smiles, "I'll stay at your place tonight, cool?" you nod excitedly, "Thank you!"

He orders you another dessert before walking home with you.

KUROO

Kuroo had no idea of the past you tried to forget and hide from everyone. The two of you met as interns at the same workplace, and because you guys clicked with each other so well, it wasn't long until you two became lovers.

If young Kuroo was super intuitive and observant, then imagine how perceptive he would be when he's all grown up and experienced. 

You've never told him about your abusive parents, but he had some idea that there were some traumas in your past that you were unwilling to discuss. He figured that you hated being yelled at and didn't deal well with intimidating people. He's seen you with superiors, you get nervous and antsy when you're doing a task because you're scared to make a mistake, you also stumble over your words in front of the boss, and sometimes just avoid overall confrontation.

He's never said anything. He figured that if you're not willing to share this with him, then you must have a reason. He does, however, always speaks to you in a gentle tone, he never loses his patience with you and tries to never show you the angry side of him, if it isn't directed at you.

But he only human, after all, and sometimes somethings can get the best of anyone. One of the employees, who worked as your's and his junior, had made a major mistake in a very important document; the deadline was right around the corner, and there was very little time to fix the problem. 

It was Friday evening, and you two had just arrived home after work when Kuroo received the e-mail from the said employee. As he read the mail over and over, his temper began to rise.

"Babe, are you okay?" you ask and place your hand on his back, soothingly, as he rakes his hand through his hair. "Fucking HELL!" he suddenly yelled and threw his phone on the couch. With a scared scream, you reeled back and raised your arms to cover your ears with your hands. 

He snaps out of his anger as soon as he sees your reaction; within seconds, he is by your side. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you're chanting with your eyes screwed shut, ears covered and body hunched over. 

Kuroo wraps his arms around you and brings your face against his chest, "Baby, I am sorry! I shouldn't have raised my voice," he says. You tremble in his hold, crying silently, "I'm sorry!"

Kuroo's heart wrenches in his chest, "Why are you apologising? I should be the one! I am so sorry Y/n, I shouldn't have yelled like that," he apologises. "Even though I knew you don't like loud sounds, I still-" he sighs, frustrated with himself, "I'm sorry..."

You pull away from his chest and look up at him, your eyes still wet and fresh tears threatening to spill, "I-I know you didn't yell at me. I shouldn't have reacted like that..." you say with a shaky voice. "I know you would never hurt me, I'm sorry".

That night, the two of you laid in bed and talked about everything and nothing at all. When you tried to tell him of the past, he stopped you, "Maybe next time..." he said. "I don't want you to revisit those memories right now".

As the two of you snuggle with each other, and you slowly drift off to sleep you can bearly hear the words that Kuroo says to you, "I'll always keep you safe, Y/n. I promise".

You slept without nightmares that night.

Also, extra, but the employee that messed up got an earful in the men's room on Monday, one place where Kuroo knew you wouldn't hear him lose his cool. Angry Kuroo may be hot to the general population (at least, those who found him attractive anyway) but ask that rookie, he had never wanted to die more than in that moment he was getting an earful.

OIKAWA

You had been dating Oikawa since you guys were young, since highschool. He had helped you get through all the tough times and knew what you feared and your trauma. 

He had always been careful not to raise his voice or speak with malice in front of you; he even made sure that Iwaizumi didn't resort to violence in front of you, and that Kyoutani stayed far far far away from you.

Surprisingly, there was no incident or episode outside of your home; but that also meant that he had never seen the extent your trauma and how it affects you.

When you guys were teens, he made you a promise that he will take you away from your toxic home and give you a life without worry and fear. He had kept his vow, and as soon as you two graduated, he helped you get admission in a university in Argentina, and you two moved out of Japan, never to look back on your terrible home and family.

Sometimes, when a long time passes, people tend to forget the promises of the past; the same had happened with Oikawa. Obviously, this didn't mean that he loved you any less, it was just that somehow as life went on that old promise from his young days buried itself in the back of his mind.

Oikawa was getting ready to leave for practice; you were following him around, reminding him of some things he needed to bring on his way home.

"Tooru, we're out of milk". Oikawa smiles, "Okay, babe, got it". "We don't have butter- you dropped your sock- and grapes". Oikawa sighed, slightly irritated, "Okay, Y/n," he mumbled. "Tooru, you're forgetting your sunscreen," "Yep, Thanks". "Put the dirty clothes in the laundry," "Done". "The neighbours wanted to have dinner, I'm gonna tell them we're going, okay?" "Cool, cool".

"You got some mail from the bank, you have to check it". "Will do it when I come back". "Also-" Oikawa growled, "Also what?!" he said annoyed. He didn't notice you flinch, "You've been nagging me about dumb shit all morning!" He turns his glare towards you, "I Just need ONE FUCKING MORNING TO MYSLEF!" as soon as he raises his voice, you stumble backwards and cover your face with your arms. 

The moment he sees you recoil, he is reminded of the promise he made way back. Oikawa is filled with guilt and instantly reaches for you, he feels so much pain when you flinch and move away as he tries to touch you.

Very slowly, he reaches for you again, placing his hand on your arm covering your face. He sighs in relief when you allow him to lower your arm, but he is soon feeling even more guilty when he sees hot tears streaming down your eyes."Y/n, baby I am so sorry," he almost whispers, afraid that you'll reel back if he dares make a sound any louder than a whisper.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I-I am so so so sorry Y/n, baby," he apologises and pulls you into a hug and allows you to cry into his chest.

He doesn't care if your tears are soaking through his jersey or he is getting deadly late for practice; his first priority is you. "I'm sorry!" you sob, old habit resurfacing after so long.

Oikawa gently moves you back and softly cups you cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, "Baby, please don't say sorry. I should be sorry! You were only doing your job".

You nod, wiping your tears and gently pushing his chest, "You're getting late," you tell him, your voice sounding wet, a sob threatening to break out at any moment. Oikawa pulls you back into the hug, "Screw that for now," he kisses the top of your head, "I can't leave you like this".

It doesn't take you long to calm down (Oikawa tried to make you laugh, "Y/n-chan! Punch me! You can kick the living shit outta me, I won't say anything, I promise! I deserve it anyway!"). Oikawa holds you close, rubbing your arms with his hands, "And?" he asks. "And?" you raise your brow, "What do you mean 'and'?"

Oikawa smiles awkwardly, guiltily, "You were going to say something before I decided to act like a dickhead". "Oh that!" "Yeah," he confirms.

"I was going to say, 'and I love you, take care'". Oikawa's face contorts with pain, guilt filling through his veins, he pulls you into a tight hug, "I love you too... Y/n- shit! I am so sorry!" You smile into the hug, "I forgive you".

"Fuck practice! let's do it!" "Get out". "Y/n-chan so mean!" 

[katatty]

Recap: Pleasantview Round 5 (Summer)

The romance of Spring certainly went to a few heads in Pleasantview - the suburb is in the midst of quite the baby boom. But now Summer is here, and school is out! Parents are scrambling to sort out childcare, teenagers are reveling in their freedom, and with the sun shining, the mood in the neighbourhood is pretty great.

But are the families as happy as they seem? Or are some on the brink of collapse? What secrets lurk in their hearts?

The round began with newcomers Tiffany Sampson and Kevin Beare getting settled in. They adopted a puppy, got new jobs, and got to know the neighbours.

Then as Tiffany finished her first day of work in the Education career, she learned she was already pregnant!

They had a quick, slightly rushed wedding before the baby arrived.

Baby Harvey was born, but it already looks like she might be expecting again.

The round ended on a happy note, with the couple already nicely established as a family in town with a few friends!

The Dreamer family started out just as well, but things quickly started to deteriorate.

Due to a combination of bad mental health, recurring nightmares and possible haunting, Brandi Broke isn’t in a good place. Her relationship with Darren suffers for it, too.

Meanwhile Cassandra’s marriage with Don is falling apart, and Darren can’t help being sympathetic. Perhaps a little too much so.

Mia Broke, obsessed with the paranormal, gets herself abducted by aliens, much to her mom’s dismay.

She’s also eager to discuss her theories about the spooky sounds in their yard, but Brandi shuts it down.

Mia goes on a date with Benedick Monty, but it’s kind of a mixed bag.

Back home, Mia and Darren eventually talk about the possible hauntings at home. He admits to her seeing Darleen’s ghost, from time to time.

Brandi also opens up to Mia about her father, Skip.

And Mia is vindicated to finally some ghosts herself!

I played the Lotharios next since I was interested in what was going on with Cassandra.

Cassandra and Don’s relationship has had its ups and downs - neither of them has been 100% faithful, but they’re dealing with it. Maybe? Between raising the twins and focusing on their careers there hasn’t been a ton of time for marriage counselling.

Don’s been feeling a bit isolated, recently. Outside of his family and his coworkers, he doesn’t really have a lot of friends. That’s been deliberate, to an extent. The fewer people around him, the fewer temptations to stray outside of the marriage.

For the most part, it’s been working. But a chance meeting with Nina Caliente has him feeling… confused.

The kids are doing fine, the parents not so much.

She’s always in low aspiration, lately, ever since her Dad passed away. It’s been hard getting on her feet since then, and Don going on about needing “me time” doesn’t help. She needs his support right now more than ever! Why doesn’t he get that?

They don’t talk about it, but both of them are feeling very alone, and starting to lose faith in each other...

Meanwhile, the boys age up. Bernado’s a popularity sim and Cassimiro’s knowledge.

Eventually, things in the marriage finally explode and Cassandra tells Don about Darren, trying to get a rise out of him.

Don immediately retaliates by woohooing with Sharon Wirth on a grocery-run.

After a cool-off day, they agree to break things off, and Don moves out.

He moves in, temporarily, with Bella. Who is insistant that he and Cassie try and patch things up!

He’s more interested in exploring new options, though.

Bella is devestated to lose her job as a party guest.

Meanwhile Oliver Goth (Dina and Mortimer’s son) gets his first kiss with Ariel Capp! Later he goes on a date with Tommy Ottomas, too.

At one of Bella’s parties, Cassandra and Don keep things civil, but Cassandra evidently isn’t doing well.

Bella goes on a date with Gilbert Jacquet. It’s not really all that serious between them, and Bella still misses Mortimer dreadfully, but Gilbert is charming and handsome enough to take her mind of her worries.

Things with Bella and Don also seem to be getting a little heavy, and Don concludes he needs to move out before things cross a line. Bella reluctantly agrees, it’s obvious her plan to get him and Cassie back together hasn’t worked

Don moves to Strangetown!

Next up are the Ramaswami family, a nice breath of fresh air after all the drama.

Priya befriends some of the other mothers in town, becoming especially close to Kaylynn.

And baby Ravi gows into maybe the coolest toddler ever?

Sanjay survives a near death experience.

And Priya finds out she’s expecting again!

Divorced once and with the girls having just graduated college, Daniel Pleasant didn’t expect to be engaged again with a kid on the way as he approached retirement age, doing it all over again. He’s far from unhappy about it, though. Mary Sue always had an independent streak, but Kaylynn adores him. Maybe it’s a bit selfish, but it feels so good to be needed.

Kaylynn knows some people in the neighbourhood look down on her, think her naive, call her a homewrecker… that’s fine. If they worked as a cleaner for years and years maybe they’d consider packing it in and settling into an easy life, too. What’s wrong with wanting to be taken care of?

Notably (and much to my horror) during the Pleasant round, Brandi and John start up their affair again.

Kaylynn finally gives birth, to a baby boy they call Jeffery Pleasant, after Daniel’s father. Daniel’s really pleased!

Jennifer’s eager to meet her new nephew. She and Kaylynn get off to a rocky start, but eventually start to bond.

She’s closest friends with Brandi Broke, though. The two have become inseperable, with Brandi visiting all the time.

Daniel invites both of the girls over to meet their little brother, but Angela is the only twin who shows. Whether that’s because they have a better relationship, or because Lilith was just busy is anyone’s guess.

Then it turns out Kaylynn’s pregnant again already?

Kaylynn and Daniel tie the knot!

Nina and Don also reconcile at the wedding.

Kaylynn gives birth to another baby boy, Luke!

And Jeff ages upp!

Daniel ages up, too. It’s finally time for him to retire, soon...

Daniel’s definitely a bit of a dirty old man, but Kaylynn doesn’t seem entirely oblivious to that side of him, and figures as long as she keeps his needs met they should be fine. We’ll see if that holds up.

Then it was time to catch up with the Shoreharts, who moved here form Widespot for a fresh start.

A retired chef, Sandy’s enjoying her retirement a lot more than she ever enjoyed being a stay at home mom. Granted, all this free time has her a little restless, but it’s nothing a bit of time outdoors and excercise can’t fix. She hopes.

They were honestly pretty chill! Rhett’s taken to the whole marriage thing suprisingly well, for a romance sim. Turns out, as long as he’s getting lovin’ on a regular basis he doesn’t really care if it’s with one woman or several. It’s never boring with Sandy, and he intends to keep her as happy as he can for the rest of her days. That’ll show her shit-heel of an ex-husband.

Mostly they just spend a lot of time with family.

Sandy’s very generious with the backrubs, but nothing goes too far.

Mimi is definitely at least a little anxious about her parents’ marriage though, because she spends some of the round reading up on Couple’s Councelling.

Then it’s time for her to age up! She grows into a rather cute romance sim.

Then at the party the house of cards starts to crumble, as Sandy gives her ex-husband Hamilton a kiss, right in front of Mimi and Rocky.

Mimi agrees not to tell her Dad, but isn’t happy. She spends a lot of time out of the house.

With Sandy keeping her indescretion quiet, I’m not sure what they have in store in the future!

Regardless, next are the Ramirez family.

Tessa’s spent a lot of time looking afte rthe baby and she’s sick of it! So she spends some time Downtown with friends.

She later takes Bernardo on a date, although he’s not sure if he likes her as more than a friend. Bernardo likes the idea of falling in love with Tessa, who he’s always admired! But he’s a little hesitant at the same time, especially with his parents’ divorce still being so recent.

Checo has a bit of a wandering eye, but mostly he keeps himself in check.

Checo might be a bit of a flirt, but at least he’s not a hypocrite. When Lisa was dancing with Skye he didn’t even bat an eye. Or maybe he just doesn’t see an old man as much of a threat…

Ugh, God, I forgot this happened

Baby Sofia grew up super cute!

Anyway, that’s all from them!

The Oldies weren’t too eventful, mostly just focused on hobbies!

