#brain is so empty of creative juice. no thoughts

[bunflora]

want a new blog layout but i feel uninspired

[hyunebunx]

💝 with jisung 🤭

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💝- 'a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: manaa <33 i hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it <3 thank you sm for requesting!

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to drop by and find your boyfriend creating, brainstorming for another song while strumming his guitar or tapping a pen on the table to the rhythm created in his head. Inspiration struck at the oddest of times, not giving him a break no matter how spent or exhausted he was. And you had to understand – when the creative juices were flowing and he was in the zone, nothing and absolutely nobody mattered until he finished the song.

You find yourself in his room, sitting across from each other on the floor as you’re listening to your boyfriend go on and on about this new idea of his, strumming random chords on his guitar as he struggled to find a note he was satisfied with.

His fluffy brown hair bounces everywhere as he talks, glasses dropping a little too low on the bridge of his nose as he hasn’t raised his head from the instrument since you came in, half an hour ago.

“I’ve had this melody stuck in my head since yesterday but I can’t seem to get it out.” He hums, in hopes you might recognize it or help him somehow. He’s out of luck because truth be told, you stopped listening ten minutes ago.

You loved his creativity and passion but sometimes, like right now, you just needed his love and affection and Jisung has been too busy to notice.

“How about a snack?” You ask, standing up to which your joints thank you joyfully.

Jisung mumbles a quick ‘yes’, granting you his attention for a split second before he’s back to his guitar, hunched over in concentration.

The house is empty except for you two, with Jisung’s roommate, Minho, away on a family trip. You’d never thought you’d miss his loud and over the top laughter but now, when your boyfriend was barely paying you any attention, its absence pains you. You never realized how lively Minho kept things around here – you need to show your appreciation when he returns.

You linger longer than necessary in the kitchen, preparing snacks and drinks for the both of you before shuffling back to Jisung’s room, thankful the door was left ajar with how full your hands have gotten.

The moment you step inside, Jisung’s head snaps up with the most endearing smile stretched across his face, glasses a little bit crooked. “Baby! I got it! Hear me out, please!”

His happiness lights up the room in such a way that almost blinds you, his smile contagious and making it hard to resist the urge to smother him with your love. Jisung has never given you a warning, for if you got one, you might’ve prepared yourself better before falling head over heels in love with him. Though, you can never prepare for these things. Love sneaks up on you the moment it finds an opening, when your guard is down and the last thing you expect is being hit by cupid’s arrow, right in the heart.

Looking back, you don’t think you ever stood a chance. You were doomed from the start, when Han Jisung walked in the room you were in, a few years ago, laughing loudly with the previously mentioned roommate. Your heart has been his ever since, the sound reeling it in and never releasing it.

He’s babbling on, excited, as you set the plates down on his dresses, making your way towards him with a newfound purpose. When you lean down to get his attention, he tilts his head up with a dazzling smile, still talking and oh so unsuspecting of your next move.

Without warning, you peck his lips, causing the words to die on his tongue as he freezes, reflexively kissing back the second time your lips meet even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, his mouth agape in surprise as you stare right into his hazy eyes, “you looked too adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”

The loud sound of the guitar tumbling out of his grasp startles you, and you look down in concern while Jisung doesn’t even seem to notice, too enthralled to care. Your kisses always had that effect on him, and he’s sure they’ll continue to do so no matter how many years pass. You had him wrapped around your little finger after all, the victim of the spell your love cast on him the moment he set eyes on you.

“Ji?” You shake his shoulder lightly before crouching down to return his guitar. “The song, baby?”

“What song?” Is the first thing he manages to let out, clearing his throat as he finally comes to.

You giggle, and that’s all it takes Jisung to set the guitar aside and pull you to him by your waist, cushioning your fall as you collapse onto him before his lips are on yours again, kissing you passionately.

For a moment there, he forgot his own name. How was he supposed to remember whatever song he came up with when you used your evil powers to steal all of his attention? Though, he supposes you can’t steal something that’s always been rightfully yours…

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆ "WHERE ART THOU? WHY NOT UPONETH ME?". ellie williams — “i bet we'd have really good bed chem.”

synopsis.                   you just looked so soft, almost innocent, the true definition of fizzling with sins that she needed for her new assigment

content warnings.           MDNI, nsfw content, female-bodied reader, minor dark content, continuation of 'the ideal art inside you' if you squint, reader is whiny and for what? FOR FINGERS, fingering, knife/mixing knife/palette knife (it's used for mixing paint FYI), use/mention of blood

author's note.                   I KNOW THE TITLE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ART, but you gotta give me credit for the double-fisting that this fic is gonna be, both art and "art" is gonna be involved LMAO enough yapping, haven't written for ellie in a hot minute, enjoy the sickening(?) smut

you could never really understand the idea behind how just one look at an empty bowl, a half-filled glass of orange juice, a silly joke you made, or an irritated professor spitting their truth out onto their class sparked the countless paintings, drawings, and songs ellie came up and eventually made it into a thing. sure, some of these little things flickered some creativity in you too that made you reach for an eraser and pencil, but never in the same sense compared to ellie's.

it's one of her 'running on fumes and creating art', or in layman's terms- she is late with an assignment again.

as she kneeled above you in awe, three fingers knuckle deep inside of your hot and flushed cavern, just barely moving to keep you letting those lustful noises out that she adored so much. ellie's cheeks flushed red- was it more because of how worked up she was getting and less because of how embarrassed she felt being so vulnerable? is it desperation for your physical validation or that her mind is so starved of art it depraves her thoughts?

so many questions are and will be left unanswered, you whimper, hips arching into her hand when her fingertips curl the slightest, all your queries slipping from your mind for the benefit of ellie not slipping out of you.

she was experimenting, as she does most of the time, trying to see how much more and how different sounds can you let out. a rough hum leaves you, a sweet little cry that could alone send her over the edge.

"a little bit more, alright?"

she wasn't that cruel, it's only been fifteen or so minutes that she edged you and as much as she knew how mean of her it was to just want to listen to your moans all day, until your throat went sore, until your brain was incapable of recreating human noises. she really couldn't keep her own canvas empty, unfinished, waiting for her to find a solution to the theme and topic that landed the two of you in this position in the first place.

you mewled, losing sense of your surroundings as her fingers curled once again. the tips were touching that spongy spot inside of you, forcing a sudden hiss out that turned into a content sigh as you felt the knot in your stomach slowly tea. your breath shortened, hand grabbing into her knee as soon as she picked her pace up.

"'m g-gonna cum...!"

that's when she knew, the second you dug your nails into her skin, bruising her as you did so, ellie pulled out one of her blunter mixing knives, with not much time to think about where or how to make the cut for your blood fizzling with ecstasy.

but the best idea she had was your hand, it was already on her, and you wouldn't even notice in your orgasm-diluted sense of reality. "go on, let it all go." as she whispered the words she made the cut, not too deep, not too shallow, breathless as she watches both you and the blood trickle all over and dampening skin.

"fuck, fuck, i c-can't-"

oh, at times like this how soft she could be, leaning down to cradle you with her body, lowering herself so you can burry your face into her shoulder, the satisfied sighs and moans leaving your mouth soaked up by her skin and bones as your juices leaked into her palm. she pulled away, not too fast, not too slow as her fingers slipped out of you before she gazes at the back of your hand still sitting on her knee, twitching from the last of your orgasm. she played with the stretchy juices for a second but she was quick to go and waste it away by drying her fingers in the sheets. her lips agape as her breath got heavy, shaking as she replayed your moans in her head- the second she cut you, the slow trickle and your faltering noises, how she mentally was picking out the brush she's gonna steal the glistening red liquid away from you to plaster her canvas in with.

she got what she wanted, and you got what you deserved.

[eoieopda]

Oo we doing horny headcanons at jade hq??? Okkkkk

Your thoughts on bts as needy/horny boyfriends while you’re a busy working independent woman lmao 👀

JADE HQ ☠️ omfg. love that, love you. let’s fuckin gooooo

namjoon is sending you the horniest poetry known to man. it’s all deep cuts that only he knows about. the authors he’s quoting have mostly been dead forever (and half of them were sapphic), but he’s got their eroticism locked and loaded. you ever receive audre lorde’s recreation as a sext? now you have! you’re rolling your eyes at that big-brained motherfucker, but you’ve also never been wetter, reading pablo neruda talk about… a whole almond??

seokjin commits to the bit. you’re in a meeting, receiving a photo series that tells a story. oh, there’s his lil smirking selca. then, his neck and — what’s this? bare collarbones? a photo of clothing left in a trail down the hallway in his apartment. an empty shower, water running. most maddening is the photo of a steamed up mirror where he’s written “you done yet?” in condensation because he knows 1) you’re not done, and 2) that you can just barely make out his reflection in the fog. bastard.

yoongi is subtle. he’s sending you context-free pics of him doing shit with his hands because he 👏🏻 knows 👏🏻. he absolutely did not need to show you the iced americano he’s holding, but he does need you to see how his hand wraps around it and makes the veins in his forearm stand out. in case you weren’t picking up the hints, he gets a little more blatant. it’s game over when you get the tangerine slice leaking juice all over his fingers. RIP to you, bestie.

hoseok is thankful you work from home because you’re both accessible and distractible. he knows you’re on a Teams meeting, and that he’s not visible on webcam from the other side of your laptop. you know that you have to control your expression when he’s walking around your apartment naked with a semi, like it’s just a normal monday afternoon for him. your coworkers wonder what tf is wrong with you when your pupils visibly dilate during a boring presentation, which you haven’t glanced down at for the duration.

jimin got tired of his whining going straight to voicemail, so he’s going straight to your office. security at the front desk doesn’t recognize him, but he walks with such confidence and determination that they don’t even question that he belongs there. and your secretary? well, they’re easily charmed — and jimin’s easily charming. he’ll be waiting for you to get back from whatever’s on your schedule. try and ignore him in person — see what happens 😌 rest assured, you’ll be cancelling your next appointment. something came up.

taehyung is the king of whimsical daytime nudes. he knows you hate unsolicited dick pics as a concept, so he’s going to find the stupidest, most creative ways to let you know what’s waiting for you when you come home from work. we’re talking shit taken on a self-timer, standing naked behind a potted plant, thick dick™️ peaking through the leaves. is it ridiculous, cracked, and kinda cringey? yup. is it effective? in a way that makes you question what’s wrong with you ✨

jungkook is impatient. you’re hard at work, typing furiously to meet a project deadline. meanwhile, he’s closing your laptop, ignoring your complaints, lifting your whole body out of your desk chair, and carrying you off to the nearest fuckable surface — couch, bed, counter, whatever. you can finish your shit when he takes a post-nut nap 💕

[edupunkn00b]

Decoherence, Ch. 14: A Little Help

Creative Commons 1.0 Public Domain

Prev - A Little Help - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] - Playlist

"You going armed?" "I didn't know that was an option." "Always an option. But not a smart one. Any weapon you don't know how to use belongs to your enemy. Just be circumspect. Listen before you talk. Watch before you act." - With a Little Help by Cory Doctorow

WC: 2868 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, smoking, alcohol mention -

2027, April 30 - London, England

White hot sunlight shot through the edges of drawn curtains and Remus groaned. Closing his eyes didn’t help and instead seemed to push the light into his brain. Wincing, he hid his face in the pillow and reached across the bed for Lo.

Lo wasn’t there.

“Lo?” he shot up, head throbbing and he squinted around the room. He was still in London, and yesterday’s trousers lay on top of the hamper. His jacket hung on the back of the door and Lo's calculations from last night still decorated the mirrored closet door. Though their tumblers were gone from the nightstand, the half-empty whiskey bottle and his somersaulting stomach told him last night’s drinking had been real.

“Lo?” he called again, throat dry and cracking. He fumbled with the blankets tangled around his legs and his feet had just touched the floor when the bedroom door opened.

“You’re awake,” Lo murmured and even the headache couldn’t stop the smile that spread across Remus’ face.

He stumbled closer, smiling at the glass of pineapple juice in Lo’s hand. “You’re here,” he whispered, reaching out to touch his face. Lo’s skin was warm and soft and his cheek curled under his palm with a matching smile. “You’re real.”

“We both are,” Lo murmured back and stepped closer, curling one arm around his waist. “Here, sip,” he said and pressed the juice into his hand. “It will help with the headache. There’s breakfast, too.”

Remus drew closer and mirrored Lo's pose. As he sipped, his hand twisted itself into Lo's robe, the nubby waffle weave tangible proof he was there. “I… I was afraid I’d dreamed all of that.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d sleep longer,” Lo nuzzled against his shoulder. “I never meant to have you wake up alone.”

“It’s okay,” he hummed, pressing kisses into his hair. “I’m not alone,” he smiled.

~

Café Nero sat across the street and about fifty meters from the PROMIS halfway house and assisted living center. ‘Assisted’ was a bit like the military’s Ministry of Peace in Oceania. An unmarked car sat directly in front of the thick glass doors, locked from the outside. The cops in the car were careless with their badges, the brass glinting in the sunlight at their shift change.

“Best Bobbies in the world, huh?” Remus smirked behind his coffee cup. Lo had been right, a little breakfast, a(nother) shower and he was feeling much more like himself. 

Lo chuckled, ankle hooked around his. He was putting on a brave face, but the little twitch in his knee revealed just how nervous he really was. “I’m unconvinced they’re real police officers,” he said, tapping the sides of his cup. “Though they certainly wish to leave that impression.”

“Door’s opening,” Remus murmured, and Lo nodded, face pointed down at his cup as he watched the building through his fringe.

A man about Lo's height and build stepped through, turning behind him to tug the doors closed. He nodded to himself, dark hair bobbing in the little gesture Remus had seen Lo do a hundred times before, an imagined murmured ‘check’ almost audible. He wore neatly pressed khaki slacks and sensible but worn Danskos, polished so brightly, they gleamed from a distance. His jacket was zipped up to his chin, but the bright blue hem on his Aldi’s uniform vest peeked out from the back. 

It was him.

He squinted against the bright sunlight and swapped his eyeglasses for a pair of shades. After a quick look in either direction, Lucas headed North down the street, eyes mostly down at the sidewalk in front of him with an occasional glance up when someone approached. Remus squeezed Lo's hand and he looked back at him, eyes wide but determined. “I’ll stay on him and I’ll call you if he goes anywhere other than Aldi’s.”

“I’ll pay here and get the car.” Lo's gaze returned to his brother where he stood waiting for the crosswalk sign to change.

Remus cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss just above his ear. “We’ll get him outta that place, Lo,” he whispered, brushing another kiss against his temple. “You’ll have your brother back.”

Lo nodded, jaw clenched under Remus’ hand. “I know, Meus. Thank you,” he whispered, tearing his eyes away from Lucas to meet Remus’ eyes. “Thank you for…” he huffed out a watery laugh before he cleared his throat and nodded, a stiffer version of Lucas’ earlier movement. “For being here. For helping us.”

“Always, Lo,” he grinned and stole one more kiss before rising and zipping up his own jacket. “See you soon,” he nodded and followed Lucas’ path down the other side of the street.

~

Aldi’s was less than a kilometer from the half-way house, and, for once in this blasted city, the skies were clear, the gentle spring sunshine warming the air pleasantly and, after a few blocks, both Lucas and Remus had unzipped their jackets. It was due to be much hotter later in the day but the morning had started cool.

Lucas walked in through the front of the store and Remus jaywalked, following a few feet behind. He slowed near the entrance and picked up a flyer and a shopping basket, perusing the week’s sales as he watched Lucas step through a mirrored staff door. Remus caught a flash of lockers and the corner of a table and a dented refrigerator before the door hissed shut again.

It hadn’t been locked.

After Lucas emerged and reported to the same customer service counter where he’d first seen him while shopping with Lo, Remus remained near the doors. He spent some time in the floral section, investigating the arrangements and leafing through a bouquet order guide, muttering to himself about the price of tulips as he counted three more clerks report for work. Each one went straight to the staff room before stepping back out only a few minutes later, jackets and bags left behind.

Despite the rules displayed on the large ‘Are You Ready to Work?’ poster Remus could see from all the way in the floral section, most still carried phones, the tell-tale rectangle leaving bulges in vest or trouser pockets. He hadn’t caught if Lucas carried a phone. He hadn’t worn earbuds on the walk in, nor had he futzed about with a device while waiting for lights to change, so Remus had his doubts.

The fifteen minutes he’d spent in the floral section was undoubtedly just about to hit the ‘check on the guy loitering’ threshold, so Remus selected a low-value gift card and stood in the long line for a human cashier. While the U-Scan had cameras capturing three different angles of each customer’s face, the cameras in the ceiling over the staffed checkstands were angled away from the customer’s faces, watching, instead, the cashier and what their hands did in the cash drawer each time it opened.

“Good morning, sir, did you find everything you needed today?”

“Morning,” he nodded, phone in his hand as he pretended to be too enthralled in doomscrolling for a conversation. “Yeah, everything’s great. Thanks.” The clerk seemed relieved to be able to drop the small talk act and focused on scanning and activating the card. Remus paid with cash and nodded to the cashier before slipping the card into his jacket pocket. He walked past the customer service desk just slowly enough not to be noticed.

Lucas was there, spraying the glass counter with some industrial cleaner that Remus supposed was meant to smell like flowers. A photocopied A4 sheet of paper was tacked to the wall to his right and Remus could just make out a heading of Strive for Five - Steps for Success immediately above a little chart labeled ‘Breaks and Lunch.’

No way it was that easy.

Letting his eyes linger over the cigarettes tucked away behind the counter, Remus backtracked and approached. “Hey there,” he said, drawing out his words and keeping his face turned to the cigs. He leaned over the counter like he was trying to read the prices. “Lemme get a pack of reds,” he said, waiting until Lucas—or, Luke, as his nametag read—bent to grab a crinkly package to turn his head to scan the break schedule. Lucas was due for a break in an hour and a half and lunch in three.

“Oh, um… make it a soft pack,” he said when Lucas straightened with a little grunt and placed a package on the counter. “Please,” he added before turning again and reading the name of the manager of the day. There was a little note at the bottom talking about a district manager tour in the afternoon and a staff meeting immediately after. The front of the store would be on a skeleton crew. Wow, they really shouldn’t put this kind of shit on display.

“No problem, sir,” Lucas said. He sounded just like Lo, same timbre, same resonance in his voice. A little… stiff, and when he turned around again, Remus met his eyes. Same bright blue, the color of the sky. His pupils were tiny, though, and his brow seemed permanently creased. His hands shook. He smiled thinly at Remus, then nodded. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” 

“Thank you, Luke,” he said, pointing at his name badge. “How much do I owe you?”

“Thirteen sixty-eight,” Lucas read off the register.

Remus paid and pocketed his change. “Thanks, Luke,” he waved and slowly made his way outside.

He walked around the back of the building, following the signs for the employee smoking area. Standing on the very edge, he kept a line of sight on the doors and pretended to smoke, hiding his face when the stench hit his nose. Nasty shit. How did he ever think this was cool? He shoulda bought gum too. Next time he goes in.

Cigarette dangling between his lips, he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey, Lo?” he said quietly. “He’s here. He looks… okay. He’s not doing well. Shaky. Itching for a drink.”

Lo swore. “Yeah. Lucas was pretty dazed the last time I saw him before this, too.” His shaky sigh shattered Remus’ heart.

“Where are you, Lo?” he murmured, blowing out a mouthful of smoke away from the phone.

“Are you smoking?” Lo asked and Remus almost laughed.

“Not really,” he said, smiling at the distraction. “It’s a good excuse to loiter. Where are you?”

“Parked in the back,” Lo said. Remus heard the faint sound of keys rattling against the steering column. “Near the dumpsters. There’s a little table out here, though, too. It looks like people come out here for lunch. Garbage can is full.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna text you the schedule I saw in there,” he said. “I’ll stay here and go back in before his first break. We can watch both doors. Then…”

“Then we’ll get him,” Lo said, voice tight.

“Then we’ll get him.”

~

Twenty minutes later, Remus made his way back inside the store. He walked slowly, shoulders drooped, and yawned, every pokey movement playing the part of a shift worker on an odd day off. He picked up a basket and took his time inspecting a bright pyramid of oranges.

His head jerked up at a familiar, bubbly voice.

“Slow down, Kiddo!” Patton laughed. “We’ll need a shopping cart today!”

Virgil’s feet slowed as he darted into the store, but only slightly and Patton followed just behind him, one hand on a shopping cart and the other stretched to keep hold of his son. The four year old bounced through the floral section, eyes wide as he stopped and sniffed the flowers. Shit.

Weren’t they out of town? Remus shook his head. He’d never actually checked his voicemail. Ducking behind a tall overstock cart, he pretended to shop for cilantro, confident both Patton and Janus’ distaste for the herb would keep them away. He tucked his phone against his ear and dialed into his voicemail.

‘Change of plans, Re, we’re on our way back. The campsite’s flooded. Jan was able to convince them to refund our fees and extend credit for a spot in two months, but… Virge’s pretty disappointed.’

Remus chuckled as Virgil happily chattered with Patton about the different kinds of purple flowers he saw. The kid bounced back.

‘Anyway, how about—’

Patton’s voice on the other side of the stocking cart pulled his attention from the call and Remus froze. He didn’t come any closer, though, and instead grabbed a tiny box of dill and returned to Virgil’s side where he clamored for a pint of strawberries.

What the hell were they doing at this Aldi’s? They didn’t shop here. Patton always complained that, despite the chain, the prices were too high and it was out of their way. This location had a better floral department, though, and a toy section, so maybe it was an attempt to distract Virgil from the loss of the camping trip. 

Virgil held tight to Patton’s hand as they wandered around the front of the store. Remus dodged them, watching without watching too closely. The last thing he needed was getting pulled aside to ask why he was staring at the little kid and his dad. “Poppy, Poppy! This way! I wanna see the books!” Artfully arranged next to the customer service counter was a bright display of best sellers and kids’ books. “Oh! The chameyeon!” he cried, tugging a little harder on Patton’s hand.

“Okay, Kiddo,” Patton laughed, “We’re going, we’re going…” He shook his head, watching as the little boy ducked around a slow-moving shopper. “Excuse us,” he waved, grabbing the cart handle again before it veered off the other way.

“Hi, Wucas!” Virgil called in a sing-song as they passed and Remus almost knocked over a display rack full of helium balloon weights.

What the fuck? 

Lucas’ gaze followed Virgil and Patton, head tilted and his eyebrows knit together in a perfect imitation of Lo's confused face. Patton didn’t appear to have heard him, working to unwedge one cart wheel from a metal map stand. It was over in a moment, Virgil’s attention drawn to a board book version of The Mixed Up Chameleon. 

“Oh, look, Kiddo,” Patton said, reaching over him and drawing his attention to a more advanced book. “They have Knuffle Bunny Too, too,” he said with a laugh and passed the book to Virgil. The little boy nodded, turning the pages with a growing smile.

“Can we get both?” He looked up at Patton with perfect puppy dog eyes.

“Sure thing, Kiddo,” he laughed and moved to scoop the little boy up and seat him in the basket of the shopping cart. “Now, how about we tackle what’s on our list?” Virgil grinned and settled into the cart cross-legged, books open in his lap as Patton took out his phone and started tapping before heading off to the produce section.

Remus turned a rack of flower seeds, moving with it and keeping it between him and Patton and Virgil as they passed. He watched Patton stroll through the produce section, nattering to Virgil about the new GMO grapes. Virgil, meanwhile, had abandoned the book in his lap and bolted upright, staring.

But he wasn’t staring at him. Remus looked over his shoulder. Lucas had slipped out from behind the counter, spray bottle and rag in hand. He’d crouched down in front of the display case, polishing the pristine surface. Virgil watched him, eyes wide, and again, Remus was reminded of just how much Lucas resembled his younger brother.

As Virgil stared at Lucas, Remus watched. The little boy’s gaze would bounce back over to Patton from time to time, but he remained quiet. Finally, Patton pushed the cart around a corner and they both disappeared from view. Remus’ phone buzzed. Keeping his eyes out for Lucas and Patton, he checked his messages.

Breaktime?

Remus peered over the top of the seed rack. Another clerk rushed from the breakroom, still buttoning her uniform. Lucas had one hand on the telephone next to the register. “I’m coming, Luke! I’m coming!” she called.

He tilted his head and smiled, a forced version of Lo's grin. “You’re always late,” he said matter-of-factly. “But you always come right when I touch the receiver.

“Well, yeah,” she said, tapping the screen. “I don’t want you to rat me out.” The machine beeped and she nodded. “Okay, I’m clocked in. Have a good break,” she said with a little eye roll.