They did finally meet Mary’Sue’s new partner, which went... poorly.

But they did have a nice meeting with their grandaughter later, and a fun night out!

Then it was the Burbs! John’s recent indescretions with Brandi aside, things seemed to be going well.

At least, until he made out with Coral Oldie :/

Oblivious to thins, Jennifer was starting to trust John again.

They had dinner with Jen’s brother Dan and his new wife...

And Jennifer discovered she was pregnant again!

Lucy headed away for college...

And baby James grew up, leaving the Burb round complete and Pleasantview all done & dusted!

[possiamo-andare]

Just You (1)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.1k

summary: A new girl moves to OBX and a love triangle ensues. Your usual yearning, fluff writing :)

a/n: gosh, it has been too long. university has me swamped but since it’s the holiday break, i will try and update as much as i can. as of rn my other fic, sweeter, is on hold, while i try to write more and get back into the groove of things :) love y’all <3 

~

Many people do not care to know the difference between new and old money. To the working class, new and old money were relatively the same. To some extent, that was true. People that had either new or old money were rich nonetheless but when you grew up rich like Rafe Cameron did, the difference was all that mattered.

The main difference was how the money was procured. Old money was passed down. No one from old money had to work since they were born rich. Their manners were taught at a young age. New money meant that they had worked for what they had. At some point, they were not rich and now they were. They were not as defined and they had to be taught, at an older age, how to act. Rafe’s mother used to say you could see who was from old and new money from their ties. If it was a man, their ties would be neutral colours, nothing flashy. People from new money usually had something to prove and so they would buy extravagant things. For women, it was their heels. Women from old money had small heels that were polished as well. Women from new money had tall heels and they had never learned that they should polish the heel along with the shoe.

Growing up as someone from old money, Rafe had normalized that there was a divide between the rich people in Figure 8. Of course, there was a divide between the Pogues and the Kooks but that divide was course and palpable. This divide was subdued and rarely ever spoken about. Kooks that came from old money lived on the west side of Figure 8 while the Kooks from new money resided on the east. This unspoken rule proved to be useful since the two groups of rich snobs never liked to speak to each other anyways. This rule had been in place years before Rafe was even born and he had thought it would still be there even after he died. That is, until Y/N moved in down the street.

It was at the beginning of June when she moved in. The first sign that things would end terribly was when her family pulled into the parking lot. Her mother drove a beat up blue Camaro while her father trailed behind in a black motorcycle. Most people that lived on the west side of the island didn’t have flashy cars but they were well maintained and not so loud. Everyone knew they were from new money before they even exited their cars. And when they did, it was confirmed these people had just become wealthy.

Rafe’s family, like most on the street, watched from their windows as a tall, burly man with a long black beard and sunglasses opened the truck of his wife’s car and carried two large bags in the door. His two sons, both similar in size and features, followed after him. They carried two pink suitcases inside as the man’s daughter and wife stayed outside to open their garage.

Rafe’s eyes glanced over their house. It was one of the bigger houses on the block but it looked more like a huge cottage than anything else. His mind went to the thought of hippies invading their neighbourhood. He gulped. If they were some type of laid back, motorcycling hippies, he’d go crazy for sure. He knew Sarah would love them though; she always complained about how boring their neighbourhood was. But boring meant normal and that’s what Rafe wanted.

As his mother gossiped on the phone, Rafe watched the mother and the daughter laugh together. The mother looked like a hippie. Her hair was tied up on the top of her head and it had clearly not been brushed. She wore a light green skirt that reached to her ankles which then led to the flip flops that she wore. A white t-shirt was tucked into her skirt and she had big bracelets of all different colours dangling off her wrists. The daughter’s style was similar to her mother’s. She wore pink bootcut jeans and a white crop top, black chunky platform boots pulling the look together. Her hair was different from her mothers and was let down to blow in the breeze. They all looked like polar opposites from everyone else living in Figure 8.

At first, Rafe could care less about the girl or her family across the street. Granted, he would religiously watch through the window for when she would come outside to ride her bike around the neighbourhood with her brothers, and yes, he would sometimes wait until she was outside for him to take out the trash but he didn’t like her. If anything, it was the opposite. Rafe was too good for her. At least, that’s what he led himself to believe.

The first time he spoke to her was two weeks after she moved in. His mother had told him to stay away from Y/N’s family and Rafe had done an amazing job at doing so. Unfortunately, that all stopped when he had to pick Sarah up from school. She had thrown up in the middle of one of her classes and since both his mother and father were at work, the responsibility was on Rafe to pick Sarah up and make sure she was okay. Although reluctant to go back to his old highschool, Rafe knew he’d be in trouble if he was late in picking up his sister. When he entered the school's administration office, he finally came face to face with the girl he had been watching for two weeks now. Except, her back was turned to him as she argued with the secretary.

“That’s what you call a vegetarian dish?” Y/N raised her voice, not particularly enjoying being ignored by the school administration. When she first had come to this school, she had checked off on her form that she needed vegetarian dishes for lunch. Now, everyday since she had come, they had served her horribly chopped up lettuce with vinegar.

“Miss -” Ms. Buzden said, placing her phone on hold. It was the student’s lunch break so she usually called her sister during this time but Y/N was keeping her from doing so.

“Y/N.” Y/N smiled, finally happy she had caught the woman’s attention.

Ms. Buzden rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. “Y/N, dear, if you have a problem with lunch, please take it up with the lunch ladies.”

Y/N sighed, leaning against the secretary’s desk. “I tried to, Beth, but she told me to come here. I will not be ignored.”

Rafe was almost as surprised as Ms. Buzden was when Y/N used her first name. As he stood behind Y/N, waiting for his turn to ask where Sarah was so he could sign her out, he watched in slight amusement at the fact she was nonchalantly complaining to the secretary.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you dear.” Ms. Buzden forced a smile, finally looking over Y/N’s shoulder to Rafe. “Rafe, sweetie, you’re here to sign out Sarah?”

Rafe hesitated for a moment, knowing Y/N’s eyes were on his. He felt as if an imaginary spotlight had shown on him for a solo and he had forgotten the words. His eyes glanced toward Y/N for a moment but it did not help his stage fright. Her beautiful eyes were squinting in his direction and for a moment he thought he would faint underneath her stare. His eyes quickly returned to the secretary’s and nodded quickly. In an embarrassing turn of events, Y/N spoke before Rafe did.

“Hey, I know you.” Y/N’s bracelets clang together as she lifts her hand up and points at Rafe. “You’re my neighbour. You’re always watching me through your window.”

As the secretary busies herself with printing the paperwork, Rafe busies himself by stuttering and gasping for breath at the accusation she had just posed. In an attempt to save himself from anymore embarrassment, Rafe tries and fails at coming up with a good excuse. Instead, he denies the accusation entirely.

“I do not watch you.” Rafe stubbornly blubbers out. He’s trying not to seem so embarrassed but she’s caught him so off guard that there’s nothing else he can do.

Y/N snickers, watching the poor boy stumble on every word. For someone older than her, he was not very mature. “No, you’re right. Watching would imply a causal aspect to the activity. More like you stalk me.”

This time, Rafe boiled over with anger. How dare this girl accuse him of stalking her? Rafe did not chase after any girl, no matter how attractive she was. “That’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it? To think everyone’s eyes are on you?”

Y/N continued to smile, unbothered by Rafe’s obvious rudeness. She shrugs, looking back to the secretary for a moment and grabbing her terrible vegetarian lunch before looking back to Rafe. “Not everyone’s. Just yours.”

And with that, she leaves the office. And Rafe knows he is screwed, because he just met the love of his life.

~

JJ Maybank shared almost everything with his friends. Emphasis on almost. They had always relied on him to be the funny one. To always goof around and take nothing seriously. So, when his dad first started beating after his mother left, he said nothing. He felt it was an unnecessary burden to put on the people that truly loved him. Eventually, the bruises and scars were too overwhelming to keep a secret anymore and he began to confess all his issues to his friends. But even then, as JJ tried to open up to the people he cared the most about, there was one thing he could never share.

He was scared of love.

Not just any love, but specifically romantic love. Every time he felt himself begin to develop deep feelings for anyone, he soon backpedaled and left them hanging. It was too scary to give himself to anyone. It would be a lie if he said it had nothing to do with his mother leaving. He had always believed that there was no love greater than his parents when he was growing up and when his mother left, it shattered him. Of course, he never blamed her for leaving considering how abusive his dad was but it killed JJ to know she did not want him to come with her. He had begun to believe that she didn’t think he was important to bring along. He believed that if she truly loved him, she wouldn’t leave without him. That’s what scared him the most; the fact that someone can change their mind about love so quickly.

So, JJ ran at the first sign of love. And he never shared this with anyone. Until that day.

In early June, when Y/N had first moved to OBX, there was a Start of Summer Fair. Right after classes ended on the last day of school, people in the community organized a fair for everyone who was excited for the summer to start. It was exactly two weeks after Y/N had moved in. Exactly two hours after she spoke to Rafe. Funny how the world works.

Behind the fair, there was a small lake where rarely anyone ventured. It was usually muddy and no one in their right mind would go swimming there. With that being said, JJ wanted to go swimming there. He had spent a solid hour with his friends at the fair before becoming exhausted. It wasn’t so much that his friends were exhausting him but a girl named Anna was. He had gone out with her once and had never called her back (as per usual) but she had not picked up on the hidden messages JJ had given her. Instead, she followed him around during his entire time at the fair like a little lost puppy dog. Just as she announced she was going to the bathroom, JJ had almost died from boredom. Thankfully, her going to the bathroom let JJ slip away from his friends and sneak away from Anna.

“What do you want us to tell her?” Kie asked, watching as her best friend was breaking off from the group.

JJ shrugged, not possibly being able to care less. “I don’t care. For all I care, tell her I died.” A bit harsh, yes, but that’s how JJ operated. Abandon them before they abandon you.

The idea to hide near the lake hit him as soon as he left his friends. No one went back there, not if they wanted an infection. Although slightly disgusting, if that was what he had to do to get away and have a moment of peace, he would make that sacrifice. Unfortunately, he found no peace because the second the lake came into view between two thick trees, JJ saw a girl in the water. At first, he was going to leave, maybe even shout a quick joke her way for getting in the dirty water. But when he saw what she was doing, he became curious and couldn’t help but venture forward and investigate.

Y/N, too invested in what she was currently doing, did not see JJ approaching at first. Daisies had begun to grow around the lake, which was already odd on it’s own, but some of them floated on the surface level of the lake. Y/N thought a bunch of Daisies would be a good surprise for her mother so, in an effort to be thoughtful, she emerged herself, from the waist down, into the water. She was not afraid of the muddy water staining her white dress (she had worse stains on her clothes), even excited to show her mother the lengths she went to to get the Daisies. So, with one hand, she held onto a wicker basket full of Daisies and with the other hand, she grabbed a hold of the daisies in the water.

JJ watched in complete and utter fascination as this girl who he did not recognize, fearlessly went into the lake and plucked some Daisies to put in her basket. She almost didn’t even look real. He blinked quickly to make sure she was even actually there. When he opened his eyes and she was still there, he was glad he hadn’t imagined her.

Finally, Y/N sensed a presence that was not her own. Quickly turning to her right, she made eye contact with JJ and her face softened. He was the least threatening person she’d ever seen and something about him made her heartbeat pick up.

She brushed this feeling off and instead, with a small smile on her lips, spoke confidently. “Hello stalker.”

JJ blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking a few steps closer to the lake. “I’m sorry. Was just wondering what you’re doing here. No one comes here.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Y/N quips backs, a playfulness in her voice.

JJ thinks he might faint. “Um, well, I’m hiding.”

Y/N giggled. “Me too actually.” She grabs more daisies and puts them in her basket. She looks back up at JJ and speaks to him again. “Who are you hiding from?”

JJ gulps. He doesn’t want to scare away this girl by telling her why he’s come back here. He knows anyone else would judge him but, as he looks at her, he can see she would never judge him. “I’m hiding from a girl.”

Y/N nods, not expressing any disgust and JJ’s heart jumps for joy. “I see. Ex-lover, I presume?”

JJ shrugs. “We only went on one date.”

“Must’ve been a terrible date.” She jokes, and JJ realizes that she’s completely stopped what she’s been doing to listen to him.

JJ shakes his head, focused on her cute round cheeks. “Not really. She was nice.”

Y/N pouts. “Then why are you hiding from her?”

JJ feels as though it is too complicated to explain. And besides, how would he start? He’s never told anyone why he truly has never had a girlfriend. But something about this girl makes him trust her completely. He knows it’s the arrogance in her eyes. “I’m scared.”

Y/N nods, as if she understands him completely and he feels as though she does. “I see. You know, when I get irrationally anxious over something like this, I play the What If game.”

JJ’s brows pull together in confusion. “What?”

Y/N moves through the water and closer to the edge where JJ stands. When she arrives at the water’s edge, she reaches her hand out for JJ to grasp. He hesitates first and knows it’s because he likes her so much already and this will be the first time they will touch. The first time he’ll feel her skin against his is beside this muddy lake. Eventually, he grabs her hand and helps her out of the water and he knows, the second his hand touches hers, she’s his dream girl. His hands are on fire and he feels a pit in his stomach grow as her hand grips tighter onto him. There’s a spark and he’s sure there has never been anyone else that made him feel this way.

“The What If game,” Y/N starts, placing her basket on the ground. She starts to ring out the water from her dress but continues to keep eye contact with JJ. “is really easy. Here; tell me a fear you have about falling in love but make sure it starts with ‘what if.’”

JJ thinks for a moment. There are so many and he doesn’t know where to start. Finally, he chooses his biggest fear. “What if she leaves?”

Y/N smiles. “What if she doesn’t though? But, what if she does and then you find who you’re actually supposed to be with? The game is to just rationalize every irrational fear.”

JJ nods, a small smirk growing at the corner of his lips. “You’re not one of those girls who believes every breakup brings you closer to your soulmate?”

Y/N laughs. “Yeah, I wish. I’m not your manic pixie dream girl - wait, what's your name?”

JJ extends his hand, ready to feel her skin again. “JJ Maybank. Yours?”

Y/N smiles and shakes JJ’s hand. This should be interesting, she thinks. “It’s Y/N.”

“So, Y/N,” JJ starts, her name feeling good coming from his mouth. “If you’re not my manic pixie dream girl, then what are you?”

Y/N smiles. She was right. This is definitely going to be interesting. “I’m just yours.”