“Thank you,” he said, mirroring her sarcasm. He removed his vest and folded it over his arm as he walked toward the back entrance. Remus watched him from the corner of his eye for another thirty seconds, comparing the recommended zonal planting stages for king and standard marigolds. Finally, he sighed, tucking both seed packets into the rack.

The clerk looked up and he shrugged. “Fuck knows I can’t grow any of this for shit,” he muttered and sauntered away, long slow strides allowing him to catch up to Lucas without appearing to rush. As he walked, he took out his phone and tapped a message to Lo.

We’re on our way.

I’m ready.

[lipglossanon]

HIII i hope ur day is going well😇 i hv been having sum thoughts (fluffy and smutty..) abt stepbro!leon that i wanted to share with u if that’s alright 🤭

okay so first, last night i was watching love & death since it just came out, and it just got me thinking abt reader watching a movie alone and leon walks into her room and decides to join her, (maybe the parents r on their own lil date so leon and reader hv the house to themselves) and they’re just cuddling watching the movie and it’s just overall very sweet, throwing little comments here and there to each other abt the movie, maybe a little make out session occasionally when the movie is going a little slow🤭 but it’s just a very sweet moment between them and reader kinda throws out a comment like “why are you being so nice right now?” GAHAHA and leon just kinda stares at her like😐 “do you want me to be mean?” LOL i think that even tho the smut is *amazing*, it’s just very nice to think abt some fluffy moments between these characters also teehee

okay now onto the filth😈

this came up in my head like a night or two ago and it’s lowkey a request if ur into it as well, but imagine fucking stepbro!leon (and their lil “rendezvous” has already been established if u catch my drift) in his car in an empty parking lot late at night after spending the entire day together on a forced bonding session or smth, and the tension has just been building all day, the windows are fogging up with steam, phones going off from all the texts from their parents asking where they r but they just don’t care and r ignoring the dings/vibrates🫣

OK LAST ONE this one is simple. sex tape with stepbro!leon OR EVEN CORRUPT COP LEON. that’s it, that’s the tweet. esp with corrupt cop leon, it cld be smth that they both can use to hold them over when leon has to work those long night shifts :((

HEHE okay that’s it i hope u enjoy these😇

-🪷

It will always and forever be alright to share stepbro Leon thoughts 😎 👍

Awww that is so sweet!! I’m over here giggling and twirling my hair 🤭 oh my gosh, yes!! he’d pick on her so much after she asked why he was being nice 😝 but like in a cute teasing way 🥰

And anon we are sharing a moment here because I have been brainstorming car sex with stepbro Leon for a few days now 😩 so I’ll make sure to implement your freaking big brain energy when I go to write it 💜 💜 ugh sexy tensions and steamy windows and just 🤤 🤤 love the way you think anon 😍

Sex tape?! Oooh 👀 👀 both options have some tantalizing situations. I’ll have to see what creative juices flow with that idea 😜

I love them anon, I want to send many relaxing thoughts to your beautiful brain 😘 please don’t be afraid to send more!! 💜 💜

[lopsided-whiskey-grin]

I love this art so much a wrote a story for it! Thank you @pluvillion for getting my creative juices flowing （。ˇ ⊖ˇ）♡  Enjoy! 

(GhostxSoap - whump, fluff, boys kissing, ~1800 words) on AO3

**************

It was supposed to be a solo intel-gathering mission — easy in, easy out. But with this company there was no such thing as easy. Soap had drawn the short straw and was to infiltrate the abandoned warehouse, get the info, and rendezvous with the team the next night. Simple.

But there had been nothing but radio silence from him for hours and Ghost was not about to stand around one more minute with his thumb in his ass if Soap might be in trouble. He remembered the last thing he said to him before Soap had parachuted out of the helo: "Take care of yourself down there for me, Johnny."

He had tried to keep his voice even and not meet Soap's eyes too much as he double-checked his parachute riggings, but had failed at both things.

"Sir, yes, sir," Soap had replied softly and had given him a smile that could melt even Ghost's frigid heart. Ghost might have forgotten how to breathe in that moment.

And now here Ghost was, standing at the entrance of the derelict warehouse, stomach tied up in knots.

"Soap, how copy?" Ghost tried the radio one more time, but was still met with fuck-all for a response. "Bollocks," he growled. Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Ghost made his way inside.

The warehouse was dingy and dark, with only a few sporadically lit fluorescents to light the way. A couple unsuspecting mercs nearby were easy to take out quietly, but soon all bloody hell broke loose. Mercs seemed to swarm from every corner, more than their counter-intelligence had originally bargained for. No wonder Soap got ambushed here.

Ghost methodically took them out, one by one, then crept upstairs to a small, dark hallway that led to a handful of offices. Each room was empty, until he came to the last one. Ghost kicked the door in and felt his stomach drop. Soap was unconscious, (or dead, his brain unhelpfully supplied) tied to a chair in the middle of the room, with two men standing over him — one with a gun, one with a crowbar. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting the scene in an unnatural light.

Unmitigated rage immediately spiked through Ghost at the sight and he wasted no time in taking the men out with two precisely placed shots. He stepped into the room carefully and noted two other men in the corner, already dead. Soap must have eliminated them before being subdued and restrained. Good boy, Ghost thought proudly.

Seeing no one else, Ghost hurried across the room, heart thudding heavy in his chest. Soap's arms and legs were bound to the chair and his head hung forward, chin nearly touching his chest. Ghost stretched his arm out, placing his bare inner wrist under Soap's nose. A soft rush of air washed against his skin. Still breathing. Shallow, but it's there.

Relieved only slightly, Ghost knelt down between Soap's spread knees and brought a gloved hand to his cheek. There was a gash on his temple with a line of tacky, drying blood that tracked all the way down to his neck. Ghost knew the result of the impact of the butt end of a rifle when he saw one. His gaze then drifted to a deep purple shiner forming under Soap's left eye and a cut on the swell of his bottom lip. Ghost couldn't stop his hand from trembling.

"Johnny? Time to get up. We need to get you out of here. "

He shook his face gently with one hand while reaching for his knife to cut Soap's binds. Glancing down, he saw that they were zip ties, three and even four holding his wrists and ankles to the chair and started fuming all over again. A little overkill, innit? But then he remembered the two dead mercs in the corner and thought they were right to play it safe with one as lethal as MacTavish.

Ghost went to work cutting the ties from Soap's ankles, but before he could move to his wrists, the soft sound of boot-falls in the hallway alerted his attention. On instinct alone, Ghost barely even turned before letting fly the knife in his hand. It found its home to the hilt in the chest of the merc in the hall behind him.

Soap let out a weak groan and Ghost turned back quickly. "Soap?" Ghost cupped a gentle hand at the back of Soap's neck. "Johnny. On your feet, soldier."

Soap lifted his head slowly and his eyes fluttered open with obvious effort. His gaze was glassy, unfocused, and as soon as it landed on Ghost, he jerked back, panicked. He struggled with the ties holding his wrists violently enough to draw blood. A cold sweat broke out on Ghost's back — the mask. Soap was so disoriented from the blow to his head he didn't even recognize him.

He latched onto Johnny's shoulders to hold him still. "Shh, shh. Oi, Soap, it's me. It's Ghost. I'm here."

After a moment, Soap stilled, his chest heaving as he fought for air. And then he blinked and those blue eyes finally cleared. "L.t?"

The raw wonder on Soap's face twisted something up inside him. Ghost let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Yeah." Ghost cleared his throat and pulled another knife from his vest. "Didn't think I'd come looking for your sorry arse after twelve fuckin' hours of radio silence?"

Soap managed a small smile, but winced when it opened up the cut on his lip. "So you do like me after all?" he rasped.

Ghost let out a light chuckle and finished cutting off the zip ties. After sheathing his knife, he tenderly inspected Soap's wrists. A couple scrapes and cuts, but otherwise all right. He had a momentary crazed vision of pulling the wounds to his mouth to lay the gentlest of kisses there but quickly blinked the surprising image away.

Jarred by the thoughts in his own mind, Ghost dropped Soap's hands down into his lap a little unkindly. "I told you before, I like you alive, MacTavish."

He stood abruptly. "Can you walk?" He offered an arm to help pull Soap to his feet.

Soap's brows knit together and he shook his head. "I dinnae. They bashed the shit outta my knee, but I'll try."

Ghost's eyes cut to the crowbar in the dead soldier's hand and a bright flare of anger burned through him. He wished he had done more than just shot the man.

It took effort and a fair amount of cursing, but Ghost was able to tug Soap up out of the chair by the front of his tactical vest. He looped Soap's arm over his shoulders to keep him upright. Soap let out a pained hiss through gritted teeth and Ghost could see a few beads of sweat pop up on his temple.

"Just hafta get down a few stairs and outside and we'll get you patched right back up. I'll even get you a shot of tequila if you're a good boy."

Soap huffed out a shaky laugh and limped alongside Ghost out of the room.

At the top of the staircase Ghost radioed the helo team for immediate evac. They came back with an ETA of five minutes. Wasn't fast enough, in Ghost's opinion, but they didn't exactly have a fucking choice, now did they?

"Ready for this?" he asked, glancing at Soap beside him.

Soap looked alarmingly pale as he eyed the stairs before them. He swayed a bit so Ghost brought a hand up to his middle to steady him. "We'll go one stair at a time, all right, mate?"

Soap swallowed hard, but nodded. Ghost's chest tightened up with emotion and he quickly shoved it down. Get him to the helo, just get him to the fucking helo.

They began their descent together and did pretty good getting down the first half, but then Soap suddenly sagged against Ghost with a pained moan and they more or less stumbled down the rest.

Ghost's heart was in his throat as he shuffled Soap to the wall next to the exit. He propped his back up against it and wedged a knee between Soap's thighs to keep him upright.

"Johnny? Stay with me, love." Ghost hooked a finger under Soap's chin and brought his head up. His brain fumbled for something, anything to keep Johnny awake. "Hey, tell me, why was the strawberry crying?" he asked a little frantically. Where was that fucking evac?

Soap did his best to keep his eyes open and centered on Ghost. It took him a moment, but finally with a sigh he replied, "Cause he was in a jam." He gave Ghost a tired smile.

Ghost couldn't stop himself from brushing his thumb over the swell of Soap's bottom lip and dipping his head forward just slightly until their foreheads almost touched. Soap surprised him by parting his lips a little. They were both breathing hard.

"I still canne believe you came for me." Soap huffed out a shaky laugh. "My hero."

Ghost swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat. "I'll always come for you, Johnny." His voice was not but a hoarse whisper.

"An e sin fìrinn?" Soap mumbled, clearly amused.

"English, MacTavish," Ghost warned, closing his eyes and bumping their foreheads together.

"Sorry, sir," Soap chuckled. He brought his hands up to grip Ghost's broad shoulders. "I said 'is that a fact?'".

Realization dawned on Ghost at what he'd said and the innuendo it implied and blushed hard under his mask. I'll always come for you, Johnny. He pulled back a little, grabbing Soap by the vest and tugging him forward slowly. Soap went easily.

"Might be," he replied gruffly with a coy smile he knew Soap couldn't see. He canted his head to the side, his gaze searching Johnny's face. "That a problem for you, Sergeant?"

The sound of the helo coming in for a landing outside the warehouse filled the air. Relief flooded Ghost, mixing with the anticipation of Johnny's answer.

Soap grinned and pulled Ghost's mask up just enough to expose his mouth then closed the distance between their lips to just a hair's breadth. "Not at all, Lieutenant," he said, just before bringing his mouth up to Ghost's.

Ghost was frozen for a moment before melting into the kiss. It was everything he hadn't realized he'd wanted, needed, until now. But he knew, deep down, that he always had known. It was there, staring him right in the face since the moment he met Soap. And all it took was one fucking kiss.

It was the best goddamn kiss Ghost had ever had.

"Take care of yourself for me, Johnny."

@mizushibart let me use one of their artworks as a reference. i asked for permission the first time i saw it last night because my brain literally latched onto the artwork and never wanted to let go. it was screaming at me "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!". here it is.

[sighingmagnolia]

Blank space. How fucking novel. I want to run wild alone through the keys of this keyboard. And here I wait with a knotted stomach, tight neck, and dogs pacing at my feet awaiting their dinner. I don’t want to participate. In the dishes, and laundry, and house straightening. Not today. In this precious quiet as the baby sleeps in the next room. I want to stretch out my brain and connect with the unusual unrhythmed space in myself. Without all the yibba abba have to’s. 

But I pause and feel it. An emptiness resides inside-so blank of thought. So absent of plan, or opinion, or words. Just a big negative space. As if my insides were an eraser board who has been smudged clean. And all those creative meanderings, all those juices went dry. So I look around this space-this living room-and contemplate rearranging it. Just to feel something novel. 

Is there rest? Is there repair? How do they occur among the strewn toys and the clutter surfaces. Remnants of lunch on the ground. Or the pile of things to be listed and cleaned, organized, and bagged. Or the ticking clock of nap time, ever winding down.

This dissatisfaction gnawing for solution, yet a weight that hangs inside the walls of my veins. An equation, this life, with too many variables to juggle. That in the end I haphazardly manage just a few and meanwhile feel that I’m falling behind. And with that, my last shred of energy collapses.

This is today, this moment. Tomorrow another. So many colors-these days.

[munumono]

Falling asleep on their shoulders on a train || Genshin Men X GN Reader

modern au

warnings: none, no proof read

characters: albedo, childe, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, scaramouche, thoma, xiao, zhongli

Albedo : He didn't realise at first that you were asleep on his shoulder. He was too occupied to notice. Scrolling through the documents on his laptop, he suddenly felt a weight on one of his shoulder. He looked to his side to see you, peacefully sleeping on his shoulder. He looked at you for a whole minute, deciding whether to move or not. But well, you looked so peaceful that he didn't want to wake you up. He looked at his laptop, sighed, and turned it off, carefully. He took his phone out to lower the ringtone just in case it rings and wakes you up. He lowered himself to make it comfortable for you and gazed at the scenario through the glass window on the opposite side, taking in the silence between you two.

Childe : He was going through his phone that he felt a weight on one of his shoulders. He looked to the side to notice you, in deep sleep. He was planning to wake you up but he noticed your little snores, which would be a lie if he says he didn't find it cute. Letting you sleep on his shoulder, he kept scrolling through his phone. The next station arrived as the sound of the announcement woke you up. Oh dear, how embarrassing, you thought. Before you could say anything, he gave you his phone, "You can keep be the apology for later, can I have your number before you get off the train?"

Diluc : As there were no seats available, he was standing while talking on his phone about some work. As he was speaking, he felt a weight pushing him forward. He thought it was someone trying to break through the crowd, so he looked at his side. You were hardly trying to balance your very self as you leaned on to his shoulder, in deep sleep. Diluc stiffened at the contact. He tried to wake you up but the movement caused while waking you up, made you lean even closer to him while resting your head on his shoulder. He immediately tried to cage you so you wouldn't fall, which, apparently looked like he was hugging you. Embarrassed would be very least compared to what Diluc was feeling at that moment. Poor man, he even thought what if you wake up and think he is a pervert. The voice on the ongoing call kept calling his name. He took his phone close to his lips as he whispered, "Adelinde, can you inform others that I'll be late for the meeting? I can't get down on the next station, apparently."

Kaeya : Kaeya, himself, was leaning back onto the seat while trying to take a small nap. Last night's hangover and all didn't really give him enough time to sleep and, here he was, taking a small nap on a train. Kaeya is a light sleeper, so when he felt a weight on one of his shoulder, he was quick to react. Kaeya stared at your figure leaning dearly on his shoulder in deep slumber. He thought to wake you up but hesitated to disturb your peaceful sleep. So, Kaeya, out of no choice, decided to take a nap too. It will also be much better if you wake up and see him asleep, that way you will be less embarrassed, he thought. Well, you woke up to missing your station.

Kazuha : Kazuha was reading a book, full of poems. He did realise that beside him on the seat, there was a person who was in deep slumber, you. Kazuha and you were both strangers but also not. You both used to get on the same train and get off the same train, together. A relationship where you both met each other every single day but never talked to. Kazuha was reading the poems that he noticed something. Beside you two, there was a third person on your side. Slowly, you were leaning on their shoulder in deep slumber. Well, Kazuha wouldn't have bothered much till the stranger you were leaning onto started to wrap their arm around your sleeping figure. Oh dear, the way Kazuha glared at the stranger was enough haunting to them for few nights while going to bathroom alone. Kazuha coughed, eyeing the stranger as he gestured with his fingers 'they're with me'. The stranger was quick to remove his arms around your figure while Kazuha inched closer to you, carefully making you lean on his shoulder instead. He slowly removed some hair stances on your eyes, and layed his head onto your head lightly, reading his book, as you both waited for the next station.

Scaramouche : Scaramouche wasn't having it. You were sleeping on his shoulder for the past thirty minutes. He seriously wanted to wake you up and he actually did, just to get no response from you. He stared straight, facing the opposite side of the train. He looked so pissed that he even made a child on the train cry from his glare. Giving up, he sighed. He was going to get off on the next station. The next station arrived, he was about to get up while not really caring about your sleeping figure leaning on him, that he noticed something. A stranger on the opposite side of the train, facing you both, as he stared creepily at your figure. Oh dear, the moment the stranger realized they were getting stared at by someone, only to meet Scaramouche's typical death glare, they were so close to wet themselves. Scaramouche didn't stop though. He kept glaring at the stranger as if they were nothing but a piece of dirt. Which ended up with the stranger getting down on the current station even though their station was after few. Scaramouche stayed, not feeling assured that you'll be safe in your deep slumber, missing his station. You woke up after a while, to find a purple haired man looking at you with such disappointment which made you apologize not only at that moment, but, the rest of the journey.

Thoma : It was busy and crowdy on the train. Thoma stood straight with plastic bags filled with stuffs hanging on his arms as he hold you still while you laid your head on his chest being in deep slumber. You both knew each other since you both stayed nearby, barely interacting than just a 'good morning' & 'good evening'. How you ended up like this starts like this, you were standing on the train as you gave your seat to an old lady since there were no seats available. You were pretty exhausted, sleepy, every single word which is the opposite of relaxed. Thoma, being on the same train, took notice of your figure slowly dozing off to sleep. Well, you would have hit your nose or so if he didn't dash in front of you to carefully make you lean on him. Thoma stayed like this for a few minutes till the next station arrived and the crowd got off, leaving enough seats. Thoma, being the gentleman he is, carefully made your sleeping figure sit while taking a seat beside you. Carefully inching closer, making your head lean on his shoulder, he relaxed his strained muscles he got while standing for long enough. Do accept his invitation for dinner at his house after you wake up and instead of accepting your apology he throws this invitation <3

Xiao : Oh please, he is so stiff at the contact as you were laying your head on his shoulder, taking a trip to dreamland. First of all, Xiao doesn't even know who you are. He saw you for the first time on this train. Seeing your packed bag, he assumed you were visiting someone in another city, but, where does you sleeping on his shoulder part came from? He is, not at all, moving. Staring straight on the empty seats in front of him, he's just wishing for you to wake up. Of course, he won't wake you up, if he really did then he won't miss his station which was literally the last one the train stopped at. He didn't know how to move. Bonus, you kept snuggling unconsciously on his shoulder because, it was comfy✨. You woke up to missing your station, which was apparently the second last station in the list. The train all empty, and mind you, you woke up to the Ticket Examiner calling you up since it was the last station and all passengers have gotten down except you two, you and Xiao. You looked at the guy beside you who had a frown on his face as he crossed his arm looking down not saying a word. 'Tsk' was all you heard. Well don't worry, you both took another train, this time, you were fully awake.

Zhongli : How long has it been since you fell asleep? Oh, well, you might not know but Zhongli does. It's been hell lot of time. But the man, as calm and collected he is, even when a random stranger is leaning on to his shoulder in deep slumber, he didn't react. Zhongli, understood how tired you might have been since you basically fell asleep on a stranger's shoulder. He didn't move an inch, just in case he wakes you up. Maybe the calm and collected man has lost some of his calmness, resulting in a flustered mess (still collected though mind you) when an old lady commented on both of you, "Such a lovely couple you both are. I had my time like this too, with my husband, before we both got married." Ok but, it would not be justice if I say you both, Zhongli and you, looked any less than a couple. God, date already <3. Ok facts aside, Zhongli did tell the old woman that you both were not dating, which he got a reply, "Oh, my apologies for assuming that. But, saying from experience, you both should give it a try if you both happen to be single, haha." Ok but that's facts. You woke up to see Zhongli, with red tint all over his cheeks. You immediately apologized for your doing. Don't be surprised if the next day you see the same man waiting for you in the train, keeping a seat for you.

note: might have lost creative brain juice for zhongli's part <\3

[blueeandyellowmakesgreen]

so @strangeswift gave me a writing prompt of will bonding with someone through art, and mike getting jealous and i got.. uh.. carried away 😁😁

anyway, hope you enjoy it!!

will finds himself painting a lot lately. due to their, er, current situation, it was hard to find the best art materials, but he guesses it was a perfect opportunity to try out more sketching just to get it out of his system.

he sits on an empty bench near hawkins high, currently waiting for mike to finish his volunteering shift. mike actually asked him to stay with him, but he insisted he needed some fresh air alone. he tried to ignore mike’s hurt puppy expression and the somber way he said ‘oh, okay.’ as he requested it.

he didnt know what he was drawing. he practically had two full pages full of scribbles that amounted to nothing, that it led him to exhale out of frustration. he places the crumpled pages close to him so he makes sure to properly throw it later. he hated not being able to make things. it was the only way to keep him distracted from his thoughts, but his mind just decided…not to cooperate. the brain’s funny like that. will’s brain is funny like that. he had the biggest art block since the entire world ended and all that could occupy his mind was his stupid unrequited crush. so sue him for not making the creative juices flow enough.

that is, until he sees a particular guy at his proximity. he looked like a student, and he was talking with his friends. he seemed cheerful, a bright spirit with the way his laugh projects from where will was sitting. long, curly hair brunette, with kind eyes. he was wearing an oversized polo with that was effortlessly tucked into his shorts. if will was staring any longer like a creep, he could have sworn he saw piercings under his nose too.

and before will knew it, will draws a stroke, then two. it didnt take long until he was drawing a wisp of the boy’s hair, building it up. absentmindedly, his hands begin to move on its own as he puts in a couple of short strokes in a certain area. the lines lead to a nose with a strong bridge. he transitions to putting quite some detail in the subject’s lips, and then the kind eyes will took in great detail of.

just a couple of details, some subtle shading and… done.

will marvels at his new creation, and he found it hard not to stare. mostly because he couldnt believe he was capable of drawing something this good. he believed at least, that it was enough to capture this person’s beauty, that was worth something. and even if he’s the only one he’d think that, he’ll hold it close. he lets himself be proud of this one.

‘’tsk. damn, i knew i was attractive, but…’’

will jumps at the voice behind him. as if on instinct, he swiftly fumbles to close his sketchbook and set it aside. his head darts from his sketchbook, to the guy behind him.

and after a few short glances, will concludes this is not just some guy. this was the guy who he was just fucking sketching in public and now he has no idea how to get out of this situation that doesnt make him seem like a creep.

but he also found it rude to leave the guy hanging overall. he takes a deep breath. whats the harm in digging the grave a bit deeper?

‘’h-hey, uh.. listen about this...i dont normally do this. draw like this in public.’’ will manages to croak out. smooth.

the boy’s kind eyes smile. ‘’but im just soo handsome that i broke that habit out of you? im flattered.’’

‘’i-im sorry, i didnt mean to freak you out. let me just..’’ will stammers, in the process of tearing out the paper where the sketch is. before he starts to crumple it, the boy suddenly holds will’s hand. will knew it was to stop him, but the fact a boy is holding his hand thats not a threat in any way is making his brain short circuit a bit.

‘’before you do that..can i see it?’’ the boy asks earnestly. will could only stare, incredulous. ‘’come on, its my face. i at least have a right to see it.’’

‘’it-it’s not really that good.’’

‘’ill be the judge of that.’’ he smirks, and gently takes the sketch off of will’s hands. he leaves him with a flirtatious smirk leaving will flushed.

he then turns his gaze onto the paper and continues to look at it for what seemed like an eternity for will. he scans his face for a reaction, but it looked like the boy was still making his final verdict.

will was dying. he didnt know why he cared about the opinion of this boy so much, but he did. hell, something must have possessed him, because the last time he drew a boy he found pretty was mike wheeler and he was basically his muse. he felt like he was betraying mike somehow, even if he never actually told mike he was the constant subject of a of his paintings.

will wanted to jump off a cliff from this humiliating revalation.