~

tagging; @tovvaa​

[alccaddsccup]

Disobedience

this was a request from a friend of mine, i hope you enjoy!

Ina x MC

warnings: smut and fluff

tag list: @ikingsley @swimmingshoebakerydreamer @kaitlynliaofanxx @barnibumblr @veenast @livvynka @hellyeah90sbaby

lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

———————————————————————

Bea is bored. Very bored. Ina has barely said two words to her in an hour, completely engrossed in a (super boring) documentary on the tv. Ina’s tv is moderately sized but it’s so old that Bea could swear she saw it in a museum once. She sprawls out onto Ina’s lap, with her head resting on the professor’s thighs

“Man, I could sure use a kiss right now” Ina gives no response and Bea is uncertain if she even heard her. She attempts a different tactic as she takes Ina’s hand and places it on her own forehead. She hopes that Ina might stroke her hair; she has no such luck. Ina pulls her hand back to her side, not even looking down at Bea

With a sigh, Bea gets up from Ina’s lap and crosses the floor of Ina’s apartment

“That bed of yours looks awfully inviting, don’t you think?” Ina hums slightly, barely registering what Bea said. Bea rolls her eyes in frustration but quickly forms a devious plan and grins to herself

She steps into Ina’s room and shuts the door, before searching the underwear drawer for Ina’s secret stash of special things

Once she finds what she’s looking for, she places the bundle of rope on the dresser. Then she strips naked, puts on the toy and equips a silken dressing gown before quietly reopening the bedroom door. She peeks round the doorframe to see if Ina is looking but she seems to be in the exact same position as before (no surprise there.) Making her footsteps sound as angry as possible, Bea walks over to the tv and stands in front of it, facing away from Ina

“Bea! This is the most exciting bit” She exclaims loudly and rapidly moves her head in an attempt to see around Bea

“I need to see if the baby turtles make it offshore” Bea bends forward and turns the tv off. The button clicks loudly and the screen goes dark, accompanied by a slight popping noise

“What the hell?!” Ina’s brow creases in a look of frustration as she yells at Bea. Although the look quickly morphs into one of surprise when Bea turns to face her

The toy, barely concealed under the dressing gown, protrudes boldly towards Ina and her face flushes when she takes note of the hard mounds pushing against the fabric at Bea’s chest

“I was- I-“

“Shh. From now on, only speak when spoken to” Bea steps toward Ina and crouches, so that their faces are level

“Got it?” Ina clenches her jaw in frustration

“I don’t see why-“ Bea grabs Ina by the chin and pulls her face towards her

“Got it?” she repeats the question, more commandingly this time, which causes Ina’s eyes to widen and she nods vigorously

“Good, now stand up” Ina sighs but obliges with Bea’s request, looking at her with expectant eyes once she is upright

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that” Bea quickly gets to work on removing Ina’s clothing, roughly pulling it from her body before discarding it on the floor. Ina’s skin begins to feel hot under the weight of Bea’s gaze as she studies the professor’s gorgeous body from every angle

“Are you just going to keep looking or..?” Bea raises an eyebrow as she sheds the gown, it forms a pool of fabric at her feet

“Of course not” Bea takes one of Ina’s hands and presses it on her own chest

“You can touch me” Ina massages Bea’s breasts, softly at first, then she builds up the pressure until a soft moan escapes the younger woman. Bea shuts her eyes for a moment, almost losing herself in the feeling but she quickly pulls herself out of it; she cannot forget her goal. She grabs Ina by the wrists and walks her backwards until she stands by the arm of the sofa

“Bend over it” Ina’s eyes darken and her cheeks become dusted with crimson as she realises exactly what Bea has planned for her. With little hesitation, she does as she’s told. Ina has to admit that she’s rather enjoying seeing the dominant side of Bea

Once Ina is positioned perfectly, Bea steps forward so that the toy is mere centimetres from Ina’s centre. She slowly drags it up and down her damp folds, using her hand to guide the movements, and this causes Ina to instinctively push her hips back. However, Bea’s grip on Ina is strong and she pushes her away from the toy

“I call the shots, understood?” Ina breathes out a shaky ‘yes’ and Bea continues her teasing. This time, she runs a finger through Ina’s dampness before inserting the finger inside of her. Ina moans softly but does not push her hips back and so Bea begins to pump her finger in and out slowly. She can feel Ina’s core heating up and becoming slicker as she continues her movements

Once she is satisfied with Ina’s condition, she inserts the toy and pushes it in as far as it can go before pulling it all the way out ever so slowly

“Bea, I need more” One of Ina’s fists is clenched so tightly that she can feel the crescent shapes of her nails digging into her palm. Bea chuckles

“I don’t care about what you need” Bea pulls the toy all the way out

“We’re doing this my way” With that, Bea pushes the toy back in, hard. Ina cries out but is secretly delighted to feel so much of the toy inside of her. Bea continues to fuck Ina hard and slow which elicits a variety of noises from her, including many curses and shouts. If Ina’s neighbours are home, they can definitely hear her

After several moments of slow movements, Bea grabs onto Ina’s hair in one hand and grips one of Ina’s hips firmly in the other. She picks up the pace rapidly and without warning, which causes Ina’s legs to tremble. She reaches one of her hands up towards her chest and begins the play with her own nipple. Bea quickly takes note of Ina’s actions and pulls away, Ina almost whimpers but she stops herself. She cannot let Bea think she has total control of her

“Come” Bea pulls Ina from the sofa and begins to lead her towards the bedroom

“I was about to” Bea stops, pushing Ina up against the wall and pressing her thigh between Ina’s legs. This causes her eyes to shut briefly

“You’re not gonna come until I say you can” She places a brief kiss on the corner of Ina’s mouth before trailing her lips to the woman’s ear

“So get ready to wait” Bea steps away from Ina before grabbing her wrist and leading her to the bed. Ina takes note of the rope on the bedside table

“Tying me up because you can’t control me?” Bea just hums nonchalantly, refusing to take Ina’s bait

“I’m tying you up because I want to” She picks up the bundle of rope and begins to unravel it

“Now get on the bed” Ina rolls her eyes but complies. Luckily, Bea’s gaze is focused on the rope in her hands and so she doesn’t see Ina’s brief act of disobedience

Once she has untangled the rope, she makes her way over to the bed; Ina is laying on her side with her chin propped up by her hand

“Lie on your back” Ina doesn’t budge

“What if I don’t want to?” Bea raises her eyebrows in surprise, she thought Ina was too aroused to be disobedient

Bea gets on the bed and pushes Ina onto her back before straddling one of her thighs. She begins to grind down, letting Ina feel the full extent of her wetness which elicits a tiny whimper from the Ina. If Bea wasn’t listening she would’ve missed it but luckily, she was. It seems like Bea is affecting the professor more than she realised which makes her grin

“Someone’s desperate” Ina lets out a huff as she grabs onto Bea’s hips

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care” Bea chuckles at Ina’s annoyance before suddenly taking Ina’s wrists and pinning them above her head on the pillow. She lets her breasts press firmly on Ina’s

“I fully intend to” Bea grabs the rope with one hand and retains her grip on Ina’s wrists with the other

She loops one of the shorter rope pieces around Ina’s wrists and ties them together. With the remaining length of rope, she ties her wrists to the headboard before placing a firm kiss on Ina’s lips. Ina surges up to deepen the kiss but Bea backs away

“I thought we were doing what I wanted” Ina rolls her eyes which makes Bea realise she’s had enough of the professor’s disobedience. She takes the remaining rope and ties it to the bottom bedposts before using the other ends to tie Ina’s ankles to each post. She eyes Ina’s centre hungrily

“Looks like you’re making quite a mess”

“Clean it up then” Ina retorts sharply and immediately regrets it. Bea positions herself between Ina’s legs, lining up the toy so that it teases her dripping core

“You’re going to beg for me or I won’t let you come” Ina shuts her mouth firmly, refusing to give in

“I see how it is” Bea pushes they toy in firmly but slowly which makes Ina moan, although she does her best to hold it in. She pulls it back out slowly

“Ready to beg?” Ina does not reply and so Bea repeats her previous motion. This time she pushes in harder but Ina doesn’t beg. She pinches one of Ina’s nipples as she pulls out and pounds into her very slowly. Bea watches Ina’s face as she closes her eyes and scrunches her nose but she still doesn’t beg

Attempting a different tactic, Bea rapidly picks up the pace which makes Ina moan loudly. After a few moments, she pulls out completely and stands up. As she steps away from the bed she hears Ina mumble something

“What was that?”

“..please” Bea is secretly ecstatic to finally have Ina beg for her, but she keeps her cool

“Please what Ina?” Ina sighs

“Fuck me. Please” She opens her eyes to look at Bea, her eyes seem to be the darkest they have ever been. Bea smiles before discarding the toy

Ina is confused for a brief moment until she sees Bea position her mouth between her legs. Without hesitation, Bea pushes her tongue into Ina firmly which makes her cry out. She licks every sensitive part of Ina’s centre before circling her clit with the tip of her tongue and then diving back inside. Ina pulls hard on the rope, desperately wanting to push Bea’s face further into her, but the rope does not give and soon all thoughts of her restraints are forgotten as she finally gets her release

Bea places a final kiss on Ina’s centre before trailing her lips down one of Ina’s legs until she reaches the rope tied around her ankle. She undoes the rope with quick fingers and moves to the other ankle to do the same. Before completely freeing Ina, Bea nibbles at the skin of Ina’s collarbone, fully intent on leaving a mark. Once she is satisfied, she releases Ina from the rest of the ties and snuggles into her chest

“Have you forgotten about the documentary now?” Ina laughs

“What documentary?” Bea kisses Ina’s shoulder

“Good” Ina strokes Bea’s hair as Bea draws circles on the smooth expanse of skin above Ina’s breasts. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Ina clears her throat

“Bea, I’m sorry for not paying more attention to you earlier” She kisses the top of Bea’s head

“I hope you can forgive me” Bea smiles at the sincerity of Ina’s apology

“Of course I forgive you. It was pretty cute seeing you so fascinated with the baby turtles” Ina chuckles and smacks Bea’s arm lightly

“I’m not cute” Bea sits up to place a kiss on the tip of Ina’s nose before snuggling back into her chest

“You so are” Ina doesn’t reply, but she feels herself grin at Bea’s words

The pair stay snuggled up until they fall asleep intertwined, feeling safe and content in each other’s arms

[heliads]

A Ruse By Any Other Name

Pietro Maximoff has just discovered the occupant of the HYDRA cell next to his- another Sokovian survivor of the experiments. Y/N L/N can tell any lie, convince someone to do anything she wishes. All Pietro can think about, however, is the life they could have together.

masterlist

There is no way out of this cell. Pietro knows this, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He’s been given this accursed gift, he should at least be able to do something to leave. He slams against the walls with enough of an impact to shake the ceiling; nothing happens. He’s tried this enough times for bruises to cover him like freckles, but even those disappear faster than they should. No matter what he tries, the walls remain.

It feels unfair, somehow, like if he’s been giving this raging pulse and this overwhelming need to run he should have a place to do it. You gave this to me, he wants to shout, now take it back or at least make it feel like I don’t want to tear myself apart. Pietro knows that if he says anything like this they’ll drag him back to the labs and it’ll be even worse than before. So he keeps his mouth shut, and lets his frequent attempts to escape do the talking for him.

There’s a resulting thump on the other side of the wall, and he falls quiet for a second. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that he isn’t alone. All Pietro knows is the rough mess of a schedule that has become his life as a test subject of HYDRA- some days in the labs, most of the time spent in this cell unless he’s deemed useful enough to be allowed out into the field. Even then, on those scarce days of reprieve, they’re careful to keep him out of sight so the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. won’t pick up on his presence and try to stop him. Otherwise, they’ll send over a team to kill everyone in the vicinity and call it justice.

No, Pietro isn’t alone. On one side of his cell is another containment block, one that holds his twin sister Wanda. She doesn’t share his same speed, his same need to move and move until his feet are raw and bleeding. He’s seen the way she can manipulate the objects around her, twisting minds like they’re toys in a display. It should scare him, he supposes, yet he just feels numb about it. She is Wanda, she would never hurt him. Not unless they made her, and no one has ever been able to make Wanda do something she doesn’t want to do. Not now.

He’s making it sound like they didn’t want this, like they weren’t volunteers. Pietro and Wanda were the ones to show up at HYDRA’s door, asking for a chance to turn their ghosts into weapons and their dirty palms into those of saints. People have failed them over and over again, it felt like time to tip the scales back the other way. HYDRA hadn’t said a word, just welcomed them in and locked the door behind them. Sometimes, Pietro wonders if he would have changed his mind had he known the full extent of what they’d undergo. Would they stay away? Or would they have come anyway, knowing there was nothing left for them but broken houses and the bodies of their parents right next to that bomb?

Pietro and Wanda aren’t the only HYDRA volunteers to survive, however. There is one more: a girl, one about their age. Pietro has never seen her in person, only heard the rumors in pieces and snatches from security guards whose usually stoic silence is broken by nervous chatter. Her name is Y/N L/N, although the guards all call her the Ruse. She has powers not unlike Wanda, in that she can manipulate people’s minds, but the similarities end there. Y/N’s powers have an entirely different edge, something that can convince the toughest of guards that they have something to fear.

The Ruse got her name because of her powers. She can convince you of anything, get you to believe any lie no matter how false. They say she whispers things into your head, can make you believe that your family is out to kill you and that your lover has poisoned your mind. With just a second’s concentration, she can rewrite your entire head and convince you to do anything she wants. That could involve giving her information, selling out an organization, killing a thousand people before you knew it. Pietro sometimes wonders if her victims know what’s going on while she’s controlling them, if they’re silently screaming even as their trigger finger tightens. Then a shiver runs over him, and he forces himself to stop thinking about it at all.

HYDRA allows the Ruse into the field more often than Pietro or Wanda, using her as a spy and a mercenary and whatever else they can think of. She has considerably more freedom, if you could call it that, because HYDRA’s taken another precaution with her. They’ve experimented with the old Winter Soldier programs, placing basic mind control over her. HYDRA can make sure she only tells the lies they want to spread, and that she has no way to control any of them. And so it is that the spider is caught by the web, that the one with the power to spin any lie is trapped by one greater than herself.