‘’you’re amazing,’’ the boy’s booming voice brings will back to reality. ‘’i love the way you shade. you brought out my features so well in a way thats you. like from this piece alone, i can tell what your distinctive art style is, and that is insanely difficult to pull off. you should be proud!’’

will finds himself at a loss of words from the sudden compliment. he has no doubt his face is as red as an apple right now. all he could do was nod rapidly, and mutter a simple thanks. the boy attempts to flip a page, only to look back at will with a look asking for approval. will nods again to accept. one person looking at his sketchbook couldnt hurt, right?

..until he reaches the forbidden page where its full of mike drawings. he feels his cheeks glow red again, heart rate beating. he cant believe he forgot that was even there. this is why he doesnt let people see his stuff! its all of his feelings in one page!

however, he wasnt met with a look of disgust. just curiosity, and softness. ‘’these are all great. i can see youve been experimenting with a lot of mediums here; acrylic, charcoal. have you tried oil?’’

‘’oh.. yeah. oil is a little new for me. im meaning to get better at it though.’’

‘’good. its good to be an all rounder.’’ the boy says enthusiastically as he flips more pages, the beaming look of genuine awe never leaving his face. more pages of his sketches of mike show up, and will intends to coil himself into a ball until he shrinks to nonexistence.

‘’i notice you draw this guy a lot. is he someone you like?’’

will freezes.

the boy closes the sketchbook, waving his hands in the air. ‘’no, no, shit! um…dont worry. dont worry, okay? fuck, i keep forgetting it’s…’’ the boy sighs. will starts to get confused at his reaction. why was he taking this so strongly?

‘’im…i didnt mean to scare you. its just.. im.. i mean, if you are..’’ the boy continues to stammer, and will feels himself lean closer.

could he also be..?

‘’m-my boyfriend. im an artist too, actually. and i tend to draw him a lot.’’ he finally lets out, his hand gently caressing will’s sketchbook and brings it back to him. ‘’its normal.’’

‘its normal.’

its normal.

will repeats it to himself like a mantra.

will holds out a breath he didnt know he was holding. he smiles widely. god, hes actually meeting someone who’s just like him. unfortunately taken, but wow.

we do exist.

‘’well..he’s not my boyfriend though.’’ will mutters, playing with the spirals on the top of his sketchbook. his smile drops once he says it. ‘’mike-his name is mike- has a girlfriend. well, had a girlfriend.’’

‘’oh fuck.’’

‘’.. who just so happens to be my sister.’’

‘’oh fuck.’’

will finds himself smiling at his reaction. yeah, he knows his situation’s the worst, but at least he can get a kick out of how people are taking it. ‘’yep.’’ he replies popping the ‘p’ at the end.

‘’im sorry, man.’’

‘’its okay. all i wanted was for us to be best friends again. but lately, i feel like…we aren’t anymore.’’

‘’why do you say that?’’

will still finds it strange and shocking how he’s openly telling someone about his definitely not straight feelings to a stranger, but in all honesty he never felt safer in his life. so he finds it in himself to continue.

‘’i-i don’t know,’’ will scoffs. ‘’i don’t even know what i did. we’re at such a.. weird stage in our friendship right now that i dont even know what we are. first he ignores me for her, now when he broke up with her, hes running back to me spouting about he wants to be friends, and now hes gone back to fixating over her and ignoring me again. like… i feel like’s playing with me. and i hate myself for it. i should get angry, but all i can do is accept when he runs back to me, even if its so unfair. because unfortunately, ive been in love with this stupid guy for as long as i can remember, and i feel stuck.’’

will presses his lips to a line, and closes his eyes. before he knew it, tears slowly started to come down. and now he’s crying to a stranger. great! ‘’sorry. i never.. met someone like me before, so this is..’’

‘’dont apologize, alright man? i get it,’’ the boy says as he gently rubs will’s back. ‘’this is huge for me too.’’

‘’how did you know? weren’t you worried i was going to..be disgusted, or something?’’ will asks.

he shrugs. ‘’i dont know. there’s something about you. about me. we just know, right?’’

will wipes his tears and sniffs. ‘..yeah. right.’’

‘’and concerning your friend…’’ the boy smiles gradually. ‘’don’t give up.’’

‘’what?’’

‘’after what you told me? something tells me its.. not over between you two.’’

before will could inquire any more, a gentle but tight grip lands on his shoulder. he turns around, it was mike. ‘’hey, sorry for the wait. you good?’’

‘’oh, yeah.’’ will turns to the boy with kind eyes with a big grin. ‘’im really glad i met you.’’

the boy grins back. ‘’me too! is there any way we can keep in touch?’’

‘’yeah! yeah, let me just..’’ will tears a small piece of paper from his sketchbook and starts writing his number down. before he could continue, he turns to mike with an apologetic look. ‘’sorry for this mike, give me 2 minutes.’’

‘’sure, whatever.’’ mike says flatly, not even looking at will. he was crossing his arms, his demeanor all grumpy.

okay, weird. did something happen back in the school?

will finishes writing the number and gives it to the boy. ‘’this is at the wheeler’s place, but we’re just staying over there. you can just ask for me.’’

‘’i mean i would, but i dont even know your name.’’

before will could open his mouth, mike takes over for him. ‘’his name is will. what’s yours?’’

what seemed like an innocent question sounded very threatening and condescending to everyone else.

he squints before answering. ‘’my name’s ty. yours?’’ he asks rather teasingly. will is so lost, because ty is looking at mike like he’s an open book, and he knows the chapters like the back of his hand.

‘’mike. mike wheeler.’’ he extends his arm for a handshake. ty reaches out to accept it but once he reached a glimpse of contact, mike pulls back immediately as if he was burnt. ty doesnt seem too bothered though. if anything, he feels like he was expecting that. ‘’ahhh.. so you’re mike.’’ ty says with one side of his lips curving upward.

will felt the tension rise. he did not like it.

mike clears his throat. ‘’will, we need to go. curfew, remember?’’

‘’since when did you care about curfew?’’ will smirks.

‘’i don’t,’’ mike rolls his eyes. ‘’honestly, i just wanna go home.’’

‘’okay, okay.’’ will obliges. he takes one last look at ty, who was giving the two a knowing look as they walk away. again, weird. what the hell does ty know about them after a 10 minute conversation?

he then turns back to mike whose back was more slumped than usual, walking a little faster than will. will jogs up to catch up to him.

‘’so, how was your shift?’’ will asks awkwardly.

‘’it was fine.’’

‘’..mike, did something happen? because you seem a little…’’

‘’im fine, will.’’

‘’..okay.’’

the atmosphere was very tense now, and will didnt want to escalate it further than it has. he knew mike was already drifted away, and he did not want to make it more complicated. he got the message, theyre not that close anymore. done.

but mike suddenly stops in his steps, which makes will do the same. ‘’mike?’’

‘’will.. did you.. draw him?’’

will has been turning red a lot today lately. ‘’w-what?’’

‘’that.. guy. did you draw him?’’

‘’i.. did. did you see that?’’ will yells at himself, beating himself up internally for drawing in public, for putting his heart out on his sleeve. curse one cute guy for making him submit. he feels mike walk closer to him. his heart beats rapidly. this was it. he was mentally preparing for mike to hate him, tell him he’s disgusting, and that he never wants to see him again.

‘’do you draw me?’’

‘’what?’’

‘’i know you draw me with the rest of the party, with.. dnd stuff but..’’ now it was mike’s turn to fumble in his words and mannerisms, and will has no fucking idea on why, but by god was it adorable to watch.

‘’i just wanna know if you drew me too. like, just me. portraits, you call it?’’

after what you told me? something tells me its.. not over between you two.

it was that one recalling of a conversation that made will feel a little bit bold that day. ‘’..yeah. lots of times, actually.’’ will looks down with a shy smile on his face.

‘’good.’’ mike whispers.

‘’huh?’’

‘’fuck. nothing. um…okay. cool.’’

‘’yeah.. cool.’’

…

‘’will you be drawing him more than..me?’’

will cannot believe what he’s hearing right now. did the universe just decide to fuck with him today? is he getting targeted right now? a sick, cruel joke?

will doesn’t think so, because all he sees right now is mike. the mike he misses. the mike who talks to him all gently, who’s himself. nervous, wreck of a human being mike wheeler. mike wheeler, the love of his life. forever the subject of his paintings.

will looks up at mike, and their eyes lock.

‘’not possible.’’

[mrkcore]

“how much longer are you going to make me wait?” tears are streaming down your face as you raise your voice. renjun’s paint brush stops, and so does he.

“you said soon, that was a year ago!” tears are flooding your eyes once again. “you’re not communicating with me, we don’t spend time together anymore, hell, we’re barely even talking. all you’re doing all day is sitting in this damn studio and painting.”

“i’ve had an artist block, darling, i-”

“you’ve had this block for god knows how long, what happened to you?”

renjun can’t turn around. he wants to, he really does, but he can’t.

he knows he’s been in this slump for too long. his agent has been calling nonstop, he’s missed dozens of deadlines, and he’s missed plenty more art shows to get his works displayed.

“i don’t know.” renjun croaks, head hanging.

“are you kidding me?” you hissed. from the tone of your voice, renjun can tell you’re angry. “what kind of shit answer is that? don’t you think i deserve a fair answer?”

“i’m sorry, i know. y/n, i really am trying. please believe me.” 

“what if it’s just not working anymore?” renjun’s heart sinks and he whips his head around. 

“what is that supposed to mean?” he glowers. 

you didn’t mean to blurt it out.

“you, painting, what if it’s over? have you ever thought about maybe that’s why?” your tone seems articulated, but you’re shaking and you know that renjun knows too.

“so what you’re suggesting is that i was like some sort of one shot wonder?” he argued furiously.

“maybe your creative juices ran out. your time is up.”

you’re bluffing. 

you know what renjun is capable of, his beautiful paintings, strokes delicately caressed the canvas, depicting vast emotions and things you’d never think of. 

but you’re just so pent up, you can’t stop.

“never thought the person who was behind me, the one who always supported me, could ever say this to me.” he scowls. you want to take everything back, but your brain and lips don’t coordinate.

“that was before you made me wait a year until you were ‘financially stable’ enough for us.” you reminded him. “now when is that?”

that struck a nerve.

“i-, i don’t know.” renjun stutters out, seemingly demoralized by your reminder.

“renjun, how can you say that, and think that this is all fair to me? i’ve been waiting for you for so long, and you’re holding me back from so many things and opportunities. so if this is how this conversation is going to go, there’s no use in me being here anymore.” you say, making renjun freeze. 

what is that supposed to mean?

“i’m putting the ring on the table and i’m going to walk out the front door.” 

no no no no.

“if you follow me out, it means that we’re going to continue on, like we were before,” you start. renjun’s emotions are all over the place. “however, you’re going to get an actual job, and our wedding will go as planned in august.”

you should stop.

this isn’t what you wanted either, but why does your mouth have a mind of its own?

“if you don’t follow me out, that means you chose painting. and i’ll be going, living my own life, and we won’t meet again.”

and you walk out.

hoping that renjun will follow you out, putting the ring back on your finger. the finger that feels extremely empty.

but while walking towards your own apartment, you don’t look back.

until you reach the front of the museum that renjun had his first painting displayed at. oh how you remember the excitement you had, and the joy on his face while walking around the exhibit, admiring the other artists’ creations.

you waited for a few minutes, thinking maybe renjun was just slow, and will come soon.

but he never did.

the realization that hits you feels cold.

you never meant to blow up at renjun like that, but it happened. and you don’t think you can go back to him after hurting him so much. so that’s what you did. you left.

2   Y E A R S   L A T E R

another tinder man, another tinder date.

it took you a while to move on from renjun. as expected, since the two of your dated for 6 years. you didn’t look him up, you didn’t stalk him, because you knew that you needed to move on.

the first year and a half was agony, but you couldn’t tell anyone that. 

you felt incomplete when you woke up. the warmth that he provided, never showed up again.

but you still had a life, you needed to move on. 

your work life is going pretty smoothly, but the same can’t be said for your love life.

so you’ve resorted to tinder.

you’ve had many failed dates, many failed talking stages, you get the gist. but after months of talking to dejun, you think you’ve hit it off. (and yes, it really was a coincidence, you swear)

planning the date, he said it was going to be a surprise, so this was like the make or break for you. if he takes you to a sketchy bar, you’re going to break it off (known from past experience), but anything that is similar to what a normal date is, you really think it’s going to work out.

“surprise!” dejun says, handing you tickets to what seems like an art exhibit when you two walk into the museum nearby. “i saw a few of huang renjun’s early paintings on your walls. i’m a fan too, and it was so nice seeing someone appreciate his older works. coincidence that he was doing an exhibit this weekend, so i snatched some tickets.” he smiles.

you try to smile back, but you’re speechless, you feel numb and you can’t move your limbs anymore.

he notices the change in your mood and is immediately worried.

“are you feeling alright? oh maybe it’s the exhibit, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to, i totally get it if you don’t, sorry if i pushed this onto you.” he tries to reassure you.

“oh, haha, no it’s fine, i was just surprised! yeah i’m a big fan of renjun too so that’s why i was so shocked.” you tried to brush it off, and hopefully your act is convincing enough to get through the showing.

“okay great! it seems like renjun is here today to present his latest collection since he’s giving it to the gallery.” dejun exclaimed, obviously very excited.

but your stomach drops.

renjun is going to be here today?

there’s a lot of people here today, maybe he won’t see you in the crowd.

just your luck.

for your birthdays, anniversaries, pretty much everything worth celebrating over, renjun painted you a canvas of what he was working on recently. they were the start to final products, and you took pride in having the creative process, and kept them all. you never took down those mockups of renjun’s paintings because they felt so homely, and you had forgotten about them. it was a wonder that dejun didn’t notice how they were slightly different from the final products.

but your thoughts are interrupted as you’re escorted into a room with a stage and chairs.

you and dejun get seated as all of the other chairs get filled.

the atmosphere goes quiet suddenly, and you look up to see renjun, and a girl on his arm, walking into the room.

a familiar cold fills the room. 

you zone out during his thank you speech, as he thanks his agent, his mother, his new fiance, and the museum. but you don’t want to hear it.

“and i’d like to thank a special someone, who will not be named, who helped me start this collection.” you look up, and renjun is staring right at you.

“they helped me get out of a nasty painting block, and provided me with so much more inspiration and growth. so thank you.” he finishes with a smile, all while still looking at you.

everything blurs to the showing of his pieces in the collection.

and for some reason, it feels familiar.

the yellows on the canvas danced freely in the first work, it looked so beautiful and comfortable; but when you got to the second one, blues and blacks and reds intruded the painting, and you felt yourself getting teared up.

maybe because you’ve known renjun for so long and seen his paintings so much, that you understand what the painting meant, and it will probably haunt you for the rest of your life. 

but while moving onto the next few paintings, the blues and blacks and reds slowly faded, and a new colour abruptly pops up and the yellow disappears.

pink.

this is the first time you’ve seen renjun work with pink, and that must be something since you’ve known him since high school art class.

and you understand.

you follow dejun around to see the works closer, and you try to sink everything in, without getting visibly emotional. that would be something hard to get yourself out of.

you can’t hold yourself back from glancing at renjun, and his fiance.

she smiles happily as renjun shakes the hand of the museum director.

you’re not sure if renjun was actually looking at you while he said his speech, or even recognized you at all in the crowd, but it was impossible to not be selfish.

the progression of his works, discretely telling you that he’s moved on and that you should too.

but you can’t help but think, that should have been you, standing next to him happily wrapped around his finger as he talks about his paintings.

it would have all happened, if only you had waited.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: huang renjun x f!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: artist!renjun

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): one swear word

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k (wow :0)

𝐚/𝐧: out of my own artist slump, i missed writing angst, i feel a bit musty. hope u enjoyed :)

i’d really like some feedback so feel free to reblog or comment anything about this one :D

send in an ask or comment here to be added to the oneshots taglist! 

© mrkcore. 2021 — reposts of my work is not permitted.

[god-of-dust]

For the Fic Writer Ask:

3, 9, 12, 13, 15 and 20 (sorry for asking so many, but I'm really excited for your answers!)

hey friend, thank you! and don’t worry about asking too many questions, i felt talkative :D

[deep fic writer asks]

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to?

in all honesty, a lot of the fics that i love the most will probably stay forever unfinished in my drafts. as for the fics i actually have finished and posted, i have a soft spot for unscripted, and the reason is that writing it has been fun. readers have praised the character development in it, but it’s something that just happened while i was busy being outrageously self-indulgent with a plot that, to me, was head-empty-just-smut. it reminds me that a story doesn’t have to be that deep to be enjoyable and worth telling.

9. what's your writing process like?

an important part of my process is that appreciation and community-driven deadlines are the main motivators that drive me to actually finish works, which is why shipping weeks are very useful indeed. most of my fics (if not all) are birthed through hyperfixation, which in my case means that i have to squeeze the creative juices on the page before the enthusiasm fades.

on the plot side of things, there are vibes at the wheel rather than a well-thought plan, which is why i usually don’t go for longer stories (though i want to learn to.) i imagine a scene, a concept or a collection of them, and then i string them together until they’re coherent.

thus, when i know that i have a story i want to tell and there’s an audience that makes me excited to sit down and get my fingers on the keyboard, i found out that having a daily word count goal and a timer is the best way for my brain to stop obsessing over every single word and produce instead a repetitive, absurd, unhinged stream of consciousness that i can nonetheless edit later. i put on some background music, open focuswriter with its handy word count options to set my daily goal, start the timer and then i type away until i’m done, even if nothing that comes out makes any lick of sense. all that first draft has to do is exist.

12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write?

for the timed sessions i enjoy sitting at the desk in my room where i usually work. when inspiration strikes me elsewhere i use one of those note-taking apps in my phone and then transfer it to my computer later if i feel like it.

mostly, i want to have time and space to relax and do my thing.

13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why?

interesting question 👀 a bit of both, i think. i do like it at times, but when i go back and read my fics i also feel like my style is kind of immature and the story could have been told better.

15. How do you think your writing as improved over time?

i learned not to judge myself too much during the writing process, so i gained more inspired turn of phrases and emotional depth that i could never have reached if i kept obsessing over good form and not sounding like the ESL speaker that i am. my mother tongue bleeds through my words in many ways and that’s okay.

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing?

readers who care about the stories i tell and who leave comments to let me know that they appreciate what i do. it’s humbling and exciting in a way i can’t describe. in the past, it often felt shallow and shameful to think that i create not only for myself but also because i love the validation, but i realize now that it’s true: community is great. sharing my stuff with people who are excited about it is amazing. the more love my creative works receive, the more of them i want to put out in the world.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Hello!

I love all your work so much and I saw that you were going to be taking a break from your Bachelor universe so I wanted to throw some prompts your way to maybe help get some other creative juices flowing *waggles eyebrows*

1) switched at birth AU

2) Everyone already knows their dating AU

3) Law and Order (SVU AU)

4) you’ve got mail AU

Thank you anon, I'm glad you like my writing!

Now that I've finished my Bach fic, I've been at a bit of a loss what I want to do next. Maybe it's because I'm all out of new ideas, maybe it's because work has been absolutely hectic, but my creative brain is completely empty. So I figured, why not try to do one of these prompts?

Here's the thing: I have never seen SVU or You've Got Mail. And I'm pretty sure Switched at Birth is also a TV show I have never seen? When I saw "everyone already knows" my immediate thought was "oh! like in Friends!" but then I remembered I have absolutely read that fic somewhere?? Like someone already wrote that for Jonsa. (I tried to find it again but have had no luck.)

So I chose switched at birth as a concept - I'm not sure if you meant the TV show or not, but I just wrote whatever popped into my brain.

A warning: this turned out a bit more angsty than I intended, and isn't necessarily Jonsa? It is if you squint. A few other notes, Alayne is a completely separate person from Sansa, Lysa is not related to Catelyn, and Baelish never knew Catelyn either. Sorry if it's confusing and/or not at all what you were looking for!

.

.

Sansa feels as if the world has dropped out from beneath her.

They all sit in the drawing room of what she can only describe as a mansion (and she knows that next to her, Father is likely seething. This is the kind of money he aspires to, but will never be able to reach. He will never have a name. Father is a Baelish, he could never be a Stark.)

She stares at the family sitting opposite and her heart sticks in her throat at the sight of them – the mother, the three sons, they all have the same copper hair that she does and she swallows against the rising tears.

This is what she could have had, she thinks as she averts her eyes, but she only manages to catch sight of the family portrait above the mantel. A father, a mother, siblings. She could have had all of this, if not for the slip-up of an overworked, underpaid nurse sixteen years ago. She could have been Alayne Stark. Instead she is Sansa Baelish.

Switched at birth.

Alayne sits with her family (that should be Sansa's family), and she doesn't look as out of place as she should. Her dark hair matches Mr. Stark's – matches the other daughter, Arya. Alayne fits right in.

Sansa sits with Father (no, not her father; the man who raised her) on the opposite couch and wonders if her Mother (no, not her mother) had known, somehow. Is that why Mother had always been so cruel to her? Why she always seemed to hate Sansa for reasons she could never figure out? Perhaps Mother had known, somehow, that Sansa wasn't hers. Sansa remembers reading fairy stories of Changelings – how the mother would know, insist the child wasn't hers, how no one ever believed her. Is that why Mother threw herself off the roof all those years ago?

“Well this is fucking awkward,” the girl, Arya, mutters, and it breaks the silence as Mr. Stark sighs and presses a hand over his face and Mrs. Stark begins to scold her for her language and impropriety. Sansa watches Alayne laugh, and she feels more than ever like an intruder. She may share the Stark blood, but it seems as if Alayne and Arya are more alike than not. And by the way the brothers are trying to hide their own laughter, it seems Alayne fits in with all of them.

Perhaps it wasn't a mistake to switch them, Sansa thinks bitterly. Perhaps the Starks are better for having Alayne.

….

She is forced to get to know the Stark family, though she does not think she wants to. She doesn't want to look at their life and wish it could have been hers – wish that Ned Stark with his kind eyes and calm voice could have been her father. Wish that Catelyn Stark with her smiles and her freshly baked cookies could have been her mother. Wish that she could have been surrounded by siblings and dogs and even two strange psuedo-adopted-but-not-really brothers that she meets later on named Jon and Theon. The Stark household is chaotic and confusing and Sansa tells herself she would have hated growing up here.

….

She isn't surprised to find that she's not sad Father isn't her real father. In fact, there's a sort of joy inside her that when she turns eighteen, she can be free of him. He is still her legal guardian, the courts have decided, but she has less than two years before she is free and they aren't actually related and so she doesn't have to feel guilty about her dreams of leaving him.

It grows inside her as the weeks and months go by – a hatred she has never truly let herself feel before. She hates him, despises him. She always has.

Catelyn Stark is insistent on getting to know her because Sansa is her daughter, but Sansa can tell that Father has no real desire to get to know his own real daughter. He does not care about Alayne – no, what he cares about is ingratiating himself into the Stark family. She wonders if the Starks can see it like she can. She hopes not – she doesn't want them to think she's only coming to these weekly meetings for their money and their name.

In all honestly, she's not actually sure why she keeps coming to these meetings. All they do is remind her that the Starks will never truly be her family. All they do is highlight how much Father cares about social climbing. These meetings are painful and every week when she finally gets home and takes a shower and gets into her pajamas and climbs into bed, she sobs into her pillow for what could have been.

…

“You know the party's inside, right?”

Sansa startles out of her reverie and whirls around, heart pounding, to find Jon Snow standing behind her, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

It's Christmas and the snow is thick on the ground and she's shivering in the thin wrap that she came outside with, her coat in a closet where Mrs. Stark had taken it hours earlier.

“Are you allowed to be smoking?” she asks instead of answering and he laughs, pulling one out of the pack and placing it between his lips.

“I'm eighteen,” he shrugs, speaking around the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. His hands come up and he lights it, with one cupped around the end against the cold winter wind.

“I can't imagine Mrs. Stark approves of smoking,” she sniffs, then shakes her head no when Jon holds the pack out to her in offering. She watches his mouth twitch into a smile for a moment, like he knew she wouldn't take one, before putting the pack back in his coat pocket.

“Seems you don't approve, either.”

“Well, I am her daughter.” She says it and means it to be a joke, but the words come out soft and it wavers at the end.

Jon watches her for a moment, then unzips his coat and shrugs it off and holds it out to her and she stares at it blankly, her mind not processing the gesture. He shakes the coat, like he's insisting she take it and she finally does, slipping it on and then closing her eyes at the immediate warmth of it.