There’s a loud sound in the hallways, pairs of boots thudding down the hall. Through the barred window on the cell door, Pietro can see them dragging someone through the corridor. A guard steps forward to unlock Y/N’s cell, then they throw her unceremoniously through the door. The lock shuts with a click, and all guards leave the block, presumably to check with an official to make sure she hasn’t caught them within any lies.

There’s quiet for a long time, and then Pietro hears something else. It’s barely there at all, and he wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the inhuman abilities given to him by HYDRA. To be honest, it almost sounds like somebody is crying. Pietro slows down for once in his life, crossing the cell hesitantly until he stands before the wall neighbouring Y/N’s cell.

Over the past few hours, Pietro has found a hole in the wall, a chink in the cinderblock and concrete where you can see through to the other side. It’s about the size of his fist, disguised by a low-hanging scrap of material. Pietro pushes it aside, allowing him to see Y/N for the first time. When his eyes first fall on her, he draws in a breath sharply.

She’s beautiful. Pietro doesn’t know what he had thought she would look like- cruel, maybe calculating, a glint in her eye that never seemed to fade? How do you portray the Ruse? But the girl slumped against the cell wall before him doesn’t seem like a villain, somebody who scares everyone in HYDRA’s payroll. No, she just looks afraid.

She must have heard him, because her head falls away from her hands and she looks up at him. When she speaks, her voice is quiet, cracked from the tears. “Are you Pietro?” Pietro nods. “Sorry to spy on you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Pietro isn’t sure what he was expecting she’d say, but he doesn’t anticipate what she does next. She laughs bitterly, leaning her head back against the wall.

“I’m not. Not at all.” She lets her gaze drift from the ceiling back to him. “I don’t know what’s real. I don’t know anything at all. I’ve told so many lies and had so many more pumped into my head that I don’t know what way is up. Nothing makes sense, because everything I can remember contradicts itself. I don’t even know who I am. I’m the Ruse, I guess, but I don’t even know what that means.”

Pietro listens to her, feeling his spirits sink in sympathy. “You’re Y/N L/N. You’re a spy, and you’ll be able to work through this because you’ve been working through this for as long as you’ve been here.” Y/N sighs. “I’ve been breaking apart as long as I’ve been here, and I don’t think I can figure things out again. There are so many stories in my head, Pietro, and I don’t think any of them are true. If I say something and I believe it, is it true or am I using my powers? Nothing makes sense.”

It’s hard to look at this utterly broken girl in front of him and think that this is the all-powerful Ruse that has the directors of HYDRA quaking in their polished boots. Pietro doesn’t know what to say, and he tells her as much. Y/N chuckles. “Well, I don’t think anyone could know. I can get in your head, but you can’t get in mine.” She squints at him now. “Why did you check on me in the first place? Aren’t you scared that I’m going to control your mind like everyone else?”

Pietro shrugs. “I don’t know what you could do to me that hasn’t already happened. I can’t leave the base, I already have powers, there’s nobody I could hurt except myself and I heal pretty quickly. It’s kind of my thing.” Y/N smiles at that, a genuine smile. Pietro doesn’t think he’s seen it all day, and he wishes he could tell another joke so he could see it again. Y/N might not know what’s true and what’s not, but Pietro knows that she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen when she smiles at him like that.

Y/N clears her throat. “Tell you what, Pietro, if we ever get out of here I’ll think about what you said. Figure things out and whatnot. Keep moving forward.” Pietro smiles ruefully. “That sounds pretty good. I might even walk instead of run.” Y/N snorts. “That’s a little extreme, Maximoff. Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.” The sound of approaching guards makes Pietro hurriedly duck back into his cell, but he still thinks to himself that he’d give up all of his powers and then some if it means that he could have a future with Y/N away from HYDRA. They may have just met, but it feels like he could spend a lifetime with her.

When Pietro and Wanda meet Ultron, the first thing he thinks is that it’s a way out. If they go with him, they can escape HYDRA, turn their backs on the labs and the tests and the sinking knowledge that by signing up they may have made the worst mistake of their lives. His second thought is that when he and Wanda don’t return, he’s damning Y/N to stay at that facility until the end of her days. It cuts at him like a knife, a guilt that he can’t quite shake.

Ultron promises many things. Power, legacy, a chance to rebuild. All of it calls to Pietro in the same way that HYDRA’s programs called to him all that time ago. He’s terrified of making another mistake, and finds him wishing that he could turn to Y/N and ask her what she thought. Y/N has seen a thousand decisions being made, and had a hand in most of them. She tends to have some pretty good advice on what to do, and Pietro could use her voice right now.

In the end, he makes the choice himself. They decide to throw their lot in with Ultron, turning their backs on HYDRA and opening a door to the future ahead. When this doesn’t work out, they switch to the Avengers like handing off a baton. There’s a fight coming, a fight that Pietro knows has a pretty good chance of turning south. If he dies, there’s something he wants to do first.

When he tells Wanda his plan, she thinks it’s a terrible idea. “You want to go back to the HYDRA facilities? If they caught us, they would kill us.” Pietro shrugs. “That’s why we won’t get caught.” Wanda had rolled her eyes, telling him that she would haunt him forever if his stupid idea got them killed, but in the end she had agreed to go along with it. That’s how Pietro and Wanda ended up breaking into the HYDRA base, or specifically the cell block along the southern perimeter. 

The bonus of having lived there is that Pietro knows which guards have the keys and which don’t, when to time a break-in so that the guards are still on rotation and won’t find them, and the exact cell where Y/N is locked away. When he opens the door, she stares at him for a second, then runs over and flings her arms around him. “I thought you were gone for good.” Then she steps back, doubt creeping over her. “Is it really you, or is this just something they’ve made up to mess with me?”

It hurts Pietro to think that HYDRA would use him against her, so he gestures towards his head. “Check and find out. I promise, it’s me. I’m getting you out of here.” She grins at him, a wild grin full of hope and excitement that she’ll finally have the life they both dreamed of on the nights they couldn’t sleep for the nightmares. Pietro picks her up in his arms, running as fast as he can to pass by the guards before they can even draw another breath.

They come to a stop outside the facility, Wanda joining them shortly thereafter. Y/N flashes her a smile. “Thanks for the rescue.” Wanda waves the gratitude away. “Don’t thank me, it was all Pietro’s idea. He practically begged me to come help you out.” Pietro’s about to chide Wanda for saying this, but when Y/N turns to him with a beaming look he feels like he could break into a hundred more HYDRA facilities just to prove it to her that he could.

They both end up joining the Avengers for the fight. Y/N refuses to leave if they need to defend the city against Ultron, especially if Pietro will be there. “You just saved me from HYDRA. I can’t leave you here to fight alone.” Pietro shrugged, saying that as long as she remained safe he would be alright with it, but secretly he couldn’t be happier that she was staying. They’re out now, out for good. He doesn’t want to leave her side for a second.

The fight against Ultron is difficult to say the least. Ultron summons up hundreds of drones out of nowhere, which swarm the streets like insects. Pietro, Y/N, and the rest of the Avengers take them down as soon as they appear, but it feels like they’re fighting on borrowed time. How long until there are too many, and a wave of metal robots chokes out the sky from above him?

At last, the fight looks like it will be over. They’ve managed to get the last of the refugees onto the ships, and Y/N is seconds away from boarding one herself. Pietro’s about to join her, and then he looks over his shoulder and sees them. Clint, who’d made sure Pietro could join the Avengers in the first place, and the child he’s carrying to safety. Pietro also sees the ship swooping over them, the bullets about to hit them.

Time seems to slow down. Pietro knows what he has to do to save them, the only choice he has. It’s the only way to pay Clint back for saving him, for saving Wanda. They’ll be able to make it after this. He has time to wish that Y/N will forgive him for this, and then he’s gone, twisting through the street just in time to block the bullets. Clint’s head is ducked as he prepares for the metal to tear through his flesh, but he looks up with a startled look as no impact occurs. Pietro manages a cocky grin. “Didn’t see that coming?”

Then the pain hits, and he collapses to the ground. There are too many bullets for him to heal, too many to save him. Pietro can hear a scream, and he realizes it’s Y/N. He wants to tell her that he’s sorry, but he can’t find the words. She’s kneeling next to him now, and he can see the tears glistening in her eyes. Even like this, pain lacing her every feature, she’s still just as beautiful as the first time he’d seen her.

Pietro can feel his heart rate slowing, stopping. Y/N gets this look in her eyes of panic, of fear. She cradles his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her. When she speaks, her voice seems charged with some kind of power. It’s unlike anything he’s ever heard before. “You are going to be alright. Your wounds are going to heal, and you are going to survive.” Her gaze is captivating, impossible to ignore. For some reason, Pietro listens, and for some reason, his wounds start to close up.

He can feel the flesh reknitting, but it makes no sense. He died, or he should have. Why is he healing now, why is he standing up and taking in another lungful of air? He goes to take a step, then stumbles. Y/N catches him, and he draws her close. He can feel her sobbing in his arms, but they’re aren’t sobs of sorry anymore- they’re of relief. Pietro forces himself to speak. “How did you do that? I thought I was dead.”

Y/N speaks through her tears. “You were dead. I just needed you to stay alive, so I used my powers, I guess.” She looks up at him, and Pietro realizes that she’s nervous, as if afraid that he’ll be disgusted by this display of powers and move away from her. Instead, he draws her closer. “You’re amazing, Y/N. Honestly. You saved my life.” She lets out something between a laugh and a sob. “Just don’t ask me to do it again.”

Pietro grins, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t intend on dying anytime soon. We have a future to plan, remember?” Y/N smiles up at him. “How could I forget?”

marvel taglist: @mycosmicparadise​

[gyllenhaalstories]

BEST FRIEND!JAKE — PART 4.

warnings: mentions of them as children & teenagers (it is assumed they are close in age), mentions of underage drinking. mentions of cheating if you squint really hard. MINORS DON’T INTERACT, 18+.

notes: this is a request, and also a spin off on my 3 other parts except they’re absolutely not related and i’m going in a completely different direction. it was supposed to be nice, short and silly, but it got poetic real quick, oopsie! if you want to read the rest, check out my masterlist! i hope you guys will enjoy! <3

Jake and you had quite the history.

Neighbours, family friends, childhood shenanigans that always revolved around Jake stealing your toys as a way to invite you to come over at his place and hang out so more or you seeking your revenge by stealing his spot on the swings at the park,

You knew Jake like the back of your hand, except that you ignored his favourite colour but that does not invalidate your friendship.

You did not go to the same schools, but your parents set homework dates every night so you could help each other out and have time to catch up about your crazy day at school. One day you’d have dinner at Jake’s, the next one it was at yours.

Jake was more than the annoying kid next door. Jake was family to you.

And you were family to him too.

You celebrated the holidays with the Gyllenhaals’, you had presents waiting for you and surprise birthday parties at their place every year.

You set up plays and performances in the basement, dressing up with bits and pieces of costumes from movie sets that Jake took home, or his father asked to keep knowing it would entertain the two of you.

You watched Care Bear episodes, holding your favourite bear from the show, during rainy days and eat candies that would keep you up all night. You went up to your room, way past your bedtime. You hid under the covers with a flashlight, reading a book or drawing crazy imaginary creatures. You giggled wen your parents reminded you to go to sleep, you both had school the next day. Jake did not have time to move back down to his air mattress, he slept in your bed, holding one paw of the teddy bear he got you years ago while you held the other one.

If soulmates ever existed, you were the living proof of it.

*~*~*

Eventually, High School was coming to an end and you were facing the biggest dilemmas of your existence.

What to do, where to go... Jake had plans. He wanted to go out to college, to pursue his dreams. He brought home brochures and post cards, printed website pages and invitations to open houses of schools that might interest you. The problem was that your own dreams were very different from his.

All your lives, opposites attracted. Jake was quirky, played in a band, had this emo phase he would forever be in denial about. You were both whirlwind of emotions, opinions and ambitions, but for the first time ever: it became a huge problem. 

An earthquake came, bursting your bubble of plans and dreams with him.

What caused it? You might never know.

Maybe it was the fact you guys started to hold hands when you took a stroll around the neighbourhood on weekends, sharing headphones and discovering new music together. Maybe it was the fact you two would go to the mall, you’d buy him a nice t-shirt, he’d buy you a new bracelet. Maybe it was the fact you started to end your messages and phone calls with quick, but heartfelt, “i love yous”, not really knowing if you both meant it or not. Maybe it was the fact you stopped doing homework together, because whenever you showed up at his house, there would be this other girl from his school. She’d hold on his arm, steal his hoodies that were once part of your wardrobe. Maybe it was the fact you had an argument about prom, breaking the promise you made that you would attend together. Maybe it was the fact he told you he could not go, but you bumped into him at the party afterwards and caught him and that one girl kissing in the kitchen when you wanted to fill your red solo cup.

Maybe it was the fact that the two of you were drifting apart.

And you stood by the shore, watching the boat sail away in the distance.

*~*~*

The waters were calm and stable, you had found the right path for you. You had a job you did not hate that much, and you were living with someone who brought you joy and made you laugh every night. What else could you ask for?

One night, you could not fall asleep and you were sitting by the desk, diving deep into random google and wikipedia searches when you received a notification on your email. The address seemed familiar, the message simple, it was a link to one of your favourite song, growing up; that one song you listened to constantly on your MP3 player. The one song that came back in your most streamed music on Spotify.

“Together forever, remember?”

In an urge you could not understand, you put on shoes and an old hoodie from Columbia University, the same hoodie you received in the mail years ago with a plane ticket to the Big Apple that you never used. And you headed straight out of your small city apartment, with your car keys in your hands and you drove.

You drove deep into the night, becoming one of those weirdos who was out on the road at 3 am.

You knew the way by heart, one left turn there; a few more turns on the right.

You stopped the car, the parking lot seemed abandoned.

You walked, your feet disappearing in the cold sand. You followed the steps of the person that was standing by the beach, where the waves slowly caressed the shore. You opened your mouth to shout, but spoke softly instead. “Never gonna give you up.”

Jake turned around, the moon reflected on the water and lit up his face. There were traces of tears, of sadness and of fatigue.

You held his hands tightly in yours. They felt so warm, so familiar. They felt like home.

And you pulled him into a hug. Your face disappeared in the nape of his neck and his arms circled your waist tighter than ever before.

Jake stood there, silent. He did not feel like explaining what was weighing heavy on his shoulders. He knew that whatever was going on, it would be fixed by you. You always fixed everything.

You sighed in the embrace. It felt even better than what you imagined in the numerous dreams you had about this very special day you would reunite.