“I get it,” Jon says after a while, when he's halfway down to the filter, clouds of smoke drifting up into the night sky. “I mean, not exactly, I'm not sure there's anyone who can understand... you know-” he gestures at her. “But I get what's it's like - to be a Stark, but not. They practically raised me, but I'm not... I'll never actually be one of them.”

“I used to read fairytales,” she admits, turning her face from him because it's easier to talk into the dark, snow-covered landscape than him. “About secret princesses, and the king and queen were always so happy to have their daughter back. In the stories, there was never another princess who already took her place. Who fit in better.”

Alayne is a perfect Stark, she thinks. Over the months, she's seen it – how Alayne plays football and hockey with her brothers and sisters, makes jokes that Sansa would never. She's nothing like Sansa, who always preferred reading poetry to playing outside, with perfect manners and perfect posture. Cold and reserved. She wishes she were more like Alayne – more like a Stark.

She hears Jon sigh and take one last drag of the cigarette before he puts it out in the snow. “You're a lot like Cat, you know,” he says finally, and she feels something twist painfully in her chest. “And Bran. I mean, I don't know you that well, I guess, but...”

She shakes her head because he's wrong. She's nothing like any of the Starks (though she's not a Baelish, either). Jon sighs again, louder this time, with more annoyance.

“You are,” he insists, and she finally turns to face him again and opens her mouth to argue, but he gets there first. “You'd see it if you let yourself. If you actually tried. Cat's... Cat is trying so hard. You should see how she gets before you come over. Everyone is freaking out about it but you won't even try to get to know them. And I might not get how you feel, but Alayne? Have you even tried to talk to her?”

That painful twist in her chest tightens, it swoops down into her belly and up into her throat. “I am-”

“Like I said, I can't imagine how it feels, you know? And I'm sure it's a lot, and you're allowed to feel how you feel, but the Starks are... they want you here, I promise. But if you don't want to be, if you don't want them in your life, maybe this should all stop, cause it's hurting them and I think it's hurting you. Maybe we shouldn't be trying to force it if it's not what you want.”

Her mind is blank, she can't think of a single argument, though she wants to argue. She wants to say that Alayne hasn't tried talking to her, either. She wants to insist that she is trying, but... but she's not. Not really. She's holding herself at a distance, she's already decided she doesn't belong.

“What if they don't like me?” The words slip out of her, unbidden, her voice barely a whisper. It wavers in the dark. (Her deepest fear – that if she lets them get close to her, they'll decide she isn't worth it, that they don't want her.)

She's not sure what response she was expecting, but it's not for Jon to smile – he does, gives her a little half smile and raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't know you that well yet, but so far I like you just fine. And I'm not even a Stark.”

“You seem like a Stark,” she tells him, and watches something flicker across his face and she doesn't know him well enough yet to tell what it is.

“I'm not actually related,” he says, though she already knows this. “Not by blood or anything.” For a moment he brings his hand up to rub at the back of his neck and he suddenly won't look at her and she wonders if she said something wrong. “We should go back inside,” he seems to change the subject and she hesitates, but then he holds out his hand. After a moment, she takes it, and follows him back inside, out of the freezing night air and into the warmth of the house. In the distance, she can hear voices and laughter, she can smell the cinnamon and pine in the air.

She could get lost here, if she let herself.

“There you are,” Mrs. Stark looks up as they enter the kitchen, and Jon lets go of her hand. Mrs. Stark narrows her eyes at Jon, then looks at the back door, like she guesses what he was doing out there and doesn't approve.

“I'm uh...” Jon starts, looking between Mrs. Stark and her, “I should get back to the party.” Before he goes, he turns back to her and she remembers she's still in his coat and she hurriedly takes it off, feeling heat high up on her cheeks as she does. “Try,” he says, voice too low for Mrs. Stark to hear. Then he takes his coat and leaves the kitchen – leaves her in the kitchen. Alone. With Mrs. Stark.

“Are you having fun?” Mrs. Stark's voice is light, but there's something underneath, a hesitance.

“I am,” she says back, wondering if she should make some excuse and leave. Wondering if Mrs. Stark doesn't want to be here talking to her.

(Try.)

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me,” she blurts out, and Mrs. Stark looks at her sharply. “I had some of the pumpkin pie, it was really good.”

It's such a stupid, nonsense thing to say, but Mrs. Stark looks pleased.

“It's a family recipe,” Mrs. Stark says, and then – a bit of hesitation - “I could teach it to you, if you'd like.”

Sansa's breath catches in her throat and it takes her a moment to say, “I like baking.”

“So do I. I could never get Alayne or Arya into it.” Mrs. Stark says it with a fond smile and Sansa feels something break open inside of her and she realizes, she knows, that she wants this. She wants to know this family, she wants to be a part of it. She doesn't want to take Alayne's place, she never could, but she...

“You could teach me,” she whispers. “Sometime. I'd like that.”

“So would I,” Mrs St- her mother, says with a smile that lights up the room.

[kumkaniudaku]

HABERDASHERY

I haven’t written anything in months, but found inspiration in this. Sorry if it’s trash. Trying to get back in a groove.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop their torture.

Their unwelcome screaming inside the walls of Rafael’s tired mind kept him glued to scorching bed sheets while he tried to time the quiet whoosh of the oscillating fan to the snoring you swore didn’t exist.

Usually, he’d be giddy at this hour with the faint glow of his phone screen illuminating a pensive expression or a smile as a thank you for a thought that had managed to escape him all day. Late night was Rafael’s playground, full of untapped creative gold mines that work snatched from him while the sun sat high. But now, regret and missed opportunities reminded him just how unprepared he was for those big ideas he’d tricked himself into believing.

“Hey.” He whispered once and then again.

No answer. Unlike him, you had rest to keep you occupied when the world slowed to a silent creep.

Rafael continued to stare at the ceiling until his legs acted under their own volition to swing over the bed and carry him into the hallway. Moonlight lit his path to the kitchen. His hands acted as antennas as he searched for the refrigerator’s handle until they found their target. A sigh of relief sounded louder than he intended once the cool air hit his bare torso. Even if his thoughts had chosen to spare him, the lack of air conditioning during an unseasonably warm California night was there as a one-two punch.

Cartons of takeout and an assortment of green juices caught Rafael’s eye as he scanned the shelves for something to occupy his time. Water could cure the issue of his body temperature climbing to heat stroke levels, but would do nothing for the grief clouding his brain. That was a job for his old friend, whiskey.

Abandoning the fridge, Rafael set off for the coveted liquor cabinet in the other room. The object of his desire sat glittering in the only sliver of light through the curtain like a lighthouse in a storm. Under normal circumstances, he’d take the bottle directly to his lips, but rules were rules and retribution was best avoided by listening to the undisputed leader of the house. So, he carefully removed a glass from the makeshift bar before reaching into his least favorite drawer for his least favorite coping mechanism.

Sliding open the back door for a moment alone felt like stepping into Narnia. Rafael took a second to breathe in deep, inhaling the scent of incoming rain and fresh potting soil from another one of your plant projects. A shot of his favorite whiskey awakened his sense of taste before heat filled his throat and chest. Afraid to cough and disturb the harmony indoors, he stifled his reaction with a shaky deep breath.

“Shit,” Rafael panted as he poured more amber liquid into his glass. “Good fucking morning to you, too.”

His second sip came with much more ease, opening the door for more until the glass was empty for another round. The soundtrack to 2 AM kept Rafael company while he stared into the darkness to confront his thoughts.

Imposter syndrome had Rafael in a vice grip. Days were beginning to turn into weeks and months while he waited on a studio decision to let his most treasured work of art continue or end before he could paint the entire picture. He wondered if he could’ve made a different decision with shot choices or fine tuned a few scenes before presenting his heart to the public. Maybe, if he’d taken more time in the editing bay instead of cutting nights short to make it home for dinner, the entire world could see the story that he and the team worked so hard to tell.

A battle of what if and maybe invaded his quiet moments with no outlet, leaving him like a shaken bottle of anxiety ready to erupt at any moment.

Rafael tried to ignore the weight in his pocket by listening to the rhythmic beeping of some vehicle in the distance. When that faded, he bounced his leg in time to a new song he planned to record when he had a free moment. But, the thoughts returned and the devil at his side began to convince him that the only way out was through a few pulls of nicotine.

Cursing to himself, Rafael pulled the forbidden fruit out of his pajama pants and plucked a cigarette from the almost empty carton. When he reached over to the table beside him for a lighter, he came up empty handed. A frantic search party in his pocket produced similar results.

He groaned to himself and tugged at the hair falling over his forehead. “I can’t even fuckin’ smoke right.”

“I mean, if you would’ve lit that shit without a lighter, I would’ve been impressed.”

The sound of your voice startled Rafael enough for him to visibly jump out of his seat before hanging his head.

“I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No,” you answered while walking closer and gesturing for the cigarette. “Can I hang out with you?”

You didn’t wait for Rafael’s response and he didn’t protest when you helped place the cigarette between his lips. He held it steady in anticipation of the spark you provided with the light in your hands. His eyes closed to experience the first drag he’d had in months only to open when the scrape of metal across concrete interrupted his personal paradise. When he looked over, you offered a small smile.

“I’m gonna start from the top, okay. Let me know when it’s too much.”

“Alright,” you agreed before sliding his glass of whiskey from his hands to take a sip. “I’m listening.”

[malienessan]

This is for @theredquilt who very successfully argumented a win in the GMS Day 1 Bingo, arranged by @goldenlionsilverfox . The request was for something spooky, and this is what my brain came up with.

Link has been hearing things in the walls of the Creative House. But why doesn’t Rhett hear it?

What’s in the wall?

For some time, Link had been hearing something in the walls of the Creative House. Not every time he was there, but often enough to consider it disturbing. He had convinced Rhett to get the exterminator there, thinking it might be mice in the walls. That wasn’t the case, there were no infestations in the house.

But the sounds kept disturbing Link. There was like an insistent scratching in the wall between Link’s office and the Jack-and-Jill leading to the Skyn Wallz room, as if something was trying to make its way out. He hadn’t told Rhett that the exterminator guy was there because of a specific sound, he was afraid that Rhett would think it was his depression that made him hear things.

His depression was, for now, under control, Link felt happy and content with his life. And happy people didn’t hear things in the walls, right?

And yet, Link did.

When he and Rhett decided to spend a weekend at the Creative House, Link decided that he would simply shut the sound out of his head.

The wives were taking the kids to North Carolina for a long weekend, Thursday to Sunday, and the guys thought it would be a great opportunity to get the creative juices flowing.

Thursday evening, everything was ok. No strange scratching sound, not even once. They churned out the outline for a pilot, getting all sorts of great ideas, working until the middle of the night and then slept in their separate beds in their separate offices.

Friday night, however, was not so peaceful. The sound had started early, when the sun came up. First just a little, like a cricket crawling along a wall. But as the day progressed, the sound grew in intensity, it sounded like a mouse, a rat, a raccoon and when nightfall came, Link couldn’t even be in his office. It sounded like someone was clawing their way out of the wall, slowly, undoubtedly. And if Link put his head to the wall, which he only dared to do once, he could feel the vibrations of the wall being shredded to pieces.

It was then that he broke down, went to get Rhett and told him all about what he had been hearing. It only confirmed what he had been afraid of.

“Link, there’s no sound, I swear.” Rhett looked at him with concern. “Nothing at all. Can you hear it now?”

Well yeah, it sounded so loud that it almost drowned out Rhett’s voice. Link only nodded, almost crying.

“Look. You can sleep in my room tonight, we’ll drag your bed there, and tomorrow we’ll call your doctor, see if you need to check your meds or whatever.” In an unusual physical display of affection, Rhett put his arms around Link, letting the shorter man rest his head against a strong shoulder. They would get through this.

Said and done, they made room for Link’s bed in Rhett’s office and somehow managed to make it feel like a sleepover, something they hadn’t done in too many years. They closed every door they could, to try and shut out the scratching, and almost succeeded. If Link put a pillow over his head, he could barely hear it.

***

In the middle of the night, Link woke with a start. His heart was beating heavily, he was certain something had scared him awake. He listened for the sound, it couldn’t be heard. And neither could he hear the faint sounds of Rhett sleeping, which frightened Link a lot more than the scratching noise. Where was he?

He was just about to get out of bed and go looking for Rhett when he saw him coming through the door. He shut it behind him and turned towards Link, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

“Link? Why are you up?”

“I think I had a bad dream. It’s alright, got a little worried when I couldn’t hear you breathe.”

“Oh, Link. Here, let me help you relax.”

Without asking, Rhett sat down on the bed behind Link and started rubbing his shoulders. Link thought about asking what he was doing, but it felt so good that he just let it happen. Those big, strong hands, working on Link’s tense muscles. It was… wonderful, was the word he searched for. His head lolled forward, letting Rhett work him over, trying to suppress the small moans he felt build in his chest.

“Link… relax, let me take care of you…” Link felt Rhett’s breath against his neck and then the slight scratch of his beard.

“Rhett, what are you doing?” Link made as to move away but was held in place by Rhett’s firm grip.

“Link, bo, just let me do this, please?” He ended by kissing that sensitive spot at the back of Link’s neck, making Link shiver all over. “It’s been too long, we should have done this a long, long time ago.”

Rhett placed kisses over Link’s neck, letting his big hands slide down Link’s back, giving comfort and lighting small fires in the pit of Link’s belly. Soon, one snaked around Link’s midriff, almost tickling, but never wavering, until it had grasped Link’s hard dick through the pajama pants.

“Aah… oh, Rhett, are you sure?”

“Mmhmm, I sure am.” Rhett smiled against Link’s neck. With assertive movements, he let his hand slide under the hem of the pants, grabbing hold of the long, smooth dick, letting his thumb slide through the beads of precum coming from the slit. Link shuddered.

“Rhheeeettt…” He couldn’t stop the moan but felt desperate, was he gonna cum in his best friends’ hand without even kissing him? Link twisted in Rhett’s arms, trying desperately to turn around and finally, he could look his friend in the eye and kiss him. It was… better than Link could ever have imagined. Rhett’s soft lips, the scratching of his beard against Link’s chin, his tongue licking its way into Link’s mouth.

Rhett smiled at him, taking a new grip of the still hard cock and with a few smooth moves, brought Link to the edge.

“Will you cum for me, bo? Then you can sleep again.”

Link tried to object, wouldn’t Rhett want anything in return? But he only shook his head, they could do that tomorrow, or any day after that. This was how it was now.

Rhett kissed Link, jerking his wet dick just right and with a moan, Link came, so hard it made the world spin. He was vaguely aware of how Rhett put him back in bed, and pulled the quilt over him, and then Link slept.

The next morning, Link woke up, feeling happy and content. He was a little sticky, in the nether region, and figured he would get up and have a shower. He could hear Rhett in the shower and decided to traipse over to his own office. When he got there, he stared in shock. There was a big hole in the wall, as if something had burst through. He fled, running in panic back to Rhett’s office, yelling for his best friend.

He couldn’t hear the shower anymore and when he looked through the door to the bathroom, it was empty, no signs whatsoever of anyone having a shower. He ran back and then he heard Rhett calling to him from the living room.

“Link? Link! What’s wrong?” As Link rushed there, he was met with the sight of a newly woken Rhett on their living room couch. “Are you alright?”

Link stared at him.

“Ah, yeah…? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you talked in your sleep, so loud that I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t wake you. I decided to sleep here instead.”

“But… But what about last night, what we…?”

Rhett looked at him, confusion evident on his face. “Last night? We what?”

Link just turned around, running back to his room, looking at the broken wall again. He was crazy, he must be. He must have gotten out of bed that night, busted the wall somehow and then dreamt the whole episode about Rhett. It was time to call the doctor. Defeated, he got a towel from the dresser and went to take a shower.

As he stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the shower, he thought he saw movement behind him. The shower curtain moved. Link thought he would faint when it was pulled to the side and Rhett stepped out. But it wasn’t really Rhett. It had eyes that gleamed at him.

“Hey Link. Thanks for letting me out of the wall.” When the thing smiled at him, Link started to pass out. He could vaguely hear Rhett calling out for him, the real Rhett, as the thing in the mirror turned its head towards the bathroom door, a grin on its face.

[cup-half-full-of-anxiety]

Fractured Hearts - (Chapter Seven)

So I somehow found the juice to finish this filler chapter that has been sitting for 8 months. I have more to come. I do not plan on abandoning ship but the creativity tank has been on empty so please bear with me.

Enjoy.

- Previous Chapter -

Richard sat nursing his second pint while Taron waved the server over to order his 4th. It had been a few hours since they left the lot and it was clear that whatever Taron needed to talk about was anything but light. Neither had said much since they had arrived at the pub. Richard sat patiently, waiting for Taron to open up but it had been at least a half-hour since either of them said anything. You could almost hear his brain in-process mode, he was clearly trying to find the best way to broach the subject.

“I have a daughter” he finally blurted.

Richard’s head jerked around to face Taron quicker than he thought possible.

“Come again Mate?”

Taron laughed humorlessly as he took a large drink from his glass.

“Yeah” He paused to wipe the beer off his upper lip and collect his thoughts before he continued

“I have a daughter” He said just as plainly “A 4-year-old daughter to be exact” Richard was shocked, he had no idea what to say or where to begin. He knew something had been bothering his new friend ever since the night of the mixer but this was the last thing he expected it to be.

“T, I am confused. What do you mean you have a daughter?”

“Adelaide” he said simply before raising his now empty glass to the waitress as she walked by, signaling he wanted another. “Just over 5 years ago, she and I were together. We had been together for 6 years. Tilly had introduced us when we were like 10-”

Richard’s eyes widened with realization as a long-forgotten memory came rushing to him, but Taron was too lost in telling the story to notice. He was unsure if he should share the memory with his friend or keep to himself that he had met his daughter once a couple of years ago in LA, it was just after he had met Adelaide, they had run into each other at the grocery store one weekend. Adelaide had introduced Richard to a then-toddler aged Eleanor.

He shook away the thought, he would tell Taron but not today.

“Even from the start we always flirted with each other, we were each other's first real crushes, but we didn’t start dating right away. I think deep down we both knew that once whatever we had going on between us started, that would be it, we would never have another, or love another but we couldn’t fight it for long and the inevitable happened, we started dating and that was it. We were always together, never one without the other but not in that annoying way. We were still our own people, but we were so much better together.”

“So what happened?” Richard was engrossed in the story.

“She disappeared” He shrugged nonchalantly even though Richard knew the memory had to kill him every time he thought about it “I came home from the last day of filming the first Kingsman to a quiet flat. She took everything of hers that she could, a lot had been left behind but everything she could take, she did and that was it.”

He pulled out his wallet, pulling out the note Adelaide had left behind. “This is all she left as an explanation” he handed it to Richard.

“I am still confused Mate” Richard said as he handed the note back “She just left? She didn’t stay so you guys could raise your child together?”

Richard was truly confused by the situation. He and Adelaide were not the closest but they had kept in contact over the years since they had met. They’d meet up for drinks when Richard was in LA, text on birthdays and holidays but they never formed the tightest bonds. He would never guess she would knowingly cause someone this much pain.

Taron began explaining what Adelaide had told him, how she was scared he would leave everything he worked hard for behind for her and their child, how she didn’t want to be the reason for him doing something he would regret further down the road. How she was just plain scared at the moment.

Now maybe Richard could understand the situation a little more.

“Wow, I still have no idea what to say” he needed another drink after this.

“Love” he grabbed the waitress’s attention “can I get another pint and we’re gonna need two whisky shots each please”. They both needed something a little stronger.

“So what are you going to do? I assume you want to be in your daughter’s life” Taron nodded “do you still want Adelaide in yours? Do you still have feelings for her?”

Taron did not have to think at all about the first part of the question.

“Of course I want to be a part of her life. I have already missed out on 4 years of it, I can’t miss out on anymore.”

“And Adelaide?”

“I’ll always love her” He paused.

Taron was quiet for a few moments. His mind still running in overdrive.

“I went over to her place the other night” he confessed; Richard raised an eyebrow in question. “After the mixer, it was late, and I just called her. She was awake, and I asked if I could come over. There was nothing sexual about it” he gave Richard a look before he even said anything.

“I was going to ask; I didn’t want to assume” he thanked the waitress as she set the drinks down.

“I don’t know mate” the boys took their first shot, both slightly wincing at the taste “I just needed to hold her. She literally disappeared from my life. Gone. I did everything I could possibly do to find her. I went to her Grans, to Tilly’s. I went to places we hung out, our favorite places. I called her more times than I can even count, I sent her bloody emails. I left voicemails every few days for well over a year but eventually, I had to stop. I had to accept she was not coming back. I had to accept I wouldn’t get closure.” Taron had to wipe at the few tears that fell.

“Before that, I never understood actual heartbreak. I had seen my parents’ separate and I had seen the pain that brought but now I was feeling my own. I threw myself into work, I took on everything I could get my hands on. Thinking back, I feel like a lot of it was because of her. I wanted to make sure she couldn’t forget me, that she wouldn’t be able to get away from the fact that she just left.” Taron paused, a vengeful look in his eyes at the thought but it was lost as he ran his hand over his face with a sigh.

“Then there she was. Really her, not some glitch in the matrix that my mind manifested to torture me.” He paused again. Trying to wrap his mind around it. “I don’t know mate. It’s like my body knew she was close, and I needed to feel her, even if it was just sleeping in each other’s arms.”

“And that’s all that happened?”

“Yeah, until I woke up a little while later.” He shook his head at the still-fresh memory, he knew he was not wrong for getting angry about the situation but that did not mean he felt great about what happened or what he said.

“She is staying at her Grans place, a home we spent a lot of time at in our adolescence until we moved in together. The house is very familiar to me. I went down for a drink and it didn’t take long to notice the kids toys in the corner, a stuffed animal on the couch, and then I found Eleanor’s room and realized that they have been coming to England to visit her Gran and Tilly, and I kind of lost it.” The boys took their second shot when Taron made another pause in his story.

“She woke up and found me in Eleanor’s room” He paused again and smiled to himself at the mention of his daughter “that’s her name, Eleanor. She found me in her room, lost in thoughts of what could have been while I held one of her dolls, just trying to feel close to this little girl I didn’t know yet but already loved so much. She said something and I honestly cannot even remember what it was now. I was so overcome with anger and then we fought, well it was more of me yelling than anything.”

“I just don’t...” He sounded so broken. “Fuck...I just want to put this behind me. I want to move past this anger and have a relationship with my daughter”

“You can mate but you need to remember that you just found this news out. You need to give yourself time to process it and you’re allowed to be angry or feel hurt.” Richard patted his friend’s arm.

“I have no doubt that you are going to be an amazing father. That little girl has no idea what is in store for her.” Taron could not keep the smile off his face. He’d always wanted to be a father; since the day Rosie was born.

When he saw Adelaide hold his baby sister for the first time, he knew it then. Adelaide knew when she watched Rosie’s tiny hand wrap around Taron’s finger. That night as they laid in Adelaide’s bed at her Grans, they had their first real discussion about having children. Both laughing at the thought, both thinking it would be a lifetime before parenthood would make its way into their lives.

The boys were quiet again. Taron’s body beginning to buzz with warmth from the alcohol, he knew if he ordered anymore he would be in trouble with Dex tomorrow, showing up for blocking hungover.

“I think it might be time to call it mate. We both have early days tomorrow and neither of us is going to be any good if we get pissed tonight” Richard raised his almost empty glass, clearly reading Taron’s mind. They cheered before they both finished off their drinks.

The boys paid their tab and made their way outside.

“Sleep on it mate.” Richard dropped his hand on his friend’s shoulder “Think about what is best for you and your daughter and your relationship with her mother. You have a lot of people around you that will be there to support you, but you need to do what you think is best.”

Taron hugged his friend tightly.

“Thanks mate. See you tomorrow”

The boys parted.

As Taron leaned against the wall waiting on his train his phone pinged with a text.

Doll:

I’m sorry about this afternoon.

Doll:

I’m just trying to figure this all out.

Taron:

Will she really be here in 3 weeks?

Adelaide sighed; she assumed he must have heard some of the conversation with her mom, she had a feeling it was the reason for him leaving set early. She took a deep breath before she replied.

Doll:

Yes. I wanted some time to settle and to talk to you before they came.

Taron:

Okay

Was all Taron replied with. He had 3 weeks to get everything figured out.

To be continued

@xceaf @sarahegerton96 @primaba11erina​ @shereighties​ @aberystwythboy