Life tried to keep you apart, but soul mates always found a way back.

You finally looked up and met his eyes, the sun was slowly rising in the horizon. You nodded, he smiled. It was like you both finally realized what you refused to acknowledge since the first time you met him, that you were two missing pieces of the same puzzle and the best way to fix this problem was to be together.

He broke the silence, promising to make you a room in his new apartment, to help you relocate and find a better job in New York City, to show you all the spots he sent you photos of during the year. He promised to make it up for all the broken promises he made in the past.

He ignored the extent of your existence, here. He ignored you had someone waiting for you at home, probably spamming you with messages and phonecalls. He ignored you had a big decision to make in this refreshing morning, whether to give Jake and yourself the chance you deserved or waste this second chance.

You were his safety jacket, who, once pressed tight against his heart, helped him keep his head above the water.

Jake was your lighthouse, guiding you home.

[nctsjiho]

Jam Session

warnings: none

era: Summer of 2020

❀ Mark and JiHo have a little jam session in her room

A soft knock sounded at the door of JiHo’s room. She hummed loud enough for the person behind the door to hear and soon after the door opened. JiHo looked up from her position on her bed, where she had made herself comfortable with her phone in her hand. In the doorway stood a sheepish looking boy with wide innocent eyes. A chuckle pushed past JiHo’s lips as she eyed Mark’s timid figure. “What’s up?”

Mark took a step into the room and held up his guitar that he had brought down from his dorm, five floors up. With a confused look JiHo spoke, “You know Haechan’s room is on the other side of the hallway right?” The boy just ignored her and settled down in front of her on her bed.

“I’m not here for Haechan.” This confused JiHo more. It wasn’t unusual for Mark to come down here with his guitar. The members would sometimes have evening jam sessions - though usually they would be held on the 10th floor since the 5th floor had some uptight neighbours. When it was just Mark and his guitar coming over, it was either because him and Haechan wanted to practise some covers and play around a bit, or him and Taeyong were planning out some potential NCT or SuperM songs. So it came as a bit of a shock to hear that Mark wasn’t planning on doing either of those things.

“What brings you here then?” The girl squints, curious about why he had come down all this way. “It’s just been a while since we’ve sang together. So I thought-” “Oh no, dude I’m not singing.” JiHo interjected. The boy sighed and threw his head back a little. “Dude, I haven’t heard you sing like this in such a long time!” Mark whined causing JiHo to start feeling bad. “You know I don’t really sing. And definitely not like this.” She motioned to the guitar.

Mark knew that JiHo was insecure about her voice, something that no one understood because she could’ve easily been a main vocalist if she had the confidence for it.

“JiHo listen, I don’t care if you suck or if you sound like an angel. There’s no pressure, no one is watching. It’s literally just us, jamming for fun. I can even bet you that my voice will crack at least once if we sing together.” He explained trying to ease the tension. JiHo smiled a little at his last statement. “Well, your voice cracking, that’s just a given.” She commented with a mischievous grin which had Mark groaning. “Okay fine, but please. Just this one time.” His fingers fidgeted around the strings, like they were waiting for JiHo’s signal to start strumming a song.

A few seconds pass in silence before JiHo exhaled loudly. “Okay! Only this one time. And afterwards don’t you dare bring your guitar anywhere near my room.” Mark nodded excitedly. “I’ll use that guitar right there then.” He joked, pointing towards the guitar sitting in the corner of the room. JiHo rolled her eyes but didn’t comment on it further and Mark began strumming a familiar tune on the instrument in his hands.

Back in 2019 JiHo had once told Mark that ‘Superhuman’ was probably one of, if not her favourite song of theirs. She loved performing that song so much and was sad when the their promotions and the tour ended.  She also shared about how singing it together that one night in the air bnb in Brooklyn was one of her favourite memories. Some of the boys were either drunk or extremely sleepy, but they all sang it together and it became such a fond memory.

That’s why Mark had figured out the cords and a good arrangement to play it on the guitar. An acoustic version specially made for JiHo. The girl’s eyes were looking down to her lap where her hands tapped along to the rhythm of the song and they began to sing. They kind of figured out who was singing what part at what times, with JiHo mostly singing the main vocal line with Mark harmonizing and him taking his own rap parts when JiHo stopped for him to sing.

“If you wanna feel it say yeah~” “Yeah~” Mark added and he let the last note of the guitar ring through the room. The two basked in the lingering mood of the song before Mark spoke up. “You’re such a good singer, you know that right?” JiHo just dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand and Mark decided to just move on to the next song.

They sang a plethora of different songs. Some being their own, some being mainly rap songs, but most were some Mark thought would really fit JiHo’s voice.

“Once you gain a bit more confidence I swear you can just take Doyoung hyung or Taeil hyung’s parts.” Mark laughed, but he was being somewhat serious. He really believed that JiHo had a great voice and there wouldn’t be a reason for her not to get more vocal lines and high notes in their songs. Not that he didn’t think she wasn’t doing a good job as a rapper. On the contrary, she was doing too good of a job to only get the small amount of lines she does get, but that was just one of the down side of having so many members in a group. There were so many members who didn’t get that many lines, luckily they would get more on side tracks in the album or they would have more parts in a next comeback.

JiHo had only given the boy a sad smile, fully aware that her confidence was the main culprit in her career and her live in general. She wouldn’t like to admit that her confidence - or well, her lack thereof - had gotten in the way of opportunities because she had been quick to turn them down at the thought of stepping out of her comfort zone. The boys knew about this to a certain extent, but if only they knew what kind of jobs and opportunities she had turned down, she would most likely have all of the boys nagging at her.

She was so good at faking her confidence on stage, but when it came to certain things, her confidence tanked completely and she’d rather turn away one of the best things that could ever happen to her, than to confront it and possibly get engulfed by anxiety. Luckily she didn’t always have to fake confidence, she was pretty happy with her dance and rap skills and she didn’t care too much about looks as she kept her body healthy and in good shape almost all of the time. It was mostly the singing that made her anxious so she was happy for the amazing vocalists in her group being in charge of all that responsibility.

Mark had stood up and sent the girl a thumbs up. “Cheer up, dude. You did really great and I had a lot of fun.” “Yeah, I actually had a lot of fun as well.” A playful smile formed on the boy’s lips. “So tomorrow again?” Before JiHo could protest Mark walked out the room. “See you tomorrow!” JiHo rolled her eyes at Mark’s antics, but smiled when he heard Haechan stop him in the room and yell at him for betraying him and not coming to sing with him instead.

She actually hadn’t mind singing with Mark. Initially she was a bit nervous, but then again it was only him and her and if anyone else were to hear her it was only going to be her roommates who’ve already heard her sing enough times before. Not quite sure if Mark was actually going to stop by the next day to sing together again, JiHo got herself ready to go and sleep. This time she didn’t dread the thought of singing and for once was kind of excited to sing.

---

Side note: This wasn’t really Mark focused ig (?? idk), so I’m gonna try to do another Mark post soon-ish (don’t count on it). This idea just came to me an hour ago and I only have a few hours left before I post this, so I wrote it pretty quickly. It’s not really that good of a post so I’m sorry for that. (if you haven’t, my previous post ‘Still My Favourite’ with Jeno was pretty cute so you could read that one, I posted it yesterday ^^ shameless self promo on my own blog wow-)

[chilling-seavey]

Seasons Change (d.s.) - ONE

↳  A/N This one already holds a special place in my heart and it has barely even begun! Might be a bit slower on updates because I want to make sure it’s perfect for us all. Thank you to @stuffofseaveyy for your unwavering help with plotting this storyline out, @randomlimelightxxx for your excitement and help, and of course, @jonahlovescoffee​ for being my hype girl and the best mayor’s wife anyone could ask for ;)

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2520

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

If you weren’t looking, you would miss it. An hour-and-a-half drive east of Hartford, Connecticut rested a small town that barely occupied more than an intersection of space in time. On your way east towards state lines, a rectangular green sign half covered by an oak tree would welcome you to Lincoln – Population: 200. You’d leave the town before you even realized you were in it if you weren’t paying attention but maybe that’s how the locals liked it.

People moved to Lincoln to get away from the bustle of the city…it was full of those people who had ‘let’s ditch this town’ mindsets and set down roots in a section of the world where they wouldn’t be bothered. It was the type of town that lived in the lyrics of a country song: picture perfect homegrown peace where everyone knew everyone and everyone had a place. It was easy to know everyone in a town like Lincoln. Driving in from the city you would pass a white paneled church, a few small single storey houses with lengthy driveways, the red trimmed general store, a brick sided restaurant, a run down and rusted mechanic’s shop, and catch a glimpse of the small community center just past the park before being enveloped by the nothingness that middle-of-nowhere Connecticut was known for.

Not much happened in Lincoln – at least nothing that was worth noting. Sometimes a car would break down and a city dweller in a designer suit would find his way to the general store to ask for assistance or, more often, a coyote would be rumoured to be roaming at night but that was the extent of the excitement. The most exciting thing to do outside of day to day work was play hockey and it seemed to be the town’s pride and joy of a pastime. There was no such thing as ‘hockey season’ as hockey season was year round in the small town of Lincoln, Connecticut. The community center housed an ice rink that could be melted down to a basketball court but everyone stayed for the hockey. The Lincoln Lighting Junior and Senior leagues were usually the talk of the town. The school-aged boys (ages 7-13) played for the juniors and the later teens and most of the fathers played for the senior league. The captain of the senior league was the coach of the juniors and he owned one of the few farms a few paces north of the main intersection.

A father of one and the best hockey player Lincoln had ever seen, Daniel Seavey was more than one could expect from a small town man.

He wasn’t your everyday potato farmer with uneven tan lines or a body that housed more beer than muscle and, in fact, he was the talk and the eye candy of the town. At only twenty-nine, Daniel was the best of the best in Lincoln: best hockey player, best coach, best farmer, best guitarist, best father; and he had the sandy brown hair and sky blue eyes of a heartbreaker to top it all. At six feet tall, Daniel was slim and handsome, and yet had the muscles capable of running a farm and shooting slapshots like you wouldn’t believe. Daniel was quiet and polite and he innocently humoured the wives of the town as they flirted with him in front of their unimpressed husbands.

But no one could be mad at Daniel. Not when he was the first and only widow Lincoln had ever seen.

Marigold Seavey was twenty-six when she died in her bed at their farmhouse in the early hours of the morning. Her passing was the first major event to ever shake the town of Lincoln. Everyone knew everyone in this town and, that being said, everyone knew what a sunshiny soul Marigold was. Daniel, especially, seemed to have his light burnt out once she was buried behind the church at the corner of town. Some of the folks in town will tell you that the saddest sight they had ever seen was Daniel standing at the foot of his wife’s grave after the funeral with his six-year-old son holding his hand and the two of them crying silent tears into the fresh fall soil.

Despite Daniel’s quiet persona, he was strong and he knew he had to be for the sake of his young son. He couldn’t wallow in his grief for long since he had a son to raise and a farm to tend to and the generosity of the townsfolk certainly helped him to stay on his feet after his wife passed.

It had been a year-and-a-half since Marigold died. Daniel had just turned twenty-nine as March moulded into April and the winter chill was starting to fade into spring and the second birthday without her wasn’t any easier. The birthday cake baked by his neighbour wasn’t as delicious as Marigold’s classic lemon cake she would make him every year but he politely thanked the woman and dared not complain. Daniel would never complain over the niceties of the townsfolk.

That’s what came with living in such a small town; everyone had everyone’s back.

It was the first Sunday of April and the first truly nice spring day of the year. With a crisp breeze in the air, it was only just warm enough to discard the winter jackets and most of the town was gathered in the large backyard of the mayor’s house for the usual after-church brunch. On the colder Sundays, brunch was held in the main restaurant but everyone preferred to gather in the fresh air and over the crisp green grass of the mayor’s house as soon as the weather permitted.

The mayor’s house was the largest and had the most land outside of the farms that were just north of the main intersection in town. Jonah – known by the locals as such since he didn’t like the formality that came with the title of ‘Mayor Frantzich’ – and his wife Jocelyn kept a pretty house on the edge of the little town. They could be what you call the ideal small town family with two kids, a dog, and white picket fence – enough backyard space for it to be the perfect spot for weekly brunch.

The town children had space to play and stretch their legs after sitting for an hour in church and the yard was filled with the shouts from their games. The adults lingered around the yard in various little circles, nursing freshly squeezed orange juice in spring-themed clear plastic cups and talking amongst themselves.

Daniel did a lot of listening during Sunday brunches, standing amidst one of the groups of parents as they talked about school, clubs, and work. Marigold was always the chatty one of the two of them…without her, Daniel felt out of place.

“What about you, Daniel? Think the frost will be gone to break ground this week?”

Jack spoke first, a shorter man with unruly brown hair and enough tattoos to surprise anyone with the fact that he raised an apple orchard. He owned the farm beside Daniel’s and was one of his closest friends in the town.

Daniel thought for a moment and scuffed the toe of his dress shoe against the grass. The cold ground was still pretty solid and the chill in the air still had them all wearing blazers over their Sunday button-ups.

“Only if this cold front lets up.” Daniel answered. “I’m hoping to plough by next week at the latest.”

“Everything’s been going well with the farm and your boy?” Jonah asked, his hand tucked around his wife’s waist and he raised his opposite hand to his mouth to sip his juice.

Daniel shifted on his feet and gave a shrug, his eyes drifting past the group of parents to easily pick out his shaggy haired brunette son across the yard with the rest of the kids. At almost eight-years-old, Lennox was the light of Daniel’s life; his little hockey star, helping hand, and the one whom his late wife’s smile and spirit lived on in. It had been a hard year-and-a-half for the two Seavey boys but Daniel was relived that he could hear his son laugh again, his audible glee reaching to the far edges of the mayor’s property and to his father’s ears.  

“It’s been…fine.” Daniel sighed, his eyes lingering on his son as he answered Jonah’s question, “Lennox has been doing well…his grades are better this year which I’m relieved about. I just…I already sold the sheep and half the chickens and the second cow last spring to try and tame some of the workload but it’s still a lot.”

“Running a farm on your own isn’t easy.” Jack said, “I know how much work it takes for two owners let alone one.”

“We’re here to help with whatever you need.” Corbyn assured him. “I can give you deals on whatever you need from the shop as often as I can.”

Corbyn owned the general store in the center of town and was the bachelor of Lincoln. It wasn’t like there were any women to date in such a small place full of cookie cutter rural families but Corbyn was very happy as he was: running the store and being the eyes and ears of the town.

Daniel shut down his generous offer politely as he looked back to his friends, “No, no. I don’t want that…thank you though. I’m just worried the garden will suffer. With so much to do with ploughing and planting and coaching…I don’t know how much time I’ll have for the flowers.” Daniel let his gaze drift back to his son playing across the grass, “Lennox is too young to tend to them himself but he loves the gardens so much so I don’t want yet another thing to disappoint him.”

“Have you thought of hiring someone?” Jonah asked.

“Like a gardener?” Daniel hummed, “I dunno.”

Corbyn sipped his drink, “Is it in the budget?”

“I think so.” Daniel shrugged, swirling his orange juice in his hand. “Never thought about it. Mari always took care of the flowers so…”

“I have a family friend who’s pretty good with gardens…I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help out.” Jocelyn offered.

Daniel chuckled under his breath, “That’s…a nice offer but I’m not looking to put anyone out of their way. They’re just flowers after all.”

But everyone knew that they weren’t just flowers to Daniel. They were Marigold’s flowers.

Jack tisked at Daniel’s hesitation, “Well if it’s in your budget to hire a gardener and you know the gardens are important to Lennox and yourself, then why not give it a try? You don’t have anything to lose.”

Jonah only added onto the argument, “She’s been wanting to come visit Lincoln for a while now. Why don’t we invite her to town and she can stay with us and you can give her a look over…if you think you want to hire her then you can.”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of his juice as his eyes found his son again. It was habit. Lennox was already running for him at top speed across the grass and Daniel set his cup down on the table just in time to welcome his seven-year-old’s energetic jump at him. He scooped him up with one arm and a tired grunt as he hiked him up onto his waist and Lennox held onto him around his neck, giggling as the other kids ran over after him.

“Daddy’s safe. You can’t get me.” Lennox told them matter-of-factly.

Daniel smiled proudly and linked his hands under his son’s bum to hold him up securely. At almost eight, Lennox was a bit heavy to hold but after nine years of farm work and working out for hockey, it wasn’t much of an issue for Daniel to hold him. He’d never complain regardless.

The other kids found their parents, gladly taking sips of juice or pieces of cut up fruit after a tiring chase around the yard. Jonah and Jocelyn’s seven-year-old twins found their way between them and helped themselves to the few snacks on the table. They were the closest to Lennox’s age – although a few months younger – and the boy of the set of fraternal twins was on the junior hockey team with him.

With the parents busy for a moment with their children – Jack was helping to fasten his daughter’s curly hair back in her headband – Daniel pondered the previous offer. His son rested his head against his with his small arms slung around his neck and Daniel could feel each of his gentle breaths rising and falling his chest. Everything Daniel did was for Lennox. He bit his lip.

“No rush.” Jocelyn said to him, reassuring their offer as if she could see his hesitation, “Just let us know.”

“Thank you.” Daniel said honestly.

“The Herron’s are coming over.” Corbyn whispered to the group and right away they shifted awkwardly as the family approached. Daniel let out an anticipatory sigh.

If you ever thought of jealousy, you would think of Zach Herron; father of two boys who weren’t very good at hockey and husband to a wife whose eyes liked to linger on Daniel’s biceps a little too much. Zach envied a lot of Daniel…maybe even envied him that his wife was dead. He would never admit that out loud though.

“Seavey.” Zach greeted as his family approached the group with his petite platinum blonde wife on his arm. He glanced around to the others, “And friends.”

There was a dull chorus of replies.

Zach continued, “I’m still willing to buy your horses off you. You know I have a generous price to offer.” 

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Yes, I know. But the horses are not for sale and they never will be.”

“Daniel would sell his house before he sells those horses.” Jack said. The group laughed lightly at the truth behind that. 

Lennox wiggled from Daniel’s arms and he set him down to join up with the two Herron boys who had just come over. The children gathered together at the other side of the table and chatted excitedly. Daniel picked up his orange juice.

“Daniel,” Zach’s wife set a hand on his bicep, her face filled with nothing but dramatic concern, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing fine, Katie, thank you.” Daniel replied politely.

She sighed, “It would just be a terrible shame to see your beautiful gardens go to waste; I overheard you talking about it from over there. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

Zach’s annoyed scoff had Jack smirking into his orange juice. Corbyn and Jonah exchanged amused glances between themselves. Daniel offered Zach’s wife a small polite smile.

“That’s very nice of you to offer, but Jonah and Jocelyn already offered a family friend who’s in the business.” Daniel looked over at the couple again, with slight thankfulness in his eyes, “And I think I will gladly take them up on that recommendation.”

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 48

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.

But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.

Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings. 

That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.

Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13. 

Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil  - the bathroom. 

There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.

The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.

"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched. 

"No, I meant-"

"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."

"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.

"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."

"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"

Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath. 

Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"

"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."

Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.

"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"

"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.

Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams. 

"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"

Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."

The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side. 

"You got a dead owl…?"

"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows. 

"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.

Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.

"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.

"To the largest casino on the Moon."

"Wait- There are casinos up there?"

"Not for kids your age," Loki said.

Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."

"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."

Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his. 

The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.

"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.

"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.

"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."

"You could go blond," Peter suggested.

"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."

Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.

"...what have I done?"

You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."

*

"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"

The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.

Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.

Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.

Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.

"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.

Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.

Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage. 

"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"

Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck. 

The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.

"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself. 

He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.

The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.

And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered. 

Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.

There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing. 

There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form. 

The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.

Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.

"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner. 

"She's got the pin."

One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom. 

"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.

Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…

Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked. 

The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true. 

He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom. 

Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.

His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.

[cordeliaflyte]

Would love to know your thoughts on the rutger bregman book when you finish it!!!

dearest merle! it took me months to answer this ask - something i'm ashamed of - but i finally got around to finishing the book today.

the below is a condensed version of the ten pages of notes i took while reading it, which are rather chaotic and repetitive at points - but in my defence, bregman repeated his own arguments too.

one of the main arguments that bregman makes is that "evil" or "immorality" - which we'll define as causing unnecessary harm - are rarely caused by the individual, but rather the society they live in. i agree - nothing exists in a vacuum. however, society, as a nebulous concept, isn't imposed on us by some imperceptible power - it is crafted by people. people in society have different levels of power, and the harm they can cause to others is directly proportional to said power - but be it on a micro or macro scale, our actions have an impact on others and while they are influenced by the society we live in, we must nonetheless strive to minimise the harm we cause - and few of us do.

bregman illustrates many of his arguments with heartwarming stories about people coming together in times of crisis - take, for example, natural disasters - and overcoming adversity, selflessly looking out for their neighbours. but crisis very often leads to the creation of divisions, an us vs them mentality, and a complete disregard for the safety of others. the current pandemic is a prime example - see the widening of class differences, the rise in racist hate crimes, and people refusing to take safety precautions because they are inconvenient to them.

another argument repeated quite often throughout the book is the fact that media cherry-picks the most sensationalistic and senseless acts of death and despair, because human suffering is simply more interesting that the mundane - people talking to friends, creating art, laughing and learning. again, i agree with him - many of the more tabloid-adjacent news outlets would have you believe that the everyday norm is dismembered heiresses being found on riverbeds and charming, precocious children being held for ransom in tiny basements. the news doesn't often focus on the mundane - but the mundane isn't just love and work and friendship and boredom and chores, it is also, for billions of people around the world, sexual violence, familial abuse, workplace and housing discrimination, etc. these things aren't sensationalistic either - they're frightfully common, frightfully boring, and thus, they're rarely reported on.

throughout his book, bregman mentions that when he told people what he was working on, they approached the idea that humans are good with a large dose of cynicism, simply because we are raised to believe humans are selfish (which isn't the case worldwide, not all cultures are individualistic). they pick the easier choice - accepting the image of the world and their fellow humans that they are presented with at face value. i'd argue that it is the tendency of humans to pick the easier choice, to obey, to avoid challenging their worldview that leads to - for a lack of better term - immorality (see definition in point 1).

often, when bregman presents his feel good stories about people cooperating in adversity, he also mentions troubling details that, again, show undue harm being done. one of the examples he used were six boys from tonga, aged 13 to 16, who were shipwrecked on an island, and instead of descending into a "lord of the flies" style madness, they built their small community on the basis of communication and cooperation, never resorting to violence, and acting mature beyond their years. after a year spent on the island, they were rescued - and promptly arrested, an event which was probably racially motivated. and the reason they were shipwrecked in the first place was attempting to flee their school, where, according to their reports, they were neglected.

bregman contrasted the example of the boys forming a peaceful society on a small island with the chaos that always ensues when adults in reality shows are put in similar situations. the contestants are pitted against each other by the show runners, who seek to frustrate them and make them lose control for the amusement of the audience. whenever contestants try to cooperate, form a mutually beneficial society for a short while - a radical idea - they are punished. "goodness" - i.e. harm reduction - and radical thought being punished just don't seem like particularly helpful examples for the "humans are inherently good" thesis

bregman seems to be a big fan of primitivism, constantly citing civilisation as a source of harm - a position i'm always sceptical about, because personally i love vaccines and dental care, but i know this is a knee-jerk reaction and bregman isn't plotting a return to a land without dentists. but what i do take ire at is the idea that humans are somehow "corrupt" versions of their natural selves and that our lives have grown too complicated, and only a return to "primitive" society can return us to the aforementioned natural selves.

tied to the previous point - his arguments remind me of the "noble savage"'... archetype? he seems to paint a picture of "primitive" indigenous people as role models for those "corrupted" by civilisation, who in turn must be saved by a return to their "purer" selves, instead of individuals with flaws and agency.

speaking on indigenous populations - bregman also invokes the inhabitants of the easter islands. for a long time, the world at large believed that a hundred years or so before colonization, the islanders effectively perpetrated a genocide, killing off a large proportion of their population - a claim which was later disproven. yay! humans can live in peaceful societies without committing genocide, and thus, are not inherently evil! disregarding the fact that european colonists later massacred a large part of the islands population, and sold most of the survivors into slavery?

i was very excited for one of the chapters, entitled "after auchschwitz". i was interested how bregman would reconcile his argument with the tragedies of the twentieth century - the holocaust, but also genocide, and to a lesser extent war in general.

(this chapter, i might add, was preceded by a quote by anne frank - you know the one, about the inherent goodness of people. i was hoping that bregman would comment on the fact that anne wrote the quote before she and her family were sent to a concentration camp)

so you can imagine my surprise when the chapter was not, in fact, about concentration camps or genocide. but rather about. unethical 70s sociological experiments.

no really! a chapter titled "after auchschwitz" was, in fact, primarily about the stanford prison experiment. an experiment that was, granted, inspired by concentration camps, but still. it's misleading to invoke "real", large scale violence, and focus instead on "simulated", small scale violence.

we all know that the stanford prison experiment was, as far as experiments go, rubbish to legendary degrees. it doesn't prove anything - but it does, perhaps, show that people under large psychological duress are capable of evil, even when they themselves are not "evil".

it is, i'd argue, the human tendency to obey authority and especially to conform to societies standards that poses the largest danger. disobedience is man's original virtue and whatnot.

and when he does briefly refer to concentration camps, bregman treats them like a very 1940s phenomenon, disregarding the fact that they have been around for much longer and still exist today.

in cases like that one experiment with electric shocks. you know the one. do not, perhaps, show an innate tendency to violence, but rather people succumbing to pressure. but history is full of unprovoked instances of violence, of pogroms and lynchings. there is usually an instigator, yes, but judging from reports, people in the right mindset don't need much persuading to butcher other people.

also re: electric shock experiment - those who thought they gave the assistant lethal shocks showed extreme guilt and some even cried but like... so what? what use is a conscience if it doesn't stop you from, to your knowledge, killing someone? are your feelings really more important than your actions?

he doesn't say this, but a lot of the arguments he presents do seem to boil down to "people aren't evil, they're just stupid!" which doesn't sound more encouraging, i'm afraid.

an alternative takeaway would be "people are good, unless they have power" - which isn't exactly a radical, revolutionary idea. most people have heard the maxim "power corrupts". but the thing is that almost everyone holds some amount power over others - the oppressed factory worker in a poor nation who works 12 hours a day for pittance might still execute power over his wife, who relies on him for money, and she in turn might hold power over her children, and so forth. and that power is often used to cause undue harm and exercise control.

he criticises machiavellianism, saying it doesn't reflect how society works, and one of his proofs is that his philosophies were espoused by bismarck, churchill, and stalin - hardly admirable figures in terms of (you guessed it!) causing harm. but i don't see how that discredits machiavelli? like all of the above were very succesful

and he keeps repeating the primitivism argument throughout the book which gets tiring. like i'm truly sorry you were born in the last 5% of human existence thus far when, in your opinion, humanity started going to the shits, but it's getting a bit tiring

he cites money and nations as concepts as harbingers of the current (negative) state of humanity, saying they're very recent concepts and have no basis in reality. they're artificial concepts, sure, but their effect is very much real, and while achieving a nation-less, money-less society is possible on a small scale, i think that at this point they are such large aspects of life that reigning them in seems impossible.

and invokes the noble savage again and again, showing himself in favour of tribal societies, depicting them as egalitarian - i'm sure many of them are, but many also have a strict hierarchy or like. practice fgm. once more he seems to treat tribal people as a monolith of goodness as opposed to... people.

he also cites prehistoric people, their egalitarianism and low rates of violence but. forgive me for my ignorance because i did not research this. how do people know. doesn't the definition of prehistory include a lack of records??

he also mentions that in small, tribal societies, conformism can be a good thing, as it makes people act for the communal good. this is another knee-jerk reaction of mine but i think of conformism as society's most significant vice, so this strikes very much against my beliefs

later on, he also says reproduction is another proof of humanities goodness. perhaps it's a controversial opinion, but i disagree. i find it hard to find reasons for reproduction that aren't egoistic. it's survival instinct, sure, but it's not an "inherently noble pursuit".

later yet, he brings up schools which grant large degrees of freedom to students and shows how they're good for developing their minds. this might be a me thing but i know from experience that when i'm granted freedom without structure, i do nothing - though perhaps that speaks ill of me, and not humanity.

there have, in fact, been many studies on schools like this being helpful to student development and i certainly won't argue with them - but let me nit-pick. bregman says that fewer students have adhd in these schools, as it is a condition caused by being locked inside a room all day which is not only offensive, but also just plain wrong

and also while showing how granting children freedom lets them develop (which i naturally agree with) he brings up that "dangerous playground" study. you know the one. this isn't a coherent argument, this is just my bias speaking , but as a child, i promise i had no desire to play with rusty nails in abandoned warehouses. i liked my boring playgrounds with wooden swings.

then there is a chapter on communism and how it could be a remedy to societies ailments. but bregman and i seem to operate on very different definitions of communism. he naturally starts with saying maoist china and stalinist russia and cambodia under pol pot weren't really communist which... sure, if you want to argue semantics, i'm all for it, but it's an old and essentially useless argument. if "real communism" has never been tried (as the author claims) - why?

and then we pass to perhaps the most bizarre fragment of the book. paraphrasing only slightly: "but why are we now so opposed to the word communism? when we pass each other salt at the dinner table, is that not communism? when we selflessly hold a door open for someone, is that not communism?" i.... no?? no it's not. that's not what communism is girl stop

he then also says facebook is actually communist in many ways since a lot of its value comes from photos people willingly share for free. i could not make this up if i tried.

i think that in most terms i agree with bregman on policy - direct democracy, school and prison systems, changes to the criminal justice system - and our reasoning is partially similar, but i don't think the information we both have access to proves that humans are inherently good.

and then come perhaps my least favourite arguments because i for one am a spiteful bitch but yes. it is time for christian ethics 101 and turning the other cheek.

he cites ghandi and mlk as examples of turning the other cheek working. i think ghandi went too far with his policy, what with saying "jews ought to have marched silently to their deaths or committed mass suicide to make nazis feel ashamed" and like. we do remember they killed mlk, right?

as an example of turning the other cheek, he cites humane prisons in norway, where prisoners are granted much larger freedoms than usual and are on equal footing with the guards, who aren't armed and act more as councillors. i don't really see how this is an example of turning the other cheek, though - the guards are not the victims of the inmates (it was a prison for violent offenders - many of them murderers). i agree with him that prisons, if they must exist, should treat inmates humanely and with respect, but i don't see how this relates to the turning of the cheek. statistically, many of these men probably murdered their mates in a drunken dispute, or killed their wives - and i don't think turning the other cheek would have helped their victims.

he also cites south africa in the sixties as an example of turning the other cheek, when anti-apartheid activists would meet up with pro-apartheid activists and talk - this included nelson mandela who had frequent talks with the leader of a white supremacist paramilitary organisation of afrikaners staunchly opposed to black south africans getting the vote. and it worked - the man, whose aim was starting a civil war, relented. but racism isn't a simple matter that can simply be solved by talking. and it is often a pragmatic policy which i don't disparage, but turning the other cheek and having to treat someone who refuses to acknowledge your humanity with an exorbitantly disproportionate amount of respect is inherently degrading.

skipping ahead, in the epilogue bregman lists ten rules he tries to live by, and one of them is, i shit you not, "don't punch nazis". and punching nazis doesn't stop them from being nazis, but turning the other cheek gets people killed

the rise of fascism is perhaps one the largest threats we are dealing with and fascists are not just isolated and misinformed (and in this day and age, ignorance is a choice). they are dangerous.

this is by no means an essay or an exhaustive list, just a slightly chaotic and much overdue collection of opinions which i don't know how to put under a read more. take care <3

[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x Reader) Intro

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

intro | the unexpected  ↪

Everybody loves the things you do.

You can't exactly recall the moment that everything seemed to change or rather, fall apart. Well, if you were going to be honest, you expected everything to fall apart sooner rather than later but there you were, watching him get cheered on in the middle of the school grounds of Inarizaki High. Why? Well, the girl he apparently had a crush on had been eating out his face as if her life depended on it. It crushed you.

What did you expect? The two of you were never official, nor did he ever hinted at the idea of the two of you becoming official. This is what you should have expected, right? He was never yours, to begin with, you were just a friend he occasionally fucked with on the side to relieve his stress, no big deal.

So, why had the scene in front of you, broke your heart?

Right, maybe because of the fact that your best friend since you were eight years old, Miya Atsumu, has owned your heart for as long as you can remember.

  Everybody here is watching you.

You watched as the two broke apart, with eat-shitting grins plastering their perfectly shaped faces. The cheers that erupted within the vicinity were almost deafening. What hurts the most was that your best friend, your little 'ol fuck buddy, searched the crowd and his eyes locked with your own. There wasn't any sign of regret, it was as if he was silently communicating with you to accept that whatever the two of you had in secret, would inevitably end, however, you pretty much puzzled that out already, the sight you had witnessed indicated the obvious, you didn’t need it to be spelt out for you. It took every bit of you not to spin around and walk away from the man that had broken your heart into bits and pieces, but the friend in you couldn't seem to do such a thing, instead, you tried your best to flash him an encouraging smile.

Yes, Miya Atsumu had broken your little pathetic heart.

You're like a dream come true.

You recalled the first time you had met Miya Atsumu. You had just moved in next door from Kanagawa. You had been dejected of the move, reluctant to help your parents settle down. You had been forced to leave your friends and every little thing that mattered to you. Honestly, you were ridiculous at the time. You were practically eight years old, and you were already moaning about how your life had already ended for leaving your friends behind.

That is until the Miya Atsumu introduced himself to you with his cheeky little smile.

"Hi!" he greeted in a yell like manner causing you to shriek and spin around to face the intruder, warmth spreading across your cheeks in embarrassment, "My mom told me we have new neighbours and to bring this over. I'm Miya Atsumu, but you can call me Atsumu because it might confuse you since I have a twin. His name's Osamu!"

You flickered your gaze shyly over to the identical boy standing beside him looking uninterested. He sighed, "I can introduce myself you know,"

The boy you have come to know as Atsumu ignored his retort before handing over the small tray in his hands, "It's my mom's speciality, beef stew. It's one of my favourites. Oh by the way, what's your name?"

You blinked as you slowly grabbed the tray from his grasp as you mumbled your name underneath your breath. You felt your cheeks grow warmer as he repeated your name with a wide grin plastered on his face.

You didn't even know what was so memorable of how you met the Miya twins, or more importantly, how you met the rather annoying Atsumu, that you had somehow miraculously learned what the word 'crush' meant. It wasn't as if it was the first time you had been friends with the opposite sex. Before moving to Hyōgo, majority of your friends from elementary school in Kanagawa were boys, so how did you end up liking the now blonde twin?

It was life's many mysteries. However, what you had witnessed made you wish that you had fallen for the other twin instead, who had been looking at you with sympathy in his eyes as soon as he spotted you. You simply shook your head, smiling sadly. Osamu, bless the caring twin, had always known of your feelings for his brother and somehow figured out the arrangement the two of you shared upon entering Second Year in Senior High School. He expressed a few times for you to reveal your feelings, but you pushed it to the very back of your mind. You didn't know if Atsumu was completely oblivious to your blunt feelings or that he probably lacked some very important brain cells. You had thought he just didn't want to acknowledge it and pushed it aside, but what had pushed the two of you to have such an arrangement in the first place?

You somehow wished it never happened in the first place.

You look like a movie, You sound like a song.

Warmth.

It was the only word in your intoxicated mind that you could find during the first time his lips wandered delicately across your skin as if it were a map, the way his lips brushed against your skin marked that he had successfully visited places that night. You didn't know how two friends who were teasing each other about how the other hadn't been intimate with their past lovers escalated into that, but the passion burning through you at the time, feeling his hands and lips against places that were supposed to be forbidden for a man that you shared no intimate relationship with were enough to fight back the protests that were bubbling in your mind. It was intoxicating. It was warm. It was Atsumu.

If you were to lose your virginity, who would be better than your best friend himself, right? Wrong.

When you think about it, despite the lovely idea of losing each other's virginity to each other as best friends, it was only because you had been madly in love with Atsumu, thinking that when it was over, he would finally man up and take a step forward with whatever the two of you had, and the two of you were to be finally happy together. Of course, your love for your best friend won over and you were forced to accept your faith that it meant little to him than it did to you.

Despite Atsumu not returning your feelings after the whole thing, you tried your best to put on a smile and be there for your friend, no matter how painful it was. You hadn't expected it of course, when a particularly stressful day for Atsumu would lead to the arrangement of you being the one to release his stress during your second years. You kept your feelings locked away in a chest and hid the key, you didn't want to complain.

Fear had crept its way into the very front of your mind, constantly eating you out, day and night. To complain and push Atsumu away to put your feelings first, only meant you'd lose him. It was inevitable, you decided then. The two of you shared such intimacy more ways than one and somehow reverting it to the way it was before deemed impossible.

You couldn't bear the thought of losing Atsumu. Not as a secret lover, but as a best friend. You didn't want to admit it, but he was the only one you had left. Sure you had other friends, but Atsumu was your partner in crime. From the moment you met him, to before the two of you shared such reckless intimacy, he had been your rock. Sure, there were things you weren't willing to confide with him due to personal reasons, but he was there. Ever since your father had passed away, things were rocky with your mother. Your relationship with your mother had worsened throughout the years after your father's passing, and not even Atsumu knows the extent of it. You couldn't bring yourself to express such, you didn't want anyone's pity. You just needed Atsumu's warmth, whether it was intimate or not.

You can't help but admit at how pathetic you've become for someone who didn't reciprocate such feelings, but what were you to do?

Let me photograph you in this light, in case it is the last time.

As you stood there, you felt hopeless. It seemed as if the cheers surrounding you failed to cease. It was as if it grew louder, almost taunting you.

You didn't want to ruin the moment though. They seemed perfect for each other, too perfect together. Happy in their little world with their friends surrounding them—cheering, congratulating, teasing the new happy couple, and you stood there, outside of their inner circle, pathetically. You kept your gaze on Atsumu as if to devour his features, afraid that your mind might have suddenly decided to erase him.

You caught Osamu from the corner of your eye, his twitching not so subtle. His body language screamed of wanting to comfort you but all you could do was shake your head to prevent such action. You didn't want to feel any more pathetic than you already did.

After another painful second to capture his features, you spun around facing the school's gate, heart-clenching as tears now slowly formed in the corners of your eyes. You wanted to scream. You wanted to break down there and then. You felt sick.

"Hey!" You heard him call out and you didn't think your heart could handle another but it felt as if he squeezed your heart once again, "Where you going? We have class soon."

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat, your shoulders grew tense at the feeling of his close proximity. His familiar scent instantly engulfed you but what bothered you the most that it was mixed with a scent you're unfamiliar with. You didn't have to turn to look for its identity, you knew she was standing next to him, clung to his arm as if her life depended on it, afraid Atsumu would be snatched away from her. You couldn’t blame her, you would have done the same if you could. "I–I don't feel so good. I'm going to skip." You stuttered, letting out a laugh to cover up your constricted voice.

"Oh. Well," you heard her speak as if she was part of the conversation, "Let's leave her be, 'sumu."

He agreed almost instantly, "Right. You get home safe, yeah? Get better soon."

You heard their footsteps retreat and your heart taking a final blow and completely shattering to the ground. He didn't even bother to wait for a reply. Without looking back, you left the school premises. You left without saying goodbye.

It was just like a movie. It was just like a song.

The nauseating air wrapped tightly around you, almost making it difficult to breathe. When you had walked home, you let the tears flow almost instantly, not bothering to give an ounce of attention to the people who had looked towards your direction in pity or as if you had grown two heads the past hour. You were grateful that your mother and her new boyfriend had not been around at the time of your early return, not like she would care for your tears or how you had skipped school.

It was now or never, you had thought to yourself as you stared at the packed luggage on your bed. Earlier during the day, you hadn't exactly planned this. Running away from your problems seemed almost too cliche for you at the time. Scared to the bone, you still opted to approach your best friend about your predicament. However, as you entered the school grounds, well—it was obviously a sight you were not exactly expecting nor was it pleasant for you to witness, something you wish that could be erased from your mind completely.

The idea spilling the truth to Atsumu had been instantly tossed to the nearest bin. You didn't know if it was just your emotions deciding but you knew it was for the best. You couldn't stay here. Not anymore. Your mother would most certainly throw you out as soon as she had found out, not like it had been home to you in a long time.

So as you entered the empty house you once thought that radiated comfort and warmth, you decided it was best to disappear. A lot of factors that resulted in this decision piled up one by one as soon as you woke up for the day. And what was the root of it all?

Two pink lines.

That was six years ago.

[shaalk]

Bored

Type: Oneshot

Characters: Jongin X Reader

Genre: Smut, Boyfriend AU

Warnings: Unprotected sex, Mentions of wanting to get caught while having sex, Cumshot

Status: Completed

Summary: In which Jongin tries his best to liven up a boring and repetitive afternoon.

Words: 1887

Tags: @christiandosworld​​ @writingstuffandmore​

My aunty is a natural born entertainer. By that, I don’t mean the kind that acts or sings for their fans. I'm talking about the type that loves having people over at their place often. 

So, it really isn’t a surprise to me when she plans a barbecue session on a random Sunday afternoon. The guests are always the same. A few relatives, some of her neighbours and my boyfriend.

Jongin is always invited to such gatherings because my family has been extremely attached to him since he and I got together. Despite his exceptionally good looks that might make him come off as haughty and play-boyish sometimes, he is the total opposite. He is down-to-earth, bubbly and kind. If the older relatives need help, he is always there like superman, and if my young cousins or nephews and nieces need someone to play with, he always volunteers. 

Overall, my family finds him a fun person to be around and have been pestering me to get married to him. He is present a lot, so much so that everyone practically considers him family already. If I am at an event, there is a high chance that Jongin is glued to me by my hip. We almost, if not always, come as a set.

The party is underway and since I see all the visitors at least 3 to 4 times a month, I stick by Jongin’s side, just like I do at all the other parties my aunty has organised before. 

While almost all the guests are out in the backyard, eating and chatting animatedly like they haven’t seen each other in ages when they probably just met the week before, Jongin and I, along with a few usual guests, are hanging out in the living room.

We’re watching a re-run of a sappy romance drama that I have already seen before, so I am just leaning against Jongin’s body, eyes unfocused and drooping. My boyfriend has an arm over my shoulder, his fingers mindlessly playing with my hair, practically lulling me to sleep.

I sigh softly causing Jongin to turn around and look at me, his lips almost imprinting themselves on my forehead from how close he is seated to me. 

“Bored?” 

I pout and nod. 

He wrinkles his button nose cutely and smirks at me mischievously. He removes his arm from around my shoulders, gets up from the couch and pulls me up with him. 

The other guests' eyes flickers to us to observe what we are up to and then go back to concentrating on the drama before them almost immediately.

“Where are we going?”

“Just come with me.” 

Jongin drags me up the flight of stairs and into the bathroom at the end of the corridor. Once in, he turns around and busies himself with locking the door while I stand there listlessly. I study his broad back with raised brows because what the heck can we possibly do in the toilet that would alleviate my boredom? 

But I don’t have to ponder for long because when Jongin turns around to face me, his eyes are dark and dilated. I gulp and my tongue darts out to moisten my dry lips, already knowing what is in store for me.

Jongin saunters towards me like a hyena while I inch backwards like a docile prey until the back of my thighs hit the sink counter. The male darts forward and plants both his hands beside my body, caging me.

I grin toothily when Jongin leans into me, making him kiss my bared teeth. The 6 feet tall male starts whining and bouncing on the balls of his feet. I quickly let him have his way to shut him up, lest we both get caught and have people asking us what on earth we are doing in the bathroom together. 

Yes the bathroom is at the end of the corridor but it isn’t soundproof and I just can’t risk it.

Jongin hums into the kiss, glad that I have given in to him. His hands snake their way around my waist to lift me up and plop me onto the counter. 

My legs immediately wrap themselves around his slender waist, pulling him impossibly closer to me. His growing crotch is brushing directly against the wet spot on my panties since I am wearing a short summer dress that has ridden up. 

I moan into the kiss as Jongin rubs himself against my heat. His palms travel up to knead my smooth, bare thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

I pull away from the kiss first, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Jongin’s lips are red and swollen, mirroring my own. 

"You won't be needing this." 

My boyfriend grins excitedly as he reaches under my dress to pull my thong off. I lift my hips to assist him and then I busy myself with unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans and boxers till his mid-thigh, just enough for his erect member to peek out. 

Jongin shoves my underwear in his back pocket and strokes his cock to get it harder and ready. His other hand comes up to run down the length of my wet folds, checking how ready I am for his onslaught. 

He licks his juicy lips in appreciation when he feels my warm liquids coating his digit. He sucks on the damp finger and then nudges my shoulder so that I am leaning back, my weight on my palms and my butt hanging off the counter. 

Jongin grasps my legs and hangs them over the crook of his arms. He glances at me for confirmation and as soon as I nod, he beams like a child who has just gotten candy. 

The male presses the bulbous head of his cock against my slit and inches himself into me slowly, my tight walls immediately hugging onto his girth like they have missed him. 

I throw my head back, hitting the mirror behind me in the process. Jongin draws out only to push back into me immediately. He is careful not to slam into me too hard because any loud noises can attract unwanted attention from the guests downstairs. 

Still, the force of his hips gyrating into mine is enough to rattle all the bottles of soap and lotion on the sink counter I am almost splayed out on. 

Jongin continues thrusting into me leisurely. The only sounds in the bathroom are our heavy panting and the significant squelch of my pussy every time he moves in and out of me. 

There is a small window beside us that overlooks the backyard and if I crane my neck enough, from where we are positioned, I can see the guests mingling around with each other. 

When the laughter noises from outside float up, the magnitude of how quickly and easily we can get discovered hits me. If someone decides to just look up a little, we would get caught and that makes my stomach tighten. The thought of doing something so indecent and risky with Jongin behind closed doors while my family and relatives are only a few feet away turns me on to no extent.

Jongin notices that I am not paying attention to him so he licks the tip of his finger and fondles my bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. 

My head immediately flies to focus on him, neck almost cracking in the process. I am letting out hurried pants already and if Jongin continues playing with my clit like that, I won’t be able to keep my noises at bay. 

I grab his hand, trying to make him stop his ministrations but he is far too strong for me.

I am letting out soft pants and they just sound too loud in the quiet bathroom so Jongin presses his other hand against my mouth to muffle my noises as he shushes me. 

I close my eyes, just savouring the feeling of being filled to the hilt by the man I love most in the world. He is going slow enough that I can feel every vein and ridge of his penis.

All of a sudden, Jongin gives me a particularly hard thrust. My eyes widen and I perk up immediately. Despite his hand over my mouth, I still feel that I am being too loud. 

So I sit myself up, evidently removing Jongin’s hand that is over my mouth, and encircle my arms around his shoulders, dragging him into my embrace. I shove my face into the crook of his neck and nibble on his shoulder. Jongin’s arm that is still between my legs continues toying with my clit while the free one grabs my ass, piercing fingernails into the soft flesh.

With the change of angle, Jongin is hitting me right at my sweet spot. I wrap my legs around his torso, pressing the heels of my feet into his firm butt, urging him to make me cum already.

The tell-tale sign of my orgasm approaching comes, a hard tug at the pits of my belly. My mouth parts in a soundless scream when my high crashes over me, my lower body quivering on its own accord. Jongin removes his finger from my abused clit, not wanting to overstimulate me because I definitely will scream and blow our cover if he continues that action.

Once I stop gushing over him, Jongin pulls out of me to start pumping his member. I tap my swollen clit softly at the view of my boyfriend jerking himself off in front of me, prolonging my orgasm. 

The male groans lowly when the first spurt of his cum shoots out and lands on my inner thigh. My hand glides lower to spread open my pussy lips so that Jongin can shoot his hot load all over my folds. I use his cream as lubricant to continue playing with my clit until the last wave of pleasure runs through my bones and then I slump back to rest against the mirror. 

Jongin slouches forward, resting his head on my protruding collarbone. This is by far the quickest and quietest session we have ever had but also the most intense at that. We are both heaving, sweat matting our hair to our foreheads.

We take a moment to regulate our breathing and then decide to start cleaning ourselves up. We have been away from the crowd for quite a while and I am worried someone will be suspicious of our disappearance. 

Jongin helps me slip on my thong even though my lower region is still painted with his cum. He then lifts me off the counter and places me back down on my feet. I am all smiles as I comb Jongin’s hair to make him look more presentable while he does the same to mine. 

I am practically glowing from the aftermath of our intense session.

"Still bored?"

I shake my head blissfully. 

Jongin is radiating with glee as well when he leans in to press a kiss on the apple of my cheek. I intertwine my fingers with my boyfriend's before I yank him back downstairs so that we can join my family in the backyard, all the while feeling his sticky cum in between my legs.

A/N: Let me know what you think! Please drop a comment :)

[gstqaobc]

FROM THE MONARCHIST LEAGUE OF CANADA

As this Ecomm went to publication, we received word of the death, at the great age of 96, of Bill Silver, a significant benefactor of the League from its early days, and for many years a pillar of our Ottawa Branch.  We wished to remember him here: his ebullient spirit, fierce loyalty spoken gently, innate modesty and kindness.  Indeed Chaucer might have had forethought of Bill in describing one of his characters as a “very parfitt gentle knight.” May his ardent spirit rest in peace, and his memory be a blessing and example to us all.   LEAGUE ISSUES NEW FLYER: THE CASE FOR THE CROWN The League thought it timely and useful to issue, offer in its advertising and distribute as widely as possible - both via the website and in printed form - a new flyer which will give you, our members, ammunition to argue logically the case for the Crown in conversation with others, and, we hope, to distribute strategically. One never knows when such an item, left on a waiting room table at the doctor or dentist’s office, affixed to a supermarket or other community bulletin board, put through neighbours’ mail slots - the possibilities are many - will do good work for our cause. We hope you will both enjoy and profit from this item, and that many thousands will be distributed across the country. See item one in the WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? section of this Ecomm, below, to read online and request printed copies.   And special thanks to our wonderful team of no less than seven translators, all francophones from La Belle Province, who so kindly volunteered to make the French version one that is accurate in expression and eloquent in its prose.                     WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? Some suggestions for member activity during these times. We invite members to send additional ideas by return of email. 1.    How about asking the League to send you several print copies of our new flyer:  THE CASE FOR THE CROWN, or print them on your home computer:  https://www.monarchist.ca/index.php/publications and give them to others who may be unaware or sceptical of the importance of Canada’s constitutional monarchy, or even hostile to it. School teachers could be encouraged to read the League’s educational booklets, also available both online and in print at the same URL, or even to request a class set.   2.    When you read an editorial, opinion column or letter to the editor in a newspaper, or a tweet or Facebook post, critical of the Crown, don’t get mad - get even! In other words, use a temperate tone and logical argument to refute the writer’s attack.  Keep it brief: focus on the obvious flaws in reasoning, mis-statements of fact or name-calling substituting for logic.  Same goes for radio talk shows. In the long run, on all media, whatever the provocation, whatever the momentary satisfaction of ”giving them a piece of my mind” - an old adage remains true: “You catch more flies with honey.” 3.    Write your elected representative at the federal level to re-state briefly the reasons you support constitutional monarchy as our system of government,  and asking the MP whether not your view is shared. 4.    Once pandemic restrictions ease, try to make sure that Royal events - such as the upcoming 95th birthday of our Queen, 10th Wedding Anniversary of William and Catherine or 100th birthday of Prince Philip are celebrated both in your home but also among your wider family, your friends, your colleagues at the office,  your place of worship/faith community or service club. The League generally sends you some ideas to mark these celebrations. Remember, as they are incorporated into family life and public life, the     Crown becomes further embedded in the heart of the nation, and truly represents The Queen’s wish that it ”reflects all that is best and most admired in the Canadian ideal.” This is especially true when you go out of your way to include in your observance the newest members of our Canadian family, who generally are eager to participate in the traditions of their new homeland, and in turn to share their own traditions with the wider community. 5.    Always use a Queen stamp when you write a letter or pay a bill by mail. 6.     At events of ceremony, whether a Council meeting, a graduation, a civic celebration - whatever - make sure that the Royal Anthem is sung as well as the National Anthem. To the extent you can, discourage event organizers from having a soloist “perform” them. Far more pride and         learning develop from the untrained voices of loyal folk singing together. In that way, the Anthems are sung “with heart and voice” and not merely listened to.   A FINAL IDEA: AN ACT OF LOVING SUPPORT & THANKS Apart from the above, we think it would be enormously comforting and supportive for every one of us to  write a kind letter to The Queen, expressing your thoughts at a difficult time: her beloved husband ailing, a grand-child chiding other family members via sensational television, the drumbeat of the tabloids and the restrictions on her busy life caused by the pandemic.  A selection of letters, especially those from Commonwealth Realms, are indeed seen by The Queen - and their number and tone are summarized to Her Majesty. The address is - Her Majesty The Queen, Buckingham Palace, London SW1A 1AA, UK Theoretically you don’t need postage to write the Sovereign; in practice, it is safer to affix the international airmail stamp available from your local Canada Post outlet.   AN INTERESTING OPINION PIECE FROM TODAY’S DAILY TELEGRAPHWe thought you might be interested to see the following strongly-worded opinion piece, reflecting a good deal of the tone of recent British public opinion, rather different from much of the Canadian and US commentary. Meghan’s fake interview has real-world effects The Sussexes’ claims have undermined the monarchy and done lasting damage to the Commonwealth by Tim Stanley, March 15, 2021 Two headlines appeared on the BBC News website on the same day. At the top: “Harry and Meghan rattle monarchy’s gilded cage”. At the bottom: “The kidnapped woman who defied Boko Haram”. Well, that puts the Sussexes' problems in perspective, doesn’t it? Yet across Africa, one reads, the Duchess’s story has revived memories of colonial racism, tarnishing the UK’s reputation, and has even lent weight to the campaign in some countries to drop the Queen as head of state. The only nation that seems to think a lot of nonsense was spoken is Britain. In the wake of an interview that Joe Biden’s administration called courageous, British popular opinion of Harry and Meghan fell to an all-time low, and the American format had a lot to do with it. Oprah Winfrey is not our idea of an interviewer. She flattered, fawned and displayed utter credulity. Imagine if it had been her, not Emily Maitlis, who interviewed Prince Andrew over the Jeffrey Epstein allegations. “You were in a Pizza Express that day? Oh my God, you MUST be innocent! Tell me, in all honesty, though...did you have the dough balls?” This wasn’t an interview, it was a commercial for a brand called Sussex, a pair of eco-friendly aristo-dolls that, if you pull the string, tell their truth – which isn’t the truth, because no one can entirely know that, but truth as they perceive it. “Life is about storytelling,” explained Meghan, “about the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we’re told, what we buy into.” Meghan is a postmodernist. Just as Jean Baudrillard said the Gulf War never happened, but was choreographed by the US media, so the Royal narrative she was forced to live was fake, her public happiness was fake and, following that logic, this interview might involve an element of performance, too. People have challenged her claims, alleging contradictions and improbabilities, but one of the malign effects of wokeness is that you have got to be very careful about pointing this out. Why? Because wokery insists on treating a subjective view as objective truth, or even as superior, because it’s based upon “lived experience”. To contradict that personal perspective is perceived as cruel, elitist and, in Meghan’s case, potentially racist, so it’s best to wait a few weeks to a year before applying a fact check. In the meantime, affect sympathy. People would rather you lied to their face than tell them what they don’t want to hear. The result is profoundly dishonest, for I have never known an event over which there is such a gulf between the official reception, as endorsed by the media and politics, and the reaction of average citizens, who are wisely keeping it to themselves. Into that vacuum of silence steps not the voice of reason but bullies and showmen – like Piers Morgan, who said some brash stuff about Meghan’s honesty and, after an unseemly row on Good Morning Britain, felt obliged to resign from his job.  “If you’d like to show your support for me,” he wrote afterwards, “please order a copy of my book.” Dear Lord, was this row fake, too? I can no longer be sure, though I despised Good Morning Britain before and still do: it embodies the cynical confusion of emotion and fact, a show made for clicks, where even the weatherman has an opinion. So what is real in 2021? The Commonwealth, which does a lot of good in a divided world. The monarchy, which has been at its best during the pandemic, doing the boring stuff of cutting ribbons and thanking workers that, one suspects, Meghan never grew into (can you imagine her opening a supermarket in Beccles?). It contains flawed people, but that only adds to its realness, and they can adapt faster than you might think. Prince William got the ball rolling by telling reporters, who he is trained to ignore, that his family is not racist. His wife paid her respects to the murder victim Sarah Everard, demonstrating that she is neither cold nor silenced. I’d wager Kate does her duty, day after day, no complaint, not because she is “trapped”, as Harry uncharitably put it, but because she loves her family and believes in public service. Meghan and Harry have indeed prompted the Royal family to change: not in order to endorse their criticisms, however, but to answer them.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